(2D’s POV)
He tried to hit me again. Well, tried isn't the word. He wanted to, but couldn't…
He wanted me to stop talking, to stop trying to figure him out, but we both knew what things needed to be said.
The heater was nice. The water down here is still shit, but I can always hot-box the room and add the heater.
Makes things a little better.
He's been avoiding me though. He's been keeping all the doors unlocked, so I can move around and wonder, but whenever I find him, we don't look at each other for very long.
We don't talk anymore.
Not like we talked much anyways, but… it was still nice. Those little moments we had.
Even if some of them weren't very… pleasant.
I could hear him playing guitar down the hall. He was in his room, avoiding me. He knew I was in the living room. Right on the couch. Just a few meters away from his door.
This is probably the closest he's let me get to him this week.
I don't know if it's this new found appreciation, or attraction… or most likely stockholm syndrome, but I don't like him being alone when he's like this. I don't like being left alone here either.
Without someone to talk to, this place felt like a solitary confinement cell. Just… bigger.
I still had the ukulele with me when I had left it in the living room. I picked it up, listening to the chords Mudz had been playing. And then I played them back.
And for a second he had stopped the toon altogether.
And then it started again, slower this time.
And I played it back again, waiting for him to continue. So he played the guitar, while I played the bass chords underneath it on a little uke. And I didn't feel so alone anymore. I still wasn't looking at him. But we had started a conversation in a way.
With no words or means to them, but there was a back and forth that had a sound holding it all together. And that was close enough for me.
(Murdoc's POV)
The embodiment of perfection was sitting not twenty feet away from me, with nothing but a door between us.
And I was too much of a coward to face him.
(2D’s POV)
I've wondered what it'd be like to fuck a bloke. Would it be any different than fucking a bird?
Murdoc didn't seem to think so. Then again, he porked just about anything that moved.
Being stuck on an island like this… alone. Now I remember why we started what we had in the beginning. Before it had turned into the mess that it is now…
But it’s been months, or at least it feels like it…
And he’s right there…
I wonder if he’d ever let me fuck him. It was never that way, I mean, we talked about it when we started, but it never… happened. More or less just, frottage, blowing, handies…
We acted like a pair of horny teens that got left alone together.
And right now I’m desperate. Even for just a touch. For some kind of affection that seems mutual. It's not healthy, bloody hell, I'm not healthy. Even to have these thoughts of want and need in a situation like this. None of it was normal.
Fuck it.
The door barely made a sound when I pushed it, but it's creak was defining compared to the silence.
“Hey, Mudz…”
(Noodles POV)
Nothing. He gave me fucking NOTHING! How am I supposed to track him down if all I have is an almost impossible radio signal to follow!
I had stowed away on some ship that was headed who knows where, all because of a vague 'Point Nemo’ broadcast signal coming from the direction it was headed.
Now a day's the radio tune in was rare, and I could only try to pinpoint the signals location when it was active. If I don't get another sign soon, I'm gonna wind up in the middle of the ocean searching for someone that might as well be dead.
I hope Toochie’s okay.
I haven't heard his voice on the station since the month he was abducted. And even then, he had said being there made him 'want to die.’
It's been just over two years since the El Mañana incident. The last broadcast was a few months after February, so the island had to be somewhere where the cold or snow couldn't interfere with the transmission. I'm thinking middle of the ocean… probably close to the equator. Maybe.
I'm a gunman and a guitarist, I don't know maps! The only way I found the band in the first place was by tracking their IP address, but there's nothing for me to track here!
I wonder if the people hunting us could track him this way too? That’s probably why he didn’t broadcast that often anymore. I just hope this ship I’m on is faster than the pirates. And I wished this guy would stop knocking on my fucking door!
“Ma’am!” he called again, through the wood. “You can’t keep playing instruments. I’ve told you for the hundredth time, we’re getting noise complaints. People are trying to sleep!”
God I hate this boat.
(2D’s POV)
His bandaged wounds had healed nicely. The burning was still visible, but it was healed over enough to know it wouldn’t bleed.
Probably.
He almost seemed to panic when he saw the door open.
“Hey, Mudz…” He didn’t answer me. Just stared wide eyed at me, wondering why the hell I was dumb enough to walk back into this. Wondering why I wasn’t running as fast as I could in the other direction, trying to find a way off this miserable chunk. But I stayed, and he was just as surprised as I was.
And I started something I shouldn’t have once again. Just like when this mess began.