Gorillaz One-Shots

Melancholia {2Doc/Studoc}

Murdoc stood in the rain behind a casket, his suit getting wet from rain, the cold drops dripping down his bangs and rolling down his face. His hands ran across the polished wooden lid, which was propped up to show a thin, pale body inside. Murdoc solemnly looked down at it.

A perfect face was splattered now with cold rainwater. It dripped from the tips of that soft blue hair, fell into those smiling grey lips. 2D was dead. And Murdoc's world had died with him.

He looked up to see a small black crowd coming towards the two of them. They only had a few private moments together before the band and all their fans would be upon the scene.

He laid his hand over 2D's bony, cold one. It was only weeks ago that that hand had been clutching an emptied bottle of painkillers. Murdoc never meant to kill him. But he guessed that all the antipathy had worn him down. Now he would never come back.

He had such an urge to kiss those grey lips and to stare into those black eyes that were destined never to open. He wanted to drape himself over 2D's body and sob, apologizing, for hours and hours. He loved 2D. He swore on his life that he did. His biggest mistake was swearing on 2D's.

"How could you do this?"

He hadn't fully snapped out of his haze, and for a while, he thought he'd said it to himself. But he felt cold, hard knuckles against his chest and stumbled back. Noodle was sobbing, mascara running down her face, pummeling his chest and wailing until Russel pulled her back. "H-he was my friend... y-you caused this..."

Murdoc stayed doubled over, catching his breath from Noodle's powerful blows. She sobbed into Russel's arms until Murdoc was able to steady himself and place himself once again behind Stuart's early casket. She was led back into the crowd, and Murdoc silently watched 2D's body splatter with water.

The crowd was soon in an uproar, shouting at Murdoc.

"You monster!"

"Sadist!"

"Murderer!"

A single raindrop ran down Murdoc's cheek, followed by a tear, then another. Still, he stayed staring down at the mouth that would never again smile, the eyes that would never light up with joy, the hands that would never again grasp a microphone and sing with an angel's voice. The heart that would never again beat, and that would never beat for him.

He closed the casket as the grave diggers fought their way through the crowd. He walked home with tears on his face and his hands in his pockets.

The man he loved was dead.