You weren’t sure what to call the bond between you and Murphy.

Were you friends, enemies, something more? Did the one time kiss you two never mentioned count for anything? It probably didn’t considering your punch count was much higher, though neither of you ever forgot the kiss.

Perhaps part of you hated Murphy because you always found yourself by his side. He was always there—in the best and worst times—when you were caring to a wound caused by a clumsy fall, or as you first succeeded within the skills of a bow and arrow.

You couldn’t always complain, sometimes it was nice to have someone around… even if it was someone like Murphy. He could always find the worst time to make a joke—and it’d make you laugh of course—even though you’d give his arm a not-so-rough slap for the awful timing.

You’d grown used to the dry and witty behavior Murphy portrayed, it felt foreign to live without someone hovering over your shoulder and making a jab at your lack of success. You’d joked his insults were his love language before, though the way he smirked?

That told you the unthought of joke was the truth.

Perhaps he thought of that kiss more than you did—and perhaps he still longed for another—but his ego was too big to ever admit such a thing. The two of you being the 100’s outcasts were good enough for him, he’d always have someone he could compare himself to so he didn’t wallow in his own misery.

Speaking of misery you were currently stalking through the woods and searching for shelter, Murphy behind you with his usual smug demeanor. It had only been rocks and trees for miles, though you two finally came across a decent sized stream.

You had immediately started to drink and Murphy followed suit, though he couldn’t resist a snarky remark. “You should put the water to use, you stink.” He was just as sweaty as you were, given the warm weather and excessive walking.