We're Trouble Bound

Hands slipped around her waist, clasping at her belly button. When she looked down, she noted that one hand was wrapped in a thick tan bandage, evidence of an injured hand. The person pressed their lips to the side of her head, kissing her hair. Jaime smiled despite herself. “Oh, who is this strange man groping me?”

They were in the parking lot of the Meadowlands amid a sea of vans and buses on the second day of Bamboozle. A little more than a week had passed since their epic fight. On the surface, the fight had changed very little about their relationship.

“’S not no gropin’ going on…” Oliver said as she placed her hands over his.

“That’s too bad. I do enjoy a good grope from strange men.”

Oliver chuckled, kissing her temple. “I missed yeh…”

She turned around to face him, eyebrows raised. “I bet. Bet you missed getting beat around too.” She ran her fingers over his lips; there was a half healed cut where she had busted it open the week before.

“Yeh know me,” he bent down to press his lips to hers softly.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Are you like a pod person or something?”

“Eh?”

“When’d you become so affectionate?”

“I can’t jus’ kiss yeh for no reason?”

“You can…” She stood on her toes and kissed him again. “But it’s a little early for the games to start.”

Oliver sighed. “’S no game today.”

She pecked his mouth once more before pulling herself out of his grasp. “Uh huh.” She opened the van door to begin getting a bag out of it.

“Wha’ time are yeh on?” Oliver asked.

“Two or three. Maybe two thirty? Anthony told me at like four o clock this morning when he was wasted…” She slung her bookbag over her shoulder.

“Yeh want me to carry tha?”

She shrugged and handed him the bag. “If you want.”

It was surprisingly weighty. “Wha’d yeh got in ‘ere? ‘S fuckin’ heavy.”

“A handle of Jack Daniels,” she responded. “A guy at our show last night brought it to me as an early birthday present…”

“Tha’s soon, ain’t it?”

“Two weeks.” They began walking through the parking lot and into the venue. Out of habit, she linked her arm through his.

Oliver was sorry he would be missing her birthday; he’d be back home until the end of June rolled around when the band would be returning to the states for Warped Tour. He was undeniably eager for that tour. Keep Your Composure would be on it as well. He would be able to spend every day with Jaime if he wanted. In his mind, there was nothing better than that.

In the time that followed the altercation between him and Jaime, things in him felt different. He no longer felt the need to resist his total and complete obsession with Jaime Caldwell. It was useless. She got under his skin like no one else. She made him act like no one else could. If it had been anyone else he said what he did to, it wouldn’t have mattered; he wouldn’t have cared. He would never think twice about hurting a girl. But with her, it was wrong. Hurting her was wrong. And now, he could see, he only wanted to do good things for her; he only wanted to be the best for her. There was no doubt in his mind that she was what he wanted, that he was in love with her.

A year ago, this would have seemed ludicrous. He was still young, still living an active lifestyle. One in which attractive nearly naked women threw themselves at him almost daily. Falling in love, settling down; those things were a joke. Laughable. They were something that he would maybe think about one day. But not then. Not until he was thirty or forty at least. Definitely not then.

Then there she was. Walking next to him, biting her lip slightly, maybe rolling her eyes at trying-too-hard-hipsters. And she was perfect. He didn’t know how, knowing all her faults, he could call her perfect. But she was. Everything she was, everything she did… he loved.

“Hey, focus Sykes, it’s this way I think...” She tugged on his arm. His mind had been drifting. “You were starting to go the wrong direction.”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Pod person,” she muttered in a mimicked response. When he looked at her, she was grinning and staring straight ahead. He shook his head with a smile of his own before leaning over and kissing her temple.

--

Jaime bit her lip as she watched Oliver on stage in front of a crowd totaling in the thousands. She was at a sort of impasse in her head. It was hard to wrap her mind around his treatment of her that day. It was true that he’d always been nicer to her than everyone else but he was being extra saccharine with her on this particular day. He gave her endless kisses on the forehead, brought her food from catering and even helped her band load in. He took a hold of her hand when they were walking and squeezed it affectionately when they parted. It was all sickening sweet and she knew exactly why he was doing it.

