I Get Jealous

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

There was no victory felt in the unfolding of events. It had been bad timing that the guards saw what they did. Bellamy had no intention of pressing charges then, and he wouldn't now either. Going to the guards to exempt Murphy though wasn't good enough. They were following the laws of Arkadia. Bellamy would need to go to the Chancellor. Fortunately, he was close with Kane who was present at the time as he explained the situation to both of them. Murphy's crime -- this particular one -- wasn't serious. He had punched him. It was bound to happen at some point.

The tension building up between the two of them unleashed in such a way was to be expected. Though, obviously Bellamy would leave out that bit of the story. He merely explained to them that he had no intention of pressing charges and it was hardly worth keeping him locked up for. The two adults were in agreement and informed him that he could release the prisoner. Bellamy gave a short nod and promptly did as instructed. It was only a matter of a couple hours or so until everything was sorted out, and he made his way to the cell. "Open the door," he informed them. The guard did as instructed with no questions asked, as they could tell by Bellamy's confidence and authority that was done with the Chancellor's approval. With Murphy no longer cuffed, Bellamy went in and grabbed the former delinquent by the arm, practically dragging him out.

He didn't say a word to John, or to the guard. He just pulled Murphy along with him, nothing intimate or telling of these actins. But they needed to talk. And if more punches were thrown, then they would need to go somewhere private. Which was why he pushed into Murphy's apartment, shoving the younger male inside and closing the door behind them. Bellamy kept a bit of distance between them, composing himself, trying to keep his emotions in check this time. But it was always so damn hard with Murphy. "What the hell are we doing?" He finally blurted out. What were they doing -- besides each other. But that hadn't lasted. It had turned into . . . what, jealousy? To resentment. To insults. To physical altercations. To this. Just . . . what the hell were they doing.

[John Murphy]

Who knew how long he would be kept in here, or in fact, what would happen to him once someone came for him. Life may have been different on the ground but some things never changed. Those is power still did whatever they wanted, whatever they decided was the 'right thing'. Punching a guard was a felony on the Ark, so what would it be now? If only he'd got a few more in, get his crime's worth so to speak. Murphy found himself playing over the event in his mind, thoughts eventually drifting back to earlier days on the ground although he soon diverted back to the present. Come what may, right now he wasn't feeling an ounce of regret. 

Once he heard Bellamy's voice he decided this was it. Either he'd be dealt some sort of sentence, lenient or otherwise, or Bellamy would exact some revenge right here with the other guards looking the other way. Murphy stayed put even as the other male headed into the cell and towards. Bracing himself for a hit, he resisted when Bellamy grabbed a hold, though only momentarily, now being led along freely as the other took them out of the cell. There was no point trying anything here with the other guardsmen around, he would have no chance and no doubt another shock lashing. So he let himself be led, or rather dragged away. Out of the cell but apparently with no freedom on the other side of it. 

As tempting as it was to speak up once they had gone some distance he bit his tongue, instead offering some small hindrance to the process while being marched along the halls. Finally, his smirk broke free as Bellamy shoved him into his own quarters, Murphy giving a brief look of disbelief as he focused on the other. "Am I under arrest in here instead or is this just guard's privileges? Go wherever you want." His smirk disappeared before he got an answer, with Bellamy's previous comment along with the look he got seeming to steal it away, forcing him into sincerity. "... What we always do, Bellamy. I don't know why you're so surprised."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy chose to ignore Murphy's initial question. His smart assery not being the primary issue Bellamy wished to address. He was more focused on the answer -- whichever answer Murphy would give -- to his inquiry. What were they doing. And the answer he gave, left him quiet for a moment. What they always did. It was true, that the two of them had gone back and forth when it came to the violence . . . but now, it was mixed in with further complications. With intimacy. Bellamy couldn't bare to lose someone else that he became attached to. Not so much fearing the physical loss of them -- the death of them -- but more so, the emotional loss. The last person Bellamy had let himself be emotionally vulnerable with, betrayed him. He needed to have an idea of what this was.

Whether it was going any where for clearly, it was unfamiliar for the two of them. Perhaps it was utterly one sided. Perhaps Bellamy felt more for Murphy than he did for him. It was entirely possible, but hopefully after today, it would be clear where they stood. "This isn't what we always do," Bellamy protested. The anger at each other, yes. But not the intimacy. He knew what Murphy had meant though, but Bellamy was attempting to steer the conversation in the direction that would force both of them to speak about . . . what exactly was happening here.

