Chapter Text
Morty was feeling especially tired tonight. He and Rick had done some crazy shit in outer space again and he was exhausted. He hadn’t gotten a good sleep in a while. He was always waking up from nightmares or being awoken by Rick in the middle of the night to go to a foreign planet. He slowly crawled upstairs and to his bed. He looked at his clock, which read 7:38 pm, and decided to go to bed early. Maybe he would get a decent sleep finally. He plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes.
1:12 am. He awoke suddenly, in a cold sweat. He was having a bad dream..he couldn’t remember what of. All he could think about was his pathetic, miserable life. His only friend was his grandpa, who treats him like shit. His mom is an alcoholic and his dad is an unemployed loser. His sister was a phone-obsessed bully, who would nag at Morty every chance she got. At least she cared about him, though.
Unnerving thoughts spread through his mind like wildfire. He focused on an especially brutal one, where he and Summer were kidnapped by an alien and Beth had to chose one of her children to be saved. With absolutely no hesitation, she chose Summer. She didn’t even take time to think about it. She was going to let Morty die, alone and afraid. But as much as Morty was shocked and absolutely terrified, he could see that Summer had a look on her face. A mixture of sympathy, sadness, relief and surprise. He ignored the relief part and focused on the others. Summer…felt bad? She may not have liked him, but at least she loved him. Morty was unsure that Beth loved him, though. His own mother. His own mother didn’t love him?
Morty could feel a stinging sensation on the back of his nose, and warm tears stream down his face. He curled up under the covers and hugged a pillow. He pretended that the pillow was his mom. The mom that allowed her son to hug her. The mom that made him pancakes for breakfast and got upset when he “forgot” to brush his teeth. The mom that cares. The mom that loves him.
After what seemed like an hour passed by (it was really only about 15 minutes) of him rustling around, sobbing, and trying to get to sleep, he heard faint footsteps walking up the stairs. He sat up and tried listening for who’s footsteps they may be at this hour. Mom? No, she’s most likely asleep or blackout drunk. Dad? Definitely not, he’s never up past 11:00 pm (he likes to get a decent sleep in, even though he just lays around all day). Summer? Maybe…she likes to go out for parties late at night…but it’s a school night, so Morty crossed her off his list too. Rick? Well…it’s the only reasonable option.
He heard the footsteps get louder and louder, nearing his door. He scurried back, fully under the covers, and laid back down, pretending to be asleep.
His door opened so quietly and softly, Morty didn’t even hear it. “Mo-Morty.” Morty jumped, not realizing that Rick was right in front of him. He laid still, eyes closed, hoping that Rick might go away. “Morty…M-Morty I know your awake, I-I’m not a dumbass.”, Rick was so close to his face, Morty could feel his hot, heavily booze scented breath. Morty sat up, shaking.
“W-what do you want, Rick?” Morty said, wiping the excess tears off his eyes. He would usually be embarrassed to show his emotions to Rick, but he knew for a fact he wouldn’t remember this.
“I-Morty y-you need to sh-shut up and stop being a whiny little bitch. I could hear you from all the way down- downstairs.” Morty looked surprised. Was he seriously being that loud? He didn’t know anyone could hear him. If Rick could hear him, then that mean that his mom and dad could to. This made Morty feel even worse. Not because he was embarrassed, but because his mom didn’t care enough to check on him. He didn’t expect his dad to. But, he really liked his mom. He wanted her to like him too, but his mom was often neglectful and never really payed any attention to Morty. He could come home with a broken arm and his leg torn off and his mom wouldn’t give a shit. She knew Rick would fix it, so she didn’t have to care. It was always less work for her, which meant more time to drink and cry in the shower. Morty often wondered if she realized how much pain she’s causing him. If she even realized he exists as a person.
Morty started to sob again.
Selfish. Their all so SELFISH!
“Morty wh-wha-what the fuck are you doing!? I literally JUST told you to stop crying!” Rick yelled, angrily. He didn’t fully know why he was angry at Morty crying, but he was. Maybe he felt guilty…No. Definitely not. “R-Rick…I just wanna go home!” Morty didn’t know what he meant by home. He was home, after all. “Morty, I don’t- we are home you fucking idiot.” Rick said, obviously annoyed. “Shut up Rick, just shut up!” Morty almost screamed, sobbing and shuffling to the corner of the bed. Rick knew what he meant by home, deep down. He wanted his life back. His life before Rick came. When he was little. When his mom took care of him, when Summer played in the backyard with him, when Jerry was…well, Jerry had always been Jerry. It all ended once Rick arrived, he realized.
Beth and Jerry had started fighting when Morty was around 5. Summer stopped talking to Morty and hid in her room all day. She was angry at her parents and was really sad. Morty could tell. It was a big change for all of them. Jerry tried his best to be a half-decent father, but he had always been a screw up. Beth just completely gave up, leaving Morty all alone. No Summer. No dad. No mom. Nobody to comfort poor little Morty, who just needed some affection. He was left to clean the wine bottle’s shattered remains from his mom’s drunken outbursts and do most of the household chores, since nobody else would do them. But they didn’t appreciate nor notice his efforts to be seen.
That is, until Rick arrived. Once Rick arrived, Morty was seen. He was heard. But, not in the way he would’ve liked. He was a burden, and his voice always made everyone mad at him for some reason. He tried to be limited with his interaction, though he’d wanted it for so long.
Morty had eventually fallen asleep crying. Rick stood there for another few minutes, contemplating his decisions and what led him to where he is today, then took a swig from his flask and walked back to his room.