I Get Jealous

[John Murphy]

When did it become so easy for Bellamy's words to cut right through any barrier Murphy put up? It wasn't that anything he said hadn't had an effect before, because it had. Only this was different. This felt like a physical blow. No, worse. This felt like it meant something. For all his inadequate attempts to push that vexatious feeling of attachment away, now he realized it hadn't gone anywhere. It was right here, reminding him he couldn't keep anything. 

Hadn't that been what he wanted, to let go? He had decided on that before ever admitting he was trying to hold on in the first place. Anything between them that threatened to convince him of his fondness for Bellamy had been pushed down and disguised as merely hollow physical need and nothing more. The reluctant confession was silent and only to himself, fighting through the waves of anger but it made it out. He was attached. 

Not for long was his immediate counter thought, and he ignored the sadness that this fresh determination brought with it. But no matter his intention, the lingering bite of Bellamy's words left their mark. If he could only scrub it away somehow. He wanted so much to walk away without a word more but there was a thirst for retaliation, getting the last word in or anything that might help him secure that emotional break for which he was suddenly desperate. "You can't banish me, Bellamy. You're not the king any more... " He was backing up along the hallway as he spoke, gaze still fixed on Bellamy while he tried to find that confident smirk again, but it was proving to be elusive.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Murphy was right about that. He wasn't in charge here. Hell, being a leader was not easy. Right now, Bellamy felt he was more of an enforcer. Exempt of making any decisions, though offering his advice when necessary. Besides, he would still act against protocol if the situation called for it. But right now, it was about Murphy's words. The King. A term that others referred to him as. A term that Murphy had said to him. It wasn't a wanted title, but Bellamy had dismissed it. Though right now, it felt like an insult. Hell everything about this conversation was for the sake of agitating and provoking another into a reaction. An excuse to just . . . let the other person go. To be done with it.

But Bellamy doubted he would so easily be able to move on. No; he knew with certainty that he wouldn't be able to be. He had tried, with a random woman, and it had done nothing other than make him more irritated at their situation. This situation. That was only getting worse and worse with each way they lashed out at each other. "Just leave then. So I won't have to try and find a way to." An urge and a threat all at once. But it was insincere. He didn't mean it, just like he didn't mean any of the other words he had thrown at him with the intent to hurt and jab.

One of his hands clenched into a fist, though the rest of his body remained still. He didn't move from his position, though his eyes remained on Murphy as he took notice of him slowly placing distance between them as he backed up. It was for the best. Bellamy had already shoved him twice. He didn't want to do it again, and he wasn't in control of himself right now. If he was, he wouldn't be spouting out these lies. He wouldn't be acting like he hated Murphy, when it was the exact opposite. He cared too much for the younger male. The only one Bellamy hated right now, was himself.

[John Murphy]

There had been a vain hope that every step away would make it easier, give him more confidence in his exit, possibly from the camp entirely. To go where? He hadn't thought that far ahead, or even if that he would indeed go, although he was wanting to right now if only so Bellamy couldn't have chance to make him. It was flawed reasoning, and perhaps if he stayed that would be the greater offense towards Bellamy. He convinced himself either one he opted for would be a win over the other as long as he chose it himself.  

If he could shake this reluctance to leave even this hallway, never mind the camp, he might be able to see it through. For now he kept his eyes on Bellamy, despising the fact he couldn't draw his gaze away just yet. Eventually, his gaze fell to the other's hand as it balled into a fist, Murphy slowing his already leisurely pace to a halt, now some distance away. Finally he found the composure he was searching for, a grin curving his lips as he looked up once again with a taunting stare. 

Murphy took a few moments more to consider Bellamy's comment, making sure to reinforce his original plan to shut the other out, remember who he was and why walking away would be the best thing he could do. And he would... after he'd had his fill of infuriating the other man. He gave a shrug. "Why would you go to the trouble, right?" Another few steps to the rear. "You never see anything through all the way... do you, Bellamy?"

