In This Pain There Is Healing

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy was indeed a bit pleased with himself, reflected in his slightly cocky smile as Murphy voiced the words. The older male turned to face his partner as he seemingly was about to move onto Bellamy's lap . . . a rather welcome position. But instead, he paused . . . just as Bellamy had. He supposed he deserved that, being toyed with the way he had Murphy. It added that playfulness between them which was an enjoyable aspect of their physical intimacy. He was rather intrigued as to what Murphy was going to do though, so just intently watched him. The smile on Bellamy's lips faded when he ran his finger over his member, causing him to take in a deep breath at the pleasurable sensation of his touch.

Which only made him craving even more. He watched him, intent longing as he put his finger that was otherwise touching Bellamy, between his lips. There was something arousing about that, and Bellamy had to fight the urge to either move Murphy's hand back there, or lean in for that long overdue kiss. He miraculously restrained himself though, John's teasing words just further fueling his need for him. He had yet to find his release . . . but this wasn't his first time. He had some semblance of self control. Maybe. He supposed he was about to find out. It took him a few moments to recover from the deprivation of having Murphy on his lap -- though it had only been an assumption -- as well as his hand trailing over him.

"I could offer more than you do," he teased back, able to counter Murphy's own tease once an idea formulated in his mind. He leaned toward him, his hand firmly grasping Murphy's member and almost immediately began to stroke it, his hands moving in repetitive motions up and down his impressive length. The action was quickly paced, clearly wasting no time in building up his release . . . though he abruptly stopped before Murphy could reach that point of bliss. Waiting a few moments, just long enough for that closeness to ebb away, Bellamy started up again, somewhat hovered over Murphy to get easy access to the sensitive region between his legs, watching him.

Bellamy's hand moved quickly once more over his manhood, skillfully rubbing it up and down over the entirety of his length, and just as before, once he felt that familiar throbbing, ceased his actions. This time, he didn't continue them. He left him unfulfilled. Instead, he kissed the corner of Murphy's mouth, before regaining his former position, sitting upright next to him. "Or not," he finally said, his words related to his initial statement of offering him more. "You can finish yourself off," he said contently, a smirk on his face, as he sat with ease and that familiar smugness that seemed to be a constant whenever one of them toyed with the other. Though he wasn't going to lie, the thought of watching Murphy do so wasn't entirely unappealing. Quite the opposite in fact.

[John Murphy]

Murphy suspected the effect his words and actions had on the other, or at least he hoped they had done as he intended and frustrated Bellamy even just a little. He enjoyed it, perhaps too much at times but it was always in affectionate fun, the older male more than able to counter his teasing, as Murphy expected him to do now. He would welcome it and possibily retaliate once again, for as long as he could. 

He breathed a quiet laugh at Bellamy's comment on offering more, ready to speak up and tell him to go right ahead if that was the case, but his partner's hand was around him before he managed the retort. The firm grasp and subsequent speed of movement had any clever comeback catching in Murphy's throat for now, a sharp intake of breath at the abrupt attention while he was still somewhat sensitive from the fun they'd already had. Once he had begun to reach a point where he found himself beginning to grab with one hand at the sheet on the far side of them, Bellamy halted. To Murphy's displeasure, made clear with the brief glare he offered his partner, though it swiftly faded when the motion was resumed. 

Now his gaze wandered from Bellamy down to watch the other's skillful hand working him, the effect evident in Murphy's gasps as the other eventually brought him close yet again, only to abandon entirely this time. He couldn't hide a huff of irritation at the ceasing touch, eyeing his partner with a narrowed gaze as the other settled back down. Tilting his head back to the wall Murphy let his eyes close a moment, taking the time to compose. Just a second or two longer to claw back some control. Soon enough rolled his head to the side to focus on Bellamy. "Since you can't seem to finish the job. Is your arm hurting?" A grasp at himself and he was resuming where Bellamy left off, though at a slower pace, a stare fixed on his partner as he watched him with that familiar smirk. 

