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The way he saw it, there were two types of quiet. Good quiet, and bad quiet.
Good quiet was the kitchen at five in the morning, just before the sun came up when everyone was asleep and it was just him and the quiet creaking of the floorboards and the dripping of the coffee maker. Good quiet was the foggy haze of just before you fell into a pain-med-induced sleep. It was the hum of a city heard from up top a tall building. It was existence in the present.
Bad quiet was the pencil-marked silence of a standardized test room. It was the still that came in the center of an argument, the locking of angry, hurt eyes. Bad quiet was the deafening un-sound after a door was slammed shut, after a thrown object smashed into the wall behind you. It was a calm after- or before- a storm.
That was the real trouble with bad silence, Stuart thought as he watched Murdoc pace about the kitchen, you never knew if the storm had just left or was about to strike.
He looked at the clock- 2:34, meaning Murdoc had only been back for about ten minutes. That morning (ok, twelve in the afternoon, but that's pretty standard for Muds) he had announced that he was going off to town to grab a few groceries. Unusual for the bass player, sure. But not too strange.
He came back earlier than expected, though. The trip to the shop was about forty minutes, meaning he couldn’t have been in town for much more than half an hour; but he sure came back seeming off. Weirdly silent, fidgety. After the few minutes it took for him to put away the three bags of groceries he’d got he stayed in the kitchen, opening and closing cupbards, drumming his fingers on the counter, before finally going to the garfield calendar on the fridge. 2D wasn’t sure where the thing came from- probably Russel or Noodle put it up at some point. Murdoc flipped a few pages until the calendar was turned to the current month, and circled a date- this Thursday, two days away.
“Wos ‘appening Thursday?”
Murdoc turned around, surprised. He seemed to have forgotten Stuart was there as he turned around to see him leaning forward on the couch. Stuart half expected him to throw something at him for asking, but the bass player had a strange look in his eyes. A watery far-awayness. It made Murdoc look younger, smaller. Stuart always forgot he was just twenty six, normally he seemed so much older than him. It was concerning seeing him like this.
“I uh…Have to go see my dad.” Oh. Stuart didn’t know much about Murdoc’s father, but he knew enough to vaguely understand why Muds was behaving like this. He was surprised he was even willing to talk to the man… So why was he seeing him again?
Murdoc answered his question before he was able to gather the nerve to ask it. “When I was out I ran into an ol’ family friend. He’s in hospital.” He didn’t know what to say.
“Wot? Oh god… Muds. I’m so sorry.” Murdoc just nodded vaguely and trudged toward the car park, disappearing inside his Winnebago.
A few hours later he and Russell were sitting in the living room, the tv the only sound in the room before 2D broke the silence.
“Should I go talk to him?” Russell raised an eyebrow at him and snorted.
“I don’t know, man. You tryna die?”
Stuart huffed and folded his arms. “Should I at least, I dunno, text him or somefink?”
“Text him what?”
“Maybe I could offer to go with him, so he won't ‘ave to go alone.”
“He’s a grown man, D. He don’t need your scrawny ass to keep him company while he visits his dad.”
He looked down at his phone in his hands, not listening to Russell anymore, a new message to Murdoc already pulled up on the screen. “I mean, an offer couldn't hurt…”
The bigger man laughed, getting up off the sofa. “Aight, if you’re really that desperate to get the shit kicked outta you, far be it from me to get in your way.”
He stared at the screen for a while, trying to formulate the right way to phrase it.
He began to type Do you want me to, Before erasing it. No, much too polite for their usual conversations.
When you go to the hospital I can… No, still not right. He deleted it.
I could go with you, If you want. Yeah. That was ok. He sent it.
Murdoc read it a few minutes later, the ellipses showing he was typing back showing on the phone screen, Stuart stared at it, feeling stupid as he waited for the response anxiously.
Muds: ...
