Chapter Text
A gentle pluck of a strum fills the room before a violent, sore cough abruptly erupts from the one presence within it. He plays a few more chords before craning his neck towards his room, unravelling the guitar straps that were clinging to him like glue, stepping up from the plaid, woven couch to then paddle onwards to his room. He stepped into the bedroom with a few 'thud's on the carpet before standing in front of the stubby nightstand, eyeing the telephone in contemplation. With a sniffle and a sigh, he untangled it and patted it to his ear, fingers that belonged to his other hand swiftly pushing the buttons with numbers printed on them. The telephone made a repeating 'brr brr' for a couple of seconds which then stopped and suddenly, a coy voice came through from the other end; they had finally answered.
Roddy wavered with hesitancy when he reminded himself mentally to simply just... ask.
"Umm, I need some help..."
-
"Hey, Rod!"
"Please never call me that again, Edwyn."
"Oh, right, sorry."
The two boys stood in the brisk living room, a slight limp in Roddy's stance as he scratched his head groggily. Edwyn observed his sluggish movements underneath his fringe, unconsciously staring at the oval shaped mirror that hung across from them out of the corner of his eye; he was forcing himself to focus on his acne riddled face instead of his silly looking plaid button-up shirt or those gay shoes of his. He tried shrugging off the reflection that haunted him continually and instead, tried to prioritise the potential necessities of his ill friend.
"So er, what did you need?"
"I need medicine, paracetamol." He stated gruffly.
"What? Why don't you just get some yourself? Shops not far from here..."
"I don't want to."
Edwyn felt marginally indifferent, almost offended, towards this demand. Why couldn't Roddy buy some himself? It's not like he's—as he had said over the phone to Alan—"deadly-diseased", why was this his responsibility? He can walk and breathe, can't he? But then again, it's only buying medicine that's a few minutes away from here, not travelling miles and miles for some mysterious antidote that could only cure the most vile of diseases. Not to mention, light-headedness is common within people who are ill. Nevertheless, this didn't stop Edwyn from snapping back at a fragile Roddy.
"I get it, you're sick but—"
"Alan said I could come to either of you if I needed something—this is me needing something." Roddy instantly retorted,
almost as if he knew Edwyn was going to be funny about it already before he even pondered about stepping foot into his flat; there was undoubtedly, some extraordinary wittiness to this boy. Wit and abrasive behaviour was practically a formula for all those that were included in the Postcard family tree, Roddy was no exception. He was practically a softer version than the ones he already knew or got to know from the label whilst simultaneously managing to piss them all of in some way with his rebellious attitude that would transpire whenever he felt like it that day.
"He did say that, didn't he?" Edwyn whispered more to his own ears than Roddy's.
He stared downwards, watching the carpet lay fluffily underneath his leather shoes as all previous conversation with Alan was recollected by his brain, his fringe flopping over his face boyishly which had started to flush in embarrassment as he knew this whole ordeal on his end was incredibly naive, this could have been avoided and possibly, he'd already be walking down by now but instead, similarly to that of a foolish infant who couldn't have his own way, he's sitting here wasting Roddy's time with his childish quarrel.
"Alright, yeah... I'll go." Edwyn breathed sorrowfully, guilt grappling harshly at his tender brain.
Roddy plopped down half-assedly onto the couch, letting out a small sigh of relief, (both at the eventual acceptance from Edwyn and because standing was starting to make him feel dizzy.) retreating back into the settee while he inaudibly prayed that the cushions or pillows would envelop him whole; he desperately wanted to be clumped into the cushioned warmth of the entire settee.
Edwyn momentarily nodded at him and without another singular word, trotted on to the door, leaving Roddy to rest for a short while as he went to go buy some medicine for him solely.
A dull quietness returned once again, a spectre that haunted Roddy terribly. However, his mind was a spur of thoughts that focused on something else entirely; the phone call with Alan. He mentioned something briefly that seemed too extraneous for him to want to mention to Roddy, what was it though? He shrugged, maybe he'd bring it up another day when it seemed casual enough to chat about. For now, he'd let himself rest within the comfort of his own home... if the migraines that came and went could, just for a minute, let him.
-
"Here, you wanted these, right?"
Edwyn placed the light box of tablets onto the table in front of Roddy, who was peering at the tall, lanky young man that stood near, his head lulling to one side so it rested onto the cushion right beside him.
"Uh-huh. Thanks, Edwyn." He yawned.
"Do you want a glass with that?"
His eyes hastily glanced downwards, considering it for a moment before nodding as his answer. Edwyn walked off to the kitchen to get him exactly what he had wanted and successfully brought back a cool glass of water. He placed it down on the table alongside the box of medicine, settling down on the sofa opposite from the one Roddy lay upon, immediately twiddling his thumbs as opposed to looking like an idiot for staring somewhere mindlessly.
