Chapter Text
It was an early (or so he thought) gloomy, day at Kong Studios when Stuart sat up from his bed. “Eughh…” He immediately grabbed his head, temples throbbing. He could taste the remnants of sleep on his tounge. He swung his feet over the edge of his bed. He sat for a moment, staring at the wall, swinging his long, lanky legs.
He sighed and brought himself to his feet, reluctantly so. Stuart walked over to his dirty, unorganized, bathroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled down his sweats and relieved himself of his aching bladder. He flushed the toilet, washing his hands halfassedly. 2D opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. He popped three or four capsules and chased them down with water. He never usually kept count of how many he actually took.
Stuart stared at his black voids of eyes for a moment. He blinked slowly, examining his face, scanning over scars and freckles, etc. He sighed heavily and stood up straight, fixing his posture as he walked through the door. He walked down the stairs, finding Noodle sitting in her box, which she held very dear to her. “Morning, Noodle.” 2D called with a smile on his face. Noodle looked up to see 2D smiling at her lovingly. “Good morning toochie!” Noodle called back happily. She was often exuberant when talking to 2D, no matter the circumstances. Stuart looked at Noodle, the girl the band has raised since she showed up at their door in a FedEx crate, and realized how far they’d come, even in a small period of time.
2D snickered at himself, noticing Russel had been on the couch reading the newspaper the entire time. “Hey Russ,” 2D said, facing the kitchen counter, pulling a mug out of the cabinet. He then grabbed a teabag, putting it into his cup and putting a pot of water on the stove. He looked at the box from which the teabag had been stored in and looked at the ingredients, even though he couldn’t pronounce half of them, he often did this when he was bored or waiting. Read instructions or nutritional facts on things. He did it subconsciously, he always had, he had picked up the habit years ago when he struggled with eating. He still did now, but it was less, not by much, but it was improvement. Right?
The shrieking of the kettle snapped him out of his thoughts, he put the box down and poured his tea. He sipped at it, burning the tip of his tongue. He hissed at the hurting sensation, and let the tea cool down on the counter. He looked around the room, his head tilted to the side. “Ey, has anyone seen Murdoc?” 2D asked to no one in specific. Russel looked up, tearing his eyes away from an intriguing headline in his newspaper. “Ehh, he’s up in ‘is room, man, hasn’t come out all morning” Russ shrugged as he looked at 2D. “Hm.. I s’pose it’s early for Muds.” He shrugged, considering the bassist had been drinking quite a bit last night. He looked at the floor for a moment before walking towards the studio, opening the soundproof door, switching on the light without much thought. Stu sat down in a chair and looked over some new sheets of paper he reckoned Murdoc had wrote down and forgot to take to his room.
He looked over the music, messy handwriting and scribbled out verses apart, it looked like a nice draft. 2D raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them at a spelling he clearly knew was wrong but couldn’t understand it either, he shrugged and kept reading. Though he didn’t have a beat, he tried to see the bassists envisioning. He sang softly, trying to work out the rhythms. He looked away and put the paper back in the pile as he pulled out his keyboard, when he had nothing to do, he typically practiced old songs or just made a bloopy noise for the fun of it. He played Dirty Harry, he quite enjoyed the part. He sang along to his notes, playing them with ease. He giggled when he finished the song, he sat down on the couch and lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag. He exhaled slowly, making small, uncoordinated smoke rings.
The door creaked open, 2D’s head shot up, looking at the door silently. Murdoc walked in, tripping over a beer can. He stretched, raising his arms above his head, sticking his tongue out of his closed mouth. He rubbed his eyes and noticed 2D. He blanked for a moment before nodding to him. “Morning, face ache.” He said gruffly, sleep still infiltrating his vocal system. ‘Good thing he wasn’t the singer.’ Stuart thought as he waved back, speaking as he held smoke in his lungs. “Mornin, Muds.” He said before blowing the smoke out towards the ceiling. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the cobweb filled ceiling.
2D looked forwards, his eyes following Murdoc as the ravenette walked over to Ẽl Diablo, his beloved bass. Stuart lost track of Murdoc’s figure and stared off into space for a moment. “Ehhyy… you a’right, mate?..” Murdoc said awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He hated being alone with people, even if it was Stuart, the man he ran over twice, he hated it. He despised of it. He shifted again, waiting for 2D to answer. “Uh- Yeah? Why? Somefing on my face?” He asked, wondering what brought on the question. “No, you’re looking at the wall like it’s a pack of smokes and you’re sober for two weeks, you moron.” He rolled his eyes and slung his bass around his neck. “You gonna leave? Or watch my glory?” He smirked, watching Stu put his cigarette on the ashtray next to him. He stood up and stretched his arms in front of him, interlocking his fingers and pushing outwards to crack them. “Yeah my tea’s gettin cold anyways!” He said, suddenly remembering his tea he made almost twenty minutes ago. Murdoc watched with an annoyed expression, though it was just his resting face. 2D walked out and closed the door behind him, waving absentmindedly.