Muds: Where
He typed back. The hospital
Muds: Why
Thinking for a minute he settled on: not a nice thing to do alone, is it?
Muds: …
Muds: Fine. We leave at 5. Don’t embarrass me.
Over the next two days Murdoc was seen around the studios even less than usual. He began to feel worried about him, and even more anxious about how Thursday would end up.
That morning he got up earlier than usual, eight, but that probably was normal hours for most people. He showered, brushed his teeth, and took a few more pills than usual that morning. He found himself feeling growingly more nervous as he looked at himself in the mirror, scanning over his messy nest of aqua hair and dark circles under huge empty eyes, the gap where his front teeth used to be, his lanky thin frame. He was going to meet Murdoc’s dad today, he felt like the realization just hit him as he tried to find something to wear.
It was almost relieving as he saw Murdoc come into the living room dressed more or less like his usual self. Black shirt, inverted cross necklace, battered looking jeans and… Combat boots? It was strange seeing the man without his usual cuban heels, he looked so much… smaller without the extra height, without the cocky grin he always seemed to wear along with them. Stuart couldn’t help but stare, looking away in embarrassment when
Murdoc caught him and glared.
By the time it was nearly five he had walked out to the car park, knocking on the Winnebago’s metal door. Murdoc opened the door nearly immediately, an expressionless mask over his face. “Is it time to go then?” Stuart nodded and they got in the Geep.
They had already been traveling for around twenty wordless minutes before he piped up. “Should we stop fo flowers or somefink?”
“Why?”
“Uh, I dunno. It’s what people do isn’t it? When they visit relatives in the hospital. Bring ‘em flowers or a card or somefink.”
Murdoc seemed to silently consider this for a moment before pulling into the next gas station. He hopped out of the car and disappeared inside for a few minutes, coming back out with a bag. Stuart peeked inside, it held several packs of cigarettes and a bottle of cheap whiskey, along with a red gift bag. He looked up at Murdoc.
“My old man’s not a flowers kinda guy.” He explained. Stuart chuckled.
“Runs in the family then?” He joked, Murdoc grinned for a moment before his face fell into an odd expression and he kept driving.
They arrived at the hospital a while later. Murdoc awkwardly shoved the bottle and cigarettes into the gift bag and pushed a bit of tissue paper over it. Oh yeah Stuart thought they aren't allowed alcohol or cigarettes in hospital. The two men walked toward the entrance, Murdoc stopping 2D right before they went inside, grabbing his shoulder roughly.
“Right. Faceache, don't do nothing to embarrass me while we're in there alright?”
2D nodded hurriedly, a little relieved to have Muds acting like himself again.
They went to check in with a nurse at the visiting station. The woman had floral patterned scrubs and natural hair pulled up into a neat bun; at first she didn't notice them, seeming too absorbed in the tabloid magazine she was reading. She put it down and smiled nervously at them when they told her they were seeing Sebastian Niccals.
“We didn't expect Mr. Niccals to get visitors. Well-Right this way!”
She led them down the halls into a single hospital room. “Normally patients like this share rooms but ah, Mr. Niccals is a little unique. I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you boys!” She said with a customer service smile before briskly walking off as fast as she could.
Murdoc seemed to steel himself for a moment, holding in a deep breath then releasing it as he opened the door.
The room seemed to be in a bit of a state- a roll-in table was on the floor, curtains had been pulled off the window and onto the floor, and the only remaining painting in the room was hanging skewed to the side. In the middle of it all, Sebastian Jacob Niccals lay with his arms folded in the hospital bed.
Murdoc nodded a greeting to his father. “Dad. ‘S been awhile.”
The elder man scowled in response and grumbled “What the fuck’s wrong with Hannibal?” Looking at 2D.
“That's not-” Murdoc began before his band mate interrupted.
“ ‘ello Mr. Niccals I'm Stuart! E’ryone calls me 2D though, if you prefer.” He introduced friendly.
