Chasing Chaos

A/N: For the next two chapters the 2005 part will happen before the 2009 part.

2005

A week after the accident, two days before school was to start back up, I climbed out my bedroom window. I’d been disobeying my parents all summer; what was to stop me then? Certainly not a broken arm and several bruised ribs.

It was Gracie’s idea for me to go to the show. She said that a BMTH gig wouldn’t be the same without me there looking awkward and out of place. She insisted that I break just a few more rules before the summer ended. I was a sucker; I couldn’t say no. Though it didn’t take much to convince me. I was eager to figure out what was going on with Oliver and I. I was beginning to sense a problem.

Oli hadn’t invited me to the gig. In fact, I hadn’t even talked to him since the night he sneaked into my room. No phone calls. No surprise visits. Nothing. And I had to admit it made me a little upset. After the sweet sincerity of his overnight visit, I’d expected some sort of confession or revelation.

But it was foolish of me to anticipate anything at all. I knew from the beginning that there shouldn’t be expectations of this non-relationship. I had done so well playing things by ear. I’d let go and lived without thinking about what it all meant. Because what could it really mean? What would Oli really being doing with me besides passing the time?

“Damn,” Gracie muttered when I got into her car. This was the first time she’d seen me since bidding me farewell at the now infamous part. “Yeh look terrible.”

I looked down at my outfit, forgetting that I still had stitches in my forehead and a cast on my arm. “I thought I looked kinda cute,” I frowned. I’d been very particular with my choice of attire, skipping the typical black t-shirt and opting for a generally Gracie approved striped shirt.

“Yeh clothes are fine.” Gracie rolled her eyes. “I meant yeh face. Yeh proper tore up.”

I let my hair fall across my cheek, hiding the gashes. I felt embarrassed by them, as if they told some terrible secret about me. “Looked worse before… ‘S gettin’ better now.”

Gracie caught my unhappiness and decided not to press. “Good, that’s good.” She sped as she drove, pushing the limits of her falling apart car. She turned the music up louder and I recognized the song as one that Oliver would play, one that he did play regularly. The song reminded me of when he’d driven me to London to see my sister. He had educated me on the fine art of death metal and now it seemed to hit home for me. It struck a chord and in a way reminded me of adventure and chaos. Or something.

When I went places with Gracie, people stared and I was used to it. But when we entered the venue, I got the impression that they were not looking at Gracie for once. It was quite possibly just my self-consciousness but there seemed to be many pairs of eyes on me. Proof of the rumormill Gracie had told me about. I was no longer the quiet girl that kissed Oli Sykes between sets. I was an even bigger conversation piece, the girl Oli Sykes had almost killed in a car accident. I shuttered at the way everyone inched towards me, wanting to ask questions.

“Anna!” Nicholls hugged me before he hugged Gracie, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, as if he was protecting me from prying eyes. For some reason, I was surprised by the sincerity of his worry. “Damn, yeh look for bein’ in a coma.”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shook my head. “I can’t believe the things people’ll say.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” he said, squeezing me. “Yeh scared us though, love. Got us right worried.”

“Well no need. See, I’m fine,” I insisted, pulling back to let him examine me. “Nothin’ to worry about. Nothin’ at all. Jus’ a broken arm, ‘s all.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He gave me another hug before tossing an arm around Gracie. A realization struck me, a lightning bolt epiphany. This is what having friends was like, real friends. These people cared about me, loved me. How had I not noticed?

A little too eager and figuring Nicholls would know, I asked “Yeh seen Oliver?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeh tried the bar? ‘E’s pissed o’ready, the fuckin’ wanker.”

I frowned and scanned the crowd, eyeing the bar in search of Oli. No sign of him and I continued to study the venue. There were so many strangers that when I caught sight of one familiar face, sitting at the merch table, I latched onto the sight. But it wasn’t Oli that I’d spotted. It was Tom and he was already watching me. He looked nervous when I caught him staring but I lifted my hand to wave at him.

Gracie nudged me. “Go talk to ‘im.”

I pulled a face at her but followed her advice, crossing the crowd to where Tom stood in the far corner. I was glad to see him at the gig, if not a little surprised. This was his first one in many months. “Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

“Can I hug yeh?” I asked him because our expressions matched, tired and terrified.

A smile crept across his mouth. “Yeah, absolutely.”

It was good to put my arms around him and I didn’t even think about who was or wasn’t watching. Because I didn’t care. Let them talk. Let them stare. I needed a hug from Tom more than I needed to manage my reputation. I kept my arms locked around his waist and my eyes closed, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. “Thanks,” I said, pulling away.

