Chasing Chaos

2009

I pounded on the flat door. “Tommy! Yeh ain’t sleepin’ this late!” I called, switching my purse from one shoulder to the other. “Tom!” I groaned and pulled my mobile out to text him, knocking on the door briefly once more before sending him ‘where are you’. I had specifically told him I’d be over after my interview at the bookstore. I leaned on the door frame and sat a plastic bag on the ground. As I had intended, I’d brought several different cleaning supplies with me. Tom had laughed when I’d told him my intentions but he didn’t mind.

I’d almost given up on Tom answering the door when it opened. It wasn’t Tom and I briefly wondered if Oli ever wore trousers when he was home, because I hadn’t seen him in any. “Mornin’,” I greeted as he let me in, stepping out of the way. He grunted in response. “Where the hell is yer lousy bruv?” I looked around. No Tom.

“Dunno.” He rubbed his eyes.

“’E’s not ‘ere?” I asked.

“Guess not.”

“Wanka. ‘E knew I’d be ‘ere. I told ‘im ‘bout my interview, tha’ I’d be ‘ere after…. Sorry to wake yeh. I ‘aven’t woken Matt too, ‘ave I?”

He shook his head. “’E sleeps like the dead.”

I slid my shoes off and tossed my bag on the ground. “I’ve brought bagels from my house, if yer hungry. Mum buys ‘em in fuckin’ bulk and I know Tom likes ‘em…”

“O’reight.” He was a little disoriented by my morning cheerfulness.

My phone vibrated in my hand. ‘On my way back from Evie’s in a bit’ the text read.

“Oh. Wow,” I said to my phone.

“Wha?” Oli looked over my shoulder at the phone.

“I didn’ know ‘e were back with Evie…”

“’E is?” Oli too was uninformed.

I held up the phone so he could have a closer inspection at what it said.

Oli just smirked. “Nice.”

I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen to put the food I’ve brought with me on the table.
Evie was Tom’s on-off girlfriend. She was generally fairly innocuous. The only reason for their frequent separations was Tom’s absences. It was hard on her; she had a dependent sort of disposition. Not that I was one to talk. But she cared about him very deeply and for that she was alright by me usually. I just wished she could decide upon whether they were together or not. It caused Tom a lot of grief when she couldn’t handle things. And I hated to see him hurt.

I grabbed my bag of cleaning supplies, starting towards the bathroom which needed the most attention.

“Wha’s all that?” Oli asked, still hanging around nearby.

“’Ave yeh seen this place? ‘S a mess.”

Oli looked around and shrugged. “’S not that bad.”

“Uh huh. ‘Ow’d yeh expect to bring girls back ‘ere with it like this?”

“None of ‘em ever complained before.” But I could tell that he was considering the idea.
I just shook my head and continued walking. I picked a hooded sweater up from the floor and slung it over my arm. Immediately following the sweater, I came upon two red plastic cups. This would be harder than I thought. Their flat looked like a permanent party had been raging since they moved in. But I doubted that, they’d only moved in a few months before and they were not always there. They were just slobs.

I didn’t really mind though. Cleaning was alright with me. Maybe because it made me feel like I was taking care of Tom a little bit. He’d spent the better part of a decade picking up my mental messes so it wouldn’t hurt to pick up his flat messes.

--

I was humming along to my iPod and wiping up the sink when Oliver appeared in the bathroom beside me. I pulled my headphones from my ears. “D’yeh haveta pee?” I asked, looking up at him.

Though he was still in his boxers, he’d put on a shirt, much to my relief. His eyes did not meet mine directly, instead they darted around the bathroom. He looked almost nervous. “No, was wonderin’ ef yeh wanted to smoke a spliff with me…”

Curiously, I tilted my head. “Now?”

“I suppose, yeah. Consider it payment for yer cleanin’.”

It had been quite awhile since I’d smoked. My Birmingham friends didn’t have the same love of green that my Sheffield friends did. I slowly nodded. “O’reight, sure.”

“Aye?” He questioned, his voice raising in pitch. He looked a little surprised by this. Like he had expected me to pass up the opportunity to get high.

