He keeps his gaze fixed on her face, or what he can see of her face, anyways, thanks to angles and the fall of her hair, depending which way her face is turned. And when she puts the bandage in his hand, Bellamy's fingers curl up--to accept the little weight, and to close up around her hand too, in a brief pressure.

"Just make sure you're okay." Gruff advice, in contrast to the press of his fingers. He doesn't overstay there; he'll let her go if she twitches, or pulls away. It's a small gesture anyways, one that mostly goes on out of sight. "wWhatever that means, however you get peace."

Peace is such a fragile thing anyways. So is life. And dying--selfish was a bad word for it, maybe. But the dying are dying anyways. Saying that aloud would never come out right. Bellamy doesn't know Asher, cares only because Gwen cares, because--for whatever reason--he cares about her.