so hard to keep her satisfied
Title: Abandon
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13, if that
Summary: Raising his hand to brush a few stray curls away from Billie Joe's forehead, he mumbled, "I can't believe I'm going to fucking Wyoming, of all places."
Note: 2,000+ words. Also, special thanks to the wife for the prompts <4569
Billie Joe stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long while. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, as he studied his reflection, but Billie knew it wasn't what he saw. The stranger across from him was him, of course, but it wasn't the guy he was familiar with. In the place of his normally easy and fearless expression that came with being a normal teenage boy was one of hushed anxiety and a sense of uncertainty. Not liking what he saw, Billie bent his head and splashed the cool water that ran from the sink's faucet against his face in hopes of cleaning the slate. But when he looked up again, it was obvious that nothing had changed.
Sighing, Billie Joe dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the Object he had stashed within it early that morning. Despite how light the Object was in his grasp, Billie wasn't foolish enough to disregard the weight of truth that it presented. He ran his thumb over the pixilated plus sign etched into the fatter end of the Object and took in a shaky breath. Billie hated the little stick in his hand, for a moment, but then hated himself for the loathing he felt.
Unable to dwell on it any longer, he dropped the Object into the trash can and used toilet paper to conceal its identity. The last thing Billie Joe wanted was for someone to discover it. And he knew it was risky to dispose such a thing in the home of his boyfriend. Said boyfriend could happen upon it - or worse, his boyfriend's mother - but Billie didn't believe the Pritchard's to be garbage diggers, and the Object wasn't visible as far as he could see.
When he left the bathroom to make his way towards Mike's room, Billie ran into Mrs. Pritchard. They nearly bumped into each other, as she was on her way to the bathroom, and they both shared polite, surprised smiles.
"Are you staying the night, Billie Joe?" Mrs. Pritchard asked.
He bit his lip in consideration before giving a noncommital nod. "I might."
"Mike's in his room, counting his spoils from the party," she laughed. "It seems like he really made out today."
"Well, I'm sure he's going to need the money."
"No doubt about that. And he's so excited about school. He's going to do so great. "Mrs. Pritchard sighed contentedly and squeezed the shoulder of her son's boyfriend. "Goodnight, Billie."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Pritchard."
She went directly into the bathroom, which allowed him a moment to hesitate at Mike's bedroom door. Billie wasn't certain if he was ready for whatever choice he would have to make once inside that room, but he knew that he wasn't prepared for any path those available choices paved for him. But eventually, a choice would have to be made, so he bravely let himself inside.
Mike sat cross-legged on his bed, and surrounding him were shallow piles of cash, checks, envelopes, and greeting cards. A calculator was perched on his thigh, which he consulted each time he inspected the contents of a different envelope. True to his character, Mike was adding up his graduation money in a way that was organized and precise, and Billie Joe couldn't help but smile slightly.
"How's it going, there, chief?"
He looked up and grinned briefly. "I'm almost finished counting."
Hands on his hips, he approached the side of the bed to observe his boyfriend's tallying process. To his astonishment, the numbers displayed on the calculator were well over three hundred, and a few more checks still needed to be taken into account. Billie had noticed an exceptional amount of people had attended the graduation party, of course, but hadn't imagined those guests could be so generous.
Finally, after another minute or two, he looked up at Billie, and excitement glittered in his blue eyes. "And the total is $423 dollars. How fucking insane is that?"
"Congratulations, Pritchard." He ruffled his dirty blond hair playfully. "You're rich."
"Basically. I can't believe I was worried I wouldn't have enough to cover the cost of my books for the first semester." Mike chose one of the larger envelopes in the group to safely stash the cluster of dollars bills and signed checks inside. "Coupled with my savings, I'd say I'm more than set."
Billie Joe picked up the stack of now empty greeting cards to shuffle them together neatly, and he tapped his shoulder with it. "You'll need to keep these so you can send out thank you cards, okay? No forgetting that."
