morbid-rick
MR drags a large machine from the corner to sits his workbench and sits on a stool. “Just chill out, I’ll find your dumb Rick within the hour,” He says, pressing a button that starts the machine with a whirring noise. “Uh, m-make yourself at home wherever. Fridge has cake if you want some.” He sets to work, pressing more buttons and pulling a lever.
"Okay, Rick."
Before leaving the garage, he turned to look at the older man. Rick was turning his back to him and was already focused on his work. The sight was painfully familiar, and Morty felt a lump in his throat. He closed the door of the garage a little harsher than he intended to and walked away quickly.
The house was exactly the same as his, except everything seemed lifeless. Morty went to the bathroom first. In the mirror, his reflection was staring at him, looking pretty much like a stray dog with his tired face and rather dirty clothes. He probably wasn't smelling like roses either. A sigh escaped his lips, and he quickly washed his face and his hands before heading to the kitchen. In the fridge, the cake was a bit dry, like he has been there for a few days already, but his growling stomach seemed happy regardless. He ate slowly, standing in the kitchen, his bag on the floor not too far from him. The sounds of Rick's machine were reassuring in the silence. He took a plate in one of the shelves (the second one next to the fridge -he didn't even think about looking for them anywhere else) and put another piece of cake on it. Then, he took both his backpack and the plate and walked back to the garage. Once there, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside.
"I've brought you a slice of cake if you want."
