eighteen years. there has not been a single person in his life , outside of blood relations , who had ... chosen to spend such a vast amount of time with him. granted , they have not seen each other for all of these years. but the point still stands , doesn't it? stuart had come back. he had come back , and murdoc hadn't made him. he had begged , by the end of it. drunk and phone in hand. gutted in a way he could not process , could never admit to himself now. incomplete. nothing without gorillaz ... but really , nothing without stuart. gone are the days he'd convince himself that 2D needs him , convince 2D that he needs him. it is a disorienting realization , but there is little left of him. there has been little left of him for three years.
stuart had always been the wildcard that could hurt him. and he could not allow that. could not bear the thought of stuart leaving when it wasn't murdoc's fault. when he didn't make him , didn't tell him , didn't force him. but after plastic beach , the card house had crumbled at last. stu had left. everyone had left , and he had nothing but himself and too much time to think and feel absolutely miserable about everything.
no one knows him quite like 2D. he knows everything there is to know , given that he can remember. he knows how murdoc's room had looked , back at the old homestead. because they had needed to practice there , once. he knows almost every sordid detail about his father , and his brother. about the mother murdoc never knew. he knows about his time homeless and what his winnie really means to him. all the silly passions and joys murdoc so jealousy covets and never shares. his fears , and hurts , and doubts , spilled messily when he'd drunk himself silly. which was often. the never ending well of genuine expression in stuart that murdoc is jealous of , enough to want to destroy it. enough to never want it to run dry.
noodle had come back first , and murdoc is eternally grateful that she did. without her , he doesn't think that 2D would have crossed the threshold of wobble street.
his jaw ticks , pinprick sharpness of his eyes cutting into stuart. dissecting him. committing to memory all over again the way his hair spikes up , the tired and guarded concern to sleepy eyes— unfathomable as always. empty , but not really. the nervous twitch of his nose , his lip. how he has to tilt his head back to take him in properly. there is a ... an inner strength to stuart that murdoc doesn't think has been there before. a quiet resolve that might waver , but exists nonetheless. and murdoc feels frozen. all these thoughts jumbling in his head , pissing him off. he doesn't know how to act , doesn't know what to say. a first , really.
@muutos : you could do anything to me and i'd let you. that's the horrible truth of it, really.
words strike him like a fist , sinking red and hot into his neurons only to settle in his stomach like lead. 'of fucking course , dullard.' he wants to say. 'i made you. i can unmake you. you're mine, you'll always be. i'll always be with you, no matter what.' but the words are so loathsome in his mind , so vile in the face of his wavering sobriety , that he feels sick. sick of himself. furious with stuart to suggest the truth. and imply why. imply all the implicit between them. his hands curl into fists , face twisting into a mask of familiar anger.
❝ really? really?! that's what you bloody fucking choose to say to me? idiot— ❞ but there isn't just derision to his tone. there is frustration. the shrill trill of hysteria. closing the gap between them , he pushes stuart , hard enough to make him smack into the doorframe. ❝ is that what you want , huh? is it? fuck you stu. fuck you! ❞ his voice breaks , raw and brittle. clawed hands fisted in 2D's jacket , holding on for dear life more than anything else. something great is building in him , something massive and ugly. jerking uselessly at 2D's clothing , murdoc sinks forward and rams his forehead right into stu's sternum. his scent hits him. laundry that has been sitting too long in a closet. cigarettes , cold air and beneath it all the sweetness of butterscotch. he's silent and still and stiff as a statue , eyes squeezing shut so hard that his head hurts. the tears still come , soaking into stuart's stupid graphic shirt. an ugly sob claws from his throat and murdoc thinks that he really , really wants to die after all. he still doesn't move , unsure whether he wants to throttle stu after all or ....
or what? he isn't sure. but his scent is overwhelming and his skin burns , feeling like he might come apart if he isn't being held together. ❝ i ... ❞ i missed you. never leave again. i need you.
