Unexpected Affair
By: keep.your.groove.on.baby
Disclaimer: I own-ed the plot…but not the peoples.
A/N: Ok…I have an ending for this story in my head…but if I just went on with it the story would probably end in this chapter…within four paragraphs. SO…we are going to try to stretch this mother effing thing out as much as possible. I promise I'll make this one a good story. Enjoy!
Chapter Three
Present Day
Noodle sat in the back of her car watching the sunset on another passing day. Her legs swung lazily above the ground, her fingers lightly mimicking a slow tune from a CD playing in her CD player. A cigarette was positioned between her lips, the ash falling onto her shirt unnoticed, her emerald eyes locked onto the setting sun.
Mike sat next to her, joining her in a silent observation of the setting sun, his tail loosely wrapped around a bottle of tequila next to Noodle's leg.
As the evening darkened into night, Noodle's eyes squinted less and less due to the lack of sunlight that entered her eyes during the day.
Her lips pressed together on the cigarette as she inhaled, the ash growing larger on the end of the cigarette with every breath she took.
Five years…for five years Noodle and Mike sat the exact same way to watch the sunset…whether it be in Wallasey or any other part of England.
It was the only time of the day when the rare thought of what had happened with her band mates and El Mañana entered her mind and she scowled in anger at the retreating sun. The dying sun reminded her of her supposed publicity stunt with the promise of being reborn in the morning.
Her eyebrows furrowed together, the ash of her cigarette falling onto her chest.
But the sun doesn't die for a year and then come back…and I bet it doesn't suffer in a dark, dank hole with hell as its next door neighbor.
Noodle pulled out another cigarette and lit it with the end of the cigarette that was in her mouth, chucking the old one out the back of the car and taking a large hit off the new one. She positioned it permanently in her mouth and stretched out the kinks in her legs from last nights activities.
Ever since her first time, three years ago, Noodle visited the little bar about twice a week, meeting a nameless man every time using a different alias every time to keep up with her hiding scheme.
And every single time she managed to orgasm, it was always from the scar on her neck. One man thought she was lying because her inner walls didn't contract with the orgasm she looked like she had just had. She hadn't anticipated ever fucking a "smarter than average" man and was slightly surprised at this outburst. Little did he know that her neck stiffened like it was in a neck brace.
Noodle sighed and began her usual mental list of things she had accomplished today.
Upon waking, as usual, Mike and she took a shower in the beach shower stall that wasn't too far away from them. Noodle snorted at the thought…the damn thing wasn't even a stall. It was a wooden pole with a shower head sticking out of it.
It never mattered to her though, being completely nude in public and all. Nobody came to this dock anymore and if anybody managed to come at the exact moment that she was naked in the shower, she doubted that she'd give a damn.
She'd also done her laundry. That was a little more tedious and slightly aggravating.
She'd accidentally worn all of the clothes she had in her suitcase and after her shower it left her nothing clean to where, and Noodle had a thing about putting on dirty clothes after a shower, especially since whatever she put on would have to stay dirty until she washed them again.
So with a sigh and a shrug, Noodle got into her car with a towel around her body and drove the ten miles it took to get to civilization and the nearest Laundromat. With the help of Mike, Noodle dragged in her seven garbage bags filled with dirty clothes and her empty suitcase.
It took a good…six hours to do all of her laundry, two of which were spent in a towel. Noodle didn't mind the stares and whispers that went around the tiny place that was going to happen regardless. It was constantly getting hit on by every man that walked into the Laundromat, young or old, for two straight hours.
They must've thought they were being cute for coming up to the one girl in the whole building that was naked and wrapped in a towel. This was just aggravating for her and the fact that her scar was in plain view made her self-conscious, which only added to her irritation. She smiled sweetly at the older men and tried to be as kind as possible so she wasn't disrespectful even if they were being disrespectful to her.
The younger men got a cold glare and a snarl to get away or fuck off. She didn't have patience for the young brats trying to get an easy lay, even if she was one when the night had risen.
