Wait and Bleed

Wait and Bleed

One year.

Murdoc%u2019s lips wrapped themselves around the mouth of the bottle of lager, and he took a long pull of the cool liquid, which did nothing to soothe his nerves. When he moved to place the bottle back on the table beside him, he discovered that his entire arm was shaking.

Three hundred and sixty-five goddamned days.

Sitting back in his chair, he couldn%u2019t still the shaking. It was traveling from his hand to his arm, and up and down his entire sleep-deprived body, until it was nerve-wracking just to be sitting down. %u201CIt%u2019s low blood sugar%u2026%u201D he tried to convince himself aloud. Feeling the need to move, he stood up, the stuffy air of the Winnebago making his head spin.

Murdoc moved into the bedroom, lowering himself down onto the purple silk of the sheets, where he stretched out, feeling none of the comfort and relaxation that the pose would suggest. It had been here. In this very spot, on these filthy silken sheets. 365 days and God, the first steps of what would lead to this hell had been carried out.

It had been his fault entirely.

The grimy ceiling of the Winnebago was where his eyes stared blankly now as he did his best to focus on his surroundings rather than his thoughts. The night was quiet around him. The others had long since gone to bed, leaving him alone in the vast confines of Kong Studios with a bottle full of alcohol and a head full of bad memories. He wondered if they were asleep, or if the horrors of what today%u2019s anniversary was of kept them awake as well. Noodle had not been her usual cheerful self today, and Russel had spoken considerably less than normal. They had all avoided making contact. They had avoided bringing up the subject. No one spoke of it. Maybe it was better that way. And now they were off wrapped in their own individual silences, and there was no chance of speaking to them about it tonight.

Murdoc rolled onto his stomach and inched forward until the handle of one of the small cupboards beside the bed was within reach, and when it was open, he reached inside for the only thing that inhabited its dusty interior; a small bag. When his fumbling hand found it, he pulled it out and dropped it onto the bed before him as though he were afraid to touch it more than necessary. At first glance, it was nothing special; an ordinary bag, made of brown paper, with an ominous smudge on the side. But the bag held more of what was left of Murdoc than he liked to admit. Keeping his vision trained on that small bag, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to that night%u2026.

XXX

It had been a quiet night, much like this one. It was mid-July, always an eventful time for the band. It seemed things always sped up come summer. Things were going at their normal breakneck pace%u2026 publicity shots, interviews, promotional events for Demon Days, general insanity. It had been amongst the delicious time of renewed fame that the lives of the fabulous Gorillaz had been altered forever. On that night one year ago, Murdoc had been lying in the Winnebago and staring at the ceiling as he did now, and, as much as he had wanted to deny it, his mind had been wracked with guilt. And it was for one simple reason%u2026

He had fucked 2D.

It wasn%u2019t even the sex that had bothered Murdoc. It wasn%u2019t as though it wasn%u2019t a routine part of his life. And it wasn%u2019t even the fact that it had been with 2D that had caused the problem. It was the way Murdoc had chosen to handle the situation afterward. He had to admit, he hadn%u2019t been thinking much at the time. The opportunity had arisen, and without much hesitation from either of them, it had been taken. They%u2019d been celebrating a particularly successful concert, in Murdoc%u2019s favorite fashion: high spirits, confident banter, and plenty of alcohol. It had started out normally, and ended up with their lips on each other%u2019s mouths rather on those of the bottles. Maybe it had simply been too much alcohol, or maybe there was something in the air, but either way, it had happened. There was no reversing it.

Afterward, as they lay on those sheets in silence, neither able to come up with a reasonable excuse for what had happened, something had come out of 2D%u2019s mouth that made Murdoc%u2019s blood run cold. He had turned his head, hollow eyes focused on Murdoc in a more intense way than normal, his mouth twisted into an odd expression of thoughtfulness. His pale hand had carefully cupped the bassist%u2018s cheek, staring into his mismatched eyes with intense focus. %u201CI love you, Murdoc.%u201D he said it in such a matter-of-fact way that it didn%u2019t register in Murdoc%u2019s mind for a moment. And when it clicked, he was overwhelmed by fear.

