It had been a few weeks since I first saw her. I guess I wasn't as ready to move on as I had thought. Her… Their face had been festering at the back of my mind, rotting it through. They spread like a poison into my thoughts, infesting my daily life with a constant shitty reminder. I would tell myself I was simply going out for smokes, then bite my tongue till it bled when my legs carried me towards that pizza parlor. It's not as if I was expecting something to happen. They clearly didn't recognize me. What would I even do if they did? Sweep her-THEM off their feet and make up for all the mistakes of the past? ‘Hey Fang! I know I abandoned you after calling you a faggot, but I’m sorry!’ Yeah, they would gouge my eyes out with those claws. They were doing fine without me. They were not my problem to fix. I am so fucking selfish… I know that they are better without me, seeing them smiling with the new band after playing, as if she didn't look ready to end it all while on stage a few minutes before. But people don’t change, I was still me and they were still Fang. I could catch glimpses of them beneath the tats and tattered wings. And yet here I was sulking after them, hoping that something would change. It wasn't for them. It was always for me. Even in school I never tried to actually care for them. I just didn't want to be alone. That's the crux of it all. I was always scared of being alone. I thought it was what I wanted in life. Me, a computer, a roof above my head, and no work. Had all I wanted because I never wanted much. Paradise. I fucking hated it. I fucking hated my apartment. I fucking hate my life! Still the same fucking loser clinging to the girlfriend 2 years after she dumped him! I tried to return to how things used to be. I really tried. Hopped on a few message boards and harassed some kids. But.. It wasn't relaxing. No , it was the fucking opposite. It was infuriating! One message that came too close to home and I would be trembling with rage, typing about how awesome my life is, trying to justify my existence to some 14 year old online. You're lying. I was. I was lying to strangers online while crying on my keyboard like a fucking baby. You should kill yourself. I should… How did I get this way? It was bad before I saw them again, but I was never this… emotional. I had everything in check and then they came in and fucked it all up. I should be furious at them, but I couldn't even ignite a spark of anger. Just.. a fucking fool filled with self pity. Currently I was trudging towards the pizza joint, a slight limp the only evidence of my stint in the navy. This would be the last time I went. And I was pretty sure I meant it this time. A weight in my pocket a constant morbid reminder of what was to come. But that was a thought for future Anon. Present Anon could now see the establishment ahead of him. A cold breeze had me pulling my beany a little tighter around my ears. What month was it now? I had kind of stopped paying attention to the days as well. Time seemed to slip by me these days. A weird sense of deja vu overcame me at that thought, but I shook it off as I made my way inside. There wasn’t much to say, I’d been here before. Same dingy walls, same dingy pizza. But.. it did have a nostalgic air to it. I’ve only been here some odd number of weeks, yet I could picture a longer history with it. Food crappy enough that kids would love it, cheap enough that struggling parents could regularly bring them here. Lovesick teens could bust out a 10$ bill for their date, pretending their booth was a reservation. Skinrows own little escape. An errant twang had my attention shifting to the stage earlier then I planned. There on the little stage they stood, an embarrassed blush dusting their cheeks as they scowled at the bass, quickly fiddling with the out of tune string. She- They still hurt to look at. They were so skinny. Their hair, while no longer completely buzzed, was so short and rough. But worst of all was still their wings… Discolored and patchy, it was clear they had been severely over preened. The malnutrition probably causing its own issue on feather growth. One of the band mates, the drummer, made a comment to Fang, causing her to lash out with what I was sure to be a snarky rebuttal, before turning her attention back to the troublesome instrument with a grin tugging the corners of her mouth. Despite their troubles, Fang was still there. Peaking out from behind the curtain at little moments like these. Until they started to play. The transformation was startlingly quick, almost as soon as a claw plucked the first note. Smile gone, face fallen, eyes dead. Fang was gone, and the ptero I saw my first time here, was back. They looked as if playing was physically painful, a sad frown etched into their face as any energy they had evaporated as they went through the motions of playing. Listlessly following the tune that they had to, like a machine without emotion. This ptero hated playing music… It was depressing to watch. But I watched and listened anyways, committing every sound to memory. I gorged myself