“Sure,” I said again. Why was he looking at me like I had something stuck in my teeth? I stood, sitting my sponge down and wiping my hands across my jeans. Oli still stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and turning to leave. He was making me feel kind of uncomfortable. Was this how he’d been acting towards me all the time the past four years? I tried to remember but couldn’t come up with an answer. I had the habit of blocking our interactions from my mind. Dwelling would lead to bad things.

We went to the living room, which was still frustratingly untidy by my standards. He took a seat on the sofa and I decided against sitting with him. It was already pushing our limits to be hanging out without supervision. I sat in the armchair, within reach of him. I watched as he stuck a joint in his mouth. His hair was messy, dirty and falling in his eyes. His face was scruffy and unshaven, though it did nothing to eliminate his boyish quality. Just then, I could almost remember why I’d had such a crush on him. He was bloody adorable.

“’Ow’s, uh, school?” He asked while lighting the end of the joint.

“’S good… Can’t wait to be done.”

He took a long drag, held it in for a long moment before blowing it out and saying “Yeh only got a year left, yeah?” He passed it off to me.

“Yeah, two more terms.” I took my own hit. The smoke was harsh and it took a lot for me to hold back a cough. I always felt mortified when that happened. Like an amateur.

“Wha’re yeh doin’ once yer finished? Stayin’ in Birmingham?”

“Oh, I dunno… Depends, I guess.”

“On?”

“Where I get a job. I prob’ly won’t know ‘til the spring wha’ I’m doin’.”

“D’yeh wanna stay there?”

“I like it there o’reight… I wouldn’ mind.”

“Yeh got a lot of mates down there?”

“In Brum?”

“Aye.”

“I’ve got a few… Not as many as ‘ere. Got more friends that are girls, for sure.”

“Yeh never did get along with the lasses too well.”

“’At’s ‘cause I was o’ways with the fellas. The girls at Hillsborough thought I was a fuckin’ slut or summat. ‘Cept Gracie, I guess.”

“Jealous, they were.”

“Prob’ly.” I shrugged as I was handed the joint once more. “My Brummie gals got nothin’ to be jealous over.”

“Yeh don’t go ‘round with blokes there?”

“Not really. Not like I do ‘ere. None o’ ‘em are as wicked cool as my Shef boys. An’ Tommy’d throw a fit ef I replaced ‘im.”

“I don’ think yeh’d ever replace ‘im… Yeh two are attached at the bloody hip.”

“I love tha’ boy…” I mumbled, handing over the spliff.

“’E thinks pretty well o’ yeh too… Misses yeh like mad when yer gone. Talks about yeh all the time.”

I smiled fondly, starting to feel a body buzz already. “’E’s absolutely perfect.”

Oli looked a little strangled by this, like he was struggling to come up with words. “Are yeh… are the two of yeh…” He didn’t want to finish the thought, whatever it was.

“What?”

“Are yeh…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. The sound of the door opening came. Tom was back.

“Birds!” Tom exclaimed. “I don’t fucking understand ‘em. None o’ ‘em.” Then very loudly, he sniffed. He stepped in the living room to see us both, wonky eyed and actually in the same room for once. “Gettin’ a lot of tidyin’ done?” He asked me with an amused expression.

“I’ve barely started,” I admitted. “Wha’d Evie do this time to make yeh say yeh don’ understand birds?”

“We ‘ad a nice fuckin’ night last night and then this morning she’s on about me leavin’ again and then when I texted yeh, she ‘bout lost it. I don’ understand why we can’t jus’ have a week o’ fuckin’ peace.” And without taking a breath, he added “Yeh gonna pass that, Ol?”

Oli smirked and passed the dwindling joint to his brother. “Don’t get all twisted ‘bout it; she’ll be over it sooner or later.”

“She ain’t ever over it,” Tom said sourly before taking a hit.

“Aw, Tommy,” I frowned. “Come ‘ere, love.” I motioned my hands, holding my arms out. He tried to hide a grin as he stepped over to me.

“I’ll crush yeh…” He warned.

But I pat my lap anyway. “Tom,” I said sweetly and he sat on my legs. He was heavy but I endured it, wrapping my arms around his middle. “She loves yeh. She’s jus’ confused.”