He wanted to take back what he had done the weekend before. She was sure that he was trying to make it up to her. Even though he didn’t have to. She appreciated that he cared; she really and truly did. It was a good thing that he felt remorse for his words and wanted to treat her differently than that. But she would always rather he be himself. It irked her that he would change for her sake. She wouldn’t lie and say that she didn’t like the princess treatment; every girl did. But she wouldn’t sacrifice what she adored about Oliver, his carefree fuck-em-all attitude, for it.

She waited patiently for the signal, nodding her head to the beat and smiling occasionally, especially when Oliver would get on his knees and pound the stage madly. He came alive on stage, thrashing around and slamming his head. His too long hair matted down to the side of his face with sweat and his legs got tangled in his microphone cords every now and then. Jaime couldn’t deny that he looked absolutely gorgeous when these things happened.

Watching Oliver just made her even more curious about him. Though she pretended that she knew him so well, most of the time she had no fucking idea. Half her mystique was built on pretending. By acting so wise, she had the allusion of an upper hand. The only things she really knew about Oliver were the things she knew about herself. And even then, they weren’t always comparable. They weren’t as similar as the world would have them believe.

Bring Me the Horizon had played four songs before Oliver turned to the side of the stage where she stood and waved at her. This was the sign she had been waiting so patiently for. They started another song, one of her favorites, and she smiled wide, readying herself to bounce on stage. It wasn’t until midway through the song that she jumped into action, taking hold of a microphone and practically leaping onto the stage.

She could barely hear anything as she made her way to the front of the stage. Everything was driving guitars and screaming fans. She fixed herself near Lee and threw her hand in the air, curled fingers imitating his. She shot Oliver a devilish glance before growling “I could make it December… everyday!”

Oliver had bounded over to her. “But you’re so blind… it might as well be May,” he finished.
“And I whispered in her ear,” she sang, clapping her hand against her thigh. “You better fear me dear, for this is Death…”

Oli’s arm swung around her neck, bringing their faces close together as they did the end of the song in unison.

When the song had finished, two things happened simultaneously. First, the audience erupted into insane cheers, and second, Oliver planted a sloppy kiss directly onto her mouth. She nearly punched him, out of reflex only. But instead, bewildered, she pulled herself together and waved at the crowd before stumbling off stage in absolute astonishment. She vaguely heard Oliver thank her “Give it up fer Jaime fuckin’ Caldwell, yeh motherfuckers!”

There had been rumors about them before this moment, infinite amounts of talk on the matter. But now there would be facts. Not just hints in a magazine article but most likely dozens of YouTube videos, numerous pictures and thousands of firsthand accounts of a kiss between the notorious duo. All of this dawned on Jaime as she hung at the sidelines. She wasn’t mad; there was nothing to be mad about. She was just thoroughly confused.
Why the fuck would he do that?

Jaime thought he would be at least a little conscious of what this meant for his reputation or of the shit that would happen as a result. She’d gotten hate mail after she implied a dislike for him. She got into a fist fight after an interview suggested that they may be dating. Didn’t he know that people loved a good piece of gossip? And as much as she loved her infamy, she preferred it to be for her own exploits, not other peoples.

But past her confusion over the event, there was also something that she liked about this, in a strange sort of way. It led her to believe that he was still the Oliver she liked so much. The one that did completely ridiculous off-the-wall things. Maybe he hadn’t changed so much. This stunt, this kiss, could just be part of the game. It certainly one-upped anything she would have come up with and sent her into full blown distress mode. He was still Oliver. This was a relief. Maybe she didn’t have to worry about his sudden attitude change. Maybe it didn’t mean anything.

--

AP.net post
Kiss Your Composure / Bring Me the Hookup
A video of Bring Me the Horizon’s Oli Sykes laying a big fat kiss on Jaime Caldwell of Keep Your Composure can be seen in the replies.
Not sure if congratulations or cringes are in order.

--

Oliver had made a decision. He’d made it sometime about ten seconds after Jaime had taken the stage during his set earlier that evening. This decision was not one that would be made under normal circumstances. And he hadn’t even really thought about it at all. It just sort of came to him out of nowhere. One second he was thinking about the words to the song and the next this was the only thing he could focus on. When he saw her, standing there screaming his lyrics with her wild cherry red hair flying around her face and her small delicate fingers mimicking Lee’s riffs, he knew that he had to be more than just the guy she was fucking. That wasn’t good enough for him anymore. It was great and all; he loved having sex with her. But he needed more. He wanted more. He wanted her to be his girlfriend.

