WARNING!!! CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH AND MENTIONS OF BLOOD!!!
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A very angst-filled story to start off the book
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Aaron x Bellamy
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Bellamy belongs to -dontmindme_
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Pretty much none of this is canon I just like to make myself sad
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Aaron intertwined his and Bellamy's fingers together as they walked, taking his boyfriend's free hand in his. Their dogs, Taz and Comet, strode ahead; the Doberman nearly stepped on the small corgi as he stopped to press his nose into the blades of grass, seeking out a scent that had caught his attention. Comet was getting old—Aaron thought to himself—the gray had spread past his muzzle and engulfed the white stripe up his nose, almost his entire face had changed color due to old age. He knew that Comet was an older dog when they started dating, and a few years had passed since then, and while he didn't know Comet's exact age, he could tell that he walked slower, he had a harder time getting up on the couch, and he no longer would bark from his spot on his dog bed if a stranger knocked on the door. And as he got older, so did Aaron.

Aaron no longer had such a baby face as he did in his late teens, while his cheeks had lost a bit of their roundness, he wasn't chiseled in any shape or form, but it made him look older than he previously did. He was still as lean and thin as ever, but his style in clothes had matured, and instead of those electric blues and vibrant yellows he adopted more bleak colors into his wardrobe. He more more mellow shades now, and his style has formed into what could actually be defined as a style in comparison to his mismatched outfits from when he first met Bellamy. He was still reckless, but not in the way he was before, he didn't seem to actively seek out danger anymore—though he did welcome it when it came by, a habit that even years of dating Bellamy couldn't fix.

All these changes yet...Bellamy remained unchanged. As the boogeyman, Aaron knew he didn't age, that thin smile was still as confident as ever, and his attitude was pretty much the same from when they first met all those moons ago. He still had that stubble that gave Aaron a beard rash if he didn't trim it in a timely enough matter, that slicked back hair that he styled when he got out of the shower every morning, and that alluring sense of style composed of almost all dark colors. He was just as captivating as ever.

Bellamy seemed to sense that Aaron was studying him, and his eyes slid over to meet his gaze. A small smile spread on his face and he cocked an eyebrow as if to ask him why he was staring.

"What do you think happens when you die?" Aaron blurted, clearly taking the boogeyman off guard by such a philosophical question. It was just like Aaron, though, to ask something so deep without thinking.

"I don't know." Bellamy answered after some thought. The answer seemed plain, so he added. "It's a big question, what do you think?"

"I don't know either. I've thought about it before, and I don't believe in a heaven or a hell, I guess it's...nothingness? Everything just ends there. Which seems kinda lonely and sad." Aaron said, there was a pause, after all, how could Bellamy really respond to that—he continued. "But, that's a long time away. I've got decades to think about it, who knows, maybe I'll make something up about the afterlife and make a new religion. It'll be really cool and I'll have tons of followers, and they'll all worship me." He jested, turning the heavy topic light again. He was never one to dwell on sad topics for too long.

"That sounds like a cult, you're going to make a cult." Bellamy responded, suppressing a laugh.

"No! Well, maybe."

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It was three years later. It was the start of a new year, four hours into it, to be exact. Soren had a party; he invited some faces that Bellamy had recognized and others that he didn't, and despite the fact that Aaron knew none of them, he had met so many new people that he talked himself sleepy. Well, that combined with the alcohol he drank made his eyelids flutter and Bellamy could tell that he was tired from the way that he had slipped his hand into his and knocked their shoulders together weakly, a sign that it was time to go.

Bellamy had only really stayed this long because Aaron seemed to be having fun and Soren had given him the day off; he had time to catch up on the sleep he missed. They strode down the sidewalk to Bellamy's car in the softly falling snow and Aaron was already starting to sober up; he wasn't that drunk to begin with, enough to where Bellamy could tell he that got chattier and talked more with his hands—he was just tipsy. He had already stopped drinking for the night around an hour before they left, he'd probably be completely sober within an hour or two. When they first met, he would've probably drank himself until he was a puddle on the floor—it was nice to know that he had learned some form of control.

"I'm going to snuggle with Fish when we get home." Aaron said, not wanting to keep the silence. "He won't want to, I know he won't, but I'm hoping that today is the one exception. Maybe Taz will want to lay with me too." He told him; he caught himself as his foot slipped on the ice below. Bellamy instinctively ghosted his hands behind his back and waist, as if he'd catch him. He knew that Aaron would be fine, though—he wouldn't dare let his spill on the ice be their first memory of the year.
"Be careful." Bellamy smiled as he gave the remark, that playful glint in his eye; he was teasing with made Aaron snort.
"I'm always careful."

Now it was Bellamy's turn to laugh, snow flakes catching on his dark eyelashes. His gaze lingered on Aaron, who was red in the ears, cheeks, and nose from the cold five minute walk from Soren's apartment to Bellamy's car, and pulled out his keys from his coat pocket. He unlocked it; and as they approached he held the door for Aaron, who began to slide in the seat, when he stopped suddenly. Bellamy almost shut the door on his leg.

"My camera! I forgot it in here—I was going to take a picture of me, you, and Soren." He began, picking up the Polaroid camera off the floor of the car. Bellamy shut the door once his legs were safely inside, despite the fact that it was halfway through his sentence. He dipped behind the wheel just in time to catch the last part.
"You know Soren, he'll probably be over in like three days—seatbelt, Aaron—we can get a picture then." Bellamy assured him, turning the key and the car chuffed, once—twice, before coming to life.
Aaron huffed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "No, it's New Years! It's not the same! It's a holiday, Bell. I was supposed to take a picture of all of us so that I could add it to my wall—it's for memories."
"We can take one now; that way you'd at least have one picture from tonight."

