Chapter Text
Bellamy felt somewhat stupid; maybe even a little pathetic. Sitting on an old, unstable, silver chair next to a bunch of wood, spaceship remains and boxes, all stacked up under a small amount of blankets, simulating a bed; the bed where Murphy currently laid, unconscious, with the ghost of his devilish grin still roaming around his face.
Bellamy felt not only stupid, but also extremely, uncontrollably, sadly pathetic. He had all those feelings for the boy next to him, all the time. Feelings that went from frustration, anger, and irritation, to warmth and fondness, and in the good days he could almost admit to himself that he felt some sort of serenity when they spent time together. He had all those feelings, and he knew Murphy didn’t share most of them. Sometimes he was so cold and hostile, and some other times, just when Bellamy thought he had gotten through him, Murphy threw some bomb of distrustfulness toward Bellamy, which would make him feel like he was failing as the person he wanted to be for him, and for his friends and his people as well, certainly.
Murphy had showed him several times that his feelings for Bellamy weren’t as developed and as deep as his were, and Bellamy knew it. He was well aware of his tragic situation, yet he was still sitting next to him, carefully observing his breathing, studying the features of his face as if he were to forget them somehow, refusing to leave and hoping with all his strength that Murphy would be fine, even when he most likely would. He felt pathetic.
Bellamy hadn’t been surprised when he heard Murphy had left Arkadia in the middle of the night to find some trouble, or, to let trouble find him, as usual. He wasn’t surprised when he came back the next evening and walked through the gates, behind Kane and the rest of the outside guards as a little kid who had just been busted. And when Abby asked Jackson to check his wounds, and he rested his body on top of one of those much improvised beds after a long fight with relatively innocent grounders, he closed his eyes and fell asleep for hours. A big amount of hours. Bellamy wasn’t surprised with that either, he was just… disappointed.
He began to feel a little mad when he began to realize that he wanted to be the person Murphy would trust. He wanted to be someone Murphy could find peace in, someone he would rather stay up all night with, talking about irrelevant things, than to walk around wanting trouble to find him. But he wasn’t that person. Not to Murphy.
One more quick glance at Murphy’s calm expression and he stood up, done with his thoughts, done with his self-torture. He walked away from Murphy and continued to walk, observing the other patients, but stopping for no one.
As soon as he reached the end of their, again, much improvised infirmary, he debated between going back to sitting next to Murphy and let everyone know how pathetic he was, or get out and get some air.
He was grateful when Jackson approached him and kept him from making such decision.
“Hey, Bellamy” Jackson greeted with a smile.
“Hi” Bellamy kind of smiled back.
“Do you think you could do something for me?” Jackson asked, and continued before Bellamy could even reply. “John has been out for almost half a day now-”
Bellamy couldn’t believe he had been sitting down and observing Murphy for twelve hours. He surely felt annoyed with himself.
“-and he’ll probably wake up soon, could you bring him some clean clothes for him so he can change when he wakes up?” He threw another smile at Bellamy.
“Sure” He responded.
“Great, thank you”
Jackson left, and Bellamy mentally slapped himself for not even hesitating about doing something for Murphy. Then he heavily sighed and left the infirmary. He knew his brain would never even try to be mean to Murphy, not after everything they had been through together.
On his way to Murphy’s quarter, he continued his torturing monologue. He had just decided he wasn’t going to think about him anymore, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t understand how, after everything, the boy was still so… nonchalant. War made people work together, fight for a common cause, a mutual benefit, it made people bond somehow, and he was sure he had bonded with Murphy. After getting back to being friends, they would spend an awful lot of time together; not that they had romantic dinners looking at the stars or that they had found themselves in compromising positions, not at all, but it still felt like they had become something more. Something else than friends.
Murphy kept his clothes in a backpack, he didn’t have as many to keep them in boxes or drawers. Not like anyone else had a whole wardrobe to choose outfits from, but he still had fewer than most people in the camp, so choosing from three very similar shirts and two equally outworn trousers wasn’t hard.