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy felt like wiping that smile off of his damn face. For one of them to be able to smile . . . he supposed it made sense. If this entire thing was one sided as Bellamy feared it was. He shouldn't be surprised. And yet it hurt. He had thought his heart had been broken after what he had done, after those who had betrayed him . . . but he was wrong. This, losing whatever it was that they had, could be what truly threatened to destroy the already crumbling organ. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to Murphy as well.

Something about being with the man had made him feel whole. Made him feel alive. A sensation he hadn't experienced in so long. One he never expected to. And the threat of that suddenly gone . . . was far too much to bare. Even though Bellamy knew he was the one pushing it away. A contradiction onto itself. But he couldn't stop it, and didn't know how to fix this. Was there anything that Murphy would want to fix? No. Why should he? Bellamy had been the one to lash out against him, sabotaging what they had before it had developed any further. But to made such an admittance was not about to happen any time soon.

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Seeing something all the way through. He had. And yet the conversation turning to that, to anything regarding Mount Weather or the other lengths Bellamy had gone through would threaten to undo him. "You think its funny. You think that all this is some twisted joke." Both a question, and a statement. That damn smile of his. That smirk. How close he was coming to revealing his feelings toward Murphy, even though he hadn't quite sorted them out himself. But he stopped himself. Of course he did. How could he let anything else apart from anger start to seep through. A slight tremble in his fist, concealed by the clenched hand but still there.

"Maybe one day you'll realize that it's not. Maybe one day you'll stop smiling and by then, it'll be too late. Cause you'll be even more alone than you were before" As he was before. Another jab, another aim to hit where it hurt. Why? Because Bellamy knew what it was to be alone. He knew the burden of it. Perhaps in some twisted way he was warning Murphy . . . though the younger male had been on his own for so long, so Bellamy doubted he was unfamiliar to the feeling. It was his anger and hurt, lashing out at him in this way. Whether he would regret the words later, he was unsure. But right now, they came out without an ounce of hesitation.

[John Murphy]

He knew plenty, he was certain of that. Or at least, enough about Bellamy that were he ever asked he could reel off a lengthy list of flaws. Enough to know the other was no good for him. Enough about himself to know he wasn't good for Bellamy either. Enough to know that a maddening unrelenting part of him wanted the other anyway. That part was doomed, even if he was still working on how to kill it off.  

Murphy let him finish before he bothered with a response. Let him ramble, let him get it all out, all his impotent feelings about how Murphy didn't understand anything for what it was. What else could Bellamy say? He'd already mentioned Murphy leaving, more or less threatened to kick him out of the camp, make sure he couldn't come back. Murphy could take whatever he threw at him without it breaking through. He was reverting to attempting to loathe him after all, nothing he said mattered. 

He was wrong. Yet again, Bellamy's words stole his grin away, the older male's final comment managing to dig in deep. He had been alone. Truly and completely. Murphy's mouth twisted momentarily in a faint grimace before he offered a quiet reply. "Well, you made sure of that..." Banishment was loneliness, but maybe he had already been on his own. "I know about you, Bellamy... I know you're a coward. And I know you're a murderer.... just like me."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy froze at the words Murphy had stated. A coward. A murder. He was right. Damn right about that. Bellamy's actions forever haunted him. He was forced to endure them every moment of every day. The one person he thought would be at his side, left him. He wasn't worth staying for her. Just like he wasn't worth Murphy's company. The hit it took, the truth of Murphy's insult . . . almost made Bellamy's knees weaken. But by some miracle, he stayed standing. His gaze left the former delinquent's though. To look away first was always a sign of weakness but right now, in this moment, he felt weak. He swallowed, his jaw clenched in emotion. Murphy was right. Bellamy was a coward. He was a murder. But there was one aspect to which Murphy was incorrect about. Bellamy . . . was so much worse than him. He knew it.

