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Without You I'm Nothing (Chapter 39 up now!)	By : urbanephoenix Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Placebo Views: 5829 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction! I do not know any members of Placebo or their families, and I do not profit from these writings.

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First off, super sorry I haven’t updated in forever. My computer died :( :( :( taking with it my ENTIRE story so I’ve had to re-write this past chapter. Thankfully the rest is all uploaded online, but that’s almost 100,000 words gone. Devastated. I have a few days off this week so fingers crossed I can write some more, but not making any promises. I suck, I know =P Anywho, onwards and upwards…
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STEFAN.

Stef woke the next morning with a cold chill running down his spine. He hadn’t been able to find a decent motel at such short notice, so had to settle for a youth hostel a few blocks from Brian’s apartment. The mattress squeeked as he rolled over, the springs digging deeply into his back. Groaning, he reached for the phone and dialed his old friend’s number, something he’d been sure to take note of before being unceremoniously kicked out.

The phone rang in his ear. And rang, and rang.

“Hi!” a chirpy voice answered.

“Brian, it’s-“

“You’ve reached Zach and Brian! We’re not here right now, so leave a message and we’ll get back to you if we can be fucked.” An unfamiliar voice continued.

“Don’t say that, what if my mum calls?” A second voice said in the background.

“Chill out, Brian,” a boy laughed. “Bye!”

Stef waited for the beep. “Brian, it’s me. Look, I know you’re not my biggest fan but can we at least talk, properly I mean?” the blonde sighed sadly. He knew what he needed to say, but didn’t want to do it over the phone. “I don’t know what my motel phone number is, but I’m at The Black Room Inn, room 7 so umm… please get back to me. Somehow. Uh, bye.”

***

He spent the rest of the day shopping, not wanting to swing by his aunt’s place. No, Mildred would just call his father, the last thing he needed was for his far to find out what a failure he’d become, having only returned to London days ago. Every time Stef passed a phone box he jumped in and called his motel, asking if any messages had been left. By the sixth time, he’d all but given up.

“Stef? Is that you?”

The blonde hung up the phone and looked over his shoulder. A tall, broad, brunette man, probably around his own age, was walking towards him, a huge grin plastered across his face.

“Huh?”

“Stefan Olsdal, it is you!”

The man hugged him, making Stef flinch and pull away.

“Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Matt! Remember, St Winstons?”

Oh yes, Matt. “Oh, right, uh… hey Matt! Long time no see!”

“Heard you pissed off to Sweden in senior year, eh? ‘Least that’s what the class poof said.”

“You mean Brian…” Stef frowned. He was remembering why he’d disliked Matt so much.

“That’s the one! Hey, I’m off to the pub, stags night with the boys, you should come!”

There were very few things the blonde could think he’d rather not do, but drowning his sorrows was sounding mighty appealing. “Sure, whatever.” He shrugged.

***

‘The boys’ turned out to be, much to Stef’s dismay, people he knew. Well.

“Heyyyyyyyyyyy, Stefan!” Ryan cried out as Stef and Matt entered the pub. It was dark and smelt of urine, but at least it was warmer than outside.

“Hey Ryan.”

“Haven’t seen you in years!” Sam grinned, patting him on the back.

It was just like the old days. He’d hated those days. “Yeah, got back a couple of days ago.”

“Good man!”

The conversation was predictably dull but loud. As far as Stef could tell, his old ‘friends’ had made very little of their lives since finishing high school, besides getting engaged.

“Oh yeah,” the blonde slurred slightly. They’d been drinking for a solid four hours and he’d only just remembered the occasion. “Who’s gettin’ married?”

“Who d’ya think?” Ryan laughed. “Me of course! Your old fling, Molly. Mate, shame you ditched her, for you anyway, she’s a well good shag!”

‘How romantic’ Stef thought to himself. “Not my type,” he smiled. “but congratulations.”

“Who’s your type these days?” Matt asked, chugging down his sixth… or seventh beer. “You were right popular with the birds back in the day!”

