So Bellamy had a few too many drinks, but what else was he supposed to do when he was surrounded by his best friends, his last exam chucked out the window? It was probably because he usually drank beer and Miller kept handing him odd colored shots while Octavia shouted at him to toss 'em back.
It had been a successful night; Octavia didn't throw up, Miller passed out before he could make a fool of himself in front of Monty, and Clarke sobered up enough to drive the girls home. Only if Bellamy had done the same.
Sadness loomed over him as he stumbled alone towards his decrepit, two bedroom apartment. He usually had his arm slung over Murphy's shoulder, whispering liquor scented sweet nothings in his ear, hoping that he wouldn't have to spend the night alone. The only time he found himself in Murphy's bed was when he was drunk. He cared too much to do the same thing sober. He cared too much about a guy who only cared about finding his next cigarette and surviving.
Bellamy slumped into the apartment door, he found the right key but was too intoxicated to push it through the lock. When he finally did get it open, he expected to see Murphy sitting on the counter, eating cereal and reading The Tempest. Instead he was gone, doing whatever he does at 4′o clock in the morning, leaving Bellamy to stumble towards his room feeling even lonelier. He pretended not to notice all the clothes and empty bottles of Jack Daniels on the floor. He pretended not to realize that he was partially naked in Murphy's bed, surrounded by the familiar scent of smoke and musk. Sleep came easy, but the truth hit him hard.
"Bellamy?"
He turned at the sound of Murphy's cool voice, and through his bleary eyes Bellamy made out the dark silhouette in the doorway.
"Try not to drink so much next time, maybe you'll make it to your own bed," Murphy laughed, his full figure coming into view. Pale and handsome, he peeled off his shirt and pants, but didn't sit down on the bed.
"I thought this was my bed," Bellamy groaned, rolling onto his elbow to get a better view of Murphy.
"Oh cut the crap, Bell," Murphy rolled his eyes, "You think I don't know what your doing?"
"What am I doing?" Bellamy smirked, but Murphy shook his head and pushed his hair back from his face.
"You're using me," Murphy exhaled his words, as if he'd been holding them in far too long.
Bellamy's heart dropped, is this what Murphy thought of their nights together?
"Murphy-"
"Shut up, Bellamy!" Murphy's face was flushed, clearly from anger, "You stumble in here drunk, hoping that I'm feeling just as lonely as you are, and then you act like it never even happened. You go back to your room and we pretend we're just roommates who don't give a shit about each other!"
"I don't pretend!" Bellamy exclaimed, ignoring the pounding in his head, "I think about you all the time, I just don't know what to do."
Murphy looked awestruck with his lips parted and eyes burning into Bellamy's skin.
"Tell me the truth," he said flatly.
"The truth is, I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."
"W-what?" Murphy took a step back, trying to process what he had just heard.
"I have to go," Bellamy mutterer, desperately trying to pull on his clothes before his fear broke him down completely.
"Bellamy wait," pleaded Murphy, standing in front of Bellamy who had only managed to get on his pants.
"I'm terrified too," he licked his lips and looked down at the floor, "I've been in love with you since freshman year, but those nights I thought you were just using me because I was here, because I was convenient."
"No," Bellamy sighed, tilting Murphy's chin so their eyes could meet, "Those nights meant everything to me. You mean everything to me, I was just afraid."
Murphy opened his mouth but no sound came out, he was too in shock, too entranced by Bellamy's words. Murphy kissed him, saying what needed to be said without speaking at all.
"Goddamn it, I love you," Murphy said breathlessly, only inches away from Bellamy's lips.
"I love you too," Bellamy smiled.