"But if this is how you want it be . . . " Bellamy couldn't convince him otherwise. Could he? No. If what he saw with Bryan was true, and Murphy sincerely did not want anything deeper between them . . . Bellamy had to accept that. Despite the unfamiliar yet intense disappointment it left piercing what was left of his heart. "Then tell me." He tightly raised his head, as if suddenly gaining some semblance of a stoic demeanor. Overcompensation no doubt. "And we're done." This, everything . . . they would be done. As if it was so simple as a word. When he knew deep down of course, that it wasn't. Not even close.

[John Murphy]

"How I want it to be?" He couldn't resist a quiet huff of laughter at that, as humorless as the sound was as it escaped. "That's a first." When had he had any choice or say in what anyone else did? Especially Bellamy Blake. Didn't the king always do what he chose and to hell with everybody else? Unless his choices rolled around you in a more favorable way, you'd be screwed. The only reason Murphy had ever found benefit before was because he had aligned himself with Bellamy, never the other way around, not even meeting halfway. Now Bellamy was asking what he wanted. 

He couldn't answer right away. As much as he would have liked to snap an answer back he had to take a few seconds at least to try to say exactly what he needed to, but perhaps he wouldn't even manage that. The other's tone seemed accusing, or maybe merely the words chosen. Although it may have simply been that Murphy didn't want the decision when it was offered in such a way. As if he would be to blame for whatever they had ending and was already at fault for it crumbling to this point. He was sure it hadn't been anything resembling steady in the first place. In his view he had practically walked in on Bellamy in pursuit of another conquest, so what was the issue? Wouldn't this be exactly what Bellamy wanted, to be given freedom to do what he wanted? He already had that. When he spoke up, Murphy gave the only answer he thought Bellamy really wanted, and the only one he could bring himself to offer, inwardly cursing the lack of conviction in his voice. "Do what you want, Bellamy. I don't care."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy wasn't sure what to make of the other's response. How he wanted it to be was a first. Do what you want. I don't care. Bellamy was rendered silent, processing Murphy's words. He could understand the former delinquent's reluctance to open up. But Bellamy felt the same. Exposing his vulnerability, allowing himself to feel more for someone . . . only to have it shatter. He tried to think of what to say. Would Murphy be willing to have this conversation? Something in his tone suggested that his words betrayed his emotions. Though perhaps it was just wishful thinking on Bellamy's part. Grasping at straws. Holding on to something that didn't want to be held. "I do." He did care. The words came out in a burst of sincerity, unsure if he even regretted them.

He did care. Of course he did. Perhaps he hadn't made it known. Mount Weather had changed him. It forever would. Being with Murphy in the times they had felt so . . . comfortable. Safe. And now it was terrifying at the same time. He didn't move closer to him, but he also knew that any more dismissal, and Bellamy wouldn't be able to bare it. Caring for someone was always his weakness. Caring for someone too deeply. It had gotten his mother killed. It had pushed Octavia away. And Clarke had left.

"I can't . . . " He paused for a moment, forcing his words to remain steady. "Stop people from walking away." A reference to Clarke. He had let himself care for her and he wasn't worth staying for. Maybe he wasn't worth being with Murphy either. It made sense. Yet part of him was selfish in his unwillingness to accept it. "So if you want to walk away, I'll accept that." Metaphorically. Bellamy would technically be the one physically leaving since they were in Murphy's apartment, but he figured John knew what he meant. "But I, we can't keep doing this." We. Because it was about the both of them. Not just one.

[John Murphy]

Having averted his attention after speaking up, Murphy couldn't lift his gaze to meet Bellamy's when the other responded. He did his best to play it off as merely lack of caring, just as he'd said, but he knew his attempted casual demeanor was failing him fast. Maybe it had already been seen through as the thin facade it really was at this moment. A claim to care from the other was swiftly tugging it down even more. It was terrifying in all truth, the threat of exposure. Not the little of himself he'd given before now, emotionally, physically, but the danger of real vulnerability. Mostly, he believed he couldn't afford to, nothing was worth that much. 

Perhaps Bellamy was, for somebody else. But for Murphy, all he could see were pitfalls and the inescapable hurt that would no doubt trail them until it caught up. That was how it was for them, no amount of yearning could alter it. Yet the prospect of shutting it out completely was both a relief and a sadness. Perhaps even a dread at the finality, if that was what it would be. 

