My first fanfic. ^u^ 2D x Murdoc slashy-ness. (Don't like, don't read!! Simple as that, folks!!)
Rating: M for mild violence, explicit language and sex in later chapters.
The title name came to me when I was listening to 'Fix You' by Coldplay. It reminds me of 2D and Murdoc a lot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gorillaz.
A long, lanky figure crept slowly over to the sizeable window in his flat that overlooked the always-busy streets below. It's large, sunken eyes, which were rimmed with dark circles due to an immense lack of sleep leisurely panned the roads below; the cars rushing by and the endless lines of people crossing from sidewalk to sidewalk. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere. Everyone had somewhere to go; somewhere where they were needed.
The figure remained motionless and unmoved with a vacant stare plastered on it's face. Though, the thoughts that were running through his head were anything but. It was too much. It was too soon. Too sudden. Everything.
It was all far too much for the young man to handle in one afternoon. He continued his vacant gaze out the window for what seem like an eternity, though only a few minutues had passed by. His muscles were tense, his eyes sore from strain as they began to twitch. His hands were shaking.
And somewhere, in the midst of his many thoughts, he could still remember the scratchy, intoxicated, and all too familiar voice … a voice he had wanted to hear for the longest time … that reconnected with him much harder than he had anticipated …
He'd been sleeping. It was an uncomfortable sleep. But that was defiantly not abnormal. He laid solemnly on the pile of tattered blankets, strewn about on his mattress, and worn-down pillows that now sported as his sad excuse for a bed. Suddenly, a sharp ringing tune discontinued his slumber. He shuffled in his sleep, not yet brought back into reality. He stirred a bit as his eyelids slowly fluttered open, and the dimmed colors and unattractive scenery around him came into view. He sat up quickly.
Ouch. A little too quickly. He flinched as his head pounded at the sides. His pain medication had obviously worn off sometime during his restless night. He rubbed his exhausted eyes and ran a hand through his matted cobalt locks. His overly-baggy eyes drooped at the sudden disturbance of his phone. He blinked a few times as he stared at the it; hesitating slightly before outstreching a slender arm across his bed and picking up the phone on his bedside table. He cradled it in his boney fingers and cleared his throat.
No response. At first, all he could hear was static on the other end. Wrong number, maybe? Then, after a few moments, the static finally dissolved, and somewhere in the background on the other line, the young man could just make out the soft sound of seagulls singing in the distance. He sat still for a second, waiting for the caller to reply. The young man sighed heavily and then repeated himself. This time, he got an immediate answer that jolted his senses to a full extent.
"OI! … FACEACHE!"
Astonished, 2D's eyes widened and he almost dropped the phone right into his lap. He recognized the voice instantly. It was a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again. A blank, dumbfounded expression washed over his face and a chill ran down his spine, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was too shocked to let anything escape his velvety lips.
Again, the abrasive voice on the other end called out to him, this time a little harsher in tone.
"'ay! Tusspot! I know yer there, boy. ANWER ME!"
2D regained a bit of composure, straightened up a little, and bit his lip tentatively. He held the phone tighter in his now wobbling hands as he addressed the caller.
"Muds? … Murdoc? … issat … issat you?"
The young man heard a strong, hardy laugh come through on the other end of the line through all the static that started up once again. At the sound of the laughter, 2D's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard laughter like that in what seemed like ages. But it soon subsided, to 2D's dismay, and the man on the other line put his mouth close to the phone; his dry lips gracing it ever so slightly and spoke in an incredibly eerie tone towards the youth.
"No, this is the jolly ol' queen 'o England …" Murdoc replied, with sarcasm dripping from his lips. He let out another good, raspy laugh before he went on, "Oh Stu … it's been so ... so long, hasn't it? Yeh?" Murdoc paused, letting out a long sigh, which made another wave of chills dash down 2D's spine. "Mmm … much, much too long. I tell you wot … I had quite a difficult time trackin' you down, you blue haired sonofabitch. But I finally found yeh!"
2D shuffled where he sat, feeling a tad uncomfortable under the older man's unsettling manner. He reached a shivering hand up and brushed a stray piece of bright azure hair behind his ear.
"M-Muds … I …" Stu began, but he stopped suddenly, taking into realization the lump that was rapidly forming in his throat. He swallowed it down and took a deep breath before he continued, gripping the sheets of his bed. "Oh my god … I can't believe it's you, mate. I jus' …" Stu had to pause again, this time not only to attempt swallowing the lump that was still growing bigger in his throat by the second, but to blink away tears that were on the brink of release. He felt his bottom lip start to quiver.