It had been quite some time since he’d had a girlfriend. His lifestyle was not suited for having a girlfriend and in his experience, they were more hassle than they were worth. They set rules that could hardly be followed. They expected you to call them on time. They often withheld sex when they were angry. They were always trying to get you to get a haircut so you could meet their mum. It was one trouble after another.

Though there was something to be said of trouble. After all, Jaime was trouble.

But the thing about Jaime’s kind of trouble was that it was fun. Always unexpected. Never monotonous or irritating. It kept him guessing. It made him energized. And he could deal with that. He doubted she would ask him to cut his hair. But even if she did, it would be worth it for once. Because she was worth any of the trouble she threw at him.

With this decision in mind, he couldn’t help but kiss her after the song she’d done with them. His excitement had taken a hold of his actions and he hadn’t even thought twice about it. But in retrospect, it did seem a bit brazen, even for him. The fact that she’d disappeared after the set reinforced this fact. Adding this to his ultra-nice ‘pod person’ routine that day, she probably thought he’d completely lost it.

So he didn’t go looking for her immediately. He didn’t call or text obsessively like his mind was telling him to. He was going to play it cool and hope she would seek him out. He would act totally nonchalant about his decision to make Jaime his girlfriend. No big deal. But after an hour and half with no contact, he was feeling a bit wounded and very foolish. He had assumed that because this playing it cool worked with every other lass it would work with Jaime. He should have learned by then that Jaime almost never acted like anyone else. That was potentially part of his problem; it was impossible to understand her, though he wanted to.

Sitting on their bus, he was pouting slightly. He was ready to break down and just call her. He didn’t want to be that guy. That desperate loser getting all wound up over a girl. But he was learning that he’d been that guy for some months now and it was useless to stop it. He was pulling out his phone when she finally appeared on their bus, carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels. “I had to ask like three of your bandmates what your bus code was… no one seemed to know,” she said. “But I got it!” She added triumphantly.

“Oh…”

“I brought tasty refreshments.” Her free hand was planted on her hip and her head tilted to the side. “How about we do no mixers right now. Straight up. Take it like men.”

He nodded and stared blankly. “O’reight…”

“Kind of like a farewell drink, since I won’t be seeing you in like a month and a half.” Her mouth formed an exaggerated frown. “Cups or something?”

Without saying anything, Oliver shuffled from his seat and to a cabinet to produce two red party cups. He sat them on the counter and Jaime shifted to stand next to him. He took the bottle from her and poured, filling them each a third of the way up.

“Still a pod person, I see,” she said, putting her arm around his waist while he capped the bottle.

“Eh?”

“You’re acting weird today.”

“’M not…”

“Right.” She took a sip of her drink, shuddering slightly at the burning taste. He followed suit, matching her expression exactly. “Where have you been all night? Finding other host bodies for your alien invasion?”

“Aye, exactly.”

“Can’t hide anything from me,” she stated, tapping her forehead with her index finger. “I know all.”

“’S tha’ so?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Yeh know e’eryfing?”

“Yep.”

“Wha’ am I finking now?” He asked, a serious expression washing over his face.
Jaime placed her cup back down on the counter and slipped her other arm around his middle. She looked directly into his eyes and after a moment broke into a smile. “You’re thinking about taking me to your bunk and having some deliciously hot closed quarters sex.”

As nice as that sounded to him, that wasn’t what he was thinking.

“No?” She questioned his silence.

“Hmm, no.”

“You AREN’T thinking about sex? I guess I don’t know all.” She shrugged and went to move away but he locked his own arms around her. He bent his head down and slowly slid his lips onto hers. It was an unhurried gentle kiss that made Jaime suck in a sharp breath of air. She was surprised by how intense things suddenly felt. He was moving at a very measured pace, taking his time in what he was doing. It was making her head spin and her fingers go numb. He had never kissed her like this before. And when he pulled away, her eyes were still closed, like this was the first kiss she’d ever received in her life. She scrambled to come up with something quick-witted. “Oh yeah, you totally aren’t thinking about sex.” Her attempt at sarcasm failed slightly due to the stagger in her words.

“I gotta ask yeh sumfin,” he said.

She could feel the warmth from his sentence hit her lips. He was being rather intoxicating. “Okay.” She was in a trance of sorts, eyes locked with his.

