You Mustn't Give Your Heart To A Wild Thing

I had been prepared for the jokes and advice to control my fists this time around, I had been prepared for the questions at customs; as to why there had been stamps claiming my arrest at Charles de'Gaulle in my passport.

I had not been prepared for Curtis Ward's arrival at gate thirteen.

"What the fuck d'ye think ye doin' 'ere mate?" The departure lounge grew uncommonly silent in the moments following my outburst, and I had to prise my brothers hand from my arm as I rose unsteadily to my feet.

The deep purple bruise my fist had forced upon his right eye, had faded to a faint, olive green and his bottom lip was still protruding a little more than normal; swollen toward the left corner where he'd been caught by my right hook. He visibly recoiled as I squared up to him and I couldn't help the smirk slipping across my lips as he looked to the others for help. "Ye didn' tell 'im? I thought ye said 'e were okay wi' this?"

My smirk was short lived as Thomas, Nicholls, Matt, Lee and Sheep avoided my gaze in quick sucession of one another. Thomas, picking to stare at the vending machine across the way instead of meeting my eyes. Matt, deciding to rave, suddenly and rather abruptly, about the comfort level; or lack thereof, of the chairs we were slumped in. "I think one of ye should explain, righ' now"

Sheep was the only one to offer an answer, and even then, he clamped his mouth shut mere seconds later. Letting his excuse linger; like the baddest of smells, in the air.

"Ye wrote that fuckin' statement" I exclaimed, unable to keep my arms from waving manically in the air. "As far as I knew 'e were outta the band. As far as the fans are concerned Curtis Ward left the fuckin'..."

"We ne'er published it Ol" Sheep mumbled his voice barely above a whisper; getting lost, tangled, amongst the hustle and bustle of the lounge. "We thought ye'd give it up Ol, we thought ye'd get over it"

I swore the collective gasp; the sharp intake of breath, from my brother and bandmates, was enough to cause a hurricane and it took Sheep but a second to realise his mistake.

"Get over it?" I spat, outraged. "Get the fuck over it, Sheep?" The hum of the departure lounge fell to a low din again, and I could feel the eyes of each and every person trained onto my trembling body. "'ow d'ye propose I do that mate? 'ow is it that someone gets over their girlfriend 'avin an abortion wi'out tellin' 'em?"

I knew this was neither the time or the place. I regretted the volume of my voice the instant my words rang clear; and horrifically loud in my ears."'ow would you,get over the fact tha' ye best mate knew an' didn' tell ye? That ye best fuckin' friend took 'er to the fuckin' hospital, held 'er fuckin' 'and, and never thought t' mention it?"

"Oliver ye causin' a scene, would ye sit down" Sheep hissed, "We really don' need ye gettin' in shit again, jus'..."

"Did ye not think 's what would 'appen?" I asked, more than a little bemused. "What did ye expect Sheep? Some sorta heartfelt renunion, some tears? Ye know me better than that man, an' I thought I knew ye enough t' trust ye were on my side"

"There aren't any sides Ol" Sheep sighed, rising to join me, before positioning himself between Curtis and I. "Ye both did what ye thought were right at the time, an' 's that simple" He shook his head sternly as I opened my mouth to protest.

How dare he condone what Curtis had done? How dare he claim any, all, of this to be simple?

"Curtis is comin' t'merica. Tha's what's right, now, for the band" he ignored the daggers being shot from my eyes back and forth between Curtis and himself, and carried on "'m not expectin' ye to be best buds mate; I don' even care if ye refuse t' talk t'im Ol, 's just what ye need t'do for the band. An' even if ye don' see it now, it might well be what ye need t'do for yeself too"

I was utterly speechless. A thousand and one things were racing through my mind, but not one of them seemed to fit, and not one of them would've even come close to describing how I felt.

I was waiting for Ashton to jump out of hiding and tell me I'd been punk'd, I was
waiting; with baited breath, to wake up in my bed at home in a cold sweat; the kind that only followed nightmares such as this. But as the tanoy system advised us that boarding of flight 6528C to Washington DC would commence in three minutes, and everyone slowly and reluctantly climbed to their feet around me I realised that this was no hilarious joke, nor some carefully orchestrated prank.

The fact that I wasexpected to forgive Curtis, was almost as shocking to me as the fact he had turned up at all, and I couldn't help but pinch my own arm as he threw me a fleeting, lop-sided grin. Just to check.

