Fear Itself

Summery: During the night Noodle finds her way to 2D, troubled after watching a zombie movie. Noodle's actions dig up an old memory the singer hadn't recalled in a while, and possibly holds the answer for both of them.

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The room was quiet and cool, the only sense of warmth coming from a cheap heater placed beside the double bed, a large hope that it would keep the bony curled up ball of evolutionized mass from freezing over in the middle of his sleep. The only sounds emitting from the room was the soft buzz of the heater, coughing out luke warm breezes every so often on the bulk of quilts covering the fat lacking male, inhaling with a dribbling sniffle every time the blanket slipped off his shoulder and his skin met with cool air.

A gentle ticking of a watch the singer had removed from his wrist clicked with every second passing, completely drowned out by the heater's groans, but the green glowing screen kept a small portion of the room lit, the bluehead's form of a night light. Sucking in a large sum of air, the man turned with his thin fingers hooked onto his blanket, releasing it unconsciously with pursed lips. Normally when a person was cold they wouldn't go to bed in a lone pair of sweatpants, but Stuart Pot was in a category of all his own and saw no need for shirts to sleep with, although it did seem warmer than bunking without one.

His digital clock flipped its red numbers to twelve forty two, the exact moment when the doorknob to the room gently turned, careful to not make any disturbance until the being was ready to. As a passing shadow, the door was quickly shut, making sure none of the carpark's whipping winds had snuck in along with her. Wiping her feet gently on the fuzzy carpet for cleanliness and warmth, the teenage guitarist of the band squinted a few times, trying to make out shapes in the darkness, relieved that the wrist watch was helping a small bit. He was there...where else would the man be? Right on his bed, curled into a lump of material skin, a few jagged cerulean spikes poking out where a pillow should be.

Suddenly finding it hard to swallow properly, the karate junior bit her lip, her pale cheeks standing out in all the darkness, wondering why she was so afraid of this man. She had known him for a good six years, and even though the contact had been off a year or two, they were still familiar with each other. Very familiar indeed. Curling her hands to her small chest, the violet haired guitarist took light steps, wincing when her weight forced the wood beneath the carpet to crack and wine, heart pounding with each achieving step. Closing her eyes for a moment, the teen involuntarily shivered, the cold already sinking her to the bone, and her hand gently curled against a lump she assumed was the man's shoulder, "...2D?" she whispered, leaning over a bit.

Like the singer, wearing a thin tee and shorts was not exactly proper attire for an icy night such as this one, but again, hardly anything was planned in the manor of Kong. Nothing stirred, nothing moved. Taking a deep breath, the axe princess tried again, leaning closer, "2-2D?" This time, the blue haired keyboardist mumbled a bit of nonsense, adjusting himself slightly and nearly brushing the girl's nose with his. Immediately she snapped away, a bit bashful of the gentle images passing through her mind, but she quickly pushed them out and neared him a third time, her lips mere centimeters from his ear, "C-Can I stay with you...tonight?" Normally because of the closeness, most people would have swat at whoever had just breathed in their ear, but Noodle had said it with such precise timing in her breathing that almost no air escaped her nor bothered the sleep bound man.

A quiet moan answered her question, a muffled sniff following. Unsure what to do, Noodle crossed her arms over her chest, shivering nervously and chilled, "I am...cold..." The lump made no motion acknowledging that he knew another person was in his room, nonetheless wanting to share his bed. That was it, she couldn't take it anymore. Slowly placing her hand on his cheek, the man began to shiver, his spikes facing her going up on end as the cold from her body traveled to his. Scrunching his nose, the bruised rims of his black orbs sleepily lifted, trying to dazedly find where that unbearable frost was coming from. "Noodle...?" he mumbled in a faraway voice, an obvious sign that his eyes were open, but his mind was not.

