The 100 imagines and preferences

John Murphy Imagine

"It's over."

Murphy's words were heavy, almost knocking you back with their weight. His eyes didn't meet yours, just drifted along the ground. His mouth was held in a tight line, but you had dated Murphy long enough to be able to read his poker face. There was pain behind his eyes.

"Slow down a second, John." You pleaded. "What the hell is going on?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He spat, venom in his voice. "I'm leaving."

This was all wrong. He was so cold, so distant. His heart and mind, once so openly offered up to you for your exploration and gentle care, were blocked off by a mask he wore like armor. You grabbed his shoulder, stopping him as he tried to turn away and fulfill his words.

"You don't have to go. Things might seem bad right now but we can figure something out. Together, just like we-"

"I don't love you anymore! Can't you get that in your head?"

He tore away from you, headed for the treeline while you were still too shocked and broken to try to stop him. The world seemed to shatter around you, blurred by your tears, and the grief bound around your chest and squeezed the breath from your lungs.

You weren't quite sure of anything in that moment, but you could have sworn you saw tears sliding silently down his cheeks as he left, taking your heart with him.