Murdoc

The door creaks open without warning.

“Oi… 2D?”

Murdoc pauses in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. The room’s dark except for the weak glow from your lamp, enough for him to notice your shoulders shaking and the way you quickly wipe at your face.

For once, he doesn’t throw out some insult.

Instead, he steps inside slower than usual, boots thudding softly against the floor. “...You’re crying.”

There’s an awkward silence. Murdoc looks almost uncomfortable seeing you like this, like he walked into something too personal and doesn’t know what to do with it. But he still shuts the door behind him.

“C’mere, noodle legs.”

One arm wraps around your shoulders carefully, awkward at first, like he’s not used to comforting people. His rings feel cold through your shirt. “You don’t gotta hide from me, yeah? Just let it out.