Bellamy's words complicated it further, provoking a stirring up of so many already despised emotions. Unwanted, sweeping Murphy along with them against his will. That the other could have this effect had him swaying between anger and curiosity since he'd first been aware, but now he had to choose. Between holding on or letting go, between possibilities and indignation. He let the latter get the better of him as he moved to approach Bellamy. "We're not doing anything, we're not dangling choices where there aren't any, we're not running off with every giggling distraction that comes along. That's all you, Bellamy."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy's eyes fixated on the younger male as he moved to approach him. But Bellamy remained still. He didn't know whether to feel like he was accused, caught, attacked . . . no. Confronted. Perhaps that was the best way to put it. Just as Murphy had pointed out days ago that they were so alike. He was calling him out on how it was on him. Perhaps it was. Perhaps that one oblivious action caused everything to spiral. Wasn't it inevitable? Or was it Bellamy, self destructing a relationship that he had already cared so much about; sabotaging it . . . because he knew he didn't deserve it.

The fear of this realization was strong within him, though found the words almost immediately after Murphy finished throwing them at him. "You wanna blame me? Fine. You're right. It's all on me. It's all my fault. Always is." There was a bit of sarcasm or resentment in his voice. He didn't even know. He just knew that his words held truth. "Cause it's so much easier to blame me, isn't it?" Than to confront his emotions. Now this was assuming Murphy felt anything for him at all. Bellamy often trusted his instinct, and that was what he was going on right now. It could backfire, explode in his face . . . or it could help open up the conversation even more. That image of him with the woman may have started it . . . may have caused Murphy to retaliate, but surely, it was more about themselves. Maybe that was just it. Mutual fear.

"So much easier to throw the responsibility on someone else. You know what, I can take it. I've been taking it for months." Murphy became an outlet. Bringing up the burdens of Bellamy's responsibilities but not to force him to shoulder it. To make a point. That this . . . what they had, or could have, was something so much more. At least for the older male. "But you're a damn idiot if you think what's going on right now is just about me. This is about us." He hadn't even realized that he moved closer to Murphy during this outburst. Bellamy's voice was not raised, but it was stern. Serious. Reflective of all the emotions that had been bottling up; threatening to explode for so long now. "So why don't you tell me, just what the hell you want from me?!" Somewhat rhetorical, but mostly not. Bellamy knew what was in his heart -- mostly -- but Murphy's stance on this entire thing . . . now that, still remained a mystery.

[John Murphy]

Yes, he wanted to blame him. For everything right now. For letting him get caught up in this mess of a connection between them. This self-destructive, doomed relationship, if it could even pass as that. It couldn't, it was nowhere near what it should be and yet more than enough for him to want to grasp at the pieces of it as they fell apart. To blame Bellamy for everything would mean his own desertion would be justified, his retreat just common sense. 

It wasn't so simple and the knowledge of that angered him more, threw him out deeper into uncertainty and fear. Afraid of losing something he'd found himself wanting, afraid of placing a shred of trust in the other and discovering it was a mistake, and afraid it would eventually be his fault, not Bellamy's. So why couldn't he just let go? He tried to reason it was that Bellamy was imposing with his very existence, that it made for a laborious escape, but Murphy knew he was reaching for freedom with one hand and clinging to the uncertain sanctuary that was Bellamy Blake with the other. 

He could tell the other to suck it up and handle the failings, of himself, of both of them. There was a constant temptation to do so as Bellamy went on, the other now close and making it harder to resist a reaction. Every word was pulling Murphy towards a caustic reply, a burning answer to destroy the whole thing once and for all, to harm Bellamy irreparably, but all that came out was a single furious word. "You." Instantly he regretted it, retreating several steps with that casual offhand disposition clawed back into place before he went on as if the word hadn't meant anything. "Happy now? Feeling blameless?"

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

You. It was as if that one word addressed everything that Bellamy had inquired about. Addressed everything he had felt, everything he feared, everything he . . . wanted. Because the answer seemed so simple. And yet, meant so much. Held so much. Bellamy just stared at Murphy as he placed more distance between them, finishing his words as if accusing him whether he was happy and feeling blameless. Happy. Was that emotion even possible? With Murphy, it felt like it could be. He felt like he could find something akin to it. You. That was what Murphy had said. He wanted him. To be wanted by someone felt . . . unfamiliar.

For someone to want him, to want this with him. Bellamy knew that it had been mostly his fault, denying any possibility of an actual relationship. But to be with someone who wanted him, as he wanted the other . . . was there more to say? Could this be something that promised them a future together? The emotions caused his adrenaline to course through him. Suddenly words seemed inadequate; insufficient. Unneeded. Bellamy moved forward and grabbed Murphy by his shirt, pushing him against the wall while simultaneously pressing his body against his and crushing their mouths together. A long over due, heated kiss. All his emotions poured out into it. All the tension seemed to transform into passion as he pressed his body against the younger male's, his mouth moving against his in fervent need; in a way to expression everything he felt as it poured out into the kiss.

