Lilacs.
Noodle's nostrils flared, inhaling deeply as her eyes shot open to take in her surroundings. White was all she could see, hazy sunlight casting a sort of glow. Slowly, things began to take shape and the bright, glittering eyes of anime stared back at her.
Gasping, she jolted upright, looking around wildly.
Her room.
Slightly messy, but just how she had left it before parading off the night before.
The blood vessels in her skull pounded relentlessly, and it wasn't long before the hint of the lingering floral scent brushed their way into her nose again. Taking a rather cautious glance at her wrinkled top, she pinched the cotton fabric between her fingers and lifted it towards her face to take a sniff.
Very faint, but it was definitely there.
She never used perfume, or even liked the idea of it.
However, her thoughts did not dwell on the fragrance for long as she thought back to the events of the evening before.
A stranger with a bright smile, Murdoc's usual shenanigans, the relentless thump of the club music thrumming through her rib cage….
Then nothing.
How had she made it back home?
It wasn't like her to have spotty memories, even after having a considerable amount of booze. Her upbringing and her origins as a super soldier wouldn't allow it. She had the highest tolerance out of anyone she knew, so the very notion that her brain had betrayed her was far from acceptable.
Her fingertips curled into the soft surface of the mattress, the sheets rustling beneath her grip.
Looks can be deceiving.
Indeed they can be.
The last words she remembered speaking. How had it escaped her?
In frustration, she stood up and began to search for her outfit for the day. This was one mystery she wasn't about to let slip through her fingers.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The trickle and rumble of the coffee machine was the only sound amidst the entire room, which made it all the more startling when its patient recipient heard giggling from somewhere within their flat. The source of the noise didn't give him much time to contemplate on the direction from which they came, two groupies busting their way into the kitchen door in a pursuit of the rear exit. There was a momentary exchange of eye contact, but 2-D had nothing to say to them. They looked him over for a moment before falling into another fit of giggles as they pushed open the rickety screen door leading out into the night.
"What a shame!"
"I bet he's great in bed."
It wasn't as if Gorillaz famed singer had never had frivolous nights of his own. Often, there was barely any room in their vehicle between them and all the girls that Murdoc and himself would bring home. Sometimes even Russel managed to coax one home, but that was few and far between. He figured Noodle was so disgusted by all of it that she made it her personal mission to never bring someone home in such a way.
It was fine.
Lately though, it seemed as though his desire for such nightly activity had reached an all-time low. Perhaps it was age, or maybe it was just the fact that this new area didn't seem to turn up any worthy participants in his eyes. Not to mention that he came to the frustrating conclusion that last few times around that his endurance was….lacking. Sometimes not even showing up.
Yup. Definitely age.
His fervent brooding about his failing masculinity was interrupted with the heavy rhythm of footsteps coming into the room, and he turned to meet his third pair of eyes that morning, this pair being a much more deserving recipient of his attention.
"Mornin'." Russel grunted, still trying to bring his bulky frame into the kitchen and across the way to rummage through their cabinets. The blue haired man heard the unmistakable clink of glass followed by the skittery rattle of a whisk. It only meant one thing, and his stomach growled at the thought of the drummer's world-famous pancakes.
"Mornin'." He managed to mutter back, pouring the steaming hot bean liquid into his chipped mug.
"Muds and Noodle make it back OK?" Russel threw the question over his shoulder like a used towel, too busy pulling ingredients from both cabinets and refrigerator to actually look at his best friend. 2-D gave a lazy shrug of his shoulder, sipping his beverage black. Just how he liked it.
"'S far 's I know." He mumbled again, smacking his lips in satisfaction over his supreme cup of joe.
"Good." The short and abrupt reply was a little startling, but he didn't linger on the thought very long.
The sizzle of butter into the skillet only heightened his hunger.
"I'm jus' sayin' the chorus….is a load o' hot rubbish."
Papers lay scattered around the table as if they were in the heat of jury duty. 2-D's disgruntled expression only seemed to further the bassist's scowl, but it was not his oldest bandmate who spoke up.
"Well, if you can think up something better, we're all ears." Russel snapped, scooping his latest batch of breakfast out onto an awaiting plate. Murdoc growled, snatching at the nearest piece of notebook with his gnarly hand.
"'Course I can. I carry the weight o' this band anyways." He grumbled. This made both bandmates look up in startled shock.
"What did you—" Russel's retort was halted as their fourth and final band member made her way into the room. Her choppy bobbed hair was mussed to the extreme and her shirt was fairly crumpled, but otherwise she looked the best out of all of them. She always did.
"Good morning." Her little voice peeped, giving a hug to 2-D, who was the closest to her.
"Morning, Noods." The singer said with a ghost of a smile on his face. It never ceased to amaze him how the little girl they found in a Fedex crate all those years ago had blossomed into the young woman they greeted now.
"Morning, baby girl." Russel said warmly, also giving her a hug as she made her rounds. However, she didn't seem to have much interest in making contact with the third bandmate, and slipped into the seat next to 2-D to beam at the steaming pile of hotcakes in front of her.
