WHO: Johanna Mason and John Murphy WHEN: the 15th, approx. WHERE: The cruise ship, mostly in a hallway several floors above Murphy's actual room. WHAT: Murphy gets drunk, gets sad, and becomes a mess. Johanna comes and saves him. WARNINGS: Mentions of gun violence against another character. STATUS: gdoc, finished
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Murphy was drunk after his night with Bellamy. He had started texting Johanna asking to see her, and Johanna teased him, telling him to go to bed. The conversation escalated when Murphy told Johanna about shooting Raven and declaring himself a fuck up. There was crying and Johanna insisting on coming to find him. He asked Do you think you could love someone else that's not Katniss? Johanna told the truth.
She was only a few decks below where he was and she hauled ass to get to him. Johanna had no motherly instincts and wasn’t even really sure how to console someone. Her dad always told her to suck it up when she cried. Her mother was a little bit better, but not by much. They had to be strong in Panem, and not let feelings get in the way. Because if you started to think about your life there, you’d fall into a hole and never get out of it.
Johanna stepped off the elevator and slipped her phone into her back pocket. She walked down the hall until she saw a large potted plant (it was fake), and a crumpled up Murphy beside it. Quickly, she was at his side, on her knees and then sitting on her legs. She put one hand over his ear and pulled him to her chest. “Hey, baby, it’s okay.”
One thing had lead to another, and now Murphy found himself curled up, taking refuge next to a plastic potted plant. He tried to figure out how it came to this, how he let his buried emotions get the better of him. They had swelled up so quickly, swallowing him to drag him under.
Now he was crying, chest shaking with each whimper that bubbled into his throat. Murphy reasoned with himself, he wasn’t sobbing; this could be a lot worse. Johanna didn’t sound too disturbed by how quickly their conversation degraded. The drinking didn’t help to ebb away his emotions, it only fueled the guilt and regret.
Raven forgave him, Murphy reminded himself. That didn’t matter because Murphy still hadn’t forgave himself. That’s what he continued to drag with him, the heavy burden always weighing him down.
Murphy didn’t see Johanna at first, much too busy in his own thoughts and jerked when her voice reached his ears. He let out a hitched breath, and let himself crumple onto her. “It’s not, it’s not,” he repeated, sniffling up the snot that began to drip down his nose.
So he shot a friend of his and alcohol magnified his regret. She understood what it was like to get loaded and cry over things you wish you didn’t do. A part of her was somewhat pleased with seeing this side of him, while the other part was uncomfortable and wanted to stop it. He took care of her when she was drunk, put her to bed and took off her shoes. So she’d sit with him in the hall until he was done crying.
Johanna started to rock back and forth a little, trying to remember what it was like when she was small with her mother. No one consoled her when she cried after a certain age, it was a ways back in her mind. She moved her hand off his ear and kept smoothing his hair back, until her fingers were gently scratching his scalp. There was a little part of him, that nasty part that everyone had, that wanted to pull away from her. He didn’t deserve the comfort nor the warmth that Johanna was ready and willing to give to him. The other part want to soak it all up like a sponge. He wanted so very badly for the festering feelings of guilt to go away, he wanted to know that Johanna didn’t think he was the man he thought he was. He let the better part of him win and sank onto the warmth that radiated from her body.
“Yeah, it is, it is okay, Murphy. It’s behind you now. You don’t have to talk about it or think about it anymore. It’s over.”
His lips pursed and let out a shaky breath. “She almost -- she almost died, Jo,” Murphy said, voice in obvious pain. “Not once, not twice, but three times. All because of me.” Murphy shook the thought of Raven looming over the both of them.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his hairline, and Murphy closed his eyes. “Do you want to go to bed? You can sleep next to me. I’m scary, I’ll keep the bad shit away.”
He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away his tear stained cheeks, and used his knuckles to grind away the other tears that threatened to trickle down his face. “You don’t have to sleep with me,” Murphy murmured, too scared to pull away, too scared to look into her eyes.
Johanna followed suit, pulling her shirt sleeve over her fingers and wiped his cheeks. “This girl, she sounds like she’s really fucking strong to be able to not die three times. It’s not like you shot her three times…” That wasn’t really a good argument, but it was all she had at the moment.
