can't stand me now [blaine]

[oscar rowan o'callaghan]

cornered the boy kicked out at the world
the world kicked back
a lot fuckin' harder now

The past few days had been nothing but an unfathomable blur to Oz; he'd returned home, only to find the girl he thought he had impregnated was very much without child, and had very much been making friends with his older brother. Needless to say, his return hadn't gone quite as he'd planned. Oz wasn't entirely sure what he had expected - like he thought he'd return home and slip seamlessly into diapers and feeds in the middle of the night and World's Greatest Dad mugs. That wasn't quite how everything had gone, and the entire reason Oz had bothered to return to Lipton to begin with - the supposed child he'd fathered - didn't even exist, not now. Adele had lost their child - a child that had never existed, but that wasn't for him to know right now.

That kind of knowledge, the idea that the child he'd returned home for, the child he'd so desperately desired because some stupid part of him thought it could save him from the terrible person he'd become, that child was gone. A life that could have been lived and subsequently saved his own, was utterly gone. Oz needed to think about someone other than himself for once, and the prospect of a child had offered him the chance to care for a life that wasn't his own. Oz would have done anything for the hypothetical child, and though he'd struggled to begin with and run away from the responsibilities, his time travelling had made him realize how desperately he desired something to ground him. If that was a child born from a one night stand with a girl he could barely remember, then so be it.

Coming home and finding that not only had his brother - who he'd recognized as being fairly infatuated with Adele before he'd left home - was now sleeping with her, and that she'd lost their child, that was everything Oz had returned home for out the window. He didn't want to be with Adele, but it irked him that the potential mother of his child had turned to his brother, of all people. That was the kind of sharing that the O'Callaghan siblings would never have previously lowered themselves to.

So how did Oz deal with all this? The mature route had been thrown out the window when he realized he had no one to be mature for. Cans of beer had been opened and scattered around the room. It wasn't just Oz being lazy and leaving things lying around - he was utterly, off his head drunk. Oz often had a beer and maybe a smoke, but he didn't drive himself this far when he was at home. There was probably quite a few illicit substances coursing through his body right now, although he'd probably struggle to tell anyone what exactly it was. He felt ill, but he ignored the feeling and continued to down the bottle of vodka he'd managed to purchase at the dodgy looking supermart down the street. Oz had come home for nothing, and the boy who had been determined to stay on track had been lost in the haze of the information that had fallen upon him.

[/justify]

[blaine mackinnley o'callaghan]

Have we enough to keep it together?
Or do we just keep on pretending,
And hope our luck is never ending..

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If life had seemed pretty messy before Oz had returned, things now were so complicated and tangled that Blaine was unsure if the life of the O’Callaghan brothers could ever be ironed out into any sort of normality. How he ever thought in the first place that they could all play happy families whilst he screwed the mother of his brother’s baby, Blaine had perhaps not considered. But now, in the middle of some serious tension between the pair of them, Blaine certainly recognised just how screwed up this situation was.

Blaine turned his key in the lock as he got in from a long shift at work. The hours were tiring and the customers decidedly dodgy but it did at least keep him housed and fed. It had to be better than Oz’s career choice anyway; risking his life and his freedom every day to sell drugs to the lowlifes of Lipton. Rubbing his eyes a little as he headed into the house, Blaine immediately inhaled the strong and heady mixed aromas of various illicit substances seeping in from the living room. He wrinkled up his nose, too tired to be dealing with this shit.

As he entered the living room and noted the selection of cans strewn across the carpet, Blaine had to make the decision over whether he should just silently retire to bed- leaving Oz to get on with things in peace- or whether to start something with the rather drunk looking guy before him. He knew it would be more sensible just to leave Oz to it but of course, being a fiery Irishman, sensible ideas were not always his strong point.

”What the fuck are you doing wit’ yer life?” Blaine asked, looking down on his brother with a certain disdain. It came out as harsh, it was probably meant with a certain cold undertone, but Blaine was genuinely quite concerned for his brother. Since he had returned, Oz had just seemed so listless and uninterested. Nothing had got better but things had in some way changed. Oz would have, before his departure, looked down on Blaine for sitting in and getting off his face. Oz would have been out there doing something, not just sitting getting completely hammered in the living room. It was reassuring to know that Oz wasn’t out on the streets and was safe in the house but even so, Blaine worried about the boy.

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[oscar rowan o'callaghan]

cornered the boy kicked out at the world
the world kicked back
a lot fuckin' harder now

There was no concern in Blaine's voice, though Oz hadn't expected to hear any. His brother and him had once been close, but their various misdemeanors had come between them. Mostly Oz's misdemeanors, although that was something Oz was stil working on admitting to not only to Blaine but to himself. Oz refused to shoulder the entire blame for the collapse of their sibling relationship, although it was a two way street. Oz was sure Blaine had been glad to get rid of him - no kid brother to get in his way so he could do whatever he wanted. Which was apparently sleeping with the girl who had been pregnant with Oz's child. Despite his usual fiery Irish personality, Oz found he couldn't muster anger at Blaine for sleeping with Adele after he'd left. Maybe it was because he'd stolen her from him initially when he slept with her, or maybe because he was past caring anymore. The bottle clasped in his hand pointed toward a great deal of the latter.