Bellamy knew he would probably have to also bring him clean underwear and socks, but to be honest, he didn’t know if he owned any. He had to admit, that in their situation, in a post-apocalyptic and currently disputable planet, ordinary things he would’ve done in the Ark, like wearing a fresh pair of underwear every day, could be forgotten or set aside more that often.
However, he still searched around the room, trying to find some more clean clothing. Murphy’s room was probably just as boring, sad and preoccupying as his and everyone else’s in Arkadia; no real, personal stuff, just clothes, blankets, boxes, weapons… Eventually, Bellamy peeked at one of the boxes in the corner of the room and stopped when he saw it wasn’t empty.
Setting the clothes aside, Bellamy held the notebook with both hands, allowing the curiosity to eat every part of him that was against invading personal property. Slowly, he started going through it.
Some of the first pages were blank, and some had careless scribbles in the center. He continued going through the rest of the notebook, and he stopped passing the pages when he finally met with some unpolished handwriting, which possibly belonged to Murphy. Some of the words were crossed out, and some were written on top of others, making them almost unrecognizable. When the curiosity got the best of him, he started reading the first phrases.
My name is john murphy.
There were more crossed out words after that.
Maybe just murphy. The crazy lady in the ark once said something about writing down my emotions and some shit like that. I don’t know why I’m doing it.
Before Bellamy could read anymore, he quickly went through the rest of the pages, only to find that there were more, so many more things written in them. He closed the notebook and stared at the torn cover for a second. He shouldn’t be reading that. As soon as he read the word emotion, he knew it must’ve been extremely personal to Murphy. Who was he to invade his privacy that way?
Instead, he got to his feet, with the notebook still in his hand, and grabbed Murphy’s clothes with the other. He headed out of the room and into the infirmary.
As soon as he reached the side table of Murphy’s bed, he left the clothes on it, and placed the notebook on top of the clothes. He eyed the chair he had been sitting on for the last twelve hours, and right after thinking about sitting down, the rage of his previous thoughts began to regain their place, so Bellamy left again, before he could let himself start another sad monologue inside his head.
He knew he had to get some change of perspective if he wanted to stop himself from thinking about Murphy, so he decided to wander off and find some duty he could get his hands on.
Eventually, he found Kane, and asked if there was anything he could do to prepare for the expedition they’d be launching the next day, but he assured he had everything under control.
“I’m sure Jackson and Abby could use some help in the hospital wing, why don’t you go and take a look?” Kane had suggested with a big smile plastered on his face, and Bellamy had to fake one in return. That had been real helpful.
Bellamy turned around, slightly rolling his eyes and breathing deeply, harshly releasing a big, not-sonorous sigh, and began to walk.
He hadn’t gotten far enough to reach anywhere in particular when Octavia had caught sight of him and screamed his name. He slowly reached out, but she got to him first, as she was almost running, wearing her face war-paint and carrying her usual weapons.
“What are you doing?” She asked, a little breathless, showing her concern.
“Nothing” He announced casually as he shrugged.
“Yeah, I see that” She laughed. “I mean, why aren’t you doing anything?”
Bellamy seemed taken aback by her question. “What?” He asked confused, sounding maybe a little annoyed and offended as if Octavia had just accused him of being a couch potato.
Octavia probably caught a piece of Bellamy’s thoughts. “I mean, you’re always watching the fence, or in the tower, or out harassing grounders, and now you’ve been inside that place all day” She pointed at the infirmary.
Bellamy shrugged again, losing the eye contact with his sister. All he wanted was to get away for a while, and he kept being pushed back to Murphy and his massive one-sided crush.
“That’s it? A shrug?” Octavia pointed out.
“What do you want me to say, Octavia?” He added, tilting his head to the side and making his words sound as if he was tired.
“Woah, what’s with the attitude?” She exclaimed with an annoyed expression. In return, her brother sighed and looked at the ground. “Nothing, I-”
Octavia softened her features, and gave Bellamy a look. She waited for him to continue, but when he decided he’d better keep looking at the ground in silence, she spoke. “Okay, what’s going on?”