He drew it out just a little to claim some satisfaction of revenge, but he knew thanks to Bellamy, he was already too excited to hang around for too long. Withdrawing his hand he moved now to take the position he had silently suggested earlier, turning to face Bellamy as he straddled his lap with a slow rub of himself against before he curled his hand around both of them in a loose hold.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Seeing Murphy's reaction added to the sensation. Hell, it was arousing just to see the way he reacted to Bellamy's touch. The way his face and body shifted with pleasure, with that need for release. Bellamy almost felt guilty for withdrawing, but that guilt was hardly as dominant as the smugness. He was fairly certain he would make it up to his partner later. For right now, he was enjoying seeing him wither under his touch and then grow irritated with Bellamy's abrupt stopping. His words only added to the older male's amusement. "No," he responded with a smirk, nonchalantly, smugly. "Works perfectly fine." And, a bit smart assery. His eyes didn't stay on John's for very long though.

They fell down to where he finished the job that Bellamy had purposely failed in completing. Bellamy's tongue ran over his lips as he watched, fighting that overwhelming urge to touch him even though he had just done so. Damn Murphy for being so enticing. He doubted he would ever grow tired of watching him, of touching him. His gaze only broke when he noticed John shift positions, sitting astride him. Bellamy deeply inhaled at the pleasure of Murphy's member rubbing against his own, as the older male's head pressed back against the surface of the wall where he was still seated upright.

He swallowed, the sensation heightening even more when Murphy wrapped his hand around him. His own hand wandered over Murphy's back, trailing down to grip one of the firm cheeks of his behind. With this grasp, he pushed Murphy forward a little, to encourage their centers to rub against one another again, despite Murphy's hold on them. It just made everything stronger, forcing an involuntary and breathy groan from Bellamy. He did it again, pushing Murphy against him as Bellamy slightly thrust his own hips upwards to add further impact of their already sensitive regions clapping together in the otherwise silent room.

[John Murphy]

The response was a delight to watch, there was no doubt. The parting of Bellamy's lips as he inhaled at the touch, still a little wet from when he had run his tongue over them only moments ago. Another small but captivating thing to see and one not limited to private quarters, but a habit of Bellamy's that Murphy loved to catch. Perhaps even before he would admit it to himself. 

The abrupt push forward once Bellamy had grabbed from behind stirred his excitement even more, heat coiling low in his stomach when a groan escaped the other followed by thrust. The sound, the grab, the movement, all prompting a little more motion from him in return as he offered a slight grind of his hips in a bid for more friction. All while doing his best to offer minimal sound in return, as difficult as it was considering who he was with and the position they were in.  

Now he thought to press his lips to his partner's, but it felt he would be conceding too much defeat, too quickly, the thrill of challenging each other still tugging at him. On the other hand, perhaps it would help. Murphy leaned in, first to run his tongue between his partner's lips, tracing the path of Bellamy's own tongue, and pressed their mouths in a somewhat aggressive kiss. The contact above was accompanied with a brief tightening of his hand around them both below, only for both to be neglected as Murphy leaned back, his hand curling only around his own member now as he resumed his earlier pace with a pop of his brows.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Feeling Murphy encourage the contact in this sensual rubbing of their bodies only thickened Bellamy's arousal. His ache that craved release after their actions. Mainly Murphy's actions. The man knew how to leave Bellamy mindless with need or mindless with pleasure. Usually one led to the other and right now, he was striving for the latter. His hand gripping his member certainly helped, wanting to encourage him to move over him faster, to grind against him harder.

Yet no words came out and the possibility of them were soon gone due to the perfect distraction: Murphy's lips. Bellamy immediately responded, parting his lips to welcome Murphy's active muscle of his tongue, drinking in the younger male's delicious taste as it ran along his own. His tongue danced against his in the battle for dominance, slightly raising his head off the surface and titling it to the side to get better access and explore every inch of his mouth that he could reach.

He tasted so damn good in so many ways, quenching a thirst that Bellamy hadn't even realized he had . . . until the very first time he had kissed Murphy. Now, it felt like he was addicted to it, to what he had to offer. Unable for his cravings to ever be fully sated. Bellamy returned the playful aggression with the fervent hunger he crushed his lips against Murphy's with. His hand went to the back of the former delinquent's head, running his hands through his straighter locks as he gripped them, pressing him against him harder to seal the contact between them.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long for Murphy leaned back and Bellamy let him go. He instead watched him, though his face slightly twisted in pain when he felt the immediate deprivation of Murphy's hold around him. Bellamy supposed he deserved that, but that didn't mean he was going to idly lay here and accept it. He was momentarily distracted, watching the way John was handling himself, the way his hand moved over him. Bellamy's eyes fixed on his actions, before trailing up to his face to see the expression of pleasure.

