The apartment smelled nothing like it did before Melvin left. Melvin gagged when he closed the door. "First, they haul my ass to the looney bin..." He groaned as he shut the door behind him. "...then they fill my house with bleach and lemons."

He looked to his dead house plant and asked it, "Remind me why I don't murder people more often?"

When he received no response, he shrugged and moved to his bedroom.

He flung the door open and flung himself onto his bed—the only thing that felt right. It creaked against his weight, the mattress molded to fit his body. Melvin pulled his thin blanket over himself and kicked his shoes off. He stuck his hand in the sheets, letting it roam against the mattress and the blanket until he could feel his familiar fabric.

"Now...where are you...?" He felt it against his fingertips and he yanked it from under himself. "Aha!" He held the cape in front of him, eyeing it in the dim evening light that pooled in through the blinds. "Found you!"

Melvin rubbed his cape against his face, loving it's purple color and smooth fabric against his skin, sniffing it in hopes that the scent would take him back to warmer times. "I've missed you, Capey..."

Melvin seemed to be the only thrilled about his arrival—he hadn't known his neighbors that well but he could feel their stares when he passed them in the hall. Guy from the institution is back. Didn't you hear? He killed a man.

Melvin couldn't even remember half of what the doctors and psychiatrists had said, nor what they had tried to prescribe him. It was a big, boring blur. Pill after pill, question after question; it drove him insane just being there, having to sit still and act like a civil human being. The bag of pills he came home with were shoved into the junk drawer and that's where they would stay.

He knew what the neighbors were saying about him, what the people in the streets saw on his face that they recognized from the news—but that was months ago. If no one had convinced themselves he was a 'reformed' man, they probably forgot all about him.

Melvin had stopped caring. Right now he could go for something to eat.

With his stomach grumbling, he forced himself up out of bed and made his way to the door. But, not before looking into his mirror on the back of his door to see if he could get his hair in any and all directions.

That institution promotes so much sanity that even his hair couldn't take it, having drooped to his shoulders in sadness. He went to the bathroom, filled his hands with gel and massaged the roots, saying, "I know, I know...I hated it there too. But guess what?"
When his hair extended to every direction, he sneered. "We're home."

After arranging the poofs to where they needed to be, he noticed the slightest hint of stubble at his chin. Melvin only groaned; the mean-doctor-people didn't let him touch any sharp things, so he couldn't shave at the asylum. He was surprised, however, that only so little facial hair had grown.

Frustrated, he forced himself into the bathroom. Luckily, the light bulbs weren't changed, and the room still had a certain dimness that he took to a liking. Melvin loved his darkness, and let as little light in as possible, no matter where he was.

He scavenged his drawers for a razor that wasn't there, because hadn't bought any. "Shit..." He grumbled. An idea popped into his head, and he left, and returned with a sharpened kitchen knife.

Melvin picked it up and took a long look in the mirror. He didn't have a real beard, but the stubble did place the shape on his face and he saw the resemblance to someone he'd long forgotten.

"You have to go." He said to the stubble on his chin. After slathering on his shaving cream, he held the blade to his face at an angle, then proceeded to scrape against his skin.

Had he done this before? No.
Was this even safe? Probably not.
Was he out of his mind? Absolutely.

Melvin held the knife as still as he could. One wrong move could end in some of his skin out of place. He tried not to think about all the things he missed so much—fries, a full wardrobe, a warm bed, food of his choosing—and kept working at every corner on his face.

Finally the stillness was over, and he sighed in relief. Washing off hair and shaving cream, he wiped his mouth with a towel, that he could tell was fresh and clean from whoever had been inside while he was gone.

"That is the last time I'll ever be so reckless..." He said to his reflection. He grinned madly at the sight in his reflection, knowing that he was back to his old self. The old Melvin. His prominent veins on his jaw and cheeks pulsed. The glowing eye in the center of his forehead glowed stunningly. His tongue hung until the tip was at his chin. "...in front of the doctors, of course."

Heading for the door, shooting a text for a meeting spot, he slipped his shoes back on. He did, unfortunately, have to leave his cape behind. It'd attract more attention than he desired.

"I'll come back again, Capey," he folded it and set it on the couch. "Daddy's going out."

***

One of the attractions he missed so desperately was a diner downtown. If it wasn't for their stellar fries he wouldn't give two shits about this place, but he had a craving and he couldn't get past it.
He walked closer the restaurant and stood by the entrance, leaning on the wall.

Melvin checked his phone. Bakura was probably stuck in traffic or something. He wouldn't bail on the day he finally came back, right?
Also, Melvin was a broke ass bitch. If Bakura didn't show then Melvin couldn't eat, much less eat his favorite meal. It would place him in further debt, but at this point he didn't care. If he counted on his fingers, he could calculate the amount he owed...then multiply it by a hundred.

Finally he saw Bakura's car parallel park (which was something Melvin could never do for the life of him) and his white head of hair peek out from the driver's side of the car. Melvin opened his mouth to greet him, but stopped when his jaw threatened to drop at the sight of Marik emerging from the passenger's side.

"I told you we should've just taken my motorcycle," Marik complained, whiny. "I could maneuvered through that traffic easily."

"And get us both killed? Yes." Bakura groaned. "Next time I feel like dying, we can take the motorcycle."

Melvin said "AHEM" loud enough to be heard from across the street.

Bakura offered a sly wave, but when Marik turned his eyes widened. He faced Bakura and muttered, "I changed my mind. I wanna go home."

Melvin saw him and a frown grew on his face. "Sorry, Marik, I'll just head back to the institution. I'll come out whenever you're ready."

Bakura walked across the street, Marik was dragged by his wrist. When they reached Melvin, Marik said, "I thought you still had the rest of this year."

He grinned at him. "They let me go."

Bakura laughed. "Really? Did Harley Quinn break you out?"

Melvin sneered. "They think I'm sane enough to be around people, now. So long as I take my medication."

Marik muttered something under his breath, bitterly crossing his arms.

"Wait, they gave you medication?" Bakura was shocked, yet snickering. "What does it do? Is it, like...pills?"

"I take it and suddenly it's spring and these flowers just start singing," He chortled. "Ra, I don't even remember what they did. I just got the hell out of there."

"Clearly they didn't do enough." Marik grumbled.

"Hey, brother dearest!" Melvin turned to him with a toothy grin. "Just because you have a stick up your ass doesn't mean you have to be up in mine :)"

Bakura had to hold Marik back from the hood of his shirt, since Marik was ready to pounce on him and scratch his eyes out with his manicured nails.
"I'm not afraid of you! You want out of trouble with the authorities, or should I finally report that car as stolen?"

Melvin knew that was a genuine threat he should probably fear, but he yawned and said, "Dead men tell no tales."

Marik ripped himself from Bakura's grasp and pointed a finger at him. "You're a crazy bitch, Melvin. Did you know that?"

"Oh, believe me." He said with an insane look in his eyes. "I am very aware."

Bakura chuckled. "Sounds like someone needs some singing flowers."