One Bullet (Gorillaz fanfic) (2D x Murdoc)

Chapter 1

(2D's POV)

My hangover made my head scream in pain. I barely made it to the kitchen, stumbling there in an attempt to find where I had last set my painkillers. Murdoc silently walked passed me, bumping into me slightly. I could tell he must have hurt more than I did. I don't remember what happened at the bar last night after the concert, but I'm sure he drank more than me. I heard glass bang together as he pulled out another bottle of beer, causing me to groan in pain at the noise as I swallowed three or four pills. I opened one of the cupboards above me, searching for a small glass for water. I felt a sharp snap against my ass as Murdoc walked passed, mumbling "move," in an angry and annoyed tone. He held the belt he hit me with loosely in his hand, dropping it on the floor before he walked into the bathroom. The loud thud of the metal hitting the ground bringing another sharp pain to my head. I was just glad he haven't hit my head with it like he normally would.

I quietly tapped against the door. "Ey, could I at least brush my teef'?"

"What teeth ya talkin bout faceache?" Murdoc angrily joked from the other side. The door opened for a split second before a toothbrush was thrown at my face. It wasn't even mine, but I really didn't care. My mouth tastes like shit and I needed something to help it. I ended up brushing that teeth I had left in the kitchen sink, using some old mint vodka as mouthwash. It worked well enough.

This shitty apartment we were stuck in sucked. The rooms are too small, the bathrooms are gross and the lights only work in half the rooms. I'm not even sure what the inside of Murdoc's room looks like anymore, he won't replace his broken lights. He claimed he just likes the dark, which is understandable, but I'm sure it's just because he's either lazy or waiting for someone else to do it.

Out of curiosity, I took out my phone and used the flashlight to look inside while he used the toilet. He was so loud, it sounded like pure acid, burning the bowl as it hit it. I shined the light into his room. It looking almost the same as the first (and last) time I saw it, just more trashed.

It smelt like cigarets, sweat, and liquor, along with a few car-air fresheners. It reminded me of his winnebago. Cigarets where burned into the cheap plastic carpeting. Bottles of rum and whiskey littered the floor and the underneath of his bed, barely supported by his frame. Half assed piles of clothes where scattered over each corner of the room, and bottles of pain killers, for hang overs, where spilled by his closet door, which was also over flowing with dirty clothes. The walls not covered in posters where spray painted, one wall was painted like a dart board. The rings of paint had knives thrown at it, all missing the center.

The only thing he saved to give a damn about in his room was his 'El Diablo' bass that laid on his bed.

"The fuck 're ya doin?" Murdoc asked from behind me, seeming more annoyed than angry. I let out a yelp of surprise, jumping as I heard his voice. I was expecting him to hit me again as I turned around to look at him. I wanted to run away, and hopefully get out of a beating, but he blocked my path as we both stood in the doorway.

"No'fing Mudz, just lookin 'round... Why 're ya shirtless?" I asked, only now realizing how oddly good his body was...

"Air conditioner's broken. Get outta my room 'n fix it," he said, more harsh, roughly pushing me out of the way so I slammed into the nearest wall. I walked away as soon as the door slammed shut. Once again locking himself in his own pitch black void.

Grabbing my toothbrush out of the kitchen, I brought it back to the bathroom. This room was trashed too. The sink was covered in vomit and who knows what, Murdoc's red nail polish was spilt on the counter, and I'm not even gonna look at the toilet. I Ali saw the beer Murdoc took this morning still on the counter, unopened and forgotten. I downed it in minutes as I headed to the living room. It was odd he hadn't drank it already...

Lucky Noodle got her own bathroom, while I was forced to share one with a monster like Murdoc. I'm not even gonna think about where Russell goes to take a piss, that guy's huge. Can't even fit his foot through the doorway. Oh well.

I could hear Murdoc playing his bass through the wall. The familiar calming toon of Feel Good Inc. I mumbled the words silently as I walked by his room once again. Stumbling into my room I figured I might as well change. I half asses cleaned my room by shoving everything into the closet as I looked for a clean (enough) shirt. I ended up wearing my old T-virus shirt from the Clint Eastwood video. That was a fun video. I through on some random skinny jeans and wound up throwing myself down on the living room couch, channel searching before eventually just watching some colorful kids show. My half sober mind didn't know or care what I watched, I just needed some random noise to fill the strangely quite house. The clock only read six in the morning. I wasn't sure how I was so awake.

Murdoc's bass was still playing, but now it was a tune I didn't recognize. After seemingly screwing up a few times, he went back to playing one of his own songs. He played the song Five Four out of the speakers as he played along to the bass line. I sang along to the music, half mumbling along to my own voice.

I don't know how Noodle could still sleep through this. Seems like I don't know a lot of things now a days.

(Murdoc's POV)

His voice is like an untouchable gold that slowly slips through my fingers. I could hear his voice thrown the wall, no matter how load I turned up the volume of my music. Even if it wasn't him singing, I could still hear his mumbled voice as he sang along. Why did I have to fall for that lovable idiot. Why for someone I can never have.

I brushed off the ashes from my cigaret off El Diablo as I stopped playing. I left the music on in an attempt to block out the world surrounding me. Even in this darkened I used to mask my depression I could still see my empty bottles of rum. I picked one up off the floor and held it to my lips in an attempt to get out a few more drops. I was a drunken bastard and I knew it.

I actually was sorry for beating up Stew most of the time. I knew he didn't deserve it, he never does anything wrong. I always figured hurting someone else would make myself feel better, but it never really did. It actually made me seem worse. Especially if it was Stewart. I felt terrible for even thinking about him. I didn't want him to be the last thing on my mind as I pulled the trigger, but he was the only good thing I had left in my life. Noodle hated me. So did Russell. I guess Stuart was the only one who still liked me enough, but now, I just can't take it. I turned up the volume of the music so no one would hear the shot. I tried to think of my favorite moments in life and they all seemed to involve him somehow.

I guess I'll let him be my last memory. He was the last thing I cared about, and the last thing I thought about as I brought the gun to my temple...