Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes it’s during the dead hours of the early morning that one truly sees the beauty of a city. In Marrakech, the prettiest thing seems to be the sky. Even a starless and moonless evening casts an eerie glow that bathes everything it touches in the softest of colors. The dawn and dusk of Morocco bear a striking resemblance to the sunrises seen along the shoreline of many beautiful beaches. Not exactly tropical, but close enough to elicit many memories in 2D.  

 It’s not the first time 2D’s been to Morocco, nor will it be the last, but he hadn't really paid attention to the night sky until he decided to pass many hours of a quiet Thursday evening admiring the scene from his fourth floor balcony. It's not the most exciting of activities but there's worse ways to spend the remainder of his free time. Of course, 2D could go inside and do something else, but there’s nothing he could think of that he’d actually rather be doing. Other than going back to sleep, that is. But his ability to sleep has eluded him for several hours now. Not even if his hotel room is one of the nicest he’s stayed in for ages. He’s too restless for sleep.

He spots movement below, along the dimly-lit pebbled pathway of the hotel’s gardens. A young couple with their arms intertwined, making their way to the entrance on the other side of the hotel. It’s the first sign of life 2D’s encountered aside from the occasional hum and chatter of the insects and birds hiding in the brush. Must be nearing dawn, then, if someone’s up at this time. An unsubtle reminder that 2D has been awake for far too long.

Groaning, 2D shakes his battered pack of cigarettes, sticking one in his mouth and turning his attention to the phone in his hand. Friday, 6:57 am, it reads. He flips over to his messages and scrolls to his most recent contact. No reply. 

2D’s heart starts to calm. Murdoc’s late. Maybe he changed his mind— his bandmate was prone to doing that. Maybe 2D can just go to bed and forget about today. He’ll have one more day of peace. He puts away his phone and reaches for his lighter—

“Stuart?”

Sharp rapping on his door follows the muffled voice, startling 2D so badly that the lighter in his hand slips out of his grasp. He watches in dismay as it bounces off the balcony railing and over the edge. The last thing he sees of his favorite lighter is a flash of silver before disappearing into the brambles lining the building wall of the ground floor.

“Oh, fuck, fuck—” 2D leans over the railing and peers straight down, trying to see where his lighter had landed in the foliage. But the lights were too dimmed down to see anything. Looking around frantically, he spots someone on the ground floor heading in his general direction and sticks his arm out to catch the person’s attention. 

“Oi! Can I ask for some help?”

The heavyset man, clad in a drab grey uniform and trundling a wheeled mop bucket, glances up at the sound of 2D’s voice. 2D sheepishly smiles and waves at him.

The man responds by shooting him a look of pure disdain and shuffling out of sight.

2D sighs.

“2D? ‘D! Rise and shine!” the voice on the other side of his door calls out again, surprisingly loud despite the layer of heavy wood separating him from 2D. Another series of knocks, this time more urgent. “Don’t make me wait!” 

“Coming, coming!” 2D hisses in annoyance as he leans away from the balcony edge and reenters his room. He opens his door to see Murdoc peeking into the crack, wearing a toothy grin on his face.

“You made me drop my lighter,” 2D greets before Murdoc had the chance to speak. “Your knocking scared me silly while I was trying to take a smoke. It’s lost somewhere in the shrubs downstairs now.”

“Why get worked up over a lighter? Then replace it,” he says dismissively.

“I can’t just replace it. It’s my favorite lighter. Noodle gave it to me after a trip to Japan, it has my name engraved on it an’ everything—”

 “Then ask Noodle to get you another one, and I’ll repay her,” Murdoc interjects, making 2D raise his eyebrows. Before the other had a chance to retort, Murdoc peers past 2D, into his space, and surveys it appreciatively. “How’re you liking your, shall we say, upgraded accommodations? Everything all in order?”

“Mmm…” 2D purses his lips in disapproval before deciding to drop the subject. He glances back at his own room. “It’s… nice, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” Murdoc clicks his tongue and gives him a withering look. “What more d’you want? I gave you the best room we have, just so I could be repaid like this? C’mon.”

“I didn’t ask you to give me this room. I like having my room next to Noodle’s. Sometimes she lends me her shampoo when I forget mine. It smells like strawberries.”

“Your room’s across mine, so you can ask me this time.” Murdoc’s eyes stray down to his plain T-shirt and jeans. He makes a face at 2D, not unlike the one he saw on the janitor just moments ago. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Dressed? I am dressed.”

“No you’re not.” Murdoc forces the door open wider, revealing him in a familiar green outfit of a leather bike jacket, trousers, and cuban-heeled boots. He adjusts the green cape draped over his shoulders and stares at 2D reproachfully. “Why are you wearing that?”

2D takes a few seconds to realize what was wrong. “Oh. Oh!” He rubs his head sheepishly, looking down at himself again. “Sorry. Er…  I didn’t think you were actually serious about… wearin’... those…  now.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

“You really wanna shoot a music video with us wearing these? In public?” 2D walks to his dresser to retrieve his own blue biker jacket and jeans, still untouched and wrapped in its packaging. “They look like bloody… couple’s outfits or somethin’. They’re matching.”

“Satan, don’t call it that then,” Murdoc tells him, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don't read into it. They’re not couple’s outfits, you plonker. They just… match.  I thought it’d be fun to wear these. Y’know, show of camaraderie and whatnot. For our ‘budding friendship.’ Haven’t you ever worn a matching outfit with a mate?”

“No,” 2D replies bluntly.

“Never played a team sport? You were happy enough to pick these out with me, what’s the problem?”

“I just thought we’d be wearing them for, I dunno, some other time. Not for a music video that our fans will see us in.”

“For what? April Fool’s? We’re riding a motorbike for the music video. These are biker jackets. D’you have anything better to wear for the occasion?” Murdoc doesn’t even bother hiding his laughter. “Of course I was serious. Is your head screwed on wrong, or d’you want to hide the fact that you’re chummy with me? I’m wounded, ‘D.”