He laughed, the kind that was drowning in self-deprecation. “Yeah, she is.” And he gulped down the tightness in his throat. “She’s really fucking smart, too. She’s always saving our lives.” Just the thought of all she had gone through, all the pain and suffering and she still muscled through. Raven was still always there for her friends. His lower lip trembled, and quickly pressed his palm to his face.
“I want to. I want to return the love you’ve given me.” She stopped rocking and tried to move him to sit up. “And I like sleeping next to you. I feel safe. You know how hard it is for me to sleep?” She laughed a little, a forced laugh for the sake of trying to keep things light. But that was kind of really fucking hard considering their situation at the moment.
Was that what he was giving her? Love? Between his fingers he peeked out and his red, tired eyes look over Johanna. “I like sleeping next to you, too,” his voice muffled against his hand. Murphy let it fall away, slapping against his side.
“I’m sorry this happened. I didn’t want to upset you. I should have just came and got you, I’m the dick here, okay?”
He was looking into her eyes now. “It wasn’t you,” Murphy was quick to correct her. “It’s never you, Johanna.” Slowly Murphy was starting to get up. He didn’t want someone else to wander down the hallway and catch him being a crumpled mess on the floor.
Johanna slid a hand up the wall to steady herself, standing up too, quicker than Murphy. His balance was a little off, the alcohol taking it hostage for the time being. She took him by the wrist and steadied him. Once he was up, she wrapped her arm around his waist and started to walk down the hall. “Don’t get drunk like this again. Not alone, at least. With me or your curly haired angel boy.”
Most of his weight was pressed against her side, his chin nearly touching his chest to let his gaze follow his stumbled steps down the empty hallway. “I wasn’t drinking alone. I was drinking with Bellamy -- yeah, the curly haired angel boy.”
As they walked, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Get more of that crying out of your system?” She wondered if he’d bring up Katniss. She was ready for it, bring it on, skinny boy.
He knew it was a salty kiss, Johanna pressing her lips onto his tear streaked cheek. “No,” Murphy said, maybe a little too quickly. He shook his head before saying, “Not right now. I just. I just hope she’s doing okay. I mean I know she’s doing okay, she doesn’t need any of us. It’s just weird, you spend six years with someone and you learn more about them then you thought you would have,” his voice was straining again, straining to keep more tears from drowning his eyes.
“Are we going to my room or yours, hot stuff?” Johanna kept a smile on her face, hoping to cheer him up. It was a fake smile, she was actually happy she seemed to be helping. And it was nice to be in control of a situation as of late.
His head wobbled a little, almost like a newborn, and it tilted so he could get a better look at her. “We can go to my room. I think my room is closest, right?” He squinted his eyes, tipping his chin upwards to examine the blurred numbers that they passed. “What number was that,” he asked, slowly whirling around on the heels of his boots.
Johanna wondered for a moment if Murphy had feelings for Raven. The way he talked about her was like she hung the moon. But she knew that she adored Finnick and it stayed platonic. It was possible. She also wondered what it would have been like if she would have been friends with Murphy first. She was getting to know him in a different light. Was it better or worse this way?
She moved her arm up his back a little, supporting him a little better. “Put your arm around me, Noodle.” Johanna glanced back at the plaque by the door, “It wasn’t your room, your room is upstairs. I’ll get you there.” A short pause before adding in, “Yeah, you learn a lot about people after awhile. Finnick won his games at 14, I met him when I was 17 after I won. It feels like such a long time ago.” She snapped her head to look at him, “How old are you??”
Johanna kept him steady, kept him from tripping over his own feet. Murphy did as he was told and looped an arm around her, keeping him locked at her side. “You’re going to stay with me tonight, right,” he asked, not masking the plea in his tone. Murphy didn’t want to go to sleep alone, not tonight. He wanted her warmth against him, wanted to feel her fingers in his hair. Murphy wanted to listen to her voice until he fell asleep with his head nestled onto her chest.
