My eyes slowly open as a tired yawn escapes my snout. Anon is still out cold. It’s not surprising, since I didn’t give him much time to rest…not that he’ll be complaining at all, I’m sure. Stealthily removing myself from his arms and the covers, I pick up the scattered clothes off the floor. I guess it’s laundry day, also holy fuck it’s cold in here! Walking around naked isn’t the best idea on a winter day with how fucking drafty this place is. I’m shaking like a leaf as I gather up the last of the clothes when I hear stirring from the couch.

He rolls over, eyes barely open taking in the sight of me with a bundle of clothes in hand, and not a stitch on me. A discerning nod and a shit-eating grin later, he gives me a thumbs up.

“Nice.”

“S-shut the f-fuck up, d-dweeb. I’m f-f-freezing to death out here.” I flip him the bird while hurrying over to the clean clothes’ pile, dropping the dirty clothes to the side and putting on a fresh set before I turn into a popsicle. I can hear his disappointed “aww” from behind me, earning himself yet another flip of the bird.

“Not like it’s going to be the only time you see me wandering around naked, so calm it with the bitching.” That gets his attention as his face flushes and he gives a shaky nod of approval. “I’m going to head down and start up some laundry; the pile is getting massive. I’m taking yours with me.”

“What the heck am I going to wear while I wait?” He pulls the blanket around him tighter, turning into a makeshift burrito.

“That, obviously. Your clothes smell like cheap booze and cigarette butts. Need a wash even more than mine. Just sit there, text me if you’re bored, I’ll be back in an hour.”

A final whine and a shuffling of the blanket are the last noises I hear as I put my boots on and grab a pile of quarters off the counter. The laundry room is the same disaster it always has been, with forgotten clothes piled up in the corner from people who put their shit in and left it…or died before they ever got back to pick it up. Another unfortunate reminder of how terrible this place really is. I pile the clothes in the washer, flick a detergent pod into the top, and slam it shut. The jingling of a few quarters down its gaping maw and it roars to life.

I don’t dare leave while it’s running—you do that and you’ll come back to either no clothes or them joining the graveyard in the corner. I lean against the wall, flipping through my phone, checking texts from the band. Jacob sent me a picture of him holding one of the fancier frozen pizzas with the biggest dopey grin on his face. Benji is proudly standing next to a street bike—no more long-ass runs for him every day!

Seeing them both so happy only reaffirms the feeling in my heart that we are going to make it, one way or another. Our band is on the rise, and it won’t be long till people start noticing me on the street, though hopefully not here. I do not need to get shanked on the way home because people start thinking I’ve got money to burn. This place devours dreams, the desperate aura permeating it clawing down anyone who might make it out and I can’t let that happen to us.

The spin cycle is my only companion down here in this dank room. It always smells like rust and stagnant water, surprising the machines even work anymore. Nothing else is really maintained except them. The building manager would be buried in complaints if he let them stay broken for more than a day.

My phone rings in my hand—it’s Anon.

“So cold.”

“You’ll live, it’ll only be a little while longer. Just turn on the tv, plenty of garbage to watch on a Saturday morning.”

“Oooooh, wonder if they got any anime reruns on right now.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Whatever dweeb, just be patient.”

Hanging up and stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I tap my boot on the concrete floor. The slow beat grows until my tail starts to swing to it. Humming as I close my eyes, I tilt my head side to side until the ping of the washer snaps me out of my trance. Hurling them into the dryer, I go back to my own personal concert. Dreams in my head of standing up on stage in the stadium to an audience of thousands. A confident grin on my face as I imagine them all shouting and cheering, singing our songs back to us. It is more than a dream, it is a possibility, one I intend to make real.

With laundry finally done, I hop upstairs and toss Anon’s clothes at him. He swiftly throws them on with a sigh of relief, the fresh heat of the dryer warming his bones.

“Ahhhh…that is so much fucking better. Thanks, Fang.”

“Least I could do after not letting you sleep.”

“I’m not even remotely complaining about that.”

