May 2, 2023
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THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK
A word of caution: This will hurt. I've been toying with the idea of writing a story about a band breaking up for years. I wanted to write the rawness of it as it's happening, with no backstory of how the band behaved prior to the fallout. I could never figure out how to do that, until last year, when the drummer of a band I admired, announced that the last three shows he played were his last with the band.
This story is meant to pay homage to a time and a band I knew when things were different. Anyone out there who is still part of the Catfish and the Bottlemen fandom, is feeling a mix of hurt and malice right now, and there's nothing any of us can do other than suffer through it. I decided to make this a fanfiction and I'm writing it in Van's perspective. This is not fact. This is not real. This is just my take on the state of things and my attempt to put life into something that doesn't really exist any more. I don't expect anyone to like it. But I needed to write it. I hope it gives those of us who are still here a little bit of peace, even though it's fictitious.
I love you all.
THE ONLY LIVING BOY IN NEW YORK
CHAPTER ONE
Word Count - 2058
“I’m leaving the band.”
Four small words that were about to change the course of my life.
I was standing on the platform behind the stage for the first time in eighteen months. Nervous excitement brewed just below my skin as we attempted to ready ourselves for our first show post-pandemic. But the words that I heard from my bandmate, were not the ones I was expecting when I’d asked if everyone was ready.
I turned my head at the same time I reached for my guitar, craning my neck toward the person who just spoke the words I never thought I’d hear any of them say. I looked right at Bob, the backbone to the band who rolled his drumsticks habitually through his fingers when my eyes met his. His facial expression was a mix of nerves and relief and the realization of his relief made me nervous.
Hi guys I made more :)
how about I change,
how about you look at me the same?
Van McCann being Van McCann.
#2 Bond’s sister goes on tour
When you’d waltzed into the world five years after your older brother, John, you were red faced, with your tiny little fists angrily balled up and your eyes damp with tears. From the very first day your brother had set eyes on you, even at such a young age, he had decided that he was to be your protecter for life; and that, he was.
He’d stepped up to the role of older brother incredibly. He’d read story books to you as a toddler, play guitar to you as a child and eventually, watch you grow up in to a teenager and an adult, coaching you through your life issues with his strange words of wisdom and teaching you ridiculous things, such as if a fly is annoying you, that you should just eat it. “If you eat it, then all his little fly mates will piss off ‘cos they’re afraid you’ll eat them too.” He’d told you one day, aged 24. “John, what the fuck?” Your nineteen year old self had replied, laughing at him.
You were used to being with him all the time, he’d lived at home for the whole of your life and then, in the August of 2014, everything changed. It was for the good, but fuck, did you miss your brother. John joined a band, they were making their way up in the music industry and had an album prepped and ready to go. He was the replacement guitarist for one that had left due to ‘personal’ reasons.
It had been your brother’s dream for as long as you could remember to be a guitarist and he was finally living that dream. When you were younger, he would play you your favourite songs stripped down to help you go to sleep. He’d managed to teach you a few chords in your time too, and you could easily join in with a song, just not as well as him. On one hand were happy for him, his band mates were good people from what you’d heard from him, especially the frontman, even if he had a dumb name, he could tour the world doing what he loved and earn money from it, he was getting girls left, right and centre. Yet, on the other hand, you were slightly devastated.
You lacked not only your brother, but your protecter, your best friend and partner in crime.
When he invited you to join them on the first leg of the 2016 tour, you didn’t even need to think about the answer.
“It’s not all glamorous, y/n. You’re gonna spend a lot of the time stuck in the tour bus with us lot and usually when we stop in a hotel, they’re not even that nice.” He’d explained whilst you were jumping up and down with excitement. You didn’t care though, you were just happy to be finally reunited with your brother, whether that meant spending hours stuck in a bus with five other boys playing Fifa and eating just Doritos for your dinner, you didn’t care.
Catfish had just recorded a second album, for John it was the first one that he featured on. Since he’d joined the band, they’d got bigger than you could have ever imagined. So big, in fact that for the second album, they’d had Dave Sardy producing it.
