Chasing Chaos

2009

By the time Peter had picked up the pizza and called me, Oli and I had both followed Tom into the land of drunken unconsciousness. When my phone chimed through with the Joy Division song She’s Lost Control, the ringtone I’d assigned to Peter, I was curled up into a dress-tangling knicker-exposing ball and Oli was stretched out beside me. His legs were propped onto the arm of the couch, pressing against me and trapping me in the corner. “Ello?” I croaked groggily.

“Awe, was yeh sleepin’, love?” Peter asked softly.

“Uh huh…”

“I’m on my way.”

“’Kay… Doors unlocked, I think. Ef it is, knock.”

“O’reight. See yeh in a few minutes.”

“Hmm’kay.” I dropped the phone back onto my lap. Oli groaned and turned, pushing his foot into my side. I couldn’t find the energy to remove him from me and there was no easy way to fix my dress so that it covered my bum fully. So I didn’t budge. Drunk logic at its best. I just leaned back into the sofa and closed my eyes.

I felt as though I’d barely closed them when I heard Peter coming into the flat. I shuffled around quickly; Oli’s legs slid to the floor with a thud. He let out a grumble just as Peter came into the living room, two boxes in hand. I grinned. “O’reight?” He greeted. “Yeh lot look knackered,” he observed. “Especially this’un.” He pointed to Tom.

Oli and I both looked to Tom, shrugging at the sight. Directly at Peter, I smiled.

He responded to my affectionate gesture with “’Ow yeh feelin’?”

“Tired.”

“I’d imagine so.”

I inched to the edge of the sofa and rubbed my temples. “Need to wake Tom up,” I mumbled.

“Can I put this in the kitchen? Maybe find some plates?” Peter asked and both the just-waking-up Oli and I nodded in silent agreement. Peter disappeared.

“Forgot ‘e were comin’,” Oli muttered.

I was reaching out to Tom on the near by chair, nudging his shoulder and whispering “Lovey…” I proded hm again and he stirred. “Come on, Tommy, we’ve nomnoms. Up up up.”

“’M not hungry,” he grunted with his eyes still closed.

“Yeh need to eat.”

“I need to sleep,” he slurred.

“Yeh can’t sleep; we’ve more partyin’ to do.”

His eyes opened slowly, bloodshot and bright blue. “I can’t…”

I slid onto the floor beside his chair. “Yes, yeh can. Yeh can do it, birthday boy.”

“My stomach hurts…”

“Eatin’ll help.” I rested my head against his leg. “Gotta sober up.”

“But I’m piss drunk,” he offered.

“Me too,” I said as Oli let out a sigh. “Oli is too. Prob’ly Kean and Lee as well. They were still at the club.”

Tom then seemed to realize that he was at home. “Fuck, when’d we get ‘ere? ‘Ow’d we get ‘ere? Last I remember, Kean’d bought me a shot o’ Absinthe…”

“Tha were nearly three hours ago,” Oli interjected.

“Damn,” Tom said, inspecting a few stains on his shirt. “Wha ‘ave I got on me?”

Peter had reentered the room and replied “Looks like vomit, mate.”

Tom shook his head certainly. “No, I’ve not had a sick yet,” he said, very sure of himself.

I pat his knee maternally. “Oh, sweetie, but yeh ‘ave… Right outside in the grass. Yeh were out there for awhile too.”

“Well, fuck,” he stated.

“Might wanna showered,” Oli suggested half heartedly.

Tom prepared to stand, thinking of something else. “Did Evie ever show up at the club?”

I frowned. “No, she didn’t…”

Tom rolled his eyes and began to get up. I assumed he’d done it too fast because he fell right back down into the chair. “Damnit.”

With some degree of difficulty, I got up from the floor and held my arms out for Tom. “O’reight let’s go get yeh clean. Ef I get yeh as far as the bathroom, can yeh handle showerin’?”

Reluctantly, he responded “I think so.” He reached for me and I helped to pull him up. He stumbled but I held his waist. Staggering, we walked around the furniture, passing Peter in the doorway.

I smiled and leaned towards him. “Thanks,” I said. “Yer the best, yeh know.”

Peter nodded. “I know.” He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth.

“Be right back.”

“O’reight.”

Tom and I slowly hobbled our way to the toilet. I gripped his hips, leading the way with his arms around my shoulders. Nearly there Tom loudly expressed “I love yeh, Annie.”

“Love yeh too, Tommy.”

“Yer my best mate,” he continued.

“An’ yer mine.”

“’S been nice ‘avin yeh around this summer,” he hugged me tighter. “’S like old times.”

“Aye…”

“Don’t go back to Birmingham.”

I laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’ve to go back.”

