Plastic Beach: Two Dents and Three Friends

Author's Note: Hello there! Name's Sable. It's been a really long time since I've written any fanfiction but for a long time I've wanted to give Gorillaz some love in that department, 2D in particular, though I love them all dearly. QwQ Plastic Beach stands as one of my favorite albums as far as premise and concept, having such a great atmosphere and touching drama(if a bit confusing going into Phase 4). I've always imagined what it was like for 2D and Murdoc on being pretty much stranded out on an island for a pretty long time working on the album. 2D being stockholmed and kidnapped and held against his will, Murdoc being the crazy abusive puzzle he is. I developed a sort of headcanon over time and have always wanted to translate it over into a story. So here it is! Being back to writing for the time being, I'm hoping to have the next chapter out in a few days.

Blahblah blah, story time!

There was something wrong with today. It crept into the mind, clinging to the walls of the dark and dingy flat. It tormented the one who haunted it these days.

2D had felt it ever since he'd woken this morning, like the shadows in the corners of his room were staring at him. Looming eyes as black as his own, invisible in the darkness. To be very fair, he -had- taken an extra half dose of pain meds before bed with his head having been screaming last night.

It was lingering, however. Hours had passed since he got up. He was sitting in his room on his too-small bed still, half-dressed and still rather groggy as he stared at one of his Casio keyboards laying invitingly against the wall in the corner near the door. The silence was pressing… The way the light was coming through the window seemed dimmer than usual. It touched his back without warmth, without comfort.

All of this was starting to really bother him. He held his thin arms around himself, scratching one of them anxiously. Maybe he should play for a bit, that always made him feel better, kept his thoughts from his head. This was probably another dragging bout of homesickness…

Kong Studios hadn't always felt like the best home to have…a zombie-infested house of terror that was so quickly relinquished by it's owner for the price of nothing that someone would have to be daft to actually choose to live in. For Gorillaz, however. It had become band headquarters, home, and much more than that over he years. To 2D, it felt like his only home now. Returning 'home' to visit his mum and dad never felt right, despite how they still loved him and welcomed him any time he chose to visit. He always felt this restlessness nowadays… a need to leave, wander, move.

Go home…

But home wasn't there anymore… Gorillaz was through. Kong Studios was surely still as empty as he'd left it. He knew it would bring to comfort to go there….

-because his bandmates weren't there anymore.
Not Russel
Not Murdoc
And definitely not Noodle…

Even through the pill-hangover haze that fogged up his head, he could always see the faces and memories that haunted him. It had all been well-scorched into his memory.
The El Manana video shoot…
A blur of panic and terror as all watched the floating windmill island come crashing down into the canyon. What was supposed to be an amazing stunt for the music video ended with Noodle taking helicopter fire…trapped inside. Noodle. Their little sister, heart-shredding, Asian axe princess Noodle.
And everything fell to pieces from there on.
Russel shouting, 2D a shaking wreck, and then Murdoc….Stoic, and seemingly fine with it all.

"Annoying we gotta find a new guitarist—" He had said only hours later.
For 'his band'. Green and yellow-skinned son of a sodding-

2D doubted he had ever felt so angry as those days that followed the incident. Russel was gone first…just a brief note left behind. An apology to the band's singer, and some eerily cold words for the bassist.
2D had still hesitated to go despite his anger, wanting to find a way to put it all back— He knew there had to be a way. But with Russel and Noodle gone, two of the four pieces were already lost. Russel, the caring peacekeeper. And Noodle, loving and down to earth despite everything.
That left the most dysfunctional of the Gorillaz to carry it on. Murdoc, a certifiable headcase who rarely showed any redeeming emotion, and 2D, fragile and dependent despite his best efforts to amend the situation. Even on the worst days back then, he tried to talk to Muds, tried to understand. Murdoc, formerly his best friend didn't seem to give a damn. About any of it. After Russel left, he'd cursed the drummer. He'd made all sorts of threats on the grieving singer, told him if he left too, he'd find him and kill him. 2D tried not to take this callousness to heart, but he was weakened by loss, and became wearier each day of trying. And when he couldn't bring himself to sing or write anymore, Murdoc beat whatever he could out of him to no avail. 2D could cope with the violence in the past, but things had slowly changed…changed him, and he dreaded it.
Instead of fearing him, putting up with it like he always did before—2D stood up. In a fit of delirium and anger that was only inevitable, he was ready to leave-
-when he'd found a note on the counter in the kitchen, an empty bottle of cheap rum smeared and sticky next to it.
Murdoc had left. On a round-the-world binger, he'd said.

