Okay so this is the last chapter for Phase One. I'm going to be posting a new story tomorrow that will be the beginning of Phase Two.
Murdoc hated the time alone, he hated the solitude. For a few weeks he had enjoyed it, enjoyed not hearing 2D whining constantly, or Noodle going through the house yelling in a hyper like fit. He liked being able to walk through Kong not worrying that the dullard was out in the grave yard being torn to shreds by the walking dead or really losing his temper at anybody.
After awhile though it started to get to him, he'd spend most of his time completely drunk. He noticed his skin was starting to change colors just a little bit from the constant abuse of alcohol, cigarettes, and pills he really didn't need. He wondered if this meant he was dying, he didn't really care. He felt less human, but at the time he felt more human. He didn't even know anymore, he had emotions that he wasn't used to. Emotions that being around 2D had caused, he assumed with the singer away the feelings would go with him. They hadn't, they had only gotten worse over the time, weeks turned into months, and then months turned into years.
He had to admit he missed his fucked up little family, his band. He couldn't help but wonder where Russel was at, if Noodle was alright with whatever she found out about herself back in Japan, and he had to wonder if 2D had decided he rather stay at home with his parents….Shit maybe he found some bird and was living with her now, had a kid or two….Probably married, she was probably a bitch.
He felt stupid at the thought, at the fact that his heart felt tight in his chest when he thought about it. Sometimes he would go into the singer's vacant bedroom and just spend time in there. Sometimes he would sleep in there, other times he would go through his things. The younger man hadn't packed a whole lot, but still the bassist couldn't help, but worry that they were never coming back.
He couldn't help blaming himself; he hated what he was becoming. He had tried acting like nothing bothered him, like 2D meant nothing to him….he didn't mean anything to him, he was just some idiot he hit with his car, through in his band, and fucked sometimes. The blue haired idiot meant absolutely nothing to him, but yet the idea of never seeing him again made him feel something. Something he had hoped would die with all of his other organs with each bottle he drank.
He needed to get out, go somewhere different. He couldn't stay in Kong anymore, he wouldn't abandon, but he needed a vacation of some sort. He'd go back in a few weeks maybe, maybe by then he'd hear from one of his band mates and they'd be ready to see each other again. As long as he could get somewhere else and stop thinking about the dullard then he knew everything would be alright.