He looked up, though barely even acknowledging his brother's presence.
"Watchin' telly," Oz replied darkly, gesturing to the television with the vodka bottle. "Fuckin' thing keeps fuckin' up, ya can't afford one that fuckin' works? I thought ya would be livin' the life of riley without me," Oz drawled, clearly quite drunk. However, one good glance at the telly and the inhibitions to see that it was actually turned off would explain the technical difficulties that Oz was having with it. "Fuck this," Oz muttered, downing a swig from the bottle and making a face as he swallowed the liquid down. He sat for a second, utterly frozen, the bottle hugged to him like it was a lifeline.

"I'm gonna be fuckin' sick," Oz stated, nonchalantly and looked up at his big brother. "Go on then, tell me," Oz encouraged, leaning his head back to try and control the urge to be sick on the carpet. "I'm a shitty human being and I don't deserve anythin', I fuckin' know, alright?" Oz asked, the hand that wasn't clasping the bottle flying out. He was growing louder as he spoke now, the heavy Irish brogue would have given anyone else but his brother a difficult time understanding. Blaine was used to it though, it was easily understood, even when his brother was drunk. "I fuckin' know," Oz added, sounding almost emotional about what he was saying now, like he was sorry for himself. That wasn't something Oz usually indulged in. Swallowing hard, his head pounding as he swallowed down more of the vodka.

"I'm fucked," he added, looking up at the ceiling of their house and taking another drink from the bottle, only to find he'd now drained it completely. Eyeing it reproachfully he looked around, trying three of the empty beer cans in the hope he'd find a full one. No such luck, Oz thought, looking back up at the ceiling as the nuasea his him again.

[/justify]

[blaine mackinnley o'callaghan]

Blaine looked from Oz to the television, noting that it was still very much switched off. Technical problems indeed, he thought, shaking his head a little. The only problem was just how wasted Oz was right now. ”Yeah, right” Blaine agreed, deciding not to point out that the on switch may well help his brother fix the telly. ”But I hate to break it to you Oz, I’m not exactly rolling in it”. Even if the telly was broken, which it quite clearly wasn’t, a few shifts pouring pints wasn’t providing him with anywhere near the income to get anything better. ”Always chip in some of your own money though, you know..” he suggested, figuring that dealing his way through Lipton, and more recently across mystery locations in the states, must have provided Oz with a little bit of pocket change.

Knowing that neither of them were really interested in the telly situation, Blaine turned back to his brother, listening to his sudden self pitying and out of character rant. Blaine’s brow furrowed as the words tumbled out in a jumble of strong drunken Irish. Oz had such a high opinion of himself- he never showed or admitted his weakness. Not the Oz Blaine knew. Blaine had tried all this time to change his brother but watching it unfold now, with Oz downing a bottle of vodka and declaring his worthlessness in life, Blaine couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. This hadn’t been what he had expected. Or wanted. He had intended for Oz to clean up, not to completely lose his spirit.

Blaine stood for a moment, considering his words as Oz tried hard to contain the vodka in his stomach and prevent it from making a reappearance all over the living room carpet. He felt suddenly very protective over his brother. Oz just looked so..hopeless. If they had any normal sort of relationship, Blaine would offer some words of support or even a supportive hug. But they didn’t have a normal relationship, however much he wished right now they did. And so Blaine walked across the room, emptying out the wastepaper bin of its limited contents and taking it back over to Oz. He may well be capable of making it to the bathroom, but when you are feeling so drunk and so ill, sometimes it is nice not to even have to bother to move.

Wanting so badly to say something nice, Blaine struggled over his words, something within him just refusing to let go of the tough guy. ”The world is full of shitty people” he eventually said calmly ”We’re just two of many”. ’We’re’. Blaine wasn’t putting this all on Oz. He knew he was just as bad as his brother if not worse, however much he tried to act like an angel. Oz was not a shitty person alone- they were as shitty as each other. Blaine placed the bin down next to his brother without another word, surveying the boy’s expression with slight concern. There it was, a very small amount of compassion and emotion from a man who prided himself on rarely showing either.

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[oscar rowan o'callaghan]

cornered the boy kicked out at the world
the world kicked back
a lot fuckin' harder now

Any other time and this show of vunerability would be quickly covered up, if it was even present in the conversation at all. The O'Callaghan's weren't exactly well known for their visual emotional depth. Oz had learnt from a young age that the appropriate way to deal with these kinds of things was to simply bottle them up and let them fester inside; or better yet, find a suitable release for them. Alcohol or drugs were often the preferred course of action, and occasionally a good bar fight would be enough to solve something. However, none of those actions seemed like they would bring Oz peace of mind about what had happened. He'd taken the alcohol and drugs route regardless, but it wasn't working.

