Work Text:
Papers were scattered all over the ping-pong table I was sitting at, and the floor was littered with old magazines, beer cans, and cigarette butts. I’d nearly given up hope at that point. The whole album was rubbish, and there was no money left. 2D had left a few loose pills on the table. Painkillers, probably. I picked one up between my index finger and thumb, twirling it around in my hand before putting it in my mouth. Why not? Instead of swallowing it whole, I bit down. Hard. I barely felt the bitterness on my tongue as the capsule was crushed, releasing the powder inside.
“Shit,” I muttered, slowly trudging towards the stairs. I watched my feet as I ascended, seemingly without my control. I don’t know what I had planned to do, but I was interrupted by 2D sitting on the staircase, lighting a joint. “Can I have a hit?” I asked.
“Go fuck yourself,” 2D replied without even looking at me.
“You know I wasn’t really asking,” I warned, shooting him a glance that told him you better watch your tone.
“I paid for it, Murdoc. If you want some weed go call someone or something,” he muttered.
“With my money, you idiot!” I snapped at him, swiftly bending down and ripping the lighter from his hand.
“Aw, Murdoc come on,” He whined. Dumb bastard with a dumb voice. I sat down next to him, and put my face close to his.
I put the lighter between our faces, and flicked the trigger until it lit. Simultaneously, I gripped his shoulder with my other hand, digging my grimy, overgrown fingernails into his shoulder.
“Everything you see here is mine,” I said in a low voice, “So be on your best fucking behavior,” I stood up and turned around, my back now facing 2D, “pussy.” I threw the lighter back to him, and turned my head to watch it hit his face with a satisfying clunk, and began to continue up the stairs. I thought that was the end of it, I truly did. He’d never fought back much more than that. But not that time.
I felt bony hands wrap around my neck from behind, and he had a surprisingly strong grip for a malnourished druggie. I began to sputter and gasp for breath, and my hands clawed at his fingers. Looking into his eyes, I expected to see malice or even contempt, but all I saw was fear. Fear for his life, maybe. Or fear for mine. In one panicked motion, I grabbed my switchblade from my back pocket and swung at him.
A cold, blood-curdling scream filled the room. I had fallen to my knees, but quickly got back up to keep my eyes on 2D. I’d slashed him in the side, and he was doubled over in pain. Still, he managed to spit out, “You don’t,” he gasped, “control me.” Without a second thought, I punched him in his bloody side with all my might. He screamed again, and fell to the floor in a fetal position, hands clamped against his side. I rolled him over with my foot to face me, and he whimpered as I did so. I stood directly above him, “You’re nothing,” I told him, spat in his face, and turned around to walk back up the stairs.
“Gurinman,” a tiny, scared voice trembled. Noodle was standing at the top of the stairs, able to see everything. Her juvenile body was shaking, and tears were running down her cheeks. Before I could say anything, she ran back to her room as fast as she could. The door was locked.