Most of the residents of Kong had retired to their individual rooms. 2D was in the main television room staring blankly at the tv. His mind was far from calm. The only noise was from the laughter on the screen but somehow he couldn't hear it. He ran his fingers over the newly blooming bruise on his left forearm. Murdoc had hit him again. It was over something stupid, like always. He didn't quite remember what it was. Pulling his legs up to his chest he sighed. His cheek hurt. Closing his eyes he tried to will his medicine to kick in faster.

The clock glowed a dull green as it displayed the numbers 21:23. Cuban heels announced the presence of Murdoc as they thudded into the room. From his position on the couch 2D looked over at him. The bassist looked at him nonchalantly. The hit he had delivered that morning had grown into a large purplish bruise on the singer's cheek. For a split second something like regret tugged at the corner of his lips. 2D had his head on his knees. "We need to talk." Murdoc rolled his eyes and started to walk away. "Sit down." Giving a heavy sigh the older man took a seat in the chair across the room.

"I just.. I don't understand this. I don't understand us."

"You never understand anything, dullard."

"This is wot I'm talking about. You always call me names an' hit me, but.. But then there are times when we..you know?" A small smile had formed on the singer's face but as he saw Murdoc staring blankly at him it faded away. He turned his head to the right, staring out at the dark grounds that surrounded Kong Studio. "I don't get it. You.. I know 'm not just another fuck to you. I can tell.. 'Ere's the way you say fings then, the way you smile. It's not fake like it is wiff everyone else. An' then, an' then whenevea we're in public or takin' in an interview you get all ova me. Hitin' me and callin' me names. But I know you don't mean it.. I fink you don't mean it.." He closed his eyes. Maybe this was hopeless, he'd told him this so many times before. Just one last time. Maybe he'll hear you this time. One last time.

"Heh, I mean what I say when I say it. I hit ya when ya need to be hit. I'll call you wot you are."

"You don' even understand, do you?"

"Yer askin' if I'm having a problem understandin'?" He stood up and his voice was starting to raise. "No, yer the one who never understands anything. Yer so damn slow."

"Don't say 'at, you know 's not true. Why do you have ta go an' say things like that?" His voice was slowly lowering into a whisper.

"Listen here, faceache. You mean nothin' ta me. Nothin' more than anyone else. You're here to be a good singer and a good shag when we both need something new. Alright? Nothin' more."

"That's a lie and you know it." He looked up at the bassist. "How come you never listen ta me? You know I'm not lyin'. This isn't nothing."

"Hah! You would say that. You and your little world of happy endings. You know wot, Stu? This will never be a happy ending. We all live this shit life and ride the wave of 'happy' when it comes. Then we all get old and die. That's wot happens. No fucking fairy tales."

"But you know I love you." It was barely heard. More of a ghost of a thought than a sound. Yet it reached Murdoc loud and clear.His hand curled into a fists and connected it to 2D's face.

"I told you not to say that!" The boy didn't move. He stayed in his current position and said nothing. He sat still while Murdoc slurred curse words then walked out of the room.

The carpark door opened and the bassist tore out into the night, driving as fast as he could. He sped down the deserted highway road and past the city. There was no coherent destination, he just wanted to be out of that situation. Normally it wouldn't bother him; really, it wouldn't. There was just something so weird, so wrong about the whole thing. Yes, Stuart loved him. He knew that. He'd heard him say it many times, yet he could never say it back. Never. The wheels drove off the asphalt and onto the dirt road that lead to God knows where.

2D got up and walked lifelessly to his room. He rummaged around in his drawers until he found what he was looking for, his most potent painkillers. Taking the bottle he grabbed a cup of water on his bed stand. One by one he downed the medicine. He lost count somewhere around twenty. Eventually he felt sick to his stomach. The slickness the pills made going down his throat creeped him out.

The truth is you scare me. Scare me shitless. You get way to deep. You've gotten too close. No one has been this close. It's not good. You could so easily destroy me from the inside out if I didn't keep you away like I do. These insults and punches are to keep me safe. To keep others away, even if it's for the worst. There's something wrong here. There's something terribly wrong and you know it, Mudsie.

Slipping into his cool sheets 2D tried to relax. Laying down hurt. Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything was just so very painful. When had it gotten like this bad? He'd told himself to keep a watch on it. He'd told himself to stay calm and level headed. Pills. Slow the brain and kill the pain. Pills. But pills aren't enough to sooth this pain. Nothing is.

Night air rushed through Murdoc's hair as he drove near the shore. He'd been driving a long time now. It was nearly 2 am and he started to slow to a stop. He had no idea where he was. It was completely dark, save for his headlights and the stars. Once the car rolled to a halt he leaned back in his seat.

This wasn't working. Everything was still so painful even though the pills had taken full effect. If anything it just dulled his thoughts; made everything run together into a messy dark gray colour. He was shaking, when had that started? Slowly he reached over into his nightstand drawer.

Fuck. Closing his eyes he sighed through his nose. He knew that 2D had been acting odd for a while now. Most wouldn't notice it, but then again most didn't know Stuart as well as he did. It was very subtle at first. But over the years it had grown. And he had noticed. And he had done nothing. He was too tired, too busy, too wrapped up in his own demons to help the person he knew mattered most. His fist hit the steering wheel. Goddamn it.

Long fingers gently ran over the cool metal. He pulled his hand gun out and held it above himself. Had the gun always been that shiny? It seemed almost.. comforting.

He was tired, so very tired. He didn't want to deal with himself, how could he ever deal with others? They should know just to give up and let him be who he was. But Stu never seemed to understand that. He just wanted to get too deep.

Darkened eyes ran over the small object he was holding. Just like he'd always pictured it... He gave it another stroke with his thumb then brought it down to his chest.

Quiet. It was so bloody quiet. He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to be awake all night long, to be back home with 2D. To fix things. But he didn't know how, and in the back of his head he knew something was different with this little tiff.

Closing his eyes he brought the gun up to his lips. Kissing death. His mind flashed brief images of all the nights he had shared with Murdoc. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

He leaned his head against the wheel and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do. It was too much for him to deal with. He knew tonight was the last night.

Slowly he opened his mouth and pushed the gun in. Metal. Cold metal.

This was the last night and all he could do was run away. He always ran away.

Giving a soft sigh he pulled the trigger.

He would have stayed up all night.

Crimson blood splashed against the wall as Stuart Tusspot was forever silenced.

He would have said something.

A small smile still graced his lips.

He would have told him that he loved him.

His last thought was of them.

He would have saved his life. He just couldn't grasp how.