on pizza and coke, much more than my average order, and I listened to them play that bass they seemed to hate so much. Their band's crowd of devout followers had grown a bit, a few more familiar faces reappearing to listen to them. A few more CDs sold. The bands (Silver Dream I think they called themselves.) music was a bit more upbeat, a little more lighthearted than Wurm Drama’s was. It would have been more my taste really, but it was missing the one thing I liked about that old band. Fang. Wurm Drama was batshit insane and edgy, edgy for the sake of being edgy. Against the system because that’s what rock bands do! No real soul. But it did have emotion. Fang’s anger, hatred, and confusion bled into the songs when they played, gave it a soul for Trish and Reed to piggyback off of. Now though? Fang’s band mates had the emotion, the soul. Fang seemed almost like she-THEY were drug behind in their wake against their will. And that alone was enough to make me hate their music. Not that I hated them that is. They honestly seemed like they were good friends to Fang. And I wasn’t joking about their soul either. Where Trish was money hungry and Reed was apathetic, these two seem to enjoy the music. The vocalist chatted and interacted with the people who would buy a cd instead of pushing more merchandise. The drummer would phantom through his sets before they played instead of getting high on carfe. They seemed like alright dinos. But they were not my focus right now. No, my eyes rarely left the sad ptero. Usually I wouldn’t stare so much, mainly in fear of being recognized, but I was feeling a little selfish tonight (shocker). So I stared like a love struck creep until they had strummed their last note. Hanging onto that last sound until it was an imaginary vibration echoing in my head. A sigh escaped me as I turned back to the bar. I haven’t drank since that night, but I found myself wishing the parlor sold beers. Beggars can’t be choosers so I savored every sip of the crappy, not so carbonated, coke. The weight in my pocket seemed to grow heavier as I delayed my departure. I tried to ignore the shadow that weighed above me by fiddling with my phone, finger ghosting over the photo app before returning to mindlessly browsing. I felt more so than heard someone take the stool next to me. I also nearly did a spit take of coke when I saw who it was. Slumped over the bar was the ptero from the stage. They grunted something to the old man behind the counter as he went to the back. He returned quickly and slid a beer to the sickly ptero. They popped the cap off with a claw and chugged the swill. “Haaaahh.” The light returned a bit to their eyes as a pleased sigh rushed past their lips. “That fuckin hits the spot.” Fang was back. Fang was right there. I could reach out and touch them. My stomach spasmed as my heart beat harder. They were to fucking close! At distance it was fine, but they would recognize me for sure this close. I leaned onto my hand, using it to block my face as much as I could without drawing attention. I jumped out of my skin when I felt something tap my shoulder. Glancing through my fingers I saw Fang had turned around and was stretching, wings spread and back against the counter as they glanced towards me and the offending limb that had brushed me. “Heh sorry pal. Damn things have a mind of their own sometimes.” They retracted back behind Fang and were pinned to the bar as they leaned against it nonchalantly. I gave a stiff dip of my head that I hoped could be taken as a ‘No problem’ as I tried to keep steady the stool. My hand was gripping my beanie so tight my knuckles were white. Fuck calm down.. They don’t know yet, but if you keep acting like a goddamn murder suspect they’ll get suspicious. Fang was still just… eyeing me. My paranoia whispered that she was thinking of where she’s seen me before. “You know I once knew a skinnie like you…” Oh shit. “He was a real asshole but-“ “Hey Fang!” Thank you. The vocalist called from across the room, waving a hand. “We’re not done yet! You know you’re not supposed to be slinking off to drink, we still have to pick up everything!” A low groan rumbles from Fang’s throat as they stand. “Fuck can I get a single minute!” They glared at the singer half heartedly before trudging over to a nearby table and grabbing the trash from it. I practically deflated when Fang finally left. My fist curled into the fabric over my chest as I shakenly tried to get my breathing under control. A few quick breaths was all it took to smother the spike in emotion. My chest ached with loneliness and self pity. I couldn’t stay here, not with what I planned to do tonight… I tossed a 20$ on the counter and sped walked out before Fang had the chance to notice. I had sworn to myself… No turning back, no more ‘I’ll do it next time’, no more bullshit. Anon wasn’t going to bitch out tonight. The cold hit me a little harder than expected as the door closed behind me. The chill sneaking its way into the cracks in my clothing, making me pull my arms in tighter to my body. I pulled a quick 180 as my feet tried to autopilot myself home. But tonight I was going somewhere else. Somewhere more dramatic, less cliche. I let my eyes wonder, drinking in the squalor of the area. Needed to keep my mind busy, away from feathers and tats. I didn’t want to think of that Fang, the one I hurt, who hates me.. not tonight. No, tonight I was walking in that back alley marketplace with a Fang who let me bum cigarettes and laughed at my stupid jokes. I slipped a pack out of my pocket and tapped one out. I splurged a little more for tonight. The same crappy cigs Fang had loved. I was feeling sentimental. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep puff. Savoring the nostalgic burn. Living in a little fantasy. A smile gracing my face for the first time in 2 years. My fantasy was broken when my feet stumbled a bit as the road turned to sand. I was here. I wouldn’t call it pretty. It was too dark to enjoy the water, the lights from the city keeping the stars hidden away. But the waves made a gentle sound and the lights shimmered in the murky depths. More than I deserved. I dropped onto my butt and leaned back on my arms, not caring if my pants filled with sand. I savored my cigarette, slowly taking short drags. Delaying myself… I let my mind wander to the imaginary Fang again. Sitting on this same beach, this time denying the drink. We would lay in the sand making fun of all those losers at prom, not caring about what they thought of us because only we mattered that night. It was a silly dream. But one I wanted to enjoy for a little bit longer. My phone found its way in front of me, opened up to my photos. Seeing her happy and healthy made my eyes water. This is your fault. It was, I had fucked everything up. Everyone you’ve met has been worse off for it. Ya sounds about right. I’m a fuck up and a loser. And I haven’t changed. My cig ran dry. And with it my last excuse. I almost reached for another one, but instead I grabbed the weight in my pocket. If I delayed any longer I might lose my nerve. The gun wasn’t anything special, I had asked for the cheapest one they had. But it would do it’s job. Now was the time. I was surprised at how calm I was. I wasn’t stoic or anything close, but I wasn’t a bawling mess like I assumed I would be. Honestly, I just felt tired. As if I had been awake a few hours past my usual time. I glanced down to my phone again, the sight of what I lost spurred me on. I reached into my other pocket and pulled out the envelope. No point in thinking about it. I placed the white paper on the sand and set my phone on top, and after a bit of hesitation, dug it into the sand a bit to prop up the screen so I could see them smiling at me. Whew. Ok now, how do I want to do this? Barrel in the mouth? Nah, I was suddenly scared I would blow a hole out the back instead and survive long enough for the ride of shame to the hospital. Straight on to the forehead? My hands were shaking too much for me to steady the barrel. Fuck I don’t want to see it coming! I settled on the tried and true, under the chin straight up. That could work, easy to pull the trigger and I didn’t have to look at it. It also had the benefit of giving me a clear view of Fang's smiling face. One last check to make sure it was loaded and I was ready… I pressed the barrel to my chin hard to help keep it steady. I was scared, but I wouldn’t let a tear escape my eye. Not tonight! Anon the failure was going to get it right on the first try! I clenched my eyes shut and started to squeeze. When nothing happened I squeezed a little harder. Then harder. Fuck! Come on! Why is the trigger so damn heavy! I couldn’t even hear the waves anymore as the blood rushes in my ears. Just a little harder Anon.. I heard a sound break through to my ears. A small creak as the hammer slowly slid back. My shaking stopped, my eyes crept open to look at our happy faces one more time illuminated on the screen, and my weak hands found their strength again. Here lies Anon Y. Mous. He couldn’t change. I pulled the trig- Bang! Pain erupted through my face as I was knocked over. Fuck… FUCK! How the fuck did I mess this up! It felt like I drug a knife up my face! I tried to focus on my surroundings. My head was foggy.. Sounds muted to a high pitch whine as my eardrums popped. My neck felt like I had gotten whiplash. Something wasn’t right.. I felt something grab me and I was rolled onto my back. Something hit me . Yeah no shit Sherlock! I clenched my teeth against the pain, every little movement causing fire to race across my face. My eyes creaked open, almost blinded by a light as what I could only assume to be blood seeped into my vision. A blurred shape moved above me, slowly coming into focus. No.. Anyone but you. I didn’t want you to see this.. They were saying something, shouting at me. All I could hear was a muted muffle, but I didn’t need to hear to see who it was. Fang stood over me, tears beginning to prick her eyes. But her face was an angry scowl as she screamed down at me loud enough to break through the muffled water surrounding my ears. “You better not die you fucking coward!”