Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 69

Murphy, the little shit, continued on like nothing had been said. Which was an unfortunate and ongoing theme for the two of them.

Harder now, for Ethan, because he's starting to understand what these feelings really are. For Murphy, though, it was likely just a game.

It'd been six days already, trapped in the bunker.

They were free of sweat, sand, dirt and blood, having bathed and almost immeditely raided the draws consisting of plain coloured tee's and sweatpants - Ethan has never found a love more fond for clothes than the one he has for sweatpants.

Their old clothes, pinicles of the dropship, were put to dry in the bathroom, scrubbed clean in salty water.

They share the bed but stay on opposite sides, ration the food, and make the most of new experiences.

One of which, was pool.

"There's no way." Ethan breathes out, watching the last ball land in the hole.

Murphy yells in victory, pool stick in the air along with his fists.

"Oh, come on!" Ethan groans, spinning around. He fights a smile and says, "Best out of eight?" Jabbing a finger at the carpeted table.

Murphy snorts, "That's the third time you've changed the number. I won, fair and square." He rasps, dropping the pool stick and tipping a glass of wine to his lips.

Ethan holds a hand across the table expectantly while collecting the multi-coloured balls.

"Get your own." Murphy turns away.

"No."

There's music playing from the stereo at the base of the stairs, something Murphy had quickly claimed, hogging the song choices to himself. They've been through the playlists, many, many times.

Sighing through his nose, Murphy angles the cup towards him.

Ethan doesn't leave him a drop, tipping the whole thing back if only to watch Murphy's blank expression falter and those lips to quirk in barely concealed amusement.

"Really?" Murphy deadpans.

Seventh-day.

"Don't push me, Murphy." Ethan stands atop the pool table, pointing calmly down at the other boy. "Because I'm close to the edge."

The silence is telling.

His crooked smile breaks off into laughter.

Murphy shakes his head, the song referencing growing familiar after having been in the bunker long enough to repeat old songs.

He pokes at Ethan's leg with a pool stick. "Get down, you're getting the table dirty."

"Or what?"

Murphy cocks a brow.

He drops the pool stick and starts to ascend the table.

Ethan falters, holding his hands out in surrender, "Hold on-"

Eighth day.

"No, I swear to god. She was chatting up this guard like no tomorrow-" Ethan cackles into his fist, "-oblivious that her class was watching from the doorway, betting on who was gonna make the first move."

They're laying across the bed again, Ethan on his stomach and Murphy on his back.

The mattress feels like a cloud and Ethan has yet to get over it. It's his favourite pastime to just lay there, curled up in all sorts of positions.

Time was different here.

With no clue towards night and day, they felt scrambled. No windows, no clock, no stable sleep schedule.

"Hold on," Murphy pushes onto his elbows with a raised brow, "Was this Miss Anderson?"

"Yes!" Ethan matches his height eagerly, "Blonde, curly hair?"

"No way." Blue eyes widen in recognition, throwing his head back to laugh in disbelief. "Who kissed who?"

"Anderson. She went for it." Ethan groans in disgust, slumping back down to the bed, "They were all over each other. You should have seen her face when she realised we were peeking through the door."

Murphy listens with unvided attention. Something he didn't often give willingly. A hint of a smile graces his face when Ethan isn't looking, eyes following energetic hand gestures.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

The question comes without warning, Ethan's hands falling to curl around the pillow.

Murphy abruptly looks away.

"What?" Ethan grins, narrowing his eyes. "Tell me."

Groaning, he lays back down and drops a forearm over his face, "I shared a prison cell with Mbege."

"Oh?" Ethan barks a laugh, rolling over to hide his face. After a beat of silence, "I assume this means you. . ." he gestures vaguely at the headboard, casually hinting for an answer to his evergrowing curiosity.

Murphy tilts his head, eyes darting over Ethan's features. "Like men?" He shrugs, "I like who I like, I guess."

Staring at the wall, away from Murphy, Ethan tries in vain to stop a rising smile.

"You?"

"The kiss, or me being gay?" Ethan cocks a brow.

Murphy bursts into a small laugh, dropping his head back against the pillow.

"The same, really. But uh, I guess I haven't had much experience to find out." Ethan says, voice muffled.

Without inerruption, Murphy stares at him.

I could be that experience, a traitorous voice murmurs in the back of his mind, and now Murphy is hyper-aware of everything.

Where Ethan is at all times, the lowering of his voice when they're alone. He catches himself looking for excuses to reach over and touch. It's frustrating. He likes the way Ethan's stretched across the bed - the way they're stretched across the bed.

Murphy flicks at Ethan's reddening ear.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

Some days are good.

Good like this one.

Tenth day.

Then there were days where being left alone with ones thoughts was a nightmare in itself.

Ethan lets the water run, tucked away in the bath and trying his best to cover the sound of his sniffling. His body wouldn't stop shaking, throat clogged and eyes bloodshot.

It's been fourteen days away from home.

Maybe the tally they started on the bedroom wall was a bad idea.

Many things can happen in a day, and Ethan's bursting at the seams with dread because he doesn't know whats come to pass.

Were his friends dead or alive? Did they make it back? Was camp still safe? What about the alliance?

He doesn't know if he's ever going to find out.