“Yeah! I hear those Swedish girls are heaps fit.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty hot, but so was my boyfriend, Emil. Nice guy.”

His companions roared with laughter. “I remember that! You went through that phase where you shit us off by pretending to be gay. We almost believed you for a while, too!”

“Yeah, that fag in our class had a massive thing for you,” Matt joined in. “remember?”

“Jesus,” Stef muttered to himself. He swallowed the remainder of his drink and got up. “you guys haven’t changed at all, have you? Well fuck it, I’m off.” He turned to leave, but felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mate, what’s wrong?”

“You’re what’s wrong! You couldn’t accept it then, and you can’t accept it now, over three years later. I’m gay, I’m a fag, a poofta, a homo. Always have been, always will be.”

Shoving Matt away, the blonde headed for the door, slamming it behind him.

***

It was almost eleven by the time Stef got back to his motel. He was cold and still reeling from his evening spent at the pub. How could people be so close minded, even now? It was the second half of the nineties, surely people would be coming around to-

“Mr. Olsdal?”

“What?!” Stefan snapped, turning to look at the secretary he’d passed on the way in.

She blushed furiously. “Message for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” The blonde muttered, taking the small piece of paper.

THE BLACK ROOM INN MESSAGE

FOR: Stefan Olsdal, room 7

FROM: Brian (no last name given)

TIME/DATE: 20:32 17/06/96

MESSAGE TAKEN BY: Sandra

MESSAGE: Come over. I’ve got Jack.

BRIAN.

He’d waited long enough for Stef, Brian thought, so collapsing onto his couch, he twisted open the bottle of Jack Daniel’s he’d been saving. ‘Fucking Stef,’ he muttered to himself. ‘can’t even come over and-‘ his train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Brian? It’s me, can I-“

“It’s open!”

Taking a swig from the bottle, Brian looked over his shoulder. Stef looked awful. He was soaking wet and obviously drunk.

“You sir,” he smiled. “are-“

“I’m not drunk!” the blonde protested, sitting down next to Brian. “I’ve just… been drinking.”

Brian laughed, handing the bottle over. “You’re lucky I love you, most people wouldn’t put up with you.”

“You what?”

“Oh come on, I mean generic love. I love you like… like I love whisky! Like I love those shoes I bought last week, or my guitar. I like having you around... not that I’ve forgiven you.”

Stef shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a miracle you do put up with me.” He muttered quietly.

“Why have you been drinking? You used to be fun when you were pissed, now you’re just depressing.”

“ I ran into some old friends, no not friends.. just people.”

“They came to one of my shows once, you know.” Brian said, twirling the emptying bottle in his hands.

“Who?”

The smaller boy rolled his eyes. “I know who you’re talking about.”

“What happened?”

~~~

Brian had just finished loading up the car when he heard a voice behind him. The pub had closed an hour ago, so nobody should still be there.

“Hello?”

“Hey, handsome.” A girl appeared almost out of nowhere. She was stunning, and almost looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Dark eye shadow and blush hid her face, with long curls bouncing around her shoulders.

“Uh, hi.” He gulped, unsure what else he could possibly say.

“I liked your show,” she said, her smoky voice ringing in his ears. “you’re really talented.”

Was she drunk or was she really coming onto him? “Thanks, I uh-“

Brian was interrupted by the girl forcing herself on him, pushing his back into the wall and latching onto his lips. ‘Fuck it’, he thought, and pushed back, running his hands down to her hips. It had been six months since Stefan had left, and he hadn’t heard a thing. Brian hadn’t kissed anybody in that time and had all but given up on his friend who he hadn’t heard from the whole time. He had expected a letter, a phone call, anything. He had spent his twentieth birthday sat by the phone, hoping the Swede would call. No, he didn’t care anymore, here was someone who wanted him (well, in one way at least, so it seemed) and he wasn’t about to turn that down.

She tasted sweet, but smelt of cheap perfume. Her fingers entwining themselves through his hair.

Despite hearing voices nearby, Brian didn’t pull away.

“Oi!” the voices were getting louder, and closer.

The girl pulled back, and whispered in his ear. “I can see why he liked you.” Her lips brushed gently against his skin.

“What?”

She took a step back and looked him in the eye. For the first time, Brian got a good look at her face.

“What you doing to my girlfriend, poofta!?” Ryan shoved him hard against the wall, Molly slinked back into the group.

Brian couldn’t help but laugh. “You thought you needed to seduce me so you had an excuse to give me shit? You’ve never needed a reason before, running out of ideas Ryan?”

“Who said you could speak?”

“Fuck off.” Brian had been drinking before, during, and well after his short solo gig and knew if he stuck around things would get worse. He was in no state to risk that.

Ryan held him back. “Can’t make up your mind can you, fag? We’ll fix you good.”

Four other bodies slowly emerged from the darkness, surrounding the singer and making him feel more vulnerable than ever.

“Let’s see what you’re made of…”

