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The distant sounds of the other delinquents partying had died off long ago, and Finn was still staring at the silhouettes of the tree branches shifting across the ceiling of his tent in the moonlight. He hadn’t partaken in the festivities; it seemed wrong to celebrate the death of so many people, even if they had saved their own in the process. The lives that he had taken weighed heavily on him, and partying was the furthest thing from his mind. So all of the others had packed up and left for a clearing in the woods, where Jasper had bragged that Monty’s best still yet was waiting as Finn laid in his tent, listening to his peers celebrate their victory over Mount Weather. Now the camp was dead silent; the adults had gone to bed long ago, and with no threat from the Grounders or the Mountain Men, the guards were no longer patrolling.
Despite this supposed lack of threat, Finn still couldn’t seem to shake the nervous feeling and the baseline fear that had become normal. It was as if his nerves were a drum head stretched too tight and repaired hazardly; ready to snap at any moment. Sleep never came easily anymore. Fear and guilt battled for his thoughts in the darkness, and tonight guilt had won out.
A crash from just outside his tent shattered the stillness and startled him from his thoughts. Finn sat upright in bed, a yell just barely contained as his heart started racing. He froze for a few long moments, terror rising in his chest before he heard a stream of loud curses. A wave of relief washed over him, and it took him a few moments to collect himself before he untangled himself from his blanket and pushed aside the flap of dirty parachute that served as his tent door.
Finn fought with the laughter that kept trying to bubble up and force its way from between his lips as he watched Murphy clumsily attempting to untangle himself from the makeshift clothes line that he had somehow knocked over. It was a good minute before Finn managed to control himself well enough to speak without cracking up.
“Need some help?” he asked, thankful that it was dark enough and Murphy was drunk enough that he probably didn’t notice his smirk.
“I’m good,” Murphy told him as he clamored to his feet and found them to be entangled in the line still. He kicked it off of himself and almost fell into the tent beside Finn’s. His voice rose in volume, as if he were addressing a crowd instead of just Finn. It was harsh and grating against the quietness of the camp. “I don’t see why you care. No one else seemed to when they fucking left me-”
“Murphy! Shut up,” Finn said, keeping his voice low and taking a step closer. “You’re going to wake up the camp.”
“Forgive me for not being more considerate,” Murphy said, throwing his arms out dramatically and stumbling back several steps. “Fucking float me.”
Finn was still mildly amused by the situation at hand, but Murphy was drunk and looking for a fight, and there was a camp full of delinquents who would be more than happy to oblige him.
“I get that you’re mad,” Finn told him. “I’d be pissed too. Where’s your tent? I’ll walk you back.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Murphy sneered. Finn was beginning to understand why everyone left him; he must not be very fun at parties.
“I’m not saying you do.”
Murphy looked him over for a moment, as if he were trying to figure out Finn’s true intentions. He swayed slightly, eyeing Finn with undisguised suspicion until he finally he took a few steps past Finn’s tent. “It’s this way.”
Finn nodded and followed Murphy, grabbing his arm to steady him when he stumbled over a rut in the path.
“This one,” Murphy said, pointing out a particularly worn and ragged tent as they approached the outskirts of the camp. “Home sweet home.”
Finn stepped ahead of Murphy and held open the tent flap as Murphy clamored into the small tent.
“I’m going to grab you some water,” Finn told him as Murphy let himself drop onto the ratty blanket and rolled up jacket that served as a bed.
“Didn’t know you were so motherly,” Murphy said with a small laugh. “Thanks, mom.”
“You should drink something,” Finn told him, ignoring his comment as he allowed the tent flap to shut behind him before walking back towards camp. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering to take care of Murphy; the guy was clearly more than capable of taking care of himself. The number of times Finn had been certain that they would never see him again, only to have him come crawling back with more injuries and less trust in the group. Murphy was a survivor.
Finn tried to be as quiet as he could walking through the camp to the makeshift water pump. Despite Murphy’s earlier yelling, everyone else seemed to be asleep. He grabbed one of the tin cups off the board that served as a drying rack and filled it with water before bringing it back to Murphy’s tent.
“You’re back,” Murphy commented, sounding surprised as Finn stepped through the door flap. There was none of the usual bite or sarcasm to his words, and it occurred to Finn that Murphy probably didn’t expect him to return. Why would he? The rest of the camp had only ever shown him hatred, maybe tolerance if they were feeling generous.
“What happened out there?” Finn asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he handed the cup of water to Murphy. He sat down next to the bed.
“They fucking up and left,” Murphy told him, taking the cup and focusing his gaze on it. His words were angry, but there was a sense of redundancy in them, as if he should have expected this. “I went to take a piss, and they were all gone when I came back.”
