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Fuck.
Rick really wanted a drink, right now.
Ughhh. Goddammit.
Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have called Morty bait, even if that was technically the truth. At first, Rick only stayed because he thought Prime would come back. At least, Morty's memories strongly pointed to that possibility. Though, it wouldn't be because of sentimentality. Oh no, more like someone touched something of his. He believed that Prime's ego would force the man to take Morty back when he would've learned another Rick came and took his place.
However, when the man looked through Morty's blown memories, he seriously couldn't believe that Prime was even capable of playing grandpa with the little shit. Prime didn't seem like he was "playing." There was absolutely no way in hell that evil piece of dogshit was being for real. No fucking way. Rick would sooner give up his precious alcohol than believe that menace was being genuine. Rick refused to accept the fact that Prime was a better grandpa than him. That the man who ruined his life was kinder to Morty.
It simply wasn't possible for Prime to even have the capacity to care. Rick had the capacity to care, he just forced himself not to.
But guess what?
He was wrong. The bastard didn't return. Rick fucking knew Prime didn't really care about Morty. Didn't seem that way in the memories, though.
So then, why did he keep Morty around? Well, for one, the idiot could be useful at times, even though he's annoying, whiney, stupid-looking, blah blah. The list goes on and on. And, jeez is the little shit annoying as hell. He just didn't want to admit he got attached.
Always going on about how, "Rick! I don't want to hurt them!" or "Rick! You're being a jerk!" Ugh. It's always Rick, Rick, Rick.
So fucking annoying.
Anyways, he should probably go after Morty. That was pretty harsh, even if the man thought the boy deserved it.
Hm…nahhh. He'll just let Morty cool off. Besides, he has better things to do. Like fixing his trashed distillery because someone fucked it up. And shit, he could sooo go for a drink, right now.
The man does need Morty's help to get a new Grimaldian potato. You know, cause it's the starch for his alcohol. So, it's real damn inconvenient there's only one left in the whole fucking galaxy.
Too bad the little shit's still pissy.
He rrrreally doesn't have the time, nor patience for this emotional talking bullshit. So, like the goddamn genius he is, Rick decided he would avoid all the feelings and shit by injecting Morty with a parasite that eats empathy. A Sympathid. Yup. Amazing idea, Rick. There's absolutely no way things would go wrong.
…
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy.
Whatever. As long as he can get his alcohol, and if the brat gets part of his empathy centers eaten…well he did destroy Rick's distillery. Kinda deserved it. He knew that wasn't true. It wasn't Morty's fault he was a raging alcoholic.
Did he feel bad?
No. Yes.
Oh well, it's not like it matters, really.
Afterall, nothing matters.
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Hah.
Rick admitted that he was a piece of shit. But, who didn't know that?
Morty kind of just accepted that Rick would never get better. That the man chose to be an asshole. Rick even told Morty that he should stop trying to fix him. It's a useless endeavor, since, you know, the man refused to give him the affection and validation the child craved. It's a simple fact that Morty cannot change, no matter how hard he tries, and man, did he try.
The boy really tried. But Rick will always be an asshole.
"I guess that's okay." Morty wasn't sure if that was really him, or just the Sympathid eaten portion of his brain talking.
Oh, well.
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Morty caught the Pokemon pack that dropped from the portal above. He supposed Rick felt a little guilty. Though, the man's guilt doesn't matter. At least, not anymore.
"I wish I could enjoy this." The boy hollowly mumbled. With the Sympathid having completely snacked on his empathy centers, Morty just felt…numb. He's completely emotionally detached, flat. It was like the life was sucked out of him with a giant vacuum. Morty's perfectly aware he should be feeling something, but he can't.
He can't.
And he knows. Morty fucking knows that Rick's just gonna fix up his brain, and then act like everything's fine. Completely fine. Like nothing happened at all. But, to the boy, there's no coming back from this. He's going to carry this with him forever. Just like all the other things that continue to haunt him: the maroon blood staining his hands, the…Jellybean thing, and the memories of his grandpop.
It doesn't matter, Morty.
Nothing matters.