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"They could be happy” she thinks one night, Lincoln is already asleep but she’s not. Her mind is tired, sad, full of anguish because she knows her brother better than anyone and it’s killing her to see it everyday.
He won’t stop loving her though, and she won’t stop loving him. But her? she’ll always be the haunting ghost in this camp. 'She’ll roam around, affecting everyone’s lives until the day we die'. She’ll suck them alive until there’s nothing but regrets left.
It’s in the way Echo looks at Bellamy, half in love and half broken. It’s in the way Bellamy looks at her, like he’s so close to letting go—so close to moving on, but never quite cutting the ropes of that bridge.
[She once read it was hope that ultimately kills you, she’s starting to believe it]
It’s in the way Clarke looks at them [at him] when she comes back at Lexa’s side to talk about a new peace treaty. The way her hand tightens around Lexa’s when she sees them; like she, too, is trying to convince herself where they are (who they are with now) is enough.
[it’s not. she’s in love with him, and he’s in love with her, and the other two idiots standing in the sidelines are loving them so much, so hard, so fast, but it’s never enough. ]
“They could be happy,” Octavia whispers.
Octavia knows Bellamy could make Echo laugh, she could make him smile for real. They could share the burden of their past— not only their present, they could build something from this. They could have a family and beautiful, brave, strong children.
But she also knows love, she’s felt it with Lincoln [feels it every day], and she knows she wouldn't give that feeling up for anything in the world.
She knows Bellamy won’t let that feeling go away, knows Clarke will keep it smashed under the baggage she carries with herself.
[She tells herself the tears are for her brother and not for the woman that doesn’t let him move on.]