noonelaughed: (Default)
POSTBOX FOR CHRIS MILES
noonelaughed: (pic#1084792)
It's a weird feeling not really knowing who you are.

Not free exactly, but almost like floating in space. Sure, he wakes up, he gets dressed, and there's usually someone who helps him find his way to the food-- the blonde guy mostly-- but other than that, he doesn't do much. People have tried to tell him things he likes, tried to get him to remember stuff, but mostly he's been trying to work out why someone would keep so many fish on an island.

Today, he's found a few moments to himself, and he's not sure how to spend them. He's thinking he might see if he can find his way back to where that building where the food is, but instead he ends up behind his house.

There's a stone out there marked with a name. Peter Miles.

Who's Peter Miles? Is he supposed to know him? Maybe it's his dad. No, the dates are all wrong, he would've been too young. Then why's it even back here?

He stands looking at it for a long time, hoping that something about it will help him remember, that maybe it'll all start coming back to him.
noonelaughed: (stay and dance)
He's gone to the aquarium for something, but he can't remember what.

It's proper weird, because just a few minutes ago, he set out from his hut to do... something, and now he's standing in the doorway of the aquarium at a loss.

Now normally, Chris would just write it off to spliff, especially these days; he's been doing a lot of spliff since Cassie disappeared. And since that old man with the drugs went, he's down to the last of his stash, so spliff's all he's got, really. But this is different, somehow. Like, it's gone, and not hazy in that way where he's sure he'll remember once he gets inside.

It's been happening a lot over the past few days, him just forgetting stuff, stuff he's sure he should know, like when he said he'd meet Maxxie to hang out. Mostly, Chris has been avoiding thinking about it, because the last time he forgot something for no reason at all... well, he'd ended up on the island just after that, though Cassie'd told him just what happened. There's no funny feeling in his head though, so maybe this is something else.

At least, that's what he's counting on right now.
noonelaughed: (That word's banned)
"No, I don't think so," Chris replies, because really, he was going to ask her if she wanted to leave, only she got to it first. But it's his party and his birthday anyway, so he gets to make up the rules, right?

"Though maybe it is. Fuck it."

The only question is whether or not his place or hers is closer. Why does he always have to have these things in the middle of fucking nowhere?
noonelaughed: (she took everything)
Chris reckons he's mostly just lucky that he's got something to keep his mind off it.

Tony's not exactly his best mate, but he's still a mate, so finding out that he's disappeared like so many others is kind of fucked. Though, everything sort of works out for Tony back home, doesn't it? Yeah, so he's in the accident and it's really, really shit, but he gets through it. He's Tony, so of course he does, just like he said he would that day at the pool. He'll just go back to all that.

If that's even how it works when people leave. Maybe it'll be different for Tony and it won't even happen at all this time.

Either way, it mostly just reminds Chris of how he can't go back, and how he's not gonna see his mate again unless the island brings him back. It's fucked up that it works that way, that there's nothing he or anybody else can do about it.

But fuck it, sitting round, being sad about it's not gonna do anyone any good. It's not gonna bring Tony back and it's definitely not gonna make any of this make sense, or make him stop thinking about what'll happen if Maxxie or Cass wind up being next.

Or anyone, really.

The hut's been up for over a week now and the tanks are in place, but he's still got to get the stuff to go in them. Rocks and plants, fish and water. Over a month and he still hasn't got a fucking clue how he's gonna get all the water in it. Or exactly how he's gonna manage to get the massive rock he's found not only up the beach, but into the hut with the tanks, then into the actual tank.

He should have known he'd be shit at this.

Flopping down on the sand next to the rock, he sighs and leans against it, then closes his eyes for a second as he digs his fingers into the sand. When he brings his hand up again, there's something clasped in his palm, something that was there, just under the surface. It's not real gold, of course, but it reflects the light just like Chris reckons it might if it were real gold.

It's not like it matters that it's not real, though, mostly cause Chris know just where it's come from. Maybe the details are all fuzzy from when he first got it on account of the drugs they gave him in hospital, but he does remember bits. He remembers Jal's voice, for one.

Not that any of that really matters all that much, anymore, what with him stuck where he is, knowing that he's the only one he knows who won't ever get to go back home.

Chris wipes grains of sand off of the coin, then turns it over in his hand.

