Morty was fifteen when he was murdered on December 15, 2022. He had been just another photo of a missing child on the news, making headlines to make one pause for just a second, thinking about the downfall of humanity before going on about their business, maybe sparing the matter a thought or two more before forgetting about it until he was pronounced dead. Or, another occurrence, people didn't even pay attention. That seemed to be the more common thing, Morty noticed.
His killer was somebody from Morty's neighborhood, a boy, soon to be a man just six days after killing Morty. Morty had lived alongside him for half of his life; his mom had praised the boy, his dad had commended him—hell, his own sister had liked him at some point. Needless to say, Morty had been acquainted with his murderer.
But on December 15, 2022, it had been snowing, just marginally out of the usual for winter in Seattle, and Morty had missed the bus home. It was one of those days where Rick had allowed him to remain in school—of course, that had only been because Beth had made a threat that she would ground Morty from a month of adventures if he missed school that week, so both Rick and Morty had begrudgingly concurred. Ironically, going to school that week had been what led to Morty's demise.
It was dark as Morty walked home, the setting sun casting delightful oranges, pinks, and indigos in the sky.
The snow was falling delicately, whirlwinds of snowflakes catching Morty's hair as he walked, and he was breathing through his somewhat runny nose. Only ten feet from where Dylan stood, Morty childishly stuck out his tongue to taste a snowflake that had fallen from the heavens.
"Morty," said Dylan.
Morty had startled, all semblance of peace leaving him as he spun around on spot to see who had just called out his name. He eased when he saw his familiar neighbor, waiting for Dylan as he quickened his pace to catch up with Morty. Must be coming home from school too, Morty thought. It was only after Morty had died that he remembered that Dylan's winter break had already started that Monday since he went to a different school than Morty.
"H-hi, Dylan," Morty said.
"Hey, Morty. You coming home from school?"
"Y-y-yeah."
Although Morty liked to consider himself to have a good set of morals and was good at detecting one's feelings, he had never felt comfortable around anyone besides his family.
Dylan nodded before an easy smirk was brought onto his face. "Hey, wanna check something out with me? I was exploring the woods last weekend and found a pretty cool place."
Morty was intrigued, had always been naturally curious, but knew that if he came home later than he was supposed to that his ban on adventures with Rick might be increased, so he dejectedly shook his head. "N-no, s-sorry Dylan, I—I gotta get h-home. A-and I'm sorta c-cold."
Dylan seemed to tense for a split second—Morty stilled because he thought the mannerism was slightly odd on his cool, older neighbor—but after a brief moment his posture returned to his normal relaxed pose. "C'mon, are you chicken Morty? It'll be fun."
Morty sighed and let his nosy side take over. "Sure," Morty relented, letting the older teenager take him aside, off the sidewalk, and venture into the forest.
A few brambles and thorns latched onto Morty, but he shook them off, struggling through the thick and overgrown shrubs and branches.
When Morty began to protest after a few minutes of nothing but Morty evading low-hanging sticks that threatened to poke his eye out, Dylan said it would only take a minute, so Morty followed him even deeper into the forest, where fewer branches were broken off because nobody but the animals went past 300 yards.
"I've made a little spot to hang out," Dylan said as he and Morty continued to struggle (well, Morty had struggled, but Dylan had been walking as if nothing was in his way) along in the forest. It had reached the point that Morty had begun to fall so far behind that Dylan had to reach out behind him to snag Morty's wrist and drag him along the way, making big strides with his long legs that were far longer than Morty's.
Morty nervously chuckled. "W-well I d-d-dunno who would w-want to hide out en-enough to travel a q-quarter mile just—just to get here."
" Exactly, " Dylan had said in a slightly animalistic tone.
After a few more steps, Dylan came to a stop and hauled Morty to his side, slugging an arm around Morty. Morty jumped skittishly and peered up at the sky; it was pitch black at this point, causing Morty to grimace—he was definitely getting more time added to the ban.
"We're here!" Dylan said happily, grinning towards a hut he'd seemingly made.
Morty bit his lip. The hut was made out of twigs and branches and had a lit lantern sitting inside of it.
"Well, go on," Dylan said, shoving Morty lightly towards the hut.
