Death's Muse

Chapter Eight;

Later that evening, Mikey was sitting on Armando's sofa, a snoring head laid across his lap, mouth open and drool leaking onto his jeans. The reflection from the TV a few feet away reflected off of the two, a monotonic buzz irradiating like some sort of demon. The TV was playing only a staticy screen, white noise the only sound in the entire room. They had lost signal over an hour ago due to the increasingly heavy snow out of the window. Armando had been asleep for nearly two and half hours, and Mikey, knowing how tired the man must be, didn't want to disturb him by rising and switching off the TV.

He wasn't sure why he had been enduring the white noise, or the fact that Armando would occasionally moan in his sleep, but he had. The static was in the slightest bit unnerving and unsettling as it would occasionally flicker in and out of a completely black screen and silence, but Mikey had stifled that, staring at the screen through his thick glasses like it held answers, occasionally running a hand through his boyfriend's long, dark hair.

Mikey had assumed Armando had been drained of energy as a result of the antibiotic and his spider bite. The man has simply stumbled in, drank a bottle of orange juice, and then fell onto the couch, passing out after fighting sleep for several hours, on Mikey's leg, pinning Mikey to the couch until well after midnight.

Mikey's eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall to find that it was nearly two AM. He had wasted an entire night sitting on this couch like an idiot. He wondered why Aniese wasn't home. It wasn't like her to be super late or spend an extended amount of time out of the house. She hated crowds and people in general. Mikey bit his lip. He had wanted to see her, but it was getting so late, and he felt very tired.

Sighing softly, Mikey picked up Armando's head. The man didn't even stir in the slightest. He was dead asleep. Mikey could feel his heart slow down. Had Armando woken, he knew he would have been yelled at for attempting to leave. Still, Mikey felt bad as he watched the man shiver on the couch, a damp line of sweat on his forehead. Mikey reached towards the end of the couch, picking up a black pillow, sticking it under Armando's greasy head and laying a blanket over him.

"Perhaps he won't be so mad now," Mikey whispered to himself. He wondered at what point in his life he had dissolved to talking to himself. The television was still flicking between the ever present white noise or stillness entirely. Mikey felt annoyed by how ominous it was, so he turned, picking the remote from where it had fallen to the floor and clicked it off, ending the buzzing entirely.

And it was only dark.

In the silence, Mikey could make out the noise of somebody bumbling towards the front door rather loudly. Squinting in the darkness, Mikey grabbed his coat, sliding it on and walking down the hallway, feeling his way along the wall when there was the click of a key in the lock and the door opened. The smell of hard vodka immediately attacked him, and Mikey pressed a hand over his noise.

In the dim light from the hallway, Mikey could see the shape of Aniese leaning against the door. Just barely, Mikey could also see the light reflecting tear stains on her face. It wasn't like Aniese to drink. Mikey had only seen her drunk when Armando had his dark moments and hurt himself, but never other than then and especially not in front of her beloved brother or her best friend.

"Aniese?" Mikey questioned, squinting towards the woman at the door.

"Guess who's drunk?!" The voice said in a slurred and overly excited tone. Had Mikey not known Aniese's voice so well, he would have never guessed it was his friend. Mikey gulped nervously.

"Oh," He replied quietly, edging towards the door, desperately trying to pass the woman, but she blocked the path entirely. "E-Excuse me," He babbled nervously, eyes on the floor.