"Like you'd let me," he smirked and tucked the fattened envelope into the confines of his night stand drawer. "Why did I dread having a graduation party? I made out like a fucking bandit."
"I told you that you would." He settled into the vacant side of Mike's bed, watching him as he kicked off of his jeans to leave him comfortably in his plaid boxers. "And I think you're mom is relieved."
"I know she is," Mike chuckled and crashed next to his boyfriend with a yawn, and he slung a arm across his body haphazardly. "I'm spent, man. Socializing with a million people sucks the life right out of me."
Smiling, Billie ran his fingers over the back of the hand that rested on his hip. "That's a small price to pay for 423 big ones."
"I'll say. It's not too late for you to have a graduation party of your own, you know."
"I'm not going to college. What's the point?"
"The point is you're officially becoming an adult and shit. And besides, a ton of people have graduation parties even though they're not going to school. It happens all of the time. I bet half of our senior class did it."
"It wouldn't feel right to me. I'd feel like I was mooching off the people I know."
He straightened his neck so that his head was directly facing Billie's. Mike looked into the green eyes that had become so familiar, that were nearly brown in the dim light provided by the lamp, and sighed. Raising his hand to brush a few stray curls away from Billie Joe's forehead, he mumbled, "I can't believe I'm going to fucking Wyoming, of all places."
The lump he had been trying to avoid settled in his throat, and he had to shift his gaze towards the ceiling so Mike wouldn't see the effort he had to make in order not to cry. "Yeah, it's - it's pretty fucking crazy."
"I wish you were coming with me."
"But I'm not," Billie reminded him, firmly, wrapping his fingers around his boyfriend's wrist. "We've been through that shit, Mike, and you know I have to stay here."
"Yeah. . . I know." Bottom lip between his teeth, Mike rested his head on his shoulder.
They had dragged the discussion through the mud again and again. Could Billie follow him to Wyoming? Would he be capable of finding a job, finding an apartment, making a living in a whole new city in an entirely different state, miles from home? And even if Billie Joe was able to do all of these things, was it really the right thing to do?
It made sense for Mike to choose Wyoming, seeing as he had been awarded a business scholarship in Wyoming and he would have been hard-pressed to pay for school without such significant financial support. But the only thing waiting for Billie in Wyoming was a minimum wage job and housing he couldn't afford. If he stayed in California, he could keep his position as cashier at the local pharmacy, pay his mother rent and continue to live in his childhood home, and maybe even get in a few classes at the community college, if he was lucky.
Even if the equation was perfectly logical, it wouldn't make the separation any easier. The pair had been best friends for eight years and were lovers for half of that. They had stuck together through the teenage years, which were arguably life's most difficult. What were they supposed to do now?
"My mom thinks we should break up," he murmured suddenly and watched as Billie's eyes darted frantically in different directions, as they always did when he was hoping to avoid tears. Mike swallowed. "She says we're too young and it's too far, and it's time we move on."
"Is that what you think?"
Unsure of what to say, he gave a shaky, slow sigh and turned his face into Billie Joe's t-shirt. "I don't know, Bill. This is getting scary, that's what I think."
Oh, God, Mike, you have no idea. "Yeah. It is scary." It's terrifying.
For a few minutes, they rested in silence. He could feel his heart throbbing in his chest, each beat slow and almost painful. Billie closed his eyes to count them, and when he did, fuzzy, little positive symbols flitted through his imagination. Even when he opened his eyes again, for relief, he saw them dancing across the faded white paint of the bedroom walls. Billie needed no reminder, and yet his brain was insistent. Then, it came to him what needed to be said to his boyfriend, and he shifted onto his side so the two were face to face, nearly nose to nose.
"Listen, Mike-"
Mike was listening. He looked on at Billie Joe, his arm curling around his waist to bring him closer.
"I - I think-" Billie hesitated. He couldn't help it, because the lump in his throat had enlarged, and even without it, it would have been difficult to speak. "Maybe - maybe there's some truth to what your mom says. I mean, things would be different if you were going to school in California, but Wyoming. . ." Picturing the stick hidden in the Pritchard's bathroom garbage can, Billie plunged on, "We should be realistic."