Morty sighed, bringing out his phone to text Rick. "Uh, thanks f-for bringing me o-out here but I-I-I sh-should get going u-unless I want t-to get in trouble." Hopefully, he could ask Rick to portal out here and portal back into the garage before his family had noticed his absence. That'd be pushing it though; it'd only been 4:30 when he left school and it was now 6. He'd be cutting it close if Beth and Jerry, though painfully unobservant of Morty, hadn't known he was missing.
But Dylan made to grab the phone away from Morty, holding it over the short boy's head. Morty huffed; he hated it when people took advantage of his short height. "K-knock it off, dude, I—I gotta—I gotta t-tell m-my grandpa to come p-p-pick me up."
Dylan gave a grin like a Cheshire cat. "Not before you get in our hangout place, Morty," he tutted.
Dylan's behavior was the first red flag—at least the first that Morty had caught notice of. But he'd been angry, so he barely paid any mind towards it.
"D-Dylan, y-you're being a dick, j-just lemme leave."
Dylan said nothing, so Morty sighed and began walking over to the hovel. It was awkward to get into, and even Morty, with his tiny figure, had to bow his head so as not to hit his head on the ceiling and have the branches come crashing down.
"H-happy?" Morty glowered.
Dylan's smile broadened. "Yes."
Morty rolled his eyes and began to crawl out of the den. "O-okay, n-now give me m-my phone back, Dylan."
Dylan approached the hut, holding Morty's phone out towards him. Morty made to grab it, but before he could grasp the small object, Dylan snapped the phone over his knee and threw the discarded parts over his shoulder and into the nearby woods. Dylan gave a cruel grin as Morty began to sputter.
"D-dude!" Morty gawked, his eyes bulging out of his head. "What the hell?!"
Morty, who had now escaped the hut to stand and yell at Dylan, was quickly kicked roughly in the shin. Though his adventures with Rick had raised his guard (and certainly his pain tolerance) he hadn't been expecting it and doubled over, clutching his appendage. Dylan seemed to take the chance and shoved him unceremoniously back into the hut.
The wind was knocked out of him as he fell against the trunk of a tree that was the back of the hut, and Dylan squatted down towards the entrance of the hut to peer down at Morty.
Morty was breathing heavily, eying Dylan cautiously; it was like a game of predator and prey, Morty a helpless rabbit and Dylan a ruthless wolf. One had the benefit of being lithe and speedy while the other had the benefit of being strong and tactful. It was almost always a losing battle for the prey.
Dylan crawled into the hut and Morty whimpered as he felt the back of his head bleeding from how hard he was shoved into the hole.
Dylan rested a hand on Morty's thigh and Morty's breath hitched.
"You're very pretty, Morty," Dylan said, beginning to raise his hand upwards. Morty began to squirm.
"Please... " Morty gasped. "St-stop."
Dylan smiled. He began to grope Morty's package.
Morty started hyperventilating. He suddenly thrashed about, getting out of Dylan's reach. Morty landed a punch upon Dylan's jaw and stood up, not caring about the splinters or the throbbing in his head, only caring about fleeing the situation.
Dylan yelled and began to run after Morty. Morty may have gotten quicker due to his outings with Rick but Dylan's long legs were too much for Morty.
Dylan soon caught up and snatched Morty around his middle, scooping him up by his torso and neck and heaving him into his strong arms. Morty screamed, kicking against Dylan, but Dylan brought up a hand and pressed it harshly against Morty's mouth, blocking anything from making it past Morty's lips.
Dylan dragged him over to the small clearing, throwing Morty onto the snowy forest floor and keeping his hand to Morty's face.
Tears and snot streamed down Morty's face as Dylan began to take Morty's clothes off. Morty's yellow parka was thrown to the side as Dylan moved to his jeans.
Morty sobbed as his dick was revealed. It contracted due to its sensitivity to the cold and Morty could hear an audible moan from Dylan.
Morty bit Dylan's hand as the palm dipped down further into his mouth and a shriek escaped Dylan. Morty fought hard, as hard as he could to not let Dylan hurt him any further, but his as-hard-as-he-could wasn't hard enough, not even close, and Morty was flipped around to be laid on his stomach. Dylan panted and sweat and laid his hands on Morty's wet with tears face.
Morty had shut his eyes tight as Dylan whispered dirty nothings in his ear.
Morty tried to think of anything else besides the heavy breathing in his ear.