It became too much to simply bare witness to. He needed to be a part of it. Yet, he wanted Murphy to be the one to take care of him in that sense. "You got two hands," he began to say. With that, he took Murphy's free hand -- the one not on himself -- and Bellamy moved it to his own member. "Use them." He didn't release Murphy's hand once it was there; instead, he moved it against him, creating that rhythm that Bellamy needed.

He wanted to feel Murphy's hand stroking him, not his own, which was why he had guided him to it and helped facilitate the movement. Not that Murphy ever needed help in that department . . . but he wasn't going to risk the younger male stopping just to tease him. Bellamy's breathing hitched a little as he continued to grip John's hand and move it along Bellamy's own length, a quiet breathy groan of pleasure escaping his lips. Between this, and watching Murphy's own actions on himself . . . well, it was only making him reach that peak sooner, still desperate to find it.

[John Murphy]

A laugh escaped once Bellamy forced Murphy's hand to engage in the action, offering no resistance to it just yet, but no assistance either. The effect of their reciprocal battle to win the game was exhilirating. One which they'd played often and with similar enjoyment of the competition. The rivalry somehow worked to bring them closer, both physically and emotionally. While it strengthened the bond that had formed between them as each playful grin and gesture built on trust and affection. 

Still, Murphy let Bellamy do the work, even if the other was using his hand to do it. Instead content to amuse himself with the situation a little longer, making no effort to hide the fact. Finally, he took over. Edging back a short distance, enough to move one hand, having released himself now, down between Bellamy's legs to palm and play. Stealing the lead from Bellamy with his other hand and now picking up the pace himself. 

Bellamy already being close meant if Murphy intended to draw out the teasing he would have to act on it quickly. Watching his partner's growing excitement began to sway him from it, wanting now to see the other satisfied, to feel it. He was quick to withdraw both hands, abruptly sliding down and nudging Bellamy's legs apart to give him space to settle between. He couldn't help a brief look of mischief as if he were about to retreat again, but a moment later his mouth was closing around his partner's member, tongue once circling the crown before resuming the pace. Quickly bobbing with a few slower slides down as far as he could go in hopes of pushing Bellamy over the edge, and keeping up the movement once he was finally rewarded with a taste.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

When Murphy took over the movements, Bellamy relinquished that control, though was all too aware that the younger male may stop if only to encourage the teasing . . . or get some revenge. Considering what Bellamy had done earlier. His had fell to Murphy's upper leg, gripping it as his breathing grew heavier from all that John was making him feel. His skillful hand moving over him in a hurried pace, and Bellamy could feel himself growing close. So close. Only to have it ripped away just when he would have fallen over the edge. Bellamy raised his head to look at Bellamy, a glare quite evident on his face and if he wasn't so damn mindless with need, perhaps he would already be plotting his revenge. But no. He needed his release too badly. Murphy had brought him so close, that it was painful. But despite their teasings, they seldom ever actually left the other in such an unattended to ache. This was no exception.

The second Bellamy felt the warmth and wetness of Murphy's mouth and tongue, Bellamy sharply inhaled from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure it provided him. He involuntarily thrust his hips, deeper into Murphy's mouth while trying to contain himself but hardly to any avail. The older male's eyes squeezed shut, one hand falling to the back of Murphy's head, tangling his fingers in his hair with a firm grip. Like hell he was going to let him stop or pull away.

His other hand gripped the pillow behind him, tightly grasping the material until his knuckles slightly trembled. Breathy moans of pleasure uncontrollably escaped him every few moments, Murphy's name quietly uttered in a breathless pleasurable sound. His mouth was just as, if not more, skilled at their task. Bellamy knew he was damn lucky to have Murphy as a partner, not just for the physical but for so much more. It didn't take long before he couldn't hold back, not that he was even trying at this point. His member throbbed before Bellamy let out a large exhalation and found his release, exploding with Murphy's mouth.

The impact of it, as well as how it was built up, left Bellamy overwhelmed, the ecstatic feeling coursing through every fiber of his being. Basking in the euphoric aftermath, Bellamy's hold on Murphy's hair and the pillow loosened. Now finally, he could experience the mindlessness associated with pleasure as oppose to need. It was in these moments that he needed to hold him, that he needed to have him as close as possible. Bellamy slightly sat up, only to get at a better angle to pull Murphy up. The older male lay back down, this time, with Murphy on top of him, as Bellamy's hand ran soothingly over John's back in a repeated caressing gesture. His arms wrapped around him as he looked up at the beautiful male. He leaned toward him for a kiss, lightly embracing him, yet filled with so many emotions, inclusive of gratitude. Murphy was definitely special, and Bellamy didn't know how he was so damn lucky to have him in his life, in this way.

