Vintage Memories

Chapter Four "A Resolute Warmth"

Angel posted himself on the couch, his slender frame bundled in the embrace of his multiple arms. Despite the comfort of the plush furniture, his body refused to relax. His arms still hugged himself tightly as he stared distantly across the room.

Cherri hurried into her kitchen, grabbing a spare rag and wetting it with warm water. Wringing out the overflow, she grabbed a couple of chilled beers and walked back into the living room, placing herself next to her silent houseguest. She nudged him gently, drawing his attention to the heated, wet rag she was offering him.

"Too clean your face, babe." She gently alluded to the mascara that still actively ran rivers down the gentle arches of his face, cumulating at his chin, and dripping off in charcoal ink-drops. 

He nodded, his lips upturning just barely into a feeble smile. This wasn't the first occurrence of Angel appearing at Cherri's doorstep in some sort of distraught state, and that familiarity acquired her a level of proficiency in calming him unlike any other.

"Thanks, toots." Angel sniffed and took the towel, draping the water-weighted fabric over his face, relishing in the relaxing warmth that enveloped his senses. He hummed in satisfaction. This would certainly aid the headache that was coming on from his explosive crying fit. 

A few hasty wipes, and he pulled the mascara stained rag back, still leaving slight patches of smudged grey in the now frazzled fur. Feeling a tad embarrassed, he actively avoided his friend's concerned and questioning gaze, keeping his stare at their feet. His forbearance dragged on for a while, practically counting each individual carpet fiber to keep his eyes away from her.

He had never crumbled so easily at the mere words of another sinner, leaving his pride thoroughly shot. That aphorism Alastor had called to him forcefully yanked away his cloak of fortitude right out of his unsuspecting hands, and, as he stood bare and unprotected, subsequently triggered an inroad of those hurtfully pleasant memories, each one proving harder to bear than the last. In that moment, the only thing that clearly rang through his psyche was the blistering urge to run. Now here he was, the only locality he could run to for safety, and he'd have to confess it all to his closest confidant lest she jump to her own conclusions. If only the couch he sat upon could swallow him whole, and aid his escape from this awkward circumstance.

"Angie, what's going on?" Angel bit his lip, barring himself from uttering a response. Cherri paused, carefully thinking of a way to word her next question.

"Is Val...bothering you again?" Angel felt his muscles lock at his formidable pimp's name, which only added validity to Cherri's concern. Her face twisted into an angry snarl. "I swear Angie, you just say the word and I'll blow his fuckin' clown lookin'-ass straight outta-"

"It's not Val..." Angel muttered, peeking up at his friend. She could easily recognize what was plaguing him upon her direct gaze over his careworn face. Angel, in intimate instances of comfort and trust that he would only grace her with, wore his emotions on his sleeve. His differently colored eyes opened like doorways between the charcoal portieres of his sweeping lashes; straight into his soul.

And all she saw within was heartache.

She pulled her friend into a gentle hug, letting him bury his face into her chest and neck. Four arms shot out and wrapped around her in an instant, clinging to her tightly, fingers enmeshed into the tattered material of her shirt. She had a rising suspicion of what it could be.

"Are ya' thinking of... him today, babe?" she  asked against his hair, his white locks licking at her chin.

His shoulders gave little tremors; he was crying again. That was all the answer she needed; she knew what was going on. She sat quietly, letting him unload his despair into the embrace they shared as he fell further into his paroxysm of weeping. The pyromaniac rested her rose-freckled cheek against his head, her hand gently sweeping up and down the slouched curve of his back for comfort.