[color=#e0e0e0][center][hr][hr][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLmE4ZjBkZC5SWEp5YjJ3Z1NHOTNaUSwsLjA,/komikaze.regular.png[/img][hr][hr][sup][b][color=f0a8bb]Location:[/color][/b] Home
[b][color=f0a8bb]Interactions:[/color][/b] His Sister; Mother (through the phone)[/sup]

[img]http://i1.wp.com/www.4ye.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/tumblr_m78own5Do21r1njuqo2_500.gif[/img]

[sub][i]“I have to remind myself to [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Xf-Lesrkuc][color=#a8f0dd]breathe[/color][/url] -- almost to [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR-qQcNT_fY][color=#a8f0dd]remind my heart to beat[/color][/url]!”[/i][/sub]

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[i]Warmth wrapped him in the dust specked glow of the morning sun. The stubble of his chin rubbed against a pale chest, shaking with the rumble of morning wakeness. A hefty arm tightened its grip around his ribs, poking the dips between them to rouse the bubbling laughter - his wheezing breathes trailed into a groan, hand coming down to swat away. A few more minutes. Another probing finger found their way along his jaw, rubbing the stubble, then gliding through dark, heavy waves of hair. Lightness lifted his chest and Errol smiled, burying his cheek into the warmth beneath him.

"We have eternity to sleep," the man beneath and above him all at once enveloped him in his arms and breathed, a deep rumbling from his chest that vibrated against each word. "There's only so much time to live."

"[color=#a8f0dd]This is what I get for dating a hipster with a Ph.D in liberal arts,[/color]" Errol groaned, and buried his face into the man's neck to hide the fondness in his smile.

A chuckle erupted, heavy in Errol's ears, and surrounding him in light. "Errol," he said, quiet with amusement lifting his tone.

"Errol," he repeated again, his tone dulling and distance, "Errol?"

"[color=#a8f0dd]Wha...?[/color]" Errol griped the sheets beneath him, a sudden shift in temperature driving a cold shiver down his spine - digging in like hooks ripping across his flesh. He convulsed, cried out in a deafened whimper. "[color=#a8f0dd]W-why?[/color]" he questioned, asked the room around him and the shivering in his bones that ache through muscle and sinew. It gnawed at him, griped at his mind and shredded his vision to pieces, replacing the thumping of his heart with a shrill, piercing tone. An ichor, black as night, pounded against his ribs, turning his veins coal and it shrieked and begged and demanded. Insurmountable pain leaves way to an insatiable thirst that ran his throat dry, replaced it with the blackness, a sticky tar that choked and pulled.[/i]

A scream jolted him awake, the sound so close to his ears that Errol immediately thrust himself into the headboard of his bed breathing heavy gasps of air. Touch awoke first to the sensation of wetness engulfing him, spreading against his sheets and Errol turned his head downward to see sweat slick against him, already freezing his skin as it evaporated to the intense wind of the fan. He breathed again, eyes darting around the room and upon finding nothing his brain almost shut down, lets him sink back into the dampness of his bed. It jolted with new information almost immediately, watering Errol's eyes as his hands reached his face and his hair to grip tight. He rolled over, tangling in the sheets to avoid the clammy, moist feeling seeping into his skin. The bed creaked against his heavy weight, heavier still with thoughts bearing down on him so early in the morning. Errol burrowed beneath his comforter, let out a sob and curled into a ball for the remainder of his morning, letting out hard gasps and squeezing his eyes shut harder each time. Numbness gripped him tight, letting go of his limbs one by one until the sensation of his arms and legs finally return - feeling, touch, every sense that quickly shut down, reemerged subsequently.

His sister sat numerous feet from his doorway once he stepped out, caught between wanting to barge in or making a break for it. Errol caught the minute shift of expressions in her face, the onset of fear that got quickly dragged away by shock and surprise. Cara practically broke a record in flitting between emotions, surprise making way to relief and then utter conflict that forced her into a flighty panic. A sigh broke watching her go, nearly spraining her ankle paddling down the steps. Too much at once before a shower and a cup of coffee.

The shower screamed cold water, seizing his muscles until they bunched into tight coils. After a moment, Errol dialed the temperature up, letting the heat raise in increments until the hot spray pounded against the taught muscles. The sensation ran through him, a deep, searing pain that dulled into an ache. Every thought released in a hum against Errol's throat. The day started, a slow acceleration after his damp feat hit the tile floor. Routine set in quickly after.