That seemed to make Aaron happy, and he turned the camera to face them, leaned in to give Bellamy a kiss on the cheek as he did, and took the picture. The camera made a noise then the black image emerged from the top, and Aaron took it and shook it, waiting for the color to appear. The image began to fade in as Bellamy pulled onto the street to begin the drive home. The lighting wasn't the best, the flash made Bellamy look a bit too pale, and gave Aaron a weird shadow across his neck and shoulder, but it made the brunette happy nonetheless, turning it to show Bellamy, who could merely glance at it—the roads weren't salted yet and he wasn't about to keep his eyes off of them for too long.

Aaron tilted down Bellamy's mirror ever so slightly, making the man dip his head to avoid his arm, and set pulled out the picture that he had stuck there years back. He held the two out, comparing and contrasting. He knew he had changed, this first picture was from when he was twenty, in the beginning of their relationship when they went to France for the first time. It was the first picture he took with the Polaroid as well, and it was of Bellamy eating a croissant, mid bite and taken very off guard, with Aaron attempting to get in frame, though his face was blurry. It made him smile—his picture taking skills were still just as awful as back then, but he loved this picture. He tucked both of them above his head, trapping them in between the mirror and the roof of the car.

"See, that's why we need that picture. So that we can look back on it and think of all the memories we made this year. You, me, Fish, and Taz; we're gonna absolutely tear this year apart."

"What's the first thing on your list, then?" Bellamy asked, keeping his eyes on the road, they were coming up on the highway and the only thing out here at this hour were trucks transporting items from place to place.

"Um...I want to go ice skating, but there's also that celebration at the zoo, I also think it'd be fun if we finally tried out that restaurant that you were telling me about, maybe get another tattoo to go with the bell..." Aaron began, listing off some possibilities.

Bellamy listened, eyes still focused on the road. They were coming up on two trucks, and the large Coke-advertising semi, despite being in the fast lane, was practically crawling, even to Bellamy who was already going slow. As much as he hated it, he got behind the construction truck carrying thin poles, the faster of the two.

"What do you want to do this year, Bell?" He asked, turning his attention to the dark haired man.

"Uh..." Bellamy drew out, he was still trained on the road—he was getting a bit nervous and a bad feeling was beginning to settle in his stomach, though he wasn't exactly sure why. "Um....I think..." He was clearly distracted.

The truck in front of them careened across the road, it's cargo flying out from the back. Bellamy, watching a several of those metal poles head towards the windshield, acted as quickly as he could and practically swung the wheel to the left until he couldn't move it anymore, nearly smashing into the semi, and hit the grassy ditch in the middle of the highway, where the car flipped once. In that second that they rolled, there was broken glass flying within the space, and Bellamy shielded his eyes, instinctively reaching out for Aaron, as if gripping onto his shoulder for dear life would keep him in the car. His head had slammed against the side of the car, the air bags had deployed, and everything had taken the wind out of Bellamy, and for a second, all he saw was white. Miraculously, they landed upright.

He could feel the blood trickling down his face, it was hot and stung, the cuts from the glass were already welling with blood, and in his peripheral vision he could see that a pipe had crashed through the windshield, just between him and Aaron.

"Are you alright?" He asked, turning his head, but all of his breath left him like someone had hit him. Aaron had his head leaned back, blood dribbled down the side of his face and coated his hands; he let out a pained guttural groan, eyes closed tightly shut. A pipe stuck out from his abdomen from where it had broken through the glass and impaled him against the seat.

Bellamy couldn't stomach it. Intense panic flooded his system like broken dam and drowned him, pulling his lungs into a frenzied state as his heart rammed against his chest. What should he do? What could he do? His phone was somewhere in this mess, he couldn't call anyone, he couldn't leave, he couldn't just do nothing, Aaron was hurt, what should he do? He was losing blood. He was losing it too fast. He was dying.

Aaron groaned again. One hand was holding the pipe, and his face scrunched up with effort, weakly attempting to pull it from where it was lodged, but all it did was smear blood across the metal. His breath was shallow and labored, coming in quick and difficult, he was sucking it in from teeth clenched teeth. His left hand reached out and shakily offered it to Bellamy to hold.

He took it and Aaron feebly made it so that their fingers were intertwined, and, for a second—he smiled. It was the kind that was pained and transitioned into a grimace not too long after but he had tried his best.

"Aaron—" Bellamy choked on his own words, what could he say? "Aaron, I love you. Please, don't go."

Aaron lips moved, but the way he took in quick and shaky breaths made it difficult for him to form coherent words, and instead it just came out as a noise that sounded somewhat like "love you".

And that's when it all hit him. It was overwhelming, choking all of his senses; it was like shoving his head under a thick, inescapable liquid closing up every hole in his head until it encased his mind entirely. It was adulterated fear—but it wasn't his own.

"Aaron, it'll be okay. It'll be alright, please don't be scared. You'll be okay." Bellamy was frantic in his reassurance, desperately grasping onto whatever to could to convince Aaron to keep holding on.

Aaron let out a sob, strangled and weak, his head tilting so he could look at Bellamy. He was beginning to cry, tears falling down his paling face. He was already starting to lose so much blood, he was struggling to keep his eyes focused and Bellamy could tell.

Aaron's lips moved again, interrupted by a weak cough, which made more blood seep into his right hand. Bellamy couldn't tell what he was saying—so Aaron tried again.

It was his name. He was struggling to just call out his name. He followed it up with something else—what was supposed to be an admittance: "I'm scared".

Aaron squeezed his hand lightly afterwards, like he needed the reassurance he was there. The fear finally lessened and Bellamy was alone.