All of that trying…for nothing.
So 2D had stumbled crying down those steps of Kong Studios for the last time, nothing in his arms, wishing he hadn't tried. He wished he'd just left as soon as Russel did. He'd wanted to believe Murdoc cared about something other than his vision for 'his ultimate band'…that 2D deserved all of the beatings he was given. That Murdoc loved the band the same way the other three did. That maybe they could pull together what was left, bring Russ back.
But as always, 2D was just too stupid to see through his sugar-coated hopes. That's what he told himself.
He was fully convinced, of course. People were always calling him dull and childish. One in particular, especially.

No matter how he tried to put it all from his mind, at least once a day he felt that ache in his chest, a hollow longing that made him lose his appetite. Occasionally he'd stay inside all day…sometimes he'd still cry. He still couldn't bring himself to sing. He felt empty nowadays…like all his tears were used up for now. He'd wept them all for his family, and not the one waiting at home for him in Britain…

He pulled himself off his bed, not sure how he did it as his lethargic limbs moved him mechanically along, down the hallway. The sun still hurt his eyes despite it feeling so dark in the room so he grabbed a hat-well-what he thought was a hat—off the pile of clothes he only scarcely kept clean. It wasn't as if it was any less of an eyesore than the apartment it lay in.

Lebanon was nice. Beirut was nice….but the first apartment he found upon arriving here was not so nice. He missed Jamaica, having lived there for almost a year…but just like everywhere else these past years, it soon felt stale and stagnant. Even in picture-perfect weather and great culture someone should thrive in, he soon had to leave. He'd gone a few different places, just searching for something that made him feel less lost. Less like one of the walking dead. He was supposed to love, zombies too, something he'd half-heartedly laughed to himself about at some point.

The blue-haired singer was running out of savings at this rate… A fruitful venture it had all turned out to be.
He bit back the bitter sarcasm in his own thoughts. Wasn't helping anything. With the lip of his navy-esque green hat dipped over to shield his eyes from some of the light, he made his way into the tiny living area, stopping to stare out the window as he often did. Not that spacing out wasn't always a hobby of his, but he liked this particular view. There was something about the foreign architecture and bustle of the sparser streets outside that held his fascination so well. So humble and yet so…
…charming. Him being at a stand-still didn't seem so bad when he watched the city like this.

Something burned a bit in the back of his throat, and he realized he needed to drink some water probably.
Maybe five more minutes of Beirut first.

A bird landed on a mailbox across the street, blurry as the tiny shape was to the man's damaged eyes, he could still see the unmistakable hops of a crow….or raven, maybe. Sort of weird to see a raven in Beirut. But birds could fly so they could be anywhere right? Just like airplanes—Maybe that was wrong…

His eyelids suddenly fluttered heavily, something that alarmed him with how quickly it had happened.

2D suddenly swayed on his feet, unsure of what could be happening and helpless to stop it as his forehead hit the window in front of him with the full force of his weight, eyes closing in an instant. He felt like someone had filled him with liquid lead. The air smelled a bit funny, didn't it? What was that hissing sound?

What the bloody hell? Was he going to sleep now?

His body became heavier and heavier as he was dragged down into the black of unconsciousness, not giving him time to figure it out.

All he could think through a thin dose of fear was that he wanted to go home...even if it was just in his empty-headed dreams at this point.