Murdoc had cast the pending song lyrics to the side and busied himself with the morning paper, something he had recently taken up as a pastime. For several minutes, there was no conversation. It was as if they were vying for a civil get-together amongst themselves. Something few and far between as of late. However, they knew better than to foolishly believe that it would last.
"Loo' a' this stupid bloke." Murdoc's slurred speech didn't warrant much of a reaction beyond the half-interested glance of 2-D. However, all three jumped in their seat as he smacked the paper down onto the table of surface, one scraggily finger pointing to a picture of young man looked wide-eyed into the camera in front of him. "'as the finest string skills in London. Doesn't know wha' 'e's got goin' fer 'im."
"Muds, you've already roped three of us into your prison. No use pulling in anyone." Russel responded without missing a beat, scooting his chair back to arise and go to the sink.
"Wha' th' ell's THAT supposed t' mean?" The bassist hissed, glancing from his drummer to the other two members. His lip curled in disdain. "I've given ye careers, all of ye. Without me, 2D would be a sodding pile o' brainless mush, Noodle 'd probably be a stree' rat, and you'd be sho' dead like the rest o' ya buds."
In short, Russel was very tired of this self-glorifying of Murdoc's. It seemed as if his mood was just the right amount of sour for things to go south quickly. Before anyone could blink, Russel had Murdoc by the neck like a fresh goose for his taxidermy.
"Listen here, you green bean. You're lucky any of us are staying after everything you've pulled. You should have stayed in that cell and rot to a pile of ash, if you ask me."
Leave it to the hulking drummer to set things straight and voice what everyone was thinking. It sounded repetitive and bland, but it was their lives. Every second of it. In response to this, Murdoc just seemed to shrug.
"So things are a little tense right now, eh? We've been through this before, Russ. Y'know you'd 'ave no place t' go." He looked between them all again, a wry smile having found its way onto his face. "None of ye would." He locked eyes with the fuming drummer once more. "Ye always make your way back to me, whether y'want to or no'."
Russel opened his mouth to spit something back in his direction, but once again he was cut short with a tiny question from 2-D.
"Noods, wha's that on yer arm?" He lifted a finger to guide everyone's gaze in its direction, and sure enough they all observed a bright purple mark on the back of Noodle's upper arm. Three little dots, looking as if somebody had handled her too roughly.
"Oh now you've done it." Russel growled, snatching up the wrinkled collar of the bassist before glaring directly into his eyes. "What did you do to her?"
"Nothin', Russ, I swear it!" This time, Murdoc's voice was slightly shrill and desperate. It was one thing to stir up the large man's anger by his own accord, but involve Noodle in any way, and Murdoc saw his chances of leaving in one piece dwindling by the second.
"You went to that bar last night didn't you? I told you that's no place for women!" Russel scolded like a father to his reckless son, though his insides curled at the idea of someone like Murdoc as a kin. He shook the green man about angrily, preparing to punch him in the gut.
"RUSSEL-SAN!"
Everyone froze, and the large man reeled at the mention of his nickname. Noodle rarely used it anymore upon her discovery of practically impeccable English, but when she did choose to bring it up, she meant business. All eyes were on the young Japanese woman, and her shoulders slouched ever so slightly.
"Leave him alone. He didn't do it." She couldn't believe she was defending Murdoc, but she wasn't in the mood to clean up his blood and teeth off of the floor.
"Someone must've. It's all 'urple n' green." 2-D observed, still giving it a side-tilt of his head from behind her. Noodle quickly placed a tender hand over it, shooting him a look before Russel stepped forward, still holding onto Murdoc by the collar like a ragdoll.
"Just name 'em, Noods." He ensured her. However, as all eyes fell on her again, the young woman found herself only able to bite her lip in frustration.
What the hell was wrong with her? There wasn't a lot she prided herself on, but remembering things was a big one. And now she was coming up dry. Why?
In defeat, her shoulder slumped even more and her eyes fell to the floor to avoid everyone's judgmental stares.
"I…don't remember." She finally mumbled.
"Wha'?" 2-D squawked almost immediately. The grip around her bruise tightened, enough to remind her of the cost of her failed memory.
"That's unusual." Russel conferred, and Noodle shook her head.
"I know." She said with a slight snap. She wasn't liking the direction this conversation was going now.
"You sure y'don't 'ave any idea?" 2-D further pressed, his expression falling to even further confusion as she continuously shook her head.
"You and Muds made it back together last night, didn't you?" Russel decided to examine all facets of the night in question. Upon the attention turning back to him, the green skinned man seemed to just give a nasty smile.
"Don't remember much of anythin'. Just those two groupies, eh? Heh heh." Nobody was laughing. In fact, his useless comment seemed to go right over everyone's head.
"Y'had to 'ave come home wif him. Who else knows exactly where t' take ye?" The blue-haired singer continued to throw out assumptions to see if anything would jog the girl's memory, but it seemed as if they were fishing with no bait. Nothing seemed to trigger her.
"I don't know, guys. Let's just forget about it." She insisted, looking out the window.
