She's ignoring him now.
He told Noodle about her, the little girl named Annabelle spawned from a drunken haze.
"'ey're visiting soon," he whispered, pointing the girl, "She 'n 'er mum. For a wee'. Sh'ees real swee', dun really see me as a da' 'ough, more li' a distant uncle. Sh'ees teh only one tha' was real, you know; all teh others 'ere fake, 'azy birds left and righ' dyed their babies' 'air blue but 'er? I knew righ' away. She had my eyes, tha' one did...er, my eyes from b'fore Muds 'n all. Not t'ese ones."
He pointed to his eyes when she stood up quietly, handing the picture back to him and he watches her trod out through the darkness, the sounds of her trek squeaking down the steps, disappearing from his view.
And then that was that.
At first it was a night, then two, then three, then four, and now it's been a fortnight since he's last seen her. He thinks he should feel hurt, offended, but he doesn't. Months of just being for hours on end halting abrupt. He doesn't know what he did, maybe he didn't do anything, maybe he did, and maybe she was fine now. She's her own person after all.
It doesn't hurt.
Really.
No company to dribble on the day with, he doesn't have to wait for her to come or pressure when she wants to do something else. He can do what he wants, when he wants, however he wants.
He's been doing what he's done by himself long before she tagged herself along.
So, no.
He's not lonely.
He's not.
At all.
How awkward it was, to meet up with a past one night stand and their child who he's only met barely three times prior during her infant stage. It's late in the evening now and he's standing there, waiting for the train to pull up, the pitter patter of the rain surrounding the station, wet boots and shaking umbrellas reverberating around him. Charging footsteps registering in his conscious in the far off space.
"It's you!"
Bony arms wrapped around him, an excited squeal shocking him, the small bundle of nerves in him strikes in full force as he gets tackled with nostalgic blue eyes and girlish energy.
He squints down at his attacker, a grin warming through slowly, clapping his would-be attacker's shoulder lively.
"Hello, Annabelle."
Annabelle drags him through the station; apparently he was at the wrong one. She pulls him to a stop in front of two ladies and he only recognizes one of them, Mary, though vaguely. He turns to the unfamiliar one, a greeting on his tongue when Annabelle interrupts him.
"Look Mummy! Mum was right; he was in a different station!"
He looks at Annabelle and then at women in front of him, noticing their hands clasped together tightly, his eyebrows notched high in interest.
Huh.
Strange.
Why does he feel relief?
2D walks them to the closest tea shop and takes a table in the far back corner. Sinking in the cushion, he hands Annabelle a few quid to surprise them with an order, the other woman, Emily, she said her name was, following after her.
Mary smirked at him from across the seat, copying his stare to the girl and the slightly portly woman next to her. He cleared his throat, unsure on what to say. He didn't really know her besides that one night, well, he didn't really remember that one either. He didn't know her at all.
"I 'idn't know you 'ere..."
The lady in front of him stops him short, amused, "Lesbian? Neither did I, but it happens. We've been together for just about ten years now. Where else did you think the baby got her sweetness from? Certainly not from me and most definitely not from you."
2D snickered in agreement.
Alright. He could take that.
They distract him from his thinking and he's happy to be so, if only slightly.
They meet four times that week; the first day spent touring the local area which wasn't much. Muds didn't really pick a busy location to live in this time around. But 2D tries to make it fun, he takes them to the park, the market; the little café off the side of the road that Noodle discovered on one of their walks. She liked their little cakes.
He thinks he'll buy her one though he's not sure she'll eat it.
Annabelle likes it, and Mary, and Emily.
So he buys one, sticks it in the fridge and forgets about it.
Whether Noodle eats it or not, it's still there, waiting.
Not that he checks.
Annabelle is leading him though a toy store in London, what a fourteen year old wants with a toy store, he can't think of it, but she's having fun. They pass by tall racks, filled with dolls and puzzles. A mountain of stuffed animals piled high enraptures the girl's attention and she drops his hand, pivoting on the balls of her feet excitedly.
"Go on ahead," he smiles, "I'll buy you one."
Then she's off, jumping into the fray of toys and other children and he's stuck by himself to wander the store without her. Alone. Mary and Emily had left them earlier for a date, and while he hopes they have a good time, he's alone now and there's not much else to do but circle the store until Annabelle wins whatever fight she's having with a twelve year old holding a rather peculiar looking cat plush.