“Yeah, sure…” His arms flopped back to his sides.

“Surprised to see yeh ‘ere.” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip. It was dry and flaking skin; I chew it slightly.

“It weren’t my idea… Mum made me come.”

“She made yeh?”

He didn’t make eye contact with me. “Tryin’ to get Oli and I to make up. She’s a bit sore at me for… uh…”

“For punchin’ Oli?”

His head hung low, his brows throwing a shadow over his eyes. “’E told yeh?”

Not technically. “Gracie did.”

“’S not as bad as it sounds.”

“Really?” I was certain that he had a good reason for hitting his brother. Tom wasn’t hotheaded like Oli. He was rational.

“I weren’t thinkin’ straight.”

“Right…”

“’E’s jus’ got alotta nerve.”

“Yeah…”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” It sounded a bit sour though that wasn’t my intention.

Tom’s face twisted with distaste and he looked away from me, inspecting the crowded room with his shadowed eyes. I wondered if he was noticing how different this gig was from the one we’d attended at the start of the summer, the gig that had triggered our fight. It was the same hometown venue but nearly twice as many people filled the place. This was a clear indicator of BMTH’s growing fanbase. They were getting bigger, surely Tom noticed it too.

Feeling tense and awkward, I came up with a pathetic excuse to flee. “I’ve gotta go make sure Gracie lays off the sauce. She’s my ride… I’ll see yeh in a bit?” I started away.

He called after me “Anna, hold on—“

“Hmmm?”

“We’re cool, right?” He was worried, scared and I hated that I had planted this fear, that I couldn’t tell him that I was never angry, not really.

“Yeah, o’ course we’re cool.” My teeth sunk into my cracked bottom lip. “It’s jus’ weird, yeh know?”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Will yeh be ‘ere for a while?”

“All night.” He frowned.

“O’reight, I’ll be back. Yeh know to keep yeh company.” There was still something awkward about my offer but it was the best I could do.

“Thanks.”

I smiled and faded into the crowd. I intended to go straight back to Gracie and hide from this situation for just a little bit longer. I was feeling like a coward.

I’d almost made it to Gracie when I caught sight of a thin frame rushing through the crowd, pushing their way past many people in efforts to reach the venue’s side door. Dark hair and tight jeans were my tip-off and a familiar set of tattoos on his arm confirmed it. It was Oli and he was hurrying out of the building. I knew that my wristband would allow me reentry, so I followed him.

I didn’t really want to be inside anyway. A buried shyness had returned and the idea of being in the venue any longer made my skin itch. So I slipped out the side door after Oli and immediately inhaled. The air was thick with moisture and filled my nose with cold. Summer was over. It was raining and someone was puking beside the building. I was not surprised to find that it was Oliver leaning against the wall, heaving.

He heard the door swing shut behind me and he yelled “Oy! Piss off!”

“Uhh… Yeh okay?”

He whipped his head up towards me, surprised to see me standing before him. “Savanna?”

“Yeh okay?” I repeated.

He ignored my concerned questioning. “What’re yeh doin’ ‘ere?”

“I needed some air?” I offered this excuse with a weak stuttered.

He stood up straight and took a step towards me, only to slip in a bit of his vomit and fall into me. “Fuck,” he swore, grabbing my shoulders for balance. “No, I meant what’re yeh doin’ at the gig?”

Holding him around the middle the best that I could, I said “What’d yeh mean what am I doin’ ‘ere? I come to all o’ yeh gigs…”

“But yeh grounded.” His words slid together, a nasty slur.

I laughed at him. “’S not stopped me before.”

His face was grave. “Yeh shouldn’t be ‘ere.”

My smile fell from my lips and I was losing any warmth I had for him. “What’d yeh mean?”

“I didn’t invite yeh.”

I released him, stepping away and allowing him to hold his own weight. “Didn’t know I needed a personal invitation from Oli Sykes to come.”

“Yeh gonna be in trouble, Sav.”

“So?”

He shook his head and raised his hands in the air. “So? So!?” He was shouting then. “So yeh gotta stop it. Right now. Yeh gotta go home… Get away from me.” He was belligerent and I had a hard time believing he’d be able to make it on stage. This made me a little less angry at him.

“Oli, yeh well pissed… Let’s get yeh some water and ‘ve a sit down for a bit, yeah?” I reached for him and he yanked his arm away before I could latch on.

“No… No, leave me alone.”