It just feels like we’re putting on a front, 2D manages not to say, keeping a straight face. “Alright, alright, I was just sayin’. I’ll put them on. Give me a minute."

“Get your arse moving! It’ll be daybreak soon and it’s a long walk to the car park.” Murdoc adds before 2D slams the door in his face.

He rolls his eyes at the closed door before shucking off his shoes. With a shake of his head, 2D lifts his jacket out of its plastic wrap, rolling the smooth fabric between his fingers. Even if he's reluctant to wear it, the least he could do is appreciate the craftsmanship. There’s nothing to complain about the clothes— it’s surprisingly comfortable and snug despite all the leather, and he’d be a liar if he were to say it didn’t flatter him in the slightest— but he still feels it to be ill-fitting. 

Maybe his self-consciousness stems from how he had obtained his clothes. When Murdoc had insisted on getting them, 2D had humored him thinking that it was another one of his empty ‘gestures.’ But after agreeing, 2D was then promptly and unceremoniously dragged out to a tailor shop for one of the longest fitting sessions he had done in his entire life. 2D had been shown more kinds of fabric, styles of jacket, and shades of blue than he ever cared to see in one day. And on top of that, Murdoc paid for everything. By the time they were finished, 2D had been too exhausted and dazed to notice how similar his outfit was to Murdoc’s.

It’s just so, so strange for him to see this kind of over-the-top treatment from Murdoc, but in the last few weeks his bandmate had all but normalized it. To the point that 2D’s almost come to expect it, however abrupt that change was.

He dresses quickly and gives himself another glance at the mirror, nodding. Nearly ready. After slipping into his own pair of boots, he reaches into the pocket of his discarded pair of jeans and fishes out his phone to check his messages from Noodle. (0) new messages. Odd, she would’ve texted him already if they were meeting up soon.

2D:   Me and murdoc are ready.  See you in a few

He slips his phone back into his pocket, wishing she would reply in the next minute or two. At least 2D can count on her to help diffuse any incidents that happen with Murdoc. He’s not quite sure yet if he could handle Murdoc alone for a full day, especially with all the warnings she and Russel have been drilling into him lately.

For a second 2D ponders on their words, his thumb hovering over the call button. 

“Oi, 2D! What’s taking you so long?!” 

“Hold your horses, I’m done!” 2D yells back in frustration, switching off his phone. He exits the room quickly to find a now-smiling Murdoc, giving him an appreciative once-over once his eyes land on his clothes.

“Attaboy! Much better. Hang on— I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Hmm?” 2D looks down at himself in confusion, patting his clothes. “What’d I forget? I don’t have much on me. Did you give me socks to wear?”

“Socks? Chrissakes, 2D. Right. Get over here. And bend down, you beanstalk, don’t make me reach up or I’ll yank on your hair.” Before 2D could react, Murdoc abruptly breaches his personal space and presses his hand on the back of his neck, guiding the taller man down. 2D stares in bewilderment as Murdoc looms impossibly close, eyeing him with a passive yet contemplative look.

“M-m-muds?” His brain fizzles out when he feels Murdoc's’s fingers thread carefully into his hair.

“There.” 2D feels the other's fingers withdraw when something soft slips onto his head. He hears a pleased hum escape Murdoc’s lips. The other man steps back out of 2D’s space again, allowing him to breathe. 

2D tugs down the item on his head, noting the blue-and-orange striped fabric now covering his hair. He looks at Murdoc questioningly.

“What is it?”

“The pièce de résistance. It’s just a cap. Found this little number at the pound shop. Thought it’d look good on you with the rest of the outfit. Consider it, er, another gift.”

“Right…” 2D mumbles, his own hands buried in the soft cotton of his new hat.

“Trust me, you look fantastic. Why, d’you want to gawk at yourself in the mirror again? S’why you took ages dressing up, didn’t you?”

The image of himself staring at his own reflection pops into his mind uninvited. “Shut it. I was doing no such thing.”

“That sounds very believable ‘D, do go on,” Murdoc deadpans, smirking when 2D goes pink.

2D hides his laugh behind his hand. “Wanker. When are Russel and Noodle getting here? I don’t think I can stand another second with you.”

The smile on Murdoc’s face slips so minutely that 2D almost doesn't notice. Almost. “Ah, that. I knew I forgot to tell you something. We’re going on the bike ride alone for now. They’re not coming yet.”

“Wait. What? What d’you mean, they’re not coming? Why would they not go? It’s our music video, you told me—”

“Keep your wig on. I said for now. They’ll… catch up. They might still be asleep, or taking a shower, who knows? They’re running late. It’ll just be the two of us for now.”

“Asleep? Didn’t you tell them when we’re shooting the music video? Why would they be late? They’re never late,” 2D says, squinting at Murdoc. “Maybe we oughta go to their rooms, check up on them—”

“No need. Look, 2D. You remember Noodle went to that rooftop bar last night? Well, it's arse-o’-clock in the morning right now. She might've got smashed yesterday, with a killer hangover to sleep off. Give her some time. Same with Russ. Who knows if that oaf needs to sleep something off too? We weren’t with them yesterday.”

Alone with Murdoc for now. If Noodle was still asleep, it would explain why she hasn’t responded to 2D’s text yet. But knowing this didn’t help soothe 2D’s nerves.  “But maybe we could wait for them, then? Call it off until they’re ready? Why’d we have to do this so early?”

 “You want me to turn around and go back to my room? We’re already dressed, might as well have our fun,” Murdoc tells him wryly, gesturing to himself then to 2D. “And we’re trying to catch that fabled sunrise along the beach, remember? It’s lovely. Be a shame if we missed it.”

“I suppose…” 2D shoves his hands into his pocket and stares down the hallway. 

“If you’re really cut up about it, we could just drive around Marrakech ‘til they wake up. Just some quality bonding time, yeah? Sod shooting the video with a sunrise backdrop. I just don’t want these outfits to go to waste. We can do the music video later.”

