Reality

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

note: barely any time has passed between last chapter and this one 8)

(edited on August 3, 2015- i took something out bc it was obnoxious)

(edited again on December 6, 2015)

it became rly short i'm so sorry

oOo

Murdoc is, above all else, an extremely restless person with neurotic tendencies. His heels scuff and scrape against the dry pavement floor as he spins in circles outside 2D's door. His pacing only seems to get worse as time goes on, and he locks his fingers firmly in his hair when his anxiety begins to consume him.

He quickly grows frustrated with himself for having such fragile thoughts and desires, but it's nothing new to him. Not in any sense.

He continues pacing outside of 2D's bedroom door, trying to think of a good and very Murdoc-esque way of approaching him without coming off as desperate.

After a few seconds of silent brainstorming, and ultimately coming up with nothing, he tears his fingers from his hair and heaves an angry sigh. His eyes dart across the floor, searching for something, anything to pick up and when he focuses on a loose piece of cement cracking out of place near his feet he narrows his eyes.

Murdoc smirks to himself and bends over, tugging the slab out of place. Hefting it into his arms, he counts down in his head from three to one, and slams it against 2D's door with all his might. He hears a feint rustling from the other side runs off in the opposite direction, skidding to a stop next to his car. When he's a good distance away he feigns nonchalance and watches 2D's door open, blue-headed mop of hair emerging from the doorway.

"Hey there, faceache!" Murdoc greets cheerfully, snickering at 2D's bleary and confused expression.

2D scratches his head and casts the bassist an irritated glare. "Did you throw jus' somethin' at my door?" he asks, exiting his room completely and crosses his arms over his chest. Murdoc snorts.

"Oh of course not." he drawls, sticking his hands in his pockets. "As you can plainly see, Stu-Pot, I'm over here. Notthere."

2D looks to the area next to him and spots the cement slab, cracked slightly and very obviously moved by a human.

"..Yeah...okay..." he laments, his tone sounding unconvinced. 2D seems to take note of how Murdoc is dressed: jacket, sweaters, hat... just bundled up because he's always so fucking cold.

He seems to take note, but he doesn't seem to register it. The bassist shifts under 2D's stare.

"Well," he says, clapping his hands together sharply, motioning for 2D to join him in his little spot, "now that you're awake, why don't you come on over and allow yourself to indulge in my presence?"

2D remains standing outside his door, looking even more confused. "..Huh..?"

Murdoc rolls his eyes and once again motions for 2D to come over to him. "Get over here." he commands, growing impatient. "Come on, start walkin', kid."

2D does as he's told, rubbing at his bare arms absentmindedly, his slipper-clad feed padding against the cement floor mutely. "What d'ya want, Muds?"

The bassist heaves a sigh. "Is it really that hard to believe that I, Murdoc Niccals, want to spend some time with mydearest and closest friend, Stuart Pot?" he asks, his voice pitched up a bit in order to sound heartbroken, placing his hands over his chest. "That's you, by the way. I've gotta say, 2D, you cut real deep."