Confused and dumbfounded, I stared at him. “What the hell is yer problem? I’m jus’ tryin’ to get yeh together before yeh gotta go on stage, Oliver.”

“Well, don’t—I don’t need yeh help.” He’d never talked to me this way, with such hostility. “Now go home.”

“What the—“

The door of the venue opened again and this time a tall blonde with a sizeable chest stumbled out in a pair of stilettos. “Oli? Oli, there yeh are.” She gave him a wide Cheshire grin, teeth white and sharp. I knew the sort of girl she was; I’d seen them at every show I’d ever gone to. She caught sight of me and gave me a calculated smile of my own. “Who’s this?”

Oli looked up at me, determination glinted in his eyes, and he said “Oh, she’s jus’ my little brother’s mate.” And as if he was disgusted by this statement as I was, he leaned over and promptly splashed vomit at my feet. “Oh fuck.”

The blonde looked at me sympathetically. “Aw, sorry, love. Oli ‘ere is proper wasted.”

I glowered. “I noticed.”

--

2009

“I’m sorry I made yeh come,” I told Tom as we idled in the car. He was in the driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel even though we weren’t moving. “I jus’ can’t—“

“Do it by yehself, I know.” He’d been finishing my sentences for me for quite some time and that hadn’t changed.

However, something had changed with us. Maybe it was only temporary but it was apparent. We were each tiptoeing around the other, careful not to say or do the wrong thing. We were apologetic and wistful. If there was any anger in either Tom or I, it was buried deep beneath remorse. Though there were justifiable reasons for a fight, there would not be one.

“Yeh don’t gotta come up or anythin’,” I said. “Ef yeh could jus’, maybe, wait for me?”

“Yeah, o’ course.”

“Thanks.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It probably won’t be long…” Get in and get out; that was my plan. Make it as painless as possible, I thought. But I was deluding myself. This would not be easy. He would put up a fight and I would be glad for him to do it. Though in the end, he would not win the fight. Of that, I was absolutely certain. I would not let him win me over. Because it would be selfish to keep him.

“Good luck, Annie.” Tom had sympathy in his eyes. And I was sure Tom was the only person who felt sorry for me. Aside from myself that is. “I’ll be ‘ere when yeh get back.”

I didn’t say anything else to him before exiting the vehicle, still tempering my words for our relationship’s sake. I climbed from the passenger seat and shut the car door behind me. I’d been to this building so many times in the past few months. It was familiar and safe, like Tom’s flat. I knew the door pass code and let myself in. He was expecting me. I’d called on the way back from Reading, even though it was getting late. He had been confused by my request to come over. The plan had been that he would see me for breakfast Monday morning, the following day, before I left for Birmingham with Katie.

“This can’t be good,” Peter said when he answered the door. “Come in…” Peter knew something was wrong. He’d known for much longer than anyone else had. He’d seen the hints of trouble while we worked together at the shop. But he had not been daring enough to press for an answer. And now he would get his answer. We didn’t get much farther than the door; he had closed it behind us but I waited. “’Ow was it?”

For a moment, I had no idea what he was talking about, as though I hadn’t just spent two days camping. When I realized what he meant, I responded “It was good. Got to see Brand New today.”

“Cool.” He was having a hard time with small talk and I understood the feeling. “Anna… what is it? What’s wrong?”

I’d forgotten everything that I had planned to say to him. My mind had been wiped blank at the sight of Peter’s big brown eyes, wide and worried. It was funny to me the way I’d always relied on someone’s eyes to tell me the truth about them, whether they were an electric blue, a heavy hazel or a warm brown. Right then, Peter’s eyes were the same as they’d been since the day at the park, so undeniably welcoming. How would I turn him away?

“Can we sit down?” I asked.

His expression shifted, worry changed to confusion. “It’s one of those conversations?”

“Peter…”

“Yeh breakin’ up with me,” he said, shock quite apparent.

I didn’t deny his statement and it made my intentions absolutely clear. “Can we jus’, maybe—“

“Yeh breakin’ up with me?” This time it was posed as a question, uncertainty settling into the situation.

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.” I wished that this was my real reason. Because if it were, there would still be hope for us. But there was none.

His face twisted and he said “What? I thought… But we’ve talked about it, Anna. I thought yeh said that yeh were okay with the distance thing. Yeh said we’d make it work.” His mind seemed to have been wiped clean as well, unable to piece the right words into his sentences.

“’S not jus’ that,” I stated. For a minute, I was very concerned that I would not be able to hold my tongue, that I would tell him the whole truth. But I found myself saying “My head’s in a weird place these days. I don’t ‘ave myself together.” I was relieved to find that I was remaining vague.

