What We Used To Know

Stumbling, drunk, swearing, screaming. That was Oliver Sykes on stage during his last date of the three week European tour he had set off on with the band after the new year.

“You can’t stand on two fucking feet, with a substance as a crutch.”

Hypocrite.

Never thought you’d be singing that song about yourself, did you?

Oliver screamed, landing painfully onto his knees as he flung about on stage. It was a good thing he was screaming and the words were slurred enough as it is, because his current state of inebriation wouldn’t have helped him should he actually have to speak clearly.

Why yes, that alcohol was crutching him along quite nicely throughout the tour, keeping his mind away from the one person he loved most, who would undoubtedly shatter upon the knowledge that her boyfriend was an alcoholic. So, there’s yet another secret of Oliver Sykes swept under the rug, never to be investigated by his oblivious bandmates. They were young and reckless and thrived on the high they got from performing, if not other highs as well.

Oliver was stumbling on stage, knowing that he was going to pass out soon if he didn’t try to calm things down. His face was hot and sweat was dripping into his eyes from his hair as his vision blurred. Tonight had not been a good night (much like every other night of the tour), meaning he would rather trade his chance at calling Addie for that bottle of Jack sitting in the mini-fridge. No one will notice if it’s empty.

He smiled a little in the middle of the song, thinking of Addie. Her smiling face was in his head, making him remember who and what he actually loved. Kean bumped into him and gave him a look, telling Oliver that he just missed a line. Oliver was lost, not knowing where they were in the song anymore as his head flooded with thoughts of the girlfriend he had been neglecting throughout the duration of this short tour. He felt horrible.

Oliver wanted to throw up and sleep; get all the poison out of him. But at the same time now he wanted more.

Words toppled from his lips as he tried to catch up to the lines he had forgotten, hoping no one else would have noticed. Maybe if everyone else was as drunk as he was then everything would be fine. Or maybe they’d all be dead by now.

It was a shit show and they all knew it. Oliver hobbled off stage and collapsed on a nearby couch. This was how he had been the past three weeks, with no improvement. He was missing things during the songs, forgetting lines and falling down a lot. Things were just wrong, but no one was going to do anything about it. They knew he was probably stressed about something. But they didn’t think this would have anything to do with his drinking. No, that part was completely normal.

A bottle of water was thrust into his hand by Matt Nicholls, who was standing above him with no shirt on and sweat seeming to drip from every pore on his body. He was panting, a blank look on his face as he handed it to Oliver. Oliver took it, certainly wishing it was something else, but drank it anyways. If he was going to most likely be passed out in the next ten minutes, it didn’t matter what he drank now.

They’d be home tomorrow for the next day, and he could sleep as long as he wanted to. Then, it was off to Japan.

He couldn’t decide whether going home was even smart or not though. He’d only be in Japan for a week, but he so badly wanted to go home. He wanted his own bed, his own flat, his own Addie. Oliver wanted it to be worth it for him to come home only for a day just to see her, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to just sleep in his own bed again with the comforts of home surrounding him, no distractions that his girlfriend would surely pose.

Addie was the cause of this whole damn alcoholism issue. She was the one he missed, so she was the reason he drank. But it made him feel like shit to think that. Addie wasn’t the cause of any of this. She wasn’t the cause of Oliver ignoring her and deciding that getting too drunk to forget everything but his name was more important than anything else. He was hurting her. He was hurting himself. But he couldn’t see this when he was away from her. It was only when Oliver was around Addie that he wanted to be a good person. He wanted to be a great person for Addie. But he couldn’t find that strength when he was away from her.

He just couldn’t.

***

Oliver was lugging his duffel bag through the hallway of the flat building, swaying a bit from that hangover that was still plaguing him. His head was pounding and his eyes were sore. The only thing he wanted was more sleep. More time before he had to leave again in the morning to catch a plane to Japan. He just wanted to be home where he could be normal, and not have to struggle with missing Addie so much that he would willingly ruin everything just for a few hours of forgetting it all.

The door was locked, as he guessed it would be, making this surprise appearance back home for the night not as much of a surprise as he would have liked it to be. Digging around in his small pockets for a pair of keys that wasn’t likely to be there anyways was proving a waste of time, thus Oliver just knocked on the door. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for Addie to come and answer it. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face. He couldn’t wait to wrap his tired arms around her and just hold her, remembering everything about her that he had missed the past three weeks.

It may have been a short period of time, but it was more than rough for the both of them, when they each had a separate battle within them happening at the same time.

Addie was slow moving to the door, her knee swollen as per usual. She wondered who was there, since no one had come to visit while Oliver was away. She had no friends here, thus no one ever came to see only her. Addie unlocked the door, cautiously opening it and peeking at who was standing before her.

Her dull and tired eyes barely lit up when she saw Oliver, although the preferred reaction would have been for her to smile brightly and instantly attach herself to him. Something inside her had been wrong though for the past few weeks. She wasn’t herself anymore, and being alone made it even worse.

