A little over a month has passed since Anon and I started hanging out together again. True to his word, every work night he is sitting at a table watching me play, though now he sits closer to the stage instead of hiding away in the back. A new vigor has found its way into my performances these days, energy returning as I start eating normally again. My body has a ways to go, but it at least it doesn’t look like a stiff breeze would knock my ass over. New feathers are filling out my wings; they still look like pale reflections of their former selves, but each new white plume shines in the light. I have started letting my hair grow out a little, my stubble turning into a short layer of freshly grown silver that covers my no-longer-bald head. My tail is beginning to swing to the beat of my songs again, and even the sad ones I wrote ages before have new life injected into them as I sway on stage.

Everyone has taken notice of the changes in me. Dave no longer looks at me with concern every night I come into work, and my bandmates enjoy seeing me play with such energy, a far cry from my normal depressed method of plunking away at my bass. Each weekend, Anon and I go somewhere new, mostly for food but sometimes just a nice place to sit and have a chat. He is looking better too, no longer constantly wearing the depressing outfit he favored, switching to a more casual look of a t-shirt and pants from time to time. I can see the burn scars on his arms but never question where they came from, nor the deep cuts across his forearms. We have both been through the shit our four years apart, we don’t need to explain every scar. After each day, he walks me home, saying goodbye with a hug that lasts a little longer each time. Life doesn’t seem like such a drag anymore, like something forced on me that I have to deal with. Instead, I feel like my life is something I can be happy with, even here in Skin Row.

Waking up in my apartment is no longer shit either. I mean, the couch is still a piece of shit, though a little less now that I found that fucking spring and ripped it out. I even yelled enough to get the landlord to replace my blinds. I think he was amazed to see one of his places not completely covered in trash and used needles. I had hung some posters up over the dents I had left in the wall, since I didn’t need him seeing those until after I had already fucked off outta here. It’s nice to have something of a dream again, even if it is simply not living here until I die of old age or alcoholism.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, yawning and stretching, ready to start a new day. That day being Friday morning, which means I should be getting a call in about—

My phone vibrates on the table, right on cue. I pick it up and check, yep, it’s my parents. The weekly call to make sure their daughter isn’t six feet under buried in concrete. I take a deep breath and answer the call, putting the phone up to my ear.

“Hey…”

“Hello dear…” My mom’s soft voice flows through my phone’s aged speaker. She always sounds the same each time she calls. Tired, scared, worried, but with a small bit of hope. If my dad is ever nearby, he never lets it be known…I’m fairly certain he’s still fuming about me up and leaving, but back then I had nothing left to give. I just wanted to be gone.

“Hey Mom. I’m still alive, as usual…”

“I’m…I’m very glad to hear it, dear.”

Usually this is where I let it end, us saying a quick goodbye, and then the next phone call would follow the same routine. But not this time.

“Hey Mom…” I say slowly as I carefully think about what to do here. I have been a ghost in their life for so long…should I even do anything? No, I need to do something. She loves me even now.

“Yes, Lucy?” The hopeful tone in her voice is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. I think she has been waiting for a long time for me to say anything new.

“I’m…I’m uh…” A knot forms in my throat, choking my words as I struggle to get through this. “I’m sorry…”

I can hear sniffles coming through the line, soft gentle cries as she takes it in. It is almost more than I can bear. I thought I could go through life never caring about what they thought of me until the day I died, but something has changed. I started to give a damn.

After a moment, she speaks. “I know, honey. I’ve known since you left that you didn’t mean to hurt us. Your spirit was broken. You believed you had nothing left to push for…I never thought less of you for it. I just…I wanted you to be happy, to be home.”

That’s all it takes for the waterworks to start, covering my eyes with my arm while trying to keep my composure. Even after four years of ignoring her every attempt to reach out to me, she still cares…something I don’t deserve after walking away.

“I’m just so fucking sorry I left you all behind.” I sharply inhale as I push aside my sobs as best I can. “I didn’t know what to do. My whole life had fallen apart and I thought I needed to get away from everyone and everything, but everything just got so much more fucked up. I…I—”

She cuts me off midsentence “You don’t need to say anything, Lucy. I love you more than anything. You’re still my little pirate princess, even after so long.”

Normally that would have pissed me off, but it does the exact opposite, flooding my heart with warmth to have her speak of me with care even after I abandoned them. I can’t do anything for a moment, overwhelmed by my emotions as I sob into the phone. For her part, she keeps speaking comforting words as I break down outside her reach, and I know how much she just wants to hold me right now.

Sniffling, I rub my eyes as I calm down with a deep sigh. “God, Mom. I’m sorry for the pain in the ass I’ve been. Fucking running away from home, not even telling you where I went. Ignoring you every time you tried to give a damn about me. I bet Dad still wants to throw me out a window.”

