You Called?

Connection

Warning, of the triggering variety, though I've said it so many times now that I think I shouldn't have to.

-2D POV-

The room was so quiet that the ringing in my ears came back. I'll say it again, silence is my least favorite sound. Finally, Murdoc broke the silence, finally appearing to have collected his thoughts.

"Dents, I know that you doubt yourself and probably doubt in me too, but... we're all we've got. Russ has gone who knows where, Noodle is probably dead, and both of us are stranded on a florescent pink island in the middle of no where. Both of our dads aren't gonna let us back home, and maybe that's a good thing, because we don't want to go back. This situation is far from perfect. We have no friends, family, or fans to keep us on track with life. And we've had more than enough reasons to have already given up on everything. Despite all odds, we're here, with each other. Even if this is all temporary, even if things end up back as they were after we get off this island, I think that we should keep what we have going. Basically what I'm saying is, yes, 2D, there will be a next time. In fact, there will be a next time until we decide that there shouldn't be. And I don't think either of us hated having sex just now. So, i don't think we'll decide to stop any time soon."

"Well now I feel stupid for asking."

"Stupid enough to get wasted and forget that I spent 5 minutes explaining that we're gonna fuck any time if we want to?"

"Well, that's not how I'd segway into asking if we should get drunk, but let's go do it anyway."

We get half dressed, both of us not really bothering to find shirts in the boxes of random shit, and we get in the elevator. I end up holding Murdoc's hand as to not fall, because my limbs are too lanky for my body to have proper balance ever, but especially when I don't have control over the motion. We reach the floor we're supposed to be on, and I head immediately to the couch while Murdoc grabs some drinks from the kitchen.

In my mind, anything will do. Whiskey, beer, bleach; so long as I didn't have to continue to hear this overwhelming silence in my brain. I turn on the tv to distract me, but it just plays back static. I consider trying a different channel, but then decide to just leave it. At least it isn't silent anymore. My mind wanders off into the darker parts, parts that I don't want to believe are still there.

"Well, isn't that a good show. I can see why you like it."

Murdoc broke my train of thought. Not that I was complaining. If he wasn't here, who knows whether or not I would've taken action on some of them. After narrowly avoiding inquiring about knives, I respond.

"Yes, well it's the best channel that's on television for a reason."

Murdoc smiles at my response, but turns down the volume of the tv a little.

"We have some rum, whiskey, and some vodka. We have beers too, but I couldn't carry them over."

He pours me some of... one of them, because I don't really seem to care. I drink it. He must have poured me vodka, because it doesn't match the distinct taste of rum and whiskey, but more like it is burning away the taste that my mouth has.

I was never that tolerant of alcohol, but since Murdoc and I last drank together, I've certainly gotten more used to it. I don't know if Murdoc will really notice, since he's probably gonna be drunk in 5 seconds, being that he can last long, but he is able to drink so much in such a short amount of time that you can consider him a lightweight and you might be right. He passes me the whiskey. I look at him, slightly confused.

"Down it."

And in a moment of desparation to get the voices out of my head, I do.

Author's note:

I have no idea what this chapter was supposed to be. 

(Also, message to my now worried friends, I have never had any alchohol, don't worry. I looked up what vodka tastes like, and aparently it has a burning feeling like mouthwash.)