Murdoc stood by on the receiving end, taking note of the singer's condition without delay. He snickered and let a low chuckle escape, remembering how touchy the singer actually was.
"Now, now, Stu-Pot. We'll have none of that. No, no. No tears," Murdoc urged, not wanting 2D to become over-emotional. Yes, Murdoc understood that he and his friend hadn't seen nor heard from each other in almost two and a half years, but this wasn't a very appropriate time or place for 2D to have a breakdown. Plus, the Satanist knew that if 2D started crying, then he'd most likely end up in the same sorry shape. And he simply would not let that happen, by any means.
2D's voice trembled as he answered the older man, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he'd already gotten so emotional so fast. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes sheepishly, silently kicking himself for being so damn sensitive. He straightened himself upright, having regained some of his sanity.
"I … ehh … I'm sorry, Muds. I really am. It's jus' … you're … you're right. It's been way too long. Nearly free years … and we haven't talked or nuffin'!" 2D couldn't help it when his voice started cracking inadvertently.
"I know. I … I know. But we all needed a break. You know we did," Murdoc replied awkwardly, trying to stay focused while reassuring his dimwitted friend. There was so much the boy didn't know …
Murdoc did not want this conversation to become more emotional then needed. He would save all the talking and explaining for later on. He had to make his point. "It just ... ended up being a much longer break then we all intended it to be …"
2D nodded, mutely agreeing with the bass player, though, up until that then, 2D didn't think he and his cherished bandmates would see the likes of one another ever again. 2D had always tried with every fiber in his frial body to push those kinds of terrible thoughts out of his mind. It was thoughts like those that would ultimately add to the depth of his aching depressions.
"Look, 2D. I'm jus' gonna make my goddamn point. I need that brilliant voice of yours. We're gonna make a new album."
Suddenly, a massive wave of relief and utter stimulation ran through 2D's veins. It was finally time. They would all be reunited again … "New album?" he asked the bassist, his attitude changing quickly.
Murdoc stifled another chuckle at 2D. "Yeah. It's gonna be absolutely fantastic, mate. I've already got some demos fer ya to listen to … an' … been startin' to write down a few lyrics too," Murdoc stopped, his voice getting noticeably quieter, " … I jus' need you 'ere, 'o course. Can't do this thing without yeh, 'D."
2D smiled to himself as the excitement of rejoining with his beloved bandmates continued to grow rapidly. "Hell no, you can't," he joked innocuously, "So … when exactly do ya want me at Kong?"
A austere, unwelcome silence invaded the conversation, which 2D hadn't expected. A muffled noise came from the other line, barely even a whisper.
" … Kong …"
2D's eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Yeh, Muds … Kong. When do ya want me there? Cause I could jus' pack up me fings now an--"
"Kong's gone, 2D."
Again, an awkward, rather undesirable silence draped itself over the discussion between the two. The only thing 2D could hear was the incessant calls of the gulls in the far distance and Murdoc's quiet, unsteady breathing, and even that was hardly audible. 2D's mind, meanwhile, was reeling with all the possible meanings of what Murdoc could have meant. Honestly, 2d didn't want to know. But words unrelentingly fled from his lips anyway.
"G-gone? … Wot d'you mean 'gone'?"
Murdoc cleared his throat and grunted, "That's just wot I mean, dullard. You deaf or somethin'?" he spat at the other man. He waited patiently for 2D to answer, but when he got no reply, the bassist growled and tried to get through to the youth with another approach. "Ehh … well, you know 'ow Kong was like, infested with all those goddamn zombies … right?"
2D mumbled something indistinct before he retorted; his voice cracking again terribly. "Yeah, I do," he shuffled nervously on his bed.
"Well, it started gettin' to the point where they were comin' 'round every corner. Jus' … everywhere. I always had to carry a rifle on my person in case one of the ugly buggers tried to make a meal outta me," Murdoc's tone started getting conspicuously louder as he spoke, "And, after a while, the whole building jus' … fell apart …"
2D's jaw hung wide open as he tried to take in all the new information, "Wot? Fell apart?! H-how?" His eyes narrowed in bewilderment and notion, "Didn't you take care of it?"
"Wot the 'ell wos I supposed to do, 2D!? I wos the only one at Kong! It wos too much!"