Mike did his best to run off the imposing men, by either scowling or pouting at them until they went away without even realizing he was there. Mike was never one to take the offensive.
The "man" problem stopped as soon as she put on some clothes, which she promptly did as soon as the first load was done. After that it was smooth sailing for Mike and her, Mike helping her fold her clothes and put them back in the suitcase.
After finishing her clothes, Noodle hastily exited the door, tossing the empty garbage bags into the trash, Mike dragging her suitcase behind her.
After the necessities were performed, the rest of the day was spent eating, drinking, smoking and lazing around the car at the dock talking to each other.
Noodle mentally sighed at the day. It'd been like this for years and she wasn't sure if she could take it much longer. Despite how angry and hateful she had become towards her former band and well…everyone else as well, she still desired companionship.
"Well Mike," she yawned, "what do you say we go to bed?"
He scrunched his forehead in confusion, his jaw moving with the words he was trying to form.
"Baa-rrrr?" he questioned.
Noodle shook her head and yawned again, clenching the cigarette with her teeth.
"Not tonight. I've had enough of that damn place for now."
He shrugged and grabbed the pillows and blankets they stored in the front seat, fluffing one behind his back and plopping down on it with a little sigh.
Noodle took another long drag off her cigarette before flicking out onto the sand and placing her guitar in the front seat. A quick swig of tequila and the bottle soon followed the guitar.
She grabbed pajama pants and a tank top out of her suit case and stood outside the car to strip from what she was wearing. After neatly folding her clothes in her suitcase to wear for another day, she slid on the tank top and pajama pants and climbed back inside the rear of her car.
Noodle laid her back on the floor, her head resting on the pillow Mike had fluffed for her. Covering herself with the blankets, she rolled onto her side with Mike curling against her back, snoring lightly.
Noodle stared at the side panel of her mini cooper, unable to sleep.
Another boring, worthless day. Nothing accomplished, nothing gained, everything lost.
For once, Noodle realized exactly how lonely she was, and the thought of being back with her band mates again didn't make her angry, it made her sad.
Noodle cried silent tears, tears that chilled her face as the wind from the open hatchback.
Noodle cried herself to sleep that night for the first time in five years, her tears drying before they even hit the floor of her car.
Anywhere else, Noodle may have closed the doors on her car and locked the doors to keep Mike and her in and everything else out, but Noodle and Mike were unafraid of someone robbing them or hurting them. Wallasey hadn't had a real crime since the Second World War, especially since it was abandoned in this day and age.
So both slept somewhat peacefully without worry, fear or anticipation. There was nothing to anticipate for them anymore. Morning came as planned and the day progressed sometimes at a snail's pace or faster than light. Night was also guaranteed to follow, in which Noodle allowed herself to raise her eyes from her staring contest with the mocking hell and ponder the temporary death of the sun.
Sometimes when she was sober enough to think properly, Noodle wondered exactly how she had kept her sanity for five years. No doubt she had Mike to keep her company but he wasn't the type of companionship that Noodle wanted.
Although her anger and hatred towards her band mates still bloomed within her, she couldn't help but wish that one of them cared enough about her to actually look for her. It wasn't that hard to find her, all she did was drive northwest until she hit the coast.
Unfortunately relationships in Wallasey were slim to none. Getting too attached to the public would only ruin things for her.
Noodle scrunched her brow as the thought muddled around in her head as she tried to sleep.
Ruin what? How much more damage could a fling relationship do to her already fucked up life?
Noodle twitched her nose and relaxed her body, letting the thought slip from her mind. It didn't matter; she was going to be alone for a very long time. She didn't know when she was going to reveal herself to the public or if she even should. She even debated going back to Kong, but the urge to maim all of her former band mates was too strong so the kind spot in her heart prevailed and she abandoned that idea.
Noodle rolled over gently in her sleep and threw her arm over Mike, the primate scooting closer for warmth.
So what if she spent the rest of her life using gas station bathrooms and showering at an abandoned beach shower? She was perfectly content.
