It was getting late and Morty had missed curfew by a couple hours. He missed 5 calls from his mother, Beth. Morty could care less; it's been a while since he's had some fun. Ever since Rick left to negotiate with the Galactic Federation, it's been boring Morty to his core.

As the breeze swept underneath Morty's hoody, he felt a trickle of air sweep up his spine and to his neck. He shivered and whipped out his phone to check the time. It was 1:18. He spotted an empty bench underneath a dull lamp post and jogged over to it. There was a full moon above, and the thick, dense trees were swaying violently. Morty sat down and snuggled closely to the bench as he stuck his arms inside his hoody, along with his phone. He started to ventilate his hot breath inside his hoody as he scrolled through the messages between Rick and him. He missed him a lot. Morty knew his gross feelings towards Rick were unacceptable, but Rick was barely around.

Rick would always make Morty feel like shit, but Morty enjoyed that along with Rick's angry, incoherent slurs commenting at Morty's never ending questions: What if a Rick, in a different dimension, fucked his grandson? Or What if you accidentally fell in love with me by your love potion. Rick would always respond to Morty's unfazed questions with a smirk, then a grunt. So much to ask, so much Morty wanted to fulfill his secret questionable desires..

A thought snuck it's way through, and Morty knew he shouldn't of went partying at Jessica's house. It was a bad idea, but it felt nice to catch up with her and her friends, but of course there was alcohol. Alcohol was prohibited in the Smith's house. Rick could drink carelessly anyway. He just pressured his bad habits on his grandkid everytime he was around.

That worried Morty if he went home, what would he even say to his mom if she smelled the potent stench of liquor on him anyway? His Mother would blame Rick for his bad influence on Morty and it would devestate him, and surely their adventures would come to an end. Deep down, Morty couldn't risk that. Part of the drinking was true to fact that Rick was intimidating Morty. But of course, Morty would do anything to be around him, even if that meant to hide out. He wanted to isolate himself for a few hours. Morty knew he was going to have a massive headache but he wanted to walk around a bit and enjoy the rush of wind through his short, curly locks of brown hair.

Morty was actually surprised that he kept his hair growing the length it was. About to his shoulder, and he could even put it into a man bun. Some girls would ask him out, which he turned down, some just hung around him like he was a supermodel; Morty had beautiful facial features: plump lips, thickly-shaped eyebrows, and narrow cheekbones.

A few minutes passed and Morty almost fell asleep on the bench. He would be easily mistaken for a homeless person and he had to leave before he would get discriminated or yelled at. Morty got up and walked in the middle of the road. No cars passed through here until 5:00AM, that's when the busy people swing around to and fro from work. He lifted his head and inhaled the air as it swept passed him. Morty's phone vibrated through his sweats and he didn't feel like picking it up. He strode down a couple of rusty, broken-down apartments. They were falling apart and he could hear the cackling of other men near a barrel of fire. The men were throwing bottles of whiskey into the barrel as they caused fire to ignite it more. Morty hurried across the street and skipped to a side walk leading somewhere else so he could brush off the men's laughter. He didn't feel to safe about walking around late at night, but it's worth it at this moment.

Morty checked his phone to find the message from before that he had ignored. It was a number he didn't recognize and there was a picture that showed him slumped into the bench. Morty felt embarrassed that someone had gotten a photo of him. Maybe someone spied on him to show his parents that he is sleeping on benches now, especially him being obviously drunk but slowly sobering. How unfortunate.

It was coming around 2:00AM and Morty decided to head home. He felt nervous as he heard the same men from before as they started to near around a corner that he came to. It was a club called The Jungle. Morty had never seen or heard of it before and he didn't want to get involved in any pesky business that required him contracting a disease.

The trees rattled and swayed as the whispering wind brushed through. The crickets began to chirp and sync together as it built up annoyance inside Morty. A red car with bright headlights blinded Morty and he almost fell back. "Jeez!" Morty shook his head and picked his phone up as he dropped it. Within his peripheral vision, he could spot a pair of tall, slim legs swiftly walking towards him. Morty hurried and started to casually walk across the street to the opposite side walk, trying to cause less awkwardness between him and the vague stranger he could sparsely see through the random fog that began to appear.

"Where are you going, baby?" The deep raspy voice shouted across to Morty. "I was just making my w-way past you." Morty could hear the huskiness in his voice as the man cracked a laugh, following after a head shake. The man continued to walk down the same path as Morty was on before.

"I forgot my home was this way.." Morty trailed off, still eyeing the man. That wasn't true, he knew he had to avoid this guy. Morty's worst fear was to be kidnapped, especially the night he had gotten drunk on. He wasn't himself and he wouldn't be able to cooperate with what they had in mind. Morty always watched documentaries about it, just to unknowingly build up his anxiety. His phone dinged a few times, breaking the eery silence and Morty jumped to the sound as it echoed down the alley he was taking. A couple more pictures of him were being taken and sent to him. "What the fuck?" He said in a low shaky whisper. Now, this couldn't be a spy. Who would show Morty's Mother photos of him walking down an alley instead of him on a bench (which would be more appropriate). His mother would be upset either way. What if it's all a prank?

He remembered he slipped a thumbtack facing the rear side, so the sharp point was facing up, onto Summer's bed. Maybe she got her friends into spying on him. But after Summer's extreme breakdown, Morty had to hide for a few days, which includes him doing so now.

He could text his friend, but it's now 2:35 in the morning and he knew his friend would be pissed to be woken up at that time. He needed more friends, but Morty was never one to make friends throughout highschool. He was always weird and sometimes participated in dramas-which people would consider "gay" in his school. It was tough, and he ignored the labels he was called and made his way without any casualties.

Maybe that's why Jessica liked having him around, he was another one of her "girlfriends". She first invited him to her sleepover with her friends. it didn't seem right: All girls, one boy. All they did was order pizza, prank calls, and the typical things an average 18 year old (girl) would do. Morty attempted to ask her out to the movies one time, but she always made an illogical excuse everytime Morty tried to ask her out. Morty didn't know why, maybe his insecurities were a turn off. That would explain why people would call him gay: His puny effort into asking someone out, so he could hide in the closet. What if they were right?

The gloomy city lights started to appear, and an industry factory was dispensing smog, overcasting the sky with dark clouds.

Morty dozed out of his deep thoughts of Jessica considering him as just a gay friend he assumed. It was upsetting, but the lights distracted him. It looked like flashy Tokyo neon lights. Tall skyscrapers were covered in dim pink lights and neon green flashing: Erotic Dancers on a small black building. The apartments were wide and one had a palm tree that flashed a spectrum of green on the leaves. Morty forgot about this place. Morty and his father would drive by it to get ice cream.

A small wet drip landed on Morty's hand. It had begun to rain and Morty didn't have anything to cover himself as he made his way deep into the city. He should've went to his mother's house, but that wouldn't be smart in his current state.The raindrops pattered and dripped down quickly to something that reflected them off into the crevices and cracks of the muddy road.

A faintly seen man made his way down to Morty with an umbrella. It was the same man Morty could hardly tell. He had the same tight, brown pants, and a long, white cardigan. Morty guessed. This time, in his right hand, he had a white cloth that could be distinctively seen from Morty's perspective. It worried Morty as he could see the tables turning already. The man started to quicken the pace and ran to Morty, kicking mud and water from the ground. Before Morty could retreat or call for help, it was to late.

Author's note:

Hey, loves! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will continue working on more asap. ~I'm a very productive writer.

I went through this 5 times, sorry if you find any typos. I usually skim, but I actually went through this, I hope/think(?).