“It’s not silly. I know yeh don’t want to be a bloody solicitor. So wha’s the point in studying law?”

“Wha’d’yeh mean I don’t wanna be a solicitor? I wouldn’t be going to school for it ef I didn’t…”

His sharp sad eyes stared at me knowingly.

But I changed the topic. “O’reight, go on. I’ll go get yeh some clean clothes… ef yeh get in the shower, I’ll lay ‘em on yer bed.”

“Okay, I think I can do that…”

I slowly let go of him. “Good luck.”

He smiled a goofy grin and said “Thanks.”

I let him go into the bathroom alone and I went to his bedroom, tripping over a pair of trainers as I entered. There were half-packed suitcases spilling clothing and a collection of DVDs spread across his floor. In a collage on his wall were photographs he’d taken. I’d helped him fashion this collage, so I’d carefully avoided having too many pictures of me included. Of course, Tom had managed to weasel in a couple with me included. One was a picture of Gracie and I after the previous year’s Leeds Festival. We were tired and disheveled but smiling brightly. I had my own copy of this photo in a picture frame that rested at my desk. The second photo in the collage featured only me. It was an older picture; I was probably sixteen at most. It was taken on the street my parents lived and I was standing in the road with my hands over my face.

I found myself smiling about the pictures as I placed a new pair of trousers on his bed along with a fresh t-shirt and clean boxers. I felt much endeared to him in that moment; probably all the liquor enhancing love.

I laid the clothes nearly before leaving. I was already sobering up; I didn’t have to hold onto anything to make it to the living room. When I arrived I triumphantly announced “Success!” But no one responded. I looked at the scene to find both Oli and Peter standing at rigid attention, flowering at one another. “Eh?” I sounded but they didn’t look away from each other. It was some primitive alpha male thing. “Oy!” I called. “Wha’s happened?”

Through gritted teeth, Oli said “Nothin.”

“Bullocks,” I spit in disbelief.

“’S nothin’, Anna,” Peter loosened, finally looking at me. “I think ‘m goin’ home for awhile,” he spoke slowly.

“Wha? Why? You’ve just got ‘ere.”

“I’m not welcome ‘ere.”

“Says who?” I demanded.

“Me,” Oli said flatly.

With my mouth open, I stared at Oli, surprised. “But e’s brought food?”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Peter insisted.

“Peter…”

“I’ll be back later when more people are ‘ere.” He was walking towards the door and I was following listlessly.

When Oli was out of ear shot, I implored “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“I can’t be ‘ere with jus’ the drunken sod.”

“So yer leavin’?”

Peter looked guilty. “I’ve to. ‘E pushes my buttons an’ I don’t wanna get angry ‘round yeh.”

“Oh… Okay… I’ve to stay ‘ere, yeh know.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” I stated.

“’S not yer fault.”

“Will yeh please fill me in later though?” I asked. “I think ‘ve missed something major about yeh an’ Oliver.” I was grave, not liking that there were things I didn’t know.

“I’ll fill yeh in ef yeh really wanna know…” We stopped at the top of the stairs.

“I wanna know.”

“O’reight.”

“See yeh back soon?”

“Aye… Sorry, Annie.”

“I’m sorry I put yeh in the situation.”

He wryly smiled and kissed me in a brief manner. “’S fine,” he assured before descending the steps.

I stomped back into the flat, making for the kitchen where Oli was chewing on a piece of pizza. I made my entrance known to him, by glaring venomously.

“Oh, let up, Sav,” Oli rolled his eyes. “’S not as bad as ‘e made it seem.” Though, I would assume the worst.

“Then wha was it?”

“Ef ‘e was goin’ to be a wanker, I don’t’ want ‘im slobbin’ about the place like e’s important.”

I found that I wasn’t so much angry as I was torn. “Oli, ‘e’s important to me.”

“I know that,” Oli hummed quietly. “But we’ve not the best history, me an’ ‘im.”

“Yeh can’t look past it for one bloody day?”

“’S hard.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Someone really needs to tell me the truth about all this.”

“Yeh mean ‘e ‘asn’t?” Oli looked surprised.

“No.”

“Oh, I assumed…”

“I don’t ask for anything from yeh usually, Oli… So maybe yeh could jus’ tell me wha yer problem with my—my—with Peter is.”

Oli finished chewing his food and he looked at me sincerely. He had become softer, not as harsh about the matter. “I done something pretty pants to ‘is sister… I’ll admit that fault.”

“Wha’d yeh do?”

“She thought… I mean… She was a pretty lil’ bird, bout yer age I think and she fell right hard and I fucked ‘er over then Peter got a bit testy ‘bout it.”

“Testy?”