A single solitary tear rolled slowly down the Japanese guitarist's cheek as a testament to the lie that just entered her mind.
Russel sighed for the tenth time within an hour, leaning his temple against his forefingers as he sat in the studio, sifting through the piles and piles of their fan mail.
None of them gave a damn about the remaining Gorillaz band members. Not even the formerly perverted and sex addict Murdoc. Every scrap of mail had something sympathetic to say about Noodle. Even the mortgage bill or any other bill that had to be paid sent a constant reminder that they missed the little Japanese girl that had roamed the halls of Kong Studios.
Because the fans were more and more depressed, almost refusing to gain closure from the whole situation, the remaining band members also stayed depressed and without closure. Noodle's room, after five years, was just a gaping hole on the side of Kong. Not even the zombies attempted to use this as a gateway to the rest of Kong, as if out of respect for their former slayer.
Russel sighed again, biting his cheek to keep the onslaught of tears away that he knew were threatening to come.
He glanced at the open door as a shirtless Murdoc strolled on by with his bass in his hands, whistling.
Russel scowled as he heard Murdoc slam the door to the sound booth. That man had never, ever whistled as long as Russel had known him. It didn't make sense that 2D and himself suffer after so long and Murdoc not frown even slightly.
Russel had never bothered to ask Murdoc what had happened after he'd been reborn. He wondered if he'd said something to Noodle since her door was right next to Murdoc's new birthplace.
Russel listened closely as Murdoc played a few notes here and there, tuning his bass. The drummer wondered with hope if Murdoc had actually written something new for them to record so they could come out of the hole they were in.
The heavy man scowled as he heard the music from Double Bass start playing, Murdoc's own bass playing in sync with the music.
Russel stood slowly, turning around and tapping on the glass to get the bassist's attention. When Murdoc didn't look up, Russel turned off the music and hit the intercom button.
Murdoc's head snapped up angrily, "What lards!"
Russel sighed, "Where's yo' bird, man?" Noticing at the last minute that the raven name Cortez was not in his usual place on Murdoc's shoulders.
An evil grin flashed across Murdoc's face before it reverted into a scowl and he snarled at the drummer.
"'ell if I know! 'e's a damn bird, lards! 'ey do what 'ey want. Now put my damn music back on!"
Russel frowned angrily at the bassist. Murdoc noticed this and scowled even further, his irritation rising by the second.
"What the 'ells yo' problem lards! 'ew got shit fo' brains!"
"What did you do to her!" Russel shouted, pointing a large, accusing finger against the glass.
Still scowling, Murdoc quirked an eyebrow upward, "What the fuck 'ew talkin' bout!"
Russel leaned closer to the glass and snarled, "Yo' were reborn right next door to her room. She disappeared the same day and her door had been kicked in! Now tell me what the fuck you did to her!"
"I didn' do a damn thing to her yo' fat fuck! She left on her own…because yo' bastards didn' even attempt to keep 'er 'ere," he said, a feral grin gracing his features.
Russel bared his teeth, losing his temper. He lifted his finger off the intercom button and without a second thought punched his fist through the glass that separated the booth from the control room.
Murdoc didn't flinch from the impact or the glass that shattered on the floor in front of him. His eyes were locked on the angry drummer's who was panting furiously.
"If I find out you did anything to her to make her leave, I am going to kill you," Russel growled.
Murdoc's deadly gaze followed the drummer as he stormed out of the studio and into the corridor. The bassist grinned evilly as the door slammed shut.
"'ew 'ave no idea mate."
One hour ago
Cortez sat on Murdoc's shoulder in the Winnebago bedroom while Murdoc flipped through channels on the telly and nursed a beer that he'd opened an hour ago. Suddenly the bird ruffled his feathers and nuzzled his head against Murdoc's neck to get his attention and squawked.
Murdoc snorted, "S'bout damn time yo' bloody bird. 've been waitin' for years now."
The bird screeched a remark and flew out the Winnebago door before the bassist could respond. Murdoc snorted again.
"Bloody bird."