“Don’t apologize for being hurt, Lucy. I hoped…I knew one day you’d talk to us again, I only needed to wait for you to come to the door. And your father doesn’t want to hurt you. He misses you even if he can’t say it. He’s too proud to admit it, but he’s done nothing but fret about you since you left. Each night he holds a picture of you, staring at it for ages wondering where it all went wrong.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. The way he yelled at me when I left, I expected he’d cut all ties with me. I never knew he cared…”

“He always has, dear. He may be gruff and stoic, but he loves you so very much. He just doesn’t know how to show it. Too many years of seeing the worst in life has left him hardened. His shell is thick, but you could always break through it. You’re his little girl, his precious Lucy. He just wants you home.”

The words bring fresh tears to my eyes as I wipe them away with my blanket, gulping down another knot in my throat. “I can’t come home yet, Mom…I need more time. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Like what, Lucy? What happened?”

“I’m a mess, Mom. Skinnier than I’ve ever been and you’d be ashamed to see what I’ve done to my wings. I’m getting better, day by day, but I can’t come back yet. I just need a little longer.”

“Oh, Lucy…take all the time you need, honey. We will be waiting for you when you come home. Where do you live these days, anyway? You never did tell us where you were going.”

I hesitate for a moment; I don’t want to tell her I’m living in this shithole with the rest of the vagrants of this city, but I don’t want to lie to her anymore. “I’ve been living in Skin Row for the past four years, Mom.” I can hear her gasp in horror; it’s the reaction I had expected. “Don’t worry, I’m safe. The door is locked every night and I never stay out past nine. Nobody messes with me here. I’m too poor for them to care, really.”

She composes herself as I hear a massive sigh pour through the speaker. “I never thought that of all places you would end up there…but I am still glad you are safe. Please, be careful. I want you to come home in one piece.”

“I’ll be safe, Mom. I’ve survived four years here, haven’t I? I’m a lot tougher than most of the bastards who live around here. I’ve got stable employment and plenty of food to go around.” No way in hell I’m telling her about my alcoholism or the metric fuckton of smokes I go through every week.

I can hear the relief in her voice as she absorbs everything. “Better than living off the streets, I suppose. Take care of yourself, Lucy. Come home to us, whenever you like. We love you.”

“I love you too, Mom. I gotta go…I’ve got work in a little bit and I need to get ready.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll talk to you soon. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Mom.”

I set the phone down on the table and lean back into the couch. It’s sobering to think that after four years of barely existing to them, she is so open to just hearing me talk again. The fact that everything I’ve done hasn’t dented her love for me even a bit brings a smile to my face. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else; Mom never has shown anything but care for me, even when I fell apart in front of her. My dad, on the other hand, will probably still want to tear me a new one when he sees me again. An odd thing to even think about—I never planned to go home ever again, but here I am wondering if I might stop by, probably when I don’t look like a fucking skeleton with wings.

On that note, I hop up off the couch and go to the fridge. As good a time as any to stuff my face with some pizza. Dave made this one special for me a little bit ago, cooked it at home and brought it into work. It reminded me of the pizza from Moe’s, a pale reflection of his famous meateor pizza but still good. Tastes way better than the standard fare I’ve come to expect—not a bit of cardboard texture to be found, only delicious cheese and meats. I savor my pile of gooey warm pizza as my appetite has been growing every day and I always want more. After snapping the last piece out of the air, I wash the plate and head to the bathroom.

Shower time is a little longer these days now that I have some hair to wash, but I like it. Each day I feel a little better, a little more like how I used to be. I can’t afford fancy shampoo like at home, but it feels nice to have something to run my fingers through again. Even the crap water temp can’t bring me down, hard as it might try as it cuts out and I have to kick the pipe to start it back up. An easy day…just another Friday night out at the pizzeria with my band and my bass. I look at my arms and sigh…Dad is going to kick my ass when he sees the tattoos.

Finishing up my shower, I throw on my clothes. Maybe next paycheck—if I can keep myself from burning it all on cigarettes—I can buy something more than my drab all-black apparel. It might be nice to have some variety instead of a black top and black jeans all week long. I stare at the counter, looking at my eyeliner…maybe I can add some color tonight. Grabbing my old orange and purple makeup, I go to work on my classic look from high school, way back when. I admire myself in the mirror as the color brings life to my normally sullen face, the bright shades bringing out the light in my eyes, something that has been dark for so long. I smile at my reflection, starting to look a lot like myself again.