"I get what you're saying, Billie Joe," Mike said softly, voice rough with his pain, "but I'm not sure if I can say goodbye to you if I know it's - it's permanent. . ."
Billie swallowed hard and bravely attempted a smile as he looped his arms around his neck. "Then we won't say goodbye. We'll just say I love you, because we do, and that will be enough."
"I do love you," he managed to whisper, although it sounded more like a croak, "You're my best fucking friend." And Mike kissed him, pressing him against the mattress, reaching his hand behind is head to grip his arm tightly when he felt those small, nimble fingers thread through his hair.
Afterwards, Mike fell asleep. As long as he could remember, an orgasm lulled him straight into his dreams. There had often been times where Billie would sigh in disappointment to see his boyfriend lose consciousness so quickly, especially on nights that he felt anxious and fretful. But tonight, he was grateful for that familiar quirk because the only emotion he could identify - if it could be called an emotion - was numbness. It came with his surrender to his unfortunate situation.
Billie Joe would be on his own now. Mike would jet off for Wyoming in just a couple of weeks, none the wiser about the pixilated plus sign beared by the Object left, but not forgotten, in the bathroom, and that would leave just him. And hopefully his mother, if she would still be willing to help him out and let him pay rent for both him and the new burden he was bringing into the Armstrong family.
Carefully, quietly, Billie slipped out from underneath his lover's still arm and dressed with as much speed as he could risk without waking the sleeping eighteen year old. He held his breath as he watched Mike turn a bit, adjusting to the empty bed, and when he had stilled again, he bent to brush his lips against his cheek with the lightest of pressures. "Love you, Mikey," Billie whispered. "Good luck."
With that, he turned and stole away from the room as silent as a shadow, leaving the last eight years of his life behind and walking into the next eighteen.
--
First one-shot in awhile. I know it wasn't all that great, but I'm working on it :)
Author: Molly
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13, if that
Summary: Raising his hand to brush a few stray curls away from Billie Joe's forehead, he mumbled, "I can't believe I'm going to fucking Wyoming, of all places."
Note: 2,000+ words. Also, special thanks to the wife for the prompts <4569
Billie Joe stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long while. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, as he studied his reflection, but Billie knew it wasn't what he saw. The stranger across from him was him, of course, but it wasn't the guy he was familiar with. In the place of his normally easy and fearless expression that came with being a normal teenage boy was one of hushed anxiety and a sense of uncertainty. Not liking what he saw, Billie bent his head and splashed the cool water that ran from the sink's faucet against his face in hopes of cleaning the slate. But when he looked up again, it was obvious that nothing had changed.
Sighing, Billie Joe dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the Object he had stashed within it early that morning. Despite how light the Object was in his grasp, Billie wasn't foolish enough to disregard the weight of truth that it presented. He ran his thumb over the pixilated plus sign etched into the fatter end of the Object and took in a shaky breath. Billie hated the little stick in his hand, for a moment, but then hated himself for the loathing he felt.
Unable to dwell on it any longer, he dropped the Object into the trash can and used toilet paper to conceal its identity. The last thing Billie Joe wanted was for someone to discover it. And he knew it was risky to dispose such a thing in the home of his boyfriend. Said boyfriend could happen upon it - or worse, his boyfriend's mother - but Billie didn't believe the Pritchard's to be garbage diggers, and the Object wasn't visible as far as he could see.
When he left the bathroom to make his way towards Mike's room, Billie ran into Mrs. Pritchard. They nearly bumped into each other, as she was on her way to the bathroom, and they both shared polite, surprised smiles.
"Are you staying the night, Billie Joe?" Mrs. Pritchard asked.
He bit his lip in consideration before giving a noncommital nod. "I might."
"Mike's in his room, counting his spoils from the party," she laughed. "It seems like he really made out today."
"Well, I'm sure he's going to need the money."
