AN: We own nothing. This idea is mine, and the first chapter was written entirely by me. Authorette Stalker may or may not be joining in for latter chapters. And... That's about it. -Authorette Lighthouse
Broken
Blackened eyes stared out the window blankly as the former Gorillaz frontman stewed in his own head. How long had it been since he'd last seen Murdoc? He hadn't even heard from the man until a few weeks before... Not since the night after the Apollo shows back in 2006. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he thought about that night, and what had led up to it...
It had all started the day he'd awoken from the coma. All of the sudden he was sitting in the car with a stranger as the man who had apparently caused both the injury that put him in the coma and the one that had taken him out of it again drove him back home. He had been looking in the side mirror, examining his strange new eyes, when he had seen it... Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, the place where this had all started.
"Pull over," he said, pointing. The man seemed about to protest when he saw what had caught the younger man's attention. Grumbling, he obliged, pulling up beside the store and letting him out.
The store was boarded up and dark, something that confused him. Hadn't the man mentioned he'd been in a coma for the past nine months? How could the place still be closed?
"Wot 'appened?" he asked, turning to the man, who was getting out of the car, "Don' tell me i's been closed this whole time..."
"Nah," the man said, walking up, "Unrelated incident, mate... Someone broke in las' week, I think... Apparently there's still some shit goin' on, tryin' ta ged the winda fixed or somethin' like that."
He nodded, looking at the lonely building. He had the oddest urge to go inside, as if it would help him sort out everything that had happened since that day nine months before... He walked around to the back, ignoring the man who followed a few steps behind him. In silence he retrieved the spare key from the eaves and let himself in, wandering though the familiar place as he sorted out all the vivid images in his head.
"Christ, look at this dump," the man said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "Whoever decided ta rob this place woz doin' 'em a huge favor... Wish it'd been me..."
"Wozn't tha' wot you were doin' when ya hit me the firs' time?" he said, starting to mess with one of the keyboards absentmindedly.
"Well... Yeah, I guess..." the man said, voice trailing off as he watched the man play.
"Ya play keyboards?" the man said suddenly a moment later, taking a step closer.
"Wot?" he said, blinking, "Oh, right... Er... Yeah, I do... Why?"
"'Ow well?"
"Er... Pretty good... Ya din't answer my question..."
"Do you sing?" The man looked almost hungry now, walking ever closer.
"Er... A bit, yeah... Why do you wan' ta-"
"Wan' ta be in my band, mate?"
He blinked. "Wot?"
"My band! I's gonna be a hit, mate, once I find the right people..."
"An'... You wan' me ta be in it... After ya hit me in the 'ead wif yer car... Twice"
"Well, the second time I din't hit ya wif the car, did I?"
"I guess if ya wan' ta split hairs..."
"Look, it doesn't matter... You'd be a great frontman fer my band. Wot do ya say, mate?"
He sighed, looking the man in the eyes. He looked so excited by it all.
"Fine," he said, "Why not?"
In response, the man kissed him. He blinked rapidly for a moment before stepping away, confused.
"Wot'd you do tha' for?" he exclaimed in surprise. The man looked confused himself.
"I... 'Ave no idea..."
The next few months passed by in a blur. First a customer from the shop he'd known for a long time, Paula, had not only started dating him but had joined the band as their guitarist. It was odd though... She'd only started dating him after she'd heard about the band, and wasn't terribly good... He suspected she was just trying to ride their coat tails to fame, but he couldn't find a valid reason to dump her. They also got Russel, an american drummer who was not only brilliant, but had an extensive knowledge of music and rapping ghosts living in his body. They were signed and even recorded their first song, Ghost Train. Everything was going so well... The he found out about Murdoc, Paula, and stall number three.
"Why'd you do it?" he said, confronting Murdoc in the man's winnebago that night.
"Wot're ya talking about, dullard?" the bassist said, rolling his eyes.
"Why'd ya sleep wif Paula?" he said, taking a step in and closing the door behind him.
"Why else? She's a bird, I like birds," he said with a nonchalant shrug... Too casual.
"I fink i's sumfink else," he said, leaning against the wall by the door.
"Fine... She woz a rubbish guitarist an' I wanted ya ta dump 'er so we could ged rid of her."
"Good reason, but tha's not it," he said, shaking his head.
"Wot the hell, faceache!" he exclaimed, advancing with a look of irritation, "Wot do ya wan' me ta say, hm? Wot do ya think the real reason is?"
"I fink it has sumfink ta do wif tha' kiss you gave me," he said, his soft voice seeming to reverberate endlessly in the space between them. The older man looked taken aback.