“That’s really shitty,” Finn said. He didn’t know why he was surprised by his friends’ cruelty; none of them had ever liked Murphy and had no issues showing it. Still, thinking about them leaving him alone in the woods made his chest feel tight. Even if they had a good reason to flee so quickly, it somehow made it worse that they left Murphy behind.
Murphy laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”
“No, really,” Finn said. “They shouldn’t treat you like that.”
“I don’t know why this is a news flash for you,” Murphy said, struggling to sit up. “But I’m the bad guy.”
“Well you’ve done some pretty crappy things-” Finn said.
“Thanks,” Murphy told him before Finn could finish his sentence. “You really suck at this.”
“What I was going to say, is you’ve done some pretty crappy things. But that doesn’t define you. You’re not a bad person,” Finn told him. “People should treat you better.”
Murphy looked up at him, and for a moment Finn thought he was going to start yelling at him, to push him away and put up another wall. Instead, he lunged forward and pressed their lips together, his movements rough and passionate. He tasted heavily of moonshine, and Finn pulled away abruptly.
“You’re drunk,” he told him, breathing a little heavily from the kiss and rubbing at his face. “You’re really drunk right now.”
Murphy nodded, curling up under his fur blanket and turning his back to Finn.
“Well thanks for bringing me back, I guess,” Murphy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No problem,” Finn said, heading for the tent flap. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked back at Murphy before stepping through. “Goodnight.”
______________________________________
The next morning, Murphy woke up with a splitting headache and a deep sense of regret. He regretted every cup of moonshine after his third, he regretted throwing the water Finn left for him across his tent rather than drinking it, and he mostly regretted kissing him. There was one person on this planet who treated him with basic decency and he had just, quite literally, kissed that goodbye.
The rest of the delinquents were in similar shape; everyone talked barely above a whisper, and there was a great deal of grumbling and groaning over breakfast. Only Octavia was unbearably chipper, her good mood and cheerfulness annoying the others to no end. Murphy was filling his canteen with fresh water at the makeshift pump they had built when Finn approached. He tried to hurry up and finish, but it was impossible to avoid him in the cramped tent that sheltered the water supply.
“Murphy, about last night,” Finn started.
“It was stupid, I was drunk,” Murphy offered, swallowing his pride. It was bitter and seemed to lodge itself in the back of his throat. “I get it.” He was hurt and usually he would lash out, but somehow he didn’t have the heart to spit venom at Finn. Despite having seen his dark side first hand, Finn was a good guy and was kinder to Murphy than anyone else in the camp. “Let’s just forget about it.”
Finn nodded, and ran a hand through his hair. It had gotten almost as long as it was when they first landed.
“I don’t think I can,” Finn said, and Murphy braced himself for the final blow. He had ruined everything, once again, and as per usual he had fucked up the one good thing he had going. Finn was going to tell him that he wanted nothing to do with him, that he was just being nice and that Murphy was in fact as disposable to him as he was to everyone else. He was not expecting to feel Finn’s lips on his own, soft and warm. The kiss was rather chaste compared to the sloppy one from the night before, but it silenced all of the doubts that had previously been circling his mind like vultures.
“You were there,” Finn told him. “You saw what I did and you still stood by me, even though I didn’t deserve it. You could have cut free and ran, but you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t going to leave you,” Murphy said. “You cut me down when they hung me, you gave me the knife that saved my ass when I was banished.”
Finn shook his head. “That was different.”
“The way I see it, we’ve both got blood on our hands,” Murphy said. “We’ve both done fucked up stuff. Why keep score?”
“Because I killed eighteen innocent people, Murphy,” Finn told him. His voice shook in a way that made Murphy’s chest hurt. “And I can’t take that back. There’s nothing I can do to fix that.”
“Maybe not,” Murphy said. He licked his lips, trying the words in his mind before speaking them aloud. “But you’re probably going to keep trying, because you’re actually a decent guy.”
Finn looked down, and for a horrifying moment Murphy thought he had said the wrong thing or crossed an unspoken boundary.
“I want to believe you,” Finn said quietly. He met Murphy’s eyes and the two of them fell quiet for a few moments. The gravity of the redemption they were asking for made the air feel heavy, and Murphy wanted more than anything to make Finn smile again.
“So, spacewalker, when do I get one of your infamous scrap sculptures?” Murphy asked with a smirk, breaking the silence.
“All in good time,” Finn laughed. Murphy felt the biggest grin creep across his face, knowing that he had caused it. For the first time since hitting the ground, Murphy felt a little bit of hope. Maybe things would work out okay after all.