Luck. That's all this is.
noonelaughed: (Default)
Chris is convinced that it isn't his fault. How the fuck was he supposed to know that the island was gonna change overnight. Okay, yeah so it'd snowed the year before, but that didn't mean that the same thing was gonna happen two years in a row. Things aren't even the same from week to week, so he can't be blamed for it, really. Maybe. If he'd gone home instead, things might've happened differently, but it's not as though Chris can change how things happened now.

Either way, it's alright now. That one girl'd led him to where the clinic was now, he'd been put under loads of blankets, had gotten new clothes— they were both mental and brilliant all at the same time, though the shirt had way too many buttons— and after a few hours, he feels almost normal. Jesus, they needed to like… warn people when stuff like this was gonna happen, so no one else was caught without their pants and trousers on a cobblestone bridge.
noonelaughed: (WTF)
What's fucked is that he didn't drink that much, not really. And there was only just the one pill, lost at the bottom of the bottle he nicked, all bubbles and fizz. Okay, so maybe he'd gone skinny dipping just for the fuck of it sometime earlier, but that's just because he thought he'd be waking up somewhere in the jungle where he'd gone to sleep, not on a bridge in the snow in some city.

It looks like fuckin' London, but that can't be right. Can it?

Chris stands, hands over his bits as he looks around.

"What the fuck?" he says, and begins walking, over the bridge, towards unfamiliar buildings.
noonelaughed: (she took everything)
Chris is at the party for nearly an hour before he realizes that he doesn't even know why he's there. He couldn't give a shit about politics; last time elections came around, he and Maxxie'd smoked a couple of spliffs and just picked at random. He couldn't remember who he'd voted for if he tried. But there's a group of people, and on his way past the compound that evening, he sees the party, so his instinct is to stop by.

But after a while, he realizes that he keeps looking around for her. It's mental and he knows it; even if he does see her, he knows they haven't really got anything to say to one another. It's all pretty much been said now, hasn't it? She doesn't love him. Or she does but not in the same way he loves her.

Maybe it's his own fault, maybe Chris tried to make Claire into what Jal was for him: someone clever who still talked to him even after they found out how much of a fuck up he was.

But Claire's not Jal, and it was stupid of him to think that somehow, she could be. And maybe love conquers loads of stuff, but only if both people are really up for it.

After the third time Chris looks through the crowd, looking for that familiar glint of blonde hair, he realizes what a fucking dick-splash he's being about all this. This bit is more fucked than any other part of it, really. So he nicks a bottle from the refreshment table and takes off.

Maybe he'll go for a hike or something, somewhere off into the jungle, at least for the night. Mostly, he doesn't feel like being around anyone at the moment, not even Maxxie or Cass.

Disappearing into the trees, he pulls a pill from the pocket of his shorts and drops it into the bottle. Fuck it, maybe he'll feel better about it all, come morning.
noonelaughed: (felatio and rabbits!)
Claire is one of the first people he goes to tell about it.

See, Maxxie's birthday's coming up really soon, and Chris reckons that now's as good a time as any for another party. The last one was fucking amazing, it was, and with everything as fucked as it's been lately, everyone could use one.

And to top it all off, Chris has got like, some great stuff planned for this one. Maxxie'd mentioned wanting a throne, so they're gonna find a proper one for him with a crown to go with it. Only problem is, Chris is kind of shit at all that. Claire's not, though, and Chris figures she'll know just how to pull it off.

Or, at least, he hopes she does. Otherwise Maxxie might find himself sitting on a chair from the compound or something.
noonelaughed: (Best day of my life)
The weekend was fucked.

Chris remembers all of it, though. He remembers waking up as a kid, he remembers being little again and not knowing where his mum and and dad were. He remembers, even as a little kid on the island, liking the fish in his hut most of all, all the bright colors of the tropical ones and how they fit in with the duller colored-ones. He'd been worried about missing cubs, and about whether or not he'd be able to get his knots right when he was stuck on an island and not able to practice properly.

It's all fucked, and when he wakes up as himself again, the age he's supposed to be, it's all still stuck with him, the fact that just twenty-four hours ago, he hadn't remembered about Peter, or his mum or his dad or any of it. In some ways, he kind of wishes he could have stayed that way, not remembering how everything'd gone for him. Maybe he could have lived it over again and done it right this time and not been such a fuck up.

It's back to normal now though, and Chris decides to head up to the compound to see try and find people he knows, to make sure they've all changed back as well. At least that's one good thing about when the island decides to fuck around with them all: it's generally good about putting things right in the end.

