Who: Piper What: Narrative: Stream of consciousness Where: Inside R1 When: After this, but before going down to see Anne. Warnings: Language
Piper shut his cellphone off, and he shoved it into the jeans he was wearing.
Daniel's clothing was too loose on him, and the jeans gaped at the hip, while the sweatshirt did the same at his shoulders. His feet were bare, and he easily made his way through the living room - the second home already feeling familiar and safe to him.
He'd taken over the couch since he'd emerged from the room after punching Daniel, and he'd done his best to remain occupied since. He didn't want to think about what had happened in the alley, wasn't ready to consider all the realities that came with it. So, he'd cleaned and straightened and made a general nuisance of himself.
In the absence of music, it was his best way of coping.
Daniel, he knew, was outside with Jane. He didn't know what had happened there, but the anonymous post led him to believe that Daniel slept with Little Red Riding Hood. How the hell he'd managed that, Piper had no clue. For someone who never left their apartment, Daniel sure managed to 'get some' on a pretty regular basis.
In truth, Piper didn't care who Daniel slept with if they made the dark circles under his eyes disappear. Somehow, he thought this talk with Jane was going to have exactly the opposite effect. And Piper, Piper wasn't very happy with Jane right now in general. Life wasn't a fucking book, and she needed to wise up and realize her actions could make things severely worse for Daniel - inside Daniel's head. Hell, even he knew that, and he hadn't fucking slept with the man.
And then there was Anne. No, not Anne, Trenton.
Piper had no idea how to deal with that asshole. Much like he'd never encountered anyone like Daniel, he'd never met anyone like Trenton. Unlike Daniel, however, Trenton wasn't going to give Piper the chance to learn to read him like sheet music. The result was that Trenton looked smooth and suave around Anne, while he, Piper, looked like a neurotic asshole.
He'd meant to talk to Daniel about it, to ask advice, but burdening Daniel with his own shit, it was something Piper had a lot of trouble doing. In fact, if he hadn't been so scared of the cops knocking on his door, Piper wouldn't be in Daniel's apartment right now. Period.
Scared.
Piper had one run in with the law when he was younger. His friend - the only one he'd really had in high school - was a young deaf-mute name Eldon. Last he'd checked, Eldon was happily living in a commune in Arizona, but the bullies that gave Eldon shit at school, well, they hadn't been so lucky. Piper hadn't been directly responsible for anything, and he'd been cleared of any charges, but he'd played the good cop/bad cop game. He didn't have any interest in another round. Especially these days, when he couldn't trust his ability.
He swallowed thickly. That's another thing he didn't want to think about.
Piper had been able to control people with a smile and a wink since he'd stepped foot out of his parents' home at the age of five. Here, in this place, that didn't seem to work (outside of romantic situations), and it left Piper not knowing how to deal with anything. It was something he ignored, the way that made him feel, because his problems were like a speck in the ocean compared to Daniel's - and really, who the fuck else would he talk to about this shit?
So, he shoved all that fear into his flute and his song, but he didn't have that right now. And he hid in an empty apartment devoid of noise, but he didn't have that either. And it was all so close to the surface, about to bubble over.
He went to the sliding glass door, ensuring Daniel was still outside. He could hear Jane crying, and he groaned to himself. This was not going to be a good night.
A turn, and he was at the door to the apartment, his hand on the doorknob. A hesitation. he couldn't bring himself to turn it. He tried again, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. In his head, he heard the sound of blood spurting from the dead man's neck, the sound as crystal clear as the music that normally accompanied his thoughts. It was like a track had been rewound, and every sound from that night in the alley came flooding back.
His fingers were shaking on the doorknob, and his breath was shallow and jagged.
Fear was not something Piper was familiar with. Not this sort of mind-numbing fear. Not for himself, at least. In Piper's mind, up until that very moment - no, up until the alley...
That night...
It was an admission he made to himself.
He'd thought he was going to die that night.
His knees buckled, and only his hand on the doorknob kept him upright, a choked sob escaping from him.