Hugo raised an eyebrow, his nose wrinkling slightly. “…Whatever. They’re your hands ’n shit, I guess.”
Danny shrugged, turning on the faucet. He all but stuck his head underneath it, trying to dampen his hair without using the shower or tub. “Hand me the brush?” He held out a hand expectantly.
He and his mother stood like that for a while, quiet, with their arms wrapped around each other. Finally, Alex took a deep breath, pulling away. "I'm so sorry."
Danny brushed the water through his hair, quickly toweling it off. “Time check? I don’t know if I wanna do this the fun way or the right way.” He poured a little bit of the dye into a bowl, already stirring it up. “But I think I want the fun way.”
Hugo sighed, taking the bowl from Danny’s hands. “You physically can’t do it the right way anyways, idiot. I’ve seen you try.”
"You have nothing to be sorry for. It isn't your fault." His mother said softly.
“Aw, kiss my ass!” Danny laughed, shaking the excess water off of his hair like a dog. “You gonna help or not?”
He shrugged. "I was trying to find…" he had been trying to find a cure. A way to fix this. But he couldn't.
Hugo shrugged, stirring up the dye once more. “Sure. You mind sitting still? I’ll help with the back, but you can handle the rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Danny let Hugo begin to paint the dye on, recoiling a bit at the feeling. “I have like.. three hours before I gotta go.”
"I know you were. But…maybe there just isn't one." His mother said softly.
"No. I won't believe that." Alex replied. "I won't. There has to be a way to fix me. To fix dad."
“Three fucking hours. Alright, sure.” Hugo rolled his eyes, trying to get the dye as even as he could.
Danny tittered, picking at his nails. “Haha, yeah... I should be fine, though.”
"Alex… everyone in the family has looked for a way. For generations. You need to… you need to face the fact that there might not be a cure." She said quietly, cupping his chin in one hand.
He clenched his jaw. "No." He growled. "No fucking way is there no damn cure."
(I’m just gonna ts to Danny with his hair dyed and all, if that’s alright? don’t feel rushed in your scene lmao, i just feel like i’m dragging my own scene out, and I’m jus going to switch it up a bit)
Danny rinsed out the dye, watching the last murky dregs of black water deep down the shower drain. He sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair and stepping out of the shower, quickly wrapping himself and his hair in towels.
(it's fine! I've actually been thinking that maybe we should just ts to when they meet up at the bar again)
Alex kept speaking with his mother, arguing that there had to be a cure. There had to be. There must be. Because he didn't want to die in his 40's. He couldn't.
(I wouldn’t hate that, lmao)
Danny got dressed, staring at his hair in the bathroom mirror. He dried it off, running his fingers through and sighing quietly. Danny dug in his pocket, pulling out his phone to check the time. Oh, fuck. 6:45.
(lmao should we just skip, then?)
Alex took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. He was heading back to his apartment now, but his eyes still saw only the mark that had climbed up his father's shoulders.
(yeah, sure! should i handle it, or do you want to?)
He tugged on his ragged flannel, picking up his guitar and scurrying out of his apartment. He still had an hour before the set, but setting up was a fucking bitch, especially with only two people to do it.
(alright cool! Can you do it? I gtg for a bit)
(sure thing!)
Danny slipped in through the back door, setting his guitar down on the stage. His bassist, Fraser, was already there, hooking up the amps.
“Sorry I’m late, brother, had some.. shit. I dunno.” Danny grimaced, already beginning to help. He fluffed up his hair, glancing around the smokey bar.
Alex hadn't arrived yet. He was getting dressed, just in a simple t shirt, jacket, and jeans, having taken a shower just earlier.
“Yeah, right.” Fraser rolled his eyes, plopping down on a stool that resting on the barely raised stage. “What’re the plans for tonight? Since Oz is gone ‘n all.”
“Dunno. Play a few covers with one or two originals sprinkled in? I’m just in a Nirvana mood tonight, I dunno.” Danny shrugged, rubbing at the dark crescents stamped under his eyes. “You?”
“That sounds fine, yeh. Take a few requests, maybe.” Fraser tugged at his sleeves, pulling them up to his elbows.
Alex finally did arrive. He knew he was running a little bit early, but he hadn't wanted to just hang around his apartment. If he had he might have started crying about his father again.
Danny and Fraser were chatting away as they set up, although the topic bounced around a bit. Music, then life in general, back to music, that sort of thing. Danny hadn’t noticed Alex come into the bar, too busy tuning up his instrument.
Alex got a drink, and debated whether to go over and talk to Danny or not. He bit his lip. He didn't want to distract Danny.
“How many songs would you say we’re doing tonight? 10? Take a break 5 in?” Danny looked up at his bassist, who absolutely looked like someone you wouldn’t want to fuck with in any circumstances. Shaved head, tatted from the jaw down, the works.
“Sounds fine. Let’s say.. second half is requests?” Fraser grunted, looking out over the crowd.
Alex watched them for a moment, then looked away, taking a small, tiny sip of his drink.
“That’ll do, yeah.” Danny nodded, checking the time on his phone. “Got half an hour, should I try to stay sober till at least the second half?” He grinned, standing up and adjusting his guitar strap.
“It couldn’t hurt. We both know how you are when you’re drunk, and I don’t feel like babysitting a horny toddler.” Fraser stated simply, arms now crossed behind his head.