“As long as we do the music video with Russel and Noodle,” 2D stresses.

“Whatever you say, bluebird. Now let’s get going, our bike’s waiting for us at the car park!” Murdoc cheers, steering 2D to the lifts.  “You look like I’m planning to eat you. M’not going to bite your head off. You were alone with me last night, yeah? You’re still alive now. Calm down.”

“Last night was different. There were loads of people in that restaurant.”

“But Russel and Noodle weren’t there, ergo my point still stands. I bet they talked your ear off too before you decided to go with me.”

“You have no idea.”

In fact, Russel had taken 2D aside multiple times to tell him to keep his distance from Murdoc. Yesterday night, after Murdoc had asked him to have dinner with him, was when Russel made 2D sit through the most stern lecture yet. When 2D had tried to defend himself by saying that Murdoc had taken his dietary  preferences into account and was even paying (again?) for his food, his flabbergasted bandmate then pointed out that they were going on what was—in all respects—  an honest-to-god, proper date. That Murdoc was, in Russel’s words, ‘bromancing’ 2D like his life depended on it that night. 

2D still went. He’d never think about mentioning Russel's comments to Murdoc, though.

“I’m glad you trusted me,” Murdoc replies, his voice surprisingly soft. “Thank you.”  Murdoc peeks up at him through his fringe and flashes him a genuine smile, crooked and full of good mirth. It’s so rarely directed at 2D, so unexpected of Murdoc, that it disarms the other for a good moment or two. 2D’s heart skips a beat when their eyes meet.

Trust? “It’s no problem,” he says weakly, looking away. “Right. Anyways, we’re going ahead then? I’ll just send a text to Noodle that we’ll be gone, and—”

“No!” 2D jerks back in surprise when Murdoc yanks on the jacket sleeve of his left hand, which was in the process of taking out his phone. “I mean—there’s no need for that. I’ve already tried calling earlier and they haven’t replied. That’s how I knew they weren’t ready.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll send them a text telling them where we’re going so they can follow us. I’ll be willing to bet my bass on us returning ‘fore they even notice.” Murdoc releases his grip on 2D’s arm to jab at the lift button with more force than necessary. “Have you talked to them yet?”

2D pauses.

“No, I haven’t,” he finally responds, shoving a hand into his pocket. His fingers brush against the edge of his phone.

“Then leave it to me.” The lift pings and its doors open, allowing Murdoc to usher 2D inside. “We’re in no hurry for them to join us anyways. We can have a nice, quick jaunt around Marrakech without ‘em. How does that sound?”

 “S’nice… just feels weird not to wait for Noodle and Russ. It’s like we’re going behind their backs.” 

“Forget about them. Why wait when we have Morrocco in the palm of our hands? We could go anywhere! Where’d you like to go, mate?” Murdoc asks 2D, seemingly back to high spirits.

2D smiles. Murdoc’s enthusiasm, though out of place, is still admittedly infectious. “How 'bout you, Muds? Is there anyplace you’d like to go?” 2D says, bouncing the question back to the other man.

Murdoc takes a moment to consider. “Nowhere in particular. Or—Alright, maybe just one. We could go to Medina.”

“The old city,” 2D muses. The name conjures up images of mazelike alleyways, the aroma of dusty leather and succulent street food, and markets big enough to get lost in. “Why?”

“‘Why?’ Why not? I just want to have a look around. You don’t want to?”

“I— course I do, Murdoc, but don’t you hate those kinds of places? I thought you called it a tourist trap. You didn’t want to go when Noodle suggested we visit a few days ago.”

“Can’t I change my mind? I didn’t want to go with Noodle. She takes ages choosing where to buy her souvenirs,” Murdoc grumbles. The lift doors finally open and they step out into another hallway.  “I want to see the sights, not live in them.”

“Fair. Yeah, might not be the best idea to go with Noods if we’re on a tight schedule. Is there somewhere in Medina you want to visit?”

“Y’know what Medina’s famous for, right?” 2D nods. “Bazaars. Massive buildings packed to the brim with stalls and shouting salesmen. Shops filled with every sort of knickknack under the sun. There’s no better place to find the finest selection of Arabian products.”

“That’s what I hear from Noodle.”

“It’s a quintessentially Middle Eastern thing. Who knows what we can find there? Best of all, they call it by something else here, too.”

“Oh?” 2D says absentmindedly, side-stepping when a door opens to their right. A herd of five children, all in swimwear, file out, followed by two haggard parents who shoot Murdoc and 2D looks of suspicion before walking off in the opposite direction. “What’s that?” 

“Souks.”

2D nearly trips over his own feet when he hears Murdoc’s casual answer. He rights himself in time and whips his head towards the other man, who was already wearing a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What’re you getting at??”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It doesn’t mean anything,” Murdoc says innocently. “Or does it?” 

“Murdoc,” he warns, mortified.

“Alright, alright. I’m only joshing,” his bandmate relents, laughing. Without warning, Murdoc arm slinks around 2D, settling a warm and heavy weight on his shoulders. It’s physical contact that was too companionable, too uncharacteristic for someone like Murdoc. It’s unsettling. 2D’s immediate, visceral reaction to the touch was to flinch and distance himself from the other man. 

“What?” Murdoc drops his arm and stares at 2D. “I was trying to be friendly.”

“Er, nothing. Nothing. I— I was just surprised. That’s all.” 2D brushes past Murdoc before the other could touch him again, effectively cutting the conversation short.

2D sighs inwardly at his own unsubtle actions and fiddles with the zippers of his biker jacket in an attempt to quell his agitation. His mind has always been in a turbulent state of unrest around Murdoc, but lately, it’s been even more so. He knows his unease is usually caused by Murdoc’s unkindness, but the his bandmate’s been the opposite of unkind lately. He’s actually been a joy to be around nowadays. If 2D was truthful with himself, he’d admit that a Murdoc who didn’t try to antagonize him got along far better with him than Russel or Noodle ever would. 