"No doubt about that. And he's so excited about school. He's going to do so great. "Mrs. Pritchard sighed contentedly and squeezed the shoulder of her son's boyfriend. "Goodnight, Billie."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Pritchard."
She went directly into the bathroom, which allowed him a moment to hesitate at Mike's bedroom door. Billie wasn't certain if he was ready for whatever choice he would have to make once inside that room, but he knew that he wasn't prepared for any path those available choices paved for him. But eventually, a choice would have to be made, so he bravely let himself inside.
Mike sat cross-legged on his bed, and surrounding him were shallow piles of cash, checks, envelopes, and greeting cards. A calculator was perched on his thigh, which he consulted each time he inspected the contents of a different envelope. True to his character, Mike was adding up his graduation money in a way that was organized and precise, and Billie Joe couldn't help but smile slightly.
"How's it going, there, chief?"
He looked up and grinned briefly. "I'm almost finished counting."
Hands on his hips, he approached the side of the bed to observe his boyfriend's tallying process. To his astonishment, the numbers displayed on the calculator were well over three hundred, and a few more checks still needed to be taken into account. Billie had noticed an exceptional amount of people had attended the graduation party, of course, but hadn't imagined those guests could be so generous.
Finally, after another minute or two, he looked up at Billie, and excitement glittered in his blue eyes. "And the total is $423 dollars. How fucking insane is that?"
"Congratulations, Pritchard." He ruffled his dirty blond hair playfully. "You're rich."
"Basically. I can't believe I was worried I wouldn't have enough to cover the cost of my books for the first semester." Mike chose one of the larger envelopes in the group to safely stash the cluster of dollars bills and signed checks inside. "Coupled with my savings, I'd say I'm more than set."
Billie Joe picked up the stack of now empty greeting cards to shuffle them together neatly, and he tapped his shoulder with it. "You'll need to keep these so you can send out thank you cards, okay? No forgetting that."
"Like you'd let me," he smirked and tucked the fattened envelope into the confines of his night stand drawer. "Why did I dread having a graduation party? I made out like a fucking bandit."
"I told you that you would." He settled into the vacant side of Mike's bed, watching him as he kicked off of his jeans to leave him comfortably in his plaid boxers. "And I think you're mom is relieved."
"I know she is," Mike chuckled and crashed next to his boyfriend with a yawn, and he slung a arm across his body haphazardly. "I'm spent, man. Socializing with a million people sucks the life right out of me."
Smiling, Billie ran his fingers over the back of the hand that rested on his hip. "That's a small price to pay for 423 big ones."
"I'll say. It's not too late for you to have a graduation party of your own, you know."
"I'm not going to college. What's the point?"
"The point is you're officially becoming an adult and shit. And besides, a ton of people have graduation parties even though they're not going to school. It happens all of the time. I bet half of our senior class did it."
"It wouldn't feel right to me. I'd feel like I was mooching off the people I know."
He straightened his neck so that his head was directly facing Billie's. Mike looked into the green eyes that had become so familiar, that were nearly brown in the dim light provided by the lamp, and sighed. Raising his hand to brush a few stray curls away from Billie Joe's forehead, he mumbled, "I can't believe I'm going to fucking Wyoming, of all places."
The lump he had been trying to avoid settled in his throat, and he had to shift his gaze towards the ceiling so Mike wouldn't see the effort he had to make in order not to cry. "Yeah, it's - it's pretty fucking crazy."
"I wish you were coming with me."
"But I'm not," Billie reminded him, firmly, wrapping his fingers around his boyfriend's wrist. "We've been through that shit, Mike, and you know I have to stay here."
"Yeah. . . I know." Bottom lip between his teeth, Mike rested his head on his shoulder.
They had dragged the discussion through the mud again and again. Could Billie follow him to Wyoming? Would he be capable of finding a job, finding an apartment, making a living in a whole new city in an entirely different state, miles from home? And even if Billie Joe was able to do all of these things, was it really the right thing to do?
