Murdoc x Reader

Part 6

Murdoc waved over his shoulder to you as he walked down the sidewalk. It was a long walk back to his house, not that he was all that excited to go home. He hadn’t actually decided yet if he was going to just go home or wander around a bit more. He’ll decide when he gets there. During the walk he had time to think though.

He started working backwards through the afternoon spent with you. First he tried to figure out why it bothered him so much when you started talking down about yourself. Obviously he knows what it feels like to think that way, and it’s not fun. But why did he care how you feel?

‘Maybe I just felt indebted to her for jumping into the scuffle to help me?’ He thought briefly.

‘No, I’d paid that off with the pizza... Maybe it was because she was willing to clean me up?’ Murdoc groaned as he carefully massaged his face in frustration

“I’m too sober for this bullshite…” He finally grumbled out loud.

After about fifteen minutes of walking Murdoc was only a few streets away from his house. He lit a cigarette as he stood in front of a corner market, debating if it was worth going home tonight or not.

‘If I stay out I definitely probably won’t get beat up again. That’d be a plus.’ For a split second he thought maybe getting roughed up some more wouldn’t be so bad if it meant you would dote on him a little more. But before the thought was even fully finished he screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head with a grimace to dismiss the thought.

‘What the hell am I so hung up about?!’ At this point it was just getting aggravating. Thinking for a moment it would be better to stay out, look for his usual suppliers or some drunks who’d get him a bottle or two for a bit of cash.

The more he thought about it though, the more the idea just seemed exhausting. Besides, he had a small trove of alcohol and assorted drugs and paraphernalia hidden in his shoebox of a room that his father and brother have yet to come across. And he could play his guitar, if his dad hasn’t found and pawned it again, that is. Playing his bass was one of the few things that really gave him any sort of peace and happiness. Besides sex, of course.

Finished with his cigarette he dropped the butt on the sidewalk, not bothering to stomp it out, and gave a huff as he headed in the direction of his house. Murdoc still sported a decently intimidating sneer on his face the whole way home. Just because he decided to do it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Murdoc decided to save the task of sorting out whatever thoughts he had about today and meeting you for when he was more ‘relaxed’. So instead he let his mind wander, thinking about the slew of songs he's been trying to write. Which one’s he thought had some potential, and which one’s still needed to be worked on or just scrapped altogether.

As he came to the walkway leading to his house he took a deep breath, preparing for whatever was on the other side of the door. If he was lucky his father, Sebastian, was already gone for the night. Or at least passed out. He didn’t really worry about his brother, Hannibal. As long as Murdoc stayed out of his way, Hannibal was indifferent about his younger brother. Sebastian, on the other hand, would stalk Murdoc around the house looking for any reasons to make the teen more miserable.

Murdoc slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open so it would squeak as little as possible. So far it was quiet, which was odd, usually you can hear Hannibal’s music blaring through the paper thin walls of the house. He must've gone out.

Murdoc discreetly peeked into the living room to find no one there, before doing the same to the kitchen. Still no sign of Sebastian.

The boy took this opportunity to rummage through the kitchen quickly, looking for any forgotten and abandoned liquor bottles he could sneak away with. He near struck gold when he looked under the sink and found an unopened bottle of cheap whiskey. Tucking his treasure out of sight in his jacket he made his way quickly to his room before anyone could spot him.

Safely in his room and with the door shut, Murdoc checked his hoard. He had a fair bit of everything tucked away in there.

He took out a bottle of rum that was just barely a quarter full. He probably won’t get to it tonight, but it’ll make for a nice breakfast. Next he went to his bass, relieved to find it still propped in the back of his small closet along with the folder containing all of his work.

Taking his bass, both bottles, and the folder with him, he flopped down on the bed. Opened the bottle of whiskey and took a few good gulps, making a face at the harshness of the cheap liquor. Making himself comfortable on the bed he strummed thoughtlessly on the guitar, waiting for the alcohol to take hold.

After twenty minutes of sipping on the whiskey Murdoc felt manageable. He sat up and opened the folder next to him, flipping through the different sequences and songs he’s made, waiting for one to grab his attention. But after shuffling through the collection of papers three times he decided he wasn’t in the mood to be productive.

‘I still need to straighten out my head about that girl..’ He leaned back with his base, strumming riffs he memorized long ago, his fingers practically moving on their own. ‘What is it about her? She said outright she’s not interested in sex… she’s not any different than any other bird I’ve met…’ Murdoc furrowed his brows. He hated this. He doesn’t want to deal with ‘feelings’.

'Well, she was actually nice to me. And she wasn't trying to get anything out of it, that’s new. That’s definitely new. And it’s not like she doesn’t know who I am, she said she’d heard rumors. So what’s someone like her doing even talking to me? Let alone jumping into a fight and caring for me….’ Murdoc stopped strumming his bass as soon as that thought crossed his mind.

‘That’s it. Is that it? Is it really that cheap of a reason?’ The teen felt like he had swallowed a brick. ‘She didn’t try and get anything out of me today, but what if this all just an act to set me up for something? Some kind of prank or humiliation?'

You hadn’t given him any reason to doubt your motives, but this had happened before. In grade six. Someone had found out about the little shows Sebastian makes Murdoc put on for his favorite pubs on friday, peddling for cash at the boys' expense.

Jared Morano was the kid who did it. Murdoc is going to remember that name as long as he lives. It was a fairly elaborate plan he put together with his cronies.

Jared had started the whole thing off by spending the lunch hour with Murdoc, even standing out behind the bleachers to smoke together. It went on like thatfor a few weeks, Murdoc remembered how happy it made him to have someone really listen to him and enjoy being around him, despite his family’s reputation and financial state.

Murdoc had gotten so comfortable with Jared that he even mentioned his dad and the shows. It was nice to feel like someone cared about him and what was happening in his life. It was that weekend, when Murdoc was up on the rickety stage in some stupid, glittery, feathered, half-assed drag costume when he saw Jared, along with half their class standing outside the large window in the side of the bar looking at him and laughing. After that, school was unbearable. It seemed like everyone had seen him, and that small handful who didn’t, had been told about it in detail.

The pre-teen had been smoking and stealing cans of beer from the fridge regularly since he was seven, but after that it was a rare occurrence that anyone saw Murdoc sober.

You hadn’t given any sign that you might be up to something, but neither did Jared at first. And Murdoc didn’t know who you hung out with usually, if they were the scheming types or not.

Rooting through those memories just aggravated the quite drunk teen even more. He set his bass against the wall and took the mostly empty whiskey bottle, tipping it up and taking two large gulps. Maybe it was the alcohol thinking it, but there was a part of Murdoc that wanted to risk it. You seemed like too genuine of a person to try and pull something like that. You acted too innocent. Too unsure and awkward for all of this to be some sort of hoax.

At some point during his rambling inner monologue Murdoc's 'pet' raven, Cortez, had flown in through the window and started hopping around the bed. Murdoc gave a heaving sigh, holding a hand out for Cortez to hop onto. He pet the bird gently under his beak as he spoke with slurred words.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Murdoc got an enthusiastic squawk in response.

~1,592 words