Chapter Text
The first thing that Ches noticed while lowering himself from the windowsill was the crunching of glass. The second was the deathly stillness of the residence. He had always known the home to be bustling with the idle machinations of teenage boys and handy wives, and the dichotomy made his ears ring. A low whistle sang between his teeth involuntarily as he sighed, shutting the window behind him, attempting to mindfully dodge the fragments of picture frames underfoot. He was more familiar than he wanted to be with shoes falling apart, and he wasn’t wasn’t interested in hastening that process on his loafers. He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on the pale rectangular shapes and empty nails on the walls, however.
He tried not to be too frustrated with the fact that he was only clued into the conflict during a conjugal visit with Anna. An offhand comment on the fact he hadn’t noticed any lights on in the residence for a week or so led to her looking at him like he was the stupidest man she’d ever met, a sentiment only partially hindered by her present state of undress. The family had experienced a major falling out weeks ago, and Anna had helped arrange alternative housing for Vicky and the kids. Meaning Glam alone sat within the building. Ches wasn’t sure the other man had been alone for longer than a day or so since they first met.
Ches wasn’t particularly surprised that tensions had finally boiled over. Dee had visited his shop more than once to burn off steam away from the rest of his family, tears threatening to spill over his lashes. Ches pretended not to recognize the grimace stretched over his face, that look of inadequacy and fear that only a parents’ spite can bring. Those nights, he tended to clamber through the window and visit Glam, searching that vacant, seemingly pleasant expression for any amount of regret. He never saw it. Vicky never supplied any input that implied her awareness of the issue. That couldn’t’ve lasted, of course. He always knew that. He just had hoped it would resolve itself cleaner than it evidently had.
Clothing and linens were tossed over any reflective surface in the hallway that led to the office. Family photos, exposed to the elements as their protective frames cracked and shattered upon evident impact with the ground, sat staring blankly up towards the ceiling. Posters were shredded haphazardly and lined the hardwood like so much confetti. Ches reached his hand and pointlessly jiggled the doorknob to Glam’s office–it was locked. He hardly blinked before pulling out a card from his wallet and wiggling it into the crack between the door frame and handle, bypassing the latch like it was second nature. Truthfully, it was. This was hardly the first time he’d let himself into Glam’s office, and they both knew it.
The room was dark, as it so often was. Uncharacteristically, the desk lamp wasn’t on, and if he hadn’t known better, Ches would think the room was empty. He leaned against the doorframe easily, clearing his throat. It would take a while for his eyes to adjust enough to confirm his suspicions, but he knew Glam well enough to bypass silly things like the confirmation of his senses.
“Hey, Glam,” He said, easily. His voice broke the silence of the house like a knife shredding through paper.
“Hello, Ches,” Glam supplied in his usual chipper tone. Ches didn’t bother analyzing it for any sign of abnormality. He was masked again, any tumultuous feelings buried. That much was obvious. He could tell all he needed to know from the piecemeal leftovers of his meltdown, anyways.
“Man, it’s dark in here, huh? Really, the whole house. I was beginning to think you moved away without telling me.”
Glam simply provided a pleasant hum. Ches could hear his clothes shuffle as he sat up straighter in his desk chair.
Ches’ eyes were adjusting slowly, and he caught the whites of Glam’s. He darted his gaze around Glam’s outline. His characteristic eye makeup was smeared down his cheeks from tear, but his eyes remained outlined by deep eyebags. Ches was distantly reminded of their teenage years. He took a step forward, feeling his feet crunch discarded vinyls.
Ches darted his eyes to Glam’s arms and was discomforted to see his wristband discarded. His old scars were inflamed and joined by new markings. The skin was vivid red all over, occasionally spattered with splotchy dark bruising and peeled skin. Ches was only vaguely reassured by the fact the blood was beginning to go tacky and dark. The offending weapon sat innocently on the desk, hidden by shadow, but hints of blood reflected off it ominously.
“Are we gonna talk about it, or should I make myself at home?”
Ches took the resulting silence as an answer and turned on his heel to grab supplies.
