The Past Keeps Following Me

two friends

I yanked open the car door to Barry's car and jumped into the passengers seat, slamming the door behind me. Sadly, it wasn't loud enough to wake the dead. A few seconds later, Barry opened the boot of the car and folded the umbrella, shaking it a little before setting it down and closing the boot. I slumped down in my seat as Bazz hopped in next to me and started the engine. It was a bit of a drive back to Glasgow; back to home. We canceled the Twin Atlantic tour after the accident, so we didn't have a concert that night.
I rested my head against the window, listening to constant beat of raindrops, the hum of the car and Barry's steady breathing, and I closed my eyes, diving into sleep.
When I opened them again, music was blaring from the radio and my hands were gripping the steering wheel. I panicked and swerved slightly as a chorus of laughter rose from the back of the car as we thundered down a motorway, streetlights flickering overhead. It was dark outside, probably quite late. A hand rubbed my leg softly, and as I turned I saw his big, chocolate eyes.
"You okay?" Ross smiled at me.
No fucking way. I blinked, nodding my head once.
"Ay lads," Craig called melodically from the back. "You look like you both need a wee drink,"
Ross chuckled and reached backwards, taking a couple of beers from Barry. I turned my eyes towards to road. I sighed as I heard Ross crack the cans open. He was doing so well before tonight. He waved one in front of my face, and I batted it away dismissively.
"Ross, I'm driving," I muttered, swerving around a white van. We'd all had a lot to drink tonight, I doubt another beer would make it any better. I could feel Ross' eyes searching my face until he turned his attention towards the road.
"I don't know what's up with you lately, Sam," he said quietly, taking a sip from the can. "You're so goddamn serious all of the time."
"What do you mean?" I turned the radio down slightly so I could hear him better. The guys in the back were singing so loudly and off-tune that they didn't even notice. "You're the one who gets pissed after every concert."
"Sam it's called having fun," Ross said firmly. "You know Fortune Day means a lot to me, just let me have some fun."
"Ross, you're acting like getting drunk tonight was a one off; you're like this all of the time." I really didn't want to start an argument tonight. Everything was okay, everything was normal. "Man, this isn't some little kid's game. This is our freaking job."
"Yeah, because that's why we do this. Just for the money, right?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I said, clenching my jaw. "Ross, we have bills to pay now."
"You've changed, Sam. When we first started doing this, it was just about having fun and expressing ourselves through music. You didn't care about money, you just wanted to do what you love." He took another large gulp of beer.
"When we first started this, we were all living in our own parents' houses. We didn't have to cook, pay bills, pay rent..." I trailed off, taking a deep breath. Calm. I'm calm.
"Who cares about that shite? We should just have fun whilst we still can!" Ross was almost shouting now, swinging his can around and making big gestures with his arms. Typical.
"Ross, you're drunk. Just shut the hell up and let me drive." I looked at him and he turned to look at me. His state burned ice-hot into my own pitiful gaze.
"You're not the Sam I fell in love with." he said sharply. That came out of nowhere. I turned my attention towards the road, trying to steady my breathing as tears stung my eyes. I knew this conversation all too well, it played in my mind dozens of times every night before I even considered sleeping.
Ross turned his back to me, looking out of the window.
"You know what," I said through gritted teeth. Don't do it, I begged myself mentally. Don't say it. "I am sick of how dramatic you always are. You always make a big deal out of bloody nothing."
A switch flicked in Ross, I saw it as his body language shift in the corner of my eyes. "You know, when we get back to Glasgow, you can run off with one of those pretty Scottish girls that always follow you around like some God," Ross muttered. "We both well know that you treat them better than you treat me."
"Ross, you know I love you and only you." I said sternly.
"What about Dan, hm? Did you tell him the same thing before he left you?" Ross replied loudly, trying to hurt me in anyway possible. Dan was probably the only other person I've ever really loved apart from Ross. He left me when he found out his mother had lung cancer, and he wanted to spend all of his time with her. He shut me out of his life, and I haven't heard from him since. But that wasn't because of his mother; it was because I had these feelings for Ross.