"So, how long should we expect you to be sick for?" Edwyn questioned shyly, subconsciously tilting his head to one side more than the other to accommodate his fringe.
"Uhh, a few more days, maybe?" Roddy sniffled and leaned forward to reach for the box, tucking his finger into the slight crack at the top and pushing the fold of the box upwards then pinching the top of one blister pack to drag it out of the box, popping a tablet out. "Honestly, I have no clue." He put the tablet in his mouth whilst grabbing the glass with his other hand and nimbly took a sip of the water as he threw his head back.
"Ah, alright."
"What've you two been up to lately?" The glass was placed back onto the table with a 'clink'.
"Uh, nothin' much." Edwyn blushed, resting his chin in his palm and staring away from Roddy towards that same depressing mirror again. "Me and Alan we just... get on with it, I suppose. Run around different places for the label and what not." He paused sharply, looking back towards Roddy as his thoughts drifted off to a specific London trip that Edwyn had no interest in disclosing. It all abruptly went silent as he didn't continue his former thought.
"I better be off since you have what you needed now." Edwyn randomly announced out of the blue. As harsh as it was, he was starting to feel himself stiffen as he endured the awkward air surrounding them. He stood up, already planning to leave when he heard Roddy's hoarse voice beckon him back,
"Edwyn, wait," He coughed out. "I uhh..."
"What?" Edwyn blinked.
Roddy bit his lip nervously, anxiety pooling in the pits of his stomach.
"Err... Umm..." He took a deep breath, trying to gain back some ounce of control over his scrambled mind.
"Yes?"
"Can you— O-or would you..." He choked out before casually continuing on as usual. "like to stay over?"
Edwyn felt puzzled by the offer as he processed it, he was going to catch Roddy's sickness if he stayed over, surely? Well— he was here in front of him already within a short distance he supposed, but at the same time, Edwyn didn't like making empty promises towards his friends or bandmates if he had anything eventful going on tomorrow. (not that he had recalled making any plans, anyways. Nevertheless, that didn't mean plans hadn't already existed, it just meant Edwyn was a forgetful sod.)
"I don't know if I can—"
"Please? I swear I'll let you leave straight away in the morning if you need to be somewhere, or you can leave as soon as I fall asleep." Roddy rubbed his eyes as he spoke, a stray eyelash constantly stabbing his eye that had left a lingering irritation afterwards. He appeared as if he was on the verge of tears with a red splatter surrounding his eyes that looked different to the feverish flush— or maybe it was only the result of that one tiny eyelash. "I just want someone to talk to, alright?" he muttered sombrely, a saddened expression resting upon his face.
The atmosphere felt tense as Edwyn still said nothing, continuously arguing with himself inwardly on what to do as his face scrunched up partially, his lips tight.
"I'm being daft, aren't I?" The younger boy spoke softly as he smiled in a self-deprecating manner, finding sudden interest in the wooden table that stood still ahead of him. He wasn't asking to be pitied, he wasn't trying to garner sympathy or 'poor you's, he just wanted to speak to someone. He grabbed the glass from the table and took a small sip of the water in hopes that it would cool his boiling blood down.
Edwyn scratched the back of his neck as his internal debating finally came to an end; he sat back down unhurriedly, his face downcast before gradually tilting up until his eyes met Roddy's sour expression, head slowly hanging downwards, shoulders tense and raised as his arms crossed over each other, as if he was cold.
Edwyn inhaled.
"I'll stay, OK?" He swore to himself that this was not uttered through clenched teeth, a genuineness to comfort Roddy whenever he could. With a desperate and urgent attempt to try and flip the melancholy mood over, Edwyn hunched over and felt his lips curling upwards, hands bracing themselves on his kneecaps. "However, this means you owe me a few songs to show, Frame."
Roddy lowered his arms, shaking his head as a smirk finally made its way slyly onto his face.
"Oh piss off, Edwyn."
Despite those harsh words being spat out, he smiled at the prospect of finally having some banter with Edwyn alone. He recalled the countless times he'd bump into Edwyn whether it was purely coincidental or on purpose, he would constantly be accompanied by Alan, the two giggling about something that they'd never let Roddy be informed on, casting him astray within conversation; You just couldn't separate the two at times, you'd very rarely find an Edwyn without an Alan and vice-versa. Although, both blokes did have their own individual circles of people with Edwyn being in Orange Juice and apparently Alan also had his own band at one point? It was hard to get concise answers out of Alan in Roddy's experience.
Perhaps this was a great opportunity to get more in-depth information surrounding Postcard. If Alan could only tell him things in ambiguous riddles then maybe, unlike Alan, Edwyn could give more explicit detail or even his very own input on it all.