Bellamy wasn't even sure how long it lingered until the need to breath dominated all else. It was enough to ease him out of the kiss, as he just rested his forehead against Murphy's, heavily breathing at the intensity of it. He slowly released his clutched hold on Murphy's shirt, taking a few small steps away from him. Not in any sort of shyness or to recoil but . . . he just didn't know. His tongue ran over his lips, as he paused in thought, if that was even possible at this point to have any coherence. "If you're done being an idiot. . . " He began to say, his gaze falling to Murphy. Despite the word, it wasn't quite meant as an insutl. "Then this can be something." They could be something. Together.

[John Murphy]

Desperate to take the word back or at least dilute it with more accusatory comments to dismiss it, he was against the wall before he could voice any, Bellamy pressed against and their mouths locked in the kiss. For a second he was incensed that he could be cut off so abruptly just when he wanted to roll back his brief but significant baring of emotion, to brush it off as mockery in case it should come back to bite him in some way. But the intensity of the kiss tempered the urge. The desire to stretch the distance, emotionally and physically, ebbed away and was replaced by a profound need for the other's touch. His bitter anger tamed by the kiss and merged into impassioned annoyance that it had taken so long, only now seeming to realize he had wanted it so much. And now he welcomed it, eagerly responding until they parted to catch their breath. 

The few small steps Bellamy took back seemed too far, with Murphy now craving for the weight of the other pressed against as if the sensation grounded him, kept him from spiraling into animosity despite the whirlwind of emotion the contact reaped in its place. Equally if not more unsettling, if not for the hint of odd serenity in it all. As Bellamy finally spoke up, his words appeared to swing so quickly from the threat of more insults to a statement of hope. There was that feeling again; hope. Or possibility. Though Murphy was reluctant to grasp at the first he could perhaps hold on to the latter. The possibility that it could be something. He took it with an approach to close the gap between them and a quiet breath of amusement. "Yeah... I'm never done." Even a little sarcastically self-deprecating humor just to attempt the have the last word on the matter, though he now brought himself closer still with a bump of his chest to Bellamy's. "Well, we're definitely something."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Murphy hadn't been rejecting of the kiss, and while Bellamy often trusted his instincts . . . he was still met with a wave of relief that he had embraced. That he hadn't turned him away. Quite the opposite in fact, because as Bellamy had put some distance between them . . . Murphy moved closer until they were chest to chest. Bellamy's eyes briefly fell to the former delinquent's lips, before meeting his eyes once more. He folded his lips inward, letting his tongue run over them to moisten them . . . or perhaps savor the taste that Murphy provided him with.

A taste that he needed to be quenched with. John's words finally processed in Bellamy's mind, speaking of how he was never done . . . and how they were definitely something. "Finally, something we agree on," he commented. With all their disagreements, their directed anger, their fights . . . Bellamy knew that he felt better with Murphy, than without him. He couldn't explain it. He wondered if he even needed to. Perhaps this was just something better to embrace, to feel rather than try to explain.

What was the point? There was obviously something between them and maybe if they let themselves feel it . . . well, as Bellamy said, this could be something. The older male's gaze locked intently on Murphy, tempted to close the distance between them once more. Instead, he just brought a hand to John's chest, resting it against the front of his shirt. "So that's it, we're something then?" He both asked and stated. Bellamy had never been a . . . 'something' with anyone. Not in a committed relationship anyway. This was new for him, and he had no idea how to vocalize it. He only knew that perhaps they should, as to avoid what happened days ago and earlier today.

[John Murphy]

His gaze drifted down to the other's lips as he wet them, a somewhat guilty pleasure which he'd come to enjoy seeing, albeit subtly so as not to let on, but right now he stared with unabashed appreciation. Tempted to recapture in a kiss even as Bellamy began to speak up again, but he abstained for now, refocusing on the other as he spoke. He couldn't help a faint grin, though it faded soon after. It was true, after everything they were in agreement, and as fickle as he feared it might be, in truth it felt like it might take root and flourish if they could only let it. Perhaps it was already on its way. 

As Bellamy rested a hand to his chest, Murphy expected a push away. The kiss, the direction of the conversation, it all veered out of view for a moment or two with the prospect of rejection and Murphy's feet shifted ready to back up. An imminent vicious reaction began to rise up with fragments of what harsh words he would launch at the other, all the while refusing to acknowledge what had happened, what was about to happen. How could he be so stupid? Surely he should have known it was some twisted trick. 

