The crisp leaves - on the half frozen ground - crunch as Bellamy approaches her. She doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Bellamy. Each night, after he finishes patrol, he finds her alone by the fire. They sit for a few hours - sometimes in silence, sometimes not, before they get up and retreat to their quarters to allow themselves that small luxury of sleep, so that they can function during the days. It’s a routine now - it’s their normal.

“Hey. You doing okay?” He places his hand on her knee as he settles beside her on the log.

Clarke finds that the small touches between them, whether it’s Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder when she’s worried, or Clarke’s hand on his arm to reassure him that he’s not alone, have become familiar. It’s something else that has become their normal - intimacy. And they both allow themselves that.

“Yeah.” Clarke picks up his hand, intertwining their fingers and then leans her head on his shoulder - succumbing to the comfort he’s offering her. “I am now.”

Because she is. Because the weight on her chest doesn’t feel as heavy when he’s around. Because she doesn’t feel as if she’s suffocating and drowning when he’s there. Because she doesn’t feel alone with Bellamy. But mainly because around him, she can breathe.

“You?” She asks.

He rests his head on hers and sighs. “Me too.”

The thought of tomorrow doesn’t seem as terrifying as it once did because they’ll face it together.