And so he had laughed. He%u2019d paid no attention to the pain that flickered over his younger companion%u2019s face as he did. He didn%u2019t care, all he wanted was for the awkward subject of the emotion to be dropped. %u201CSure Stu,%u201D he had said, and then chuckled in a very fake way, as though he didn%u2019t really believe him. Murdoc made no mention of his own feelings. He knew Stuart was serious. And he knew that honestly, somewhere deep down, he returned his feelings. This was far too awkward for comfort. He laughed it off like he was as heartless as he routinely acted toward the singer, and turned away from him, pulling the silk sheets up to his naked waist.

It was a few minutes before he heard Stuart shift, heard him dressing, and then heard him leave, without so much as a word. The Winnebago door slammed shut, and the sound reverberated through Murdoc%u2019s overwhelmed skull. He could still feel the pissed-off vibes that had radiated from the retreating man%u2019s back even when he was probably half way back to the basement. Murdoc had ridiculed and physically abused 2D since they had first met, but something told him he had gone a bit far with this. And he really couldn%u2019t see a way to mend it now.

And then it was three days later, and he was still overpowered with guilt as he lay in the darkness of the Winnebago, fighting back thoughts and emotions, trying to kill anything that rose up inside with harsh mental snaps at himself until he was left internally exhausted, lying silently in the dark and listening to the sound of silence. His own silence, the silence of the rest of the house, the silence of a young singer somewhere on the basement level of Kong, probably still agonizing over what had happened. This provoked a fresh surge of guilt, which he fought to extinguish, but soon surrendered and let it curl up for a nap in his belly, a cold and merciless hand wrenching his gut. The quiet pressed in upon his ears, strangling him.

Until the silence was broken.

It sounded like thunder at first, one single, loud noise blasting, muffled, though the house, coming from somewhere in the far reaches of the basement. Murdoc lay, frozen, wondering if he was the only one who heard it. He knew that Noodle was an extremely heavy sleeper, and Russel was usually still up at this hour, but had his headphones blasting. 2D was the only possible ally he could have in this, and so, with much reluctance, Murdoc dragged himself up from the bed, out of the Winnie, and headed across the carpark. In the lift, a very bad feeling began to settle itself in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn%u2019t guilt or nausea, it was something nameless.

The basement was always considerably colder than the rest of the huge house, and it took a moment to get accustomed to as Murdoc trekked toward his bandmate%u2019s room. The door was closed when he reached it, and he knocked loudly, attempting to act as casually as possible. %u201COy, faceache!%u201D He called out, rapping once more when there was no answer. %u201CDid you hear that bloody racket?%u201D Silence met his ears. He tried the knob, but the door was locked. He knocked a few more times, and when there was no answer, he became increasingly annoyed. Murdoc%u2019s rage was taken out on the door, kicking it repeatedly until it finally burst open. He strode into the room, and the smell of incense mingled with blood hit his nostrils.

2D was slumped against the wall on his bed, head resting on his shoulder. A large splattering of blood decorated the wall behind him, and more was winding its way down his face. The crimson of the blood stood out vividly against his pale skin and the otherwise spotless wall. 2D%u2019s smooth forehead was marred by one small hole. A bullet hole. That much was obvious, given the fact that the gun rested beside him on the orange sheets, gleaming innocently in the light of the room.

%u201CMother of fuck!%u201D was all that Murdoc managed to get past his lips. He took quick strides to the bed, rapidly beating heart slamming against his ribs as though it were punishing him. %u2019He can%u2019t be dead%u2019. When he reached the vocalist%u2019s side, he wasn%u2019t exactly sure what the best course of action would be. He stood dumbly, tongue large and furry in his dry mouth. He found himself gasping for breath through his growing dread. %u201CHey, Stu!%u201D he touched the singer%u2019s shoulder lightly, though knowing it was probably useless. %u201CStuart!%u201D Murdoc was becoming hysterical now. He was surprised when he received a weak whimper in reply. So he was still alive? Murdoc climbed onto the bed beside his bandmate, careful not to jostle him too much. %u201CWhat the hell did you do, Stu?%u201D it was obvious, but he was helpless to hold the words back.

%u201CBlasted%u2026a hole%u2026through my head,%u201D 2D said, sounding strangely out of breath. Murdoc%u2019s hands found 2D%u2019s shoulders, squeezing them in a gesture of desperation.

