Mistakes Like This (2D x Murdoc)

***

Stuart's heart beat refused to calm down as he kept his void-like eyes trained on Murdoc. Although he had claimed his feeling to be that of friendship for the longest time, the more he admired the bassist, the further off it seemed.

But that didn't matter right now.

What did matter was the fact that he still hadn't answered Murdoc's question.

It wasn't like the bassist was pressuring him to do so either. He sat calmly in his chair, staring in at the ground as if in deep thought.

After another silent, slightly uncomfortable minute ticked by, Stuart finally had his answer. It was risky. It was beyond ignorant. But it was an answer.

"I-I'll stay, Muds."

2D couldn't help but stare as a small smile formed on the Satanist's lips. It quickly dissipated soon after, but the image was already burned into the bluenette's mind. Despite all his years of knowing Murdoc, he'd never seen that before.

Sure, he laughed and smiled at everyone's misfortune with the exception of his own, when there was a funny bit on the telly, or when a devious plan came to mind; but this, THIS was a genuine smile. 

The smile wasn't plagued with deviance or formed of hatred, it was meant for him. Created because of him. And Stuart Pot had never felt more honored than he did in the moment.

His heart sped up again.

2D ignored it, or at least tried his best to as he watched Murdoc get up from the chair and slowly begin sauntering back to where his bed was.

The bluenette followed behind absentmindedly, trying his hardest to just calm down. He didn't know why he was all riled up in the first place. Nothing happened. This didn't mean anything...

Did it?

Murdoc wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow (hopefully). So, no. It didn't mean anything. It wouldn't mean anything. But why was he upset about that? If anything, he should be afraid of what was about to happen.

But he wasn't.

In fact... he was anxious.

Not in the scared, timid way he should be though. It was pure excitement.

2D flinched at his own thoughts. The last time he could vividly recall feeling like this... was with... Paula.

He shuttered as the thought quickly entered and exited his mind. Stuart wanted to throw up in his mouth. He wanted to crawl into a hole and keel over. He wanted someone to slap him over and over until he had finally had enough then slap him some more.

What the hell was he thinking?! It must've been the pills. It had to have been. There was no way in a million years Stuart would ever have those kinds of feelings for the sick bastard who beat him up time after time after time. The thought was simply incomprehensible. Impossible even.

However, his thoughts quickly dispersed as Murdoc stopped in front of him. Being the aloof dullard he naturally was, he bumped into the Satanist. An apology was at the tip of his tongue as he used his arms to block his face and forced his eyes shut, the given response he had for whenever he irritated the bassist. 

But no fist ever came. Not even a kick.

2D slowly opened his eyes, fear and anxiety building up in his system at a rapid pace. This surely had to have been strike two. It was a simple mistake, sure. But the normal, sober Murdoc would've beat him to hell and back for it. So why wasn't he?

Even drunk Murdoc still had a little spite in him. This was too dangerous. He needed to draw a line somewhere.

"M-Muds... On second thought, I migh' jus' go back ta my room tonigh'." Stuart said, panic still racing through his system.

Murdoc gave him a drunken stare, eyes still glassy and unfocused. Maybe just a little sad even.

"I'm...*hic*... not mad. You can stay."

2D sighed and crossed his arms across his chest, thinking of possible responses. All he knew was that he wasn't staying.

"Y-You're really drunk, Muds. I s-shouldn't be 'ere."

Disappointment grew in the eyes of his friend causing an unhealthy amount of guilt to grow in the pit of 2D's stomach. But he knew he must persevere. He didn't have a choice in this matter- not if he wanted to keep his life.

"I-I'll see ya tomorra', Muds. 'Ave a good nigh'."

The azure haired singer did a quick pivot on his feet, no longer wanting to look into the dispirited, mismatched eyes of his best mate. However, he was caught off guard as he felt a familiar warm touch around his wrist, keeping him from escaping any further.

His head twirled around to catch a glimpse of the already known culprit. When he was met with those irresistible puppy dog eyes once more, he quickly looked away.

"Please...*hic*... stay."

The words sat like ice cold bricks in the musty air that surrounded them. Murdoc's voice was small and desperate, practically begging for 2D's presence at this point. But Stuart knew it was all just drunk rambling. He did believe that somewhere within Murdoc's empty, black heart, he cared for the band; and not for their skills alone, but the actual people behind them too. And that somewhere, perhaps he didn't hate Stuart as much as he let on, but this went beyond that.

This wasn't just a simple, 'hang out with me because I'm drunk and reckless', kind of suggestion.

This was a, 'stay with me because I'm lonely and broken', suggestion.

At this point in time, he really didn't have an option.

If he left now, he'd have to live with the guilt and shame with knowing he'd left his best mate alone when he was depressed, lonely, and drunk. And that was something he just wasn't willing to do. No matter how much of a jerk he was, no one deserved that. Not even Murdoc.

"I'll stay."

After that, he finally brought himself to look back at the Satanist in front of him. Another small hint of a smile graced his lips as he looked the bluenette dead in the eye.

"Thanks." 

His reply was slightly slurred but 2D was just glad he wasn't making those goddamned puppy eyes anymore. There were many things he could worm himself out of, but puppy dog eyes weren't one.

Not long after, Murdoc turned around and crawled into his bed, patting the vacant spot beside him.

2D looked on in horror at the suggestion. In no alternate universe would this have been a good idea -let alone his. If he awoke and wasn't in a bloody heap of limbs six feet under the ground, he'd be amazed.

But he kept those comments to himself as he hesitantly climbed into the bed with Murdoc.  There was less than a foot between the two, and if 2D wasn't feeling drowsy because of the sleeping pills, he would've been an anxious disaster.

As the two slowly nodded off, Stuart couldn't help but think about what happened. What happened to the angry, strong, independent Murdoc that caused him to drink himself into... this? What could've possibly been that bad? But the one thing he knew for certain, the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he was so dead in the morning.