"Yer smarter then ya look," the man said after a few moments, voice low, "Awright, ya wanna know the real reason, mate? Yer too good fer her. Yer... She was jus' tryin' ta ride yer coat tails, mate! She din't even like you! I've been havin' ta practically fight 'er off since day one!"
"And ya wan' me fer yerself," he said softly.
"Damn right I wan' ya fer myself!" the Satanist exclaimed without thinking, realizing too late what he had said.
"Forged I said anythin'" the older man said quickly, backing away.
"No."
In the space of a few moments and steps, everything changed. He kissed the man who'd hurt him and fascinated him, pulling him closer. He never did know what it was that had possessed him to do that... The small amount of alcohol in his system at the time, some pent up emotions, or both? Who knew... All that was certain was the kisses growing feverish as he was pulled toward the bed with the purple sheets.
The next morning he awoke tangled in sheets and skin, wrapped in the bassist's arms. He was sore, satisfied, ashamed, content, and confused... What had come over him? What was going to happen now? He was answered quickly.
"Ged out," the bassist said roughly, throwing him out, embarrassment and confusion in his own features, "An' don' tell anyone about this... Ya do I'll beat ya within an inch of yer life." He ran to his room, not daring to ask questions for risk of being spotted. It had been a shameful moment. And yet...
Throughout their entire career the confusing 'relationship' continued. Every so often they'd end up in bed together, adding yet another instance to the growing list of things they didn't talk about. And, over the course of the years, he began to realize he felt more then lust for the older man. It started happing more and more often, and each time he felt less and less ashamed and confused by it. It all came to a head the night after the Apollo shows...
They were having sex in the hotel room, something now typical of nights when they were alone together. In the heat of the moment he said something, something he'd been thinking for awhile but hadn't thought he'd say...
"I love ya Muds," he panted, eyes widening when he realized what he had said. The other man looked surprised, hesitating for a moment before continuing. He tried not to let it bother him... Maybe he was just waiting until after. But even when they were both spent some time later, laying in a sweaty heap of limbs, the bassist said nothing. Every second that the older man didn't say anything, he could feel his heart ache a little more. He thought he'd bring it up the next morning, but when he woke up, the other man was long gone without a single word of goodbye. He had cried then, one of the few times in his adult life. He couldn't help it... The pain in his chest was just too unbearable. So he'd weeped, deciding then that he'd never let the man hurt him like that again.
He didn't hear from the Satanist again until a few weeks before, when he'd gotten a phone call out of the blue.
"'Ey mate!" the familiar voice said with uncharacteristic cheerfulness the second he'd picked up, "Jus' the man I woz lookin' for!"
"Wot do'ya wan', Murdoc?" he asked with a sigh.
"Wot do I wan'? Common mate, don' act like tha'..."
"Jus' tell me wot ya wan'," he said, getting a bit impatient.
"Fine. I wan' the band back tagether... I've got a bran' new studio..."
"Wot happened to Kong?"
"Er... I burned it down fer the insurance money... It woz fallin' apart anyway. 'Sides, the new place is ten times better, an' on our very own island, an' a lot of great material already written... Wot do ya say, mate? Ya ready ta live the life of a rock star again?"
"No."
"Wot? Wot're ya sayin' mate?"
"'M not goin' wif ya, Murdoc. I've had enough of you an' all tha'... 'Sides, I 'ave my own life now."
"Wot, workin' fer yer dad again?"
"No... Well, yeah, but only on weekends. 'M gettin' a law degree."
"Really? Tha's surprisin'... Come on, mate, don' say you don' miss it..."
"I do, bu' not enough ta deal wif you again."
"Look, if this is 'bout wot 'appened after the Apollo shows..."
"'M not talking about it, Murdoc," he said quickly, "No means no."
There was a long pause. "You'll come 'round," he said gruffly before hanging up.
Several similar calls happened over the following weeks, and he said no every time. He wasn't going to let it happen again... The man had broken his heart, and it was still aching... He would not let it happen again.
Suddenly, the man changed his tone.
"Look, mate," the bassist said in the latest call, "I've been thinkin' 'bout wot ya said an'... Look, 'm going ta London tomorrow ta look at a flat. Come an' talk ta me, maybe we can work somethin' out..."
It was surprising, hearing the older man willing to compromise like this. "Awright, I'll meet you there," he said grudgingly, "Give me the address..."
And so he was here, in the mostly empty flat, looking out the window as he waited for the man he hadn't seen in years, who had broken his heart. Why was he doing this? Why was he seeing this man again?
Suddenly, he smelled something odd on the air. He sniffed, trying to figure out what it was... Valium gas? His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Murdoc, he thought as he started to fall foreword, What've you... Done this... Time...?