chrysalism. n.
the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension...
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New York, New York. August 28th, 2017. Tony Stark's office. 3:57 PM.
The band had spent the last week busting their asses to finish the album ahead of schedule since none of them could stand to be recording without their bandmate. Malone sat, slumped over in a chair in front of Tony's desk, between Kenny and Ryan, half-listening to the conversation happening around her. Her mind drifted to memories of Cole, happy and sad, and her heart hurt. Living without Cole was something that Malone could have never imagined, but now that it had become real, the future in her eyes looked bleak. She begged the universe to let her hug him one last time, take back her last words, take back everything except the good things. To just hear him laugh, see his smile, even for him to make fun of her just one last time. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of her brother, and she was physically unable to think of anything else.
"Malone?" Tony called, not receiving an answer. "Malone?"
"Hm? What?" She responded, rubbing her eyes.
"Do you have an input?"
"No, uh. No, I don't really care. Whatever they want."
"Whatever they want?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "That's a bold statement coming from you."
"They know what's best," she responded, leaning down to grab her soda bottle that was laid on the floor next to her chair. She unscrewed the cap and took a big drink before returning her attention to the scenery outside of the office window.
"I'm sorry Mr. Stark," Kenny said, slowly removing his glare from Malone and back to Tony. "It wouldn't be right. He was the backbone of this band, we can't do a tour without him."
"I see where you're coming from, I do. But you have to see it from my side, from a business standpoint. I put all my eggs for this label in your baskets, you were my first shot. I was really relying on you kids, but I respect your decision, I really do. It's just a shame that your fans will never get to hear 1942 live, it's really blown up in the last few weeks."
Malone's heart broke upon hearing that the song she wrote for Bucky was becoming their hit song, and she hastily stood from her chair with her drink in hand and walked out of the office as tears fell from her eyes. She ignored the calls from the office as she got into the elevator and rode to where she could find Steve. She approached his door and started knocking, not getting an answer. She knocked harder and called for him, still, no answer. The door to the left of Steve's opened, and Natasha poked her head out.
"Steve's out, did you need something?"
"No," Malone replied, wiping tears from her face and turning back towards the elevator. She went back to the floor where she lived and slammed her bedroom door, flopping onto the bed.
___
5:48 PM.
Malone woke from her nap and softly but quickly walked to her bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she passed it. Her own reflection startled her, not recognizing the girl who stared back at her. Her skin was dry and pale with dark bags under her puffy eyes, her hair was knotted since it hadn't been brushed since they returned from Mongolia. She wore an old pair of black leggings and one of Cole's big band t-shirts that still smelled like him. She leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on her face before a wave of nausea hit her like a ton of bricks. She scrambled to crouch over the toilet and threw up, despite not eating in the last few days. She got up and flushed the toilet, leaning back over the sink to rinse her mouth out and rinse her face. She walked out of the bathroom and grabbed Cole's favorite denim jacket before slipping on a pair of socks and carefully exiting her room. She quietly got into the elevator and rode it up to the top floor, where the one person she could talk to without judgment lived. She took a deep breath before going to knock on the door, but the door opened before she had the chance. Loki stood on the other side of the door in an olive green long-sleeved t-shirt and his hair brushed over his ears. He stepped aside and motioned for Malone to come in, which she did. She plopped on his living room couch with a groan, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. Loki carefully sat on the other end of the couch, waiting for her to say something.