He still can’t figure out the cause of Murdoc’s new behavior. Could it be some kind of guilt? Murdoc coming to a realization? 2D might not be the most observant person, but he could still take a stab at approximating the moment when Murdoc had decided to turn ‘nice.’ There’s a scene etched in his mind with vivid detail. Just one short moment— directly after they had returned from their trip to Lake Como. The moment Murdoc saw them, put together the pieces, and confirmed they had gone on the trip without him.

The expression on Murdoc’s face after his revelation was hard for 2D to forget. As if he had crushed some hope in Murdoc, or disappointed him somehow. Murdoc had fallen eerily quiet...  and the way he had quietly avoided 2D and the others for days after—

A loud clap of thunder draws 2D out of his thoughts. Alarmed, he glances out of an open window for a second to observe the sky.

“We should hurry up. It could rain,” Murdoc comments from his side. 2D nods his assent.

“Yeah. It’s weird, wasn’t it balmy yesterday? You reckon it’ll rain?” The sky’s still mostly painted in inky black hues, but threads of pinks and purples and oranges were starting to weave themselves into the predawn tapestry. Over the low roof of their hotel building, he could see the dull yellow orb of the sun skating its rays across Morocco’s skyline. No ominous clouds to be seen yet, but the unmistakable sound of thunder rumbles low in the distance.

“Hope not, that would really put a damper on our plans. Imagine coming all the way here only for a storm to ruin everything. Riding a motorbike in the rain isn’t exactly my idea of fun, 2D.”

“Then we can just do it indoors, then. Film all the footage we need in Russel’s golf cart and just put it on a green screen,” 2D offers, half-jokingly. “No one will be able to tell if we've gone on the bike trip or not.”

“Ride on the streets in a golf cart? Spectacular idea,” Murdoc says, snorting. “And shooting indoors would be a waste of our trip to Morocco. Why come here, then?”

2D shrugs. “Can’t predict the weather, Muds. I didn't think it'll rain."

“Not to worry. You can solve it in a pinch, right? If worse comes to worst, you could just whisk all of us to the next best place to shoot. I’m thinking… Tahiti, maybe Jamaica. I hear it’s still gorgeous this time of the year.”

2D tilts his head. “What d’you mean?”

“I meant what I said. I’m saying that if there’s an easy way out of here, we should use it.”

A subtle shift in Murdoc’s voice had 2D furrowing his brows.

Murdoc pinches the bridge of his nose when he sees the other’s expression. “I’m talking about the portals, 2D! That phantom tollbooth! The gates! Why not use them when we need to?” Murdoc answers impatiently. “They’re a convenient way to go anywhere you want on the planet. I’ve only had an up-close-and-personal-look when we used one of ‘em to get here.”

Like the one we used when we went to Lake Como? A tiny voice in 2D’s mind suddenly asks. A small wispy mix of guilt and shame and something unidentifiable curls up in 2D, which he tries to squash unsuccessfully. Of course Murdoc would ask about it again. He's only ever been interested in it ever since he got left behind.

“I guess you could say that,” 2D agrees cautiously,  “but they don’t work that way. I’m at a loss. They’re harder to control than you think. We can’t just go to Tahiti or Jamaica willy-nilly.”

“So you can control them,” prompts Murdoc, his interest piqued. “In a way.”

“Yes. No. I mean— not exactly. They’re bloody weird. They never work the way you want to. I think they started poppin’ up ‘round the time the Song Machine was turned on. Not too sure, but I think they’re connected somehow. I actually have a theory about ‘em, but it’s hard to confirm.”

“Explain.” 

“Mmm… I reckon the portals don’t send you to where you want to go, but where you need to go. Or where we have to be?  If they’re connected to the Song Machine, maybe they’re sending us to places that’ll help us make our songs. Somethin’ like that, anyways.”

 “You wrote the last two songs.”  Murdoc states flatly.

“Yeah. I did.” 2D confirms, a shiver running down his spine when the other's gaze intensifies. It's no small secret that he had written Désolé and Aries, but he can't help but feel a thrill whenever he's reminded of how many people knew about it. One could so easily peer into his mind by reading into the songs' lyrics. It's a lesson he learned all too well during the release of The Now Now.  

“So you’re telling me… the Song Machine thought you needed to be here, in Morocco, to work on Aries?” 

“I reckon, yeah.” 

“Are you telling me there’s something about the other song you wrote that could’ve made Song Machine want to leave me behind? Is that it?” Murdoc needles. “What made it think you had to go to Lake Como with everyone but me?”

“I-I-I—  I dunno.” 2D stutters, stumbling over his words at the mention of Lake Como.  “I really don’t. It’s just a silly theory alright? Utter bollocks. I could be wrong.”

For the first time this morning, 2D sees a dark cloud pass over Murdoc’s features. A split-second look of frustration that was gone as fast as it came.

“Theory, eh? Well let’s suppose chances are 50/50 and you turned out right. What do you think you wrote for Désolé that could’ve prevented me from passing through the portal? Just a hypothetical.”

“I can’t think of a reason. Maybe the machine thought it only needed the three of us?” In actuality, he could think of a few (or several) things, but he sure as hell wasn’t telling Murdoc any of them. The last thing he wanted was for Murdoc to find out who was weighing heavily on his mind when he wrote the songs. He might seriously consider leaving the band altogether.  

But something about 2D’s answer obviously irks Murdoc, because he reaches out and grabs his arm. “It thought it needed only the three of you for a song you wrote. Aries is another song you wrote. But somehow that blasted machine decided I could come along for the ride now. What do you think’s changed, hmm?”

“They’re two different songs, Murdoc, I dunno why you’re comparing them!” 2D exclaims, trying to wriggle out to no avail.

“I mean it’s peculiar, innit? Maybe there’s something about you that made it act up like that. Or something about what you wrote. Leaves a lot to the imagination. Don’t you think?”

2D could feel every thump of his quickening pulse. He doesn’t know if his heart is racing because Murdoc’s speculations were really hitting a bit too close to home, or if  it’s because his circulation was being cut off due to Murdoc’s unyielding grip.

