This story was requested by @Power_Age.

*clank*

Two beer bottles stood on the floor next to a hamper overflowing with dirty laundry. A third just joined them. When the shaky hand that set it down felt the absence it instinctively reached for another. But stopped.

This wouldn't bring him back. 

What would drinking do besides bring on a headache to add more pain to his already broken heart? 

But still...they tasted good. 

Malcolm stood up from the floor and looked around him. His room was a mess. Yesterday's clothes hanging on the dresser, a couple records scattered on the floor, a few tear-stained tabloids and a broken watch. He scraped up the clothes and dumped them on the ever growing pile in the hamper and tossed the records on a shelf. The tabloids were nothing but complete rubbish and he crumpled them up without reading them again. 

"Mal?"

Malcolm looked up. Linda stood there in the doorway with a mug in her hand. "Yeah?"

"I've made you tea...if you're up for it." 

Malcolm balled the papers in one hand and ran the other through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks." 

Linda handed him the mug and looked around their bedroom. "I see you've been cleaning up."

Taking a few sips, Malcolm sat on the bed. "A bit."

"Maybe I ought to get the laundry done, or we won't have anything to wear." Linda made to grab the hamper but Malcolm shook his head.

"You did it last week, I'll get it this time." The crumpled paper was still in his hand. Linda wasn't long in noticing it.

"Can I take that for you, Mal?"

"Hmm? Oh..." Malcolm stared at the illegible print and black and white photo corners. It had been a week since it happened. One of his own family. Freezing temperatures, the middle of the night...and completely alone. What a fucking way... 

"Mal?"

In one instant the ball of paper flew across the room and hit the wall. It rolled under a chair and stayed there in the shadows. Linda took a seat on the bed next to him. Feeling her arm drape over his shoulders he turned his face away and brought a hand to his eyes. "I'm alright, darlin', sorry about that." He cleared his throat and drank his tea. 

"You feel cold, Malcolm."

"Yeah well..." He sniffed. "It's two fuckin' degrees outside." They both sat there for a while wrapped in each other's company. The light was on while the sun went down outside. Malcolm shivered. All the tea in the world couldn't warm up a soul in London's February. Taking a quick glance at his wife he saw Linda staring blankly at the bottles on the floor. He waited for her to call him out on it but she stayed silent, leaning her head on his shoulder and rubbing his back. "You need help with dinner or...anythin'?"

"No, I've just boiled some soup." He nodded and took another drink. "I miss him too."

"Who?" Linda looked at him. "Oh. Yeah. Course, he's a swell guy, ya' know. Probably would have told me off for sulkin' in here all day, ya' know? Don't sob over me, what's that gonna do?" Linda carefully wiped her eye with her finger. "Don't cry so much when you play, you'll electrocute yourself or somethin'."

"He wouldn't have said all that."

Malcolm ran his hand through Linda's brown hair. "Hm. Maybe not."

The two were quiet for a while. 

After dinner Linda decided she'd better take a shower. Malcolm took the heaping hamper and got started on the laundry. He stuck a couple towels in the dryer so they'd be warm for Linda when she came out. As he threw a few shirts in he noticed one of them didn't belong to either of them. It was black with a Cola logo on it, and slightly larger than his own shirts.

"Oi, Bon, can I borrow this?"

"Is it expensive?"

"No."

"Take it."

Malcolm left Bon to his steamy magazine to put on the shirt. His own shirt was hanging on the shower rod in the bathroom to dry. His own fault for paying his friend a visit during a storm. He came out to see Bon in the living room tearing out a page of the magazine and folding it into an airplane. 

"Hey, Mal. Nice dress."

"Thanks. Nice tent."

"Ah, thank you. These ladies are too cute for their own good, like. Here." Bon tossed the magazine at him. "Have that, I'm through."

"I don't need it, I got the best woman on Earth." Bon aimed his airplane at the wall opposite and threw it. It looped once then crashed to the carpet. He stood up to retrieve and improve it as Malcolm grabbed his cigarettes from his pocket. "Got anything to drink around here?"

"Beer in the fridge, tea on the stove, piss in the bowl."

"Thanks." Malcolm stood and let himself in the kitchen. Beer sounded good but he decided to make some tea from the rain freezing his bones. He looked up and saw a photo hanging on the wall of Bon and his smiling mother. 

"I'll do it."

"Mal, you don't--"

"Yes, I fuckin' do 'cause if his family fuckin' finds out from some shallow bullshit newspaper I can't ever forgive myself."

Malcolm smiled at the photo. Rock and roll star or not Bon loved his family. He didn't hate the world, he didn't live off disrespect. He was a man who loved his mother. Grabbing a cup and setting it on the counter he came back to see Bon on the phone. 

"Yeah...yeah, Mal's here. You wanna word?" Malcolm stepped forward but Bon stopped him. "Oh, you're busy? Well, you can call him back or somethin', ya' know?" He listened a bit before nodding his head. "Alright, I'll tell him. Bye." Bon hung up. "That was your brother."

"Which one?"

"George. Said he had to drop by your mum's the other day to pick some stuff up an' head down to our studio an' things like that."

"He had to call you for that?"

"I dunno, maybe he tried callin' you an' you weren't home." Bon grinned. "Where's your bar?"

"Not havin' one. You want tea?" Bon tilted his head from side to side. 

"Eh. Why not, eh?" Making a second attempt to fly his paper airplane, Bon stood on his sofa and threw it. The plane bumped a light fixture and went straight down. The tip was crinkled. "Fuck, you little thing."

"Make it better then," Malcolm suggested. Bon threw a pillow at him. 

"You try flyin' it, Glenn Miller." Malcolm threw the pillow back and the two started laughing like brothers.

Malcolm snapped out of his thoughts and tossed the shirt in. He threw everything else in with a little soap and turned the machine on. Grabbing the towels from the dryer he brought them to the bathroom. 

"These are yours, love." He set them down on the counter. Linda's voice called from behind the curtain. 

"Thank you."

He returned to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Still a whole case of beer left, he took one and shut the door. He drank around half of it in one go then took a seat at the table. Head in his hand he stared at the centerpiece his mother had gotten for him on his wedding. He fiddled with one of the flowers until the petals came off. Then he took another couple of drinks. The pendulum clock struck seven with a mournful little tune. 

Outside his flat were footsteps. Then a key, then a door closing. Probably a neighbor coming home from a long day of work. His bottle was empty. He got another one. He got a glass of water to stop his headache. The running water stopped. His face was wet. He brought a hand to his face and dried it off. 

The bottle of beer was half gone and so was the water. Malcolm ran his hands over his hair and sighed. The heart in his chest pounded as did his temples. The glass of water was empty. Malcolm stood up to refill it. The room spun. He sat back down. 

His face was wet again. He wiped his cheeks with his hands but the water wouldn't stop coming. There were footsteps in the hallway. Malcolm tried cleaning all the water off before the other person could come out and see him like this but it was no use. In his haste he knocked over the beer bottle and caught it before it could spill all over the table. His eyes burned and a lock of hair stuck to his cheek. He stopped wiping his face. He understood.

A pair of arms hugged him from behind. Linda leaned close to her husband and kissed his head. He sighed when she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him again. Pushing the bottle away from him, he turned in his chair and took his wife's face in his hands. While her own eyes cradled some tears, Malcolm used his thumb to wipe them away. As the long night wore on they held each other in comfort. 

This display wouldn't bring him back. 

But still...it felt good.