2D wonders when the last time he's been in a toy store, they had those figures made years ago but he doesn't think that counts. There are all sorts of stuff now. Like slime. Though slime looks like snot but he guesses some strange children like it enough for it to be a business. There are also paddle-balls and hula-hoops and other knick-knacks.
He's looking at all the boxes, the colorful packaging, when something catches his eye. A dinky little box that has him interested, its name plastered in bold font.
Telescopes.
That's what Noodle called them, right?
He thinks so.
2D calls for assistance, walking towards the nearest employee, his strides quick and the box outreached when he shows it to the worker.
"'tis thin', 'tis…er…'telly-sco'," he says slowly, unsure on how to pronounce the word, "You use 'tis to loo' outsi', righ'? To 'ee stars? At nigh'?"
The worker blinks, taking in his appearance, bobbing his head uncertainly in confirmation. The worker takes the box from his hands and despite being dazzled, explains to the singer, using big words 2D didn't care for, something like a beginner's set and that they had much more advanced versions online they could order for him. He declines though, on the offer, this one in his hand is good and simple.
He likes simple.
Annabelle greets him at the front, when he's pulling out his card to pay, her smile is victorious and he pays for her winnings without a thought. She's going on about what she's found and how she ripped it out of a rude posh boy's grubby hands, not paying much mind to 2D's trailing thoughts as they stroll around the corner where her mums wait patiently for them.
He really likes simple.
He isn't sure if he wants to tonight, but he would like to see the stars soon. Maybe he would find that sailor bear Noodle told him about. Or perhaps the moon, that bugger has been hiding for at least two days now.
Has it always done that?
He wants to know.
Russel is normal again. Like magic. He tells 2D it was science, but 2D doubts him. He believes it was magic. Makes more sense that way, magic that is.
He hasn't seen Noodle for a long time now, face to face. Just glances spanning for half seconds and then she's gone and he doesn't see her ever.
Noodle must know magic, too.
That's what he thinks usually now, but then he'll spy her through the window, lugging an unconscious Murdoc over her shoulder to pull him in, a disapproving Russel greeting them when he opens the door for her.
This goes on and on like a pattern.
There's one consistent thing though, that Noodle does.
She leaves Muds on the kitchen tile every night he accompanies her to the local club. Occasionally, 2D's feeling generous and goes down to retrieve the older man, tossing the bassist in his room. Russel doesn't bother and sometimes 2D doesn't feel so nice.
She could've asked him to accompany her; he thinks he would've been just as if not more fun than Murdoc. He wouldn't leave her side or drink without abandon, ultimately burdening her to bring him home.
He dances better, too.
He sees her once again now, treading just before dawn. His head was peeking out the window with the telescope resting over his eye, looking beyond, when he hears her. A plastered Murdoc once again by her side and she's looking up, an audible sigh of exasperation echoing the street before stifling, lost. Seconds pass, minutes even, hours – a lifetime flying, when he pulls the telescope away, matching her unblinkingly.
Until that, too, ends far too soon.
Muds' vomit on the steps, the only evidence the fleeting exchange ever occurred.
But that is also washed away in the late morning.
Like magic.
He's saying goodbye to them now, to Annabelle and to Mary and to Emily.
"We'll call you when we land back in Australia," Emily says, handing the cabbie their trunks and leads Annabelle to her seat, buckling her in; both leaving Mary alone to talk to him. She gives him a hug, a fast, awkward little thing and releases him, stepping back towards the taxi.
"Why don't you just try and talk to her? That girl that has your mind all scrambled?" Mary smirked, keeping her voice low, "You were pretty obvious."
Alarmed surprise escapes him, jumping on his words unintelligently when she shushes him with a laugh, climbing into the passenger seat.
Obvious?
"Oh, and 2D?"
He meets her eyes, a kind smile lighting up her face.
"Good luck."
He watched noncommittally, enclosing on himself, lost in thought; waving as the car drove off and out in the distance.
He should talk to her, shouldn't he?
But he doesn't.
He doesn't and sits there in the dark, the telescope in his hand, listening to Russel's snoring and Murdoc's stumbling.
Doesn't do anything but sit and think and think and sit.
He doesn't see the bear in a boat in the sky, doesn't find the moon, doesn't talk to her.
His hand over his heart, soothing the twinge in his chest, he must have forgotten a dosage because he isn't lonely, isn't sad, isn't anything.
Honestly.
He isn't.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
But he is.
And he does.
He misses the moon, and them, and then.
And her.