Stealing her hand back eventually, the guitarist glanced down at her frozen toes, "C-Can I stay with you t-tonight?" Hearing no answer, the girl peeked up, noticing the uneven blinking of the man before her, trying to comprehend what was going on and why he was seeing two worlds at once. Everything was too fuzzy...and voices overlapped. He needed to choose one, and the darkness was warm and welcoming, pulling him back like seduction at its best. Grabbing a bit of the edge of the quilt, Noodle lifted it gently in question, but as if in habit, the young man automatically flipped over and made some room, completely lost in his world of dreams once more.

Settling down with a small smile, the girl was thrilled to have some warmth against her body and it was only until she decided to poke her arms between the singers to pull him close that she realized he was shirtless. Very warm, but shirtless...and she felt a heat rise to her face that she would have rather waited for, but it was too late, the deed was done and his weight was resting on them. Snuggling close, the Japanese teen rested her face in his soft spikes and closed her emerald eyes, inhaling the butterscotch scent she had grown fond of. The smell had always calmed her and set her at peace, but tonight it was different. It settled her fear...just a fraction.

Upon feeling the sudden chill the singer felt torn, coming to with the resentment he remembered generating as a child on a school day, usually a Monday after a long Sunday night, but it wasn't light that was bothering him, and he was thankful for that. It was the cold. Such a horrible cold that his stupid heater couldn't shun out. Like hell Murdoc would turn the heat up once in a while. Perhaps when the heating in his Winnebago went and he had to freeze his ass off like the rest of them. Just maybe. But until then, the three leftovers had to "deal with it." Rubbing his cheek with a weary hand, the singer rubbed a couple of fingers near his belly button with his other hand, wondering why they were so cold. For a moment, he continually ran his fingers over those fingers, trying to keep them from catching frost bite. Then the question finally dawned on him mid-rub with wide tired eyes. Who's fingers were these that were a bit too friendly towards him?

Pressing his hand against this person's, he craned his neck over his shoulder, trying to identify the face covered by masses of hair. Dark...shadowed hair.

"2D?"

The uncomfortable spin in his belly settled as soon as he heard the ringing of her voice, hers as unsettled as his stomach, but she wasn't entirely upset. "When did you climb in in 'ere?" he yawned gently, yet playfully, eyes hurting him to keep open. Lifting her head slightly, she rested against his shoulder with a small smile, "Just now...I hope you do not mind...I...I asked you..." Giving her hand on his chest a gentle pat, he stared at the shadowed keyboards decorating his room, "'course not, love...yo'...deathly cold...yeh know tha'...?" he commented, feeling his spine shiver from the iced limbs curling against his body. Nodding slowly, the girl breathed gently, "Yes...that was part of the reason I came here...I know you bought a heater..."

"Went through my bags, did yeh?"

"...Ano...G-Gomen nasi..." she apologized, a light blush forming across her cheeks. Glancing at what he could see of her from laying sideways, 2D took one of her hands that had been clutching him, gently squeezing each finger and bit of the palm in his way of comfort. Noodle always went back to her first language in awkward positions or after someone had made her feel uncomfortable. The nagging twist in the man's gut had nudged him that he had come across too strong as most people do when half asleep. "So wot's wrong?" he asked quietly, running a light finger up and down her arm, tickling the hairs on his way. "Nothing is wrong...I just...cannot sleep..." she admitted, ignoring the little tickles that made her want to scratch.

"Wosn't...wosn't tha' movie wos it?"

"...Not entirely..."

"I thought yeh said you weren't afraid o' zombies'?"

"I am not!"

A dreariness overtook the singer, lacing his fingers with Noodle's, but loosely, an empty warmth filling his eyes. Sensing something was different, the teen followed his gaze, but there was nothing worth catching his attention save a few pens within a green and black mug.

"Are you sure you want to keep watching this movie?"

The thin ten year old bobbed his head, the blue spikes sprouting from every patch of skin it could. His father had sworn it would eventually work for him. There was nothing more they could do about it. Dyeing it was out of the question, Rachael was against any such thing to continually dye those sky blue roots every two weeks when she didn't even have the time for herself, shaving it seemed too cruel, but leaving it only allowed it to be a mess. A trim would have to do and that was it. Ever since that strange illness took him after fooling around in a tree, his hair began to grow out spiky and blue...and spiky blue it stayed. His mother did have to admit, she loved ruffling those soft blue locks as she did with her tease, "I don't want you up all night expecting zombies to eat your brain."

