The Truth Will Set You Free

2K 60 37
                                    


Authors note: I'm pretty much shitting out the beginning of this chapter. I'm trying so hard to make it work, but it's coming out a little more choppy than I want it to be. I'm not good at making Rick an asshole. Halfway through I start to make it better though, so just bare with me. I hope you guys like how long I made this chapter. Also, HOLY SHIT, THANKS FOR SEVEN HUNDRED READS!!

Morty frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Here he was, dressed in a yellow dress shirt, slacks, and shoes, while simultaneously leaning against one crutch.

Him and Rick were in the men's shower room, and Rick was still getting dressed in a stall, while Morty was in front of the sinks glaring at himself in the mirror. He felt over-dressed for some reason. A few days ago he was on Earth, uselessly wasting away, only to be taken from his family, and tortured for information. He had been a bloodied pulp of guts and blood, and now here he was; In freaking dress clothes, preparing to go to a meeting. (He also had a tie in his hands, but he had no fucking clue how to put it on.)

How much of a contrast is that? Morty could hardly believe that all this happened in the short span of a few days.

He was still weak from everything that happened. If he didn't have his crutch to support him right now he probably wouldn't be able to stand at all. While he took a shower he had to hold on to the safety bar in order to stay up. His legs were shaky, his strength and stamina had plummeted, and if he moved too quickly or twisted too awkwardly pain would radiate from his chest.

It must have been the first time he'd showered in days, actually. And it felt great despite how much of a challenge it was to do everything while also holding on to the safety bar. Victoria told him that he was still very physically weak because his body had been put under so much stress and strain, but he'd recover within the next week.

Morty's hair was still damp from the shower, but he'd combed through it with his fingers, so hopefully it would be at least a little neat once it dries.

A few stalls down from where Morty had changed, Rick kicked open the door, and made his way over to the sinks as well. His outfit was more grown-up looking, which was understandable, considering he's an adult and Morty's just a teenager. But he couldn't help but feel slightly patronized. Rick had a black blazer over a white dress shirt, and a tie.

"Looking sharp, Mort." Rick commented, looking at himself in with mirror with a board expression. It kind of looked like he just threw his outfit on. The dress shirt wasn't even fully tucked in, his tie was all crooked and loose, and his shoes weren't even tied.

"Geez, Rick, y-you aren't going to go in looking like that, are you?" Morty asked, catching Rick's eyes through the mirror.

"Like what, Morty?" Rick scowled back at him.

Morty gave him a look that practically screamed, 'Really??' "Y-you look like you just left a bar after a long day, Rick. Y-you don't smell like it, but you look the part."

"S-says the one wearing children's clothes." Rick muttered in response, turning to look at Morty instead of his reflection.

"Hey! I didn't pick this out!" Morty defended, turning awkwardly on his crutch to meet Rick's eyes. "Victoria is t-the one who bought it! You can't blame me for that!"

Rick chuckled, turning back to the mirror. He began to straighten himself up, starting with his tie. "Y-yeah, yeah, I got it. I was joking Morty, you don't look childish." He smirked. "You actually look kinda g-grown up, er, whatever."

A Drop of RainWhere stories live. Discover now