[John Murphy]

The grip on his hair was an encouragement, again done with the perfect balance of restriction and enthusiasm. So too was the upward thrust of his partner's hips, a further testament to the pleasure, welcomed and accommodated by Murphy. As his lips traveled up, he cast a glance to Bellamy once the other male began to moan, only to let his eyes close as he continued to coax him to his peak. 

When the other finally reached, sooner rather than later, Murphy stayed put as his partner rode it out, enjoying the taste along with every slight vibration rippling from the other. With the grasp in his hair soon loosened, he pulled back with a quick swallow and slid back down. Twice more before he pulled away, lifting his head and with an absent wipe at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, fixed his gaze on Bellamy.  

He began to push himself up a little, more than content to watch a while longer, until Bellamy tugged him to lay on top, Murphy happily obliging the adjustment. Still propped up just enough to study his partner, he did just that. Attentive to the gratifying recovery, the gradual steadying breaths, along with the awareness of the gentle thump of the other's heartbeat against him with their chests pressed together as they were. All the while, the calming trail of Bellamy's hand along his back encouraging a bloom of warmth at the intimacy of it all. The kiss sparked a flourish of emotion as Murphy reciprocated, his fingers weaving into Bellamy's hair once again to now settle there, as if it were another small claim on the other.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Everything about this moment felt nothing less than incredible. To find that deep, emotional bond and companionship with another. It was something Bellamy had never had. Not in this way. The intimacy of it was unfamiliar, and yet something he had never known he needed or would thrive with until found . . . in Murphy. He continued to kiss him, deepening the embrace, but lazily, still basking in the aftermath of their actions. The vigor of them, the intensity . . . this was the perfect way to maintain that contact without immediately building them up again and going back to that playful teasing and both verbal and non verbal banter.

This, felt damn perfect. Murphy's hand in his hair caused Bellamy to breathe into the kiss with an added pleasure at the way his fingers curled around his hair. A sensation that Bellamy always found extremely soothing and comforting. His hand continued to caress Murphy's bare back, enjoying the feeling of his skin, the warmth of it under the his hands. Bellamy slowly eased out of the kiss, though didn't go far, his lips still extremely close to his partner's. He looked at him through heavy lidded eyes, holding emotion and sentiment for what they had. "Hey Murphy," he began to say, his voice lower than his usually low natural tone.

Leaning forward again to lightly kiss him, he lingered and as before, eased out of the embrace, his forehead resting against John's as he spoke, keeping his eyes closed to soak in this moment. "I'm glad you're here." His words held a stronger depth than merely glad for him being at Arkadia. He was glad that Murphy was with him, emotionally. That they were together. That he was willing to be with him when Bellamy knew he didn't deserve the comfort that such a companion could give him. He knew how deep he felt for Murphy . . . and he feared it, for his partner's sake. Because those who Bellamy loved, tended to get hurt. And, he never wanted to hurt Murphy.

[John Murphy]

Affection was a rare thing before Bellamy and in truth, something that Murphy was even now still growing used to, always battling the faint urge to distrust it along with whoever offered it. But he'd found an unusual sanctuary in Bellamy, the other man providing a strange safety amid so much uncertainty, one to which he loved to retreat. None of this was simple, but occasionally, in times like this moment, it felt like it could be. As if it were even for just a fleeting embrace and reality would soon come crashing in, but remnants of these moments between them had begun to reach into the times apart, like a comfort of memory and anticipation until they saw each other again. Not only to cling carnally but to simply be together.  

The physical and emotional sides of their relationship seemed to intertwine more and more each day, pulling them closer along with it. Bellamy's words were like a therapy, the whole man himself in fact, a remedy for something Murphy couldn't quite name, knowing only that he needed it. And here he had it. As they lingered, heads resting together with Murphy watching his partner, a smile picked up as he offered a reply, any thought for making fun vanishing in the warm sincerity of the moment. "Me too."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Sleep had been a bit easier to find for the remainder of the night. Murphy's presence a comfort, their actions and words exchanged enough to distract the former leader's mind to the point of lulling into a light slumber. He awoke when it was time to start the day, having several things to get done for it. It was a day like most others . . . and after a few of them, came the dreaded supply run. Kane always gave him the option not to go, but Bellamy felt like he had to. In order to help protect those who went as well.