I scoot out of the bathroom and snap up my bass from the wall. I don’t need to be late admiring myself! Kicking the door closed, I quickly lock up and run down the stairs. Not that it’s going to be nighttime soon, but the guys want to practice a bit more before we go on and I’m not going to let them down. Jogging down the street, I make record time as I quickly bounce through the door, planting a peck on the cheek of Dave as I slide by him. He smirks, shaking his head as he goes back to cooking.

“How’s it going, guys?” I speak with an uncharacteristic cheer as I put my case down, catching the two by surprise.

Benji blinks at me a couple of times, still unsure how to react to a version of me that isn’t constantly moping. “Uh, going good, Fang! How about yourself?”

I smile at him, pulling the strap of my bass over my shoulder. “Doing pretty good, I guess. Better than usual, that’s for fucking sure.” Clicking on the amp, I strum a couple notes before nodding—still sounds good.

Jacob had been midbite when I barged in, nearly choking as he tried to swallow after the shock of a bubbly ptero had worn off. “Wow, Fang, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that color on you before. That new?”

“New to you guys, but I used to wear this all the time back home.” I shrug. “I just felt like changing it up a bit.”

“It looks great!” Jacob smiles after finally clearing his airway of bits of veggie pizza.

“Thanks, Jacob, buuuuut…” With a confident drag of the pick across the strings, I smile up at them. “Let’s get practicing then, guys! No one’s ever going to notice us if we don’t work our asses off.”

Both guys smile at that before getting their gear in order, and we practice for several hours in the back. The rumbling sounds of my bass nearly reach out into the restaurant as I hammer away at it. Though, as I play, I feel a longing, a small twinge of desire to hold my guitar again. Maybe later I’ll talk to Benji about it…he’s pretty good at bass as well, and I don’t think he’d mind. For now, though, it’s practice time. Dave sneaks in while we are jamming out and slides a few fresh pizzas on the counter, stopping us dead in our tracks as we scurry over to the table and devour it in seconds. As good as Dave’s cooking is, that pizza would be bricks within moments if we ignored it.

Going onstage no longer feels like a chore, with me just going through the motions to make it through another day. Instead, now I play like I have a full audience to impress, which isn’t actually too far off these days. Each night, a few newcomers to the audience come in—I guess word of mouth spreads quickly in this part of town. Every new face makes me feel better about myself a little more each day. Anon, for his part, sits as close as he can, cheering for me like I am the best musician on the planet. The stars in his eyes raise my confidence to levels I never thought it could reach again. This is my moment, my time in the spotlight—even here in the dark corners of Skin Row—and I am going to make it mine.

As we finish the show, people actually pick up a cd or two as they head out, one guy snagging up a t-shirt with our logo, the logo being a portrait of myself back when my hair was long and flowing, with my face flanked on either side by Benji and Jacob. I feel like something for once: even small time as I am, people are starting to love what I do, and I can’t help but smile. Taking down the stage equipment is quick work with us piling up the sound gear in the back and locking it up. Jacob heads out the door after a quick goodbye but I grab Benji’s arm just before he can take off.

He looks back at me with a quizzical look as I hold him in place. “What’s up, Fang?”

I let his arm go, twisting the strap of my case nervously. “Hey Benji, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What is it?” He turns around to face me, looking me square in the eyes.

“I wanted to know if you would be okay with me playing my guitar a little bit here and there…if it wouldn’t bug you.”

He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t bother me at all, Fang. You know I’ve been asking you about it. Just let me know when you want to try so I can bring my bass down instead. Be fucking weird for us both to play guitar with no one on bass.”

“No worse than trying to play two bass….” Thoughts of my old band drift into my head.

“Why in the world would anyone do that?”

“Dumbass marketing plans…but anyway, thanks Benji. I appreciate it. I’ll let ya know when I plan to give it a go. I’ll see ya next week.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Fang. See ya.” He waves before taking off down the street. I sigh as I get ready to head home then I hear a voice pop up from around the corner.

“Hey, Fang. Mind an escort home?” Anon calls out as he comes into view.

“Not at all, dweeb. Let’s get going, it’s fucking cold.” I start to shiver. Winter was growing closer day by day, and the drafty alleyways of this place suck even more now than during the baking summer heat.

“Of course, come on.” He waits until I catch up with him and we set off to my home.

The chill is cutting into me to the bone; a thin layer of feathers and scales is no match for a cold autumn breeze, but a good jacket has always been outside my budget. I gasp as I feel an arm reach around my side as Anon pulls me in close. He radiates warmth from that sweater of his. Sighing, a soft smile curls on my lips as I put an arm around his waist—my own portable furnace. The rest of the walk is slow but snug, the woolen fibers of his sweater warming me up the whole rest of the walk. The stars are already out and shining bright, the full moon illuminating the normally drab streets in a cozy ethereal light. I would not mind if this walk took an hour, it feels so right.

