"...Makin' music is..."

Pause.

"...is a long an' tirin' process, y'see. When y'fink y'done, y'not. Simple as 'at."

Earlier...

Long fingers danced skillfully across the keys, alternating between black and white. So majestic was the sound emitting from the melodica that the man who wielded the instrument fell into a daze as he played. Eyelids drooped heavily, half-concealing the glazed over, blackened orbs in the singer's thick skull. One could say that the blue-haired British superstar had an addiction to music. When he wasn't busy enduring abuse from his mentor, high as a kite off his painkillers, or drunk off his ass from an obviously too large amount of alcohol, 2D was in his room, fixated on creating new musical pieces.

It was a combination of this hobby and also his spite towards his captor/best (and only, unfortunately) friend that resulted in the creation of The Fall. Said album was always said to be the most disappointing collection of garbage ever put out by Gorillaz. Well-known among the virtual band's mass of fans are the threads on forums and pages on Tumblr simply dedicated to trash talking the album. Prominent among these unhappy people was of course none other than the creator of Gorillaz himself: Murdoc Niccals. The bass-wielding immortalist never did approve the production of the album. Hell, he hadn't even had any prior knowledge of it!

'It was all Faceache's idea!' Murdoc would repeatedly post in response to the haters' threads, specifically the ones that targeted him, personally, for 'allowing such a monstrosity to ever be concocted in the first place.' He didn't know how or why he did it, but Murdoc knew that 2D somehow put together the album and got it to their label without him knowing. Again, Murdoc didn't know how that was possible. After all, Stuart was kept under constant watch: if not by him, than by the giant whale that patrolled the underwater area around 2D's bedroom. Of course the Satanist simply had to lock the poor guy in the basement, underwater, constantly under surveillance by his (quite literally) biggest fear.

Maybe, Murdoc had figured, The Fall was Stuart's revenge.

Stuart smirked around his mouthpiece as he remembered Murdoc's reaction to hearing the album being played on the radio. His whole body had frozen up as the words came over the station, all fuzzy and broken: "Next up, we have some new content from Gorillaz! This is 'Revolving Doors,' from their new album The Fall!"

Oh, it was priceless.

Even the umpteenth bruise 2D received on his thin body, the bloody and busted lip, and black eye were all worth seeing the look on the bastard's face. 2D had indeed created the album to anger Murdoc, but also simply because he loved creating music. After all, he thought it to be fair, considering how Murdoc wrote most of Plastic Beach on his own. In Stu's opinion, it was only right that he got to make an album as well.

Now the pretty face of Gorillaz was seated on his bed, legs folded Indian style, lost in the melody he was playing on his beloved melodica. Said melody did not officially exist in any track known to man, and it was unique. Each note was chosen at random, the softness of the tune varying as the tune got more or less intense. It was in this position Murdoc found Stuart, as he cracked open the steel door to the vocalist's room.

At first Murdoc thought about scaring the twit. A simple 'Ey, Faceache! and the poor singer's eyes would turn white with fear from the shock. However, even someone as coldhearted and sadistic as Murdoc Niccals couldn't bare to be the one to end the sight before him. Something about the moron making music was actually quite... beautiful.

Mismatched eyes narrowed as the Satanist internally slapped himself.

Beautiful?! Oi, what are ya, a fag?! Get a grip on yourself!

As the bassist mentally scolded himself, he failed to notice that the situation before him was rapidly changing. Stuart had put down his melodica, and for a moment he just stared off into space, thinking about goodness knew what. Then he turned his head, then his body, and swung his legs over the side of his bed. The bluenette stood, causing his raven-haired specter to swear silently as he finally noticed the git was on the move. Murdoc was about to duck out of view, not feeling up to an argument over whether or not he was staring at his singer, but he paused when he noticed Stu wasn't looking at him.

In fact, 2D seemed completely oblivious to the older Brit's presence. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring up into some random corner of the room for a good long while. His face was blank, so it could be assumed he was once again lost in his thoughts. The dullard just sat there, mindless, and for a moment Murdoc wondered if he had broken himself. Nothing could've prepared the Satanist for what happened next.

