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Dark Heart	By : Bells Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Gorillaz Views: 6566 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Gorillaz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Mindless #4

Warnings: I changed most of the character’s backgrounds and ‘real’ names, so bear with me; I was on one of my more annoying creative streaks. YAOI (or SLASH in English), violence, rape, shonen ai (or boy/boy love in English), Murdoc’s POV, violence, S/M relationship.

Pairings: An odd slashy Muds/2D type thing goin’ on, and, once again, I added Sable to the picture.

Thanks: To my mum fer being the bitch she is and grounding me to my room for a week…thus giving me the “down time” needed to find all me old Gorillaz junk and become inspired to write this Arc.

Reviews: Would be appreciated greatly! Practical analysis will be accepted and taken into consideration; however flames that were MEANT to insult me will be laught, st, stripped, and left to run naked among my review board. Muahahahahaha. Eat me you critics!

~*~

Cursing loudly I chucked the wrench at the far concrete wall. Satisfied with the echoing clank, I sighed and looked back down at my work. The engine was refusing to respond to me, and here I sat leaning over the rim of the hood looking like the idiot I was, without a clue as to what 2D had done to my baby.

“Fucking dullard.”

I hissed silently, scanning over the rusted green and black colored engine parts. Visibly, nothing was wrong, but I knew something was. My Geep always started when I first turned it on, not on the third try.

Stretching, as I stood straighter, I closed my eyes and yawned. I had not been able to sleep this night, or last night, or the night before that, or the night before that, or this entire week for that matter. I wasn’t sure why either. It was already around 2 in the morning and, cursing vociferously, I began to complain. Stridently.

“This bloody fucking sucks, and I can’t even GO anywhere!! ARG! Fuck this country and its God!”

Taking in a deep, hopefully soothing breath I sighed and turned, back now facing my open engine. I suddenly wished I hadn’t drunk all my liquor. Leaning back now, sitting slightly against my grill, I growled low in my throat, warningly towards the general direction of 2D’s room. Stupid pixie.

As if on bloody fucking cue, his door opened, and soft music as well as dim lighting poured from the open room. There, in all his mused glory, stood the stamina of my life, his hair tussled and lacking geis eis eyes puffy and his night shirt hanging oh so ‘gracefully’ off one shoulder. His pajama pants were a little bit too big for him and the entire set was of a faded green hue. He had a thing for the basic colors.

Straining slightly, I could tell the music was classical, and in actual a wonderful melody, perfect for going to sleep with, but I don’t think the vocalist noticed me. Well, until he turned his head and found me watching him from my Geep.

“Hey Muds.” His voice was slightly cracked and sleep induced, his smile small and timid. My earlier anger almost vanished with the complete and utter innocence of that single gesture, the worst part being when he raised a thin fingered fist to rub at his right eye as he yawned. He was so…wanton.

“Hey.” I mumbled, twisting my head so that I couldn’t see the display.

“Still don’t know wot’s wrong with it eh?”

Turning back sharply, noting the slight pop of my neck cracking and realigning, I glared at him hard. Fucking tease, playing this act of purity and trying to seduce my mind into thinking he had nothing to do with my recent troubles and wealth of headaches. He laughed at the fact that I couldn’t sleep because of him, that I couldn’t go anywhere because of him, and that I couldn’en een enjoy getting laid because he haunted my thoughts, face twisted in ecstasy of pain instead of the hooker that was beneath me.

Stupid prick…I sniffed and then smirked just as vice. Fine, if he wanted to play this way, so be it. He would lay his own deathbed in sarcasm and a battle of w

“You’re not going to win, 2D.” I said slowly, still grinning, and looked back straightforward, watching my Bago as if at any moment it would suddenly up and start dancing. I heard the supple pads of his feet hitting the pavement as he moved closer to me at his own pace. I knew he was smiling back at me, although his eyes and façade was weary and begged to return to bed. The low calm of his music was still ringing softly throughout this side of the garage, the crickets chirping as if singing to its tune.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You should know better Murdoc. I’m hurt that you would find me incapable of getting what I already have to admit he wants this just as much as I do.”

His sentence had cut off as he reached my side, the words already a whispered promise, a threat if he ever stood corrected.

“I’m surprised more so though, that you’re actually attempting to resist…”

When he stopped talking briefly, I was a little tagerager to hear the rest. I jumped nearly literally out of my skin when a warm tongue laced my right ear.

“What the fuck was THAT for?” I hollered, taking a few steps back from the sinister chuckle and the now dominant stance.
“Stopping acting so naive Murdoc! You of all people should have figured out what I was up to as soon as I left my room.” He crowed gently in a deep voice so as not to disturb Noodle’s peaceful slumber. He stepped after me as I began to pace back once more, slower though, still in shock and startled trepidation.

If he ever gave the scare a chance to fall away he would get what he needed, his beatings, his physical medicine. And I would go along with it, in chance that maybe he wouldn’t harass me for a couple of days, or if I was lucky enough, a week. I had been so poised before he began to tempt me, now I was a walking mess of capitulation. I was so easily broken, and it seemed that every time 2D came after me, I lost more ground, I lost more pride.

