#maybe he can split his helm open to reveal a secret mouth....

[lmadsadness]

well well who are these horrendous divas?

yeah i turned your one optic man and your single father of cassette children into whatever the hell these little shits are. Artistic creativity amright?

[kneamet]

Delusion (3/5)

Trigger Warning: alcohol, drugs

Summary: she was the only girl in his band whose singing he loved so much. She was the person he truly respected. Andy Miles was someone Hank Williams had an unrelenting obsession with.

Chapter three: The house

POV Andy

Andy didn't like cleaning. It wasn't that she didn't like it, it wasn't the least favorite thing to do. Why clean up at all if you're already littering up? It's such a pain in the ass. Not that her home was a complete mess, as Miles would have called it a creative approach to what she loved. It was easier to concentrate on the rhyme when everything was out of place.

Otherwise, she would have noticed that something was standing unevenly or even out of place. Therefore, she did not bother much with the order, trying to do music in her free time, as much as possible, and not cleaning.

It is better to do what you love than to miss the rush of inspiration, which can go away as suddenly as it appeared. Inspiration is one of the most difficult feelings, which is incredibly difficult to achieve. It can be both fleeting and haunt you for a long time.

Andy sighed, shaking her head and feeling her eyes begin to close. She wanted to lie down on the bed and go to sleep, but she knew she couldn't do that, because Don would be arriving soon. And why today? Why on a day when she didn't get enough sleep?

The first eye twitched and she closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, trying to give them a little respite and let them enjoy the pleasant darkness. Clenching her fist so that it was slightly white, Andy opened her eyes, trying to find the jar with her eyes.

His eyes immediately caught on a small wooden table in the middle of the room, on which stood a small, yellow-wrapped, battered jar, the label of which had long since been erased, which was surprising. It was bought not so long ago. Only a week ago.

Her lower jaw began to tremble slightly, and Andy stood up quickly, trying not to fall and swallowing the pills as quickly as possible. They worked very well, giving her an influx of inspiration. After them, you immediately felt that you were omnipotent and could move mountains.

"Fuck”.

Opening the white lid and shifting it to her other hand, Andy swallowed when she found only two pills there. Her hand trembled, and she realized that this should be enough. Maybe for a day or two, but then she'd have to buy a supply of new ones, since she wasn't sure if she really had any jars left on the kitchen shelves.

Putting the small white pills in her mouth, Andy, feeling a great need for them, immediately swallowed them. Her hands stopped shaking, and a bitter taste was sharply felt in her throat, which was not the most pleasant effect and it was better to wash down the pill with something sweet to kill the taste.

Miles, unable to find anything sweet and healthy, and too lazy to go for water, turned her attention to the half-finished bottle of beer and reached for it. Presenting it, the girl's nose immediately caught the yeast smell and she gulped down the remaining drink. The taste made itself felt: there was a sweetness in her throat.

Suddenly, a signal sounded from the window, which was unpleasant to hear on a slightly drunk head.

***

My head was splitting with pain, but these were the first stages of what is usually present after taking the pills. The second stage was that the stomach began to ache with an indefinable pain, but soon it faded and it subsided. The mind was completely cleared of obsessive thoughts and was in full sanity.

With a jerk of her hand, she grabbed her temple, pressing it lightly with her middle finger, as if trying to find a point of pain and calm it down. Or at least make it a little nicer. Although it was possible to get used to this for a long time, or at least just take the pain for granted in order to get the desired effect of inspiration in the future, but with each new time, Andy's mind simply wished that these pills were taken.

Andy inhaled deeply and smelled the smoke-filled smell. The smell of the car mingled with the Camel cigarettes that Don loved so much for their surprisingly mild taste. Although Miles didn't particularly like them, preferring Chesterfield more because of their cheapness and tart taste after smoking a cigarette. The tobacco left a slight bitterness.

She shivered, pressing her lips into a thin line, feeling the second temple begin to ache with exactly the same negative pain and a weightless thud echoing in the back of her brain.

She rubbed her fingers over her temples, trying to stop the sickness, and closed her eyes. She needed to focus on something else. Something that would help her control her thoughts.

"Don, Andy, how are you?" an eerily familiar voice that carried only concern was heard, and a smile appeared on the girl's face. Hank.

She raised her head, seeing the intent gaze fixed on her. Miles nodded her head at him, as if to let him know that she was doing great, and that she was basking in joy. Although it may not have been visible from the outside, but a smile soaked in fake was on Andy's face. She didn't want anyone to worry about her. I've already experienced such moments in my life, stop being a mumbler.

"Not bad," Don chuckled, turning his head to look at Hank, who was getting into the backseat next to Andy. The girl raised an eyebrow, biting her lower lip and pulling a small piece of skin off with her teeth. Leaning back against the chair, Andi straightened her back and focused her gaze on the beige roof panel.

"I'm fine, too," she muttered, watching in her peripheral vision as Williams shook Don's hand and he started the car. Blinking, Andy has a quick thought that Hank is acting extremely suspicious, but it disappears from his mind just as it appears. It's just her imagination under the drugs, nothing more.

The car begins to itch with a slight tremor and soon starts moving. Andy looks at the road, making sure it's a comfortable ride or a rolling one.

"Where are you going to live, buddy?" Helms 'voice rings out, and Miles' eyes flick to the boy. She raises an eyebrow, and Hank gives her a hard, doubtful look. Shouldn't he and Audrey have shared out the budget and what went to whom? Wasn't their divorce finalized yet?