“Well, I’m bleedin’ confused.”

I took the joint from Tom’s hand and pushed it to my lips before passing it on. “It’ll work out.” I pressed my cheek to his side and he put his arms around me tighter.

What would this look like to someone watching us, I wondered. Something very different than someone who knew us saw. Oli knew us. Knew that this closeness was not what it seemed. Right?

--

2005

I knocked on the door of the Sykes’ house. I’d walked all the way from my house in the dreary Sheffield drizzle. I had to resort to this measure after Tom wouldn’t answer the phone; even after several days, he was still angry with me and I couldn’t take it. Our small skirmish at the club had resulted in an all out screaming match outside, followed by the silent treatment all the way home. It was somewhat understandable that he was a little miffed still but I was over it. Ready to move past it. Though apparently he wasn’t. I’d already quite possibly exceeded the number of calls deemed appropriate for such events. I was going absolutely mental.

I waited eagerly for someone to come to the door. My shoes were squishy from the water collecting in them and my hair was in a fuzzy mess of a ponytail on the top of my head. I didn’t care; I just wanted Tom to talk to me again. But of course, he wasn’t the one to answer the door.

“Savanna?” Oliver said in surprise. “Wha’re yeh doin’?”

“’E won’t pick up when I ring,” I said despondently. “’E’s never been mad this long.”

Oli rubbed the back of his neck. “’E’s not ‘ere right now.”

My eyes widened and then closed. I sighed. I was a total moron. “Where’s ‘e gone?”

“To Manchester with Mum… to see Gran,” Oli explained with an apologetic murmur. “’Ow’d yeh get ‘ere?”

“Walked.”

“Walked? Are yeh mental? ‘S been pourin’ all day!”

“Aye, I've soggy trainers now.” I smiled grimly. “I better start back if I wanna be home before my Mum is… I’m not actually supposed to be out of the house. Grounded, I am.” I turned a shoulder away, intending to leave.

“Yeh aren’t walkin’ back,” he stated surely.

“I haveta.”

“I’ll drive yeh,” he offered.

“Oh, ta… but I can’t… I’ll get yer car all wet; I’m soaked.”

“Don’t be daft. I’ll get yeh some dry clothes. An’ some tea. Mum would beat me if she knew I let yeh off in the rain.”

“No worries, I’ll be fine. I was an idiot for comin’ in the first place. Not like ‘e would ‘ave talked to me anyway.”

“Savanna, jus’ come in the bleedin’ house.”

“No, I—“

He grabbed my wrist and tugged. “’S my fuckin’ fault the sod is angry with yeh. Jus’ let me make it up to yeh.” He pulled me into the house, dropping my arm after he’d shut the door.

I rubbed my wrist. It didn’t really hurt but he had been rather forceful.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to hurt yeh… But really, I couldn’ let yeh stay out in the rain.”

“’S fine,” I muttered.

“You start the tea an’ I’ll get some clothes?” He said, knowing I knew just as well as he did where everything in the kitchen was. So I nodded, sliding my shoes and socks off in the hallway so I didn’t track water and mud all over the house. Oli disappeared up the stairs. I guess he was feeling guilty about encouraging my drinking the weekend before. I doubted he would have been quite so hospitable otherwise.

I went to the kitchen and began making the tea. I almost expected Tom to yell from the living room that he wanted loads of sugar, though I already knew that. It pained me when I didn’t actually hear this. It was strange how hurt I was without Tom. I’d never realized how attached to him I was. I relied so much on his presence that I was a little lost by myself. It was like suddenly planting myself in alternate universe. Everything looked the same but felt so different, so wrong.

“Yer real busted up ‘bout this, aren’ yeh?” Oli said when he entered the room with a small pile of clothes in his arms.

