I KNOW I SAID I'D DO A TON OF UPDATES ON THE A/N IN ONE OF MY OHTER STROIES, BUT I GOT STRESSED BECAUSE I START SCHOOL TOMORROW. I honestly dread it DX Welp, it's been kinda hard for me to draw or write because I'm kinda depressed, so I really hope you enjoy this extra long chapter. If I don't update it's because of school.
MURDOC'S P.O.V.
Satan hooked me up with the best lawyer there is! I can't believe he was able to get me off too! I was expecting the trial to last longer than it did, but we only had to do one hearing before my attorney took care of it. I got all of my charges dropped too!
But Satan decided he was gonna have me take care of this idiot until he wakes up. If he wakes up.
I swear, Beezle can be an ass sometimes…
And you know what's bad?
He's opened his eyes and can't close them...
So I have to take care of him while he stares at me and slobbers. It's even creepier with his left eye black the way it is. At least I know what hy-whatever the fuck is.
What's worse than that?
He has to stay in my flat.
I repeat; my flat. It's too small just having me in there. And there's only one room, so he's on the couch. He's in my house, sleeping on my couch, living rent fucking free. And when I asked the idiot's parents for money so I could buy food and for rent, you know what I got?
A fucking slap in the face.
Apparently it's not okay to ask for rent from the idiot's parents after you put him in a coma and "you're lucky to not be in jail getting fucked up the arse."!
They should be happy I at least thought about feeding the dullard!
But, the worst part of it all?
I have to take care of him for 30,000 hours.
My lawyer seemed to think that taking care of the kid for 30,000 hours would "put me on the law's good side" instead of taking care of him for 10 hours a week and doing community service for 30,000 hours like I was sentenced originally.
It's not like the pigs would say "Oh, you're taking care of the vegetable, right? I understand why you got piss fucking drunk then drove yourself home, so you're off the hook.", so why the Hell do I have to do this shit anyway?!
But wait; there's more!
The doctors told me to talk to the git so his brain can continue working or some shit.
I have to talk to a vegetable for 30,000 hours…
Are you fucking kidding me?
I rolled the wheelchair the kid was sitting in into my flat with his parents close behind. They wanted to check and make sure my flat was 'suitable for living in'. I cleaned up here and there, but other than that it was still junky as fuck. Not that it really mattered, they agreed to this, and they can't change their fucking minds, even if they wanted to.
"Okay, here's what you'll be needing." Rachel (that's his mother) handed me a couple bottles of pain pills.
"And remember," She added. "He has migraines a lot, so if he looks like he's in pain or starts whining then pop a couple of those," she motioned to the bottles in my hand. "In his mouth. Also, he's allergic to pickles, so make sure you don't feed him any."
I grumbled and nodded, ignoring the dirty look David (his father) gave me.
"Please, take care of our little boy." Rachel said as she planted a kiss on his forehead.
"I will." I said.
They left out of the front door and I immediately rolled my eyes. I shifted my gaze to the veggie sitting in the middle of my living room and unstrapped him from the wheelchair and picked him up. Then I threw him onto the couch. Literally. Luckily he landed on there and didn't roll off.
Not that I would've cared anyway.
I turned around to get some rum from the kitchen. On my way there I decided to mock his mother.
"Oh, he has migraines a lot. He's allergic to pickles…" I said in a voice higher than usual.
God really hates my fucking guts, because right then and there I banged my foot into the table leg.
Hard.
"GAH! MY FUCKING FOOT!" I grabbed it and started to hop on the other.
Then, I heard the faintest giggling coming from the living room.
STUART P.O.V.
Finally! I was able to make a sound, even if it was a bit quiet.
Obviously Murdoc heard me, because he (somehow) turned around slowly to face me (while he was still clutching his foot, by the way) and he stared at me in bewilderment.
"What the fuck?" He said as he dropped his foot to the floor and limped over to where I was sitting.
He continued to stare at me like I was some alien from Neptune. I looked up at him, trying my best to keep me eyelids up.
"You… you can see me?"
Yes, I'm not blind. I wanted to say that but once again my vocal chords failed to make a complete sentence, so I ended up groaning instead.
He jumped back a little. "You can hear too?!"
God, I'm not dumb. I groaned again.
"Holy shit…" He said. He looked down at me then exhaled and yanked my shirt up to wipe the corner of my mouth free of drool that began to run down my face.
