YEAR THREE

[ ON THE RING ]

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YEAR THREE.

"Murph."

Sayah was pulling at his arm gently now, voice soft. John Murphy laid still on the cold metal floor in the corridor, eyes closed and body quivering slightly. Sayah gently cupped his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb. She frowned, "You gotta get up, okay, you can't. . . you can't sleep here. You're shaking."

Murphy let out a sigh, placing his hand over hers. "I don't want to move, Sayah. Just leave me."

Sayah shook her head. "Come on, Murph, you can come rest in my bed." Silence. Sayah bit her lip. "Don't make me grab Bellamy."

Murphy had been doing this for a while. After Sayah had slowly gotten better, more lively, more happy, she had been getting into work—helping Monty in the kitchen, helping him perfect his algae recipes. As she was getting better however, it wasn't long until Murphy went down too. Avoiding the late window talks, avoiding everyone, avoiding doing work, then more vital things: avoiding eating and starting to sleep in places like the cold metal hallways. He was doing it to himself. Torturing himself.

But Murphy didn't leave her when she was struggling, so she wouldn't leave him.

"Grab Bellamy," Murphy turned away from her, "I don't care."

"You can rest, okay, just not here." Sayah brushed some hair away from his face. "Come on, pass me your hand." And she grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him into her slightly. He obeyed, eyes now open. "Up we go." She stood up with him, hands interlocked as they walked through the corridor and into Sayah's room.

"Bottom or top bunk?" Sayah hummed.

"Whatever." Murphy replied, voice thick with sleep as he pulled away from her and sunk into the bottom bunk. Sayah watched with a frown as he got comfortable, his face void of emotion and his eyes tired.

"You want to eat anything?" Sayah questioned.

"No."

"You should." Sayah walked towards him, sitting at the edge of her bed beside him. "You need to."

"I need to do a lot of things according to everyone else on this stupid ring, but I don't. And I'm fine." Murphy snapped.

Sayah stared down at him, brows furrowed. "Look at me." Murphy sighed, opening his eyes to look back up at her. She glanced down for a moment, taking his hand in hers again and then looking back at him. She loved his eyes. "You're not fine, Murph." He stayed silent, only staring back at her with dull eyes. She squeezed his hand once, "Don't. . . don't shut me out."

   "What, like you did to me?" Murphy murmured, before swallowing thickly. Sayah's lips parted, and after a moment of silence, Murphy sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

   "It's fine," She smiled weakly. He was right. She had shut him out when she needed him the most, but she wouldn't let him do the same.

   Murphy glanced away, jaw tightening. Sayah waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. She inhaled sharply, "I have to go help Monty in the kitchen again, but you can stay here as long as you want."

   "And when you come back?" His eyes shifted to meet hers. He prayed she wouldn't make him do anything. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to do anything.

   Sayah stared at him, admiring his face before she nodded. "I'll have food for you—if you're still here, that is."

   Murphy pursed his lips, and Sayah knew it was to avoid smiling as he replied, "Your bed isn't that comfortable, so we'll have to wait and see."

   When Sayah returned, full bowl of algae in hand, Murphy was snoring quietly.

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   "You let your food go cold." Sayah frowned, eyes on the full bowl that hadn't been touched from where it sat on the floor beside the bed. "And even more gross, which I didn't think was really possible."

"Wasn't hungry." Murphy replied, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. He wasn't looking at her, eyes more focused on the metal wall.

It was the same as most days lately. Sure, he wasn't sleeping out in the cold corridor, but he still avoided eating and doing anything with anyone. He knew Sayah hated it, and he hated it too—he hated most things. He could never get himself to hate anything to do with her though, except maybe her persistence.

Sayah would never let him go, he realised. He realised that she would never give up on him, and a part of him, even now—even as his body and his mind felt like they did nothing but decay—didn't want her to.

"Liar. Can't go all day without eating," Sayah hummed, taking a seat beside him, feeling the bed dip under her weight.

"Monty's wasting food." Murphy grumbled, jaw tight.

"Not a waste." Sayah easily replied, running her fingers through his hair. It was getting long, and even though she liked it, things had to change. They both had to. She examined his hair in her fingers. "Might need a haircut soon, hey?"

"Whatever." He replied, ignoring the way she sighed and her fingers went still in his hair.

