Chapter 48

 

New Year’s Eve morning, Dorian arrived in the room where the housemates painted to discover Crispin staring into a blank canvas. This was not in itself unusual except for the fact that the forlorn Goth had been staring at that same blank canvas with that same blank expression on his face for two days straight.

Coming to stand beside him, Dorian glanced back and forth between Crispin and the canvas. “What’s up, Crisp?”

As though waking from a trance with much reluctance, Crispin let out a heavy sigh and walked towards the window, facing the front yard.

“As it would appear, nothing much.”

“Come on, Crisp, they’ll be back soon enough,” Dorian said with a smile.

Crispin may deny it all he wanted but everyone knew how fond he was of his little dormouse. As much as he liked to pretend he was untouchable, he was in fact, the opposite.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Crispin asked with a frown.

“Becky, your little dormouse. Go on, admit it. The separation anxiety must be draining you of all your creative juices.”

“Piss off, Dorian. What do you know about it?” Crispin scowled. “As far I’m concerned, we’re better off without that silly little squeak of a girl running around underfoot.”

“Right…” So much for the holiday spirit.

Apparently all good cheer had left the House of Goths, the moment Kell and Becky went off on their getaway.

“You say that now, but watch it or it may just happen.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Crispin visibly blanched a shade paler, as impossible as it seemed.

“See?” Dorian teased, turning his attention to his latest sketch. “You do miss her.”

“Fuck off, you,” Crispin snarked, realizing he had been caught. Dorian, the smart ass that he was. As fond as Crispin was of the quick-witted drummer, his unrelenting good mood, sometimes wore at his patience.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dorian asked when Crispin turned and stormed off.

“Away from here,” Crispin muttered, reaching for his car keys, nearly crashing into Keegan. The sleepy Goth had just stepped down from his recently reclaimed bedroom.

“What the… watch it, man!”

“Never mind him,” Dorian said.

“What’s his dilemma? Is he still messed up over Gracie?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Although I’m sure it doesn’t help.”

“Then what?”

“One can only guess. I suppose he’s in a huff again this morning.”

“Again? He’s a moody bastard, I’ll give you that, but he usually comes around. This last little while, though, I don’t know…”

“He’s missing Becky. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“I miss her too, and so do you, but we’re not losing our shit like he is, are we?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“She is coming back, Becky and Kell. They both are. They still live here,” Keegan reasoned.

“Yes, but Crispin’s different. You know how he is. He gets attached to people he cares about. He has difficulty keeping things in perspective.”

“True, he hasn’t quite forgiven me for taking off. I suppose he might never.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect him to.”

“Damn…”

“Yes,” Dorian said, leaving Keegan to his conscience.