Morty thought of his mother, of his father. Beth was most likely cooking dinner now, having now certainly noticed Morty's absence, and checking the dial of the clock on the oven. She would be worried, yet increasingly angry over Morty's lateness. Jerry would be sitting at the counter, watching his wife fuss over the meal and their son, only slightly worried himself but for all the wrong reasons.
Morty thought of Summer. She, even with her phone addiction, would've instantly noticed Morty's absence when he hadn't shown up when he normally did when he rode the bus. She probably went to check the garage, half expecting Morty to be in there, messing with a new contraption with Rick, or half expecting both of them to be gone, having snuck out on an adventure. But she would've opened the door to see Rick altering a device all by his lonesome, without Morty.
Morty thought of Rick. Rick would've, as much as the man denied it, missed his sidekick, his partner in crime. He would've moped and fiddled with his projects he and Morty had started together, worried when Summer came in to check and see if Morty was there, worried more when thirty minutes had passed and there was no sign of Morty, but become exasperated when an hour passed and there was still no sign of the kid.
Dylan began to press his lips to Morty's. They were blubbery and wet and Morty wanted to scream but was too exhausted from the fight, too scared to make a peep.
His lips were reserved for Rick and for Rick only, so it felt like disloyalty to Morty's companion, to Morty's only friend. The last time he'd kissed Rick's lips was only this morning, a standard goodbye between the two before Morty had to leave for school. Morty's green eyes had crinkled at Rick and Rick's own blue eyes had softened in turn.
"Don't, D-Dylan," Morty managed, pulling his head away sharply from the kiss. Morty had kept continuously saying that word a lot. Don't and please were sporadically thrown out in his sentences.
"I want you, Morty," Dylan moaned, stroking every exposed surface of Morty he could find.
"Please," Morty said. "Don't," Morty said. Sometimes they were combined into "please don't" or "don't please".
"Please..."
But Dylan grew tired, too tired, of hearing Morty plead. He snatched the yellow shirt from off the forest floor where it had been laying, discarded, and smashed it in the boy's mouth. The only sounds made after that were moans and the light slapping of skin on skin.
As he kissed his wet lips down Morty's face and neck and began to fondle Morty's testicles, Morty wept. He had begun to leave his mind, his body; he began to inhabit the air and the silence. He cried and struggle as to not feel.
Dylan reached up, restraining Morty's wrists against the forest floor, moving his head down to Morty's crotch. Dylan felt Morty in his mouth, licking all around, and Morty felt trapped.
He felt huge and bloated. Morty felt like the sea in which Dylan stood and pissed and shat. He felt the corners of his body cave in, turning in and out on themselves.
Dylan started working himself over Morty.
"Morty, I need your help on an adventure. 'Need' is a strong word. We need door stops, but a brick would work too."
He was inside of Morty.
"What about the reality where Hitler cured cancer, Morty? The answer is: Don't think about it."
He was grunting.
"Does evil exist, and if so, can one detect and measure it? Rhetorical question, Morty. The answer's 'yes, you just have to be a genius.'"
Morty was the mortar, Dylan was the pestle.
"Be good, Morty. Be better than me."
Dylan forced Morty to lie still underneath the almost eighteen-year-old and listen to the beating of his heat and the beating of Morty's own. How Morty's skipped like a rabbit, and how Dylan's thudded, a hammer against china plates. They laid there with their bodies intertwined, and, as Morty shook, an incredible, all-consuming knowledge took hold. Dylan had done something to Morty and Morty had lived. That was all. Morty was still breathing. Morty heard Dylan's heart, smelled his breath. Morty could have screamed for hours.
He'd been so alive then.
Morty realized he was going to be killed. However, he hadn't realized that he was an animal already dying.
Dylan continued to give Morty kisses down his neck, but they were gentle, like a lover. Like Rick.
Morty couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. Even the tears had stopped coming, either due to dehydration or his absence of emotion, Morty had no idea.
Dylan, at last, stopped, laying flat against Morty. There was a stillness in the air, and Morty knew it to be late in the evening. Possibly midnight.
Out of nowhere, there was movement on top of Morty, and Dylan shifted. He leaned to the side and felt, over his head, across the ledge where his bag sat. Dylan brought back a knife. Unsheathed, it smiled eerily at Morty, curving up in a grin.
Dylan took the shirt from Morty's mouth.
"Tell me that you love me," said Dylan.
Gently, Morty did.
The end came anyway.