Rolling his large brown eyes, the boy shoved some popcorn in his mouth, "Dad says I'm old enough! An' I'm too old teh believe in zombies. C'mon, mum, I ain't four!" Sighing lightly, Rachael nodded, "Yes...I know...but your father isn't around the house nearly enough to know what makes you shiver in the night." Glaring at the screen, the future keyboardist ignored the spins of his stomach as a helpless victim was torn apart before his very eyes. He could feel his heart pounding every time they enlarged a zombie's face, his head spin when broken teeth bit through living flesh, his fingers shake as they lifted more popcorn into his mouth in attempts to drown out the haunting groans with his own crunching. In all honesty, his first zombie horror movie was not going well with his inner soul, but he couldn't let his mother know that. He was teased enough at school for his interesting tastes and unique style, he didn't need mama's boy or anything of the sort on top of the list.

Besides, whoever heard of someone being afraid of something they loved? He obsessively read zombie comics, owned shirts, posters, and books. Embarrassing would not even cover the humiliation he would go through if the secret got out. Yet, he would not swallow pride. And so he sat there until the very credits sprung up, having a quick snack, brushing his teeth, and scurried off to bed.

The shadows seemed to move side to side...as if dragging themselves near an intended target...posters seemed more real...almost watching him as he dug his body deeper into his sheets...time dragged on...second by second...and even that was too long. Feeling his throat tighten, the young boy's chest hurt from the excessive pounding his mind was putting it through. "Mum..." he gasped, voice not even in the words...more of a breath being thrown out with mouthed lips, eyes wide with fear. The tree out his window scratched against the glass with the soft blow of the night breeze, the usual calm melody becoming a horrific screech of pain. Someone was in trouble...Stu's neck snapped to the side, swearing he could he uneven breathing, the wind whistling along the grasses outside.

Something was going to grab him any minute...fall out of his closet...drag out from under the bed...just something was going to. He knew it. His bed was shaking, the rattling of the wood against the wall causing him to faintly breathe, unaware of his own trembling body against the mattress. And...his door. It appeared so far away. He would never make it. They would tear him apart the moment he touched the floor. No...he had to...he couldn't spend his night like this. This was past hell. He was bound to have a heart attack if this continued. Biting his lip, the small bluehead nervously kicked off the covers, and took a deep breath. Now he was exposed...and once he turned to get off his bed, he wouldn't have view of the left side or right side of his room. By laying down, he had pure center view, but...

Terribly fearful of closing his eyes, the boy merely blinked a couple of times and hung his legs over the side of his bed, able to hear the blood pumping through his ears. Not good...they liked that. His foot touched the wooden floor, a soft groan answering this action and he was off, now one hundred percent positive he was a goner. Slamming into his door, he fumbled with the knob, about ready to scream his head off if he couldn't get the damn door open, but right when he was near breaking point, the door unhooked, sending the boy frantically racing like a lunatic as fast as his legs could carry him until he made a turn and eyed his parents' room. David was away for the night, working over in the next town to make sure every ride was going smoothly on his newly set up fairgrounds, so only Rachael was occupying the bed which was fine for the boy. Panting crazily, the child could feel the sweat running down his neck, back, and legs, knowing he had to make it to that room. That was the safe haven...the pure zone. There was something about a parent's room that made children feel absolutely safe, but now it was more than that. It was a new destination of freedom.

Bursting through the closed door, Stu watched as his mother shot up with a scream, having him scream in return, but their screams were two very different reactions. Rachael realized her son's was out of hysteria, and shook herself from the scare of the loud noise, mentally and physically ready when young Stu launched himself at her, squeaking and burying his face as much as he could into her neck, lungs on fire from the lack of air. Feeling the security of arms snapped around him made him feel slightly better, but he couldn't shake off the trauma...