His brother's show of what could be considered concern - either concern for Oz or concern for who would have to clean the mess up from the carpet - went unnoticed as he cleaned the trash can out and placed it down. Oz would probably need it sometime soon as the various substances pumped around his body. He felt incredibly warm and incredibly sorry for himself; it was said to bring someone back from a spiral down they had to hit rock bottom first. This wasn't quite rock bottom for Oz, but he was no longer sauntering downwards as much as hurtling towards absolute, certain death, or at least some kind of permanent damage to himself.

Oz hadn't noticed it, but there was clearly still some kind of big brotherly concern engrained into Blaine. Oz had never learnt that kind of warmth or protective emotion, simply because it had always been Blaine and himself and he'd never needed to be there for Blaine. Well, he had needed to be there, but he hadn't. He hadn't so much as visited Blaine once when he was in prison, a time when Blaine could have very well done with his brother's support and presence. Oz had pushed him aside and found a different kind of crutch to rely on; the very crutch that was now crippling his inhibations and, more than likely, his insides.

Oz let out a short laugh when his brother told him they were two of the many shitty people in the world. It was true; they were both terrible people, and Oz had done his very best to drag Blaine back down to his level everytime it seemed his brother might actually be getting somewhere with this life.
"Nah, that's not what I mean," Oz slurred, trying the vodka bottle again, as if he expected it to refill itself. "It was fuckin' peachy, aye? I didn't give a shit about anyone. I didn't even give a shit about ya. But I fuckin' came back for that kid," Oz explained, eyeing the bottle reproachfully.

"I fuckin' came back for that fuckin' kid and it doesn't even have the fuckin' decency to be alive," Oz growled. Typical Oz, pushing the blame for something across on someone else. However, it was quite clear his facade to try and hold onto his snarky personality was failing as the structures that had held the once so confident, headstrong teenager began to crumble. "Fuck sake!" Oz yelled, the bottle of vodka slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor, before he leaned forward, grabbing the trash can and vomiting into it. Oz was barely recognizable as the person he had once been, a complete shadow of the former Irish hardboy who spent his days selling drugs to just about anyone in Lipton. If they could see him now... drunk and high and everything inbetween, bent double, retching into a trash can. Oz was pathetic, and he'd never been more aware of that fact.

[/justify]

[blaine mackinnley o'callaghan]

Have we enough to keep it together?

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Blaine watched and listened silently as Oz carried on talking, frustration and anger audible in his voice through the drunken slurs. The next words spoken by his brother hit Blaine hard, and with an equal mix of both shock and sadness. Oz had come back for the baby? For possibly the first time in his life he had actually put somebody else before himself and had decided to do the right thing? There was the initial shock and it took a few moments for Blaine to even begin to process this.

As he did though, the sadness crept in. Blaine watched as Oz’s eyes filled with a dark sense of hurt whilst cursing the baby for dying and found his heart breaking a little for the fact his brother had lost so suddenly the one thing which could have changed him. Blaine had stuck by Adele- pledged to be there for her and the kid- out of a sense of regretful responsibility. Oz, on the other hand, seemed to actually care about the child. As unbelievable as that was.

As the bottle smashed onto the floor, Blaine continued to stand silently and listen to Oz ranting out his anger. At face value it was anger at the situation- anger at the baby- but Blaine had a feeling that, through the tough front, at least some of the anger Oz held was towards himself. See if Oz was merely angry at something or someone he would get out there, start a fight, get in trouble and generally shove two fingers up at the world. But he wasn’t doing that tonight; he was sitting here in a sorry state alone on the sofa as he slowly drowned his liver and his sorrows. Oz still had his fighting talk; making out that it was anybody elses fault but his own but yet, to watch him, it was like he was directing all of the anger inwards and punishing himself with the toxic concoction of substances pulsing through his veins.

Blaine sat down on the armchair as Oz began to retch and hurl into the bin. Somehow- as his brother spewed out not only the contents of his stomach, but also his generally well hidden feelings and emotions- it seemed wrong to just continue with his plans to leave Oz to it and head to bed. ”Charming” He said gently, a cold tone to his voice but no malice in his heart. ”There I was thinking you’d come to your senses and realised I’m an alright brother after all” he continued dryly in reply to Oz’s slurs about not giving a shit about him. Blaine didn’t really care, he’d frankly heard much worse off the boy, but at least mocking this avoided having to talk about the baby. He’d never realised or considered that Oz cared and, now that he did, he wasn’t sure what he could say. After all, what can you say to someone who has lost the only thing they have ever cared about?

After a few moments of silence as Blaine picked through his thoughts, he finally spoke quietly, finding each short word near impossible to get from his mouth. He didn’t do nice. He didn’t do caring. He’d tried all that before and each time Oz had spat it back in his face. Quite expecting the same reaction now, Blaine was almost pained by the sentence he spoke, knowing that he would receive some cutting and sarcastic remark from his brother for his trouble.

”I’m sorry Oz..”he said honestly and simply, without the normal aggression in his voice but equally minus the dramatic sympathy so many people would approach this situation with. The gesture was what it was, and Oz could take it as he wished.

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