“Course you aren’t. You’d be an idiot if you did.” I smirk at him, kissing him on the cheek as I settle in beside him. “So…about moving in together…”

He looks around my apartment, measuring things with his hands and rubbing his chin. “Yeah, we could make it work. Might need to Tetris a few of your boxes but I’ve got wall space for your instruments. Dunno about this couch, though.”

“It’s not coming with. We can huck it in an alley and be done with it.”

“Awww, don’t want to take it and any good memories shared on it?”

I cock an eyebrow at him with my lips pursed. “Anon, this couch has been trying to poke a hole in my ass since I got it. Only reason I kept it is because I’m too fucking poor to buy another one. It’s going to die in the street where it belongs.”

I can see the disappointment in his eyes as he pats the armrest. “You served us well, little couch.”

I wrap a wing around him and pull him close to me, whispering in his ear. “Don’t worry, we can make plenty of new ‘memories’ at your place.”

With that, I can almost swear he is about to fling the fucking couch right out the window. “Out with the old, in with the new! The new being a twin-sized mattress with a hole in it, but still new!”

I stare at him in disbelief. “How…how the hell did you put a hole in your new mattress?” My voice is laced with concern, hoping there has to be a good explanation for it.

He shrugs. “I tried to make a better rail gun using my experience from the Navy and it exploded. Took out a corner and half a box of cigarettes.”

My pupils shrink in shock as my jaw hangs open. “What…? The how the fuck what? You know what, fuck it, just don’t do any more of that crap when I’m nearby. I don’t need any new burns.”

He shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively with a smirk. “Don’t worry about it, Fang. I may be an idiot, but I’m not so dumb as to try that twice…unless…if I had some gold-plated connectors…”

“Just…no, Anon. Please no trying to blow yourself to bits. I do not need to spend my life piecing you back together every night.”

“Fiiiiiine, I’ll behave. Mostly.”

What have I gotten myself into? I cover my face with my hands, shaking my head with a sigh. Ah well, I know what I signed up for when I took him back into my life. Even with the potential of him trying to blow himself up on the regular, I can’t deny the results from all his work. Without him, it would have taken ages to get where we currently are after just a month.

“So…” He breaks the silence that has settled over us while I am mulling through my thoughts. “When are you moving in?”

I drop my hands to my sides, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. “Well, I gotta be out in a couple weeks so probably like right the fuck now. Let’s get packing!”

He stammers for a bit before I grab him by the arm and hand him a few spare boxes and trash bags. Not that I have much to move, what I brought with me being all I really ever had except for when shit broke down too much to be used. He stuffs all my clothes in a bag while I gather up my bass and guitar, tightly locking them in their cases for the trip. All in all, it only takes an hour to gather my meager possessions from the cabinets and bathroom while tossing the couch to the curb. I look at the small pile with a somber frown on my face. Anon takes notice immediately as he comes over beside me.

“What’s wrong, Fang?”

I sigh wistfully, my eyes still focusing on the small pile. “It’s just…I was here for four years. Four long years trying to make something of myself and I’m leaving here with next to nothing new. I guess I never really did anything at all the whole time.”

He turns me to face him as he pulls me into a hug, my arms wrapping around his back as I bury my face in his sweater. “You survived, Fang. So many people come here and the only thing they do is leave behind a chalk outline.” He gently places a finger under my beak, tilting my face up to his. “Don’t put yourself down, not when you are about to be the most famous band in all of Volcaldera Bluffs.”

A cheerful smile slowly forms on my lips as I peer into his eyes. “You’re right, Anon. I’ll leave this all behind me and get to fucking work. Volcaldera won’t know what hit ’em when I get on that stage.”

He grins down at me. “Damn right they won’t. Come on, let’s get your stuff outta here.”

I grab my cases and he slings the two bags over his shoulder and grabs a box in his hands as I take one last look around. This was my home for so long, my prison and almost my grave at the end. But now I get to leave it all behind me, with only my dreams to look forward to. With a hopeful sigh, I lock the door for the last time, dropping the key off at the manager’s office as we leave the building.