I looked at him and sighed. “I don’ really ‘ave any’un else… ‘E’s my best mate.” I frowned, feeling a little vulnerable with stinging eyes. I really really didn’t want to cry in front of Oli. But my eyes were telling me it was inevitable. “I… I d-don’ w-want ‘im to h-hate me,” I sputtered, giving up my fight against blubbering. My shoulders hunched forward, shaking with sudden sobs. It was embarrassing and ugly but I couldn’t help it. I’d been a miserable mess all week and would continue to be it seemed. My breathing became labored as the tears got worse. My nose was clogging with snot and I was drooling on myself. I wiped my face with my sleeve. “S-sorry.” But trying to talk was a mistake because it just sounded like a whimper. I choked on my breath, starting to hyperventilate. I didn’t even want to look at Oli. I couldn’t even imagine the level of freaked out he was. Thinking about that made me feel even worse, resulting in another wave of sobs.

To my surprise, I heard Oli say “Savanna?” And I finally peered at him. He’d put the clothes down and stepped closer; he was deliberating on what he should do next. He put his arms out uncertainly and I didn’t even care to hesitate myself. I just let him hug me. He was rigid for a moment, patting my shoulder mechanically. But within an instant, we both relaxed. Soon, I was gripping his shirt and he was rubbing my back gently. My crying lessened and he warmed, less awkward. “Jus’ breathe,” he whispered. And it was actually comforting. Oli, the rebel king, was being nice to me, being sweet and genuinely caring. Maybe it was in an older brother sort of way but it sufficed.

When I was calm, I pulled away, breathing deeply. “Sorry… The only person to see me cry like that ‘s T-Tom.” It was difficult to keep my composure while saying his name. But for Oli’s sake, I did my best. “I ‘ope ‘e doesn’ hate me.”

He let his arms fall away from me and shook his head. “’E doesn’. Couldn’ hate yeh ef ‘e tried.”

“But ‘e won’t talk to me.”

“’E’s a fuckin’ wanker.”

“But ‘e’s my best friend.”

“Doesn’ mean ‘e isn’t a fuckin' arsehole.”

I laughed a little and wiped my cheek with my sleeve again. “Yeah…”

Oli and stared at each other for a weird second before he swished his hair out of his face and said “Got yeh some o’ my clothes… jus’ a shirt an’ some shorts… might be big.”

“Prob’ly not… I gotta alota hips.” I scooped the clothes from the counter.

“I’ll find yeh a clean sweater in the laundry. Didn’ ‘ave any en my room. All o’ ‘em smelled like beer.”

“Thanks, Oli, really…” I tried to give him my best grateful smile. “I’m sorry about… Sorry I did that jus’ now. I jus’—“

“’S o’reight, Savanna. Jus’ don’ do it again.” He smirked.

“I’ll try.” My face felt flushed from the way he was smiling at me. It didn’t much align with the older brother vibe I had been thinking he was sending. Maybe that hadn’t been the vibe. Maybe it was something different.

“Yeh want sugar?”

“Eh?”

“In yer tea?”

“Oh, aye, jus’ a bit. Thanks…” I left the room, still blushing a bit. I felt like I was naked in front of the whole city; I was beyond embarrassed. After this, I was pretty sure I would never be able to face Oli Sykes. No, scratch that, I may never be able to face anyone. Never leaving the house again seemed like a good plan. I was horrified. My volatile hormones were clearly plotting against me.

I put on Oli’s clothes. My knickers were slightly wet from the rain but nothing I couldn’t live with. He’d been wrong, like I’d anticipated; the clothes were not too big. The shirt was a small and fit snuggly against my chest. Tight clothes still made me a bit uncomfortable. Actually, the fact that I had larger than average boobs made me uncomfortable. At least the basketball shorts he’d lent were a bit baggy, just barely staying put on my hips. Once in the new clothes, I didn’t look quite so much like a drowned rat. The hair was unavoidably awful and my face was red and splotchy from crying. I supposed it could have been worse; I could have been wearing makeup.

Back in the kitchen Oli had my cup at a place setting on the table. It seemed an odd coincidence to me that he’d picked out my favorite of all the Sykes’ mugs. It was green with little snowmen across the bottom and had an unusual shaped handle. I wasn’t sure why I liked this cup so much but it was the one I always chose to drink from whenever I was over at the house. How could he know that? I was pretty sure he didn’t pay any attention to me when I was at his house.

“O’reight?” He spouted as I took a seat across the table from him.

“Think I’m done cryin’ like a git.” I picked up the snowman cup and took a sip. “I’m really sorry ‘bout all that.”