%u201CThis isn%u2019t about what happened with us%u2026%u201D Murdoc was trying to keep his voice under control.

%u201CNo%u2026it%u2019s more than%u2026 that. I%u2019m not that%u2026 stupid,%u201D 2D explained weakly. Murdoc lifted one hand and used it to lift Stuart%u2019s head from his bloodstained shoulder so he could look him straight in the face. The singer was weak, and his head moved unresistingly where Murdoc wanted it, and so it stopped to rest on Murdoc%u2019s shoulder. %u201CThat was just%u2026the last straw.%u201D

%u201CBloody hell, Stu.%u201D Murdoc was shaking uncontrollably now. %u201CWhy the fuck would you%u2026%u201D he moved forward, pulling his singer into his lap in one almost subconscious motion. Now that 2D rested against him, Murdoc could feel how much he was shivering. This was not looking good. He was hit with the cold realization that 2D was probably not going to make it out of this. Wiping some blood from the younger man%u2019s face with his sleeve, Murdoc choked back the strange tickle in his throat. %u201CYou%u2019ll be alright, Stu. We just need to get you to a hospital%u2026%u201D

%u201CToo late for that,%u201D 2D lisped, opening his half-closed eyes fully to look up at his older companion. %u201CSorry, Muds. Too%u2026late.%u201D he was sounding weaker by the second, and Murdoc was getting desperate. They had to get him out of here. He had missed his brain, obviously, but if he lost much more blood, he wasn%u2019t going to survive. Some part of him knew that there was no time left to save him, but the rest wanted to believe that there was something he could do.

%u201CGod, 2D, don%u2019t tell me you%u2019re going to die..%u201D Murdoc stammered. 2D%u2019s hollow eyes were staring back up at him, a troubled expression on his pale face.

%u201CDidn%u2019t mean to cause%u2026trouble.%u201D 2D was starting to lose focus on Murdoc, looking somewhere past his head. Murdoc shook him.

%u201C2D, snap out of it! Stay with me.%u201D his voice pleaded. %u201CJust stay here, please. Don%u2019t die on me.%u201D

%u201CSorry%u2026%u201D Murdoc could barely hear it. %u201CBut I do%u2026 love you.%u201D

And that was when it happened. Tears. They rolled down Murdoc%u2019s face and pooled at the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his shirt, making wet spots in the gray fabric. %u201CSatan, I didn%u2019t mean what I said before, Stu.%u201D he wasn%u2019t sure how to put it. %u201CI%u2026you know I love you. You%u2019ve always known I have, haven%u2019t you?%u201D he was starting to lose control of his voice now. Head reached down, lips brushed 2D%u2019s forehead, hand stroked absently under his chin. %u201CYou%u2019re not going to die without knowing that.%u201D he kept his normally gruff voice as gentle as he could. And shit, he was still crying.

%u201CI know%u2026you%u2026do.%u201D 2D was having more trouble talking now. Every word for him was obviously becoming a struggle. %u201CNo matter%u2026what you%u2019ve%u2026always said.%u201D Murdoc gathered himself a bit, managing to stop from going completely hysterical. He sat still and quiet, wrapping his arms loosely around the rapidly fading vocalist and watching him stare straight back at him.

%u201CClose your eyes, Stu,%u201D he whispered, stroking his blood-matted blue hair. %u201CIt%u2019s just a dream, just a dream.%u201D 2D obediently closed his eyes, nuzzling his companion%u2019s shoulder weakly. %u201CYou%u2019re just going to sleep. That%u2019s all.%u201D this desire to comfort him was new and strange, but the words flew from his mouth without his consent, anyway. %u201CDon%u2019t be afraid.%u201D

%u201CGoodnight%u2026.Muds%u2026%u201D it was a bleary whisper, and then it was gone. 2D%u2019s ragged breathing continued for a moment at its current pace, and then slowed. The smell of piss met Murdoc%u2019s nostrils as 2D%u2019s bladder let go, the warm fluid soaking through Murdoc%u2019s clothing and hitting his skin as his soft breathing shuddered to a stop. And then he was gone. His warm heartbeat ceased its thudding against Murdoc%u2019s own still steadily beating heart, and he was left with his arms full of 2D%u2019s empty shell.