~~~

STEFAN.

The blonde could see he wasn’t going to get an answer, and frankly, he could probably put the rest together himself.

“I want to talk about stuff before you get drunk… before I drink more. No, I’m not drinking… more. You know what happens when I drink too much.”

Brian looked distracted. “You used to be fun, now you’re just a pussy.” He smiled, taking another swig.

“No, when I get drunk I turn into a massive… well… for lack of a better word, ‘man-whore’.”

The smaller boy spat out the mouthful of alcohol he’d just emptied into his mouth, spraying it across the coffee table, and erupted into a fit of giggles.

“It’s so true!” he spluttered.

Stef frowned. “As such… I want to know if we can be friends. I realize you’ve had to put up with a lot of shit over the past few years, some of which I was to blame, and I don’t want to waste my time chasing after you if there’s no point.” He hadn’t wanted to put it so bluntly, for fear of rejection, but his new state of mind gave him the confidence to go for it. His entire body was buzzing with nervous excitement.

Brian sat in silence for a few minutes, staring into space and twirling his hair around his index finger.

“I have been thinking about it…,” he started. “Well I was before I started drinking anyway… but the thing is this; I can’t remember what… what we had before. I c-can’t remember the reasons we connected in the first place. All I can remember now is the ways you let me down. I’m sure there were good times, but they’ve been replaced by good times I had in your ab-bsence.”

Brian was sounding remarkably articulate for someone who’d already consumed a third of a bottle of Jack Daniels solo. Stef couldn’t help but wonder if he’d rehearsed this speech.

“You’ve obviously changed a lot, and perhaps I have too, but things are differen-ent now. I care about you, I really do. You were an important part of my life once, but not anymore.”

Stefan would be lying if he said he was anything short of shattered, but he should have expected it. “Oh,” he muttered. “I see.”

“Why are you so desperate to be pals again anyway? I obviously wasn’t important enough to risk contacting when you were away, so why am I suddenly so interesting?”

“How could you have forgotten?”

Brian shrugged. “Things change. You weren’t my first, or last, friend, boyfriend, or anything else.”

“So now I’m nothing? Not even worth remembering?”

“Hey, you have no right to be upset with me. I waited for you, for too long!”

Stef frowned. “I don’t believe you’ve forgotten. Not everything, anyway.”

“I remember the bad stuff.”

“Bullshit.” The blonde leant over, and pushed the smaller boy deeper into the sinking couch. “I bet you remember this.” He smiled, straddling Brian’s lap to keep him still.

Brian smirked. “No, ‘cos you never took control. Not properly anyway. You were my bitch.”

Stefan laughed, and rested his hands on the back of Brian’s head. “Ok, some things do change.” Dropping his head slightly, the blonde planted a gentle kiss on his old friend’s lips, barely more than a brush against the skin, but enough to make Brian gasp softly.

“That, I remember.”

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A/N: Sorry to stop there, will post the second part (which I have written) in a few days. Just wanted to put something up since I’ve made you wait three weeks… sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!
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Without You I'm Nothing (Chapter 39 up now!)