It was apparently risky, for the Grounders did not take too kindly of them supposedly populating the place. Which was hypocritical, because they helped the Grounders as well with the medical supplies they got from Mount Weather. But such hypocrisy was to be expected from the Grounders. All that mattered right now, was that the ceasefire forced them into an era of relative peace. And both groups certainly needed that. Murphy would accompany them on the supply run, which helped stabilize Bellamy's emotions some, knowing that his partner would be there. He still had not told Murphy in full detail what had happened at Mount Weather. And he wasn't sure if Murphy had found out from anyone else. The main thing was, that they hadn't had a conversation about it.

While this wasn't the first supply run, it felt most difficult than the rest. He made his way to the door, staring as the others started heading inside to load up the rovers with what they could. Bellamy's tunnel vision tuned out everyone else, everything else. He just went inside, numbed to everything. The familarity of the setting, the pain that this facility held. He moved deeper inside, his subconscious knowing his path while he felt as if he was walking underwater. He didn't even realize where he had arrived until he saw it. Standing in the doorway of the preschool class. He had interacted with Lovejoy's son, seeing the small children holding hands, making their way to school. Bellamy just stood, staring at the abandoned room. Toys, storybooks . . . innocent children had once come here to learn. To smile. To laugh. To play. And Bellamy had robbed them of their future.

The pain of all this numbed his entire body, unable to emotionally react, which just caused everything to build up inside of him . . . threatening to break. He had no idea how long he was standing here for until his mind caught up with them, knowing that he would have to return to the main level. Supply runs never lasted long as they could not get caught lingering here in Mount Weather. Once he made his way back up, he ignored any inquiries about where he was, heading straight out the door and into the rover. He ran his head over his face to keep himself composed, turning away from everyone, not talking to anyone as the drive home to Arkadia commenced. He just stared blindly out the window, looking at nothing but feeling everything.

[John Murphy]

This was the first time he'd gone along on a supply run and perhaps the first time he'd shown more than faint interest in accompanying the others. Prior to this he'd mostly had little to no interest in visiting the place. It wasn't as though it held any attraction or curiosity for him. He'd seen the assortment of items the Arkers had salvaged thus far, some useful, some downright bizarre, and as far as venturing to the scene of a massacre if the stories where anything to go by... all it seemed to be was a tomb of memories from a battle the Arkers had won.  

Deep down he knew it represented more than that. To those who had been held captive and those who had set out to free them, it was not only a location, but a haunting remnant that pursued them wherever they went. This Murphy considered to be the truth certainly with some of the Arkers who had been there, certainly with Bellamy though he had never discussed it with him. Murphy could plainly see how it weighed heavy on his partner, particularly upon his return from supply runs when Bellamy struggled to hold the veil of composure in place. Despite the stories that had drifted through the camp in the time since the events at Mount Weather, some had seemed elaborated, mixed up, and many had simply been too vague to really piece together a true picture of what happened.  

Though he had listened to a few, Murphy had placed no real confidence in their validity and accepted only the known details. Many had made it out of Mount Weather and those who had taken them were now dead. All of them. It didn't take a genius to figure out it had been an execution of sorts, but the details were ever shifting. It was to be expected when so many hadn't been there to see for themselves, and most of those who had weren't likely to want to share over and over again. Reliving it. And so he hadn't hounded Bellamy for the tale, knowing that it would eventually come out when and if the other let it. 

It was with the expectation of the negative effect of a visit to Mount Weather, that Murphy had watched Bellamy as they'd arrived, as they'd climbed out of their vehicles and headed inside. With a slowed pace he'd passed by the other man and taken in the hollow look of him, but without stopping Murphy had gone on inside with the others to get on with the task at hand. In and out as soon as possible seemed to be the idea and although a few wanted to linger and explore, most of them were eager to leave. Once they did, Murphy had sat opposite Bellamy for the journey home, having kept quiet as others had questioned his whereabouts and left the other to his thoughts while the group made their way back to camp. Thinking that he had caught a harrowing flicker of pain in Bellamy's gaze before the other man had turned away from them all.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

The ride home felt long. Tedious. More than usual. Bellamy was using every ounce of strength and control to keep himself composed. He stared out at the window, not daring to look at anyway. He knew Murphy was here, and often relied on him as a strong support. But right now . . . he just needed to be in the walls of his apartment. Away from lingering gazes, all of whom expected him to remain strong, and stoic. Those who still looked at him to lead. To be the strong figure that everyone expected of him. He couldn't be that right now. He was threatening to crumble. The moment they got into the garage, Bellamy leaped out of the jeep, surrendering his weapon with the rest to be contained. He didn't say a word to anyone.