For the things he lashed out at Murphy about, Bellamy was no better for it. Directing his anger at a man who had not done as worse as Bellamy. Now, was the crippling realization of it all. The wall that he had to keep up to restrain his emotions threatened to crumble. And he hated it. He couldn't look at John. He was just trying to focus on staying standing right now, his gaze fixated on the ground. His eyes starting to well with tears, though not ones that spilled. Only a glossy sheen, an involuntary and uncontrollable reaction. He was indeed a coward. He was indeed a murder. There were no words that came to mind right now. Nothing that he could say in defense. Bellamy had killed so many people. Those in the culling. Mount Weather. And anyone else in between. He was a monster. And yet here he was, condemning Murphy for his past actions. The hypocrisy was not missed on him. It just added to the self loathing.

"You're wrong," he said, his voice hoarse, thick emotion, deeply spoken. Ever so slowly, he raised his gaze to Murphy, despising the fact that he could no longer maintain that stoic appearance. The tears still did not fall. They said that ones eyes are the window to their soul . . . and right now, it would reveal just how broken Bellamy was. A shell of a man; one lost of all humanity. Murphy, the very one who seemingly had the power to bring Bellamy back together, back to life . . . was the one that he had now hurt. So yes. Bellamy deserved this. Of course he did. Just as Murphy deserved better. His next words were not those seeking sympathy, or an attempt to diffuse this fight. They were simply words of fact. Words of certainty. For Bellamy didn't want to hear anyone tell him otherwise. He didn't deserve to be exempt from the horrible actions and crimes he had committed. His words almost a challenge, lookng to self destruct, to accept whatever else John could rightfully throw at him.  "I'm so much worse than you."

[John Murphy]

Grim satisfaction. That was exactly what he felt the moment he could see the effect he'd had. Finally. And now Bellamy had looked away, the averted downward gaze had only sweetened the moment. Murphy took pleasure in the defeat, there could be no mistake, that rush of exhilaration that he had hurt Bellamy. Really hurt him...

... Hurt him. No. Now came a terrifying surge of some awful feeling to wash away every trace of enjoyment he'd found in Bellamy's pain. Seizing Murphy as if a phantom blade had been thrust into his chest. It took him several moments to realize what it was, this sensation that had him staring at the seemingly fragmented man before him. Guilt? ... Guilt. But surely it wasn't that bad. Bellamy was stronger than this, despite his failings. Wasn't he? The silence may have been short but Murphy felt as if it went on far too long with Bellamy not saying a word in reply. 

Once he did, Murphy thought this was it. This was the attempt to continue the argument. He was wrong Bellamy had said, and Murphy was sure the other would tell him just how. Explain how he knew nothing yet again, make out that he didn't understand anything the rest of them had been through because he'd run off with Jaha for a time. Here it came, the bitter ramblings of the man Murphy had just shot down with a few words. Let it come, it would help with the guilt of it. Help Murphy to force it into submission with every fresh insult Bellamy could give. Yet none were offered. The very opposite in fact.  

He thought it to be some trick at first. Sidetrack him with such an odd comment before adding the scathing rejoinder. But as Bellamy gazed at him, any hope Murphy had of clawing for the safety of bitterness and contempt dwindled away. Now all Murphy could see was hurt. Hurt he'd caused and that which he'd brought to the surface, however much Bellamy might still be holding onto a thread of self-control, it was clear to Murphy. Bellamy was broken. What came now felt almost worse than the guilt; an urge to approach, to comfort. Murphy hated it, and yet he found himself sway as if to step towards, but stopped himself before his feet shifted at all. He couldn't move, and he couldn't find a single word in consolation.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy was uncertain as to what thoughts were rolling around in Murphy's head; what emotions were behind his gaze. He wasn't even sure he wanted to find out. He wasn't going to stand here and defend the truthful words that Murphy had struck him with. Hell, he wasn't going to stand here at all. Quietly taking a deep breath, the conversation drew to its inevitable close, as Bellamy finally turned and left, fearful of breaking down in front of the younger male. He couldn't afford to do so. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.

Instead, he just turned and walked away, immediately going to his apartment to try and regain some semblance of composure. Some fragment of control. How was it that the people you were closest to, were the ones you ended up hurting the most. Or the ones who could hurt you the most. He should have learned that from Clarke. He should have learned not to let himself be so emotionally vulnerable. But Murphy was threatening to pull him back to that state of need. Yet, to a stronger depth that Bellamy had ever felt before.