Bellamy made a soft growling noise under his breath before lifting up his gaze to look at Octavia.
“Okay” He let out, and then waited a little longer to continue talking; still debating between give in and keep making Murphy his only topic of conversation and center of thought, and leaving Octavia thinking he was, indeed, in a bad mood and going to find his new distraction. “Sit, come on”
He placed his hand on Octavia’s back and led her to a cut log they used as a bench, near the electrified fence. They both sat down, Octavia impatiently looking at Bellamy, and the poor guy looking at his intertwined hands as he lazily bent his body forward.
“I’ve been… watching over Murphy” He admitted slowly. “After Kane found him and brought him back, I tried to talk to him, but he said we’d talk later, and then he fell asleep and he hasn’t woken up yet”
“…okay?” Octavia asked, closing one of her eyes in confusion. “Is that it?”
Bellamy looked at her. “No, I-
“Are you afraid he’s not gonna wake up? He didn’t seem that bad, he just received a few bad punches, he’ll be fi-”
“No, it’s not that” Bellamy interrupted. “Well, partially, yeah, but no, it’s not that”
“Then what is it?”
He sighed again. “I went to find some clothes for him, to his quarter, for when he wakes up, and I found this sort of… notebook, a diary, I guess, and I took it, and-”
It was time for Octavia to interrupt. “You’re reading his diary? Murphy’s diary? That’s so messed up!”
“I-”
“That boy doesn’t even talk about the kind of food he likes best”
“I know, and that’s why I was curious to begin with” He defended himself. Actually, it was more of an explanation, because he did know it wasn’t right.
“Still, Bellamy” She was annoyed. “I thought you liked him”
“I do! And that’s exactly why I was so tempted, he just never tells me anything, and sometimes he acts like he likes me back, and some other times like I’m just anybody else”
Octavia gave him another disapproving look.
“I know it’s not right, and I don’t know if I want to continue reading anymore”
“You shouldn’t” She said firmly. “Go put it back”
Bellamy thought about arguing some more, but opted for staring back at her, trying to say something, yet at the same time, say nothing else.
“Go!” She exclaimed, with a bit of desperation, pointing at the quarters’ section.
“Okay, I’ll put it back!” Bellamy returned. He stood up, with his hands over his head in surrender and heading back to the infirmary. Once there, he avoided thinking too much about the boy laying in front of him and took the notebook. He then proceeded to leave the room and headed to Murphy’s quarter.
He, however, stopped halfway and headed directly back to the infirmary, because not so deeply and not so secretly, he knew he had no intention of giving it back.
Bellamy grabbed Murphy’s journal and proceeded to sit down next to the boy once again. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little guilty by even having that in his possession. Murphy had never given him permission to read any of it. In fact, he hadn’t even told him about the existence of that journal. However, Bellamy did feel somewhat hopeful, like right there, inside that little notebook, was the hidden Murphy he was so keen to meet.
Bellamy wanted to know what could possibly go through the mind of that so confusing kid.
So he opened it, and continued reading almost immediately.
My name is john murphy. Maybe just murphy. The crazy lady in the ark once said something about writing down my emotions and some shit like that. I don’t know why I’m doing it.
I found this thing in the grounder village we visited last night with a bunch of other useless stuff and the first thing I thought when I saw it was to write in it and it is really stupid.
My last evil act of the night was to sneak into the grounders’ tents and take stuff for myself while my friends were trying to make peace.
People are so lucky to have me as their friend.
Bellamy smiled with a kind of sadness at the words, and then he looked up and watched Murphy, still fast asleep. The boy’s words were hard to read, a lot messier than he remembered his own handwriting to be, there was no phrase that lasted more than five words without having one or two unreadable doodles getting in the way, but somehow, he could still sense the sarcasm and the self-deception Murphy felt.
