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“Bellamy, you have about a half an hour, give or take, until your next meeting. Don’t take too long. Are you sure you want to be alone?” Clarke said, picking up her pace to match Bellamy’s, never looking up from her phone.
“I’m positive, and I won’t be long.” He sighed out, and stopped once he reached the small café he used to always go to, the one he used to perform at before he “made it”. Whatever the hell that meant.
“Okay, call if there’s trouble. I’ll be,” Clarke’s eyes narrowed as she looked for a place to sit that was far enough away for Bellamy’s liking, while still being close enough to keep an eye on him. “There. On that bench if you need me, kay?”
“I’m sure I won’t need you. It’s just The Arc. Lowest key place I could go.” He gave her a forced half smile.
Clarke returned with a tight smile of her own and kissed his right cheek before retreating to her bench just across the street.
Bellamy went in and sat at the corner table in the back, closing his eyes to take in the smells and sounds of the small café he’d always loved and missed. He was so lost in listening to the subpar music that he happened to just barely catch the ending of the sentence from a very familiar voice.
“—no sugar, thanks.”
His eyes snapped open to see Murphy standing at the counter. His heart began to race as he questioned if he should get up and say hi or not. The choice was made for him when Murphy locked eyes with Bellamy. He seemed to stop breathing for a second until he heard the server call his name. He handed the man money with a small “thanks” as he took his drink and walked over to Bellamy.
“Bellamy fucking Blake? Is that you?” He smirked.
Bellamy swallowed thickly and smiled. “Fuck, Murph,” He breathed out, contemplating on getting up and giving him a hug or staying put, and he decided on the latter. He cleared his throat and tried speaking again. “Um, how are you?”
“How am I? How are you is the better question. Or maybe I should be asking you for your autograph.” He joked, and sat down, but he didn’t take off his jacket. “Shit, is that really you behind that beard?” Murphy laughed in that way he did when he was in front of people. Mainly when he was too uncomfortable or insecure to let the true him show. To everyone it was his regular laugh, but Bellamy knew better. He had the privilege of knowing better. Had.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Blake.” Murphy said with no real venom in it.
Bellamy smirked and crawled over him in the bed. “Am I?”
“Yeah, you are.” Murphy smirked back, even though he clearly didn’t have the upper hand while being beneath Bellamy.
Bellamy lent down and kissed his neck with vigor. Murphy let out a loud laugh that had Bellamy pulling back with a crinkled but confused smile on his face.
“Well that’s not the reaction I was going for.” He said simply. He was in shock, really. He’d never heard Murphy make such a noise like that and fuck was it beautiful. More beautiful than any music Bellamy had ever written or would be able to write.
Murphy’s laugh subsided into a quiet giggle. Still, such a joyous sound. One that sounded so different than the cold laugh he often hears in front of others. This laugh was just for him.
“Your stubble tickles.” He was smiling now.
“Oh,” Bellamy chuckled. “Didn’t realize you were ticklish.” He smirked again.
Murphy’s eyes widened for only a second before they were forced closed with loud laughter as Bellamy tickled Murphy’s sides. Bellamy let up after only a few seconds, but tears were already streaming down Murphy’s face as he continued to laugh. He had stopped tickling him, but it was like he couldn’t contain himself. Like he held in his laugh for so long that he just couldn’t do it anymore.
Bellamy began to laugh too and kiss all of Murphy’s exposed skin fondly.
Bellamy’s heart ached. He yearned to hear his laugh. His real laugh. “Yeah,” He replied as he rubbed his beard. He only let it get mildly stubbly when he was dating Murphy, but now he had a real beard. It aged him, but he didn’t care. “What has it been, like,”
“Four years.” Murphy cut him off and took a sip of his drink.
Bellamy leaned back in his chair. “Wow, four years?” When Murphy just nodded, Bellamy felt he had to change the direction of their conversation. He pointed to his beard. “Four years time.” He laughed a little half heartedly.
Murphy smirked back. “Same.” As he ran his hand over his stubble-free face. “Yours isn’t nearly as impressive as mine.”
“Oh, of course not. Would never be able to beat out your beard.” Bellamy held his hands up.
“Babe,” Bellamy called as he walked into their studio apartment after a long day at the studio. Their home was still pretty empty, but it was nice. It was theirs.
No response.
“Murph?” Bellamy called a little louder, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it up on the coat rack. He noticed Murphy’s leather jacket on the couch so he knew he was home.
“Hey,” Murphy popped his head out of the bathroom.
“Hey handsome.” Bellamy walked over and kissed him.
Murphy kissed back and whined when Bellamy pulled away.
“You’re so needy.” The older of the two chuckled and walked back into their living room—which was about two feet from the bathroom. Their apartment was small, but it was home.
Murphy’s head ducked back into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and Bellamy saw him lean over the counter and stare at himself in the mirror.
He admired the weird sight in front of him for a minute before interrupting. “Murphy, what the hell are you doing?”
He huffed and left the bathroom, flopping backwards onto the couch. “Why can’t I grow facial hair?”