The walk to his home is quiet. I am in my own mind, thinking about all the time I spent there. How when I first arrived, I had a little hope—not much, but something that kept me going. The years slowly chipped it away until nothing but an apathetic void filled my heart. Each day bled into the next until finally I gave up. I turned my body into a tapestry of sorrow with every tattoo, shaving myself bald—which I admit I now regret, but at least it’s growing back. I’m keeping the tattoos, though. Can’t let myself forget how close I came to hitting bottom.

My boots crush dead leaves and newspapers as I look ahead of me. Anon is leading the way, confident strides as he effortlessly carries my belongings. For all the bad that happened to him, the Navy has done him at least a few favors. A soft smile lingers on my lips as I watch him. No matter what happens now or how hard we have to work to get where we are going, I have him. I’ll always miss the years we lost, but we have a future now, something to look forward to.

A few more blocks and we arrive. The familiar neighborhood brings back good memories of the short few days we spent together here; my only wish is that we would’ve had more. He leads me up the stairs, the banisters barely held together with duct tape and wood glue. He wasn’t joking, this place really has gone to hell. He fishes the keys out of his pocket and opens the door, letting me step in first.

“Welcome to my tiny corner of this terrible place called Skin Row.” He puts my stuff down in the corner, slinging the bags on top of each other before turning back to me and gesturing toward the wall. “Can put your guitar and bass over there. I’ll put up some stands on the wall later.”

I lean them both against the wall, taking a seat on the bed as I observe what was to be my home for the foreseeable future. It looks better than my place by a lot. No dents in the wall, no old stains coating the paint, and the floor isn’t covered in tissues…not that I had given him any time to clean. In a flash, he tosses piles of takeout food containers and beer cans into bags and hurls them out the window, landing with a thud in the dumpsters below.

“Wasn’t expecting you to literally move in the day after you asked but what can you do?” He shrugs as he throws another bag out the window.

“Just felt like there was no time like the present to get my ass moving. I didn’t want to be there anymore…it was getting too depressing.”

He takes a seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as I lean against him. “I get it, trust me. Not like I was happy ending up back here. It reminded me of high school and how I fucked up, losing everything that mattered, and how many months I spent in here moping before finally shipping my ass off to the Navy. But with you back…” He puts a hand on my cheek, turning my face toward his before giving me a kiss. “Now this place can be our palace until the day we leave this shithole.”

A tiny hint of blush fills my face with warmth as I smile at him. “You’re right. Our little shelter in the storm until I make it big and we can do whatever the hell we want.”

“Damn right! Oh yeah, I got something to show you.” He clamors up off the bed before tripping and slamming into the floor. I wince as he staggers back to his feet with a thumbs up. “I’m okay!” He walks over to his table and pulls a tube off it before unscrewing it and unfurling the poster inside.

My mouth drops open as I take in the sight. It is a beautifully rendered picture of me, stars glittering around, my guitar in hand as I stand on a stage, my hair flowing in an ethereal breeze. Strands of Silver is printed in gorgeous lettering across the top with Benji and Jacob looking like a pair of badasses in the background.

It nearly brings a tear to my eye as I examine the incredibly detailed work. “Holy crap, Anon. It’s fucking amazing! How in the hell did you do this?”

He has a smug smile on his face as he rolls it back up and sticks it back in the tube. “I had a lot of off time stuck on that ship and it’s all I’ve been up to since I got back. I’ve gotten pretty fucking good at these art programs.”

He isn’t bullshitting, it looks as close to professional as I can hope to get. With this kind of talent behind me, there’s no fucking way we aren’t going places. After the shock wears off, I hop up off the bed, wrapping him in my wings with an ear-piercing shriek of joy.

“Holy shit, Anon. You’re amazing! My band is going to take off, just like I dreamed!” I bounce him in my embrace, spinning him in circles as he struggles to keep a grip on me, him laughing alongside me the whole time.