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   "I like it. Do you like it?" Sayah questioned, holding a mirror up to Murphy. Raven had cut his hair, Sayah had asked her to. But he didn't care about a stupid haircut—he just wanted to go back to bed. He just wanted to disappear.

   Murphy huffed, glancing around at his face in the reflection. He didn't exactly recognise himself. His eyes were dull and his mouth was in a thin line. He looked back to Raven, who was grinning. "You enjoyed that."

   "Yep." Raven nodded, smile wide and confident.

   Murphy rolled his eyes before he got up, brushing past the two girls and heading straight back to Sayah's room.

"Uh. . . you're welcome!" He heard Raven call out to him, tone slightly defeated. A 'thank you' wanted to spill out of his mouth (prone to manners after knowing Sayah so long), but it somehow almost felt impossible for him to speak, and so nothing came out.

  It wasn't long until Murphy made it to Sayah's room, opening the newly repaired door and shutting it behind him. Sayah would be following after him, he knew, that's just what she did. She didn't leave him alone, and now he knew how she felt when he was looking after her. Now he understood.

   Murphy was just about to climb and hide back under the covers when the door finally opened. "You didn't even say thank you to Raven, Murph." Then a sigh. "Don't tell me you're going straight back to bed." Sayah's voice was tired, exhausted. Oh, she was tired?

   Murphy's mouth felt like working again apparently when he began to spill out his next words. "I got up, like you asked, I ate, like you asked—I let Raven cut my hair, like you asked." Murphy ranted, turning around to face her. "What more do you want from me?"

   "I want you to stop this." Sayah rushed out, gesturing to the bed. "I hate this— I hate seeing you suffer like this!" She paused, speaking lower, calmer. "Murph, you can't just lay in bed forever."

   "You think I want to?" Murphy snapped, face twisting into one of hurt and anger. He felt tears start to form in his eyes, all because of an argument they both knew they would once have, an argument that was past due.

   "I don't know." Sayah shook her head, throwing her hands up. Her voice was growing in volume. "I don't know what you want, or what you need—you don't talk to me!"

   "Oh, I don't talk to you?" Murphy repeated, scoffing. The volume of his voice began to overtake hers. "You don't listen! I've told you what I want! I want to stay in bed! I'm not hungry! I don't want to get up and work! Leave me alone!"

   "Leave you alone?" Sayah echoed, shaking her head. "And what, let you waste away and die on this ring?"

   "It's none of your business whether I live or die on this stupid ring." Murphy spat back, carelessly, turning away from her.

   Sayah shook her head, grabbing his wrist and turning him back to face her. "The hell it isn't—it's my business because I care about you!"

   Murphy snatched his wrist back in seconds, like her touch was poison; the complete opposite of what it really always felt like to him. Again, his mouth was working like new and before he even could think, his next words came out harshly. "Well, maybe you shouldn't." He snapped.

Sayah's face crumbled in front of him. Crumbled in a way he had seen too many times; crumbled in the same way it did all the other times he had hurt her. Her lips parted and Murphy wanted to think he imagined the way she recoiled back at his words.

"How can you even look me in the eye and say something like that?" She whispered, brokenly; hurt.

   Murphy frowned as guilt began to claw at his stomach, tearing him apart, ripping him to shreds. He opened his mouth to speak, but of course, perfect timing, it was broken again. No words escaped him. A wonderful throw by John Murphy here, ladies and gents, a perfect bullseye, straight into the heart of the girl he loves more than anything else in the world. What a win. Funny, how John Murphy didn't feel like a winner—not at all.

   "Maybe in your mind, you're right. Maybe I shouldn't." Sayah finally spoke, voice barely holding together as her eyes scanned him, searching—what was she looking for? A stab wound? A hole where he bled out of? Something she could find that could explain why he would say something like that? "But not in mine. Like it or not, I do care, so how 'bout you take a moment, and then come and find me when you realise that? 'Cause, clearly you've forgotten." Her finger was at his chest now, pointing and digging into him with almost every word—not harshly, no, that wasn't her finger that had his heart suffocated tightly, it was guilt. He regrets it? John Murphy regrets the shot? Of course he regretted it—he regretted a lot of things, he remembered, as he watched Sayah walk away, leaving him alone, leaving him to do nothing but sink down into the cold floor and stay there, his head in his hands.

