Plastic Prison (Gorillaz fanfic) (2D x Murdoc)

Chapter 11

(2D’s POV)

Even though it felt like morning, it was still dark out. My sense of time has completely screwed everything up in my head.

'Breakfast’ was nice. Eggs and juice, nothing special, but still nice.

This is how my days went. Things happened like they did last night, and we pretend it didn’t, or that it was nothing. It’s the only way we can stand each other. The only way we can survive the silence.

His face was static whenever I limped down the hallways. I could try to hide the pain, but what was the point. I wasn't even looking for sympathy anymore, it was just tiring trying to hide the pain he already knew about. That he had caused. I wonder if he was proud of himself. For me it was always kind of endearing seeing my late night flings do the walk of shame home, but I'm not sure if this has the same effect here.

“What?” I heard him grumble from across the room. I had my head resting on the kitchen table, just looking off into empty space. My head didn't hurt this time, but now my lower back did, and I just wanted to rest, just sleep, I haven't slept in so long… Pretend none of this was happening. That I was back at Kong with Noodle and Russel, watching TV and curled up in a blanket on our gross old couch. I loved that couch.

Instead I'm here, holding my knees to my chest and balancing on a stiff wooden chair. Nothing but a shitty radio playing swing filled the silence in the back of the room.

“Oi,” Mudz spoke up again, waving his hand in front of my face when he walked over. I looked up at him, but with the black of my eyes, I don't think he can tell. He ran his hand through my hair, and I didn't stop him. What would be the point. “Hey… ya alright?” His voice was almost soothing, even if it was cold and gravely.

“Why would ya care…” I mumbled. Every now and again, Mudz would get these little glimpses of concern. I wonder if he actually cared, or if I'm just subconsciously making it up for my own sake. I don't know the difference anymore. Was there a difference? Shit.

He said nothing back to me, just walked back to tinkering with his pile of electronics over in the corner. Concern now gone once again. What was he making?

After another few moments of silence, I got the strength to fuel my curiosity, and walked/limped over to the mangled pile of wires Murdoc seemed to hover over. Either he ignored me, or he was to invested in his work to notice me. Either way, the music continued to hum in the background, encouraging him to work, and breaking the silence of the room, though not by much.

“What do ya need, Tusspot.” It wasn't really a question. He sounded bored and unfocused.

“It's just Pot.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Now what is it?” He didn't even look back at me when he spoke, just continued tinkering with the small exoskeletal parts.

“... What is it?”

“What's what?”

“What are you working on… what’s it supposed to be?” He paused for a moment, a flash of emotion ran over his face, but it disappeared before I could tell what it was.

“Don't worry about it,” he spoke again. His voice surprisingly soft and depressed.

(Murdoc's POV)

I don't need the dullard thinking I'm crazy or obsessive. He didn't push the subject any further, but he sat on a chair next to me, watching me work.

He looked almost fascinated by it. The soldering of wires and melting of metal together. The frame for this was coming out nicely, but I didn't know how to get it to move in the ways I needed it to.

Out of nowhere, Stuart just collapse out of his chair, slamming his head on the ground. He didn't make a move to get up.

I quick shut off the equipment and looked at him.

Okay he's breathing… hearts okay…

The bruises on his face looked better, but the bags under his eyes were definitely worse.

“Hey, wake up. Idiot, awaken,” I gently slapped the side if his face. He didn't make a move, or even a noise. He was out cold, unconscious. “Shit.”

I picked him up, bringing him to my room. I could have put him back in the basement, but I had things to work on, things to do, not enough time. I had to prepare before they found me.

How much did the boy weigh? A grown man shouldn't be this light.

I layed him down on a few pillows, his body limp and warm to the touch, and covered him in blankets. His fingers twitched at the motions, and a small mumbled was let out. I signed to myself, glad that he wasn't injured, or had even gone back into comatose. I was almost happy to see him sleeping. Glad he was finally getting some rest.

I know he didn't sleep well. He never did at Kong. The headaches and pain kept him up, and if this didn't the nightmares did. And I'm sure the whale in the basement room didn't help that much.

I'm sure I didn't help it much.

What a friend was I.

I tried to get back to work, but now I was distracted. I put everything back away, shoving things into the cabinets it had been in before. Unorganized and haphazardly placed.

When I went back into my room, I noticed 2D had shifted. The blankets were wrapped tighter around his body, and one of his legs stuck out from the sheets. Just a tuff of his hair stuck out from the top of the wound comforter.

He looked calm, for once. His breathing shallow and even, his head smothered in my mountain of pillows. Silk sheets tightly wound around his body... And I couldn't look anymore. I made a b-line for the attached bathroom. I could fuck him later, but he really needed sleep. I needed sleep. I needed cold water.