The next pages contained more crossed out words and tiny stories about Murphy being thankful for having a relatively safe and stable shelter. “It’s not the best place on earth, it kind of feels like I’m back in space and we’re all living in the ark all over again, but at least no one has really tried to kill me yet” And Bellamy couldn’t relate more.
Maybe Bellamy shouldn’t be reading the journal after all. It was not right. So, instead of continuing to read, he just passed the pages one more time, subconsciously admiring how Murphy’s handwriting got neater almost by the passing of the words. His need for crossing words and filling the pages with ‘I don’t know’ or ‘some shit like that’ continued to decrease, and Bellamy’s need to smile could only get bigger.
He continued not-reading the journal, and he was almost sure he wanted to close it shut, when he suddenly stopped at the sight of his name written down.
There was no guilt, no curiosity, no anger, and no sense of invading Murphy’s personal space. He just wanted to know. He wanted to know everything Murphy had to say about him.
...I hadn’t felt this tired and disgusted since I had to pump ontari’s disgusting heart expecting none of those chipped controlled grounders would kill me in the meantime.
I had forgotten how done I was and today I remembered and it sucks.
I really just wanted to lock myself in my quarter and not get out all week, that was until Bellamy came by and asked if I was alright, like he always does, and I guess I realized that if I were to hide for a whole week, I wouldn’t have been able to see him.
I guess I would miss his stupid ass.
Bellamy smiled at the memory of that day, when one encounter with the grounders had gotten too messy and it had become a little too much to handle for everyone. That day, he could’ve sworn that Murphy was just unimpressed, used to the massacre, just another day on the ground, and then he learnt that he had in fact been suffering just as much as everyone else, he was just as done as everyone else, and the only thing that could make him want to keep going was Bellamy.
The journal had a few more stories about grounder attacks and tough days in “The Ark 2.0”, and he enjoyed to read them and remember those days he thought were already lost in the back of his head. Bellamy realized Murphy didn’t write every day, as far as he was concerned, the stories and the days he wrote about were fairly away from each other, as if he only wrote about the things that would stick out the most to him.
Tonight was the first time in a very long time the remaining delinquents were all together. It’s so weird to think that we were once a hundred.
The night was noisy and very animated, not like those nights when Jaha or Kane say it’s too dangerous to stay up late.
I was really tired, and I wanted to go to bed, but everyone else was and I soon realized that if I stayed, I would most likely stay alone with Bellamy.
Being with Bellamy when we are around everyone else is nice, but being with Bellamy by myself is something I can’t explain.
Bellamy continued reading Murphy’s journal, having forgotten long ago the feeling of guilt, slowing down his reading and smiling every time his name came up. He probably re-read the same stories more than once, because he loved how it made him feel. He looked at Murphy every once in a while, in between entries of the journal, every time he read that Murphy enjoyed his company, every time he read things that Murphy had never personally said to him.
That was what the deal was about. Murphy never said anything to Bellamy. He never said too many things at all. When they shared a moment and Murphy didn’t even try to acknowledge it, Bellamy thought he was just uninterested, oblivious to the strength of the situation, but he was in reality, screaming inside, trying to cope with his own emotions and with himself. Bellamy wondered how much he thought of him, and how good he was at hiding his feelings.
“Bellamy!”
His sight parted from the journal and turned to face Jackson, who was walking straight toward them.
“Have you brought the clothes yet?”
“Yeah” Bellamy answered, pointing at the stack of clothes on the table. Jackson looked over, following the direction of his finger.
“Great”
As soon as Jackson saw the clothes, the slight smile he was wearing disappeared completely as he stared deeply at Murphy.
“Wait, he hasn’t woken up yet?”
Bellamy mimicked Jackson’s worried expression. “No” They both looked at Murphy.
“Is that bad?” Bellamy asked with so much concern in his voice Jackson had to soften his stare a bit. Bellamy carefully placed the journal on the chair he had been sitting on and followed Jackson as he got closer to Murphy’s side.
“Not necessarily” Jackson finally replied as he carefully opened Murphy’s eyes and checked them quickly.