The next few days rolled by uneventfully. It entailed supply runs, which of course Bellamy went on despite the difficulty of returning to Mount Weather. It also involved mapping the area, which was good sometimes to get out of camp. And most of all, working to keep settling everyone within Arkadia. Setting things up, ensuring everyone had enough of everything. Their food supply was decent as well, so they wouldn't have to hunt for a couple more days at least. Despite the distractions Bellamy attempted to find, his mind still rested on a particular person.

Part of him wanted to seek him out, the other part of him -- the one that was dominating as he hadn't seen Murphy since their encounter in the hall -- knew that he shouldn't. It wasn't that he actively avoided John. Besides, Arkadia wasn't that big. They were bound to cross paths. And ironically, the time had finally come for that to happen. Bellamy was making his way to the Hangar to check on the bar's inventory, when he paused outside the door, about to enter at almost the exact same time as Murphy was. He suppressed an eye roll, wondering if this was fate cursing them or providing them with an opportunity. Either way, he didn't question it. He didn't go inside the Hangar though, expecting Murphy to head in first.

[John Murphy]

As the moments of silence stretched out, Murphy's expectation that Bellamy might say anything more diminished. It looked like the other was spent for now. Murphy himself figured he still had plenty to add if he let out all he could to pile on the insults, but in truth, he no longer wanted to do so. To him Bellamy's reaction had appeared so intense that Murphy had lost his taste for the argument, and with both of them failing to voice anything else, there was nothing to do but part ways. For the best and perhaps permanently. As difficult as that would be in Arkadia with the surety of the their paths crossing soon enough, the two wouldn't have to speak or even acknowledge one another. It would be ideal, just to pretend the other didn't exist anymore, but since that would likely be hard to do, claiming ignorance was the next best thing. Whenever it would be they saw each other, he would simply act as though he hadn't. 

The successful avoidance lasted longer than expected and Murphy was glad of it. The more days passed by the better he felt about his contribution to the argument, the less guilt he felt until he finally decided he didn't feel bad about it at all. Instead, he wandered Arkadia content to pass the time mostly alone. He'd been back a while and was still attempting to avoid being given a job for now. It wasn't so much he was shirking the responsibility of such a thing, but more that he felt like he didn't really owe it to anybody. Jobs were for citizens and was he really one of those in this camp? Jaha had told him he had to stop thinking of himself as a criminal and Murphy believed he had. That didn't mean he was necessarily part of the society. In fact, being part of anything had always led him down a perilous path. Better on his own, and so he would continue to avoid functioning as part of the group for the foreseeable future or for as long as he could. 

There had been some unusual items coming into the camp. Following runs to Mount Weather, the Arkers were bringing back supplies along with a few bizarre relics that Murphy couldn't fathom a reason for saving. Why anybody would hoard some of these things when they're trying to survive was beyond him, but from the little he'd heard about Mount Weather, it was a hell of a weird place. Now as he wandered through the halls towards the Hangar he passed a few people going through a box of retrieved oddities. Some assortment of costumes as far as he could tell, and they were pulling them on in fits of laughter with one guy bouncing around like a eunuch in a tutu. It seemed whoever had first gone into Mount Weather thought a puffy skirt was important to their survival. Go figure. 

For a second, Murphy thought about how he would mention it to Bellamy, crack a joke about whether or not he'd swiped one for himself, but the notion was abruptly shut down as the present state of things swung back into focus. Maybe if he saw the other man, he'd ask him anyway. Irritate him a little more. Once he spotted Bellamy he realized speaking up in jest or otherwise was the last thing he wanted to do. As the other halted at the entrance, Murphy slowed to a stop too, waiting for Bellamy to go in ahead. It was ridiculous. Apparent loathing of each other and now some faux act of politeness with both waiting for the other to go first. Less chivalrous, more stubborn. A second or two passed and Murphy spoke up with a vague wave of his arm towards the entrance in clear false civility, tainted with a touch of impatience. "After you."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy didn't move, and neither did Murphy. It seemed that the two of them reached this sort of standstill, as if the one who moved first would reaveal so much. Bellamy was hardly looking at the younger male, having nothing to say to him after their emotionally intense argument that had taken place in the days before. "Go ahead," he said dismissively, not even certain he wanted to go inside anymore. Not that he should be altering his entire tasks around whether Murphy was there or not. But the man was having more of an affect on him than Bellamy cared to admit.

