Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

59. extra

"Ethan?"

Pressing his face into the pillow was his vain attempt at re-reaching the depths of sleep. Palming a hand to his ear was definitely to block the noise out.

Of course, none of these options work, and Ethan can still hear the exhasperated voice.

"Ethan."

He groans, the sound drawn out in annoyance.

He doesn't care, he's tired.

"There's no lock," Ethan says, disgruntled words muffled through the pillow. "Stop knocking."

Taking the hint, Murphy drags the door open.

He pauses in the metal arch.

Ethan's lying face-down, a jean-clad leg hanging off the bed and strong arms cradling the pillow. He's shirtless, again, leaving Murphy with a perfect view of those dimples at his lower back.

He clears his throat.

Blinking, Ethan squints at the wall closest to his face, the light burning his retinas. Flipping his head over the other way, it finally clicks who he'd let into the room without question.

The one and only John Murphy. The same kid Ethan - at some point in his life - would've been worried seeing at a waking moment.

Now?

"Hey," Ethan grumbles, stretching to the length of the bed with a satisfied groan. "I was sleeping."

Murphy forces his eyes away. Scrubs a hand down his face and pinches at the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat.

"It's the middle of the day," He says, stepping further into the room. "And you let me in."

"The knocking was annoying." Ethan yawns, heaving himself up until his legs were off the bed and his toes brushed the ground. He blinks at Murphy's cargo-pants in a daze, his brain striving to wake up.

Dragging a hand through his hair, coarse from the saltwater, he notices with a frown that the twists and loops are starting to loosen out of Murphy's hair, too.

"What d'ya need?" Ethan hooks a hand around the rail of the upper bunk and pulls until he's standing.

Murphy's eyes follow him, "Monroe was worried when you didn't find her at breakfast." He says it like it's an inconvenience.

Ethan lifts a brow, "Then where is Monroe?"

"I'm the only one who knows where your room is." Murphy retorts, strolling across the floor.

Lorelai's room, more specifically. Small and empty, occupying just the bunk bed, a circular table, two chairs, and a set of metal draws. But it feels too clean, not personal enough.

Murphy sleeps in a tent to himself, tucked away in a corner of Harley's guarded section of camp. He was used to it. Their sleeping situation before the Ark came down wasn't any different. The only difference now was that he didn't know the people from Alpha Station. Didn't trust them.

The only reason Ethan is in a room and not a tent like himself is because of Lorelai.

Her new job claimed her the privilege. Even if Ethan protested being split from the remaining delinquents, happy to tent beside them.

It wasn't a request though, and Ethan was stuck with his mother at every waking morning.

Murphy leans against the table, cocks his head and asks with a smug smirk, "Not happy to see me?"

"Dunno, you're like, tenth on my list."

Murphy shoots him an offended glance.

Ethan barks a laugh. The corner of his eyes creased in a way that says he's not suffocating with stress or fear. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."