It's a songfic. . .
Yeah. I was depressed. So suck it.
I don't own this song or Gorillaz. . . the song is Speeding Cars by Imogen Heap.
--
Here's the day you hoped would never come,
Don't feed me violins,
just run with me through roads of speeding cars.
The papercuts, the cheating lovers,
The coffee's never strong enough.
I know you think it's more than just bad luck.
2D sighed, staring into Murdoc's eyes. The silence was uncomfortable, so they occupied their time by adjustiing their fingers again and again on the coffee cups, even though it had long been cold. The rain pittered and pattered on the cafe's windows, like a million tiny hands trying to reach inside for warmth. The both knew it wasn't going to last; as Murdoc had put it, they were "Like papercuts; the sting only worsened." There there baby,
it's just text book stuff,
it's in the ABC of growing up.
Now, now, darling,
oh, don't lose your head,
cause none of us were angels,
and you know I love you, yeah.
"Stop crying," Murdoc commanded, wiping rain from his face. "Just grow up; this is text book stuff. You'll get over me." 2D looked up, his onyx orbs red-rimmed. He sniffed, looking into the gutter. A piece of trash floated down, swirled for a moment, then was swept away again. Everything seemed to be gray. "I won't. I love you." Looking up at the bassist again, his heart practically shattered. "You know I love you, too. But we're. . . too different. Get over me; I'm no angel." He smiled half-heartedly at the joke, but 2D didn't. He just stared up at him as the rain soaked him to the bone. Murdoc awkwardly patted him on the shoulder, kissed him once, then left for home, leaving the quietly sobbing, heart broken young man alone, standing amongst trash and gray. So much gray.
Sleeping pills know, sleeping dogs lie
never far enough away,
Glistening in the cold sweat of guilt.
I've watched you slowly winding down for years,
You can't keep on like this. . .
Now's a bad a time as any.
2D swallowed his pills, laying uncomfortably on his orange sheets. He hadn't bothered changing clothes, so he lay in a puddle, practically made of tears. Murdoc had driven away in the Winnebago, leaving a few half-crushed beer cans where it used to sit. The singer didn't know where he went, nor if he would even be back. That face. That damn face. He hated it, and loved it. Guilt swept over him, despite the fact that he did nothing wrong. He knew it was coming, so why did it hurt so bad? There, there, baby, It's ok by me. . . It's ok by me. . . It's ok by me. . . it was a long time ago.
it's just text book stuff;
it's in the ABC of growing up.
Now, now, darling,
oh, don't kill yourself.
Cause none of us were angels,
and you know I love you yeah. . .
It's ok by me. . . It's ok by me. . . It's ok by me. . . it was a long time ago.
2D stared at the revolver in his hands. It looked so beautiful and comforting in the dim light of his bedroom. "Russian Roulette." he whispered, spinning the chamber. He held it up to his head, biting his lip. Click. Nothing. How fucking lucky, he thought, spinning it once more. What a deadly game he was playing. So, why? Why did he play it? Click. Nothing. Again. No matter how many times, it seemed his escape was so far, but so close. Oh, what a deadly, lovely game. So, why?
There, there, baby,
it's just text book stuff.
It's in the ABC of growing up.
Now, now, darling,
oh, don't lose your head.
Cause none of us were angels,
and you know I love you, yeah.
Murdoc sighed as he drove back. He could see the hill, and already smell the stink of the landfill; he was so close. The rain hadn't lightened up, though. If anything, it got worse. Raindrops pounded on his windshield like fists. Just like in the cafe. Shut up, he urged his brain. He strove to keep those damn thoughts out of his head, but no matter what he did, they pounced back on him, holding him in a choke-hold. Dammit. He needed to get to that kid; to tell him he was sorry; to hold him, to take back all the words. So close. So close. . .
There, there, baby,
it's just text book stuff.
It's in the ABC of growing up.
Now, now, darling.
Oh, don't kill yourself,
cause none of us were angels,
and you know I love you, yeah.
Once again, 2D held up the revolver. Third time's the charm. He closed, a half-smile on his delicate lips. He took a deep breath, then pulled the trigger.
BAM!
He slumped against the wall, his blood splattered against the wall in a sick, twistedly beautiful way. His eyes were closed forever, with that half-smile still on his face. Blood dripped down his pale face to his wet shirt, staining the soft fabric. Yes. Third time's the charm.
Murdoc's eyes snapped open. Two startling, bright lights sped towards him, and the squeel of tyres hit him like a truck.
Oh.
It was a truck.
He realised that too late.
The paramedics couldn't save him. But he went with a half-smile. Blood dripped down his forehead in a twistedly beautiful way.
It's ok by me. . . it was a long time ago.