He knew what part of it was. Why it had been so . . . easy to be with him. Bellamy could look at Murphy, and feel oddly safe. Despite the violence they had inflicted on each other, it was something more than that. Because, Murphy did not remind Bellamy of what he had done in Mount Weather. As John was not among the delinquents, Bellamy could look at him . . . without the daunting reminder of what it took to protect him. It had given him a security he had never felt before. And it was also why he could not so easily get over him. If this was in fact, over. "Don't make this awkward," he said bluntly, as if accusing him of doing so.

[John Murphy]

He should have known they'd end up at this ridiculous impasse. Both reluctant to move first with the two childishly clinging to the upper hand when in actuality, neither had it. But now it seemed as though stepping in first would be conceding, even if Murphy was sure he didn't care either way. Still, this stubborn hesitation. Murphy fixed a stare on Bellamy, albeit with a relaxed gaze to ensure the other man knew this encounter was of no concern to him. The past argument, the meeting and Bellamy himself. None of it mattered. No room for concessions now. 

Only it was appearing to be more problematic than Murphy anticipated, the longer he focused on Bellamy, the more remnant emotions from the days before began to wind their way back in. It was infuriating to be unable to hate the man and Murphy wished for the simplicity of it as they stood there, or better yet, for indifference. For circumstances involving Bellamy to have no effect whatsoever. No such luck. Just as some awful distant urge to strike up a conversation made itself known, the other had added his accusation and Murphy recovered his determination. A tamed grin appeared and he breathed a sound in mild amusement as he moved to step past Bellamy, bypassing the Hangar entrance with intent to continue along the hall instead. "Right..." It felt too much like giving in, but he countered immediately with a hard nudge of his shoulder to Bellamy's as he stepped past him.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

That damn smirk re-emerged on Murphy's face, and Bellamy lacked the patience for it. Perhaps it was the frustration that had built since the departure of their last encounter. Or the agitation over the fact that Murphy could still have such an effect on him, despite Bellamy's attempt to act like he didn't. He hated him for that alone. And all the while, knew that it wasn't hatred that prompted such an emotional reaction. When John moved to step past him, giving his shoulder strong nudge, it was all it took to trigger Bellamy.

One simple touch, or single word, or smile on his face . . . in this case, it had been a combination of all three. Bellamy could no longer idly stand and watch Murphy pass him. The nudge had forced him to react. He grabbed Murphy but the collar to stop him from passing and instead, shoved him forward . . . far harder than the one he had given him on his shoulder in mere passing. Bellamy took a couple steps toward him, though not to invade his personal space like the last time. "I'm sick of your bull shit, Murphy," he snapped at him. "You got something to say, you wanna do something, do it." He gave Murphy another shove.

And regardless of their past shared intimacy, he was well aware that this provoking was not going to elicit that kind of response, if it was going to instigate one at all. But Bellamy was just sick of all this. He knew that it was largely due to his actions at Mount Weather that threatened to make him crumble. That made him so . . . on edge. All it took was one person he found himself caring about to do something, and he could no longer suppress the emotional reaction. Never did he think that it would be Murphy who held such a hold and power over him.

[John Murphy]

Stumbling back several steps following the shove he still couldn't give up his grin, not yet. He had expected some kind of retaliation for the rough nudge to the other's shoulder but part of him hoped for Bellamy to just let it go, or mutter an irritable comment at the most. Let him walk away with some satisfaction at the closure of whatever had surfaced between them. An ending to this unwilling bind that had Murphy growing fond of the other man. Whether or not he'd have truly been contented with that was irrelevant now, with Bellamy already stepping a touch closer to confront.  

