Angel With the Scabbed Wings

Brian woke up to a ray of sunlight that peeked through a gap in the curtains and landed on his face. He groaned, feeling a light burning sensation from his eyes and he cursed himself for not having drawn the curtains properly, yet he knew it was already midday and he was wide awake. He rubbed his eyes gently, trying to drive the sleepiness away and attempted to remember exactly what he had planned for the day. The first thing that hit him was the concert and the preparations that had to be done, and as always, the responsibility fell on him. He didn’t mind it much; the only difficult part was to get the band together for practice and to actually come to a solution about the stage show.

With yet another groan, Brian managed to pull himself out of bed. A sharp pain went through his head as he got up and it didn’t take long until yesterday’s consumption of alcohol decided to leave his body together with whatever he had eaten. Sitting face to face with his toilet, he made a decision of his own. There would be no more alcohol until after the concert; at least he would keep himself at a bare minimum. “Screw me,” he whispered, still leaning over the toilet bowl.

It was then Twiggy came running down the block wearing nothing but a pair of grandma’s panties and a ribbon in his hair. Something awful had happened the other night, something that would make Brian angrier than a Spanish bull and Twiggy was dreaded to tell. But it just couldn’t’ wait, and therefore he was out jogging half naked and with makeup from yesterday smeared all over his face.

“Mazz, Mazz, Mazz!” Twiggy shouted before he had even reached the doorknob. He realized that his throat had gone sore during night and it hurt to talk, still these news couldn’t wait and Twiggy strode into the apartment, still shouting as loud as his cracked voice let him. “What!” he heard Brian ask from the bathroom. “I’m kind of ill today.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Twiggy murmured to himself and giggled a little at his friend’s stupid drinking habits, even though his own were even worse. “You drank way too much yesterday!” The vocalist groaned back, obviously not in the mood for half hearted lessons about alcohol, especially not when coming from the worst alcoholic in the band. “What’s the big deal anyway?”

“Oh, right!” Twiggy said and then walked into the bathroom where Brian sat, head bent over the toilet and with a look of despair on his face. “Didn’t really know you could possibly get any paler,” Twiggy then continued, totally missing out on the point. Then, a sound of gagging again and the smell of returned stomach contents, better known as puke made Twiggy twitch. “Besides, these news could make you go even paler… and I don’t need you vanishing right before a concert!” Brian sighed. “Was that all you wanted to say?”

Twiggy then froze. “Actually, it’s okay if you vanish after all, the show is cancelled anyway, I just remembered…”

The bassist sat down next to his dear friend and pulled his hair back. A few strands of hair had already been soaked in the nasty stomach fluids and clung onto his face and neck. Twiggy realized that Brian could be ill from more than just heavy drinking and whatever more had happened that night. He put his hand on Brian’s forehead and felt the pale skin burn underneath his palm. “Man, you’re burning up!” he exclaimed. “I think you’re actually sick.”

“Twiggs… What the fuck happened to my show?” Brian demanded. “I worked so hard for that show!” Twiggy let out a sigh of despair, shaking his head at Brian for some reason. “Trent said you hadn’t filled out the papers right.” His words silenced the confused front man and made him collapse back over the toilet bowl with a somewhat haunted look on his face. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “All I did was to write all of our fucking names, and even if I misspelled something, how could that cancel our show!”

Twiggy didn’t answer to it. He didn’t know what to answer to the other man’s despair and decided to stay still not to make the situation take a turn for the worse. Besides, he was starting to freeze standing there in his grandma’s panties and felt like watching TV under warm blankets. “Mazz,” the younger one whispered and yanked Brian’s arm carefully. “You can’t just sit here, getting cold.” Brian looked at him with sorrow in his eyes and reluctantly let Twiggy take him back to his bed. He then was nursed with all the care Twiggy was capable of giving, and his heart was capable of much when it came to Brian.

“You remind me of my mom right now,” Brian mumbled as a wet cloth was placed on his forehead. It made Twiggy smile wholeheartedly. “I remind you of Barb?” he asked absently and continued to care for his best friend.