Reality

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

note: this takes place after last chapter! it's the next day 8) IS IT A DREAM? IS IT REAL LIFE? is it BOTH?

oOo

The trip back to his Winnebago proves to be a difficult one as he feigns nonchalance and passiveness. He forces a smile, forces apathy as he ignores the frown 2D sends his way.

A step up, a step forward and a step down. He reaches blindly to the side, through his cupboards and cabinets, pulling bottle after bottle to his chest in preparation for his binge.

He tips his head back and drinks, swallowing greedily in an attempt to wash away the morose and repentant feeling settling in his chest.

Murdoc Niccals doesn't feel guilt.

His heart, blackened and hardened over years of neglect and abuse, is too twisted and mangled to understand such a feeling.

Or so he tells himself. He keeps telling himself that his head is wrong, that his regretful heart is lying to him.

He trips over himself, falling onto his bed in a mass of bottles and limbs and he groans in frustration. The weight of his ribs pressing against smooth glass is painful, almost too much for even him to handle and he removes himself from the pile.

Murdoc Niccals doesn't feel guilt.

However, what does feel, right now, is nothing short of unpleasant. He rolls onto his back, props himself on his elbows and allows himself to fall apart. One hand gripping the neck of a bottle and the other gripping at his hair, all he can see is 2D's disapproving frown.

He takes a deep swig off of his bottle of rum, the burning sensation of alcohol stinging his nose and throat and he wipes his mouth sloppily.

The night is still young. There's still time for him to drown and wallow in self-pity.

And time, strange as it is, shifts at strange and sluggish pace. It morphs his perception into something almost malleable, tricking him, making him feel as if he's still fully there. His vision is blurry and unfocused, clouded with a drunken veil and he can almost feel his eyes crossing. They drift lazily, moving across the room and everything in his line of vision has a double.

Even the blue-haired figure standing in his doorway. However, when he blinks, it doesn't disappear.

"Muds?" the figure asks, voice laced with concern and hesitance and they remain stationed just outside of Murdoc's room. His grip on his hair loosens and he feels his shoulders relax at the gentle tone, coaxing him into a more placid state. He blinks blearily at them, trying his best to clear his vision and the figure comes into focus a bit more.

"Mm?" he asks, rubbing his face and he takes note of the stubble beginning to grow there. "Who're...what're ya doin in here?"

The figure looms closer now, entering the room completely. The closeness of the figure fixes Murdoc's lack of focus, and he's suddenly able to recognize his visitor.

"Hey, Muds." 2D smiles nervously, seeming to take note of just how smashed Murdoc is. He pauses, grin faltering. "...It's 2D."

And now Murdoc is smiling.

"Ahhh, yes, yes!" he croons, face brightening. "My li'l song bird."

2D's smile flickers a bit, eyebrows quirking at the other's possessive tone. He purses his lips, shoulders shrugging in acceptance.

"..Sure, Muds. Whatever you say."

Murdoc snorts, shaking his head and he adjusts his position on the bed in order to make room for the singer. Patting the spot next to him, he gazes up at the other expectantly and he notices 2D's critical glance. He narrows his eyes and taps his fingers irritably, his patience wearing thin.