He doesn't make it far though, before he sees it.

It's sitting there behind his hut like it belongs there, stone and solid, and if it had eyes it'd be staring back at him, it would.

Peter Miles
Brother, Son and Angel


There's even a bunch of flowers on the ground like his mum's just been there. Like somehow, she's found Peter's grave on the island but didn't think enough to come and shake him awake to say 'hi' to him. Everything's back to normal, alright.

Chris doesn't even remember walking towards it, or sitting down on the ground there, but the next thing he knows, he has. Before he knows it he's rolling a joint, remembering again how his little fingers were never able to do the knots properly, but how they've always been able to at least do this.
noonelaughed: (felatio and rabbits!)
It's a fuckin' brilliant idea, it is.

It's not as if Chris has been planning it for long at all; it's just an idea he's come up with. Of course, the last time he went camping with his mates, Michelle's sister's car had ended up in the sea and Maxxie's stalker had shown up and had been shagging Anwar. Mostly, Chris had just been happy someone had been shagging Anwar, really, but the truth of it was, the whole thing had been a bit shit.

This is going to be different, though. Just a few of them, a night in the woods, no stalkers, and fortunately, Anwar's toad counterpart has been left back home. Not that Chris expects the toad to suddenly start shagging another toad off in the jungle somewhere, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

They've trekked a bit into to the jungle, far enough off the beaten path that there aren't any huts immediately visible. Someone's started a fire, and Chris is finishing up his makeshift tent-- one of the few things he remembers from cubs-- when he thinks of it.

"So who's up for truth or dare?" he asks, remembering something Claire said to him once, "I mean, unless you lot are all a bunch of pussies, that is."
noonelaughed: (felatio and rabbits!)
For all that Chris might complain to some people on the island that he's bored, he's not. Not really, anyway. There isn't fucking college to go or any place he's got to to be, and all he's got now is time. Time to explore or meet people or do whatever the fuck he wants. Being on the island means he's got time to think about all the things he never got to do back home, the things he won't get to do back home.

One such thing is something Chris has always wanted to do: he's always wanted to break a world record. Of course, he's not sure it even matters on the island, since it's in some other dimension or whatever, but to Chris, it does. He's found the book on the bookshelf, The Guinness Book of World Records and it's current enough that Chris feels like it's worth giving it a go.

He's on the beach now, in just swim pants and an oversized pair of sunglasses, preparing piles of sand. He's found a shovel in the compound-- not one of those fucking tiny shovels kids use when they're little, but a proper one-- and is more determined than he's been since he can remember.

Chris is going to build the world record biggest sand castle. Or, at least, the island's biggest sand castle. Either way, it's gonna be fucking mega.

[Billy]

Dec. 25th, 2010 07:37 pm
noonelaughed: (Default)
So, Chris likes snow just as much as the next person. He'd fucking loved it when it first showed up, because they never get this much in Bristol, and whenever they do, it's not like this at all. It goes along with all the other weird shit he's heard happens on the island, though Chris couldn't help but think that this particular weird bit is fucking magical.

Still, he's reached the point where he's pretty sure he's had too much of a good thing, because he'd only really been on the island a few weeks before everything changed around. What he really wants to do is swim in the ocean or check out the waterfall, or look for tropical fish, but that's all pretty impossible when it's just cold like... all the fucking time.

Chris is on his way to the compound to get out of the previously mentioned cold, muttering to himself about how ridiculous it is for people to get angry about him smoking indoors when everybody's indoors these days, when he sees it.

There in the middle of the boardwalk, just like it's meant to be there is a moose. A fucking moose just sort of standing there, looking at him like he's the one who's out of place.

Chris stares back, not quite sure what to do or whether or not he should even move.

He's never going to get used to how bloody fucking mental this place can be.
noonelaughed: (fantastically fucked)
By the time the party started dying down, and people had either decided they were going to stay where they were and sleep on Chris's floor or stumble back to their own home or to someone else's, Chris was fucking well off. He wasn't sure just how much he'd had to drink, and he'd definitely had at least two of those brilliant brownies that Effy'd brought along with her.

What Chris really needed, he'd decided, was some proper food. Like, food you could only get up at the compound. So, a group of them had decided to take the small train-- the one that had showed up with the snow had-- up to the compound kitchen. Only, that had been ages ago now and Chris wasn't entirely sure that they hadn't passed the compound already.

Fuck it. None of it really mattered, anyway. The night was still young.
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