“You… you really think I’m using the feelings I put into my songwriting as a way to control the portals?” 

Murdoc ponders for a brief moment. “Yes, but if we follow that line of logic, that would mean that they’re somehow about me, yeah?” he says, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

A pause.

2D’s heart stops.

A round of coarse, derisive laughter follows. “Interesting. Very interesting, 2D. I don’t buy it yet. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Murdoc says with a questioning lilt to his voice.

“Murdoc, I’ve told you everything,” 2D tells him, pleading silently for a change in subject.

“No you haven’t. You still haven’t told me exactly what went into your head when you wrote Désolé and Aries.“

Now that was the final straw for 2D. “There’s absolutely no need for that, Murdoc! I ain’t controlling those portals. It’s just a thing that happens, alright? Look, you can ask Russel or Noodle, they’ll tell you the same thing!” he begs, face flaming.

Murdoc scowls when 2D painfully pulls his arm out of his grasp. The latter’s paltry attempt to deflect only appeared to annoy him further.  “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll find them out sooner or later.”

“S’not a secr—” 

 Murdoc ignores him completely, abandoning 2D and stalking through another open doorway at the end of the hallway.

Good going, Pot, he thinks, mentally berating himself for Murdoc's poor reaction. 2D immediately forces himself to move and follows his bandmate into the next room. In the heat of their discussion, he hadn’t even realized that they’d reached the lobby of their hotel. He brushes past a noisy horde of tourists complaining to a frazzled bellhop to spot Murdoc already talking to the lobby receptionist. When their eyes meet, Murdoc gives him only the barest hint of acknowledgement in the form of a nod. 2D braces himself and walks closer.

“Murdoc? I'm sorry I didn't tell—” 

To his surprise, Murdoc turns to him after speaking to the receptionist with the slightest hint of a smile. “No need to explain. Let’s keep going. Car park’s just across the road. Give me the bike keys, I have the ticket. You can wait for me by the entrance,” Murdoc says with a voice practically dripping with cheer.

It takes a moment for 2D to register the other’s words after the complete tonal shift. “I gave you the keys.”

“No you didn’t.” 

“Yes I did. It’s in your room. Last night, I put it on your dresser.”

 Murdoc's pleasant veneer disappears again. “And pray tell, 2D, when exactly did you inform me that you left the key in my room?”

“Er…”

“Oh, Satan. For the love of— you didn’t bother to tell me. So the key’s all the way up in my room, then?” Murdoc slaps his forehead. “You really know how to test my patience, don’t you, Dents?”

 2D winces at Murdoc’s use of his old nickname. “Sorry. I thought you’d still see it. I left it in a really obvious place.”

“Well, I’m not a mind reader, so why didn’t you tell me it was there?!”

“Do I have to tell you everything? You have eyes, why didn’t you see something sitting right in front of you?”

An uncomfortable silence follows. 2D only realizes his mistake when Murdoc shoots him a deep scowl in response to the retort. He leans away from the other man quickly. It was a look he knew all too well: a trademark Murdoc outburst following in three, two—

To 2D’s great surprise, Murdoc simply clicks his tongue in annoyance and rolls his eyes. 

Murdoc exhales loudly. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll just go up and grab them, then come right back down.”

“I’ll come with. It’s my fault anyways,” 2D volunteers, shooting Murdoc a rueful look. “Maybe we could split up and multitask? Your room’s near Russel’s, right? It’s the perfect opportunity to check up on them. Maybe they’re—”

“No,” Murdoc cuts with a snarl, stunning 2D with his sharpness. “We’ve wasted enough time already. Who knows how long it’ll take for you to talk to Russel? I don’t need you with me.”

2D nods dumbly.

As if he realized how harsh his words have come across, Murdoc’s glower dies and he places a hesitant hand on 2D’s shoulder.

“Sorry I, er, lost my temper. Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Murdoc says, plastering another smile on his face. He pats 2D awkwardly and strolls off before the other could react, disappearing into the same hallway they came from.

2D releases the tiny breath of relief he was still holding and sags against the wall. That was… an experience. He hadn’t expected to come out of two near-arguments with Murdoc unscathed. The other man had managed to stop himself before the fight turned more sour. A far cry from the usual Murdoc—he was never typically one to hold himself back from impulsively acting on his first thought.

Murdoc seemed... fine. Better than fine, despite what the band had done to him during Désolé’s shooting. He actually seemed to be trying to exercise restraint for one, even when his behavior was so blatantly not his normal self. So maybe it was pointless to feel guilty. It wasn’t 2D's fault that Murdoc couldn’t follow after them to Lake Como. It’s not his fault Murdoc couldn’t pass through the portal. What’s done was done, and if leaving him behind was the cause of his reform, then it was a good thing. He liked this reformed Murdoc.  

But reformed Murdoc just didn’t quite sit well with 2D. Even like this, Murdoc was just difficult to trust. Especially when everything he does is so… artificial.

Why can't he still trust him?

The phone in his pocket vibrates. Sighing, 2D digs deep into his pocket and pulls it out, narrowing his eyes at the new message that popped up on his screen.

Noodle: What? Were we supposed to go somewhere today? 😯

2D’s lips curve up.  If Noodle’s replied, that meant she was awake. Which would also mean that she could join him and Murdoc. She’s always served as an effective deterrent for Murdoc’s temper. Chuckling, he types his own responses out quickly.

2D: Still sleeping off that hangover? Yes, of course! If you hurry up you can still catch up to us.  

Noodle: Wdym? I’m not hungover. Catch up with what???  

2D: Sure you’re not. Then how come you forgot?

Noodle: I’m serious!! I didn’t stay out last night, if that’s what you’re saying. What’s happening rn?? I honestly don’t know.

The obvious confusion in her texts gives 2D pause. 

2D: The music video shoot? How could you forget that?

Noodle: That’s today? We’re doing it tomorrow, right? 

2D: No?  