"Stuart! Stuart, calm down! Its okay! Calm down! Deep breathes, here take my hand, close your eyes..." she gasped, completely startled at the condition the boy was in. He was deathly cold...and nearly going into a seizure in her arms. Able to pry him off from the strong grip he had, Rachael turned him forcefully and leaned him backwards on her chest, allowing him to squeeze the life from her hand as he allowed her to clutch his chest, motioning for him to take deep breaths and when to release them. His eyes were glued shut, resting his head back against his mother's breast, a small headache starting to form above his eyes. He could feel his pulse beat slowly throughout his entire body, every limb going numb, his mother's breath against his hair, his marble white hand shaking against her increasingly reddening one.

He wanted to cry, but was unable to find the strength to. Opening his mouth, he tried to say something. Anything to make the situation any better, but all that escaped him was broken squeaks and pitched cries, English a new foreign language to him. "Shhh, shhh, shhh..." Rachael whispered, finally cradling him under her wing, "Nothing's going to get you...I'm here, baby...I'll protect you...shh..." she gently coaxed, rubbing the top of his hand with her thumb, "Love...what do you like to do...?" she softly whispered in his ear, but his mind was too boggled to comprehend it. Pecking the top of his head, she cuddled him close, rocking him very slightly. "...Sing Stuart...you like to sing..." The boy slowly opened his eyes, darkness surrounding him, but he felt much safer than he did in his room. Here...his mother was with him...and she could do anything. Combing her fingers in his hair, she leaned her cheek against his noggin, whispering without tune, "All the lonely people...where do they all come from...?"

Taking a deep breath, the boy tried, his breathing still unsteady and he started off squeaky, "A-All the lonely pe-people...whe-where do they a-all belong..." he whimpered, horrified at how horrible it sounded when he couldn't concentrate on music. Shunning his voice out, he shook his head darkly, hiding his face once again in his mother's shoulder, not wanting to continue with anything. Rubbing along his back, she started again, gently placing tune to her words, "Eleanor Rigby...picks up the rice in a church..." she left off, nodding her chin on the boy's blue locks, hearing a muffled, "...where a wedding 'as been..." With a small smile on her face, Rachael gave him a restricting hug, forcing him to sit up a bit, "Lives in a dream."

"Waits at the window," the blue headed child sniffed, and his mother continued, "Wearing a face that she keeps..."

"...in a jar by the door...'ew is it for? All the lonely people...where do they all come from? ...All the lonely people...where do they all belong?"

The room was held in a comforting silence, both mother and son clung onto each other quietly, the fear finally tearing away from the young child's soul. Taking a deep breath, Rachael patted his cheek softly as he dared to actually face her after she had warned him about his active imagination during the night, but his mother wasn't the type to scold when comfort was in need of mental scarring. She was one to clear the mess and leave discussion for another day...or month. "Let's have a nap, hm?" she smiled, playfully pinching his nose before covering them both in her quilt, snagging her child close to her as a wolf would to her pup. The boy was no longer chilled to the bone with fear, but warm with care and security. "I love you, Stuart." she whispered gently, giving him a slight squeeze before closing her eyes to the sweet butterscotch scent the child loved to chew so much. An exhausted weary smile met this phrase, and with an light exhale, he returned the meaning, "I love you, too, mum..." How could he not after what she had done for him?

"I love you, too."

"...W-What?"

This voice wasn't his mother's...it was different...accented foreignly...the pitch higher in range. Blinking thoroughly, the singer squinted around, taking into account this wasn't his parents' bedroom, bed...and he was no longer a child. No, the somewhat round reddened face lingering over him was not his mother's at all, and the dark violet hair definitely assured this. Eyes halfway closed, the keyboardist pulled on a sleepy smile, "Hm..." Completely unaware of what was going through the singer's mind at the moment, the Japanese guitarist rose her brows worriedly, releasing a small sigh when his dark orbs eventually slugged her way, holding the usual warmth they had lost a few moments ago. The teen's eyes widened when she was abruptly pulled into a thick, tender hug, her cheek pressed up against his bare chest, her cheeks inflamed in rosy scarlet. "2-2D-kun!" she squeaked, positive the singer would be able to feel the quickening thud in her chest.