I was one hundred percent certain I didn't need to 'do this for myself' as Sheep had reasoned and I was now, one hundred and ten percent set on getting Curtis off the tour before he, or I, stepped a single foot on American soil.

"Look, Ol, I don't want any bad..."

"If ye don't want me t' punch ye again Curtis, I suggest ye stop righ' there" I snarled, turning and fetching my backpack from where I'd been sat. "An' you" My finger was pointed directly in Sheeps face; a mere centimetre or so from actually touching him, "Ye gonna sort this fuckin' mess out mate, 'cause I sure as 'ell am not playin' a single show with 'im"

"Oliver, don't ye think ye being a little bit unreasonable"

My lips tugged back against my teeth and I could feel myself literally seething; a small hiss passed my lips and my whole body was tensed to an almost painful degree. "Unreasonable is forcin' ye best friend to forgive somethin' ye can't even begin t' imagine the pain of. Unreasonable, Sheep, would be leavin' ye all 'ere righ' now"

&&

Sheep had pointed out my bags were already in the hold of the airplane; and the complexity and aggravation of getting them back, Nicholls had tempted me with the idea of free alcohol. I had remembered basking in the sunshine during our previous American tour and Curtis had promised to not stray within five yards of me. The first round of cocktails at the hotel were on Lee, and Thomas and Kean had offered to share a room on our arrival, so I could 'gather my thoughts'.

Thoughts, of which I had two.

"Can I get you another drink Sir?"

I drug my eyes from the small television screen in front of me and nodded a silent yes, handing the flight attendant the tiny bottle of whisky I'd downed in one, mere moments before, and pointing toward another. She smiled uneasily and fetched me a fresh glass with three cubes of ice, her eyes constantly flickering about my inked skin as she did so.

I pulled my headphones from my ears with a loud, purposeful sigh and let my head loll back against the seat. "Yes they 'urt" I sighed closing my eyes briefly, "an' 'll probably regret 'em when I get married or some bullshit but..."

"I was looking because they interest me" she smiled politely, placing the fresh drink in my outstretched palm. "I was about to compliment you, actually"

I chuckled softly and took a sip of my drink, peering at her over the rim of the small plastic cup and watching the blush slowly creep across her cheeks, she was cute in an overly conventional way. Her bright blue eyes sparkled dumbly beneath mascara clogged lashes and blunt honey blonde bangs, and her lips shined with layer upon layer of bubblegum pink lipgloss.

"I got a butterfly in the small of my back when I was sixteen, I've always wanted a few more"

"Ye should get ye throat done love, it don't 'urt as much as ye'd..." I stopped suddenly as she brushed her hand against my wrist; letting her manicured fingertips tease my skin a little, before placing a small paper napkin next to my drink.

"I was thinking of getting something on my right thigh" she spoke slowly and at a volume I was sure even dogs would struggle to hear; her lips almost touching my ear as she leant across me to fetch Nicholls empty Coca-Cola can. "My inner, thigh"

I scoffed a little on the loud side, earning a disparing look from Matt alongside an inquisitive one from the blonde, and held a balled fist to my mouth; coughing lightly in an attempt to cover my amusement. The girl pulled herself back upright and I watched a tight pout slowly twist across her lips.

Under normal circumstances I would be jumping in to apologise for my behaviour, showering her with compliments and keeping everything crossed for an invite to join the mile high club. But today was anything but normal and the circumstance we found ourselves in on the plane; who was and even more so, who wasn't aboard, was still enough to make my stomach turn.

She still looked a little hopeful as I ran my fingertip slowly around the rim of my glass and moved my eyes up to meet hers. She still looked hopeful as I knocked back the whisky in one and gave her a sly wink. "Any chance I can get back t' my film now? Ye kind of interupted an' ye know, I got my drink so..."

"You've got everything you wanted from me?" she cut in, her left eyebrow raised uncommonly high upon her forehead and her tongue clicking against her teeth as she waited for my reply.

My answer was a silent shrug of my shoulders and she began muttering something under her breath as I pushed my headphones back into my ears. Nicholls nudged me hard in my side; his elbow colliding awkwardly with my ribs, but I kept my eyes fixed on the television screen.

"Ignore 'im love" I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I caught the beginning of Nicholls embarassed apology. "'s no wrath like tha' of Oliver Sykes scorned"