It made sense for Mike to choose Wyoming, seeing as he had been awarded a business scholarship in Wyoming and he would have been hard-pressed to pay for school without such significant financial support. But the only thing waiting for Billie in Wyoming was a minimum wage job and housing he couldn't afford. If he stayed in California, he could keep his position as cashier at the local pharmacy, pay his mother rent and continue to live in his childhood home, and maybe even get in a few classes at the community college, if he was lucky.
Even if the equation was perfectly logical, it wouldn't make the separation any easier. The pair had been best friends for eight years and were lovers for half of that. They had stuck together through the teenage years, which were arguably life's most difficult. What were they supposed to do now?
"My mom thinks we should break up," he murmured suddenly and watched as Billie's eyes darted frantically in different directions, as they always did when he was hoping to avoid tears. Mike swallowed. "She says we're too young and it's too far, and it's time we move on."
"Is that what you think?"
Unsure of what to say, he gave a shaky, slow sigh and turned his face into Billie Joe's t-shirt. "I don't know, Bill. This is getting scary, that's what I think."
Oh, God, Mike, you have no idea. "Yeah. It is scary." It's terrifying.
For a few minutes, they rested in silence. He could feel his heart throbbing in his chest, each beat slow and almost painful. Billie closed his eyes to count them, and when he did, fuzzy, little positive symbols flitted through his imagination. Even when he opened his eyes again, for relief, he saw them dancing across the faded white paint of the bedroom walls. Billie needed no reminder, and yet his brain was insistent. Then, it came to him what needed to be said to his boyfriend, and he shifted onto his side so the two were face to face, nearly nose to nose.
"Listen, Mike-"
Mike was listening. He looked on at Billie Joe, his arm curling around his waist to bring him closer.
"I - I think-" Billie hesitated. He couldn't help it, because the lump in his throat had enlarged, and even without it, it would have been difficult to speak. "Maybe - maybe there's some truth to what your mom says. I mean, things would be different if you were going to school in California, but Wyoming. . ." Picturing the stick hidden in the Pritchard's bathroom garbage can, Billie plunged on, "We should be realistic."
"I get what you're saying, Billie Joe," Mike said softly, voice rough with his pain, "but I'm not sure if I can say goodbye to you if I know it's - it's permanent. . ."
Billie swallowed hard and bravely attempted a smile as he looped his arms around his neck. "Then we won't say goodbye. We'll just say I love you, because we do, and that will be enough."
"I do love you," he managed to whisper, although it sounded more like a croak, "You're my best fucking friend." And Mike kissed him, pressing him against the mattress, reaching his hand behind is head to grip his arm tightly when he felt those small, nimble fingers thread through his hair.
Afterwards, Mike fell asleep. As long as he could remember, an orgasm lulled him straight into his dreams. There had often been times where Billie would sigh in disappointment to see his boyfriend lose consciousness so quickly, especially on nights that he felt anxious and fretful. But tonight, he was grateful for that familiar quirk because the only emotion he could identify - if it could be called an emotion - was numbness. It came with his surrender to his unfortunate situation.
Billie Joe would be on his own now. Mike would jet off for Wyoming in just a couple of weeks, none the wiser about the pixilated plus sign beared by the Object left, but not forgotten, in the bathroom, and that would leave just him. And hopefully his mother, if she would still be willing to help him out and let him pay rent for both him and the new burden he was bringing into the Armstrong family.
Carefully, quietly, Billie slipped out from underneath his lover's still arm and dressed with as much speed as he could risk without waking the sleeping eighteen year old. He held his breath as he watched Mike turn a bit, adjusting to the empty bed, and when he had stilled again, he bent to brush his lips against his cheek with the lightest of pressures. "Love you, Mikey," Billie whispered. "Good luck."
With that, he turned and stole away from the room as silent as a shadow, leaving the last eight years of his life behind and walking into the next eighteen.
--
First one-shot in awhile. I know it wasn't all that great, but I'm working on it :)