Seasonal Feathers

Chapter 10

Singing filtered through the air, accompanied by the sound of laughter. A lone figure sat alone at the table, watching sunlight filter through the smokey air. He sighed, causing a violent swirling pattern to overthrow the quiet movement of dust.

A crash came from outside, accompanied by whooping and cheering, but Matthew was disinterested. Instead, he clutched his mug of mulled cider slightly tighter. A tiny hiccup made its way to his lips, and he sniffled, biting his lip. The angel managed to reign himself in once more though, taking a deep breath and a long draw of cider. The sip ended sooner than expected, though, and Matthew looked down into his cup to see its carved wooden bottom staring back up at him with a hollow gaze.

He sighed. Not again. Matthew hated going back outside to get more, with all the people around him who were getting harder to avoid. They kept noticing him. It was annoying. But, the homemade brew was his only comfort at the moment. It burned a warm spark going down his throat, and it was specially designed to be able to make the angels tipsy, even with the way they metabolized alcohol, or anything for that matter. The stuff may not make him drunk, per se, but it provided a bit of relief from mental clarity. It felt good. He needed that right now.

There was something else... another source of the fire. A hotter fire, sure, with more of the other, more literally intoxicating effect as well, but that only made it even more tempting. Matthew glanced toward the bag in the corner. It beckoned him, and he bit his lip again, this time in contemplation. He shouldn't.

But why not?

It was a symbol of disappointment, of something happy that had curled in on itself and died.

In the end, the decision was made for him. He heard footsteps nearing, and Feliciano's voice calling his name.

"He was over here; I'm kind of worried about him. He seemed sad or something."

Matthew snorted. 'Or something.'

He quickly heaved himself to his feet and stumbled unsteadily over to the corner, picking up the sack and making his way clumsily to the door just as Feliciano began to enter the room, followed by Arthur and Tino. But the wayward angel was already out the door and on his way to find a more permanent place of solitude.

He ended up in the woods, trekking along down the path. The precious contents of the bag thrown over his shoulder clinked against one another like bells. Finding himself at last far enough away, the angel plopped down against a tree trunk and pulled out a bottle. Opening it up, he took a small swig, followed by a much larger one.

Oh. Wow.

Matthew had never had something so strong before. He coughed, choking on the bright amber liquid. It scalded his insides and brought tears to his eyes. As soon as the young man could breathe again, he took another, more reasonably sized sip. And another. And another.

Stupid Gilbert. Stupid Hyldest. He couldn't believe it. Not only had Gilbert blown him off, but he'd given the bastard another chance!

Matthew thought that maybe it had been a misunderstanding, so he'd gone back to Gilbert's house the next day. He'd been fully prepared to give the albino an opportunity to explain himself, and all would be forgiven. When he'd arrived, however, the house was dark. A trip to his shop revealed it to be open, and Ludwig behind the counter.

Matthew had wandered inside, harness holding his wings tightly to his back and under his coat. It had only taken a casual request about the location of the usual shopkeeper for Ludwig to shrug, roll his eyes, and deliver the disheartening news. "I'm his brother; he left me stranded here to take care of his store while he went out of town with his friends."