Noodle: I checked, it’s tomorrow. Didn’t Murdoc remind you last night too?

2D’s smile melts completely upon reading Noodle’s last text.  

2D: Murdoc? He didn’t tell me. Did he call you earlier, too?  

Noodle: No he didn’t. Why?

He freezes.

There were two choices in front of him.

He could cut his conversation with Noodle short right now. Leave the contacting to Murdoc, like the other man had promised, and be blissfully unaware.

Or he could keep talking to her and find out something he didn’t want to know.

After what felt like an eternity, 2D forces his trembling fingers to type out the next message.

2D: Can I see the text Murdoc sent you?  

Noodle: Sure.

Attached to Noodle’s message was a screenshot of her conversation with Murdoc, dated yesterday night, around the time when he and Murdoc had come back from dinner. 2D’s eyes home in on one of Murdoc’s texts.

[Murdoc: Music video shoot’s on Saturday, in case you forgot. Which I know you wouldn’t, of course. Don’t forget to tell Russ he has to do safety checks on that bloody golf cart of his if he insists on driving it. We don’t want to have any mishaps on the road, right? And let’s reschedule tomorrow’s band meeting? Suppose we could all use a little break since we’ve been working day and night for the past week. 2D looks like he needs it the most ]

Murdoc had lied.

Noodle: 2D, what’s going on? Did Murdoc not tell you? Don’t believe him, it must be one of his stupid pranks. You can go back to sleep, we’re not doing anything today. Maybe we can all go out after lunch? 😄

Noodle: 2D?

Murdoc

lied  

to 

him. 

The feeling that floods 2D when he finally connects the pieces is intense but nameless. It isn’t quite rage, isn’t quite disappointment, isn’t quite betrayal— he couldn’t feel any of the three that strongly when he had never had any trust in Murdoc in the first place— but it’s somehow worse than all of them. It’s a feeling akin to losing a game with the odds heavily stacked against its players: expected, but the outcome didn’t hurt any less knowing what he’s lost from it.

It's an intense sort of numbness. An exhausting, numbing sensation that seemed to gnaw at him from the inside. He’s stared at his phone for so long that the messages have started to blur together into one incomprehensible mass of words. Even the din and bustle of the hotel lobby has faded into the background, as if he was slowly being choked to death and losing his ability to perceive any sensory input. He could feel his legs trembling, and he thinks he should perhaps sit down before he topples over, but his feet are rooted to the spot, unable (or unwilling) to move him. The world has slowed to a meaningless crawl.

“You okay?”

2D blinks the tears out of his stinging eyes when he hears a voice cut through the thick fray of his thoughts. A child watches him from the opposite corner of the room, wearing an expression of equal parts worry and concern. 2D manages a poor facsimile of a grin for the young girl, quickly prising himself off the wall and slinking out of the room when she turns around to tug at a woman’s skirt. 

Now out of the stuffy, noisy lobby, he starts to wander aimlessly, sniffing quietly and struggling not to drown in his own suffocating thoughts.  

Where the hell was he supposed to go now? Back to his room and pretend that he hadn’t just found out an unsavory truth? What's he supposed to do after knowing that Murdoc played him again? He doesn't even know what he wants to do. The only thing 2D knows is what he didn't want; which was talk to him, or any of his other bandmates who would likely reprimand him for fraternizing with someone so untrustworthy in the first place. 

Why would Murdoc do this to him?

“Ahk!”

2D yelps when he collides with another person, causing the other to stumble. A mopbucket beside the man tips slightly, causing the greyish water inside it to slosh all over the wooden floorboards and carpet.

“Al’abalah!”  he curses, pointing his finger at 2D. “Hal ‘ant ghabi?!”

“I-I-I’m sorry, I don’t speak—” 

“You. I don’t like you,” the man switches to heavily accented English, ignoring 2D’s apology in favor of grabbing the mop to clean the spilled water. "Always making messes." 

“M’sorry, let me—” 2D pockets his phone and reaches for the mop handle.

“Stay away! You’ve done enough!”

 “Why are you so cross?” 2D asks, withdrawing quickly. He frowns in response to the other’s churlishness. When the man looks up at 2D again, shooting a scathing yet familiar look, 2D does a double take. Stocky body, mop bucket, janitor's uniform...

“Oh, I remember you! You’re the janitor I waved at earlier. You gave me the stinkeye for no reason. Pretty rude, that.”

“I’m not polite to people I don’t like.”

The curt answer had 2D floundering for a second or two. “What did I ever do to you?”

“I saw you littering earlier. Do you not think about the people who clean up after you?”

“I don’t litter—”

“Yes you did. Or did I not see you drop something from your balcony?”

Something clicks in 2D’s head. “I— hang on. Are you talking about my lighter?” 2D scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “It was an accident, I didn’t drop it on purpose. S’why I was trying to grab your attention. I wanted to know if you can get it for me. I wasn't asking you to clean up after me, sorry.”

“You're asking me to find it for you after foolishly dropping it?”

“Err... when you put it that way... yeah, I guess I am.”

“Too dark to see,” the janitor says bluntly. “If it landed in the plants, you’ll need to work to find it.”

“Alright, alright.” 2D rubs at his eyes again, hanging his head in resignation. Another thing to spoil his mood. “I guess it’d be too much to ask you to go crawling around the bushes, innit? Nevermind, then. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Do you not want to look for it yourself?” the other says with raised brows. “You say it was your favorite?”

“W-w-well, yeah, I liked that lighter. But what can I do? It’s lost.”

“Then find it yourself if you like it so much.”

“I can just get a new one,” 2D tells him, rubbing his eyes again. “Buy one at—”

“You’re crying,” the man interrupts, catching 2D off-guard with the sudden change in topic. 

2D jumps and takes several spaces back when the man leans closer to examine him. “W-w-what? No. There’s just somethin’ in my eye.”

“No. You are crying. I know what I see.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not crying, I’m just—” tired.  He’s just tired of Murdoc, tired of explaining himself, tired of hoping. Tired of being vulnerable. “Knackered. I think I need some sleep.”

