Author's Note: Hi . . . remember me:/ Yeah, I know; it's been a little over a month since I've updated. This is probably the most overused excuse in the book, but I was really busy with school and graduation parties; I have a lot of friends who are seniors. Also, my birthday was last week (I got a Wii!) . . . Anyway, to make up for the long hiatus, I give you two new chapters instead of one! Happy reading! ;)-
It's the first day back at school after Thanksgiving vacation. Over the break, I pretty much patched things up with the guys. They admitted I had been going through a lot of shock in the past few months, and even admitted what I did was nothing compared to some of the things Murdoc has done. So, I'm glad things are all right there.
Anyway, something happened during first period today. Dream Interpretation class was starting out just like any other day, when all of a sudden, the principal walked in. Her eyes were red, so I knew she had been crying. She tearfully and shakily announced that over the weekend, a student named Glen, whom I didn't know, had crashed his car straight into a tree, killing him.
Everyone else was stunned. They all immediately started crying and holding themselves. I actually felt bad that Brigitte and Wayne, who were sitting next to me, were in such pain and shock, while I was sitting there feeling absolutely nothing. Of course, I was the only one in the room not crying.
They let school out early. Immediately, all the students flooded out of the school, walking to the place of the crash. Glen's letter jacket had been placed at the edge of the tree trunk. People began placing possessions all around the tree, just standing there and mourning their loss. Not my loss. Their loss. I've already been mourning my loss. My losses.
Obviously, there was no point in me staying here. I didn't want to talk to anyone anyway. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I walked back to Kong. All by myself. Thankfully, it was still too light for the zombies to be out.
---
When I got to Kong, it seemed empty. My suspicions were confirmed when I got to the door leading to inside.
'D and I went to get groceries. Be back soon!-Russel
As I looked at the note, I realized something: this was the first time I'd ever been in Kong Studios all by myself! Maybe this could be my chance to escape from this place and finally get back to Osaka!
I run to my room, burst through the door, open my closet, and begin to stuff everything I can think of into a bag I've got. If I look hard enough around here, I could find enough fare for a bus. Maybe I could even get a plane ticket! Maybe . . .
Suddenly, I stop. It all sinks back in.
I can't go back to Osaka. I have no home there.
No Yori.
No Seiichi.
No Kyuzo-san . . .
My shock suddenly turns to sudden rage. I clench my fists so tight, my knuckles turn white. Before I can stop myself, I raise my right fist over my head and hit the floor as hard as I can.
Once.
Twice.
But just as I'm about to bring my fist down a third time . . . someone-or something-grabs my wrist.
"You playin' percussion now? Guess Russ'll 'ave to learn 'ow to play guitar, then."
I jump at the sudden voice and jerk my hand free. I whirl around, still on the floor, ready to glare at the person who dared to interrupt me.
Murdoc was standing right behind me. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Just a pair of jeans, his boots, and that damn cross hanging around his neck.
"Eh, don' worry," he mumbles. "I get tha' look a lot."
"Go away . . . " I grumble.
He snorts. "Don' you "go away" me. Remember, this is my house yer stayin' in. You may not want to admit it, but you 'ave no right to tell me what I can an' can't do." He then looks at my bag, half-filled with clothes. "What, you thought this place was empty? Thought you could sneak off without us knowin'?"
Instead of answering, I cross my arms and huff, leaning back against the wall. I stare at my feet.
Yeah. Real mature, Noodle.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Murdoc sigh, then slowly sit down on my bed.
Neither of us speak for about a minute. Then . . .
"Look, love," he says slowly. "'Ow long do ya plan to keep this up?"
"Keep what up?" I ask cautiously.
He looks at me. "Whaddaya mean 'keep what up'? You know damn well what I'm talkin' about. I'm talkin' about this pathetic pity fest you've been puttin' on yerself ever since ya got 'ere!"
I look at him with fire in my eyes. "My world has been shattered," I say defiantly. "I have a right to be pathetic."
"Yeah, well, it ain't so good for yer appearance," Murdoc says back. "In fact, it ain't healthy for any part o' ya. Look, the point is, sooner or later, you're gonna 'ave to get over it."
"No, I won't," I say.
"An' why is that?"
