MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH BE WARNED.
Trash
Murdoc's eyes were glazed over in this sort of unaware look of someone who was on the brink of death and had abandoned all hope of being healed. His body was frail, malnourished and sickly from spending so long on that poisonous island, alone with his android. It was his choice, Russel told himself not to pity his best friend and former band mate, there was no way to stop his thoughts of grief and despair as he looked on his soon-to-be corpse. Murdoc had died years ago and only now was his body giving up.
It had been 20 years since Noodle's tragic death, Russel knew that had been Murdoc's fault, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to hate him. He had a lot of really great reasons to hate the Satanist, but now, now he just couldn't. Not after he had spent so long trying to track him down and punish him. The hate had burned off and into curiosity and then it had normalized into part of Russel's daily routine. But there was no searching now, he had found his target and there was nothing to work for.
Murdoc had been hiding the whole time, alone in the middle of the pacific, making a meager living off selling his robots and bargaining with the local crew of pirates. That was probably his downfall, handling all that waste and trash and submitting himself to radioactive materials and chemicals strong enough to burn through platinum. He had done it every day for 20 years, alone, making robotic versions of his former friends and family. He had done it out of shame or guilt or just plain insanity. He had done it and now it was over and he was famous for his robots, not his music or his feelings or the passion he once felt. His sodding robots, a side activity he adopted after the fire of his soul had long since burnt out and he was nothing but a shell.
Russel had found him only advanced stage lung cancer(or something like that, no one was really sure.) had riddled his body and left him bedridden, unable to leave the island or reach out to the people he loved. Murdoc was prepared to die alone; he had started the process already. Maybe he was already dead, Russel couldn't tell from this angle.
The healthier man took a couple tentative steps into the room, afraid of encountering some sort of Edward Scissorhands knock off. He was alone with the fragile shell of a man he once called his best friend. There couldn't be much on earth that was lonelier then that. He wanted to hold him, but he wanted to hurt him but he couldn't bring himself to do either. He stumbled the rest of the way over to the bed (the floor was cluttered and nasty) and sat down on the edge of it, it creaked and moaned under his weight. Russel had always had that effect on furniture, but he had slimmed down as he got older, more brawn then anything now.
He remembered when he first met Murdoc. Russel had been 15 and Murdoc had been 24. It was a young musician's convention in some suburb of London; god knows why Murdoc was there in the first place. The Satanist had sure taken a liking to Russel immediately and he had suspected he was a sexual predator or something creepy like that. Little did he know he'd be kidnapped and illegally transported back England 8 years later. Now he didn't really regret any of it. He couldn't regret it, he owed his life and success to Murdoc. He owed everything and yet he owed nothing, his debts were paid in full. He had paid for them every day.
"R-Rus?" The raspy weak voice confirmed that Murdoc sill had a good once of life in his body. Russel was quite surprised; he jerked his head around to stare down at the huddled form of his friend. Alive, Murdoc was alive and seemingly coherent. Fuck, Russel didn't know what to say or do. Murdoc coughed, his whole body wracked with violent harsh coughs. The green male was almost completely weak, he hardly moved his head. He was bones, like broken glass. Always so broken, increasingly so. Russel did the only thing he knew to do, wrap his best friend up in his arms and give him a soft kiss on this forehead.
"G-God…." Russel sighed. "Goddamnit, you scared me, man."
Russel remembered the first time he kissed Murdoc. They had been alone in a shitty hotel room. Murdoc tasted like vodka and immediately tried to slip his tongue into Russel's mouth. They were drunk, Murdoc maybe a little bit more. They sat on the dirty bed, half naked bodies pressed together, they were honestly too intoxicated to engage in serious sexual activity, Noodle found them cuddling together in the morning and took a bunch of photos. Russel still had one.
They had shrugged it off, but they did it again and again and they did it when they were sober and they did that backstage during concerts. They had chemistry. But it was chemistry that they once had and could never rekindle; Murdoc had ruined Russel's life and now Murdoc was dying. Avoiding cosmic law and taking the easy way out.
Right now they hardly had hardly any time left together. Russel could feel his friend fading, a feeling Russel had only experienced one, with Del. Del had hardly suffered, but everything about the way Murdoc looked hurt Russel. He didn't want to see his friend in such pain, and this time he definitively knew Murdoc was going to leave him and that he couldn't fix him, with Del he had tried to hard to fix him, he had screamed and prayed and did everything, preventing Del's soul from reaching heaven. Russel wasn't going to intervene this time, he didn't want Murdoc's voice in his head for the rest of his life.
"We've been through a lot of tough shit together, but I always thought you'd kill me first, when you're pride actually got to you before I could. Russel carefully adjusted his friend and pressed a kiss to his sweaty bang's, sighing softly. Murdoc didn't respond, he was still, his eyes were shut. His breathing was loud and raspy, his skin was cold and an exceptionally sickly grey-green. He wasn't conscious, Russel was talking to absolutely no one and it hurt when he realized there was no one to share his suffering with. Murdoc was still alive, just barely.
And then he wasn't.
It was quiet, Russel watched him exhale and he didn't inhale again. His pulse was sluggish and then it was still. No pulse at all. Russel was cradling the corpse of his best (and possibly only) friend. It was so sudden. Russel had expected to at least get a couple hours with him, enough time to yell at him, and tell him how much he loved him and tire up other loose ends. But no, no time. Murdoc was gone, it meant just as much as his birth had, it meant nothing. His attempts to make himself something had failed, no one would miss Murdoc, not even Russel.
Russel gently picked his friend up in his arms, being gentle, still afraid of hurting him even though he could no longer feel pain, which was a blessing. It was a starry warm night outside, a great time to put someone to rest, especially someone who spent their whole life wandering the night. Murdoc was gone, no use keeping him around. He should be put to rest where he belongs, so he could resort back to what he was and what he had always been, trash.