indigo auclair. capitol. cbd2. fin

indigo

I can't see Ives, which was impressive considering this apartment was the size and temperature of an ice box, but I know she's still alive because I can hear her breathing. My head hurts, my lip is bleeding? Must have something to do with the violin bow stuck in our shades. I peel a sheet of music from my cheek and groan- "What time is it?" -as I lift myself off the floor.

'What day is it?' probably would've been the better question. Especially considering I had managed to get us a few new gigs since our last show. (Since I am still uncertain what day it is.) But that was a problem for later. Right now if I don't eat something I think I will probably die.

"Come on," I wipe at the bruises on my neck that I hoped were only lipstick stains, but their they stay. My rings catch in my hair as I search around in the dark for my leather jacket. "Diner food time, let's go." I grab a couch cushion and toss it back so that it hits her in the face. I scrape some quarters and small, crumply bills off the wobbly table and into my pockets.

And I make sure to finish off the stale beer. Definitely three days old.

"Come on, Ives, I will drag you." Which I had done before; she can get feisty when she drinks- or just in general. "You gotta tell me how to fix the fourth set without kicking Ruby out of the band." I give her one of those big brother, shit-eating grins.

"Plus eggs are good for you or something."

I'm a musician, not a science genius.