“Then what does that mean?” Bellamy asked, definitely panicking.
“I can’t be certain, not if we don’t run some tests first”
“I thought you had already done that”
“Yeah, but something’s probably not right, we’ll have to do some more” Jackson mildly explained. “I mean, he was beat up pretty bad”
Bellamy made a face that must’ve showed too much emotion, since Jackson turned around completely to face him and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine” Bellamy smiled lightly and nodded, trying to believe it at all costs.
Bellamy came back after the extra tests were done and he pulled his chair closer to Murphy, sitting down and grabbing his journal once again. He read, stared and smiled at Murphy, read some more, worry, and then he read some more.
Jasper and Monty found some unlabeled bottles of alcohol in those secret compartments only the council has access too. If the Ark laws applied down here they’d be dead by now.
Those guys took advantage that we all hang more and got us all drunk, it felt kind of fun when I was at it, but the next morning not so much.
Anyway, when I accompanied Bellamy to his quarter, it seemed like a pretty obvious idea to kiss him. I kissed Bellamy, and it was great, but when I woke up this morning I couldn’t believe I had.
He’s been trying to bring it up all day, and I’ve just been pretending I don’t remember.
I suck. I don’t know how to deal with this.
Bellamy, feeling shocked, and also touched at what he had just witnessed, looked up at Murphy, knowing the expression in his face hadn’t changed one bit, but still admiring every single feature. He remembered that day so freshly, how he had let Murphy drink all he wanted because maybe he’d speak some truths to him that he wouldn’t on a normal day. He also remembered how trashy he felt when, even if Murphy had kissed him, he didn’t remember any of it, and he couldn’t find a way to just tell him it had happened. But then, he knew.
Eventually, all the reading became too much, and he had to stand up, pace around the room, go outside for a couple of seconds and finally giving into the sensation of needing to know more.
…now it’s everything I think about. I want to kiss him all the time, every single day, and I know he wants me to kiss him too. Why can’t I just do it…
Kane took Bellamy to a mission in a grounder village, and they were gone for days. I was dead worried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I don’t how’d I cope if something bad happened to him, but when he came back and gave me one of those smiles, I just gave him a fucking pat on the shoulder and said ‘welcome’. FUCKING WELCOME.
When I saw him walking straight to me I swear I wanted to run to the guy and kiss the hell out of him, but I only said welcome. That’s so stupid.
By now Bellamy probably thinks I’m not worth the trouble, he’s kind of stopped being as touchy as he was before, and he’s still so stupidly charming. I miss the casual touching, I was so good at pretending it didn’t mean anything and enjoying it in silence, and now I’m not so sure I can be as good at pretending I acknowledge its absence. I’ve been so mean to him, and he is stopping to feel for me.
I know I don’t think too much of myself, but why would anyone else?
Bellamy felt a tear beginning to drop, and he cleaned it quickly before it could land on the journal. Something about knowing for the first time about the other side of his tragic romantic story made him feel very uneasy. Murphy wasn’t as cold and hostile as he had accused him of being, and that made his brain pop with a lot of new emotions.
Not too long after, Jackson came back, and Bellamy got to his feet almost immediately.
“…so?” He asked. Jackson stopped walking when he was face to face with Bellamy, letting out a long sigh.
“It’s possible his injuries are a lot more serious and deeper than we had first thought” Jackson began, and Bellamy’s eyes were wide open. “For all we know, he could have some internal bleeding somewhere”
“Internal bleeding?” Bellamy repeated in disbelief. “How do you fix that? And why would that be keeping him from waking up?”
“It must be taking too much energy away from him, that’s why he’s still unconscious” Jackson motioned a ‘calm down’ with his hands for Bellamy. “And some internal bleedings stop on their own”
“What about the ones that don’t?”
“Then in those cases, they could require surgery”
“Surgery?” Bellamy repeated, a little too elated.
“Wait” Jackson suggested with those hand motions again. “We still don’t know if he’s going to need it, which he probably won’t, let’s just wait for a couple more hours, okay?”