"Now it won't be so awkward talking to you." He said as his eyes drifted down to my torso. "You need some meat on your bones." He said as he pushed my shirt down.
Then my stomach growled loudly.
He grinned evilly. "Looks like you need food in your stomach." He picked me up and propped me up against himself and walked to the front door. "We can take care of that problem. Especially since you can't say a thing about it."
He put me on the passenger's side of his car before getting in himself and starting the engine.
"Before I forget…" He combed my hair over my left eye with his fingers.
He sped off to God-knows-where and drove for about 10 minutes before slowing down. I heard him get out. A few minutes later he got back in and the aroma of food filled my nose.
"I had them super-size it for you…"
I made an audible groan.
This is going to be a long night of force feeding.
He drove back to his flat and took the food in before coming back to get me. He sat down on the couch and grabbed a burger. He took a bite before spitting it back out and putting it in my mouth.
Ew…
He continued doing this with three other burgers before taking a napkin and wiping the drool from my lips.
"It's like taking care of a baby." He complained. Once he finished his food he went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of rum.
"The doctors said I have to talk to you." He twisted the cap off and took a long swig. "This ought to make it easier on myself."
One bottle of rum later he's telling me about his childhood. I don't know if this has happened before I went back or not. Either way I feel bad for him.
"H-he *hick* buh. Buh. Beat meh wifff a-a-a-a lead piiiipe. Can you-can you- can you believe tha', Veggieee Booooy? How do-do you beat your little brother wifff a lead pipe? Juss' because he annoys you?" He tipped the bottle upwards and leaned back a little to take another gulp, spilling some of the alcohol onto his shirt.
"The-the-the baaad par' abou' ih? You really wanna know, huh, huh?" He nudged me. "C'moooon Veggie Boooooyyy. Ya wanna kn-know wha's SOOO *hick8 baaaad ?" He stopped talking and waited for my response.
My vocal chords have failed me once again, so I barely groan a response.
"That-that bastard let 'is friends, his-his-his friendsss, beat me wifff tha' lead piiiipe to! Can you-you belieffff tha' Stuuuu?"
I looked up at him, trying to keep my eye lids open because I've had a long night. Slowly they start to close.
"*hick* No!" He shook me awake. "Yer-yer-yer stayin' up wiffff meh tooonigh'."
I averted me eyes and groaned.
2 bottles of rum and half a bottle of Jack Daniels later, he has his arm around my shoulder, swaying left to right.
"*hick**hick* You-you-you-you know… I've alwaysss been an outcassst. Alwaysss beeeeen diiiifffrennnt. I-I-I-I consssiderred mehselfff a-a-a*hick* w-w-w one maaan wolffff pack." He slurred more than before. He drank from the bottle again and almost finished before spilling the rest onto himself, drenching his neck. He groaned in annoyance.
He got quiet, stopped swaying us, put his head down and closed his eyes. I thought he'd went to sleep, so I finally relaxed and drifted off as well. Then his head shot up and he loudly belted out a song, swaying us from left to right harder than before.
"ONE ISSSS THE LONLIESSSS' NUMBAH' DARE COUL'… EVAH BEEEEEEEE!" His voice was scratchy from all of the liquor, and overall sounded horrible. My eyes shot open as far as they could open.
"TTTTWOOOOO ISSSSSSS *hick* AS LONLAY AS LONLEH AS OOOONNNNNNE." He continued, louder than before.
"Waih, tha' ain't rrrroight…." He thought for a second then started shout/singing again even louder.
"TTTTTWOOOOOOOOOO CAAAAAAAN BEEE ASSS…. BAAAAAAAD AS W-W- ONNNNNE."
By now I'm almost in tears, and I feel sick.
All of the rocking he's doing made us fall over to the side, so his head in now on my chest.
"S-s-s-sssssssorrrrrry." He apologized.
Then he blew his stomach acids on my arm…
I'm positive a tear rolled down my cheek.
It's really hot, and it almost feels like there's a slight burning sensation where the puke it.
Ewwww….
"I'm-I'm-I'm sorrrrry, Ssssstuuu." He attempted to sit up, but toppled over the edge of the couch, face making contact with the floor first.
Murdoc giggled a bit before throwing up once again.
And again…
And again…
Until finally he passed out.
Great. I have to sleep with puke on my arm…
Not just anyone's puke… Puke that belongs to the shit faced drunk man in charge of taking care of me until I either wake up or die.
This is going to be a long 29, 986 more hours…