“Would yeh stop apologizing?”

“I’m jus’ so bleedin’ embarrassed. I swear I’m never like that. ‘S jus Tom… I can’t take ‘im bein’ angry at me.”

“So I’ve saw… Yeh’ve gone bonkers over ‘im.”

“I’m jus’ so used to talkin’ to ‘im every day… I can hardly put on my trainers without ‘is advice.”

“’E picks out yer shoes?”

“Tha’ were an exaggeration…” I said.

“Ef it makes yeh feel any better, ‘e’s been a total sod all week.”

I grimaced. “Doesn’t help.”

“Sorry.” He looked down at the table.

“Don’t be…”

“Sorry for gettin’ yeh in trouble with Tommy. Shouldn’ ‘ave made yeh keep drinkin’.”

For once, I thought he was being ridiculous and I laughed loudly. “Made me?” I giggled again. “Yeh didn’ make me do anythin.”

“I kept buying yeh round after round.”

I felt a strong surge of confidence. I was becoming slightly more relaxed around him. “So? I didn’ spend a quid all night and I were wasted. It were a good night.”

Oli looked a little confused.

“Well, until the end o’ it,” I added with a grin. “I had fun… don’t get to do tha’ much.”

He looked skeptical but said “We was ‘avin’ a good time, wasn’t we?”

“Aye.”

“Yeh should quit the nice lass act more often.”

“’S not an act.” I pursed my lips together, a little ashamed that it was true.

“I know.”

“Sometimes I wish it were jus’ an act…” I mumbled.

“Wha?”

“Nothin.” I shook my head and gulped my drink.

“No, wha’d yeh mean?”

“Honestly?”

“Aye, honestly…”

“I sorta hate bein’ so feckin’ good all the time,” I said assertively.

Surprised, he responded “Then don’t be.”

He made it sound so easy. Like you could just all of a sudden be someone else. Though I was generally happy with who I was, there was something appealing about this idea. About changing. It was okay to be plain old Anna, with the blue eyed best friend and the good marks in school and the particular parents. But wouldn’t it be even better to be talked about the way Oli was talked about. To have a terrible reputation and loads of cool friends.

We sat in relative silence as we finished our tea. What would we have to talk about? The weather? The latest gaffes made by our prime minister and the American president? Football? The only thing we really had in common was Tom and I’d made it pretty clear that he would be a dodgy subject matter. So we settled into a tense quiet until our drinks were gone, at which point I spoke immediately. I did not want to be forced into this humiliating situation any longer than need be. “Should prob’ly get home ‘fore my mum does…” I said, running my finger tip along the lip of my snowman cup.

“Right, don’t need yeh in anymore trouble.” He nodded and stood. “Jus’ gotta find a sweater for yeh and we can go.”

He disappeared into the laundry room for a brief moment, leaving me standing alone in the familiar kitchen. How many times had I sat on the counter while Tom raided the refrigerator? Too many times to count. And how many times had we sprawled out at the table to work on impossible Maths homework? More times than we would have liked.
It wasn’t normal the way I missed him. It was foolish and obsessive, verging on a little creepy. Was this how I should feel towards someone who was only my best friend?

“Hope yeh like Converge,” Oli said as he reentered the room, handing me a hooded zip up. “It were the only clean one.”

I looked at the black jacket with red lettering. “I don’ know wha’ Converge is but ‘s fine.” He just shook his head and went to get his shoes on. I pulled on the sweater, zipping it up before collecting my wet t-shirt and jeans, watching him all the while. I wondered if he knew that he was probably the cutest boy I’d ever met. Then I hoped he didn’t know. How much embarrassment could I really take?

“Yeh ready?” He asked.

I nodded, putting on my own shoes, which were still squishy with water. Oli was waiting patiently for me at the door, holding it to let me go ahead of him. I didn’t want to mistake that for chivalry so I ignored it. Instead, out of gratitude and anxiousness, I blurted “Thanks… for, uh, yeh know… Stuff.”

He laughed and then teased, “Yer welcome for… stuff. Jus’ don’t go spreadin’ it around. Don’t want to ruin my reputation.”