Reclusiveness usually wasn't in her nature, but in light of the situation, she felt it was best if she just distanced herself from them so she could think.
Russel and 2-D seemed to pick up on this. After all, raising her had not been a picnic and like any parent would, they eventually came to recognize her visual and verbal cues that she needed some time alone.
The hulking black man finally released his grip on Murdoc entirely, causing the man to stumble to the ground for a moment before slinking back to the table to grab for his fizzling cigarette.
"Only if you say so, baby girl." Russel said, and Noodle made brief eye contact with him in a sort of silent word of thanks, and she exited the room before any of them had much to say past that.
The clatter of shot-glasses rumbled through the dive along with hushed chatter of the generic kind. A warm setting sun started to cast a golden glow over the restaurant, and in the far corner, where the beams lightly brushed the features of the table assembly, she sat alone.
Despite everything that had gone on the night before, the restaurant attached to the bar was quite the nice dive during the day. Posh uptown women with more gold bracelets on their arms than they knew what to do with sat at small bistro tables that were set by the window, a perfect illusion for the passersby on the type of people who occupied these parts. Their diamond earrings glittered in the fading light, slightly saggy jowls trembling at their boastful laughter.
Noodle wiggled the toes in her left boot, giving her dirty, beat up kicks a quick glance in comparison to the silk flats.
Screw all that fancy shit, she just wanted her Rueben.
Amidst the light and dainty orders of shrimp and wine, the restaurant offered more hearty selections for the folks that turned up later in the evenings. Men with bigger stomachs. And her.
Normally they wouldn't start serving it until then, but the waiter knew her by face and knew what she wanted. He had elected to never question her choices, and he had become a favorite of hers to see.
Not that her bandmates needed to know about it.
Once again, she didn't bother learning his name. She only knew him by his soft blue eyes and cinnamon freckles that dashed his cheekbones.
Her finger floated its way to the rim of her pint glass, ghosting in a circle as her eyes fixated on the last clinging bubbles within the amber liquid that occupied the glass. Little by little, they rose to the surface, exploding into nothingness upon contact with the air. Funny, she felt the same.
Then there it was.
Like a whisper in the dark, so faint that it almost didn't register.
Almost.
With a widened gaze, her eyes lifted in recognition. But a voice soon accompanied the floral smell.
"How's the bruise?"
Definitely a feminine voice, if not low and raspy in nature. Noodle immediately turned to her left, spying a shady character leaning against the nearest wall. Their eyes, peeking out from behind a paisley bandana and hood, scanned the restaurant for a moment before daring another glance in her direction.
Things started to connect as she stared at them.
Snippets of yelling, running, hands grabbing at her.
Her woozy head and the weight of her body collapsing onto dark blue vinyl.
But you were always on my mind…..
Elvis.
Why Elvis?
Her brain gave a pained twinge, and she gripped her hair tightly. Why couldn't she remember? In frustration, she chose to inquire about the one thing she could recall. Her eyes narrowed to practically nothing.
"How did you know where to take me?" She demanded, not in the mood for any more aloof answers. Unfortunately, that is exactly what she got. She had tried her best to sound as cold and reserved as possible. No telling how much of her this person had learned in their time with her drunken self.
The tall figure's posture stiffened a bit, and their eyes widened momentarily in apprehension.
She felt her heart swell in triumph at the sight. Despite their stony exterior, she had managed to get a rise out of them. However short of a second it was.
"I figured you would appreciate waking up in your own bed…versus a stranger's." They explained. It sent a chill down her spine, but not in a creepy way. After all, said individual had been the one to pull her out of what she could only assume was a difficult situation.
Noodle opened her mouth to pry further, but one glance away and back proved to be fatal to her cause, as the person was already making preparations to move spots. Their gloved hand slipped into their right pocket, pawing something that jingled in response before giving a sharp turn of the head in the window's direction.
"Don't worry about repaying me in any way." They declared, and she watched as they took one more glance at her. "You won't have a chance to."
One blink and they were gone. The guitarist looked around wildly. Never had she seen someone fade so quickly, and she found herself scrambling around the place in search of her mysterious companion.
Nothing.
No sign they had even been there.
What kind of shit…? She thought, taking one more glance around before returning to her seat. The waiter gave her a smile as he placed her plate on the table, the slightly steaming Rueben a welcome sight.
She slid down into the chair in a huff, taking a huge bite to chew in contemplation.
She had perhaps missed her one and only chance to learn the truth about the first night she could not remember.
The beer had ceased its fizzing, and her fingers curled around the cool glass to raise to her lips. Slamming it back down, Noodle's eyes stared into the street outside in determination.
No. She declared. I'm not going to forget this. Not as easily as they want me to.
She decided right then and there that for once, when she found them, she would learn their name. And learn it well.
Something she was certain this person was not expecting.
And she liked that.
Heyyoooo. I'm back! I hope ya'll are doing well and enjoyed this update! Sorry for the delay, I will try to work on my efficiency as I go!
Thank you for reading! Until next time!
-celestialdreams57