Oliver swooped in though, wrapping his arms around her as she still tried to register that her boyfriend was home. The duffel bag was dropped just outside of the doorway, waiting there while Oliver held Addie tight, tucking his head down to rest on hers.

Addie wrapped her arms around him slowly, still trying to take it all in. She didn’t think he’d be home for another week, after Japan. But he was here now. All of this was some sort of monumental shock, when it shouldn’t have been. Her brain seemed to be functioning ten times slower than its normal pace as she tried to comprehend what Oliver was muttering in her ear.

“Well don’t look so surprised that I’m home,” he said, his breath warm in her ear, making her shiver. “But just for tonight,” he added with regret.

Oliver untangled himself from Addie with more ease than what would be normal for them. They both had a feeling of detachment from the other now that they had been away from each other for the first time since Addie moved in with him.

He grabbed his duffel without a word as Addie just stood there, a dizzy spell hitting her as she leaned against the wall. She couldn’t even seem to face him now as he hauled the heavy bag of dirty clothes back to their bedroom where he soon collapsed on the bed.

Something was different.

Oliver could see it in the way Addie’s eyes were completely lifeless and unresponsive to his presence. It was a shit-decision to leave her alone, when he knew she wouldn’t be alright without him. He thought she would be fine for just a few weeks on her own. Oliver thought that look of pain and dullness in Addie’s eyes was all because of him, because she had been so distraught without him.

That may have been part of it, but Oliver knew nothing of the battle going on inside of Addie’s body that she hadn’t told him about.

The more they were away from each other, the more they allowed secrets to swell up and be pushed away, left untold. Those secrets were only the creator of the feelings they had managed to push away for so long.

Those feelings that they just aren’t meant to be together. They had been gone for a while now, but they started creeping back into each of their heads the minute Oliver walked through the door to find an enigmatic Addie, whereas she could smell the excess amounts of alcohol on his breath.

Things were changing in minutes after they had tried to keep those feelings at bay for the past three weeks. The two of them hated to face it, but when they were apart, they were weak. They had no strength in themselves or their relationship to believe that things could hold up, even if they were apart.

Addie closed the door and locked it, setting her mug of tea in the sink before walking into the bedroom to find Oliver collapsed facedown on the bed. He sank into the comforter, the rest of it swelling up around him as he laid there lifeless, wanting so badly just to sleep. He was so sick of being drunk.

He was sick of how Addie felt around him the second he walked through the door. He was starting to know she knew something. Oliver could sense that Addie could tell what was going on with him. And he hoped to God that she didn’t know much. He wanted to keep this secret his burden, as much as it was becoming Addie’s burden as well if he was going to treat her like this now.

Addie sat down on the bed, the weight shifting while Oliver didn’t move. She tentatively placed a hand on his back, letting it lightly rest there, very still.

Her chin was quivering as she looked at the back of his head. She’d never seen Oliver like this. So tired, weak; so not himself anymore. What Addie didn’t know is that he had been slipping away into his form of escape since he met her. He had been becoming this other person who drank and drank, transforming into this tired bastard who didn’t care about his girlfriend anymore.

“You only called me once,” Addie whispered, if even that. Her voice was so quiet she feared Oliver wouldn’t have even heard her. But maybe it would have been a good thing, because then he wouldn’t have to know how unhappy she was.

He knew.

Addie was disappointed every day that he didn’t call, which was every single day sans the first one. He only called once. Right after their plane landed. That was the last she heard of him for three weeks. She was scared, because she knew that this was a bad sign. No texts, no calls, no nothing. Oliver was in no way the same person now as before the beginning of the tour.

He only pressed his face down farther into the comforter, just wishing that this could all go away. He couldn’t muster enough energy in the world for the apology that Addie deserved. Oliver was slipping away, and they both knew it now. He was slipping away from Addie, from life, from himself. All he wanted was the one thing to make him forget about it for a few hours.

Addie’s hand drifted from Oliver’s back to his hand, touching it softly to the point where he could barely feel her. His hands were dry and cracked, rough in Addie’s small hand. She was more than upset at how things were turning for the worse now. Oliver came home with the life sucked out of him, and wasn’t even able to summon up a response of any type to Addie; and she was lifeless herself, tired of dealing with how reasonable her doubts were starting to sound now. Those doubts were only amplified as Oliver laid there, tears leaking out of his eyes into the soft comforter while Addie just wanted him to say he missed her, and that he hoped she was alright when she was here alone.

She tried to brush it off though, not wanting to plague Oliver with anymore responsibilities and burdens than she already provided him.

“Oliver, I don’t know what is wrong with you, but I hope you can fix it, because we both know something is not right.”

Addie did everything she could to convince herself that things would be alright.

She slept on the couch that night.