“Leave me alone. For once, damnit! I need my space. I can’t keep doing this just whenever YOU feel like it. You’re going to kill me this way!”

He chuckled in return, stopping in his leisurely chase to eye me in a lighter mood.

“Stop shaking, you’re only going to make this easier for me.”
“So fucking what! You can’t provoke me like this, you’re abusing the right!”
“Its not abuse when you enjoy it yourself.”

We both stopped moving when my heel bumped the bottom step of my Winnebago and I fell back to sit on the same stair. His mouth twisted into a warmer gesture as he titled his head to the side cutely. Wait, rewind, pause. Cutely? When did I even dare go so far as to comment on 2D’s looks in such a delicate way? I don’t have that strong of feelings for him, and I know this! All we did was release each other’s anger and pent up frustration, sure we both became aroused by the S/M type relationship, but still! It never went further! Looking at the situation now, I slowly became aware that the beatings weren’t cutting it anymore. But, what more could 2D possibly want?

We had been playing fair since we started this, I gave 2D pain and he gave me his body [1]. Blood lust or not there was nothing else left to give or take, and I know he knows this. If he wanted something greater than mere blood, bruises, broken bones and cruelty, than he would have to give something just as large in return. He had nothing more I wanted to my current knowledge, and I doubted anything he could cook up would help my existence as his basic man slave. Yes, slave, it had gotten that bad. All he wanted with me any more was my potency and my odium. Unfortunately for him, his increased hunger was only taking more of my strength away.

Kneeling so suddenly I jerked in surprised, 2D came face to face with me, and clamped steel hands over my shoulders, effectively holding me still.

“You know what I want Murdoc. And I will have it.”

The space between a lightening bolt and a thunderclap is nothing more than an electric shock of vigor, which could just as easily kill a person as breaking their neck. In the case of sexual tension, that same amount of energy could render the receiving end helpless, lost, confused, and in my case, angered to an extent that all I saw was red.

2D had bent down and was kissing me, pliable lips moving against mine in inviting, yet empty motions.

Before I could think properly, I had raised my fist on reflex, suffering from the pain of my past, and buried it into the singer’s stomach. He moved away, gasping for breath, but laughing through it at the same time. I knew he expected that, or worse, but I couldn’t care less, and locked myself within my Bago.

I was still breathing hard when I heard the vocalist walk away. Even with my back against the door I knew 2D was smiling victoriously.

Still, with my vision painted in intense, pulsating, irate colors, I shuddered, and fell to the floor lifelessly, my Mask breaking mercilessly and diminishing to the floor a little too loudly for my ears. My precedent was rushing up on me, flooding my being and blocking all rational thought. No, I didn’t want to remember this! I had it locked away for a reason!

The memories of screams, of pain, memories of blood and money, memories of illness, of loss, of death and agony, they were all here, and now they mocked me with vindictive force. 2D’s kiss had unleashed them, had set them free to parade and destroy. My mind was whirling, faster and faster. Things I never wanted to even read about again crawled through my consciousness, until I couldn’t take anymore, and proceeded to black out with the picture of a small child, coal black hair and tear stained cheeks burning into my eyelids, a cursed classical melody playing somewhere in the background.

~*~ ith ith the rise of the mornings demanding sun, I awoke, fully recharged after finally having gotten some sleep. The moment of content was soon shattered as emotion after emotion hurled themselves against my chest. Gasping with the pain of realization, I remembered that 2D had broken through my shield of stoic calm and raging anger, creating the image of a saddened, depressed adolescent with just his lips. It hurt.

With the clash of all inspiring white-hot pain and the weakness of fear, I shrieked, loudly. It bounced off my thin walls and out into the day as an echo of its origin from the past, its brother and its twin. Grasping my chest with both hands, I ripped through my shirt, clawing at my skin until the tightness inside my ribcage loosened and I lost my voice.

As my breathing slowed and my heart rate lessened, I slumped inertly back to my carpeting. I felt suddenly so weak and marred, tears welled in my eyes and sobs played ‘catch’ in my throat with their taunting. No, I had not cried in years, now was not when I was to start again. Instead, I groaned and wiped at my eyelids furiously, then stood, legs wobbly and knees a mass of pins and needles from sleeping sitting up. I made it to my bathroom safely, navigating with my hands against the walls even though I could see. I didn’t trust my balance.

I passed by my mirror once more, but this time, stopped dead in my tracks to stare at my reflection.

On a sudden burst of self-insecurity, I shuddered and flushed in unusual embarrassment. My chest was ingenuously revealed through the shreds of my t-shirt, my pants hung low on my waist to expose just a little too much waist line, and my hair was out of my face for once, showing off wide, childlike eyes that were opposites of one another. Reaching timorously for the jagged edges of my ruined shirt, I did my best to vainly pull it together and cover my front, nipples slightly hardened from the chill in the air and thin welts from my finger nails crisscrossed on my torso. I shivered, not from the cold, but from what I had become just over night.

Resolution: Never to leave my Bago…well, at least until I had enough energy and encouragement to rebuild my Mask. My protection…I would torture myself back to normal, force the images of that undersized, awkward ten year-old out of my being once more, and move on with life.

~*~

[1] = Not THAT way you hentais.
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Dark Heart