2D bit his lip, "Wull … you could've at least tried …"
Murdoc growled and yelled defensively into the phone as his blood pressure began to rise, "I did try! I tried to patch up the cracks in the walls an' the ceiling but it all fell apart anyway! I didn't know what else to do!" His breathing was heavy when he paused. Some static went in and out of the phone lines, but it only lasted a couple of seconds. The Satanist waited for 2D to answer him, but there was nothing. Murdoc suspected that the singer was taken aback. The bass player spoke in a calmer tone, " … Kong was gonna fall apart at some point or another anyway, Stuart … even when all four of us were livin' there … the cracks started appearin' and more and more zombies were poppin' up … it was jus' too much. Kong was too old to hold up any longer. And, when the life inside Kong began to dwindle … I guess it jus' 'ad nothing left to support itself with …"
Again, Murdoc paused and awaited a response from the singer. A few moments passed by as the information sunk into 2D's fragile mind.
"So … erm … wot'd you do wif Kong, then, Muds?"
"Mmm … I put that piece of junk up fer sale and waited for some bloke to take it off our hands."
2D nodded his head somberly, his eyes half-lidded. He never remembered talking to Murdoc or any of the other Gorillaz members about Kong, even when it had officially gone up for sale. The singer recalled the many months beforehand when he had, for the first time in ages, gone to the Gorillaz website to see how things were holding up. He'd remembered seeing the 'For Sale' sign and all the crossing tape around the property. He'd tried going inside Kong, but the site wasn't allowing anybody in. At first, he freaked out. He tried calling Kong Studios, to see if he could get ahold of Murdoc, but no one ever answered. He tired every day for months and months, but still, nothing. 2D tried getting any contact possible with Murdoc, but he never answered back. Soon, the line was suddenly disconnected and Stuart had eventually given up. He would check the site occasionally, to see if anybody actually bought their acclaimed studio. Nope. That 'For Sale' sign was still up whenever he went on, which didn't exactly surprise him.
"Oh yeh … I do remember summingk about all dat … anybody eva buy it?" 2D asked openly, though in the back of his head he knew the answer would be 'no'. Kong Studios was a clubhouse for the undead, and it had started rotting from the inside out when he was last there. Moldy, blood-splattered walls, barely any lighting, and there were forlorn, decomposing corpses sprawled across the floors. Now who in their right mind would dare to purchase that? 'Heh … Guess we did.' Stu thought to himself.
"Are you kiddin' me? Of course not. It was a horribly haunted, miserable heap of garbage pilled on top a cruddy landfill, for Christ sake! A real load of shit, it was. Nothin' like it used to be …" Murdoc snapped back at 2D, "I knew from the start that nobody would buy it. I dunno why tha Hell I put it up for retail to begin with. It wos a pointless endeavor, really."
A couple minutes passed by, a chance for 2D to really take in all the information that Murdoc was throwing at him. Murdoc waited patiently, though he really did want to talk more about their forthcoming album. 2D was the first to revive the conversation.
"So, uhh, if no one bought Kong, wot didja end up doin' wiffit?"
Murdoc hesitated a long while before he answered, which frightened 2D.
"I ehh … burned it down …" Murdoc mustered, as the words escaping his lips singed his insides and scorched his tongue.
Shocked beyond belief, 2D had to quickly clamp a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming. Without warning, tears welled in the corners of his widened eyes and they soon came streaming down his face before he had a chance to wipe them away. He choked and stifled as he tried to hold back his cries as best he could.
On the other line, Murdoc was silent, which 2D clearly hadn't noticed. He listened attentively to the singer's subdued cries and whimpers that were muffled by his hand. Murdoc felt something, something subtle, prod at his entrails. Guilt, maybe? Regret? No. These were things that Mr. Murdoc Niccals did not feel. For anything, or anyone.
Minutes bypassed, and soon, the keyboardest's sobs settled. He sniffled a few times and finally wiped his stinging eyes.
"M-Murdoc … why … how couldja do dat?!" 2D yelled directly into the receiver at the older man, the sides of his head beginning to tingle.
2D heard Murdoc let out something that sounded like a combination of a bark and a low, deep growl, "FUCK! You dimwitted IDIOT! Didn't you hear a single word I just SAID?! The fuckin' thing was 'bout ready to fall right on top of me! I 'ad no choice! I 'ad to light the place!"
"No you didn't, Murdoc!" 2D yelled back, feeling his own blood pressure begin to rise. He felt new tears form and he abruptly lowered his voice to stop it from cracking, " … My god, Muds … that was our home! Kong was our home! You fuckin' burned down our home, Murdoc!"