“What’d yeh mean?”

“I mean that ‘ow am I supposed to be with anyone ef I don’t know what I want?” I was surprised by my insight. It was one hundred percent the truth.

“Yeh don’t know what yeh want?”

I nodded. “I swear it’s not that I don’t want yeh, I do. It’s jus’ that I’m a mess.”

He looked at me with an incredulous glint. “’S not you, it’s me, is it?”

“No!” I heaved but then rethought and softer said “Well, yes… I mean, it’s not about you. It’s about me.”

His lips were pressed together, turning white from the strain and he stared at me. He didn’t look angry. I’d been worried that he would hate me or that his buried bad temper would burst from beneath the surface. But it seemed to me that he was more hurt than anything else. We stood there in the entry way of his flat for a very long minute and a half before he said anything. “Ef I ask yeh somethin’, will yeh be honest with me? I think I deserve that.”

I hoped he wouldn’t ask if the break up was inspired by anyone else. Because he deserved honesty and I wouldn’t be able lie. “Yes. I’ll be honest.” I would have crossed my fingers if it wouldn’t have seemed so silly.

“Is it because o’ Tom?” His question was sincere.

“What?”

“I saw Tom’s car out the window. ‘E brought yeh ‘ere.”

“Right…”

“I’d not be surprised ef yeh wanted to be with ‘im. It’d make a lotta sense.”

“Tom an’ I? Together?” I was dumbfounded. Did Peter honestly think this was about Tom? Granted, most things in my life had at least a little to do with Tom.

“Anna, yeh know that it’s not really so silly to think and I’m not sure why yeh o’ways so surprised when someone brings it up. Anyone can see that yeh love ‘im.”

“O’ course I love ‘im. Tom’s my best friend.”

Peter just shook his head and sighed. “I jus’ want the truth. I jus’ want to know what’s goin’ on with yeh. I thought that we… I thought that we ‘ad somethin, yeh know? I want to know why yeh not even givin’ us a chance. I jus’ ‘ave to assume it’s about ‘im.”

“Peter, I told yeh, this is about me.” This was the truth. “An’ I gotta get myself sorted before I do anything else… with anyone.” This was true too.

“So what then, Anna? What about after yeh sorted?”

“I don’t think I can think that far ahead.” I hated that way he looked, disappointed and disillusioned. His charming happiness was completely dissolved. “I’m sorry.”

He studied me, an impossibly serious look on his face. “Then why are yeh doin’ this?”

“Because it’s not fair to yeh to have a girlfriend that isn’t all there. Yeh deserve better than that.”

He let out a weakly amused laugh. “’S funny hearin’ yeh say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I deserve better…”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because this whole time, the past few months, I’ve been thinkin’ that yeh deserve so much better than me. I mean, yeh friends are fuckin’ rockstars and what am I? I work two jobs an’ still don’t ‘ave any money, I never talk yeh any place, I’ve a daughter—“

“I love Em,” I said before he could finish his thought. I would not have him believe anything different.

“But it’s not exactly the most desirable trait in a bloke.”

“Why would yeh say that? Peter, the way yeh love Em, the way yeh’d do anythin’ for ‘er… That’s yer best bloody trait.” We were still standing face to face by the door and wishing to comfort him in some way, I reached up and touched his cheek. “Yeh a good man.”

“Not good enough apparently.”

I pulled my hand away and said “Don’t be like that, okay? Yeh jus’ makin’ this harder.” I backed up against the door, feeling anxious and ready to leave.

He looked at me with more intent, determination. “Savanna, listen for a min—“

“Yeh called me Savanna.” It sounded very strange having this name come from someone else’s mouth.

“Yeh name’s Savanna, ain’t it?” He didn’t understand why I felt protective of this name.

“Yeah, but… I didn’t even know yeh knew my real name.”

“What’d yeh mean? O’ course I know that yeh name is Savanna.”

I tried to keep my mouth from curving into a frown, from being too obvious. I shook myself off and said “I’ve to go. I’ve a lot of packin’ to do before tomorrow.”

“So that’s it? Yeh jus’ walkin’ away?” There was a vague anger in him, not heated enough to explode but bubbling inside.

“I ‘ave to.”

“No, yeh don’t.” He wrapped his big hand around my wrist, holding it like a piece of porcelain. “Yeh can stay. As long as yeh want.”