There was a gasp from Williams.

"I think l'll have to stay in a cheap hotel. I don't have much money right now," he ran a hand through his dark, greasy hair, pulling it back a little. It was as if his thoughts were far away and he didn't want to talk about it.

"What about Audrey?"

"She's just fine," the doubt and uncertainty seeping out of the guy's voice was understandable. It was obvious that he was trying to hide it. And Andy didn't particularly like it.

Miles pursed her lips, closing her eyes and carefully trying to control the thoughts that were racing through her mind at an unbearable speed. Hank needed help, though he carefully denied it and decried any such attention to himself.

Her headache had subsided, and now she could think straight, except for the fact that in a couple of minutes her stomach would also be hurting, but that was nothing. Right now, Hank needed help. He needed to show her what Andy hadn't given him last time. She won't screw up this time.

"Your pupils are dilated," a voice said, and the girl didn't even notice how intently she was looking at the guy. Blinking, his vision was back to normal. "Is everything all right?"

She couldn't help but smile. She liked Hank's concern for her. She needed it, feeling completely at ease after being given attention and support. He was the person who really paid attention to her condition and sympathy.

Miles was sure that as soon as she fell ill and lay down with the disease, Williams would immediately put everything aside and rush to her aid, trying to recover from the pain. And such care on the part of the guy she was terribly flattered.

***

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" Hank was lightly touching Miles ' bruised arm, where a bottle had broken on stage, scratching her arm and leaving her with no money in her pocket to finish the "performance" at a local bar.

Biting her lip between her teeth, Miles nodded to the air, noticing how quickly the guy reacted to this, trying to touch her skin even more gently and weightlessly.

"It'll do."

"You shouldn't have been drinking today..." he muttered, shaking his head and continuing to touch the cotton wool that was soaked in the alcohol solution.

Andy's brow furrowed. Since when does Hank regret the past? That doesn't sound like him. He lives in the present day and certainly rarely remembers the past.

"Really, who do you think offered me alcohol?" raises an eyebrow Miles. The tone of her voice was very sarcastic. It was evident that she was beginning to laugh at her friend.

***

"Never mind," Andy waved away the question Williams had asked a few seconds ago. Admitting to him that she was using would make her life even more hectic. The care was pleasant, but only in moderation. She didn't want him prying into her drug-and alcohol-related personal life.

It is better to let him remain in happy ignorance than in the treacherous truth. To reveal a secret that she had kept with a loved one since childhood would be wrong on her part, because otherwise what would be the point of hiding it?

The car was twitching slightly. The suspensions were loose, which was especially noticeable in the rear seats, distracting from thoughts.

Seeing that Hank didn't really believe her light, superficial lie, he only gave her a quick, serious look, which was completely out of keeping with his temperament.

"You're staying with me tonight," Interrupting the subject and recalling the previous conversation, Andy looked back at Hank, nodding at him. He was looking at her with a look that clearly wondered why she would think that.

Miles wanted to thank him. She had not felt such affection and awe towards herself for a long time, so every time she felt a manifestation of love, she succumbed to her feelings and she wanted to show that she was addressing a person with the same care.

***

Miles hoped that the guy wouldn't notice the mess that accompanied her house in all the rooms. Although how can you not notice that all over the living room are scattered sketches of songs and crumpled pieces of paper that would be easier to throw away.

However, Andy still didn't touch anything, because very often it happened that she found rhyme and the right sensual lines that would take your breath away, to other lines written on different pieces of paper.

"Don't pay attention to the mess," Andy advised, pursing her lips as Hank's eyes scanned the living room. Andy sighed. No, he had to look in the place where it was dirty and not cleaned up.

Williams raised his eyebrows, gripping his dark suitcase in his right hand and swallowing, turned his attention to the girl, opening his mouth slightly.

"Where can I stay?" He scratched his head, tilting it towards the living room, hinting that he would stay in the living room. This was not such a bad decision, as long as he did not touch anything and did not disturb the creative mess.

"I only have one bedroom," Andy hesitated, nodding toward the living room. She could have given him a place in her bedroom and taken the living room herself, which would have been very decent, but it would have been impossible to sleep on this sofa in the living room, since it was quite hard. "You can sleep there, and I'll sleep in the living room until you can find a place to live in," or until he and Audrey make up.

She knew that the subject of Audrey, a painful subject, was not worth mentioning at all, and it was better to keep quiet about it. Miles knew that they would make up sooner or later, but lately, with the current circumstances, those feelings were disappearing and thoughts of reconciliation were disappearing.

Audrey and Hank were a really good couple, but their quarrels were outrageous. This is what destroyed what they were creating. It ruined their marriage, which was held together by thin threads, ready to break up at any second.

Andy blinked, then turned her attention back to Hank, who seemed to be saying something. His voice seemed blurred in her thoughts. And apparently realizing that the first time he was not listened to, he repeated:

"Are you sure I won't push you?"

His smile was pleasant, and she knew that Hank had agreed to her terms.

In fact, her house was really her very large size. We were happy with what we had enough money for, but sometimes it was really very cramped to live here, even alone, what can we say about two people. How do people get a couple, living in such unpleasant conditions? Andy would never understand them, she was sure.

"I'll sleep on the couch for now, but you can still take my room. I'll make room for you," the girl muttered as she brushed past her friend and opened the white door to her bedroom. It's not the first time she's slept in a different bed. “In the meantime, look around the house."