“Yes, I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you like this.” He sounded desperate and it made her fill up with sadness. She wasn’t used to empathy, it was trained out of her a long time ago. They made it to the elevator and she walked slowly over the threshold so he wouldn’t trip. Johanna leaned forward, pulling Murphy with her, and pushed the button for his floor.
“I haven’t met Finnick yet,” he spoke out loud already knowing that Johanna knew this. Her next question seemed to catch him off guard, it made his face screw in tight. “I was 17 when they shot us to the ground and it’s not been six years so--” Murphy paused, looking down at his fingers and mouthing the numbers until he reached his age. “-- I’m 23.” The corners of his lips curled and slowly pulled into a smirk. “Why?”
Murphy was so close to her, one arm wrapped around her, holding himself to her. She was his anchor, kept him from drifting away, kept him from getting lost. He can smell the familiar notes that her shampoo and conditioner give off. It’s not her usual because she’s been using the amenities that the cruise offers them. The numbers are flashing overhead, and Murphy turned his head to look at them almost expectantly.
“He uses sign language sometimes. He used to love sweets, but can’t have them anymore. Well, he can, but it’s pointless. Finnick was my first friend. He was Annie’s mentor-- the person who gets you ready for your Games. He was the youngest person to win in years.” As he counted on his fingers, she smiled goofily at him. It was cute. “I told you, I just had a birthday. I’m 25 now. I’m older than you.”
She’s talking and despite being as drunk as he was, Murphy is listening to every word that rolls off her tongue. He kept his head from wobbling too much, eyes trained on her face, watching her lips move as she spoke. “He got his tongue cut off, right,” Murphy asked, trying to remember where he heard that from. “That must suck,” he added.
“He got caught during battle and turned into an Avox-- tongue cut out, made to be a servant. We found out he was alive after we won. I miss his voice.” The last part was said without any emotion, because it couldn’t be helped. It was just a fact, like the sky being blue.
The elevator chimed softly and she carefully moved him out of it. There’s no resistance and Murphy walked out of the elevator with her. “25, huh?” He gave her a side glance, that smirk still fresh on his face. “You’re okay being with someone 2 years younger than you?”
Now outside of the metal box, they stand in another hallway. Murphy leaned over, weight still settled against her to look down either end of the hallway. “I think my room is down there.”
“I know where your room is at, Noodle, I’ve been there a couple of times.” She rolled her eyes at him. “No, I don’t mind. They say girls mature faster than boys, so I should be with someone older than me, but you’ll do.” Johanna smirked right back at him.
“Because you are so much more mature and eloquent than me,” he murmured, rolling his eyes just like she had seconds ago.
“Besides, we were both 17 when shit went down for us, that’s something that connects us.” She licked her dry lips and stopped in front of his door. “When’s your birthday?” Without asking, Johanna reached for his bracelet arm and used it to open the door. The lights were all out.
Murphy was too busy looking at her to even realize that they had been walking down the hallway and were not stopped in front of his door. Lashes fluttered and he watched Johanna take his wrist so that the bracelet activated the lock mechanism to unlock the door for them. “My birthday,” he asked, stumbling into the darkened room. His eyes squinted, waiting for the to adjust to the lack of light. “June,” Murphy said after a little while. “June 18th.” He cut in front of her to lean against the part of the wall where he knew the light switches were. Blindly he flipped a switch and soon the room was lit up with a soft glow. “When’s your birthday?” Murphy whirled around, nearly getting tangled by his own legs, to look at her.
Her face said, ‘aw fuck it’ and she replied, “November 21st.” He got away from her to turn the lights on, and she went to wrangle him back up again. Johanna put an arm around his shoulder, making him bend down a bit. It wasn’t a headlock, I promise. “This one’s yours, right?” she pointed at one of the bedrooms and dragged him towards it.
He lifted his head up, his gazing following the point of her finger. “You don’t remember which one my room is,” Murphy asked, sounding a little offended. “Yeah, I think that’s the one,” he sounded unsure of himself.
Johanna gave him a Look. “My center is off, everything is backwards on this side of the boat.” Once in his room, she stood by the door, “Take off your shoes and pants, I’m going to get you some water.”
