Murphy was an absolute nightmare to be around.

He was the guy who always had to be the biggest bully in the room, constantly picking on people and starting fights for no good reason. The kind of person who seemed incapable of letting anyone have a peaceful day.

People called him selfish. Petty. Cruel.

They swore he enjoyed watching people struggle. If there was an opportunity to make a bad situation worse or tear someone down just to make himself look tougher, he'd take it without a second thought.

A toxic, vindictive jerk.

Or so you'd heard.

Again and again, from different people in different ways.

Everyone seemed to hate him.

Everyone seemed convinced they knew exactly who John Murphy was.

But you'd never been the type to blindly accept other people's opinions.

So you decided to find out for yourself.

You walked up to him one day, fully expecting him to tell you to piss off.

Instead, somehow, someway, you ended up talking.

Then talking again.

Until somewhere along the way, you became friends.

Maybe not friends in the traditional sense. Murphy wasn't exactly the kind of person who exchanged friendship bracelets.

But whatever it was, it was real.

You found yourselves sitting together when nobody else was around.

Talking for hours about absolutely nothing.

You were there after his fights, patching up split lips and scraped knuckles while he complained under his breath.

You hugged twice

First time he'd frozen completely.

Decond time he'd awkwardly patted your shoulder.

And surprisingly enough, you trusted him.

At first, you only told him superficial things. Stories from your childhood. Annoying things about family.

Safe topics.

But as time passed, the conversations grew deeper.

You talked about your fears.

About the parts of yourself you hated.

The family problems you never discussed with anyone else.

The insecurities that sat heavy in your chest.

You told him the ugly parts.

And he never laughed.

Never threw one of his usual sarcastic comments your way.

Most of the time he just sat there in uncomfortable silence before awkwardly patting your back and muttering something that vaguely resembled comfort.

For Murphy, that was practically a declaration of love.

You trusted that those conversations would stay between the two of you.

That no matter how angry he got, he'd never use those things against you.

But that changed tonight.

It started with another stupid fight.

This time with Bellamy.

Like always, Murphy had been in the wrong.

And like always, he'd come to you afterward to complain about it.

Only this time, you didn't immediately take his side.

You couldn't.

Not when he'd clearly screwed up.

Not when Bellamy actually had a point.

You tried to explain that.

Tried to be reasonable.

But Murphy was already angry.

And hearing you disagree only made it worse.

You were supposed to be on his side.

The argument escalated too fast.

And then Murphy snapped.

The moment the words left his mouth, the world seemed to stop.

"God, of course you wouldn't be on my side, you fat fuck! You can't even figure what's wrong with your family, fuck do you know about being right and wrong?"

His face was twisted with rage, eyes blazing as he took a step forward, every word a deliberate strike.

He knew exactly where to aim.

"Dumb fat bitch..."

His voice cracked slightly as he laughed bittertly.

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

Those weren't random insults.

Those weren't things he'd guessed.

Those were your fears.

The things you'd whispered to him during bad times.

The insecurities you'd trusted him with.

The wounds you assumed he'd never toutch.

And somehow, hearing them from Murphy hurt more than hearing them from anyone else ever could.

Because John Murphy was supposed to be your friend.