“There’s no need to lie to me. I’m a stranger, I do not know you and I cannot judge you. Tell me if you want. If not, then leave me alone.” The janitor lifts his mop into his bucket, going straight back to cleaning the floor.

 When the silence stretches and it was made clear that the other man wouldn’t speak without being prompted, 2D glances behind him, to the open doorway leading to the lobby. He turns to face the other man with a weary look.  “You know what? Sod it. It’s one of my mates, my friend, he upset me. He’s been cozying up to me for weeks until I learnt that he went behind my back and fucking lied to my face today. I thought everythin’ between us was fine until he did this. Now I dunno what to do.”

The other man nods but doesn’t look up. “Then talk to him about his lies. Get your friend to understand.” 

“It’s not that easy. I’ve known him for ages, and he…” 2D exhales heavily. “He never changes. He always stays the same.”

“That does not sound like a friend, then. Cut him out.” He lifts the soaked mop into the bucket. “Simple.”

“I should. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” 2D’s voice trails off, grappling to find the right words. “Because I want him around. He… he means something to me. Even when he’s… like this. Even when I can’t trust him. Maybe I keep expecting more from him than I should. But I can’t help it for some reason.”

The janitor ponders for a moment.

“Ah, I see. You trust him because he is more than just a friend, yes?”

“W-what? No—”

“He is your best friend,” the man clarifies. 

“Oh.”

“In that case, I cannot give you any advice. He is a close friend, yes? So he is hard to let go of. I do not know you nor your friend, or how long you’ve known each other, so I cannot say if he is someone you should keep as a friend. Only you could say if he deserves that. Only you can make that choice.”

It’s something 2D didn’t want to hear. He’s tired of making the wrong choices.

“I don’t think I can trust him enough to give ‘im another chance. He’s not… trustworthy,” 2D confesses. “I can’t do it.”

“Then do not forgive him. You don’t need him right? It will be hard but the choice will make you happier in the end.”

“Right, but—”

“But?" he prompts. "Why make an exception for him? Does it not matter to you if he is a bad friend or not, if he breaks your trust or not? Do you see something in him that makes you want to give him a chance? Even if he does it over and over?”

2D doesn’t answer.

“You have a very hard choice to make, I do not envy you,” the other man continues, drumming his fingers on the handles impatiently. “You are asking yourself the wrong questions. That is why you cannot understand.”

“Then… what should I ask myself?” 2D says weakly, finding the ability to speak.

“It’s not a question of whether you find your friend trustworthy, but if you think he is worthy of your trust. That is— what’s the word? Subjective. If you love something enough, you will find ways for it, even if it is flawed. Because you value it. Do you value his friendship enough?”

What's there to value in something like Murdoc's friendship? he wants to say. Something that gives him so much tears and grief must be as worthless as the promises Murdoc makes.

But in the last second, 2D gives his most honest answer.

“I don’t know. I honestly don't know.”

“Think it over.” The janitor reaches into the breast pocket of his uniform and retrieves something, holding it up for 2D to see. “Before I forget. I believe this is yours?”

2D gasps when he sees the object’s telltale metal casing. “That’s my lighter! I thought you said it was lost?”

“I said it took work to find, not that it was lost,” he corrects.  “I was going to keep it because it looks broken, but I feel you still need it. Do you want it back?”

The lighter glints silver under the morning sun seeping through the windows. It’s heavily scratched and dented at one corner, but the Japanese katakana spelling out his name is still recognizable.

“Of course,” 2D says without missing a beat. The other seemed to smile at his answer before thrusting it into his hands.

“Then here, you take it,” the man says. “For good luck to you and your friend.”  

2D stares down at the lighter in his hand. 

“There you are! Where the bloody hell have you been?!”

Two heads whip up to see the sight of an irritated bassist clad in a familiar green outfit of a biker jacket, trousers, and cuban-heeled boots stalking towards them. 2D shoots an apologetic look at the janitor, who flashes him another one of sympathy before wheeling his mop bucket away. Murdoc barely gives the janitor a second glance before turning on 2D.

“Why are you talking to random blokes in the hallway? I told you to stay in the lobby!” Murdoc chides, exasperation evident in his voice. “I have the keys with me. Can you please stop wasting our time so we can go?”

“Look, Muds,” 2D says, disregarding Murdoc’s words. He flicks the lid of his lighter open and watches a blue-yellow flame sputter to life. Definitely not broken. “I found it.”

Murdoc eyes the lighter with a disgruntled expression. “Didn’t you say you lost that? Did you really leave to—”

“Have you heard from Noodle yet?” he asks, toying with the lighter in his hands.

A split-second of silence, which 2D could now interpret as Murdoc's hesitation before he told his lies.

“No, not yet. My mobile’s off, so—” 

“I have.”

Murdoc sputters. “What?”

“I've heard from Noodle. She replied to my text while you were away.”

Murdoc reels back from 2D the second he makes the realization. 

“I told you to leave the talking to me. Why did you—"

“I texted her before you said that. Did you think I’d stand around doing nothing while you were gone?”

“What? I asked you and you said you didn’t talk to her!” he grits out when he finally regains his senses.

“And you said she’d join us later. She didn’t even know we were supposed to go out today.”

“Maybe she forgot,” Murdoc tries.

“She didn’t. I saw a screenshot of your conversation with her. I put together the pieces.”

“How— No— What else did she show you?” 

“Not much, but enough to know that you didn't tell the truth.”

Murdoc leaps straight from denial to indignation. “Don’t be a hypocrite. You lied to me too,” he accused. “I asked you if you contacted Noodle and you told me she—”

“I had a feelin’ you were up to no good,” 2D murmurs, shifting on his feet. “So I didn’t tell you the truth.”

A beat of silence.

“You never trusted me, didn’t you?” Murdoc says, phrasing it more like a statement that a question.

“D’you really want an answer to that question?” 2D asks brusquely, keeping himself cold and detached.

