Bellamy huffed at Murphy’s words, he was too tired for this. He was tired of this all, he was tired of being scared, thinking what would happen if he just fucking ran away. But he knew what happened, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want that mess when the Grounders would come after him and most likely make his people pay too. He didn’t want them to hurt his people, not anymore. They had killed enough people, both the Grounders and Sky People had. It was time to stop it all.
More importantly, he was already tired of this conversation, glaring… whatever this even was. He couldn’t take these kind of situations anymore, he couldn’t keep telling them that they needed to save themselves, that he was giving them an opportunity and don’t you fucking dare to throw it away. Even Murhpy was going to stay. Bellamy stiffened at that idea, the boy in front of him would be dead as soon as he was gone. Was he really that stupid? Bellamy sighed, he wanted to shake him, tell him he had to at least try, but it wasn’t his choice, it was Murphy’s. He couldn’t tell him what to do and he was tired of trying.
He couldn’t help a small, dry chuckle at Murphy’s question. He hadn’t even touched that, left it underneath all his other things, forgotten it after that. Bellamy sighed and dropped onto the mattress again. “I think I’ve needed it for a long while,” he admitted but didn’t even reach for the pile where his things were, only glared at it with dark eyes. “But it changes nothing anyway so why to bother? Just take it back if you want.”
Despite a dozen death scares, there had always been a sense of intransience to the King, and now the Grounders were going to take that away. Typical. Murphy felt sick to the core. “You’re really shit at this whole enjoying your last days thing, you know?”
Much to Murphy’s surprise, Bellamy didn’t rise for the bait. In fact, there was something unsettling and melancholy about his face; exhaustion bled from his skin, and Murphy could see an ounce of fear within his eyes. The soldier was tired of fighting. Part of Murphy wanted to take advantage of this; longed to hit that vulnerable place inside Bellamy’s head, the place Murphy had been clawing at since he was strung up for nothing. But now, everything was fucked up, and guilt weighed him down: must he insist on making the poor bastard’s short life even more miserable?
In lieu of further bickering, Murphy’s sharp features softened, and he sighed, unmoved by Bellamy’s manifold glare. “I don’t want to take it back.” There was something soft and teasing just below the surface of his words. “Your decision’s ridiculous, but it’s your decision. Let’s drink to it.” He paused and offered a half-hopeful grin, because yeah, maybe he genuinely wanted Bellamy to say yes. “I’ll even tell you all about the time I pissed on Connor.”
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