Nightingale Ch. 01

"Want me to take you home?", he asked.

"I want my wings back," she slurred, staggering from his arms.

Chase stood behind her and caught her again as she almost fell forward.

"I didn't see them, I'm sorry."

Pearl inspected the rope burns on her wrists and smiled warmly at them, then at Chase, immediately forgetting her wings. She paused for a second and attempted to catch her breath, but her eyes carried a glazed-over look of intoxication, exhaustion and bliss that made it quite impossible for her to focus. Her body still swayed erratically from side to side.

Determined not to give up, Pearl summoned what little strength she could and began to stand again; this time, Chase rushed to the rescue and held her upright from behind, realising that her overestimation of herself would inevitably cause even Pearl's shameless personality embarrassment, given enough failed attempts. She began to cough and heave painfully and wave her head around wildly as Chase held her body firmly in position. A few moments later, a large, rancid projectile of vomit burst from her lips and splattered the wall opposite. The circular putrid mess of purple and red sparkled from the bursts of flashing light seeping through the curtain, then began to slide ungracefully down the wall.

"I think we're getting you home."

Pearl coughed throatily once again, wiped her face off with the back of her hand and attempted to regain some dignity.

"Alright, mister hung like a fucking horse that made me puke everywhere."

Chase laughed and rearranged her dress back into position, then sat her on the chair while he redressed. A few moments later, he picked Pearl up in his arms and carried her from behind the curtain back into the club. Only a few looks were cast his way; just as he was about to step through the exit, Pearl waved weakly at Ruby. She was standing in a circle of people, most of them men, holding a plastic cup of pear cider. As Pearl waved, she turned slightly, smirked, waved, shook her head, and turned back to the group.

***

Chase and Pearl sat together on the tram, arm in arm. The bright white lights in the carriage blurred and intertwined with the afterimages of the club and the smell of sex; the cold cacophany of sense and memory was their gently burning reminder in their retinas of the return of the real world and the retreat from the hyperstimulation that the evening had brought. They sat almost motionless and semi-aware in a corner, as far away from the other passengers. Bright red rope burns were clearly visible on Pearl's wrists and ankles, despite Chase's halting attempts to cover them with old newspaper. Blood threatened to trickle from one wrist, held back only by the merest thread of skin. A bruise was visible on each shoulder. From time to time, a passenger stepped onto the tram, looked at them, then turned in the opposite direction.

The passage of time blurred into oblivion. It could have been seconds or days; it had actually been about fifteen minutes before Pearl spotted a landmark, pulled the cord, and seemingly an instant later, stepped from the tram with Chase. Making their way through the darkness and cold night air soothed Pearl's pain, a feeling she greeted with some degree of disappointment. Any attempt by Pearl to reach her apartment without assistance would have been a precarious one, and Chase's conscience demanded that he help, at least to ensure her safety.

As they reached the bright lights and smooth wooden floorboards of Pearl's apartment, having closed the door behind them, Pearl smiled at Chase and kissed him on the lips.

"You're so sweet to me," she said with genuine appreciation.

Chase sighed and gave a resigned smile. "It's fine."

"No, no, all of the things you do are sweet," she replied rapidly, a little of her customary agitation returning already. "If I could... if who I am would let me, I'd want this to be more."

Chase pulled his cap from his jeans and placed it on his badly ruffled head of hair, backwards, as usual, and grinned.

Pearl laughed and moved as if to put her hands on her hips, but instead paused, grimaced, and let her arms fell limply back to her sides. "You're intentionally doing this when I'm too weak to take it off you."

"I'll stick around 'till you can stand again," he promised. "You'll have to deal with the cap, though."

Pearl pouted and sighed dramatically as Chase guided her to the armchair on one side of her lounge room and sat her there.

"Water?" he asked.

"Sure."

This was always how their meetings ended. Chase was never affectionate, but always kind and helpful; Pearl was grateful, but knew better than to try to tame her tempestuous nature to the task of keeping a stable relationship.

Even so, Pearl was always glad to have earned a brief respite from her internal machinations; even if only for hours, the incessant gyrations inside her mind fell silent, leaving an unfamiliar feeling of peace. She did not love Chase--could not love Chase, but she loved the feeling with which he left her more than anything in the world.