“You kinda can? You just have to give it time.” Bellamy tried. He wasn’t too concerned about his boyfriend not being able to grow facial hair. First of all, they were still young, and second of all, facial hair just wouldn’t suit the younger man.
Murphy sat up. “This has been a while.” He deadpanned.
“Still as beautiful as ever.” Bellamy kissed his hairless cheek. He felt him smile under his lips.
“Oh, so I was thinking for di-“
Murphy was cut off by Bellamy’s phone ringing. “Sorry, Murph, it’s the record company. We’ll talk when I’m done, okay?” He kissed Murphy’s forehead and walked into their bedroom area for some privacy, plugging one ear as if Murphy was making any noise, leaving said man alone in silence. Not unusual for the two, but something Murphy would never get used to. Something he hoped would fade away.
“Four years, so you’re...” Bellamy looked up as he tried to calculate Murphy’s age.
“27. And you’re the big three zero, huh, how does that feel?” Murphy quirked an eyebrow up.
“I still feel 20,” Bellamy sighed. “Or at least I wish I was 20. Better times.” When we started.
“Bellamy,” Murphy’s lips twisted into a frown. “You’re still not happy yet?”
Bellamy was taken aback by how bold and blunt Murphy was, but he’d forgotten. Murphy’s always that way. Fuck, how had he forgotten? It made Bellamy a little sad. “I mean,” Bellamy ended his thought with a wave of his hand in the air.
Murphy looked upset, but he smacked on his smirk anyway and continued on, although Bellamy could see the sorrow in his eyes. “None of that bullshit, Blake. That’s supposed to be me. You got what you wanted. Didn’t you?” Which roughly translated to: you left me for this life, you better fucking like it. Murphy was thinking it, Bellamy could tell too.
“I mean,” I didn’t get you. “Yeah.” He looked at Murphy’s drink. Green tea. “I hope this is just-“
“Just a drink choice. Purely for the taste. As shit as you may think it is, I happen to think it’s comforting.” Murphy shrugged as he noticed Bellamy staring at the green tea tag that was hanging out of his cup.
Bellamy walked into their studio apartment to see Murphy on the couch in a blanket cocoon, lights off, shades drawn, with only the dim lighting of the TV on him. There was a single mug on the glass table in front of him.
“Bell?” Murphy’s voice came out hoarse and timid. He turned to look at Bellamy. Even in the dark, Bellamy could see the bags under his bloodshot eyes.
Bellamy put his stuff down, and went to throw out his scrapped song before talking to Murphy. Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed the garbage was completely empty aside from a shit load of used tea bags.
“Murphy, what the hell is this?” He walked over to the light switch and flicked it on. Murphy winced at the sudden change in lighting. “Jesus, you look like shit.” Bellamy said as he got a better look at Murphy. His cheeks were sunken in, eyes, dull and red, also sunken in.
“Where were you?” He asked.
“Murphy, why is there no garbage other than about a hundred tea bags?” It came out a little more aggressive than he intended, but he just worked for three days straight, only taking breaks to sleep in the studio for a few hours at a time. He was fucking tired.
Murphy blinked back. “I don’t—what else should be in there?” He brought a hand out of the blanket to rub one of his eyes.
“I don’t know, napkins, food wrappers? Fucking, any indication to say you’ve eaten in the past three days?”
“I didn’t know where you were.” Murphy said, like that explained anything.
“So you didn’t eat?” Bellamy was bewildered.
“You were gone, Bell! I didn’t know where you were! I was scared!” He had one arm out of the blanket now, gesturing with it. He was wearing short sleeves, the first time Bellamy had seen him out of a sweatshirt in the past two months, and fuck, his arm was thin.
Bellamy thought for a minute. “Are you eating?”
Murphy’s eyes were watery now. “Yeah, I’m eating.” His voice was soft. “I was just stressed.” He looked down and started to rub his collarbone.
“Murph,” Bellamy sat on the couch next to him, taking his cold hand in both of his. “You have to eat even when you’re stressed out.”
“Just,” His voice wavered. “Just tell me where you are, okay?” He sounded and looked so small.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just in such a rush. I left a note.” Bellamy said.
“The note said ‘be back soon’. I didn’t know soon was so long.”
And Murphy didn’t know it then, but three days was going to seem like nothing to him over the course of the rest of their relationship. Three days was a blink of an eye. Months. That’s how his time passed. In months.
Murphy always told Bellamy it wasn’t his fault, and maybe it wasn’t, but he only got bad when things between them were bad. If Bellamy left without saying anything, or if they fought. Fighting was the worst, it was like Murphy purposefully refused to eat just to get under Bellamy’s skin.
“I’ve been doing group therapy for a bit now,” Murphy said. He cleared his throat and gave him an awkward smile. “Super weird, I’m the only guy there, all the worksheets are tailored towards females. Like, they say I’m included, but it’s hard to believe that when the worksheets specifically say ‘she’, you know?” He rambled. Bellamy knew why he suddenly got nervous.