Murdoc folds first, shrinking away and fidgeting. “Right. Should’ve known. Didn’t cover all my bases, didn’t I? That’s what I get.” A defeated sigh. “Suppose there’s worse ways for you to find out.”

"The fact that you were more afraid of me finding out than you lying in the first place tells me loads, Muds."

2D holds a steady gaze, feeling a tumultuous mix of emotions for his bandmate bubbling to the surface. Murdoc has long since stopped being an existential threat to 2D, but he's always been such an imposing figure. 2D still finds himself caring for Murdoc's opinion despite everything. Perhaps it’s because of how infectious his influence is. It’s so toxic and pervasive, it might as well be the source of the bassist's irradiated green skin.

Now, he can’t help but think of how vulnerable Murdoc actually was. How dependent the other actually was on him. His lies had backfired and exposed his soft underbelly to 2D. Peeled back the layers and layers of his facade. And in the process, 2D’s figured out the one thing Murdoc was desperately trying to deny: that he was vastly more reliant on 2D than 2D ever was on him.

If 2D left him now and rejoined Noodle and Russel, Murdoc would have no one on his side. Noodle and Russel have long since given up on him. But 2D had been holding onto Murdoc tightly this entire time, which was perhaps the reason why the bassist had been drawn to him— or targeted him. 2D’s the only one with fissures in his heart big enough for the other to worm his way into. Murdoc was unneeded, an unessential, an anachronism from painful bygone times that has managed to overstay its welcome. 

And 2D was the only one keen on not discarding him.

As if on cue, his phone starts to ring in his pocket, its tinny tone dissipating the oppressive thickness of the hallway. 2D breaks his eye contact with Murdoc to read his screen.

NOODLE - Incoming Call

He glances up and locks eyes with Murdoc again, who gives him a knowing nod and a look of silent acceptance.

2D switches off his phone without a second thought.

Murdoc stares at the phone in 2D's hand, his expression morphing to one of growing disbelief.

“2D, what are you doing??”

“We’re still going on the trip.”

“What?” Murdoc mouths the word why, but no sound comes out. “Are you out of your mind? You just said—"

 "Shut up, Murdoc. I'm thinking." 2D clutches the lighter in his hand more firmly, running his thumb along the uneven ridges and the dented edge. 

 Murdoc immediately clams up, eyes trained curiously on 2D's restless movements.

“Murdoc you’re my... best mate. But I haven't been fair to you,” 2D begins softly, when he felt he was ready. “I've never really given you any chances even when we were hanging out together because I never gave you my trust. I haven’t... let down my guard. And I'm starting to get it. You're the same, aren't you? You don't trust me either?"

Murdoc bites his lip and crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to look at his bandmate.

"It's unfair of me to expect the same thing from you when I haven't trusted you myself. We're keeping secrets and telling lies because of it. And it's making us too defensive. If we're moving past this an' making things right, it has to stop. So please. M’giving you one last chance to make this right. Was anything we ever did in the last few weeks… real? Or were you just buttering me up?”

"Real..." It takes some time for Murdoc to respond, but to 2D's relief, he eventually does. “I think... I might’ve overdone the niceties because I was… afraid… you wouldn’t want to hang around me if I didn’t do it. But… I liked spending time with you, 2D. Even if you were unbearable at times. That’s… real. It’s the truth.”

"You want the truth from me, Murdoc? The reason why I'm giving you so many chances is because I care about you. And Russ and Noodle might think I'm gullible for wanting to keep you around, but I can't bear the thought of you not being with me. M’tired of all the fightin’, and the lying, and the backstabbing that we do,” 2D replies honestly, brutally. “I just want us to be proper friends.”

2D’s spent so much time wondering about the veracity of Murdoc’s statements that he’s bypassed placing his trust in the other person entirely. He’s not so different from Murdoc after all—his bandmate rarely trusted other people, including him. And maybe 2D should know better than to give Murdoc another chance, especially when even his intuition told him otherwise, but he just can’t help it. Murdoc’s his... best friend. Someone he wants to look out for. Someone whose company he enjoys. Someone he just can’t leave behind, no matter how irrational it may seem.

Someone he can't  keep out of his mind.

Someone he makes exceptions for.

Someone he writes songs about.

The one he loves?

Maybe someday, he’ll be brave enough to tell Murdoc everything.

But only if the other was willing to listen and open up to him too.

Murdoc's mouth gapes open in response to 2D's confession. His lips start to quiver noticeably, like he was desperately trying to hold back the rush of thoughts that wanted to make its way to the surface.

“I’m leaving it up to you. You’re deciding what happens today,” 2D finishes without waiting for Murdoc's reply. “I’ll ride with you— but everything that happens, anything at all, will be because of you. M'leaving my fate in your hands. I’m choosing to trust you, Murdoc. So I'll ask you, one final time: d’you still want to go on the trip?”

Murdoc visibly hesitates again. He's quiet for so long that 2D starts to believe that his offer would be refused. His face cycles through several emotions in the course of a single moment. 

“I’ll be incriminating myself if I don’t say yes.” Murdoc laughs without humor. “Do I really have a choice?”

“I'm giving you one right now,” 2D responds. “There are a million ways for this to go and it depends on what you do. Does it matter if we ride or not?”

 Murdoc starts to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I suppose it doesn't. Maybe we should go ahead with it, then.”

“Wouldn't want to miss a day with you for the world,” 2D says, returning with his own soft smile. Murdoc turns away from him without replying and starts walking towards the entrance of the hotel in silence.

 2D offhandedly glances out of one the windows before following after Murdoc. It's no longer dark out, but the sky is still as beautiful as ever.  Dawn has come and gone and its sunrise colors have been shed in favor of a brilliant cloudless blue. The pale morning sun was now a halo of searing white high above the gorgeous cityscape of Marrakech. It'll be another balmy day unless the thunderstorm 2D's heard from earlier decided to rear its ugly head. 

In other words, a perfect day to go on a motorbike ride.