Murdoc’s father raised and eyebrow and turned to his son. “Always knew you were a faggot. That why you came? Introduce me to your… whatever you call it?”
Stuart was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the man spoke; he turned toward Murdoc with his face bright red, who seemed to have drained of all color.
“I'm not- we're not- We- We're in a band together! That's it!”
“Hmmph.” The man responded. “What's that for, then?” He asked, nodding to the bag clutched in Murdoc’s hand, the red paper ripped where his nails had been digging in. 2D noted they weren't painted, even though they had been a day ago.
“It's ah… a get well gift I s’pose. Here-” He put the bag on the bed next to him. The elder Niccals looked through it, smirking when his eyes fell across the bottle.
“For once you're good for something” He remarked with a smile and took a swig straight out of the bottle.
Murdoc seemed to ignore the comment and surveyed the room instead. “This place’s in a bit of a state…”
His father grinned. Stu noted with discomfort that it reminded him of Murdoc, but more nasty, more… mean spirited. “Hehe, that bitch nurse came in here, askin’ all sorts a questions an’ puttin ‘er hands on me. Said she was checking on me circulation or somethin like that. Threw me shoes at ‘er and told ‘er to mind ‘er own business an’ fuck off.” The man laughed like this was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen. “She knocked over quite a few things on the way out though… now they only send interns in here for a few minutes at a time.”
Murdoc forced out a laugh at the story.
2D was uncomfortable watching the stilted interaction between Murdoc and his father. Normally, the bassist was the most charismatic speaker of the group; it was strange seeing the man looking so self conscious and unsure in a conversation. Stu almost felt bad for him in a strange way; even he could make the standard ‘checking in’ chat with his parents when they called on birthdays or during the rare event he went back and visited them.
After about an hour more of awkward, mostly silent visitation with Murdoc’s father, he finally got an out. Sebastian was thumbing through a newspaper and Muds leaned over to ask him “Fancy a smoke?”
He, of course, nodded immediately and booked it out of the room, which had begun to feel claustrophobic. The air outside of the hospital felt amazing, sure it was chilly in the March weather and full of exhaust from the highway outside, but anything away from fluorescent lighting and that sterile hospital smell seemed wonderful.
Stuart remembered the first time he and Murdoc smoked together.
It had been during the band’s first few rehearsals, the group stopped to take five and Murdoc immediately fished a pack out of his pocket and lit two cigarettes, handing one to Stuart.
“Wha-”
“Found a packet in yer pocket when you were a vegetable on my couch. Took the liberty of helping m’self to em. Thought I should return the favor”
The truth of the matter was that he hadn't smoked since he got out of his coma. He figured in the months unconscious the nicotine had time to flush from his system or something, he didn't really care. It was good to have broken the habit, but strange; he didn't feel quite like himself.
As he had looked at Murdoc holding out the lit cig he was reminded of when he was a kid and they still had cigarette ads in magazines. Murdoc would have made a good Lucky Lungs advert, he thought, looking cool and mysterious all in black, wrapped in a leather jacket and surrounded by the fog and neon lights of a London night as smoke poured through his mouth while he smiled and talked. He couldn't help but accept the object held out to him. Ever since then Stuart smoked more than he ever had in his life; though he would never admit it, it was mostly just so that he could take Murdoc up on any future offers to join him on smoke breaks.
That was the position they were in now, same one they'd been in since this whole band started; 2D stealing glances at Murdoc between drags off a cigarette, trying to figure out what he was thinking based only on his breathing and guarded facial expressions.
After a particularly long, smoky exhale Murdoc quietly muttered “M’sorry ‘bout that Paula girl.”
Stuart was caught off guard. Sure, they had fought a lot after everything that happened with Paula- even coming to blows on multiple occasions- and they never really settled their anger after Russell forced them to drop it. But Murdic never showed any remorse before, 2D thought the bassist wasn't even capable of apologizing at all.
He didn't say anything back and Murdoc continued speaking.
