The Journals

:(9):

       Morty had been sitting on the couch for another hour before he heard the door click. He didn't want to look, knowing it was Rick. He had read the message. Of course he would walk out. Morty wrote stories about him in those journals, and now Rick had a bit of knowledge about it.

       Walking in, Rick set a box in front of Morty, who sat up anxiously. "What's that?" Lifting the flaps, Morty found his items from college. "Y-You're not going back, M-eugh-Morty. Y-You can't. Not with th-that Daemon douche."
       Digging all throughout the box, Morty found three journals. A quick flip through the pages revealed that nothing had been taken from them. "Rick? Why'd you do that?" Shrugging, Rick pulled out his flask, glad to have filled it earlier, "He can't get away with that, Morty. I won't let him."

       Morty sat back on the couch, flipping through the journals before he set them down on the couch. "Rick? W-Why have you been like this? Since I came back, you've been completely different than when I used to actually live here. What happened?" Rick shifted uncomfortably, "Don't worry a-eugh-bout it, Morty."

       "Really, Rick, why? Y-You don't do things like this, believe me, I know. Y-You're supposed to be drunk and cranky all the time, but suddenly I show up and *poof* you're happy. Why is that, Rick? Seriously." Morty stared expectantly at Rick, folding  his hands in his lap. Rick seemed lost for words, waving his hands as he shifted from one foot to the other nervously. "I-I-It's nothing, Morty." His face turned crimson, "Morty, really, i-i-it's nothing. eugh" He gave a shaky smile, "I, uh... I have to do something eugh i-in the garage." With that, he ran away, his lab coat fluttering behind him.

       Morty sat on the couch, more interested in reading his own stories than the fanfiction on his phone. He sat and read for hours, hearing constant grumbling from the garage as well as the occasional sound of objects breaking.

       When Morty heard glass break, he decided it was time to get up and find out what the mad man was doing. "Hey, Rick?" Morty knocked on the door before walking in, finding Rick with his head in his hands, sitting at his desk. Broken bottles were scattered across the floor. "Yea, Morty?" With his face buried in his hands, Rick's voice was muffled. "What's up? Heard a lot of... breaking." Sighing, Rick leaned back and spun in his chair.

       "You fucked me up real bad, eugh M-Morty, real euuugh bad." He stopped spinning and stared at Morty with tired eyes. "W-What do you mean?" Now standing in front of Rick, Morty folded his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet. He bit his lip, an anxious habit, and stared at Rick, who moved swiftly once he'd seen Morty's face. Now, he was sitting with his legs crossed, his face dusted with pink. Rick ran a hand through his insanely fluffy hair before looking away from Morty. "Kid, I dunno eugh what you expect from me right now." Morty stopped moving, looking all around him before running up to Rick's 'time travel' box. He pulled a device out and began fiddling with it, "You're really confusing me, Rick. I-I dunno what I'm even supposed to say right now." He took a quick look through a window, "I think it's just gonna be us, even for Christmas, by the way. The storm isn't giving up." 

       Rick turned his head momentarily before standing and walking to a box next to the one marked 'time travel'. He pulled a small, metallic cube from the box, "Want me to fix it?" He made his way to the garage door, preparing to alter the weather, when Morty ran up to him, grabbing his hand, "N-No, I like the storm. It means more snow to play in when it's all gone. Besides, the author is too lazy to write parts for the rest of the family." Rick stared at their hands. Morty's was placed lightly on top of his own. "Well, that and she needs the plot to continue. But, M-Morty eugh, are you sure? I mean, euuuugh don't you wanna s-spend time with all the others? You haven't been home in a while and I- they missed you." Rick had pulled his hand away, tossing the cube back into it's box, and took his seat at his desk again.

       "It's fine, Rick, really. Besides, I think we need to fix whatever is going on right now. Seriously, what's up, dude?" Morty stood behind Rick, leaning on the back of his chair.

        "It's late, Morty. eugh go to sleep." His voice was, once again, muffled as his face was pressed into his arms. "Rick? I don't know what's going on with you, but please tell me tomorrow, then? Please?" Morty placed a hand on Rick's shoulder, his face close to the side of Rick's head, "Please?" Rick groaned and sat up slightly, "M-eugh-aybe. Go, sleep." He lightly pushed Morty out of the garage and stood, stretching his arms above his head. 

       As soon as Morty walked out, Rick pulled the three journals from within his lab coat. "What the eugh fuck did he write?" Taking a seat at his desk, he began reading from the one with the earliest starting date.

       The further he read, the more flustered he got.