Bloody and Bruised.

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Based of - 2x06
Words - 1595
Warnings - blood, mentions of death.

While you had been watching Murphy loose him temper, Raven had noticed a problem within the walkies

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While you had been watching Murphy loose him temper, Raven had noticed a problem within the walkies. Something along the lines  of Mount Weather jamming the Ark, making it impossible to find any of the other stations that had landed. She and others had gone out to try and take out their satellite. 

Though, you made the decision to stay put at camp. You wouldn't be much help. And anyway, you weren't looking to live through more Clarke and Finn tension. So, you helped out around at Camp Jaha, packing rations, sorting parts, doing whatever you could to store your time - while also helping out the camp.

Murphy, however, was doing no such thing as helping. He used his free time to wonder around the hallways of the Ark. He had no plans to help out. He didn't want to. He didn't think they deserved his help after the things they had done to him. But, he did have to admit that wondering aimlessly around empty halls had made him grow bored. Everyone else was either busy or out. He had no one to fall prey to his smart-arse comments and smirky infamous smile. 

That had been until his feet dragged him into B-hall. It used to be for parties and gatherings up in the Ark. Now it was being used to store certain materials. And, at the centre of it all, stood you. Kane had given you the job of ordering which plants would be useful to the camp and which would not. Many people had followed your orders, despite having been known to them as a teenage criminal. Kane was aware of how you knew plants like the back of your hands. You knew which ones were safe and which were deadly.

Murphy didn't quite understand why you were still in Camp. He assumed you had gone with the others to take down Mount Weather. That had been until his eyes stumbled onto you. Your face were forced in boxes that had piling up in the rooms. Some being ready to be thrown out and others ready to be taken to the dinning halls.

Pushing himself further into the room, Murphy made his way for you. A smirk reappearing on his face as you had yet to notice him. "I see you're keeping busy." You didn't have to look up to identify who the voice belonged to. And, as much as you wanted to take a break, you were trying to make yourself look more respectful towards those who viewed you as nothing but a delinquent.

Lifting your head, you met Murphy's sickly smirk. "I am, and I'd much rather not be interrupted." You tell the boy before carrying a box over to the further side of the room. Murphy had followed you. He was trailing behind you like a lost puppy would have done.

"So you wouldn't like my company?" He questions before you lead him back to the table you had originally stood out. "You know I still didn't get a thank you yesterday." He speaks when you don't answer his first question.

Sighing, you realise Murphy wasn't just going to go away. He was too stubborn for that. "I never asked you to." You remind him. Your eyes wonder across the boys face and the purple bruising that had started litter it. You hated to see him like this. It was almost like a normal look for Murphy. He was known to be seen in blood and cuts. But that hadn't made it any easier for the small part of you that urged to brush them away. "You should clean your face, you don't want them cuts to get infected."

After saying so, you went to leave the room. That had been until Murphy's hand went around your forearm. You huff but still let him turn you around. "What, Murphy?" You question him a slight annoyance lingering in your tone. 

The defeated that was held in your voice told Murphy this wasn't the time to piss you off. So he let his grip fall from your arm. "Nothing, sorry." He mumbled out. He wanted to leave. He felt like he had embarrassed himself. It hadn't be too far fetched as he considered the way your expression had fallen just by the sight of him.

This time he went to leave. And this time, you were the one to stop him. Your body made a sigh and you knew you couldn't just let him go. "Come on then," You start to make the boy turn back to you.

His brows were knitted as his smirk came back to life. You hadn't pushed him away. "You know if this is your way of inviting me back into your room, you could've just asked-" He smirked as he awaited your reaction. To which, a straight line only crossed your lips. No matter what you said, Murphy would always come up with some shitty comment to feed into his smart-arse of a façade.

"No, dickhead, I'm going to clean you face. Now, come on before I change my mind." This time he followed you out from the hall.

You led Murphy down the hallway and into the room that the council had allocated you to. It was only small but it was better than the tents you were forced to sleep in when you first came to the ground. It simply contain of a bed and some storage space. It was something almost everybody was given when the Camp had been formed.

You tilt your head over to the bed, gesturing Murphy to take seat. He does so while your feet take you over to your even smaller bathroom to grab a cloth and some water. Afterwards, you fell in front of Murphy. Not one of you spoke. You only dabbed the cloth into the bowl of water and began to gently brush it over his cuts.

With your eyes set on his wounds, Murphy let his linger over yours. He didn't know what to say. For once, his mind hadn't filled with snarky comments or little jokes that would help pass the time. In honesty, Murphy didn't want to pass the time. It was rare that he got to spend time with you one to one. And when he did, he would use it wisely. He just wasn't sure how he was suppose to speak with you.

So, swallowing, he spoke up. "Thanks." It was only low but with the small distance set between you and him, your ears had picked up on it.

Your lips tugged slightly, unsure of Murphy in that moment. He had never been so quiet with you. Actually, he had never been so quiet with anybody. He always had something to say, an opinion he was ready to voice. But, right now, he wasn't so sure of himself. "It's called being a decent human being. Maybe you'll learn it someday." You joke as you push to turn the conversation back to the light tone it usually held.

Murphy forced out a smile. "Maybe." He pushed out. If the boy was honest, he didn't know why you were helping him. He never thought his wounds really needed tending to. Maybe they didn't. Maybe you were just being kind. And, maybe, you actually wanted to spend time with him. "How come you didn't go with Raven?" The boy then questions.

You simply shrug. "Satellites and signals are Raven's thing. I'd not be able to help all that much." You explain as you continued to wipe away the blood that had formed on the boys face.

"What's your thing then? Patching up people who don't deserve it?" His tone was light but he still thought his words her true. Murphy didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve your kindness. He had done nothing but hurt you in the past. He was a bad person, it was what he was known as: ' the bad guy'. Never in his life had he expected someone like you come along and help him. But you had.

You pulled the cloth from his face after his words fell. "Murphy, what do you mean? Of course you deserve it-"

He was quick to cut you short. "No I don't." He speaks. You didn't objected. You didn't say anything, letting the boy continue. "No matter what, everyone will still hate me. Everyone will still see me as the person who killed 2 of our own people. The selfish asshole who did nothing for anyone." His voice came out harsh and sharp. He believed everything he was saying. No one looked at him any different. No one saw the reasons why he did such things.

When Murphy directed his eyes way from you, your hand fell under his chin. He was reluctant but still let your fingers lift his head back up to yours. "I don't hate you, Murphy." You told him in hopes to bring his spirits up.

Murphy's mind just flashed back to where they had placed you: reviving comments from other delinquents about how you were better than him. He hated himself for putting you in that position. "Maybe you should." You were surprised by his words enough to let your hand fall from his touch. You didn't understand where this had come from. Where abouts this sudden self hatred had emerged.

Murphy said no more before getting up from your bed. You knew you should've stopped him, said something before he left. But you didn't. You just watched as he left your sights. You didn't even know what you would've said. It was obvious there was a lot going on in that boy's head and you didn't know how to bend it. 

𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔 // 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑴𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒉𝒚.Where stories live. Discover now