Title: Craving Normality to Some Degree
Summary: They just craved the silence, to sing for themselves and not what is expected of them but it’s kind of hard to do when you’re famous.
Third Point of View
Bog woke to the sounds of muttered curses and the familiar shatter of a guitar. He shot up from his bed in panic before groaning and flopping back down, his hand flying to his mouth in the next as bile burned at the back of his throat.
It took a moment for the urge to throw up settled and the pounding in his head was back to the forefront of his mind to gingerly rise from his bed.
Sweet skies he felt like shite…
He hadn’t drank that much since Cara left him and Bog remembers why that was, he hated fucking hangovers and it made him a bitter asshole with the brain function of a zombie until he got at least five cups of coffee, a cold shower and a full breakfast into him. Not necessarily in that order.
His mouth tasted disgusting, like he had been licking every feral thing he came across while eating dust.
“Son of a bitch!” A voice screamed, following the sound of another item shattering against metal.
Bog frowned and paused at his window on his way to the bathroom and caught the sight of Marianne still in the clothes she was dressed in last night with two boxes of stuff behind her and a roaring bonfire before her.
After the song she had sung they drank a little more before catching a cab home, both of them laughing all the way. She had given him a quick side embrace and thanked him for the entertainment before stumbling towards her front door. He himself stumbled to his own home stunned at the random embrace and practically tripped and crawled all the way upstairs before falling into bed.
“AHH!” The scream tore bog from his memories and his heart leapt to his throat as he saw Marianne grasp her wrist painfully as blood pooled over her hand.
Without thinking Bog turned on his foot and raced down the stairs in panic and bound over the fence that connected their yard to his. His tore off his shirt and pressed it to the wound on her arm frantically. “Are you alright?”
Marianne blinked at the sudden appearance of Bog, her mouth opening to reply before freezing as her eyes took in his lean frame. Oh, Bog may be lean but under those tee-shirts and jackets of his he was all muscle. She could see the way his muscles rolled as he pressed the shirt into her arm, leaning over to take a peek at it.
Next was the ink, he had a crisscross of Celtic knots across his arms that intertwined with Primroses and as he leant back to look at her she caught the dragonfly wings and a wrought metal design across his heart.
“Marianne?” Bog asked with a concerned frown before looking down and blushing as he realised what he had done. “Ah… Ah’m sorry. Ah clocked th’ blood ‘n’ ah panicked.”
“Oh… sorry… sorry you took me by surprise. I’m fine I was just… I wasn’t careful enough and one of the shattered splinters flung up and got my arm.” She replied her eyes averting from his flamed cheeks that matched his own.
Bog cleared his throat awkwardly and pulled the shirt away from the wound, the bleeding looked to be slowing down and he could see it was a shallow cut so it wouldn’t need stitches which was good because in his opinion stitches there sucked.
“It’s just a mild cut, if ye hae a First-Aid kit ah kin wash ‘n’ wrap it fur ye.” He explained, missing the way Marianne was staring at him in wonder.
“Uhm, I’m not sure if there is one or not to be honest.” Marianne replied with a frown, shaking away the surprise at how thick his brogue actually was and at how endearing she found it.
“Ah got one, if ye wait ‘ere ah’ll go git it fur ye.” He offered while grasping Marianne’s free hand and pressed it over his own before slipping it out from under hers. “Just hold that till ah git back.”
Before she could say another word Bog quickly climbed over the fence and rushed back inside, waving off his mother as she inquired what he was doing and grabbed the first aid. He shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth quickly on his way back through the kitchen and thanked his mam before hopping back over the fence awkwardly. He really should have walked around but this was quicker.
“You don’t have to do this Bog.” Marianne explained as she watched the man who had reflected her own inner pain, tenderly clean and dress her wound.
“Aye I know, but it’s easier if ah dae it. Ah saw ye were right handed last night ‘n’ I know that dressing wounds wi’ ye non-dominant hand is a bugger tae dae.” He explained while pulling out the disinfectant wipes.
They sat in silence as Bog finished cleaning and dressing the wound before casting a look at the boxes. “Kin ye tell me how come you’re breaking ‘n’ burnin’ all this? That’s if ye don’t mynd, ye don’t hae tae o’coorse but…
Marianne chuckled and held up her hand to still Bog’s stammering. “It’s fine, I don’t mind you already know anyways.”
It was true too, she had told him last night why she was here. She didn’t go into full detail though about who she was or who her fiancé was to be exact but he knew the big detail of why.
“Today’s my wedding day.” She started watching as blue eyes shot to hers. “Well it was supposed to be anyways. My sister sent me all the things that bastard had bought and left at our place with a note she thought I would like to destroy them. My sister is my sunshine; she knows how to cheer me up.”
Bog’s brows disappeared into his hairline as he turned his attention back to the items left and then the items in the fire. They were expensive, he could see two Acoustic Fenders already smashed and burning away in the fire and a customized Yamaha FG830 sitting to the left of them.
What was left in the boxes were little trinkets of some kind and he could see albums already in the fire.
“Would ye like some help?” He asked after a few short moments. “Normally ah don’t condone breaking good instruments but I’ll give ye an exception this time.”
The smile Marianne gave him in return knocked the breath from his lungs; she seemed to shine with malicious glee at his offer. Her amber coloured eyes burned brighter from the dark smudges of her make-up and her smile was all teeth. It made her look like a dark Fae, cunning and beautiful. Bog couldn’t help but swallow as he watched her grab the guitar and held it out for him to take.
His fingers curled around the neck, brushing against her own and his heart fluttered.
Oh… oh no. oh no…
Author Note: Poor, poor Bog… Sorry for the long delay to update! I was getting my first book ready to publish and that took my attention.