[Bellamy sees her name on the board at the smoothie shack and freezes. He has no idea what hot blooded shounen tears are and does not care, because he's trying not to get his hopes up on what seeing Clarke Griffin on the board might mean. If she's here, if this is another wave of people arriving through the ViViD, he needs to find her, preferably before it takes a turn for the worst like his own arrival experience.]
[There's a towel wrapped around his waist because Bellamy might not be shy about himself, but it doesn't mean others should be subject to his ass unwillingly ok; he knots it as he moves hurriedly at the beach, not interested in having it fall off and not having the time to keep adjusting it. He wants to just start shouting for her, every glance of blonde sending sharp hope through his chest, all of which fall flat as each face proves to not be Clarke. He's not exactly trying to be subtle (impossible anyway, with the way he's rushing around), but he's not actively trying to draw attention to himself either; he isn't thinking about appearances at all.]
[He barely apologizes when he bumps into people, pausing only once when he accidentally knocks into someone a little too hard to make sure they're okay. There's a flash of red down the sand that catches him off guard, because - it feels like Clarke in the way they move, but for all he knows it's the game being an asshole. He moves towards the woman anyway like he can't help it, even if his gaze is more frantic in every other direction.]
[If the drink was a fakeout, he doesn't think he'll be able to handle it. So for now he just tells himself that Clarke is here, and that he needs to find her. The rest of the beach party doesn't matter.]
infinity numbers
[There's a towel wrapped around his waist because Bellamy might not be shy about himself, but it doesn't mean others should be subject to his ass unwillingly ok; he knots it as he moves hurriedly at the beach, not interested in having it fall off and not having the time to keep adjusting it. He wants to just start shouting for her, every glance of blonde sending sharp hope through his chest, all of which fall flat as each face proves to not be Clarke. He's not exactly trying to be subtle (impossible anyway, with the way he's rushing around), but he's not actively trying to draw attention to himself either; he isn't thinking about appearances at all.]
[He barely apologizes when he bumps into people, pausing only once when he accidentally knocks into someone a little too hard to make sure they're okay. There's a flash of red down the sand that catches him off guard, because - it feels like Clarke in the way they move, but for all he knows it's the game being an asshole. He moves towards the woman anyway like he can't help it, even if his gaze is more frantic in every other direction.]
[If the drink was a fakeout, he doesn't think he'll be able to handle it. So for now he just tells himself that Clarke is here, and that he needs to find her. The rest of the beach party doesn't matter.]