Something Else

"Hey, Eric!" I called across the room.

It been a few hours since John and I had arrived at the party, and I'd been introduced to all the guys from Eric's new band, and a lot of other people as well. The majority of the people there were blokes, which I guess I should have expected. Apart from myself, the only other girls there were Justin Richard's girlfriend and some bird Austin brought along. I hadn't seen John since we got here and I was beginning to get a bit worried. I shouldn't have been. I didn't have any real right to know where John was and what he was doing at every moment, but I knew I saw him head towards the alcohol when we arrived. At the time, I was still hoping his drinking would calm down at home.

When Halvo turned to me, I could immediately tell he was pissed. When I stood in front of him, I could see just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Have you seen Johno?" I asked.

Eric smiled and then swiveled his head around the room. "I think he still might be outside. Him and Austin went out to smoke a little while ago."

I nodded, thanked Eric, and sent a wave towards Nick Santino, who had been talking to Halvo before I interrupted. I made my way back to the front of the house and out the front door. Halvo's porch was empty, so I had to trek back through the house again. When I opened the back door, the smell of cigarette smoke told me I'd found John and Austin.

"Hey, Keagan!" Austin greeted from my right.

I turned to see Austin and John sitting on a pair of patio chairs, beers in one hand and fags in the other. There were other people outside, but they were a few metres away, around a bonfire I hadn't noticed until now. I felt a little relieved, because from where I stood it seemed as if John was hardly tipsy.

"Austin," I returned. "Hey, Johno. Haven't seen you since we got here. You avoiding me, mate?"

John laughed and shook his head. "Not at all, 'mate,'" he mocked.

"Is tonight one of those nights when everyone likes to point out my accent? I feel like I’ve gotten at least eighty jokes about it tonight," I said as I sat in the only empty chair, next to Austin.

"It's one of those nights," Austin confirmed, holding up his glass as if to toast and then tipping back to finish it off.

I laughed when the chair tipped over.

"Fuck," I heard Austin say over my, and then John's, laughter.

"Well done, Gibbs," John said.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of the slur in his voice. I leaned forward in my chair to peek around Austin's feet and look at John. His hair was messy, but that wasn't such a change from when we arrived. It looked as though he'd spilled something on the knee of his trousers, and yet his beer was almost completely full. If he wasn't ruined yet, he would be soon enough. The hope I had when I first walked out onto the patio left me.

John laughed too loudly and said, “Look, K! Gibbs is making a real ‘wanker’ of himself.”

“Alright, John, I have an accent. We get it. End of,” I groaned with a roll of my eyes.

“Don’t need to get all pissy with me, K,” John slurred. “Jesus!”

At that point I was already disappointed in John for getting so wasted. Then he was the hundredth person to make a joke of my accent. I had come to Halvo’s with him with such high hopes, and John was ripping them down as harshly as he could.

“You’re way too defensive. You can’t relax for five fucking minutes,” John accused, leaning forward in his chair and glaring at me with glassy eyes.

“Maybe you're right, John. You know what? Fuck it. To spare myself anymore anxiety, I think I'll just leave right now."

I stood, still looking into John's angered eyes. I knew that leaving would only make me worry about him even more, but at that point I didn't think I had the right to worry. Who was I to John back then, really? We had been mandatory friends in high school, and yes, we had grown closer on tour, but there was still that nagging in the back of my brain. The nagging said that I hadn't really known John long enough to judge his life choices. We were friends, but did I really have a say in the matter of his drinking? Back then I didn't believe so. I worried despite the fact I knew I shouldn't, and now I know it was because of the forces that would inevitably bring us together. But then, that night at Halvo's, the only thing I knew was that John had disappointed me. It made me angry, hateful, and I'm sure the drinking I'd done myself was fueling that anger. I didn't know what else to do though. So, I left before I, or John for that matter, could say anything that would be detrimental to the relationship we had already built up together.

That night, when I stomped up the stair to my bedroom back at Mum's, I decided what I was going to. I wasn't going to say anything to John about his drinking. I didn't have the right. I would worry, and after that night I would continue the routine we'd begun on tour. It seemed simple enough, but even as I lay in bed that night I knew that the pull I felt as I thought about John would cause me trouble.