“You must’ve uh… liked ‘er a lot.”
“... I didn't care about Paula.”
“Huh?” Murdoc looked up from the asphalt for the first time since they went outside, even meeting Stuart's eyes in confusion. “Y-you went bloody mad every time I brought up me an’ ‘er shagging, mate. Seemed like you cared.”
“I was upset, ‘cause you didn't think before doing somefink like that t’ me. It ‘urts when someone you care about don't care about you.” 2D kept his eyes fixed on his sneakers, just waiting for him to burst out cackling.
“You were surprised?” Murdoc sounded amused, Stuart felt his stomach start to turn with embarrassment.
“N-no. Course not. ‘S just… you were the first person that thought I was any good for anyfink. You said I was the perfect frontman. I thought you… it was the first time I felt I mattered…” he let out a quiet, bitter chuckle “I actually thought you cared about me.”
He took another drag off his cig, not looking at Murdoc as he finished with sad humor. “You always said I was stupid. Guess you're right.”
A long silence passed before Murdoc spoke, looking him right in the eye this time “... yer not that stupid.”
2D felt the corner of his mouth twitch up a bit. “Fanks. Hey Muds?”
“Yeah?”
“Let's go home.”
“Wot about-”
“I dun think he'll mind, c’mon, let's just go”
They were a few miles into the drive when Murdoc asked him if he wanted to stop to get a bite to eat. Stu was about to lie and say no- at this point he just desperately wanted some time alone to think- when his growling stomach answered for him. The bassist pulled over at an all night diner.
It was strange being there so early (okay, it was eight o’clock, but still) they had been here before for midnight food after some of their shows. The place was relatively full, but quiet. Peaceful groups of families and friends eating at a respectable hour, unlike the scattered clusters of rowdy drunks getting snacks and tired truckers that normally occupied the restaurant when they were there. The cracked mint paint on the wall seemed more faded in daylight, and the ripped pleather booths seemed somehow less charming.
They sat across from each other in a booth in the back corner, making idle chitchat while Stu fidgeted with the salt shakers.
He looked up while Murdoc was in the middle of one of his stories “An so I told ‘m ‘Mate, this ain't disorderly, I'll show you disorderly!’ You shoulda seen ‘is face, Dents! It's was bloody precious!”
Stuart smiled at him and laughed. When the satanist was talking and grinning like this, he could understand why so many girls flocked to him. He certainly had a roguish charm, messy black hair falling over mismatched deep eyes, harsh jawline and wicked grin. Even his offset nose gave his face the perfect amount of rebellious wildness.
The staff was more alert than they were used to- servers were never much for conversation at four am. Their waitress seemed to be flirting with 2D, leaning over with a purple manicured hand on his arm and letting her long brown hair brush over his shoulder as she pointed to items on the menu when he asked about vegetarian options. Murdoc didn't seem so charmed.
“Alright, if you need anything just holler for me” she said with a wink.
“Yeah, I think we’ll be alright.” The bassist said with a poorly concealed glare as she walked off to place their orders.
“She's… friendly” Stu grinned, amused.
“Hmmph. But too friendly if ye ask me.”
Dinner was unexpectedly pleasant. The two men ate slowly, taking bites in short breaks in their conversation. Stuart had almost forgotten how nice spending time with Murdoc could be when he was in a good mood.
“Where’s yo’ nail polish?” Stu finally asked. He'd been wondering about it since he first noticed them that morning.
“Huh?” The older man looked at his hands, as if he'd forgotten.
“They were painted black a day ago, where’d the paint go?”
“Oh” Murdoc feigned not noticing it before, even though he clearly had. “I uh… took it off. Dad doesn't like it when they're painted, always says- Well it doesn't matter. I just didn't want to give him too much to bitch about.”
Stu nodded distantly.
Once they were each a few Irish Coffees in- “Heavy on the Irish” Murdoc requested- they began to talk about more personal matters. Conversation about music and funny stories slowly turned into talk of exes and past life experiences.
