Everything to Nothing

2007;

Alex Turner had a beautiful voice. What a silly way to start chapter one innit? But he did. It was soft and melodic. I could listen to him speak for the rest of my life. The soft purr that slipped through his lips, the vibrations from his chest, the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. 

He was always a little bit shy at first. He never really spoke but when he did it was always quite humorous and exceedingly clever. Perhaps that's what drew me to him. I was a little bit awkward. He was a little bit awkward. We made quite the goofy pair, but it worked. It worked well. It worked real well. We liked the same music. We laughed somethings. Usually fell asleep around the same time. We wore generally the same thing; sweaters, tight denim trousers, fedoras, buttoned down shorts and in my case floral printed dresses. If a match made in Heaven existed, it would of probably been us. It was quite pathetic really. 

My friendship with Alex blossomed in a strange way. Two months[exaggerated] in a hospital bed and a worried best mate [so to speak] along with a never ending case of the flu; there was Alex Turner walking terribly slow down a corridor to visit his Nan. 
I was feeling a wee bit queasy, nearly vomited on his trainers. 

He laughed kindly and awkwardly as I held my stomach with one pale skinny arm and the other twisting my caramel coloured hair in an attempt to free it from my face. He thought it was quite humorous. I was mortified but he was kind, and pleasant. Genuine; I remember thinking. 
He escorted me to my room. 

Alex was very handsome. His dark brown hair fell in a messy manner around his skinny face. I was very quickly infatuated by him. His crooked smile. His dark brown eyes and skinny frame. 

He saw me once more after that embarrassing incident. 

But while I was Alex. Alex. Alex. 

There was Oliver. 

Oliver Scott Sykes was extraordinary. He was driven by passion which fueled his ambition. He pushed and pushed. Oliver Scott Sykes was my best friend. It was a strange relationship. Nothing ever really felt right, it was as if we sidestepped certain conversations and skated around each other continuously worried we'd might say something the other would not like. 

Suppressed. 

Oliver and I were very different. Very. Everything he liked, I disliked and vice versa, yet we never fought. Perhaps we were too different much like Alex and I were too alike, but is there such thing as too much of something? I constantly pondered. 

I never got tingly feelings in my fingers and toes. My ears never got hot, my face never flushed, Oliver had no effect on me, (Regardless of the amount of times I've seen him naked.) he was constant. Stable. He was always there and for that, that i loved. 

Suppressed. 

Oliver was funny. He was overly funny. He was hilarious. He'd make my sides hurt and my face full of tears from just a simple facial expression  He was a drunk. He smoked tons of pot. He'd suck down a pack of Marlboro reds in ten minutes if you could get him talking long enough. He was intelligent and sensitive. Empathetic, really but perhaps a bit sleazy. 

I did not grow up with Oliver, no matter how much it seemed as if we had. Oliver knew me. He knew when I was scared, happy, upset etc. He knew if I was holding something back or teetering on the brink of an emotional breakdown. Oliver was almost like a brother, almost. 
I met Oliver from an awful break-up. A he-said, she-said ordeal. After a double date with my regretful ex and his girlfriend, we'd swapped numbers,  in attempts to understand Godfrey a little bit more and perhaps make an additional meeting a bit less awkward. I say a few offensive [I will use this term lightly because for obvious reasons I am Heaven sent...] things took a quick turn down south (Which I am thankful for now.) and after a two weeks of being ignored, I lost Godfrey but somehow gained Oliver. The only good that came from that young man.