I wanted to stay. But I didn’t. I slipped my wrist from his grip and reached for the door. “I’m sorry, Peter.” I didn’t wait to see his face, fearing the disappointment sure to be there. I fled out of the flat before he could say another word, before he could persuade me to stay. He closed the door behind me, the thump echoing in the stairwell as I descended the two flights.

On the street, I gnawed the inside of my lip and ran to the car. Tom was still there, waiting just as he said he would be. Out of breath and holding back my struggling feelings, I flung the door open and pushed myself inside. I buried my face into my hands and curled my legs up to meet my chest. Don’t cry, don’t cry, I begged myself. The plea helped; I avoided tears.

“Anna? Anna, love…” Tom nudged me with a careful hand.

Shaking my head, I said “Can we jus’ drive for awhile? Anywhere, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah, o’ course we can.” He turned the key in the ignition and shifted into drive without even pausing.

I pressed my forehead to the window glass and stared at the city streets as we drove. I couldn’t remember why I’d come back to Sheffield for the summer. I hadn’t needed to; I could have just as easily stayed in Birmingham like the previous summer. But Sheffield had been calling to me. Something had been tugging on me, telling me to return home. There were ghosts lingering in my head, the whispers of a past life. “God,” I spoke. “Why’d I come back ‘ere?” It was rhetorical, for the most part.

Tom’s head tilted towards me slightly. “What?”

“Sheffield is fuckin’ poisonous. There’s nothin’ ‘ere for me but trouble.” My grumble was as melodramatic as usual. Normally Tom would roll his eyes at my exaggeration and then tell me I was being silly. But he was dead quiet, staring straight ahead at the road. “Oh Tom, I didn’t mean—“

“I know.” He answered quickly, too quickly. I’d hurt his feelings.

I finished my thought, hoping it would help make him feel less offended. “Tom, I didn’t mean yeh; yer the best part of Sheffield. I jus’ meant that it were a mistake comin’ ‘ere this summer… This place makes me mental.” I sighed and picked a piece of lint from his hooded jacket. “But fuck, I don’t want to go back to Birmingham either.”

“Yeh don’t?”

“Not really. I don’t feel right there either.” I cross my arms over my chest and tried to understand why I didn’t fit anywhere. “Not that I don’t like it there. ‘S not bad at all. An’ I’ve friends an’ a life an’… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothin’s wrong with yeh. Yeh jus’ confused.”

“Fuckin’ right I’m confused.” I pressed my palms to my forehead and brushed my hair back, wanting to rip it right from my head. At this point, something else clicked in my mind, not exactly relevant to the situation at hand but somewhat related. A conclusion was reached and I spoke it aloud. “I don’t want to study law anymore.”

The car slowed, creeping to a halt at a stop sign. He didn’t move forward, instead he turned to me. “What?” Disbelief was his primary emotion.

“I never did.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know why I even started. I never wanted to be a solicitor.”

“I know.”

“I hate all my courses and all the people in my courses. I don’t want to be one o’ them. I don’t want to waste my life doin’ somethin’ I can’t stand.” This was the first time I’d ever verbalized this, though everyone already knew it was true. It felt good to say it. It was liberating. “But it’s too fuckin’ late. I’ve o’ready got two fuckin’ years behind me… one more bloody year and I’m done.”

“Well what d’yeh wanna do instead?”

“Honestly? I wanna go on an extended holiday. Maybe an indefinite holiday. To anywhere.” I wanted to disappear into an unfamiliar settling. I wanted to start over. “Let’s do it, Tommy.”

“Do what? Go on an indefinite holiday?”

“Aye. I don’t think anyone would be surprised ef yeh an’ me ran off together.”

“No, probably not.” He shot me a goofy sort of grin.

“We could go to a beach somewhere… I need a sunny day.” The overcast skies were really bringing me down. “It’d be just us. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

His hand slipped across the empty space between us and he reached for my hand. I met him in the middle and threaded my fingers through his. “Very.”

I found myself wishing that we would really do this. “Would yeh really go?”

“Ef yeh wanted me to… But I know that yeh don’t actually want to leave. Yeh jus’ ‘avin’ a hard time right now an’ runnin’ away seems like a good idea. It’s not.”

“I know.”

He grasped my hand a little tighter and said “I promise yeh that things will get better. Maybe not right now but it’ll happen.”

Still slightly histrionic, I said “Well what ef they don’t get better?”

“Then I swear that we’ll go on an indefinite holiday.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Even if things between Tom and I were slightly strained due to some long untold bit of information, he was still the best friend I ever had and ever would have. Showing my affection for him, I leaned over and laid my head on his shoulder. I’d never met anyone so perfect.