Work Text:
oh lord forgive me
***
one. 2d likes to sit on the roof of the building, as far away from the water as he can get. he gets horribly sunburnt from laying up there for hours without anything to cover him. murdoc yells and makes cyborg noodle cover him in aloe vera when he sees the bright burns. if 2d looks straight up at night it is completely silent and there are so many stars that it feels like he is falling up into space. these are the only times he feels peaceful.
two. murdoc loses a lot of weight. he’s manic and the only thing really going into his body is hard alcohol. there are times when his hands shake so much that he has to call off practice because he can’t play his bass anymore. he downs something straight from a tin can, unknown, gelatinous and tasting vaguely of rubber. he drinks some more to get rid of the taste.
three. the evangelist shows up in 2d’s room sometimes with armfuls of vhs tapes of commercials from the 80s. they warp and hiss static between jingles when he plays them on an old tv that he found washed up onshore and repaired. the two of them sit on 2d’s bed and watch them silently for hours. there’s not much else to do. when the last tape runs out the evangelist waits until 2d is finished rewinding them, gathers them up and leaves through the door that 2d thought was locked. the bed is damp where it was sitting. once 2d fell asleep before the evangelist left and woke up alone, hot tears in his eyes from a dream he couldn’t remember.
four. 2d referred to the boogieman as “sun moon stars” once in an offhand remark. “how did you know that’s his name,” murdoc demanded. 2d looked up, confused and a little startled. “i dunno,” he said. “i just do. how do you know that’s his name?” murdoc couldn’t answer.
five. featured artists on the album seem to exist on a separate plane of reality. they came with murdoc and 2d there. they both have clear memories of an exodus of submarines following behind them as they made their way to the beach. their voices are on the tracks and they’ll run into them in the den or the kitchen, crack a beer and have a conversation. the guest artists mention each other and at times you can hear them laughing down the hall. 2d played a game of pool with them once and won 5 pounds and a worn-out sock. but neither murdoc nor 2d can explain how there are 20+ collaborators but the halls are empty more often than they are not and the only things on the beach seem to belong to the two of them. there is strange flat silence between the lapping of the waves and they can’t find anyone when they want to, only when they stumble across them, and then everything continues as normal. they turn around when a track is finished to congratulate everyone and there is nobody there except for the other. suddenly they are emptied and filled with an aching loneliness.
six. murdoc does not cry. if he did, he does not remember it.
seven. there is something about on melancholy hill. for a few seconds after the final bell tolls, nobody can breathe. the air stagnates in the lungs. it is uncomfortable and jarring the first few times, but ultimately harmless. 2d never mentions it. it makes murdoc terrified.
eight. plastic beach is a no man’s land. it is an ungoverned place but there are many rules, most of which are unspoken. do not try to leave. do not eat the jellyfish. do not look in the mirror or think about what you have become. you may engage with the boogieman but do not let him get too close. do not look directly at the sun and do not look directly at him and do not listen to the crying. do not try to remember what it is like to not be lonely. do not think about what might have happened or what could have been. do not let him know. the most important rule is do not say her name. this is for his sake and for your sanity, or his sanity and your sake. now that you think about it, there’s not much of a difference.
***
all we are is stars