Chapter 10 (His aching heart and mind)

Mitchel

The morning after Molly's birthday was one of the most painful things he'd have to experience in his entire life. His head hurt. His body ached. Everything ached.

But the sound of singing birds woke him up from seemingly the greatest sleep he'd had in a very long time. His head pounded and it was much too painful to keep his eyes open for too long. Luckily he didn't have to throw up- after many years of parties and drinking, he developed a strong stomach that was good at holding alcohol, even the cheap stuff you find in sketchy shops.

 His bodily pain was not the worst of all: Mitchel hadn't forgotten a thing. It defeated the whole point of his drinking. The previous night still haunted Mitchel and he could recall every single event in his mind much too vividly. The parts that he least wanted to remember played in his mind as he laid in bed, and nothing could wash them away. 

Finally, after laying in bed and thinking of the pervious night, Mitchel slowly sat up, his hand bracing his throbbing head. His room stank of tequila, and he knew that it would waft through the hall and alert Clinton if his bedroom door opened. Slowly, Mitchel eased his way out of bed and pushed open his window. 

The sound of cawing and singing birds was much more prominent and it really pissed him off, but he kept it open. He then moved to collect his two and a half empty bottles, wondering how he was able to drink so much. Because of his restrictions, Mitchel was unable to drink often, and got high even less. He rinsed them out and threw them into the recycling bins outside. 

Mitchel then took off his clothes from the previous night and threw them into the washing machine with the rest of his laundry and took a shower. After, he walked through his room while spraying Island Breeze air refresher until his room smelled like Island-That-Had-A-Few-Too-Many-And-Needs-To-Get-A-Cab-Home-Because-Damn-You're-In-No-Shape-To-Drive-Back-To-Your -Villa-Breeze. Mitchel tossed the near empty can onto his bed and threw open his door, taking a few steps out and then turning back around. He walked back into his room and took a deep sniff. Immediately, he burst into a coughing, hacking fit, trying to clear his nostrils and throat from the burning sensation.

He coughed for almost three minutes and fell to his hands and knees, causing a half dressed Clinton to throw open his bedroom door and run down the hall to him. He instantly started coughing as well, and the two of them coughed together on the floor. "Mitchel!" he wheezed. Mitchel gasped for air and tried to stand up. "What the fuck is that smell?" Clinton demanded. 

Mitchel tried to clear his throat. The putrid smell finally started to seep through the window and filter through the air vents in the house. Even though Mitchel knew that lying would get him nowhere, he did just that: "I was trying out a new air refreshener and I think I used too much," He said. And part of it was true. 

Clinton gave Mitchel a hard glare before using his forearm to wipe his nose clean from the thin layer of sweat that had collected on his skin. "I though you were dying or something," He grumbled. "Stop being such an idiot." he said. Clinton was a smart man, and he could definitely see through Mitchel's lie. It was more than probable that he was still tired from the night before, and not quite ready to deal with Mitchel yet. 

+ + +

The next few days were relatively uneventful. The band worked on a new song for their upcoming album in-between visits from Clinton and Christian's significant others. Sydney pulled Mitchel aside one day and showed him a few of her single friends, offering to introduce them to him. He declined in the most polite way possible, telling her that he just wasn't ready to move on. 

After Molly's birthday, Mitchel couldn't seem to clear his head, and unpleasant thoughts about his best friend and life would creep their way into his mind. He tried to push them away during the day, but he couldn't escape them during restless nights when everyone was asleep, and he had no one but himself. 

Eventually Mitchel started to take sleeping pills in order to get rest, but then the dreams came. The worst part about them was that he couldn't wake himself up from them, and he'd be forced to witness the treacheries that occurred in his subconsciousness.  They made him sweat and cry in his sleep, and he'd wake up even more tired than he was the night before. Day or night, it didn't matter. He couldn't escape his mind. 

Dark circles formed under his eyes, and he'd wake up with bruises and scratches all over his body. Sometimes he'd see things that weren't even there. Mitchel stopped taking the pills when Christian brought the wounds up. He knew they were unattractive, and he already felt ugly enough. And then there he was, back to square one. 

So Mitchel busied himself. He listened to music while he cleaned at night. At first, Clinton complained about the noise he made. "I need this, Clinton," He said after he protested. "Please. Can't you understand?" Clinton looked at him for a long time and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Sorry," He said, and then that was it.  

And he worked on his song. He fixed up the audio and worked on the vocals. He never shared it, he only listened to Red Blood on his own. It would still play in his head, but it no longer bothered him. Red Blood was him, and it was his. Red Blood was his thoughts and his feelings; it was the essence of the Mitchel that no one but him knew. 

If Mitchel was not cleaning or fixing his song, he was in his room, looking out of the window. A mother bird had built a nest on the exterior of his wondowsil. It sat on it's eggs when it wasn't looking for food. That's why the chirping was so loud. She woke Mitchel up early in the morning, but he didn't mind. He was an early riser anyway. 

And during the day, when Mitchel had no plans and his bandmates were out with their girls, he went to the park and went on walks. Really, he did whatever he could to busy himself. Sometimes he would run into Molly because she lived near their house. She'd be walking her sister's dog or going on a run. A few times, she invited Mitchel to her place, but he'd just turn her down and continue his walk. She was probably only being polite anyway. And Mitchel couldn't stand to be in the vacinity of her. She was kind, she was sweet, but she was everything that he couldn't be. Mitchel hated and envied her, but he was always polite and kind. He'd buy her a bottle of water, or pet her dog. Because that's what you do. You keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.