But he didn't move away and Bellamy hadn't pushed him. With Murphy's sudden fiery readiness to defend himself lasting mere seconds before it was doused with pure relief. He couldn't trust Bellamy, expecting the worst it seemed, but he found that he wanted to... needed to try. He cast a downward glance to the other's hand on his chest, the gesture now warm once he knew it for what it was, soon meeting Bellamy's gaze as the other man continued. "... Yeah." Still hesitant, still reluctant to define it, he tried anyway. "Each other's 'something'."

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

Each other's something. There was something sweetly sentimental about that, especially coming from Murphy. Bellamy knew that he had been seeking that confirmation. Initially it had been Murphy's response to his series of questions, and now this. It gave the older male a bit more assurance that this was something John wanted as well. That it wasn't entirely one sided. "Sounds, good." And yet Bellamy knew that the word didn't even begin to cover it; there was a weight to the word, encompassing far more than merely 'good'. This could be something great. Something wonderful. If they let it. If they allowed themselves to actually be together. The temptation to seal this with a kiss or more was overwhelming.

Yet somehow, Bellamy managed to keep his eyes on Murphy's face, his body still as his hand slowly lowered from having rested on his chest. Bellamy had never been someone's something. He knew that was his own fault, unable to be in any sort of relationship due to the responsibility of protecting others. On the Ark, it had been Octavia. Down here, it had been the delinquents. Someone's something. The words sent a wave of warmth through him. A want, to be someone's something. To be someone's anything . . . when he often felt like he was nothing. Murphy had changed that in him though.

He felt alive, whole even when he was with him. It was not a feeling he was selfless enough to give up. Bellamy leaned forward, his lips resting on Murphy's cheek, engaging in an almost tender action, rather than a heated kiss. He didn't know why, but he just felt the need to somehow express what this, what he meant to him even just by his confirmation that they . . . were each other's something. The embrace lingered before he drew back, giving Murphy a bit of a nod, and a slight, faint smile, almost afraid to say something . . . as if his words could sully the moment.

[John Murphy]

Sounds good. It did and maybe it would be, now they had both claimed some sort of recognition of whatever it was they had between them. Even if plainly and in their own way, it had been sincere from Murphy's side and he believed Bellamy had been too. The kiss to the cheek had him stilling where he stood, the touch so tender and unusual he offered no response, simply appreciating the shared moment. Such a small gesture held so much significance, a rare show of real affection rather than only feverish yearning. As much as the intensity of those times were enjoyed, the sentiment of the kiss to his cheek felt like something to cherish. 

Now as Bellamy straightened up, Murphy studied him. A small part of him searching the other's features for a sign of worry or regret, instinctively ready to guard himself should it appear. But for the most part, he was looking only to admire, to savor the warmth he was feeling for Bellamy, blooming deep in his chest now that he allowed it to escape just a little. Just a little. Just for now.  

He let the silence linger on, the two staring at each other as their vague but somehow certain claim on one another continued to sink it. As if it needed to settle before either of them spoke. Finally, Murphy averted his gaze with a smile only to refocus on Bellamy once more, swaying to give a bump of his shoulder to the other man's and letting his attention drift again as he wandered a few steps away.

Tag: Bellamy Blake

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: John Murphy

i'm  writing

MY OWN DAMN STORY

The silence didn't feel uncomfortable or tense. No. It felt . . . natural, considering the circumstances. Comfortable, considering the revelations they had made to one another. Though not spoken about in depth, enough had been said. Neither were the type to overly discuss their feelings and such, so even this . . . something, that they had going was undoubtedly a big step not just for Bellamy, but certainly for Murphy too. It left the older male appreciative of the opportunity. Of the chance to have this something with him. He just continued to watch Murphy, almost feeling as if time had stopped.

He was the first to move, gently nudging Bellamy's shoulder, an action that had prevoiusly elicited a more . . . agrressive response from the older male. But this time, it felt more playful rather than tense. It felt like a amicable gesture, as oppose to one meant to provoke and instigate a fight. Bellamy offered a small, faint smile as Murphy wandered a bit . . . wondering if this was his way of indicating he'd rather be left alone.

The entire situation was just so, unfamiliar. Even having a conversation with someone about being -- and wanting to be -- in a relationship was unfamiliar to him. Yet it had to be had. And now that it was decided, what was next. "Guess I'll leave you to it then?" But Bellamy didn't move, nor did he find himself wanting to leave Murphy. But it was almost as if he was waiting for some sign, or indication from the younger male. He had after all been shock lashed and imprisoned recently.