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[jettisons]

@bellamy.blake | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[reproached]

You seemed like you needed the space.

[ Murphy's gaze skims Bellamy again, considering his body language. ]

I mean, you still do. But I didn't want you to think I disappeared.

[jettisons]

I'm fine.

[Probably. He lets out a breath, hands falling back to the bed.]

You don't have to give me space.

[reproached]

Good, because I don't think I can stand up right now.

[ Maybe if he really, really tried. Anyway, he drops his head to his pillow with a sigh. ]

I went and got all of my mistakes outta the way. So you don't have to feel like it's your fault. That's it, right? Trying not to mess up my life? Weight off your shoulders.

[jettisons]

[And now he's even more thrown. Bellamy turns his head to look at Murphy, brow furrowed.]

What are you talking about? What mistakes?

[reproached]

It's a fertility festival. You know that, don't you? I got in the spirit. They each gave me necklace...

[ He picks his head up just to glance back to wherever he threw those flowers, but it's too dark, and he gives up instantly. ]

Don't remember how many. Good times.

[jettisons]

[That's...

Okay. There's a long pause as Bellamy processes that, and then his eyebrows go up.]

Are you trying to make me jealous?

[If Murphy is, it's not quite working. All it does is further convince Bellamy that Murphy is desperate for some kind of distraction.]

[reproached]

You asked what I was talking about. I told you. Not a big fan of the judgment I'm hearing. I remember your little campsite threesomes, back before you turned perfect, so screw you.

[ Coming back was a bad idea, Murphy is beginning to realize. ]

[jettisons]

[Wow, he wasn't expecting that much aggression.]

I'm not judging you.

[Judging based on that would be particularly hypocritical, but now he's even more baffled.]

What's your deal, Murphy? What do you want me to say? Congratulations?

[reproached]

I don't want you to say anything. I'm done talking.

[ Punctuated as he rolls over, turning his back to Bellamy. Coming back was a very bad idea.. ]

[jettisons]

[Bellamy fights the urge to reach out and touch Murphy's shoulder, knowing the empathy bond would go terribly right now.]

Murphy.

[reproached]

[ For fuck's sake... ]

What?

[jettisons]

[Bellamy tries—and fails—to tamp down a rush of frustration.]

What the hell are you so pissed about? I'm not judging you. You're not a "weight on my shoulders".

[reproached]

Glad to hear it. Good talk.

[ Excuse him while he buries his face in this pillow and wills the earth to swallow him. ]

[jettisons]

[God damn it. Bellamy closes his eyes for a moment, tries to recenter himself. Then, hesitantly, he reaches out to brush his fingers against Murphy's shoulder, the barest touch of bare skin on bare skin. All that gets through is a brief rush of concern, confusion, lingering frustration.]

That talk sucked.

[reproached]

[ Murphy had been... kind of hoping he'd do that. The way he reaches immediately to slap his hand over Bellamy's and trap it there suggests that he was waiting for it.

And then there's the emotional rush. He spent most of the day bouncing between guilt and humiliation, and (unsurprisingly) fucking it out with a bunch of strangers didn't cure the problem. He messed up with Bellamy. He doesn't know where exactly it went wrong, but it did, and now there's really no way to express what he was trying to get at because it's all cheap and desperate.

He's not mad at Bellamy. He's mad at himself. ]

[jettisons]

[Thank God he's doing something right, and he wasn't totally off base with what he assumed Murphy was feeling. His frustration drains away, replaced mostly with concern and that familiar warm affection. There's a second where Bellamy just stays where he is, still and quiet, and then he pulls his hand from Murphy's in favor of wrapping an arm around him instead.]

We're okay, Murphy.

[reproached]

I'm not.

[ No surprise to the viewer. If Bellamy could remember the Ring, maybe he'd have a better idea of the cause. All this standing still, the future simultaneously vague and hopeless. Static, like he's already dead.

Murphy leans back into the embrace. This is the only damn thing he has: Bellamy, arms waiting to catch him, reassurances in his ear. And he is fucking it up, the way he always does. ]

I wanted to be with you today. Yesterday. Whatever.

[jettisons]

[He doesn't get it just yet, and maybe that's the difficulty here—learning Murphy in a place where they're only sometimes fighting for their lives instead of constantly. For all that Murphy had said it was fine, that he didn't mind, Bellamy knew some kind of misunderstanding like this would happen eventually. How could it not?

But at least Murphy isn't shutting him out now. He tightens his grip unconsciously.]

I'm here now.

[reproached]

[ Murphy turns, casting a look over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches in wry amusement. ]

That's not what I meant.

[ Not to be ungrateful or anything. He loves this, too. One small embrace and he's comforted more than half a dozen strangers managed over the course of the festival. But that's the trouble. Every little bit Bellamy gives him just makes him want more. ]

[jettisons]

[Bellamy's own smile is more self-deprecating. God, he's such an idiot. He leans forward, pressing his lips against Murphy's shoulder.]

I didn't know you felt this way.

[Until just today, anyway, which is part of it. But, more vitally—]

I don't want you to do anything and regret it.

[reproached]

I'll regret it if I don't.

[ If Murphy learned nothing else from an evening full of debauchery, he at least found clarity. Every encounter threw the truth into sharp focus, that he wanted so badly to be with Bellamy instead, and Bellamy wasn't there.

The brush of those lips against his skin sends a ripple of warmth over him. More of that, that's what he wants. ]

I've wanted it forever. From the beginning. I followed you around like an idiot, hoping... I don't know.

[ Then everything happened, of course. Attempted murder really soured the relationship. And then there was Emori. ]

[jettisons]

[He can only imagine how Murphy will react to it, but he can't stop the sudden rush of guilt that realization brings. He's always felt awful for that hanging incident, but that adds a whole new facet to it.

And again, of course, there's that question that keeps popping up in his head: What about Emori? He doesn't say it, though. Doesn't want to send Murphy into another tailspin. He swallows roughly instead, stays utterly still for a moment.]

I'm the idiot. I'm sorry.

[reproached]

[ The guilt is totally unexpected. Murphy freezes, unsure what to do with it or with the apology that follows it. In so many ways, that betrayal shaped the person he became, cursed him with the fear and paranoia that saturates his mindset to this very day. This very morning.

But it was also a lifetime ago. He can't fucking remember what it felt like to hate Bellamy. ]

Don't.

[ He rolls over so that he can look Bellamy in the eye, hooking an arm around him to return the embrace. There's nothing here but love. ]

You thought you were putting down a rabid dog. And I forgave you for it a hundred years ago.

[jettisons]

[That isn't entirely true. Back then, every decision he made was a desperate attempt to save his own ass or protect Octavia. It was a way to try to get the situation back under control.

But maybe it doesn't matter. The empathy bond is a saving grace here—he might not let himself fully believe what Murphy's saying if it weren't for his emotions making the truth of it so clear. His guilt doesn't disappear, but it fades, overcome by gratitude and fondness. His lips twitch up into the barest smile.]

A hundred years is a long time to get over something.

[reproached]

[ Murphy flashes a smile of his own. ]

Yeah, no kidding.

[ Now here they are, a whole universe away from it all. He runs his hand down the curve of Bellamy's spine, like he means to smooth away the lingering traces of guilt. ]

But not enough to get over everything.

[ Evidently. ]

Do I get to kiss you yet?