“’E broke my nose and busted my mouth up.”

I recalled hearing of Oli getting into such a fight, a little less than two years before. Eyes wise, I responded “Tha were Peter?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “That’uns got a bit o’ a temper. It weren’t pretty… But I deserved it,” he admitted this freely. He had no sense of shame and I doubt he really regretted anything.

“So…” My hand was still planted firmly at my hip. “Wha was ‘at a minute ago in the other room?”

“It were nothin’…”

“Bullocks.”

“E’s still a bit sore with me,” Oli said, picking up a second slice of the pizza Peter had bought. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to complete his response. “An’ apparently ‘e don’t trust me around yeh,” he added this very casually. It made me feel hazier, drunker and confused.

“Don’t trust yeh with me?” I repeated.

“Aye, thinks I’m some sort of sleazy swindler or summat.”

The way he said it was sort of cool and relaxed, a way that couldn’t possibly make me feel bitter or dejected any longer. So in a fairly joking manner I said “Well seems ‘e got it dead on. Yer the sleaziest o’ all swindlers.”

He thankfully caught my joking and laughed. “Well, o’ course. But ‘e don’t gota worry ‘bout me sleazin’ and swindlin’ yeh.” Because he already had. “Because yeh’ve wised up and found Peter, who suits yeh.”

“Yeh really think ‘e suits me?” This was an unusual statement.

“I do… ‘E’s got a bit o’ a temper. But so long as e’s not takin’ it out on yeh, ‘s not a problem. ‘E’s a nice enough bloke.”

“Really? Wow… Thanks, Oli.”

“Not sayin’ I wanna be around ‘im. ‘E’s still a fuckin’ wanker.”

I shook my head. “Yeh make no sense, mate.”

“I don’t gotta make sense… Not after all the booze. Yer lucky ‘m even speakin’ English right now.”

--

2005

“Is this okay?” Oli asked. He had adjusted our position so that his arms were curved around me and I was lying against his bare chest. My whole body felt strange, like maybe my insides were shaking. Or maybe they were burning. I didn’t speak. What could I say? “Sav?” He looked down at me with eager eyes. “Was tha… o’reight?”

I nodded. “Yeah… Absolutely.”

Some strange nervous twinge accented his expression. “Are yeh sure? I’m sorry ef—“

“’S all good, Oli,” I affirmed, still troublingly smoldering. I pressed into him closer, trying to tell him that I was not upset, that I was totally cool with everything.

But he didn’t buy it. “I jus’ wanna make sure tha’ I didn’ hurt yeh or nothin’.”

Very coolly, I responded “Yeh didn’ hurt me. I promise.” It struck me that I should be the one freaking out and he the calm collected one. After all, he was the pro.

“I mean, it were yeh first time—and, I, uhh—“

“Can we talk about something else?” I asked. Talking about it ruined my buzz and the buzz was nice. It wasn’t like the numbest I’d hoped for. But it wasn’t bad. The burning of my insides was a pleasant enough hurt, like the feeling of snapping a rubber band against your skin. And with the flames in my blood, I’d forgotten everything. I couldn’t even remember how to be empty because I was so filled with fire.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Wha’d’yeh wanna talk about?”

“I dunno.” I shrugged. “Anything.”

“Let’s talk about… uh… school,” he offered.

“School? Yer not even school anymore…”

“But yeh are. Tell me about school.”

“Oh, uh, I’m going to Hillsborough in September.”

“Doin’ Art?” He asked.

“I dunno…”

“Yeh don’t know?”

“No. I ‘ave no clue wha’ I want to do. I’ve kinda thought ‘bout goin’ into law, like my Dad.”

“Really? Don’ yeh gotta follow the laws to be in law?” He cheekily asked.

I laughed a little. “Prob’ly. I could do that, I guess. ‘M not a very good troublemaker anyway.” I looked up and into his eyes. “Not like yeh are anyhow.”

“’S really the only thing ‘m good for,” he mumbled.

“I don’t think I believe that. Yer good at loads o’ other stuff,” I told him reassuringly.

Curiously, he asked “Oh, aye? Like?”

“The whole band thing. Yeh seem to do that pretty well.”

“Yeh think?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Sometimes, I don’t think anyone believes in us,” he said very seriously. “They don’t think we can do it. We’re gonna fuckin’ do it though, promise yeh that,” he confidently asserted.

Meekly, I said “I think yeh can do it. I believe in yeh.”

His hand twitched against my arm and he pressed me closer. “I really hope someone does,” was the last thing he said before we got very quiet and still.

Then the rest was just breathing sounds and searing skin.

Then the rest was just blissful burning, complete ignorance of memory.

Then the rest was just me and him.

There wasn’t anything else.