XXX

Fighting back the urge to lose control right then and there, Murdoc pulled himself out of the memory and back into the present times. He watched the paper sack before him intently for a moment before snatching it up and taking it with him as he went on the familiar journey toward 2D%u2019s basement bedroom. The lift was dark and silent, the hallways empty, and 2D%u2019s bedroom was just as silent as it had been that night when he left it, carrying 2D%u2019s lifeless corpse in his arms.

The bed had been stripped of its bloodstained sheets, the wall scrubbed clean of its gory crimson stains, but the memory of how it had looked that night remained, burned into Murdoc%u2019s memory.

He crossed the room, taking his old quick strides toward the bed. Everything was left as it had been when 2D was still alive, and for Murdoc, it was like a window into a long-passed time. A happier time. He sat down on the bare bed, cross-legged, and opened the paper bag. He pulled out a gray shirt, unrolling it. From the soft bundle fell a small, gleaming gun, still mottled with dried blood from that night. 2D%u2019s blood. The same blood was soaked in large patches into the gray shirt. The shirt Murdoc had worn that night.

Pulling the shirt over his head, Murdoc smoothed it out over his torso. The blood made it stiff in some places. He surveyed his surroundings as his hand crept around the gun, fingers still trembling uncontrollably. It made a sharp clicking sound as he cocked it, and then his shaking arm slowly rose, the gun slid smoothly into his mouth. It was cold, and a shiver went down his spine. His finger crept onto the trigger%u2026 his eyes fluttered shut%u2026

%u201CMurdoc-san,%u201D came a shocked whisper. Murdoc was startled. The gun jerked out of his mouth and went off, shooting straight into the ceiling. His eyes shot open, and he caught sight of Noodle, standing in the doorway. She was clad in a long, pink Hello Kitty night shirt, making her look much younger than fourteen. Her green eyes were large in shock, and she was barely blinking. Her purple hair stood on end from being slept on, making her look as though she had seen something terrifying.

%u201CSweet Satan,%u201D Murdoc stammered. %u201CWhere did you come from?%u201D

%u201CUpstairs. Why are you doing this?%u201D

Murdoc blinked at the young girl. Why should he explain himself to her? %u201CBecause I%u2019ve had enough of this shit, Noodle-love,%u201D he explained. %u201CAnd in the end, we all die anyway. Might as well save Mr. Reaper a trip, eh?%u201D

In one swoop, Noodle was at the bedside, and her nimble hands had taken the gun from him before he could see what she was doing. The gun looked out of place in her hand, and the whole effect was a bit disturbing. Noodle placed the gun delicately on 2D%u2019s bureau and returned to the bedside, climbing up beside the Satanist and enveloping him in a comforting hug.

%u201CI miss him as much as you do,%u201D she said softly. %u201CBut that does not mean it%u2019s right to die over it.%u201D she let go of him and gave him a reproachful look.

%u201CJesus fucking Christ!%u201D Murdoc exclaimed. %u201CIt%u2019s my fault he killed himself. Mine. And I%u2018m going to rot in hell for it, like I should have done a year ago.%u201D

%u201CIt was 2D%u2019s decision,%u201D Noodle pointed out. %u201CYou didn%u2019t make it for him.%u201D

%u201CI pushed him over the edge.%u201D Murdoc could feel that guilt again. It bubbled up in his stomach and chest like hot wax. %u201CIt was me. Everything I said, everything I did, it all pushed him farther, until eventually he couldn%u2019t take it anymore.%u201D

%u201CPerhaps we all did things to drive him to his decision. But there is nothing we can do about it now.%u201D Noodle patted his hand. %u201CBut we must let it go.%u201D

%u201CHow can I let it go when I feel so goddamned responsible for it?%u201D

%u201CIt will get better with time.%u201D Noodle hugged him again, and Murdoc allowed himself to be cradled like a child that had suffered from a nightmare. %u201CJust remember that 2D-san would have wanted you to be happy.%u201D

Murdoc wasn%u2019t sure why, but he completely broke down at that. The tears flowed freely down his cheeks in rivers and dripped into Noodle%u2019s hair, but she didn%u2019t seem to mind. Murdoc was slightly embarrassed to be crying, and tried to stop his tears. It was impossible. And so he decided to cry until he was an empty shell, just as 2D had become.

It certainly sounded better than existing as he did now.