"Listen here, BOY. I didn't --"
"No, Murdoc! YOU listen! Jus' listen! That 'miserable heap of garbage' wos our home! No matta wot you call it, no matta wot horrific, repulsive fings happened to Kong, it wos still our home, damnit!" 2D silenced a moment to catch his breath, and waited for Murdoc to shout back at him. When there was no answer, he courageously continued, "I can't believe you. You didn't even call or nuffink! Neva! Not once, Murdoc!" His eyes narrowed angrily, "Do you even know 'ow many times I tried callin' you?" Still no asnwer. "EVERY FUCKIN' DAY, MURDOC! UNTIL THE LINE WAS FUCKIN' DISCONNECTED! Guess dat wos when yeh finally decided to destory the place, eh? You didn't even botha to pick tha phone up, you tosser …" 2D's voice suddenly lowered, "It wasn't jus' YOUR place, you know. It was mine, and Noodle's, and Russ's, too."
At the sudden mention of the other bandmates' names, Murdoc's stomach churned. His blood was boiling, but he knew that at this point, yelling back wouldn't help the matter any. He knew that this whole argument was going to take place from the moment he dialed 2D's number. 2D needed to release his steam, so the Satanist kept quiet allowed the boy to speak.
"We grew up in dat place, Murdoc … it …" he stopped a second, as the tears he attempted to hold in ran down his cheek and converged at his chin, " … it wos … our home. Kong … it defined our image. It made us who we were ... it made us Gorillaz."
For moments, there was only breathing, gulls, faint static and silence.
2D didn't like it.
"M-Muds? … Why ain't you yellin' at me?" 2D questioned aloud, wondering if the bassist was still in tact with him on the receiving line.
"Murdoc?" he repeated, this time with a slight hint of anxiety in his tone. He held the phone closer up against his ear, praying that the bass player would just answer him already.
2D let out a sigh of relief, "Oh. Thought you 'ung up on me …" he quieted down a second, as his equanimity slowly began to come back. His breathing was strung-out and lengthy and when he reached a hand up to smear away the new tears, his reddened, damp face stung at the gentle touch, "Why … ain't you yellin' at me or nuffink?"
Murdoc giggled bleakly at the younger man's hasty attitude change. 'Mmm. That's jus' like Stu. One minute he's goin' off tha handle, the next he's a sorry, sappy sad-sack. Wotta twat.'
"2D, I knew you'd get … upset … over all this. I guess I … understand where you're comin' from an' all," he lulled a few moments, thinking hard about what he was about to say to the keyboardist, "You needed to get ridda all that bottled anger."
2D bit his lip.
In the midst of the discomfited hush, 2D idly fiddled with the hem of his gray blanket, adorned tenderly over his criss-crossed legs. "So, Muds … umm … if you're not at … Kong … den … where yeh at now?" he inquired.
On the other end, the Satanist pushed all his angered, culpable, and repentant feelings aside. Though 2D couldn't see Murdoc, he could tell the mood had been lightened a great deal. "Oh, Stu. I know yer gonna fuckin' love this new place. It's absolutely lovely. We got an … incredible view of the ocean and … it certainly smells a trifle more pleasant than Kong did …"
2D couldn't help but giggle at the bass player's blissful tone, "Wot? You livin' at the beach now?"
"Ehh … nope! Even better, mate! I got us our very own private island!"
At this unforeseen remark, 2D's stomach did a back flip and he could literally feel his face drain in color from pale to paler. 'Oh, no. 'e can't be serious.' he thought.
"Are you … uhh … serious?"
"Yeah! It's grand, it is ..." Murdoc chuckled deep in his throat, and spoke again in that unnatural, yet downright seductive tone of voice that sent prickles over 2D's arms and legs, "Our very own private, floatin' BEACH! PLASTIC BEACH! Mmm … Point Nemo …"
"Point … Point Nemo"?
Murdoc laughed loudly before he responded to the younger man's stuttering remark, "Ahh yes. Point Nemo. Mhmm. The furthest, most remote location from all civilization on the entire planet."
2D swallowed his terror quietly, trying to search for words. He removed his vacant stare from his quilt below him to the ceiling of his bedroom flat and closed his eyes, freash tears nipping at his eyes.
"Murdoc, I can' go."
There was a succinct moment of silence, as a very stunned Murdoc took in what the youth had just stammered through the phone.
"WOT?!" Murdoc screamed, making 2D yank the phone away from his ear, and leaving an awfully bothersome ringing sensation in return. Carefully not to damage his ear any further, 2D cautiously brought the phone up to his face again, and tried to reason with Murdoc.
