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it had taken pickles approximately 3.5 days to come down off of his perpetual-high and make his way back to mordhaus. the only reason as to the stop to his bender was just due to a lack of drugs. pickles had gained no real clarity or acceptance of his fate from the endeavor that had caused him to quit and come back.
upon arrival, none of his band members really cared to check in on him past a greeting or a quick "oh your back", choosing instead to not let their feelings get in the way of their brutality. it had been that way ever since they had gotten their health tests back and it was revealed that pickles was terminally ill and there was apparently nothing they could do about it. with the exception of the initial questions, nobody really had the courage to fully face the prospect of one of their bandmates dying. hell, pickles knew he sure as hell wasnt about to face it himself- what do you think all the drugs were for?
so now pickles just continued to stumble through the empty halls of mordhaus, back to his room. back to where he had more alcohol and pills stashed so he could blackout again and forget that he was dying.
it was an odd feeling, getting high at a time like this. it was like a part of him had already accepted his death, but another part was still struggling to stay above the water- to distract him in any way possible so he could pretend like things were continuing as normal. like perpetual spiritual procrastination or some gay shit like that. whatever. its not like any of this stuff mattered in the long run- or more the short run he guessed. again, whatever. he nust needed to get high so he could pretend ti be alive.
pickles rolled his straw a bit tighter and got ready to ignore life even harder.
---
'it has to be nearly 4:30 who the fuck is this' was murderface's first thought as the door to his room swung open. a grainy figure stood at the entrance, backlit by the flickering torches lining the hallway.
"dood cnnai-"
oh. it was pickles.
the short man all but sloshed into the room, obviously high or intoxicated or both.
"can i-" pickles started again, "i just.. theyre all fuckin'... is jus- "
pickles waved a hand above his head like he was swatting away flies or perhaps a bad though, causing his walking to go unsteady.
"-jus ..fuckin be wit someone- i just wanna fuckin be with someone."
"what." murderface asked blandly
"issjt!" pickles threw his hands up in the best feat of drunken exasperation he could muster at murderfaces deadpan response.
"you dont fuckin get it dood, i jus-" pickles voice was starting to get tighter. "-y'know im fuckin', fuckin', ...." he trailed off, not wanting to finish his thought lest the reality of his situation becomes real if he speaks it.
"you- you assholes cant be fuckin- fuckin- dont wanna fuckin care at all!"
murderface propped himself up from the bed, still groggy from sleep and thoroughly confused by pickles intoxicated breakdown and acusations.
"picklesch. what are you talking about."
from the bed, murderface could see pickles demeanor change and knew that his confusion had been taken the wrong way. like a dog that starts hunkering in on itself before springing to bite, pickles steadied and grew quiet before the inevitable explosion.
"just go fuck yourself william."
any other time murderface would have shrugged it off, but pickles voice was dripping with so much contempt that his words made murderface feel like he had just been branded by dry ice. before murderface could make his groggy brain form some sort of sentence, pickles had turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
----
pickles should have known not to do anything. he should have known not to go to murderface of all people. he shouldnt have tried to get any solace from his dickhead bandmates. he should have just sat in the living room riding out his paranoia high.
the baggie and straw from earlier sat on the (duncan hills) coffee table where he left it. pickles swayed over to the adjacent couch and flopped onto it, cursing himself for being so stupid with all of this. why the hell did he have to face all this head on. why the hell did he have to deal with this alone. why the hell did it have to be him.
curling into himself, pickles wrapped his arms around his chest and faced the back of the couch in the universal position of someone who's Going Through It. he just wished someone cared. he wished they could all get their heads out of their asses for two seconds to realize what he was going through. he knew that he shouldnt expect them to- none of them had made any attempts to care about each other before this, himself included, why should they start now for him? he sniffed and pressed himself further into the back of the couch. maybe it was just the fact that the drugs were wearing off but he was beginning to think maybe he overreacted a little bit. he kinda did just barge into murderfaces room at 5 in the morning drunk off his ass expecting the bassist to make everything better.
gah, why did he even do that? pickles unfurled himself just enough to press his palms into his eyes. it was stupid. he was being stupid. expecting someone to make him feel better about dying. expecting murderface to.
he still didnt know what drew him to murderfaces room of all people. maybe it had to do with the others- he wouldnt want nathan or skwisgaar to see him like this. he respected them too much for them to see him like this. toki was out of the picture- he knew that if he subjected toki to this it would only freak the poor man out. he didnt even KNOW where he could find offdensen at this hour. so that left murderface. stupid douchebag murderface where their only contact seemed to be fucking with or arguing with each other. why him of all people.
the tv clicked on.
pickles took his head out of his hands to see murderface leaning over the back of the couch, still in his sleepwear, tv remote in hand, with his ever present resting scowl. murderface didnt say anything, just walked around the side of the couch and plopped down on the side opposite of pickles. pickles thought about saying something. some scathing remark. something angry. but he bit his tongue just enough to lay there, half curled and frowning at murderface like he was trying to psychically twist his head off.