As we reach the front of my apartment, we part and look at each other for a moment. Neither one of us knows exactly what to say right now. A minute passes before I finally act for the both of us. I walk up to him, taking one of his hands in mine as I gaze into his eyes. I can see the nervousness in them…I don’t think he knows what to do, but I do.

“Anon…” I speak softly, capturing his full attention. “I know I said it’d take a while and I honestly thought it would but…” I draw closer to him, mere inches separating us. “Anon, I haven’t been this happy since everything went to shit. This month I’ve hung out with you has been the best time I’ve had in years. You can say I’m going too fast but…” I cup his cheek in my palm as I slowly raise my beak up to him. “I’d say life is too short for anything but this.”

With that, I pull his head down to me, planting a kiss on his lips which melt into mine. All the hurt slowly eases away in this moment. He has apologized, he has spent this past month showing me exactly how much he has changed, and the real him has come through. The Anon I loved back then, and the Anon I love now. He puts his hands gently on either side of my head, cradling it as we share a moment I thought we’d never have again, the chilling breeze not affecting me in the slightest as our passion reignites. Our hearts have been burning for this moment for longer than we can remember. My still-tattered wings wrap around him, bringing him as close to me as I can. The moment fades into infinity as every last speck of my being pours into this one kiss.

As we pull back from each other, we rest our foreheads against one another’s. I have let too much of my life go down the toilet, I can’t let any more of it die the same way. I start to chuckle, a small fit of laughter growing into a happy chorus as we stand there laughing in each other’s arms. Tears of joy and healing flow freely from us both as two wayward souls reconnect.

I slowly pull my wings back behind me as I step away a little and look up at his tear-stained face with a smile as he speaks. “So…does this mean…?”

“It means we’re together again, dweeb.” I chuckle as I watch his face turn red.

“Shit, Fang. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to top that if I tried.”

“You’ll have plenty of chances to try.”

He rubs the back of his head with a cough. “Welp, I guess I’d better get practicing.” He leans over, kissing me on the cheek and smirking. “One step at a time.”

“Oh, hell no you don’t.” I grab his head and pull him back down onto my lips, kissing him forcefully, knocking the breath out of his lungs before letting him go. “You see? That’s how you kiss.”

He stumbles back, taking in a deep breath to regain his composure. “Holy shit, Fang, let me breathe a little bit.”

“Hmmmmm…maybe.” I grin mischievously at him as he stands up straight.

He sticks his hands in his pockets as he sighs. “Well, I’d better get home, you know better than I do it isn’t safe to wander around at night.”

“I do but…” I grab his hand, tugging him back over to me. “I don’t want you to go tonight. Will you stay with me? I’m tired of being alone all the time. It sucks in that apartment with nothing but my thoughts.”

He chokes on his words for a minute trying to stumble out a sentence through the disaster of an emotional outburst he is trying to contain. “Uh—oh—er—sure—fuck, I mean…goddammit. Yeah, I mean if you want me to, Fang.”

“Do you want to, Anon?” I tilt my head as I look up at him.

He blushes a bit before nodding. “I do, I really do.”

“Then come on, I’ve got some movies we can watch before we go to sleep.” I lead him up the stairs to my apartment. It isn’t much, but it is comfier without all the trash and shit around. Looking a little frightened and out of place, he glances around the room as I put my bass away before sitting on the couch, patting a spot beside me. He looks like he is on a date with his first girlfriend ever…which I suppose I am yet again.

“Come on, dweeb. I don’t bite, you know that. Well…unless you piss me off, but…you wouldn’t make that mistake twice, would you?”

He shakes his head before plopping down next to me. “Hell fucking no, I ain’t making that dumbass mistake again. So, what’ve we got to watch?”

“I’ve got a few kung-fu movies here we can watch. Nothing special, just what I could bring from home.”

“Oh, hell yeah! I haven’t watched fighting movies in ages.” He bounces in place in excitement, and I can’t help but laugh at the dweeb.

We cuddle on the couch enjoying a couple of movies, Anon looking like a kid in a man’s body. I suppose he always has been that way—grown up, but every bit of his energy was still back in high school living out his dorky dreams. Not that I mind one bit, in fact I loved…I love that about him. Never one to be super formal and boring as fuck, just a guy trying to live his best life. As the hours go by, he falls asleep during the last movie. I don’t have the heart to move him, nor do I want to. Instead, I pull the blanket around us, settling one of my wings across his shoulder. I smile down at the dweeb. My dweeb. We’ve been through hell, but at least now we have each other.