"I … like … I wanna go, Muds … I do. But … I can't," 2D faltered in a hushed tone, not wanting to make the Satanist any angrier.
Murdoc took a lengthy, deep breath while he mentally adjusted his thoughts. 'Keep yer cool, Murdoc. Everything's gonna go as planned. Just as you planned it.'
"Why the fuck not, Stu-Pot."
"Wull … ehhm … I … the ocean … it jus' … scares me," 2D whispered, his voice breaking.
Murdoc laughed heartily at the boy's response. "Yer fuckin' scared of the ocean, mate?"
2D winced. He didn't want to really tell Murdoc about his Cetaphobia. He never really told anybody. And he was sure that if Murdoc ever found out about this fear, he'd never let him live it down. But, once again, 2D found himself rambling on anyways, further ignoring his inner voices.
"Ermm … yeah. It freaks me out. Jus' … bein' out there in tha middle of nowheres …" 2D shivered, while thoughts of sea-sickness and the awful smell of saltwater engulfed him. He wasn't exactly telling Murdoc the full truth, he didn't think that was the best idea, but he was telling him just enough.
"Oh. Issat so? Well, 'at's quiate a shame, Stu, 'at ye don't fancy tha ocean much," Murdoc started, with a false tone of concern remaining blunt in his voice, "But, yer gonna 'afta suck it up anyways."
2D frowned, "I … didn't you 'ear a word I jus'--"
Murdoc quickly cut 2D off in mid-sentence, "Oh yeah. I 'eard ya. Crystal clear. But 2D, mate, I'm afraid you don' 'ave much of a choice in the matter, really."
2D wrinkled his nose up in both confusion and mild disgust at the bassist's lack of apprehension and sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again by Murdoc, who somehow sensed the singer trying to defend himself. His voice was low, candid, and terribly sinister. It rattled 2D completely from the inside out.
"Because I've already made up my mind, see? You will be coming to Plastic Beach, dullard." he paused, only to let in a soft chuckle, "Whether you like it or not."
And then, Murdoc hung up.
2D's eyes enlarged until they were the size of dinner plates. He sat stone still for what seemed like forever, not wanting to process thought. He just sat there, with the warm, sweat-covered phone still attached firmly in his grasp, pressed hard against his ear. And the keyboardist waited. He waited for the singing of the gulls. He waited for the sound of waves. He waited for the static.
He waited for Murdoc.
But there was nothing.
2D opened his eyes from his dream-like recollection and caught sight of the window before him; the busy townsfolk, the buildings and factories spewing nasty black smog came into view again. The depression washed over him once more after remembering his conversation with the bassist.
After Murdoc had hung up, 2D realized then and there that there was no way he was going to be able to call him back. But he really didn't want to believe that. He didn't have caller ID, or anything that would allow him to trace the restricted call. He'd gotten mad. Really mad. He'd ended up screaming, and pleading for the bassist to call him again.
It was worse than all the other times when he found himself becoming vulnerable to his depression, as it worsened with each passing day. He'd punch pillows, kick at his walls, and do as much as he could to release his bottled fury on the material objects he considered useless surrounding his room. And occasionally, he took out the blinding rage and painful depression out on himself. Whether it be with his flick knife, shattered glass from broken furniture … anything that would make the lonely feeling and the pain go away. Anything to make himself feel better again.
Because when you're alone for too long, in such an enclosed environment, you go insane. And his pills just didn't seem to do enough for him. He yearned for someone to talk to and a presence to grasp. But 2D had no where to go. He'd figured he wasn't needed anywhere.
2D shook himself out of his utterly disheartening thoughts and suddenly realized his entire body was shaking violently. He felt his face get hot and a familiar wetness dulled his vision. 'God … wot am I gunna do? I wanna see Muds again. Real bad. But … I'm so afraid …'
He was about to make his way back to his bed, only to rest his tired essence, but he suddenly smelled something peculiar in the air around his bedroom. It was a reallydisgusting smell. Like, some sort of tainted poison or something. It numbed his scenes instantly. 2D saw a grey-ish fog swallow him up and something was going wrong with his vision. It wasn't his tears this time. The world around him was spinning and it was making him dizzy. Colors mixed and he was seeing double. He couldn't move, though he didn't try. He couldn't administer anything. His eyelids gradually began to close, and he started staggering back and forth. He felt himself falling forward, but he couldn't do a thing to stop it.
The last thing he heard was the sound of breaking glass.
And from there, everything went black.
Author's Commets: Yep! So ... more to come, of course. This was a waaay long prologue ... DX