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The night had started long ago, the dimmed light of the closed bar enlightening his drinks. Husk mumbled as he took a sip. He closed the bar today, well for the third night in a row, he wasn't feeling it. He hasn't been feeling it.
It wasn't right, nothing was right.
He was sitting behind the counter, opposite to Angel's stool. He look at the empty seat in front of him. Without him the bar, even fully filled, felt deserted. He missed him. He missed the constant weird commentaries, the nagging, the venting they exchanged, the moments passed with him. He missed how he cared. His ears lowered themselves, he sighed and look at the empty glass in his hand. The bar lights making the glass shine between his fingers. He extend an arm taking the bottle he opened an hour ago, just to find it dry, empty.
It's been his third bottle of the night. Drowning in them, making him forget. Forget how a mess he became. He lost his footing getting up his seat, trying to reach for the fourth and maybe the fifth. He wobbled, head spinning, taking a hold on the counter trying to stay upright.
He was sick.
He felt sick.
He felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy from drowning in thoughts of everything; of the day everything went wrong. He tried not to vomit, the bile burning in his throat.
It was probably the alcohol.
It was the alcohol.
Was it?
The bile in his throat got stuck. He tried to breathe but couldn't. He dropped on his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks. He was shaking. He missed him.
Him. The memories, his everything. He missed the friend, the crush. He mourned the love he never had confessed.
A choked sob escape his mouth as he sat on the floor. His back against the wood counter. His vision blurred as his mind spiraled in an endless loop.
'h.. '
'h..sk'
'Husk!'
He heard, the soothing voice of someone repeatedly calling him. The sound of the voice, felt familiar to him, painfully so. The worries in the voice made him feel weak.
"An.. Angie?", the demon whimpered, broken hope drowning in his voice.
He saw a blurred silhouette looking at him, a few feet away. He couldn't see well, couldn't make the details. The pink form approached him in a slow worried step. Husked reached an arm to this vision of the past, wanting him to stay, wanting it to be real.
Oh, how he wished it was real. To touch him, to feel him, to be with him again. How he prayed, for this escape, just to see him once again.
"Don.. don't leave.. please..", he begged his voice cracking in pain.
He was scared. Terrified even. He didn't want to let go, he wanted him to stay, here, forever.
'don't be silly now whiskers..', the soft sound of the voice said, a hint of sadness behind it.
As the form was close enough to touch, his arm passed right through the ghost of his old friend. Crush. Love. The figure smile at him sadly, as it cups the cat head in its ghostly hands.
The emptiness of the touch was a pit in his stomach. Oh, how he dreamed to be comforted like this, to be touched like this, how he longed to be by his love.
The emptiness of the touch made him feel the agony of loneliness. The freezing hand of sadness, that trap you in madness. Never to let you see the light of day.
'Husk you need to stop.', the ghost scorn him, giving him a worried glance. His hand failing to dry his tears. 'I wouldn't want to see you like this..', it tried to reason with him.
Husk look at this ghost standing before him. A trick from his brain. A way to forget the pain. He should be mad, mad at Angel for leaving, mad at himself to not have been there to stop him. He should be furious on how he didn't even try to run after him, to get him back. He let out a shaky breath, looking at the vision in front of him.
He cried, he let out sobs in the arms of the ghost. Clinging to any imaginary comfort it could provide, holding onto the thoughts that a loser like him deserved it. He was clenching on the non-existent clothes of the silhouette, as he mumble a simple, "sorry.".
He watched as his vision unblurred, the silhouette of his love disspiate in the air. Giving him the care of one last smile. Leaving him alone with the memory of this alcohol induced hallucination. He hold in a sob as he try to pull himself up.
He look at the mess he made, bottles open and dry. A bottle shattered on the ground, at his feets. He sighed, what a mess he made.
He took his forgotten glass, ignoring the calls of the bottles behind him. He walked toward the sink, washing his glass clean.
Finishing cleaning the glass he felt a soft pressure on his leg. Surprised, he let out a small scream escape his lips. He looked down and see the pig Angel adored so much.
It was looking around, looking for a meal perhaps, or maybe his missing person. Like he was. Husk let out a soft smile as he took FatNugget in his arms.
"Don't worry Nuggets, your owner will be back soon.. ", he comfort the poor pigs, as he made a promise to himself to make it true.
He slowly deposit the pig on the counter giving him food. The presence of little pig comforted him, it was a piece of his friend. It was a piece he knew, Angel couldn't left behind.
The pig was Angel's everything, his confident, his consolent a friend he never had at the Vees.
He wouldn't have left FatNugget to them if he didn't think of coming back. Husk was sure of it. Certain even. When he comes back, he'll make him stay, with him, with them. He'll protect him.
He put the bottles away, cleaning up the mess he left. Keeping an eye on the pig making sure he didn't hurt himself. When he clean, he couldn't help but take glances at the seat across his.
The stool was empty and lonely, he smiled at the thought of the seat finding his rightful owner soon.
Surely, after all the mess, after his return, after the reunion. When he will look at his eyes on the other side of the bar, when they will talk like they did before. When their days comes back to normal. Surely, maybe then, he will be able to finally says;
"I love you.".