“Would yeh be my girlfriend?” It was a simple enough approach, he thought. This way there could be no questions about their definition.

His question shook her. She broke free from her daze. She regained feeling in her fingers. “Girlfriend? Oliver, are you crazy?” She stared at him strangely. “You aren’t serious.”

A little hurt, he asked “An’ ef I am?”

“You aren’t.”

“How can yeh be sure?”

“Because that isn’t how it is for us.”

“Wha’s tha’ mean?”

“You can’t start thinking that way,” she said desperately. Her eyes were wide, upset somehow.

“In wha’ way? Like yeh bein’ wiff me for real? Not jus’ fuckin’ round. I’m not startin’ finkin’ that… I been finking it for awhile now,” he admitted. It was about time for him to just be honest with her.

Jaime broke free of his arms and began chewing on her lip. “That’s not right… It can’t be like that.”

“Wha’?”

“You don’t want to be with me.” She was faced away from him.

“I do!”

Jaime sighed and began pacing as much as the small aisle way would allow for. The things she had been thinking all day long were bubbling around her brain. “Oliver…”

“Wait, jus’ listen for a minute…” He put his arms around her shoulders, to halt her nervous pacing and to pull her into him. Her ear was beside his mouth so he just had to whisper “I know it doesn’ make a bit o’ sense but Jaime… Yer my best mate… yer the fuckin’ fittest lass I e’er met… To me, yer the perfect girl…” The next part was the hardest for him. It defied all logic. “An’ I love you.”

She was quiet and motionless in his arms. It was so much worse than she originally thought. This was going too far. She couldn’t let him do this.

“Jaime?” He said slowly after a minute of her stillness.

“Hmm?” She was trying to enjoy this peaceful moment of him holding her before she fucked it all up.

“Yeh gonna say sumfin?”

“Uh huh, in a minute.” He thought it was a good sign when she pushed her hands against his cheeks, looked him in the eyes once more and said “Oh Oliver…” She kissed him briefly. “Oliver… You can’t love me.”

His stomached knotted; the same way it had when he’d said goodbye to her in December. “Wha?”

“Babe, it doesn’t work that way,” she said, running her fingers over his cheek and lips. “You’re saying it because you think you should, because that’s what should come next… But this is me and you, Oliver. With us, there is no love. That’s not us.”

“Jaime, I don’t… wha’re yeh…”

“Love doesn’t exist for people like us.” She uttered this in the most solemn of tones. “We don’t get to be the one’s in love. We… we get to be… the first one’s at the bar, the last ones to leave. We get… arrest warrants and hospital trips, fist fights and reputations. We get to be the loud ones, the drunk ones, the crazy ones… Not the loved ones.”

The problem with Jaime’s argument was that her eyes were watery and her voice was cracking. Like maybe she didn’t believe what she was saying. She was biting down on her bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

He gaped at her, unable to speak right away. The twists and turns in his guts were bearable compared to how looking at her was making him feel. This was different than when he’d made her cry; he could control that. But now, she was doing this to herself. “Jai… yeh don’ mean tha…”

“I do.” She didn’t even wipe away the tear that broke past her eyes. “W-we couldn’t e-ever be a regular couple. B-b-because we aren’t regular people.”

He grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands from his face and pressing them to his chest. “Don’ do this… Yeh don’t ‘ave ta do this…” Oliver’s chest was tightening.

“I’m not doing anything… It’s just how it is…” A strangled sound came from the back of her throat. A sob.

“Stop it,” he demanded. “I lov—“

“Don’t say that.” She slid her hands out of his grasp. “You don’t love me. You can’t. And I can’t ever love you. It isn’t possible.”

He was so intolerably frustrated. He knew by her tears that this was upsetting her, that there was at least part of her that didn’t want to be saying what she was. And for maybe the first time ever, he understood her. It wasn’t that she thought love was impossible. She just didn’t want it to be.

They were the same. For so long, he’d struggled with his adoration of Jaime. He’d fought it, insisting it was something less than love. It was clear to him then that she’d been fighting it too; she was still fighting it.

“I’m gonna go,” she said somberly.

“Jaime…” He reached for one of her hands.

She let him take a hold of it but she pressed her other hand to his mouth. “It’s just how it is,” she repeated, letting both her hands fall away. She kissed his cheek and stared at him wistfully, eyes wet and red. “See you around.”