The day that they had found out about that, John had rung you up. “Y/n, this is fuckin’ huge!” You laughed at him. His excitement was evident through the phone. “Didn’t he do oasis or some other shit?” You asked, and John scoffed at your limited music knowledge.
——————
Before the tour, you hadn’t met Van. You’d met Bob one day a few weeks before after a little private gig in the middle of London. There was barely anybody there and you’d taken along your friend, Isla, she was a huge fan of Catfish and The Bottlemen way before your brother joined and when she found out that he was joining the lineup in 2014, she rang you crying. You’d taken her along after she’d begged unmercifully since he joined the band and it was a year and a half after the release of the balcony, early 2016. The gig was smaller and more intimate that your previous experiences of catfish’s show. It was filled with important people, wearing formal clothes and sitting down at tables, it was the gig that would help the boys with finding the right people to help with the second album. There was a small crowd of people, mostly family and friends of the band that had been invited along.
Isla looked at you, her eyes filled with excitement as she pointed to the stage. You just laughed at her and joined the crowd.
Bob was kind, he was the sort of person who would offer you a cup of tea before you’d get in the door, or give you your jacket when you were cold, or take a good picture of you for your Instagram without you even having to ask. He was quiet too, which was exactly how your brother had described him, you didn’t mind much though, he was good company and extremely intelligent. He could hold a conversation well once you’d got into one. You were meant to meet Van, Larry and Benji that night too, but they had all disappeared shortly after the gig to get drinks in a local bar. You wondered why the other two hadn’t gone, but you didn’t ask questions. John and Bob were free spirits though, floating around the empty venue and singing loudly to old songs by the Kinks. Then, you knew that if Bob was anything to go by, the rest of the boys would be a dream.
——————
When John came home a week before you were due to go on tour with them, you were packing. Sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom, you had pulled apart every component of your wardrobe in the hope you’d find some half decent clothes. In the forty five minutes of doing so, you’d found four new pairs of black jeans which had gone straight into your suitcase and an old yellow dress which fell to just above your knees, had long sleeves and tiny flowers printed on it. It was one of your favourites.
“What ya doing there, little one?” He asked after letting himself into your bedroom. He’d been calling you little one for as long as you could remember, which always made you laugh seeing as you now weren’t that much shorter than him.
An old Noel Gallagher song played through your surround sound system and you leant across and turned it down slightly.
“Retuning a flute.” You replied sarcastically, causing John to laugh at you. “What does it look like I’m doing, you little dick?”
“A flute? Since when did you play the flute? Can they even be tuned? I have many questions, little one.” He laughed. For the next hour, you picked out enough outfits found in the very depths of your wardrobe to get you through the three month tour, all whilst your brother waltzed around tiny, cramped bedroom, dancing over the piles of clothes and toiletries on the floor, to French music. He knew every word to every song, which made you laugh; he’d dropped out of French during the third year at secondary school, claiming he didn’t understand any of it.
“Can you get out of my room now please?!” You shoved him gently in the direction of the door after listening to the same song for the third time in a row play out through your speakers. You stood rooted to the spot, surveying the mess you’d made around you.
“Get out? I’m hurt, y/n.” He whined, pouting out his bottom lip. Your parents were talking in the room next to you and you could heard both yours and John’s names mentioned. Another argument, you assumed, you’d be glad once you’d gotten away.
“How can I put it in a different way? John, please fuck off out of my bedroom.” You bit back, sarcasm lacing your voice. You raised your eyebrows at him as he spun on his heel and threw you a finger gun, before stalking off out of your room. He stopped once he was in the hallway, turning around and looking back into your bedroom.
“Glad you’re coming with us, y/n,” He grinned. You nodded your head in agreement and watched him spin on his heel once again, walking towards his own bedroom.
“By the way, no one calls me John anymore! Bondy to yous lot!” He exclaimed, before stepping into his bedroom and slamming the door behind him.
——————
The day you met Van, he was wearing a white button up shirt. You looked at him for a little too long, you were sure of it. Larry was the only one who noticed though, giving you a strange look as he stood clutching his suitcase. You couldn’t help it, you’d seen pictures and videos of Van before and you were well aware that he was incredibly attractive, however, in person, he was at least ten times more gorgeous.