“What’d ye think of my old man?” He asked.
Stu put down his coffee and scoffed. “He's a right bastard innit ‘e?”
Murdoc grinned “Imma chip off the ol’ block then, eh?”
“No.”
“Wot d’you mean? We’re exactly alike.” He seemed surprised.
“You can be a grade A tosser sometimes, Muds, I'll give y’ that. But yo’ dad? He's just… You're not like him.” 2D looked him right in the eyes he said it.
A heavy silence rested between them for a moment before Murdoc spoke.
“Thanks, Dents.”
Dinner carried on for a while as the two of them talked on, laughing and smiling. Eventually Murdoc looked up at the clock set by the kitchen doors.
“Christ, it’s nearly midnight! We outta head home soon, Russ’ll be pissed at me for keeping you out this late.”
2D rolled his eyes and called for the check. Murdoc reached for his wallet but he waved him away.
“I got it.”
Murdoc shrugged and grabbed his jacket “suit yourself then.”
Stu grabbed the Geep keys from their spot on the table. “I'm driving too.”
The bassist opened his mouth to protest but shut up when Stuart pointedly looked at Murdoc’s side of the table. There were several more mugs and even two drink glasses from when he switched from coffees to rum and cokes. He let the singer drive without further argument.
Going home in a pleasant kind of quiet, tuned in to an oldies station on the radio as they watched the stars along with orange and white lights of the few other cars pass them by. He almost felt disappointed when they finally reached the car park of Kong Studios. Murdoc stumbled on the way out of the car and they laughed.
“Those Irish Coffees really sneak up on you, eh?” The bassist grinned.
2D snorted. “I dunno, maybe the fifth one does, you ol’ boozer.”
Murdoc grinned as Stu walked with him to his Winnebago. “So is this how most of your dates go, Stu-boy? Listen to their daddy issues, pay for dinner, and then walk ‘em home? What a gentleman.”
He laughed again. “I don’ go on dates.”
“Why not? You're… pretty.” Murdoc snickered to himself at his joke, he was still pretty buzzed and was hanging a lot of his bodyweight on his singer for support.
“I dunno… never know what to say, I guess.”
“Oh so I'm one of the best then”
“This ain't a date Muds.” Stuart countered as they reached the door of the mobile home.
Murdoc grinned wickedly and leaned close enough for Stu to smell the coffee on his breath. “Not without a goodnight kiss ‘S not.” 2D leaned forward as if my magnetic force and looked distantly into the bassist’s glazed eyes.
Their lips collided. He wasn't sure who had moved forward first, but decided it didn't matter as Murdoc opened his mouth slightly and sighed contentedly as he leaned in forward. Stu had finally picked up the courage to put his hands on the satanist’s waist, and had felt his fingertips barely brush against the fabric of his shirt when Murdoc pulled back. He snapped out of his daze in surprise.
“G’night, faceache. ‘S been lovely.”
The clang of the metal door alerted Stu to the fact that he was now alone. The hum of the overhead lighting in the car park seemed overbearing all of the sudden as he walked inside alone.
He went straight to the kitchen as he got in the building. He wasn't really hungry, he just needed a glass of water and something about the kitchen made it a great spot to think.
He was halfway through his second cigarette and his first glass of water when he noticed Russell staring at him. He looked down at the cig in his hand and considered putting it out- Russ hated it when he and Murdoc smoked inside, especially in the kitchen where Noodle might see them. Stu said Noodle knew they smoked, but Russ said it didn't matter, it was about setting an example. He didn't fight him when he got all ‘dad’ about things, really it was better Noodle grew up with a strong family structure. Unlike…
“So I take it you had a rough night.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Bastard. “Chillin’ with Muds’s Dad wasn't as fun as you thought, huh?”
He sighed and shook his head. “I don't wanna talk about it.”