𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝘼𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛, 𝘽𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙚!

TEN - Thoughts Linger

FEBRUARY, 1975

David had growing issues.

He couldn't remember things. He couldn't remember what had happened the day before, or the day before that, at times he had trouble remembering things from only hours ago. He couldn't remember anything.

He found himself irritable lately. Like anything bothered him, he'd yell at Corinne if she got on his nerves. He couldn't remember ever having yelled at Corinne, or even becoming remotely close to doing so. She told him he needed to stop doing the drugs he was near constantly on.

"You need to put down the drugs, David! That's all I'm saying!"

"YOU SHOULDN'T TELL ME HOW TO LIVE MY GODDAMN LIFE! ALRIGHT? NEXT TIME THIS SHIT HAPPENS, YOU'RE OUT THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

Corinne was taken aback, paused, then hastily exited the room. She was scared.

He knew she was probably right, but he didn't want to admit such a thing.

That was one thing he only wished he could forget.

He even noticed that some parts of his team began to avoid him, just so they wouldn't have to end up in an intense argument, or fired. They'd began picking names out of a hat to send someone over to wake up him the mornings he had something scheduled, or simply fish him out of his room. He slept less and less every week, it was a slow but noticeable process.

The worst instance was when they sent Carlos over one morning, and he walked in on David having a panic attack. David was practically incoherent, the rest of them narrowed it down to a bad dream, but deep down they all knew it wasn't a bad dream.

But tonight, he decided he'd take a walk to the bar to get his mind off things. It was cold, but he decided he wouldn't bring a jacket. Maybe if he was thinking about how cold it was, he wouldn't be able to think about everything else.

He kept his head down so no one would ask for his autograph as he passed by, as if his red hair wouldn't likely give it away. Well, he didn't have the mullet anymore, so maybe he had a chance at getting by.

As soon as he stepped into the bar, he calmed down. A new feeling washed over him; relief, as he went to the bar and sat down. He ordered his drink, then rested his hands in his head. He couldn't even imagine how miserable he looked. He slid his hands down his face, they were very cold, he noticed his cheekbones had more definition than he was used to. Had he lost weight?

As soon as his drink arrived, he paid no mind to his previous thoughts, instead downing the glass in an instant. This process would repeat about five times over the span of thirty minutes, yet he still wasn't drunk.

That's when he caught sight of Marionette.

She was just entering the bar, cigarette hanging outside her mouth until she got to the bar and put it out in the ashtray.  He barely noticed her until he felt her reach over and tap his shoulder.

"David?"

He turned his head to face the blonde, her eyebrows furrowing and head tilted to the side. His eyes narrowed, before he was able to say anything she continued.

"What are you doing here? It's so late!" She asked, sitting down on the stool next to him. After her night out catching him in the midst of a drug deal, she didn't like the idea of him going out so late at night.

"I could ask you the same thing." He said, not wanting to properly answer her question.

"I'm always out at night, it's the only time I can get stuff done around here."

"Oh, like going to a bar by yourself in the middle of the night?" He quipped. He'd come to the bar not wanting to speak to anyone, but for some reason, Mari had this certain quality to her that was always easy to be around. She was quiet, her tone of voice, it made her nice to talk to.

"Actually, I'm here to meet someone."

"Oh, I see," he said, "Who might that be?"

"I can't tell you." She remarked, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on her face, "You'd burst with excitement and steal my date."

"Your date?"

"Yes, a playdate, we're like children."

He laughed, "I see," he smiled, "But you can't leave me hanging! You must tell me who this person is."

"Oh, it's no one, really. Mick Jagger's stopping by for a bit so we can sort out the last bits of something we were working on."

"At midnight?"

"Yes, well, we couldn't sleep."

David smiled, nodding. He watched her order her drink, then turn back to him.

"You never did tell me what you're doing out so late." She acknowledged, curiosity still getting to her.

His smile slowly faded as he looked back down at his drink, it was nearly empty.

"Just to get my mind off things. A lot going on lately."

She nodded, "I see." she said, thinking for a moment before continuing, "Would you like to come to the studio with Mick and I when he gets back?"

David looked back up at the woman, but took a moment to consider his options. Either go home, try to sleep, not sleep, then stay up all night, or go to the studio with Mari and Mick and then not sleep.

He chose the latter.

***