“That’s so much work,” he groaned, falling back onto the bed. “I’m not thirsty.”
Standing in front of the bathroom sink with a small paper cup, Johanna looked in the mirror. She got out of bed to get him and looked a little haggard. Again, she thought fuck it, and brought the water to Murphy. “Sit up to drink it.”
He was sprawled out on the bed, laying flat on his stomach and his limbs spread out. “I’m not thirsty.” Murphy’s head was at the foot of the bed, while his feet ( he had at least managed to toe off his boots) tucked under the pillows. “Put the water down and come lay next to me.”
Johanna sighed and put the water on the dresser. She flopped down onto the bed next to him and curled up close while he sprawled out. She was laying on one of his arms. “You’re not going to drink the fucking water, Murphy? Because your head’s going to hurt tomorrow...” she sounded like she was on the verge of laughing.
“I’ll drink some later, just not now,” he clarified. The room was already spinning around at a wobbly speed. If he closed one eye, though, the spinning stopped so now Murphy was looking at Johanna with one eye; the other was squinted shut.
She rolled onto her stomach so he could have his arm back and laid with him side by side. It was dim in the room but she could make out the shape of his head and the way his hair laid around his ears.
He slipped his arm from beneath her when she rolled off it. Murphy rested his cheek against the bed, still looking at her through one opened eye. “You’re pretty, do you know that,” Murphy asked dumbly. Johanna propped herself up for one second and put a hand over one of her eyes. “And you’re saying that with only one good eye, wow.” He couldn’t see in the dark, but her ears pinkened and felt warm.
“All I need is one good eye to know that.” Half of his smirk was pressed onto the bed.
“Do you feel any better now? Did I fix it?” There was a hint of eagerness in her voice. You couldn’t really fix regret, but you could make it go away for a little while. That’s pretty much what life was, just trying to feel okay for a little bit at a time-- at least that’s what Johanna thought. That’s how she lived. “Hold me close and tell me how great I am and how much you love me.”
Slowly Murphy nodded his head to her first question. She had fixed it. He didn’t know how, but that didn’t matter too much to him. “You fixed it,” he reassured her, putting his arm around her waist. He pulled her in close, nuzzling his face into her hair. “I love you, Johanna,” his voice muffled against her hair.
She let herself be pulled in, twisting onto her side and looking smug. Fixed it. She pulled her legs up against his side, wishing that he would have laid in bed correctly. Johanna was going to tell him to get up and take off his jeans. He continued to speak and Johanna froze. He was drunk. But she wanted it to be true. God, she wanted it to be true. Against her better judgement, she asked, “Do you really?”
He made a sound, a little groan as he shifted around with her, letting her tuck her legs against his chest comfortably. “Why? You don’t think I’m capable of loving you?” Slowly he lifted his cheek off of the bed, squinting at her with both eyes now. “Because I can and I do.” And then his head dropped back down as if it were suddenly dead weight.
“It’s not because I think you can’t… you’re drunk, Murphy.” On her side, she was able to bring her arms up between them and turn his face towards hers. It wasn’t just the idea of being loved by someone, but being loved by someone who was so picky about the people he associated with. He loved someone once before her, and to her, this was all new. Maybe he knew better? Maybe they were just obsessed with each other. “I love you, too.”
Murphy was looking at her with both eyes still, trying to focus the two faces into one. He couldn’t keep track of where all four of her eyes were looking, but then he realized they were all looking at him. Her hands were cool against his warmed and buzzed cheeks. “That feels nice,” Murphy finally spoke, a smile slowly touching his lips instead of his usual smirk.
His smile was infectious and Johanna’s was ear to ear. She pulled her hands away for a second, only to press the back of her knuckles to his cheeks. “Bad circulation,” Johanna whispered. She smoothed his hair back behind his ears and up away from his face, just staring.
“I meant you loving me,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “Your cold hands feel nice, too,” he added. He did the same as she, wiggling both of her arms free so that his hands could cup her cheeks. His thumb swept beneath her eye, feeling the soft skin beneath his touch. A sudden urge had washed over him just then, and a moment later Murphy brought his face closer to hers and pressed his lips to her lips.