I breathed out, sadly. "Ross-"
"Sam, look out!" Barry called. I looked back towards the road just in time to see the white van I took over before veer out in front of us competitively. I slammed on the brakes, but the road was slippery from the rain, and the car skidded, spinning and spinning, before toppling over onto it's side and plummeting into the back of the white van.
"Ross!" I shouted, opening my eyes, my heart racing. I was back in the car with Barry, who looked over at me. "Fuck me.." I slumped into my seat again, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Are...you okay, Sam?" Barry asked, turning the radio down. He knew I had nightmares, but he'd never witnessed it like this.
"Hm?" I looked over at him. "Aye, aye. I'm fine."
I looked at the road, trying to make out where we were.
"Nearly home now." Barry answered my thoughts.
Home?...But, where is home now? I lived with Ross in his apartment, and before that with my parents. I'd been camping out in the tour van until today.
"Um.."
"You have keys, right? To the apartment?" Barry asked.
"I, uh.." I searched my pockets and produced a set of keys.
Barry bit his lip and turned into the car park.
"I hope this doesn't sound rude, but could I crash with you tonight? I don't think I could face going home on my own without Craig."
"Aye, it's fine. I understand."
Barry had been spending the last few nights at the hospital with Craig, waiting for his x-rays to come through. The doctors said that he'd broken his leg in the crash, but it looked like there was some damage to the spine, but it's probably not too serious. At least, that's what I told myself to stop the guilt inside of me bubbling even more.
Barry pulled into a space and flicked his headlights off. It was terribly dark outside, rain still hammering the ground.
We both ran towards the entrance of the apartment complex, which was sheltered by a metal canopy. I stabbed the pin code in and the door unlocked itself, allowing us in.
Our apartment- I mean, my apartment - was a studio apartment on the top floor. I usually took the stairs, apart from when I'd been shopping, due to the urine stained walls of the lift, but today I felt like taking it. I pressed the button and waited for the lift to come down from the 4th floor.
When the doors opened, I walked in first, followed by Barry, and pressed our floor button. The doors closed and the lift began slowly creeping up. Ugh, I always dread this part; the awkward lift silence. Old crackly music played through the battered speaker whilst Barry hummed. I tapped my fingers on my leg anxiously as the floor count went up.
After what felt like forever, the doors finally opened and I quickly exited. I turned left and strutted down the hall, pulling my keys out of my pocket and inserting them into the end door in one swift movement.
I held the door open for Barry who casually strolled down the corridor with no real sense of urgency.
Once inside, I closed the door and hung the keys up on the key rack.
"So, um.." Barry plopped down onto the old couch. "I'll sleepover on here tonight, aye?"
I nodded trying to avoid eye contact. "There's, a, um..food and stuff in the fridge if you're hungry," I scratched the back of my head. Why did this feel so awkward? Barry and I has shared dozens of sleepovers when we were younger, so why was it so different now?
"I'm gonna take a shower," I point my thumb behind me towards the bedroom. "Make yourself at home, mate."
Barry nodded, kicking his shoes off as I exited.

•°•°•°•°•

That night, Barry slept on the couch with a few tatty old blankets that Ross' Granny knitted him a few years back.
Once I'd checked on Barry to make sure he was comfortable, I went back into the bedroom and closed the door. The empty bed looked depressingly lonely. I sat down on my side of the bed and looked at his nightstand. His favourite picture of us was angled perfectly so that he could see it when he lay down. Jokily, I'd written "Always and Forever. Love Sam x" in red biro on the glass. I never thought that one day I'd mean it so much. I looked away. It felt like I was violating a piece of Ross by looking at it.
On my own table was a photo of Ross and I from when we first started Twin Atlantic, our arms wrapped around eachother's shoulders. My hair resembled a cat that had been put into a tumble dryer and then stuck on my head. Ross, however, looked like he was glowing. His ginger hair seemed to shine from underneath his cap, his cheeks slightly pink with the cold night air. I stared at the photo and felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. I picked up the frame and threw it against the opposite wall with all of my strength. I flicked off my lamp and lay down, sobbing and hearing that fucking conversation until I drifted off into a restless sleep.