“Bond’s sister? Y/n, right?” Van had asked, pulling you straight into a hug no more than fifteen seconds after meeting you. He was friendly, maybe too over friendly for a stranger, but you weren’t complaining.
“Yep, that’s right. Unfortunately I got lumbered with that massive twat as a brother.” You pointed towards John, he was stood in the middle of the airport terminal doing the tree yoga pose with Benji. Bob was taking pictures on the chunky camera hanging around his neck.
Van laughed, gazing over at the boys briefly before looking back at you. He studied your face intently for a few moments.
“At least we know who got the best genes out of the two of you.” He laughed, raising his eyebrow at you. You simply just laughed, unsure how to really reply. You didn’t want to overstep the mark and make a fool of yourself, not within the first day of knowing Van.
Larry was kind, you complimented his shoes. They were Adidas, much like the rest of the clothing he was wearing and they looked like they were his prized possession. Benji told you that he loved your shirt, to which you glanced down at your t-shirt, momentarily forgetting that you had the oasis top on that John had brought you years ago. You ended up having an in-depth discussion as you boarded the plans about the best oasis b-sides and you were pretty sure that you had won when you popped out acquiesce, but Benji our up a very strong argument for half the world away.
When you got on the plane, you found yourself between Van and Larry. You thought you’d be sat with Bondy, given that he was the only person you actually knew other than Bob. However, when he wizzed off to the plane toilet for thirty minutes, you weren’t left much choice but to squeeze in between Larry and Van. You didn’t really mind though, Van was willing to share earphones and his flying playlist. It made you laugh that he had a flying playlist, it was second nature for them to be travelling. To you, though, not so much.
Half way through the flight, Larry fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, mouth wide open and tiny little snores escaping. You and Van both laughed at him quietly and Van took that as his cue to stretch his arm out arm out around you.
It was only a short flight, the first stop in the start of the European tour was France. Catfish had already sold out three nights in Paris and were performing at a major festival there.
When you finally touched down on French soil, you woke up Larry by gently shaking his arm. “I’m awake!” He declared, sitting bolt upright and looking around the plane as people began to file out.
“Let’s get this show on the fucking road!” John screamed, walking down the steps of the plane and flamboyantly throwing his hands around. Other passengers, including yourself and Bob shot him funny looks. Van laughed heartily, tossing his head backwards and curving his mouth into a smile. His hair flopped back and in that moment you realised, Van Mccann was a fucking walking God.
——————
The tour bus was bigger than you imagined. The boys gave you a theatrical tour of the whole double decker, showing you the bunks, the ‘lounge’ and the tiny kitchen. “Here’s where we make meth, little one. ” John laughed, gesturing to the worktop. You furrowed your brows and nodded your head.
“We do what?!” Van said from the sofa. His feet were resting up upon a table and his head was resting backwards in front of his outstretched arms. He had his sunglasses resting on his nose and he peered over the top of them. He looked incredible.
“Ahh... make meth, apparently.” You chuckled. You took a seat next to Van, plopping down into it with a loud sign.
“Jesus, we’d save a lot of money if we did.” Van said, his voice monotone. Larry puffed out his cheeks, trying his hardest not to laugh.
“He’s joking... obviously.” Bob sat down opposite you and Van removed his feet from the sofa.
You then all shared your first hysterical laugh of many as John held up a box of cigarette papers, saying “And this is what we make paper mache with.”.
That night, you found Van playing guitar at the front of the tour bus. He was in a separate little room with a sign hanging on the shut door which read ‘Van and Larry’s chuckle suite’ which a picture of the chuckle brother on. You tapped on the door and Van opened the door instantly, a small picture of confusion painted over his face when he saw you. “You alright, darlin’?” He asked, putting his electric guitar down. It was plugged into an amp but he had the volume turned right down, not to bother anybody.
“Yeah, the rest of the lads are busy. Just wanted some company,” You said. He gestured you to sit down on one of the two tiny, leather sofas. You sat opposite him and pulled your knees up to your chest. Your whole body was exhausted after the flight, even if it was a short one. It was just something you’d have to get used to.
“Can I play something?” You asked, straightening your legs out and fixing your posture. Van handed you the guitar, his piercing blue eyes not leaving yours for one split second. You tilted your head down towards the guitar and smiled to yourself.