"Shhh..." he calmed, resting his cheek in her hair. She smelled of flowers on a rainy April day, when the aroma was strong and most didn't mind to get soaked just to enjoy the scent. "S'alright, love...jus' remember tha' nuthin's gunna get yeh...b'cause I'll always protect yeh..." he crooned, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the teen relax in his embrace. Minute after minute passed, and Noodle was almost sure the singer's even breathing proved he was fast asleep, placing a warmed hand on his chest, "But...I am not worried about myself..." Sighing in attempt to rid the upset stomach she had due to all the foul images clouding her mind, the axe princess swallowed hard, pressed her cheek even harder on his chest to comfort herself, sadly staring off, "My dreams...they come for you...I will not let it...let it happen. I refuse...not you..." she whispered, a short squeeze on her shoulder frightening her in the moment. The green emeralds lifted with her head, peeking at the soft, understanding smile the singer had on his lips. "...Me?" he asked in a whisper, slowly nodding down at her, and she shivered a bit, unable to answer. "Me..." he thought, squeezing her lightly, seeing the glow of her cheeks nearly light the space around them. He carefully released her, staring at his ceiling and suddenly wondering if his bedroom door was locked. Zombies did have a way of finding their way into the carpark...

Scooting down and turning so he could whisper in her ear, the singer breathed lightly against her neck, sending chills down her spine, "Let's make a deal..." Swallowing nervously, the violet haired junior hesitantly turned her head, nose to nose with the man, "Deal?" Wrapping an arm around her waist, the thin spikehead curled up against her, "You save me...an' I'll save you. Sound good?" Jittering her head up and down, the girl's nose rubbed against the singer's unintentionally, having them both color a bit, Noodle just adding onto the color she had already consumed in. "Yo'...erm...yo' stayin' 'ere tonight...righ'?" the blue haired questioned shyly, listening to the buzz of the heater humming straight through the air, and Noodle bit her bottom lip, answering with a quiet, "If allowed..."

Smirking, the singer adjusted himself on the bed, making a little more room, "'en I suggest yeh cuddle up. The spaces between us are makin' me cold." he remarked playfully, watching the nerved emotions run through Noodle's face while slowly nuzzling closely, enjoying both the warmth and the opportunity. "Er...before yeh get too comfortable..." the man mumbled gently, nudging her arm with his finger, "...Did yeh...lock the door?" Noodle released a soft giggle, nodding, "Yes I did. But had I not come down, you would have been susceptible to a zombie attack. You must remember to do that. Something could have happened." the growing teen yawned, comfortably warm in the singer's sleepy embrace. Glancing at his door over the girl's head, the blue head smiled, mumbling into her hair, "I don't fink I will." Looking down at the heater, Noodle felt the corners of her mouth tilt downwards, a sadness filling within. It was the way the young man had said this that had depressed her.

"...W-Why not?" she sighed, clutching him close. "Because," he dazedly grinned, pecking her ruby cheek, "I know someone cares enough teh check up on me in the middle o' the night." The axe princess peeked at the singer through her bangs, much happier that she was here protecting him, being comforted, and gaining affection all at the same time. "Let's 'ave a nap." the thin man cuddled, pulling the quilt over their scrunched bodies as much as he could. "...Would yeh like me...teh sing for yeh?" he asked quietly, eyes calmly closing to the fight of sleep. "...No," the teen answered, nuzzling him happily with a small smile, "I am already listening to a rhythm I can sleep to." And with that said, the two slept soundly, the hum echoing in the room, the breathing light and funnel, and the door safely locked.

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Author's Note: EY! Oneshot! And SAT testing tomorrow morning for me. What am I doing typing this at ten at night? I'm crazy, and my mind is boggled, that's what! I liked typing this. It hit me like a truck, I just had to type it.