His phone beeped on the island table in the kitchen as he passes it, shirt still damp and his hair bouts of dripping tendrils smacking against his neck and cheeks. He answered after swiping it, pressing the phone against his ear with a curt, "[color=#a8f0dd]Mother.[/color]"

"You sound like shit-"

"[color=#a8f0dd]Thank you, so much,[/color]"

"-have you been doping up?"

"[color=#a8f0dd]Good morning to you too.[/color]"

"That was a serious question."

"[color=#a8f0dd]It always is,[/color]" Errol sighed, feeling his haunches relax and any will to defend seeping out of him. Routine. "[color=#a8f0dd]I've been sober for years; I'm fine, how are you?[/color]"

"There's an art gallery," his mother, as usual, doesn't miss a beat and before he could ask, she answered, "Your sister told me while you were busy beating it off in the shower."

"[color=#a8f0dd]I don't-[/color]"

"You're gay, it's okay, I understand."

"[color=#a8f0dd]That's not-[/color]"

"I'm heading down right now to spend quality time with my kids. Clean the house I paid for, act presentable for once in your life, and keep your sister's panic attacks down to one, today, I can only take so much," she prattled off and Errol listened, knowing how to read between each caustic, sour word she spat - [i]Don't forget to eat, take care of yourself, take care of your sister - I'm sorry[/i], "I love you."

Errol blinked, tapping his fingers against the marble counter. "[color=#a8f0dd]Drive safe?[/color]"

"Driving," she guffawed, her voice crackling against the phone, "Priceless." The phone clicked and the line dropped dead to Errol's rolling eyes.

He moved from kitchen to sun room with an ache in his stomach not attributed to hunger - or, at least, hunger couldn't fix this. His sweats rustled against the wood of his grand, white piano and his fingers slid against the pearl of each key. A figure caught against his peripheral the moment he sat, though Errol paid her no mind. Mornings often went like this and he enjoyed Cara's company the best when she felt comfortable; thinking he didn't know of her presence often gave her the most comfort.

Soft, lazy notes crooned, a vibrato with every keystroke Errol's thumb made. An almost lullaby, a song that glided through the air, smooth and gentle. A cloud note of words parting from Errol's lips, eyes closed in memory - muscles knowing the sluggish tempo in ever beat of his finger. The vibrato melds into Errol's own, whispering in a heavy-lidded tenor from. On his perch, Errol could see the listless expression of his sister rocking to the melody. He sang, like a blanket over her shoulders, somber against the piano, barely moving but in inches to the near satin of the music. The interlude fell into the ending bars until the words slipped away into a quiet echo.

"Who was that?" Cara piped, fed up with the ringing silence hanging between them. Errol didn't turn, merely let his fingers hover against the keys as he stared down.

He gave his answer a beat of a pause before turning toward her. "[color=#a8f0dd]Frank Sinatra.[/color]"

Laughter bubbled up at the mixed expression of anguish wrinkling her nose and cheeks. "[color=#a8f0dd]What's wrong with Sinatra?[/color]" Errol asked, mock shock twisting his features.

"Old, fedora, and overrated," she listed off as she stood, "either you're a hipster or a neckbeard; no inbetween."

"[color=#a8f0dd]Mobsters wore fedoras back then, too,[/color]" Errol retorted.

"Yes, and they've learned from their past mistakes."

Finally turning, Errol watched his sister's retreating form quickly scuttling into the living room. He gave into a sigh before standing, letting his toes curl against the wooden planks and the blood rush back into his legs. "[color=#a8f0dd][i]That's life,[/i][/color]" he whispered, hard and course to the stale air around him; his foot kicked out, stomping against the floor, heavy, "[color=#a8f0dd][i]That's what all the people say.[/i][/color]" He watched the back of Cara's head slide into the cushions of the sofa while he spread his arms to his own words, the TV droning the news as she, once again, cut off communication completely. His eyes turned toward the kitchen, his feet taking him to the fridge, while his hands began the meticulous task of breakfast.

"[color=#a8f0dd][i]Riding high in April,[/i][/color]" he hummed, a deep frown creasing the jowls of his face, "[color=#a8f0dd][i]shot down in May.[/i][/color]"[/color]