“But, what if-” Bellamy began.
“Then we’ll deal with it, but for now, you’ll just have to wait” Jackson interrupted him. “He’s going to be alright” He reassured him, earning a big sigh and a nod from Bellamy.
Jackson smiled one more time and proceeded to check Murphy’s vitals again. While he was doing his doctor stuff, as he had already decided to leave that kind of worrying to him, he resumed his previous activity in the chair next to Murphy.
This morning Clarke asked me if I had seen Bellamy, and I jumped and exploded because I didn’t want her to think I was the person who would always know where Bellamy Blake is. All this overreacting and being extra defensive might give me away at some point. I should be more careful.
Bellamy did remember one or two times Murphy had said “I’m not Bellamy’s nanny” at someone who would ask about him. He smiled and laughted as well. They did spend a lot of time together, people were bound to think stuff, and it was okay, nobody cared. It looked like the only person who was against them together was Murphy himself.
Bellamy and I stayed up together, alone, until very late at night, and I was so tired I kinda failed at looking uninterested when he was telling me about his young life in the Ark, hell, I think I even looked like I wanted to know everything about him, and that’s because I felt like I wanted to.
When he talked about his mom and his memories of their short life when Octavia didn’t exist and they didn’t need to hide all the time, his eyes lit up so nice, and I wanted to kiss him so bad, and then he asked me about my family, and I told him, like, ME, I really did tell him about my parents and Jaha, and everything, and he listened to every word I had to say.
I don’t know what this is going to become. Bellamy makes me feel things I hadn’t felt before, and he treats me like no one has before, and last night he said something no one had ever said to me before. Bellamy said I could always count on him.
After I got to my quarter I think I lost it, and I stared at the ceiling for what was left of the night, because then I knew, and I really want to say it, I want to scream it, and I’m afraid of how it might sound out loud, I’m afraid of my own voice, I am even afraid of how it may look on paper, but I want to say it, I need to say it.
I’m just stupid in love with Bellamy Blake.
Murphy was stupid in love with Bellamy Blake. He couldn’t get the words out of his head, and he suddenly found himself in a kind of anxious situation he had never experienced before.
Bellamy had the idea that when the person people have deep feelings about says the “l” word, it should be said back, something must be done about it, but all Bellamy could do was switch stares from the journal, where he could read that phrase over and over again, and a very unconscious Murphy, and he wasn’t even sure if he was ever going to wake up. He was feeling so much, it seemed like he wasn’t feeling anything at all; so many emotions, so many thoughts, and so many things he wanted to say and do, packed up inside in an only human body, led to a man with a blank, stiff expression.
There was one thing Bellamy was sure about. He wanted to see Murphy open his eyes, because if he didn’t, he would never get to say anything about how he felt for him.
Bellamy turned the page from the last one he had read, and deeply sighed when he saw one more written entry, and not a single one after that.
I’ve been feeling pretty disgusting these days. Actually, I’ve been feeling disgusting my whole life, but specially these last few days.
These days have been all the same. We go out to check the perimeter and I pretend to be interested and that I’m actually scared about the danger outside, for everyone’s sake. Nothing happens and we go inside, I eat with Bellamy and whoever tags along, I walk with Bellamy around the camp, I sit next to Bellamy when we do those every-night bonfires, we are always the last ones to stay up, and these last few days, either he stays at my quarters for the night, I stay at his, or we fall asleep at the vigilance tower, you know, “duties”. I had always managed to look uninterested around Bellamy, but lately I just can’t even find the inspiration to be away from him, so I try my best to not make small talk, stay quiet and half-answer what he asks, and I end up looking like a dick.
It makes me feel like crap, and I know it makes him feel like crap as well, which makes me feel even more like crap.
Last night I had a wild thought, what if I just stop and give in, why don’t I just get inside his bed in the middle of the night, why don’t I just tell him, and allow myself to feel things? But I can’t, I can’t burden him with all of… this. I know I’m hurting him, but if he were ever to be with someone like me, he would get even more hurt.
