Black Cat

 


Bran was drunk once more just like yesterday and the day before. Sometimes he even drunk to make the hangover go away. Seeing there were no concert booked as he basically was the only band member still alive, he saw no reason to stay clear. His part time job as bartender suited just fine and he was even more creative when under influence so the magic tattoos were great. It was night and he didn’t have to work anyways. He snogged a busty blonde all night and was really close to going home with her when he decided he didn’t feel like doing it tonight. Yes even Bran sometimes wasn’t in the mood. The rockstar apologized and decided to go home. He wasn’t actually depressed, now as he? The new nickname he’d gotten ‘the black cat’ wasn’t something he enjoyed. Mostly because it truly seemed to fit him behind the acting. People around Bran ended up hurt or dead. That was no denial, first his dad and now his band. In both cases he felt it was his fault.

The rockstar gave the blonde one more kiss on her cheek and told her he’d make up for it. However they probably both knew the chance of meeting again was low. Bran didn’t really care. While the blonde had been the catch of the evening there were many evenings to come and many more catches to do. Bran could get about anyone he wanted if he put enough effort in it and he wasn’t a very picky one himself either. Usually attention, snogging and sex made him feel good. But not today. Actually he didn’t quite know how he felt or what he felt. The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t going home yet. Not the wizarding way at least, apparating while drunk was asking for injuries. So he’d walk instead. As soon as he left the pub and the noises faded behind glass when the door closed, he inhaled the evening smog of muggle London. “This city is disgusting.” But it was home, just like other big cities in this world as that was where he’d play his concerts in. Well make that big cities in Europe as the world tour was still but a dream one that might never become reality. Lauren’s question remained still unanswered; Bran hadn’t decided yet if he wanted to move on and find a new band or start a solo thing. IF he even wanted to try again. Writing songs needed inspiration and right now he could only think dark thoughts. Even if that might fit the band’s image, there no longer was a band who could record with him. Bran didn’t want to replace the boys, it was all too soon.

The funerals were just behind his back each equally tough to get through. He was expected to honor his friends and say something inspiring but he could see it in the eyes of his mates’ parents that they blamed him and the band for their sons’ deaths.

The tattooed man took a package of tobacco and rolled a cigarette he licked the paper and closed the cigarette. Urgh these cheap cigarettes were disgusting but he couldn’t afford the good stuff right now and he had his needs. Perhaps he should pick up more hours at the pub or tattoo shop. Speaking of tattoos, Bran lighted the cigarette and looked at his hands. Was there any more space? The back of his hands were already full of tattoos, some muggle and some magical. His fingers only had a letter each. One could argue that tattoos could be added to the list of his addictions. Tattoos served as a bandage to heal the invisible wounds and some were put there on good nights. His tattoos told the story his lips couldn’t speak.

Bran smoked the cigarette and glanced up to the night sky. The stars were dimmed out by the streetlights and the sky was partly cloudy, hiding the half moon. Some would say they missed the clear sky of the landside but Bran had always lived in a city. The city skies were all the same, it didn’t matter if you lived in a good neighbourhood or was born in a slum like Bran. His little apartment in Knockturn was more luxurious than the place where his dad and he had lived. Blue eyes darkened as guilty feelings boiled in his stomach making him feel sick, why did he have to think of his father?

The cigarette reached it’s end and was thrown on the ground. Bran extinguished it with his black leather boot. With his hands in his pocket, the man started walking down the streets of muggle London. At this time where every sane human being would be asleep, London lived. A giggling group of teenage girls passed him by. Bran pulled the hood of his shirt over his head just in case they happened to recognize him. He was done with conversations for today.

This was just another typical day really. Bran’s life started to become monotone and boring. He slept, he ate, he drank, he smoked, he partied and he fucked. Oh and worked if he the time was there. But both the tattoo shop and the pub weren’t going to give him an actual contract. They just called when they needed him. While this was how his life had been for the past years (but then concerts and practices were included) it was now that he grew tired of it. It wasn’t as fun without his friends. He had wanted to contact Mali but she seemed to have a lot to handle so he did not interfere. Sometimes he wondered if his friends were actually friends and not just casual acquaintances. Bran tended to grow attached to someone too quickly even if he claimed he did not. Or maybe he just decided he no longer deserved to have fun. His mates were buried under the ground because he cowardly saved his own ass.

If this was anymore typical it would be raining but even if it was dark and cloudy the sky didn’t look threatening. Bran crossed the street, he was getting near the doorway to the Magical side of London. There was an annoying sound which was getting louder the further he walked. It almost sounded like a high pitched wailing. What the- ? He shook his head and continued to walk. However as he continued his eyes fell upon the source. There was a tiny black kitten sitting in the gutter between the road and the pavement. “Oh no,” he told himself and quickly alternate his eyes. Why did he have to run into a black cat, reminding him of what everyone called him lately. It was as if he was cursed. The kitten seemed to have noticed the passerby rockstar and approached him, meowing in the same high pitch as it had wailed. “Get lost,” he groaned and tried to step away from the kitten without stepping on it. Meeeeeooowww. There it was again, the kitten didn’t give up. “Shoot! Go to your mom,” he hissed the tiny black ball of fur away. The kitten jumped up and grew twice it size as his ears went flat and fear appeared in it’s yellow eyes. Great now Bran felt like a bully. Where did this one even came from? His eyes trailed down the road and… Oh… There was a dead mother cat, run over by a car. This discovery only made him feel worse. The kitten had done nothing to him besides reminding him of his bad luck. He loved Mali’s fancy cats and cats in general.

The man sighed and sat down at the ground. “Sorry,” he mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. This kitten didn’t seem to be lucky in life either. It’d probably die if left on it’s own. It seemed so little and fragile. “Lost your family too, heh?” The tiny black animal stood still and looked at Bran, it wasn’t as eager to approach him anymore but it seemed to be curious instead of scared. “Ma left da for a rich dude. I hated her for it, never seen her again. Da died cuz ‘o me. I provoked a crazy of whom I thought he was only words,” he shook his head. How much he regretted that happening. “My pals too. We were gonna make it big ya know? Our first European tour was a success. Then bam; dead and I fled, left ‘em to die.” Bran realized he was very drunk, talking to a cat and all. He closed his eyes, when he opened them again the kitten stood before him. Meow? “Quite a chatter, huh?” This tiny bastard reminded him of himself. “Fine, I’ll give ya a place to stay for tonight,” he said even if he knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to sent the kitten away. Bran didn’t want any responsibilities. Having another living thing in his house was a burden but how could he say no to something so sweet?

He picked up the kitten and held it in his arms. Apparently the kitten was exhausted, it purred and slowly fell asleep. “Tsk, brat,” he said with a smile. Like that he moved through the Leaky and wandered through Diagon Alley to Knockturn until he reached his apartment. “Welcome to your new home.”