She stretched her legs out-- thin leggings and bare feet slipping under the pillow. She wanted to get closer to him, pressing her body against his and kissing him back. Johanna held his jaw in her hands and was a little struck dumb with his tenderness. How could people be so different in private? She pulled back and her lips hovered near his for a moment. “Are you sure? Because if you’re wrong about this…” Her face scrunched up, a little bit of anger flashing up from her chest. “Don’t lie to me, this is really all I have.”
Murphy didn’t realize it, but he closed his eyes the moment his lips touched hers. They fluttered opened when she pulled back. It took a second to focus and two faces became one. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this,” his tone had dropped to nearly a whisper. “You trust me, don’t you?” His eyes were searching in hers, getting lost in the soft brown that was always so welcoming.
His eyes were hypnotizing. Her mouth dropped open and most of a word tumbled out, “Y-yeah.” Johanna hooked her leg over his and pushed herself up from the bed, rolling him onto his back. The movement sent his buzz straight to his head, the room whirling around in the background while she stayed as one whole person instead of blurry twins. Once she was seated atop him, she leaned down to kiss his eyelids, palms against his chest. Murphy let out a soft sigh, nodding his head at her stumbled ‘yeah’. “I trust you. Say it again anyway.” Johanna pressed on him to sit up straight and look down at his face in the dim room.
Murphy made another sound, shifting beneath her so he was laying more comfortably on his back. The room may have been dark, but Murphy could see her face just fine. “I --” he begun to say, resting his hands onto her hips. He like the way it felt, like his hands were supposed to be there. She felt so little and Murphy wanted to keep her safe. “-- love you, Johanna.”
She blinked slowly, feeling like she was under a spell. Johanna put her hands over his on her hips. She rubbed his wrists with the pads of her fingers and stared down lovingly at him and Murphy squeezed her hips reassuringly. “You mean a lot to me, Murphy. You shouldn’t have to cry ever again, okay? I’ll be here for you. If you’re anywhere unhappy, I’ll find you and I’ll fix it for you.”
“I don’t cry all the time,” his voice cracked, but this time no tears came from his eyes. He had cried enough tonight, that’s what he told himself anyway and he didn’t want to make Johanna sad. Instead he smiled, the kind that held back tears, the kind that really didn’t reach into his eyes, but he smiled up at her anyway.
If you would have told her this would be happening three weeks ago she would have laughed at you. She scooted down his body until she was resting lower on his legs and bent to put her head on his chest. A little muffled, she came back at him with, “I know you don’t, I’m just telling you it’s over now.”
“You already fixed me,” Murphy spoke gently, his hands slipping away from her hips. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so close to him. “And it feels so nice.”
Johanna held onto his arms loosely, then brought one hand up to her face. She idly rubbed one of her knuckles over her bottom lip, still in a trance. She was soothed by his breathing and his voice, and even though he still smelled of alcohol, she breathed him in.
“C’mon, get up, let’s go to sleep, other end of the bed...” But she didn’t move.
“Okay, let’s go to sleep.” Murphy started to sit up, pulling himself halfway up, only to lean on his bent elbows when she spoke up again. Suddenly she spoke up a little louder, “I had a dream about you. I don’t remember what it was about, but you were there… You’re always on my mind, even when I’m asleep.”
“Was it a good dream,” he asked. He sat up fully now, which made her fall backwards, but at least her head fell closer to the pillows. “I hope it was,” his tone a murmur as he dropped down next to her, slipping his arms around her once again and his cheek nestled against her chest.
She fell backwards and let out a loud laugh, then quickly shushed herself, “Shh, shh, roommate.” Johanna scooted around in the sheets, wrapping her arms around his neck and head. She hugged him to her chest, “It wasn’t a nightmare...” Johanna started to pet his hair, chin angled down to see his face. “I promise, Murphy. I’ll take care of you.” She wanted to tell him again that she loved him, she wanted it to become the only words in her vocabulary, but she would only be talking to a sleeping Murphy now. He hadn’t even tucked himself under the covers when sleep took him away, feeling perfectly safe where he lay. His arms tangled around her.