he didnt even know why he was really angry. maybe it was because his pitty party had been interrupted. maybe he was still mad that murderface hadn't understood his garbled needs in the bedroom. maybe the man just made for an easy target for pickles to get mad at and forget his worries.
pickles huffed and flipped back into the back of the couch. refusing to stare at murderface or whatever was on the tv.
the two sat in silence, the flickering lights from the tv bouncing off them in the dark room. occasionally, murderface would flip through the channels, obviously not fully entertained by whatever early morning shows and bland infomercials were on. the minutes stretched on in silence until pickles finally sighed, flipped over, and sat up. hunching over, he focused on the tv for a few seconds before bringing his hands to his face and dragging them down his eyebags. he was tired. he didnt know what they were doing here. he didnt know why murderface decided to get out of bed for this. the only thing he really had going for him was that all of this had managed to numb his racing mind.
pickles sighed another pitiful sigh and sunk back into the couch. murderface cast a slow glance at the disheveled man but just as easily went back to blandly staring at the tv, mindlessly thumbing through the commercials. pickles grabbed the brutal throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, getting comfortable.
as the night stretched on, murderface grew obviously sleepier, slowly reclining into the couch and letting his eyes flutter down more and more as the time passed. pickles had resituated himself so that he was propped up against the couches arm, facing murderface. he watched, brow knitted but too tired to actually be angry, as the bassist drifted in and out of sleep, each time waking up with a start and repositioning himself in some vain attempt to stay awake longer. pickles was, unfortunately, starting to understand what murderface was doing here. moral support. it made pickles feel kind of bad about snapping earlier.
the minutes stretched on until finally pickles signed, rubbed his eyes again, and got up.
---
murderface woke to pickles sitting down next to him. the smaller man tucked his knees to his chest, wrapped the blanket around himself, then slowly leaned against williams shoulder.
"you mind?" pickles asked quietly
any other time the gaydar warning bells would have immediately gone off in murderfaces head and he would have pushed pickles away, but this felt different.
"no, go ahead." murderface mumbled
pickles did a small shimmy to get comfortable before letting his head rest on the bigger mans shoulder. they both gazed wordlessly at the flashing colors on the tv. at some point murderface must have turned the volume down because it was definitely softer than when he first arrived. that was ok though, its not like either of them really cared what the early morning news had to say. surprisingly, murderface felt much more awake with pickles on him.
eventually, the man at murderfaces shoulder scrunched his brows together, repositioned, and just pressed his forehead into murderfaces shoulder, shaking his head as he did so.
"dood.."
pickles didnt get very far before he trailed off again. he took his head off of murderfaces shoulder only to harmlessly thunk it back against it a few more times like he was absentmindedly hitting his head against a wall. he exhaled once more and pulled away from murderfaces shoulder.
"dood, this is gunna sound gay as hell but-"
he cut himself off again, face scrunched into something that could have been akin to hating himself for even starting to talk.
"its just. i just-" he sighed an exasperated sigh
"the last few days have been- theyve been like, rough, y'know? with- with everything. and i just-"
his voice was starting to sound tight again
"i just- i know youre the last person to ask this of but." he took a breath and contemplated if he should say his next words,
"can i just get like a hug or some gay shit like that so i can know you guys give a shit? ok?"
there was a couple of beats between them were murderface just stared and pickles silently cursed himself for even asking. then murderface reached out and pulled the drummer to his chest.
"juscht dont make it too gay" murderface added, though pickles could tell it was more humor than actual stipulation.
pickles let out a relieved sigh and wrapped his arms over the bigger mans shoulders. murderface repositioned so they were in more comfortable position, and continued to hold pickles. letting himself relax, the smaller man let his head rest on murderfaces collarbone and just hung there as murderfaces arms slowly glided up and down his back. he didnt know why, but with murderfaces arms tight around him he finally felt like he could breathe.
for a while they just hung on each other, pickles quietly contemplating both the situation and his morality. it felt.. easier to do when someone was holding you. eventually, murderface started shifting and pickles suspected he may be getting tired of either the position or just.. the whole shebang.
"can i-" pickles started almost timidly "would you be ok if we.. stay like this..? its-its fine if naht."
murderface didnt say anything, obviously weighing his options. in a few seconds, he pulled away from pickles and repositioned so that he was propped up with the couch arm at his back. looking away sheepishly embarrassed, he patted his chest, signaling pickles to lay down on him.
with a quick glance over positioning, pickles decided on laying half on william and half shoved into the crack between him and the couch back. he stretched an arm over murderfaces chest, snuggling in and getting comfortable. after some repositioning, pickles was relocated to the crook of murderfaces arm as murderface draped it over pickles torso. he relaxed into murderfaces chest and within a few minutes murderface had a hand fumbling behind his head for the remote. even sooner the tv was off, leaving them to relax in the quickly waning darkness.
pickles smiled contently into williams shoulder. the night had ended better than any of his past three intoxicated nights, and sure, this definitely wasn't going to magically make him feel better about dying, but this small moment made life feel a little more worth living.
---
that afternoon the two of them woke to a 'very important' meeting regarding the bands health tests. pickles was elated to find that his worries had been unneeded.