Out of absolutely nowhere, 2D suddenly - without any trace of emotion of his face - reached down to pull his shirt up over his head. The singer's pale, thin torso was completely exposed to the bassist's widened eyes. Before Murdoc could even think about running the Hell away (before more clothes were removed), he was forced to suck in a breath and froze in his spot. In one, simple, determined motion, 2D had permanently shattered Murdoc's image of the ninny as a clueless, clumsy, useless fool.

Stu had shoved his hand in his own pants. A sudden relieved exhale left 2D's lips as his hand- OhSatanWhatIsHisHandDoing-

Finally Murdoc gathered the strength-err, common sense-to look away from the sight. Though he never would've admitted it to anyone, the bassist's cheeks were rapidly heating up, and the image of 2D - stupid, mindless, mentally challenged Stuart fucking Pot - touching himself was burned into his mind. Permanently.

If Murdoc wasn't in the situation he was in, he would've groaned in frustration and disgust. Instead, he did something that the Murdoc Niccals in his right mind (or at least his typical mind) would've never done. He leaned back in the doorway for another peek. The sight that greeted him almost made him gasp out loud.

Stuart had apparently gotten tired of the constriction that his jeans caused, for they (along with his briefs) were now on the floor. 2D was stark naked, facing Murdoc, masturbating. The sight didn't shock the bassist too terribly much. Sure, the idiot was about as smart as a sack of potatoes, but he definitely was not innocent. After all, Stu did have a girlfriend at least once before. That Paula was a kinky bitch, too, so there was no was 2D had any less dirty of a mind.

What did shock Murdoc was how 2D was masturbating.

Of course there was one hand whose fingers were firmly wrapped around his cock, furiously stroking it to full hardness. The other hand, however... Well, it was surprising, to say the least. Instead of maybe fondling his testicles or simply leaning back on the mattress with that other hand, it was quite occupied. Fingers repeatedly brushed over Stuart's nipples, pulling out soft mewls and gasps that sounded like they should be coming from a bird. Murdoc watched the dullard as the latter pinched a rosy bud, earning himself a moan.

Gulping, the Satanist again went to turn away, but found he couldn't. He wouldn't. No matter how sick, disgusting, and embarrassing it was, Murdoc couldn't bring himself to look away. He liked what he saw. His own cock was poking at his trousers, begging to be as free as Stuart's. 2D had his legs spread now, as if placing someone in front of him in his mind. Murdoc unconsciously licked his dry lips with that serpentine tongue of his, absently reaching down to rub at the growing bulge in his pants as he watched.

Just as Murdoc had begun to touch himself, Stuart did something that made the bassist's blood run cold (or hot... or south). With a motion that seemed too sure and experienced, that ensured that he had done it countless times before, 2D popped two of his fingers in his mouth. He sucked on them quite lewdly, humming as if sucking off the digits gave him as much pleasure as his other hand was pumping his cock. Then Stuart reached down and pushed a finger straight into his arse, drawing forth a shockingly lascivious moan.

Murdoc watched - half in horror, half in shock, yet completely enthralled - as Stuart brought a whole new meaning to the term 'Go fuck yourself.' Now 2D collapsed against his bed, writhing and moaning without restraint. It was clear Stuart wasn't aware that Murdoc was watching him, but it was also clear that this was a very bad situation.

Very, very bad.

Shit... Shit, shit, shit!

Murdoc bit his lip as he was helplessly forced to keep his eyes glued on the sight before him. A loud whimper broke him from his thoughts; Stuart must've found his own prostate. Now both sets of fingers were quickening in pace, matching his breathing, which was little more than a series of pants and breathy moans. Murdoc unconsciously leaned against the door and poked his head a tad closer to the sight, imagining himself on top of the dullard. He wanted to stop; he wanted to look away; he couldn't.

Unfortunately, Murdoc had gotten so lost in the sight, the sounds, and the dreadfully dirty thoughts that he leaned too much against his support. Though it was made of steel, the door creaked open a few inches before retreating altogether. The bassist tumbled in the singer's room with a loud "oof!" Now 2D froze, staring - with just as much horror in his dead eyes - into the eyes of a very humiliated, very shocked, and very flustered Murdoc Niccals.