As you played the beginning chords of Leave Fast by Sam Fender, Van sat up straight and began watching you. It was one of your favourite songs by one of your favourite artists. He was an incredible singer and you connected a lot with his music. A bonus, he had a small fan base, so you’d met him on several occasions after gigs.
When you reached the chorus of the song, you began to sing, which is something you rarely did. You knew that you weren’t an amazing singer, but you’d been taught how to hold a note in the secondary school choir you were in but that particular song actually suited your voice.
Once you had finished, you looked up at a grinning Van.
“Who taught you how to do that?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief. You laughed.
“Do what?”
“Play the guitar so well and sing like that. More importantly, how do you look so fucking good whilst doing it?” He raised his eyebrows as you started to grin bashfully.
“Ahh.. John taught me how to play guitar and my choir teacher taught me how to sing. Pretty sure the rest of it was just my fuckin’ amazing genes.” You laughed, and Van did too.
“Song’s called Leave Fast though, it’s by Sam Fender, listen to him.” You told Van.
So you did, and for the rest of the evening, in the front of the bus, cramped on small sofas, you and Van listened to your favourite artist in each other’s company.
When early morning rolled around, Larry came into their ‘chuckle suite’. John had told you that it was where both Van and Larry slept as they didn’t like being in the bunks but you were already asleep when Larry came in.
You’d moved onto the same sofa as Van after your little singing session and spent the evening listening to good music and talking. When you’d got tired, he’d eloped you in his arms, which is where you eventually fell asleep. Maybe you were too close for people that had just met, maybe your brother would kill you both if he found you, maybe you shouldn’t get attached to someone so quickly, but as you laid there in Van’s, fiddling with his small, silver half moon necklace, everything felt well in the world.
“Fuck sake.” Larry grumbled, looking at yours and Van’s sleeping bodies pushed up against each other, Van’s arm holding onto your back so you didn’t fall off in the night and your head nestled into the crook of his neck.
He settled onto the sofa opposite both of you and fell asleep to the sound of both you and Van breathing softly.
——————
You were up the following day before all of the boys apart from Bob.
You untangled your body from Van’s, silently praying that John would ask no questions about where you had been the night before and why you
You walked downstairs to be met with Bob sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea and scrolling through his phone. He was on instagram, his theme of black and white pictures made your heart happy.
“Mornin’, Bob. Big show tonight, right?” You poured yourself a glass of water and sat down opposite him. He looked up from his phone, smiling.
It was the first night of the three sold out shows in Paris. You would be watching all shows and you were excited to do so.
“Yeah, pretty exciting. Sleep well?” He asked, with a hint of knowing in his voice.
You pout out your bottom lip.
“Ahh... yeah, good thank you.” You replied. He nodded and went back to scrolling.
John waltzed down the stairs of the tour bus three hours after you had gotten up. Van and Larry had eventually come down about forty minutes before your brother, Van had winked at you over his cup of tea when he sat down, you just shook your head and rolled your eyes at him, laughing.
“Good morning all!” John yelled. His hair was stuck up everywhere and he looked like he’d been drinking the night before.
“Alright?” You asked as he held your head in between his hands and messed up your hair.
“I think I’m still smashed, little one,” he whined. Larry laughed at him as you breathed a sigh of relief, he had shit memory as it was and alcohol only made it worse. “Went mad last night. Anyway, are you coming tonight? You can watch from backstage.”
“Backstage? Fuck off! I’m going in the crowd, John.” You replied. All of the boys shot you a look and you knitted your eyebrows together.
“Probably not a good idea, y/n.” Benji laughed.
“What? I was in an oasis pit when I was 15!” You said defensively. It was one of the last ever gigs that oasis had played before splitting and John had dragged you along with him, it was probably the best gig you’d ever been to, even if you were reluctant to go. It had sparked your love for your favourite band ever.
“Darlin’, you’ll get destroyed. The French are mad.” Van said, and that was that.
It wasn’t worth arguing, it was you against five others and you were bound to lose.