Murphy looked on with the same amusement once the outburst began. Here we go again, he thought, only this time he wouldn't be feeling guilty about a single thing once it was over. Something to say... do something... again he had plenty but was more eager to speak up with fresh insults than offer anything physically just yet. The second shove tipped the balance. Inexplicably so, as if a violent reaction had been precariously hovering just beyond awareness. But Bellamy's last move had seemed to spark it without warning and Murphy snapped. 

Maybe he should have done this before, back when they'd been firing words at each other to attempt some damage. As much as words could often cut a deeper wound than any assault, at times a literal attack was all that would do. It came with a swift swing of Murphy's clenched fist aimed right at Bellamy's mouth.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Truth be told, Bellamy wasn't entirely certain how Murphy would react. He could physically respond, he could walk away, he could mouth off, or he could just continue to smirk at him. Which, Bellamy was fairly certain would have caused him to take matters into his own hand and make the first attack. But . . . it was unnecessary. Because the older male's actions were enough to provoke him. In a swift moment, he felt the impact of the punch. It wasn't enough to knock Bellamy to the ground, but the power of it caused his head to turn, as he staggered back a couple steps. He immediately felt his mouth fill with blood, the shock of it just numbing him.

Before he felt a fire raging through him. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he remained shocked only for a few moments. He would have struck back, of course he would have . . . but apparently, there had been witnesses. "HEY!" Bellamy wasn't able to even turn his head in this moment, despite the familiarity of the voice. Two guards rushed toward the scene as they quickly assessed what was happening. One of them immediately responded, pulling out the shock lasher and pressing it against Murphy's chest. The other guard looked at Bellamy, as the Blake sibling felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't look at the guardsman though. His tongue ran over the inside wall of his cheek, feeling the damage of the punch.

Bellamy snapped out of whatever state of shock the punch had put him in, which was also an attempt to keep his emotions in check. "That's enough," Bellamy finally spoke, taking a few steps toward the guardsman who was a little too shock lash happy with the weapon. Somewhat standing between Murphy and the guard, Bellamy locked eyes with the official. As he tucked his weapon away, the other guardsman pulled Murphy to his feet, cuffing his wrists. "You're under arrest for the assault of a guardsman." Bellamy's mind was so overwhelmed that it took him a moment to realize . . . that he was the guardsman. He watched as they dragged Murphy away to the cells. He already knew he was not going to press charges. And the scene was a bit familiar . . . watching Murphy paying the price for a crime that, well, he was technically guilty of this time but it didn't come without good reason.

[John Murphy]

There was the satisfaction he sought, or at least, a fragment of it. The blow and its effect instantly fired up a desire to repeat the strike, to keep going. It felt now as if that would be the solution to beat down any incessant inclinations to feel anything favorable for Bellamy. To force it into submission with every punch they might throw at each other. How could there be anything left after that? More desperate reasoning to cloak reality. After all that had happened between them, their crimes against one another, the scorn and condemnation passed back and forth, he had still found something resembling solace in the other. If not that, then a shallow hope of it at least. A fist fight was a poor candidate if their entire history hadn't managed to obliterate the chance for such a thing.

Murphy had no opportunity to continue nor to escape the punishment, delivered with immediate efficiency that dropped him to the ground. Control left him as a vicious jolt shot through, robbing him of breath while he could do nothing but writhe in pain and wait for it to cease. He'd been shock lashed before on the Ark, but it wasn't an experience you could grow used to, and the guard wielding it this time seemed to be drawing out the event. When it finally ended he gasped for air, rolling onto his side with a thought to stand right away if only in some pointless defense. But for the moment, he was helpless until the effect began to wane. Not quickly enough. 

He need not have worried as he was dragged to his feet, willing his still weak legs not to give way as they cuffed his hands behind his back. Under arrest. Maybe it had been worth it. Maybe it was a reminder that he and Bellamy would always somehow be on different sides no matter where they stood. He didn't bother with a glance to the other as he was led away.

Tag: Bellamy Blake