“I tried to get you to go for a while,” Bellamy said.
Murphy rubbed his collarbone. “Yeah, I—well basically I realized I couldn’t maintain a healthy relationship if I didn’t have one with food, and I really wanted that healthy relationship, so,” He gave a short laugh.
Relationship. “Are you...” Bellamy started, but didn’t dare finish his sentence. He most likely didn’t want to know the answer.
“Finn,” Murphy smiled, genuine for the first time since he sat down. “Um, yeah, we have a house, and we’re getting married soon.” He continued when Bellamy didn’t answer.
“Oh,” Bellamy felt his heart drop. “Wow, um, congrats, Murph.” He cleared his throat. He knew he didn’t sound sincere.
“Was it really how you wrote?” Murphy asked, changing the subject.
“What?”
“Us,” Murphy shook his head. “Your songs. They’re...I can tell they’re about us. You, I don’t know, you make it sound so...” He trailed off. “All I remember was the blood and tears.” He let out a short breath of a laugh through his nose.
“I fucked up a lot, I realize that,” He started, staring at Murphy’s hands now resting on the table. “But there were some good times. You don’t remember any of them?” He finally looked up, searching Murphy’s eyes.
“If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life’s best part,” The computer demo played. Murphy hit pause and looked up at Bellamy over the computer screen.
“It’s not over yet,” Bellamy said, he couldn’t read the expression on Murphy’s face.
Murphy just leaned over and kissed Bellamy, hard, forgetting about the laptop. Bellamy laughed a little into the kiss, and pulled back after a minute. “What was that for?”
Murphy’s eyes were big and open like the ocean. “Your life is my life’s best part too,” He said softly, not really needing to be loud since he was centimeters from Bellamy.
Bellamy moved the laptop out of the way and pulled Murphy onto his lap. “Are you saying you love me?”
“You know I do.” He wrapped his arms around Bellamy’s shoulders.
“Say it,” The older man kissed him slowly, with increasing passion.
Soon they were rutting up against each other, Bellamy’s lips and teeth attached to Murphy’s neck, and Murphy’s lips moaning “I love you”s.
Murphy took his hands off the table, placing them on his lap. “No, I remember the good times. I do.” His voice was sincere, but he didn’t make eye contact.
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a bit before Bellamy’s word vomit acted up. “Why Finn?”
Murphy blinked at Bellamy, clearly taken aback. “What?”
“I want you back, Murph,” He admitted.
Murphy’s expression was unreadable. “Fuck,” He laughed out after a minute of silence. “All that shit we went through, all this time, I’m with someone, Bell! I’m engaged! I have a fucking house,” Now he just looked hurt.
Bellamy shook his head. He definitely fucked up. “I’m sorry. It’s just—“
“You know,” Murphy cut him off, tapping his finger on the side of his coffee cup. “If you had asked me a month, no, a fucking week ago, I would’ve dropped every fucking thing and crawled back to you. But I just bought a fucking house with someone. Someone who I’m marrying in, like, two months. Bellamy.” He said. “You left me for this life. You wanted this. You can’t—“ He ran his free hand through his hair. “You can’t just say you want me back after four years of nothing.”
Bellamy wanted to cringe at himself. He fucked up, he royally fucked up.
Murphy waited for about half a minute before standing up. “I have to go,” Murphy began walking away, but stopped just at Bellamy’s side, not looking down at him. “Give me one reason.” It looked like it pained him to say it.
I’ll treat you the way you deserve. I can give you anything and everything you want. We were so great together. The good times were really good, at least. I love you, Murphy. I fucking love you. Bellamy chewed on his lip, staring at Murphy’s rising and falling chest. And Finn probably shows you that. That he loves you. Something I was too late on.
“I—“ Bellamy shook his head, looking down at the table. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Finn deserved Murphy. Fuck even if he didn’t, Bellamy sure as hell didn’t either.
Murphy leaned down, hesitated for a moment, and then kissed Bellamy’s cheek gingerly. Bellamy closed his eyes, and leaned into the touch just a bit. “I’ll always love you, Bell.” He whispered.
By the time Bellamy opened his eyes, Murphy was gone. Leaving him alone with a racing heart and thoughts. He ran his hands over his face.
“Bell?” Bellamy quickly looked up, hoping, even though he could hear the difference in voices.
“Yeah?” He sighed, meeting Clarke’s gaze.
“Time to go,” Her eyes scanned over his face. “Everything okay?”
Bellamy nodded somberly. “Tired.” He said.
“Okay, well you have to be all smiles, because we have a meeting in,” She looked down at her phone for the time, then began responding to messages. “About ten minutes, so if you want I can order you a coffee,” She sighed and began dialing and held the phone between her ear and shoulder. She dug through her pockets and pulled out some money, handing it to Bellamy. “Just get a coffee, and meet me out in the front,” She smiled. “Yes, hello? We’re at The Arc, no, right in the front,” Clarke spoke into the phone at the driver, and walked out, leaving Bellamy alone again.