This makes me want to run away, to escape this place as if my feelings could be left behind. I’m good at surviving on my own, I want to just be able to breathe air without intoxicating his.
He is laying on my bed right now, fast asleep, and I’m sitting next to him, looking at him, wanting to touch him. I wish things could be easier and I could just kiss him.
Oh, how the tables had changed.
Bellamy finished reading every last word Murphy had written in his journal. He was full of guilt for having invaded his privacy like that, but he was mostly so desperate for Murphy to open his eyes. What if he never did?
Reminding himself that Jackson had said dying wasn’t something bound to happen, calmed him down. He had to keep thinking that everything was going to be alright.
Bellamy found himself in the company of his sister, as they had previously shared some heart-to-heart, and now, Bellamy didn’t mind if she found out the rest of the story.
The two of them slowly entered Murphy’s quarter, the journal in Bellamy’s hands. Octavia settled for awkwardly wandering around Murphy’s ordinary quarter, while Bellamy headed straight to the corner of the room and knelt beside the box where he had found the notebook. He carefully placed it back, in the bottom of the fox, putting everything back the way it was before.
“Are you gonna tell him that you read his diary?” Octavia teased, with a little bit of laughing.
Bellamy laughed back. “Someday”
Both siblings stayed in silence for a while, quietly laughing to themselves, until Octavia decided to speak.
“You know what you did was wrong, right?” She began, and Bellamy looked at her. “Sure, what you found in there is freaking adorable, but that doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have even touched that thing”
Bellamy sighed, showing clear disappointment in himself. “I know” He stood up and faced Octavia. “I’m not proud of it, but if I hadn’t read it, I would’ve never known that Murphy needs help”
Octavia stared, knowing there’d be more explanation, and she kind of wanted to know what he had to say, because moments where Bellamy Blake was open about his emotions weren’t easier to find than Murphy’s.
“Okay, when I started reading it, yeah, I wanted to know if he had written anything about me, but I didn’t continue just because he needs a boyfriend; Murphy needs more than that, he needs someone he can trust, someone he can come to when he doesn’t know how to deal with himself, someone he can sit in silence with because he doesn’t want to talk about it, but that he’ll know he’s not alone; he needs a family”
Octavia felt like she could cry at how cheesy his brother sounded, but she understood every word, and she knew that he was right.
“…And I want to believe that I can be that for him” He finished, earning a gently smile from his sister.
As they both turned around and headed outside, Octavia spoke one last time. “You know, he’s… he’s good for you, he makes you care about something else than just war” And now, Bellamy felt like he could cry. He smiled to himself without saying a word and continued to walk.
They walked together, side by side, and they almost made it to the, once again, pretty much improvised diner area, if it hadn’t been for Jasper, who was running, a little sloppy-ish, directly toward them, and stopped them from going anywhere else.
“Jasper” Bellamy called, as the guy in front of him placed his hands on his knees, bending a little as he tried to catch his breath.
Jasper panted a few times, before he took a deep breath and regained his composure, straitening up and looking directly into Bellamy’s eyes.
“I was at the hospital wing” He began, still a tad breathless. “Jackson asked me to look for you”
Bellamy opened his eyes widely. “Is it Murphy?” He asked, the impatience beginning to create in his words.
“I think so” Jasper responded, still breathless.
“Okay” Bellamy let out, turning to look at Octavia, who was staring expectantly at him, then back at Jasper, whose panting had decreased almost completely, and then he stared into the distance at the infirmary, trying to imagine what would be going on inside.
“Go” Octavia pushed him, causing him to lose his balance, but regaining just in time so he wouldn’t fall.
Bellamy began to walk, and he couldn’t help but start wondering about why Jackson had called him. Why hadn’t he gone and looked for him himself? Had he asked Jasper to hurry? Because he surely did, and, what could be so important that he thought Bellamy should know about that quickly?
He must’ve subconsciously sped up his pace as he, in no time, had arrived to the entrance of the infirmary. He didn’t stop to prepare himself for whatever was about to come, and instead, he just walked directly toward the spot he knew was Murphy’s.