"Because I can't!" I stand up, furious. "Don't you get it, you creep? Ever since I got here, all I can think about is how I've had to give up everything I knew for fifteen years! I've lost my way of life, my home, my guardian . . . the only thing keeping me sane was the fact that I might actually see my friends again. And now I found out my friends are doing it with each other while I'm stuck millions of miles away! You expect me to get over that?! Why are you even talking to me? You don't even like me!"
The whole time I was yelling, Murdoc just sat there, staring at me. When I finally stopped, my face was hot, and I was breathing heavily. I wait for Murdoc to yell at me for snapping at him.
Instead, he says nothing . . . and gently puts his hands on my shoulders.
"You really think I don' like ya?" he asks.
"You . . . you wanted to kick me out when I first got here . . . " I remind him.
"Yeeeeah . . . " he mutters. "Well, that was before I got a chance to know ya. An' . . . when you're not mopin' around an' feelin' sorry for yerself . . . yer actually nice to 'ave around." He pauses. "Don' you dare tell Russ an' Dullard I said that."
I'm stunned. He actually likes me?
"You . . . you really mean that?" I ask quietly.
"Sure I do," he answers. "Yer a hell of a good guitarist. Probably even better'n me, I bet. Plus, you're the toughest lil' bugger I've ever seen."
"How?" I ask.
"You've 'ad all this shit happen to ya, an' I haven't even seen ya cry once."
I look at the floor. "I. . .cannot cry. I used it all up when Kyuzo-san died. Now I . . . I just can't."
"I see . . . " He pauses. "So. . .you gonna stop layin' so much shit on yerself?"
My eyes narrow. "Why should I?" I mutter.
He sighs in frustration. "Look, Noodle luv . . . "
Luv? Did he just call me luv?
". . .Don' tell Russ an' Dullard I told you this either, but a few years ago, I was sorta in the same position you an' yer . . . previous friends, I guess, 'ave been in."
I'm confused. "Your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend?" I ask.
"No. . ." he says. "It's a little more . . . complicated than that. Damn, how can I explain this . . . ?" He pauses, trying to think of the right way to explain himself. "Well, you see . . . I 'ave this friend. An' 'e had a girlfriend. Only problem was, the girlfriend didn't like my friend. She liked . . . me. One night, I found the both of us in the bathroom together, and then . . . " He stops and buries his head in his hands. "Aw, sweet Satan, why am I tellin' you this? This story ain't fit for your ears . . . "
My eyes widen. "Your friend's girlfriend cheated on him . . . with you?"
"Look, I ain't proud o' it, okay?" he grumbles. "The point is, my friend found us out. 'E was a wreck for weeks. I've never seen anyone so broken in all my life. An' I don't wanna see you end up like 'e did."
"Who was the friend?" I ask.
"That's none of your business."
"Murdoc, you . . . " He looks up at me. "You . . . are really trying to help me?"
"I. . .suppose so," he says. He looks a little confused himself. "Can't really tell myself, if you wanna know the truth. Just gettin' tired of watchin' you walk around an' lookin' more dead than the zombies outside . . . "
Another pause.
"I 'eard about that kid from yer school," he adds quietly. "The one who . . . you know . . . "
I frown, then nod.
"You gonna be okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask.
"Well, I just thought . . . " He suddenly stops. "Yeah . . . probably shouldn't talk about that right now."
"No, you shouldn't," I say.
"All right," he says. "Remember, don' tell Russ or 2D about this."
I sigh. "I won't."
"An' am I gonna be keepin' my guitarist?"
I look up at him. I can't help but smile at the smirk on his face. I nod.
"Good," he says. "Listen . . . you've probably had a rough day, so. . . 'ow 'bout you take a day off from practice?"
My smile grows bigger. Before I can stop myself, I walk right up to him and wrap my arms around him.
"Thank you, Murdoc," I whisper.
I can't get over the look on his face. "Uh . . . no problem . . . Noodle," he says.
After I let go of him, he gets up and walks out of my room, leaving me alone again.
I grab my guitar and sit down on my bed, lightly strumming my instrument. I guess I have to stay now.
I still feel bad about everything that's happened to me. But if I leave, who's gonna upstage Murdoc?