   Clearly, you've forgotten. He had. He really had, hadn't he?

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   Murphy felt every single time he had hurt Sayah stab him in the chest all over again as he laid in her bed, weeping. He felt hot tears trickle down his cheeks and trace the shell of his left ear. The same metal wall that stared back at him, like every other day, was now blurred and smudged from his tears.

   Suddenly, he heard the large door open—she was back. He held his breath for a moment, before releasing it as quietly as he could, wiping away any tears with the heels of his palms. Sayah was putting things down, maybe moving things around, he couldn't tell as his back was to her but he could hear some rustling and movement. Then some footsteps, getting louder as she approached him. She would sleep on the top bunk, like always lately.

A shadow appeared over him, and the bed creaked with added weight. Murphy felt warmth lay along his back and an arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. He froze.

"Not very comfortable if I'm sleeping with a statue." Sayah murmured, and he could feel her breath tickle the back of his neck. "Relax, Murph."

He did so, despite his nervousness.

Sayah huffed, and wrestled the covers out from under him so she could wriggle beneath them, increasing their shared warmth. He felt her legs make their way in between his, which was fair, because the bed was quite small and it was hard to fit the both of them. It had been a while since they were this close. Not even in bed, more so in general. Murphy, relaxed like she had asked of him, still didn't want to move.

"That wall cannot be more attractive than me." Sayah whispered. Her words were a push, a green light, and Murphy found that as his cue to turn and look at her.

She was beautiful, like always, her gaze soft in the low light as she pushed herself up onto her elbow, leaning her head in her palm and peering down at him. She laid on her side, Murphy half on his back, looking back at her.

Sayah looked disappointed with the state of him, frowning. "I hate it when you cry." She reached up to wipe away the stained tears smeared across his face. "More so when I'm the reason for it."

Murphy sniffled once, staring up at her with sad eyes. "Sayah. . ."

"Before you say anything, I wanted to say I'm sorry. That wasn't how I meant for today to go." Sayah spoke before he could, fingers gently resting on his cheek.

"My fault." Murphy answered, voice thick in the aftermath of tears.

"I know you're hurting," Sayah continued. "You don't need some annoying, little idiot yelling at you."

"You're not an annoying idiot," Murphy argued, frowning as he placed his hand over her own, holding it. "You're. . ." He looked down, avoiding her eyes, but Sayah tilted his head back up to look at her. He continued on. "You're all I need, and a lot more than I deserve. You've gone through a bad go of it too and you. . . you shouldn't be stuck with someone who takes you for granted."

     "I'm not stuck, my love." Sayah replied. He hadn't heard her call him her love in what felt like forever and his heart raced. It shocked him how quickly she could practically bring him back to life, have his heart pumping again. Especially when he hadn't felt it beat like that in a long time. He had almost began to assume it was dead and decayed.

     She continued, voice soft. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You can argue with me all you want—and I know at times it's easy to—but that's not going to change. I bother you because I want you to be okay. I want to see you happy." She paused, and her brows furrowed, "Because I love you."

Murphy wanted to kiss her, right there and then. But he didn't, instead squeezing her hand once. "I love you too. Always."

"Take your time." She hummed, falling back onto the pillow and leaning into him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Murphy was glad for that, he remembered, as he held her back tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head as their bodies pressed close together.

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YEAR FOUR

   "You seriously haven't done anything yet? Sayah, come on, you have to make a move—it's been four years. You two are in the best place right now for that to start up again." Emori whined.

"That being what?" Sayah rolled her eyes. "Last I remember it was selfishness."

Emori scoffed. "But your perspective on love has changed from that, I've seen it. And besides, there's no space on this ring for selfishness!" Emori frowned, shaking her head. "No—if anything there is—and that's okay!" she corrected, exasperated, facing the window again. "You're just putting it off."

"Well—maybe!" Sayah stuttered out. "I don't know 'Mori, it just seems. . ."

"Scary?"

Getting back together with Murphy? Was that scary? No. Was being with Murphy scary? A little. They had been through a lot, and had fallen in love so fast in the middle of so much going on. And now. . . they were in space. No wars, no missions, just them. And it was—

"It's perfect timing." Emori whispered in her ear. "You show up, you kiss him, he kisses you—"

"Stop whispering in my ear," Sayah hissed, swatting Emori's smiling face away. "It tickles."