From a distance he saw Murphy laying on his bed, just as he had been before, and Jackson standing next to him, facing him and showing his back to Bellamy.
Wild and scary thoughts went through Bellamy’s head. Murphy couldn’t have… died. Could he?
A few feet away from the two men, Jackson moved a little to the side, allowing Murphy’s face to be seen, and, oh God.
“Murphy” Bellamy breathed almost immediately as he saw him, laying there with his dirty clothes and his dirt-stained skin, and his perfectly shaped, bright and blue, open eyes. Eyes that turned to look at Bellamy as soon as the boy heard his name being called.
There was no expression in his face, none that Bellamy wanted to see, at least. But somehow, the lack of affection he received from Murphy didn’t bother him too much, mostly because he had been getting the exact same little amount of fondness from him in the past and it felt no different, but also because Bellamy had been so worried, that he might have not woken up, that his injuries had been stronger than him, and at that moment, he was fine.
So Bellamy slowly walked toward his bed and sat down on it, leaning down so he could hug him. He lifted him up from the bed, only a little bit, so he could wrap both of his arms around the boy.
“I’m so glad you’re okay” He whispered in his ear, probably exposing more emotion than he would’ve wanted.
Bellamy wasn’t expecting Murphy to hug him back, so he wasn’t disappointed when he didn’t.
“Yeah” Murphy responded, and Bellamy hadn’t been aware of how much he had wanted and needed to hear his voice. He figured he had been holding onto Murphy for too long, so he let go. Murphy shifted from his completely horizontal position and placed his forearms on the bed, on both his sides for support of his own body.
“You’ll have to rest for the night, try not to stand up too much, and you’ll probably be back to normal in the morning, okay?” Jackson demanded.
“’kay Doc” Murphy responded with his usual rasp and sass to his voice.
“Bellamy brought you some clothes, get changed and I’ll get you something to eat” Jackson smiled and patted the feet of the ‘bed’ before leaving the room.
Murphy straightened up and grabbed the clothes Jackson had handed to him. “Thank you”
Bellamy smiled and mumbled a “You’re welcome”, and then tried to say something else, related to a certain topic, opening and closing his mouth in various failed attempts to say the right thing. It was a good thing that Murphy wasn’t looking at him.
“Bellamy” Murphy called.
He had reasonably expected to hear something deep and memorable from Murphy, because the moment called for it. Maybe he’d say ‘sorry for being a jerk to you’ or ‘you know what? I secretly love you’ or maybe even ‘Bellamy, take me in this exact bed, right here, right now’
Okay, maybe not that last one.
But Murphy had never been deep nor memorable to anybody but himself and to his secret journal, and Bellamy almost slapped himself for believing this would be the first time.
“You forgot my underwear”
“Oh” Bellamy managed to mumble after the big announcement. He then pictured himself looking for a clean pair of underwear and then finding that notebook, getting lost in it and completely forgetting about the freaking underwear.
“I’m sorry, I’ll bring them to you” He got to his feet and turned around.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll get them myself” Murphy began to get down from the bed, and before Bellamy could reach out for his arm and help him up, he was already walking out of the infirmary. “Maybe I’ll stay there, can you tell Jackson to take the food to my quarter instead?”
Bellamy tried to object.
“Sure” He agreed.
Without looking back, Murphy rushed out of the place with his clothes in his hands. If it had been any other day, that action would’ve sadden him, but now he knew, that if anyone was sad, it was Murphy. The fact that he had just read his deepest secrets and his raw, uncovered emotions didn’t change the fact that Murphy was still trying to be away from Bellamy. To the young boy, Bellamy still had no clue about his true feelings, and he was still the jerk who wasn’t capable of loving anyone but himself.
Bellamy felt guiltier than ever, in a position he didn’t want to be in, carrying a huge burden on his back, but the thought that he knew he could now help Murphy and show him all the things he had been missing out on, was bigger than any regret.