Catfish were insane. Van was right, though. The French crowds were mad, they didn’t stop singing, dancing, jumping or moshing for any moment throughout the entire gig. You watched from the side of the stage with Larry, sat on an old amp and sharing a bag of sweets and cinnamon buns. Larry watched their every move whilst on stage, constantly making sure that everything was running smoothly. “Look at that dickhead,” he’d said, watching Van tugging on the microphone and nearly falling over the wire.”He needs a wireless one.”
John, Benji and Bob all came off about halfway through the set for Van to do an acoustic version of hourglass and John sat down next to you for a few minutes, taking a bite of the bun when you’d offered it to him. You fixed his cap, gave him a hug and set him on his way again once you heard the crowd roar with approval at the end of hourglass.
It was in that moment that you realised, no matter how annoying or protective your brother was, you were so, so fucking proud of him. All those people were bouncing to his music, they were all having a great night because of him and his band mates. It was crazy to think about.
You hugged each of the boys once they’d come off stage, patting John fondly on the arm and stealing his hat and putting it over your head. Van looked at you, shaking his head and laughing as you pouted and took selfies of you wearing it. You watched the venue slowly empty and Larry go and pull up the setlists from the stage, giving them to the few loyal fans who had stayed and waited for one.
——————
Somebody had suggested drinks after the third and final sold out night in Paris, maybe it was Larry, you couldn’t remember, but before you’d even realised, you were all walking through the streets of Paris, desperately trying to find a bar that wasn’t jam packed with angry French men watching football. It proved a difficult task.
Within the hour, you’d all settled into an English style bar in a back alley that you’d managed to find yourself and were blinding drunk. Benji had taken to the karaoke, giving everybody a shocking rendition of Mr Brightside by the killers which made your sides split with laughter. John filmed it for his Instagram and you wondered what witty caption he’d end up putting it up with.
You’d all drunk way, way too much, but created memories which would, for sure, last a life time. After John had got on a barstool and started dancing to the French electro -pop music playing, you knew that was your cue to leave. The bar owner was a tall, well built French guy that none of you wanted to piss off.
You left before he threw you out.
You left the bar at around 12:30, waltzing through the streets of Paris attached to John’s arm. You’d stolen his hat once again and it was placed on top of your mound of hair. You thought it suited you more than it suited him. The city was more alive than you’d anticipated it to be, there were people everywhere, therefore, it was inevitable that you then bumped into fans. You weren’t actually too far from the venue that the boys had just played
“Oh my god! It’s Catfish!” A girl screamed, running towards you. You ducked backwards, drunkenly hiccuping and hiding behind John. The girl’s friend come running after her. They were both wearing Catfish shirts and you assumed they’d been to the gig earlier on in the evening. Once pictures were taken, they began conversation. You stayed attached to your brother as they spoke in fluent English, asking questions about the second album and new music.
One of them turned to you and looked at you for a few moments. You smiled, hoping she’d leave you alone. You were drunk and definitely not in the right state for a conversation.
“Are you Bondy’s girlfriend?” She asked curiously. You spluttered, smacking your hand to your mouth.
“Nooooooooo! I’m his sister!” You drunkenly laughed, hiccuping between the middle of the sentence.
“Although, I would definitely fuck him.” You gestured to Van, who was talking to the other girl. You didn’t quite realise what you’d said until everybody shot you a look, including Van. He’d definitely heard you. This is why you shouldn’t be able to interact with people when you’re drunk, something would always slip out. You dropped your head into your hands and whined loudly in embarrassment.
“Well, looks like we best be heading off girls. It was lovely to meet you!” Van said, his gaze not leaving yours once.
It was then, in that moment, that everybody found out about your tiny little crush on Van Mccann. You’d prayed that they’d forget, but nobody ever did.
——————
This fic is especially for Rhi ( @storiesaboutvan ) to thank her for reading it and giving feedback on it. She is an absolute angel, go give her BIG love! Thank you Rhi xo
Van's so hot i could die for him fuck he is so gorgeous <3
OMG they did it! :'D I'm so excited for this new song! New album is coming soon 😭💗 Credits to @ellencree #catb #catfishandthebottlemen #vanmccann #bobhall #benjiblakeway #johnnybond #bondy #music #indie #altern #live #gigs