"Sayah." Emori went serious. "Come on. What are you afraid of?"

Sayah pursed her lips, staring back out the window as she crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't answer.

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   "I think I'd feel better if aliens started attacking this ring." Was the first thing John Murphy said when he entered the room. Sayah was seated at the window, spare space beside her reserved for him. "It'd be the most entertainment I'd have seen this week." He took a seat beside her, their knees touching.

Sayah glanced down at their close proximity and pursed her lips. She felt like they were teenagers again, sitting on their cliff, sparing secret glances and ignoring the blushing on both of their faces whenever they made eye contact. "You don't like the ring?"

What a stupid thing to ask, she thought. She wanted to bang her head against the wall—being nervous around him was so unlike her.

"Well. . ." Murphy sighed, sarcasm already deep in his tone of voice. "There's a few things I do like about it."

Sayah felt his eyes on her, and it was hard to hide her smile. "Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"

"Well, you know. . ." Murphy cleared his throat, shrugging.

"Monty's recipes? Specialised by me?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Bellamy's lack of leader voice?"

"I don't like anytime Bellamy speaks— Ow!" Murphy rubbed his arm where Sayah had hit him.

"Don't be rude." She frowned and then suddenly smirked. "Have you noticed the voice he puts on for Echo though?"

"Okay, that's disgusting." Murphy shook his head. "They both need lessons in flirting. It's like watching two teenagers—both of them only recently hitting puberty."

"We weren't that good either." Sayah blurted out. Murphy's head moved quickly to look at her, intrigued. She shrugged, smirking. "I mean, I was great at it. You however. . ."

"I was better." Murphy scoffed. "You held a knife to my throat."

Sayah shrugged, amused. "I don't remember you complaining."

Murphy shut up then. His eyes searched hers as a smirk tugged at his lips. "Sayah."

"Murphy." Sayah raised a brow.

"Will you dance with me?"

Sayah's eyes widened. That was not what she had expected him to say. Playing off her surprise, she got to her feet and held out her hand for him. "Sure. Only out of pity."

Murphy laughed, and Sayah smiled because she loved the sound of it. His hand enclosed hers before he let her pull him to his feet. Then they moved closer and his hands found their way to her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

   "Just like in the kitchen." Murphy murmured quietly as a smile grew on his face.

   "Yeah." Sayah grinned. He was the one who had taught her how to dance. Back in the kitchen where they swayed just like they did now, where she promised him they'd be together. Their foreheads met, and they swayed until Sayah's breathing quickened as Murphy's hands moved a little lower.

The promise of them rang loud in her mind like a never-ending alarm. She couldn't help herself.

   "Sayah—" Murphy started to speak, but she cut him off as she leaned forward, pressing her lips onto his. He kissed back without hesitation. It was everything they had wanted for so long, and it was perfect. Both of their bodies buzzed with energy, warm and overwhelming, and they had both missed the feeling. It was intense and strong, Sayah could feel it growing heavy in her chest, but despite this, she might as well have been floating.

She pulled away, head spinning as her hands fell from his face to his shoulders. She held him tightly, eyes still closed before she opened them. A ghost of a smile played on her lips as her next words flew out.

"Marry me, John Murphy."

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a/n

OH SHIT SONNNNOH SHIT SONHI TEAM! Bet you weren't expecting to hear from me again huh

This one has been in the drafts for likely over a year so please forgive me for any errors etc because I did Not properly proof read. Nonetheless, there's Year 3 for you on the ring, shout-out Emori for wingmanning our girl here cause she had #fears about getting back with Murphy (can't blame her, it's been crazy time for them fr)

Throw some marriage in there cause why not it's ABOUT DAMN TIME? IF NOT NOW THEN WHEN?

Appreciate the love n support I still receive even to this day, it's insane n I am extremely grateful. Year 4 will come in due time, team, just bear with me. I had to come back cause this story is literally apart of me n my growing up yk? I'm 20 n still think about this book cause it was something I was so passionate about.

Enough said anyway. I hear you. Give the people the memes.

^ murphy chatting up the wall instead of looking at Sayah

Okay team I fear that's all I got because apparently I don't have many memes on my phone like I used to. My apologies I feel that was very anticlimactic.

I hope you're all well n thriving!Do any of you feel like going to a wedding next chapter tho...👀