He didn't wait for Murphy, which he often did if they ever ventured out. He couldn't. The fear of his partner seeing him weak as well in his mind. He immediately went to his apartment, one more frequently occupied by the two of them. Upon entering he closed the door behind him and went to the bathroom. His hands gripped the edge of the sink, his head hanging between his shoulders as he forced himself to get a grip. To keep strong. The last breakdown he had was shortly after Clarke had left, and he found himself in his sister's company . . . learning of the bomb falling on Tondc.

He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't let himself be weak. Not when their people needed him to be strong. The inability to control himself only caused him to lash out, his hand sweeping over the counter and knocking all of its contents to the ground, uncaring of the mess or whether anything broke. He leaned his back against the wall, his hands covering his face for a moment as he ran them over it. Get a grip. Get a grip. Yet the mental chant did nothing to keep it controlled, for he already felt the string of tears threatening to emerge.

[John Murphy]

When they arrived back at the camp, he let Bellamy go without a call after him. It wasn't unusual that either of them might head off without a word to each other, both going through times where they craved solitude and having no need to explain it to the other before taking it. There was very rarely a reason to, as neither were strangers to troubles that would occasionally break through to drag them down, enough to temporarily escape and privately build the walls back up piece by piece. So they could face the world again without exposing too much of themselves. A mutual respect of space and independence that formed part of their relationship. They could be close when it was right to be. When they gravitated to one another, whether in casual company or clinging in private moments, but to smother each other would be a mistake. Neither would, neither did, and it worked without any specific boundaries set in place.  

As unspoken as this reciprocated allowance was, so too was knowing when to follow, even if whichever of them had retreated hadn't realized their need for the other's company. Still, there was always room for error. To misjudge and overstep. As Bellamy had handed over his weapon and left the group the moment they'd returned, Murphy watched him go but delayed seeking him out to instead assist with unloading the rovers. Soon enough he slipped away before their task was over, deciding he was done with it, and made his way through the halls of the Ark.

He doubted Bellamy would have gone anywhere busy but likely opted for the privacy of his apartment, considering he hadn't spoken a word the entire journey home. Murphy slowed his step to draw out the approach and give Bellamy at least a little more time alone before he joined him. Reaching the other man's apartment, he caught a clatter from inside as he pushed the door open and stepped in with a cursory glance around. Bellamy was clearly here though not in view, so Murphy would wait. Quietly closing the door behind he leaned back against and stayed there to maintain some space between should Bellamy exit the bathroom. Not for safety or any such thing, but to offer even a little of the coveted distance the other appeared to need for the moment.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy had lost track of time, not having the faintest idea of how long he'd been leaning against the wall of the bathroom like this. In a daze almost. As if time meant nothing. As if he was a prisoner of his own mind. The classroom. each desk representing a child. And so many more than the ones he had seen. Their door opening and closing was what snapped him back into reality. Murphy was here. He turned toward the tap, putting it on and splashing some water over his face. He looked at his reflection, often loathing the guilty man he saw looking back at him. The monster of a man.

His eyes still red from the tears that had started to fall so freely. He couldn't do that to Murphy. He couldn't make his burden, his partner's. It wasn't fair to him. Bellamy dried his face off, sniffing as he emerged from the bathroom, seeing Murphy where he was. Words seemed to flee his mind in this moment. He knew that Murphy was his saving grace in this entire thing. That without him, there was no chance in hell he would have survive the aftermath of Mount Weather.

"Everything get unloaded?" He asked nonchalantly, his eyes averted from Murphy as Bellamy continued to stand just outside the bathroom entrance in the main room. He may have asked the question but he wasn't overly interested in the topic. It was just a distraction. It was after all how he had dealt with everything; throwing himself into the work that needed to be done. But this time, he had run away from it. He felt on edge. As if he was drowning in all the blood he had on his hands. The verge of a breakdown; a place he didn't want to be. And yet, all he could do was lamely ask about a task that he often assisted with. But not this time.