This story was requested by @Power_Age.
*clank*
Two beer bottles stood on the floor next to a hamper overflowing with dirty laundry. A third just joined them. When the shaky hand that set it down felt the absence it instinctively reached for another. But stopped.
This wouldn't bring him back.
What would drinking do besides bring on a headache to add more pain to his already broken heart?
But still...they tasted good.
Malcolm stood up from the floor and looked around him. His room was a mess. Yesterday's clothes hanging on the dresser, a couple records scattered on the floor, a few tear-stained tabloids and a broken watch. He scraped up the clothes and dumped them on the ever growing pile in the hamper and tossed the records on a shelf. The tabloids were nothing but complete rubbish and he crumpled them up without reading them again.
"Mal?"
Malcolm looked up. Linda stood there in the doorway with a mug in her hand. "Yeah?"
"I've made you tea...if you're up for it."
Malcolm balled the papers in one hand and ran the other through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks."
Linda handed him the mug and looked around their bedroom. "I see you've been cleaning up."
Taking a few sips, Malcolm sat on the bed. "A bit."
"Maybe I ought to get the laundry done, or we won't have anything to wear." Linda made to grab the hamper but Malcolm shook his head.
"You did it last week, I'll get it this time." The crumpled paper was still in his hand. Linda wasn't long in noticing it.
"Can I take that for you, Mal?"
"Hmm? Oh..." Malcolm stared at the illegible print and black and white photo corners. It had been a week since it happened. One of his own family. Freezing temperatures, the middle of the night...and completely alone. What a fucking way...
"Mal?"
In one instant the ball of paper flew across the room and hit the wall. It rolled under a chair and stayed there in the shadows. Linda took a seat on the bed next to him. Feeling her arm drape over his shoulders he turned his face away and brought a hand to his eyes. "I'm alright, darlin', sorry about that." He cleared his throat and drank his tea.
"You feel cold, Malcolm."
"Yeah well..." He sniffed. "It's two fuckin' degrees outside." They both sat there for a while wrapped in each other's company. The light was on while the sun went down outside. Malcolm shivered. All the tea in the world couldn't warm up a soul in London's February. Taking a quick glance at his wife he saw Linda staring blankly at the bottles on the floor. He waited for her to call him out on it but she stayed silent, leaning her head on his shoulder and rubbing his back. "You need help with dinner or...anythin'?"
"No, I've just boiled some soup." He nodded and took another drink. "I miss him too."
"Who?" Linda looked at him. "Oh. Yeah. Course, he's a swell guy, ya' know. Probably would have told me off for sulkin' in here all day, ya' know? Don't sob over me, what's that gonna do?" Linda carefully wiped her eye with her finger. "Don't cry so much when you play, you'll electrocute yourself or somethin'."
"He wouldn't have said all that."
Malcolm ran his hand through Linda's brown hair. "Hm. Maybe not."
The two were quiet for a while.
