Work Text:
The phone is ringing... ringing... ringing.
"Hello?"
It's not a phone call. It's the alarm. Why do I have an alarm at... 11:23 am? I dunno. It's caused my head to start pounding, ruining any chance of going back to sleep I had. I turn my alarm off, and the screen returns to my wallpaper of Paula an' I. She took the picture. I'm shit with taking them.
Get outta bed.
Pop pills.
Sniff myself... I need a shower an' change my clothes.
"Stu, what do you think of the sound of this?"
I listen to what Noodle's playing on the mixer. The alarm from earlier was for me to help her in the studio. I zoned out in the shower because the next thing I knew, she was pounding on my restroom door, screeching that it was 12:15 p.m. and she had plans for later in the day. I didn't want to keep her waiting, so now I sit here with my hair dripping down my back as I try to focus on the sound.
It sounds garbled.
I know what I'm hearing is deceiving me 'cause Noodle would never call garbled noise music. The more I try to tune into the music, the more my left eye starts to shoot stabbing pain. I close my eyes, hoping that'll help. It doesn't. It just gives the pain a colorful form behind my eyelids, and that in itself is nauseating. I open my eyes and look for anything to fix my gaze on. Anything but Noodle 'cause she doesn't like people starin' at her. "Can you play it again?" I surprise myself as my voice comes out as a whisper. Noodle let out an annoyed huff as she stood up. "I'm going out for a smoke break. When I come back, I hope for your sake you're better." I watch Noodle leave, sigh, and run my hand through my hair, shocking myself when I feel cold wetness. I step out and go into an empty room nearby and towards its restroom.
I splash my face with cold water.
Pop pills.
This is what she meant, right? To get myself better, I take what I need to get my head right.
I feel a gaze on me. It's staring a hole into me, and it's initially what woke me up (when did I fall asleep?), and as I sit up, I rub my eyes with my hand, and I hear giggling. I can't help but smile.
"What's so funny, Nina?"
"You. Your hair looks like a tumbleweed."
Nina goes to my restroom and comes back out with my brush. I stiffen as she sits beside me because I know she wants to brush my hair, and I just can't deal with that. Not today, but I knew my hair must be a tangled mess if she commented on it. I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the all too familiar sharp tugging pain to come, but it doesn't. Instead, I feel soft lips press against my cheek.
"It's okay, Stu. I'll try not to hurt you."
Right. Nina's washed my hair before. She knows I hate having my hair messed with. I feel a dull pain in my left eye, and I should really take some pills, but I don't want to worry her, so I nod and shift around so I'm sitting in front of her. I can feel her putting my hair into sections and then taking hold of one and starting to brush it from the bottom. She goes in short little strokes, but even though she's not tugging, I can feel the brush tugging away at the strands of my hair with each stroke. I can't help but wince. All I want to do is just get away, but instead, I ball my fists into my lap. The brush is getting closer to my scalp, heightening my anxiety because the closer it is to touching my scalp, the more I can feel the prickly bristles of the brush. The pain in my eye is now radiating to the rest of my skull, making me wish I could just yank my eye out in the hopes of stopping the pain from spreading. As soon as I feel the bristles touch my scalp, I jump away from her and run into the restroom.
The restroom is eerily quiet, but I feel like I can hear my heart beating in my ears. Nina knocks on the door, and the way her voice sounds so soothingly gentle makes me feel guilty.
"Stu, it's okay. Maybe we can try wetting your hair and combing it instead, like last time. Would that be better? No brushes this time."
I look at myself in the mirror and can finally see why she's insistent on fixing my hair. It looks like one giant, knotted mess with little hairs sticking out everywhere. I let out a defeated sigh, as I know I'm not getting out of this.
I take a deep breath.
Pop pills.
I opened the door and let her inside.
Murdoc and I are watching the telly in his room while sitting on his bed. It's nice hanging out with him despite his room being on the whole other side of the hotel, but that's okay. I don't mind the walk. I just wish we were watching something else. I haven't been paying attention to the movie as there's too much talking. I look over at Murdoc, and he's fixated on the movie. I don't mean to, but I let out a huff and look back at the screen. It doesn't help that the movie is in black and white.
It's just utterly boring to me.
I look down at our feet, and it's amusing how large mine are compared to Murdoc's. I scoot a foot close to his, glance at him (still watching the movie), and then gently bump my foot against his. I do this a few more times.
"Stu, if you don't quit hitting me with your foot, I'm going to hit you with my fist."
I huff as I go back to watching the telly. Do these actors do anything more than talk? I look back at Murdoc, and he's back to focusing on the movie, but now he has a scowl. Oh, Murdoc, and your ever-present scowls. I don't even realize I'm doing this until I feel his skin as I'm poking his cheek. He glances at me but goes back to the telly. I can feel myself smiling as I go back to poking his cheek repeatedly until Murdoc swiftly turns his head and chomps down on my finger, causing me to yelp.
"You bit me!"
Murdoc chuckles, "You were prodding the bear. What did you expect?"
I shove him. Bet he didn't expect that, but he shoves me back, and the next thing I know, we're wrestling on his bed. I would say we looked like a ball of flying limbs if anybody was watching us. I feel us fall off the bed, and I end up smacking my head on the floor. Immediately, my head starts to throb, the pain radiating from the back and going all over. I lie there with my eyes closed, trying to will the pain to go away, and I hear him snickering.
"That's what you get, wanker."
Of course, Murdoc would say that. I hear his feet shuffle and then his bed creak as he gets back on it. Throughout this, those people in the movie are still droning on, and I have to wonder whether they were bored playing the roles they were assigned to them 'cause it seems like they can't muster an ounce of enthusiasm for their roles. The pain feels as if it's on high alert throughout my head, and I know what I need to do.
I go to Murdoc's restroom.
Pop pills.
I get back on Murdoc's bed and rest my head on his shoulder. I'm in no state to walk back to my room, and I think he knows this as he wraps an arm 'round my shoulders.