As I calm down and we slowly steady, my arms wrap around his shoulders as he holds my back, rubbing my cheek against his. “What in the world would I do without you, Anon?”

“You would have done anything you put your mind to, Fang. You’re incredibly talented, far more than I’ll ever be. I’m just lucky you saw something in me, you’re so fucking out of my league.”

I lean away from him, looking him straight in the eyes I shake my head. “I would have been dead on that beach. If you hadn’t come back, that’s where Fang the dreamer would have ended. A miserable end to a shitty life. But now that you are back, nothing is gonna stop us. So, let’s get to work.”

I give him a kiss on the lips before picking up my guitar and settling in on the bed. He smiles at me before sitting at his desk, popping open his art programs and the places he is scouting for my band. I sing softly as I strum away, him humming along from time to time. This is everything I need for my future: practice and someone I can depend on. So much more than I thought I’d have again and a fire that burns inside hotter than it has ever been. I will succeed, and I will show Trish that I don’t need to be some fucking social icon to get somewhere…the thought makes me miss a chord causing a discordant twang to echo across the room.

“You okay there, Fang?” Anon spins his chair around to look at me with concern.

I sigh as my gaze drifts to the floor. “Yeah, I’m fine just…thought of Trish again. Fuck, she could have ruined everything for me. She nearly fucking did. All those ideas of hers to try to bring attention to our band and ‘marketable’ plans that just ended up fucking us over. Not that I don’t still feel bad for slamming her into a locker but goddammit, if I had just stood up to her sooner, I could have saved our band ages ago.”

Anon reaches over, putting a hand on my shoulder before shaking his head. “No, you couldn’t have, Fang.”

That gets my attention as I jump back, pushing his hand off my shoulder, my wings flaring out. “The fuck you mean I couldn’t have?” A tinge of anger is in my voice as I glower at him.

He holds up his hands in surrender before continuing. “Don’t take any offense from this, Fang. I don’t mean you couldn’t have done something, but that band was fucked out of the gate. Trish never would have stopped trying something new and stupid, dragging you guys down. You couldn’t have saved it because there was nothing you could have done to stop it.”

The rage inside me calms down as I take a deep breath, exhaling all the anger out of my body and replacing it with shame as my wings relax. “Shit, sorry Anon. I thought you were saying that I didn’t have a fucking chance—”

“That band didn’t. Your new one definitely fucking does.” He leans over, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Your new bandmates respect you and they are fucking good at what they do. All they need is a leader—the leader I know you can be—to bring them all the way to the top.”

I slowly smile at the dweeb; he always knows what to say. “Thank you, Anon. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

He smiles back at me, that damn confident smile of his. “I know you won’t, Fang, and I won’t screw up either. I’ll get your name across this entire town even if it takes me forever.”

We spend the rest of the day practicing, my fingers nearly bleeding as I play for hours on end with him tapping away at the keyboard, pulling up venue after venue searching for new places for me to go. The more I look at what he pulls up, the more a small pit of sorrow fills my heart. I know I’ll have to leave Pizza Time eventually, or at least mostly. I can’t stay there if I want to have any real hope of making it big. I don’t want to hurt Dave, but there is no way around it. One day I’m going to have to tell him I’m going, but I’m not looking forward to when that day arrives.

Anon eventually stops me from playing when he spots a trickle of blood drip from my fingers, bandaging up my hand before stepping into the kitchen to cook us up some food. Art isn’t the only talent he has picked up as I smell the aromas flowing out of the kitchen. I snicker as I listen to him mumble to himself like he is on some cooking show, the fucking dweeb, but I can’t argue with the result: a delicious plate of spaghetti with flavors I didn’t know you could pull from a can of sauce.

 After slurping down our meal, he tosses the plates in the sink before we settle into bed for the night. An old familiar pose, my wings draping across him as I rest on one of his arms, the other wrapping around my waist. He falls asleep first, softly snoring in my arms as I look at him. He’ll never truly know how much he means to me. I can only hope I can show him a little more each day.