(no subject)
Title: Fairytale my ass. (1/?)
Author: alexerjoecool
Rating: PG - 13
Pairing: Mike/Billie
Notes: welp, here we go. The story begins!
After hours of endless pounding, chords, and bass lines the blond finally spoke up.
"Hey I should go...we've got enough for today right?" He looked to his drummer and front man.
"Yeah, sure man." Tré said.
"You gonna get bitched at?" Billie ceased his pen tapping for a second, awaiting his best friends answer.
Mikes large hands cupped his own face, rubbing his eyes in an exasperated fashion, "Yeah I probably will but whatever. She signed up for this."
"Alright man, call us later." They all exchanged goodbyes, locking up the studio.
Mikes drive home consisted of him staring at the road, stopping when called for. His hands gripped then ungripped the wheel every so often out of nervous habit. Billie always yelled at him for that. 'You're going to drive us off the fucking road one of these times,' His best friend would huff. Mike yawned as The Clash played in his car stereo on a low volume. He contemplated what would go on when he pulled into his house. Where his wife, most likely angered at his long absence, would chew him out when all he wanted to do was sleep. Minutes passed and he pulled into his driveway. Yawning, he got out of his car, hitting the lock button. Standing there looking at his blue car for a minute, he debated on getting in and just leaving for Billie's house or Tré's. Mike sighed, that was just foolish and child-like. He has nothing to run from. Time to be a man and face the storm. He made the slow dreadful trek up to his door and opened it.
And Of course, there was Ana sitting in the living room as expected.
Maybe if he was quiet he coul-"Hello, Michael."
Shit, he thought.
"Hey, Ana. What're you doing up?"
"Waiting for my husband." She scoffed.
"You know I don't like you waiting up."
"And you know I don't like you being gone for, basically a whole day." She turned to look at him, obviously pissed off.
"Ana...I don't want to fight with you anymore...not right now..." The blond pleaded to his wifes' merciless stare.
"You are never here anymore, Mike! You're always in the damned studio! What about me, huh? What about your fucking wife?"
"Oh, excuse me. Poor Anastasia. You signed up for this. You knew I was passionate about music and I could be gone for days on end. You said yes to me. Don't play the blame game." He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchens door frame.
"Yeah, well I didn't know you I guess. I don't even know you, Michael. I fucking hate what you've become."
"And I hate the way you fucking treat me." He spat.
"Mike. I want a divorce."
Silence, "You're kidding me. You are going to fucking leave me?"
She slammed the papers onto the counter, "You're fucking right I'm going to leave you."
"Fine then, you bitch! Leave the damned papers here and get out. Ill sign them later. You need to get the fuck out of my house."
"Fuck you, Michael." She stormed past him up the stairs, grabbing a few of her things and slamming the door as she left.
Her little grey car tore out of the drive way and he huffed a sigh walking over to the papers. Thumbing through them, he truly felt alone for the first time in a year or two. The legalities in here were endless. So many terms and rules and stipulations. You'd think he was going to kill her when all he really wanted was just to get her out of his life. He went over to the house phone and dialed his best friends number, which he knew by heart.
"Hello?"
"Hey Beej, it's Mike."
"Hey, Mikey. What's up?"
"Wanna come over? I kind of don't want to be alone right now." He sighed.
"What happened?" Billie's voice had a hint of worry to it.
"Ana wants a divorce..."
"That fucking...Sure thing, Man. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, see you in a few."
He put the phone back into the cradle. He walked over to the fridge and got out a two beers, one for him and one for Billie.
It was going to be a long ass night, he sighed cracking the bottle open.
--
so, once more thank you to those of you who read, and even more thanks for commenting.
xx
Tommie
Author: alexerjoecool
Rating: PG - 13
Pairing: Mike/Billie
Notes: welp, here we go. The story begins!
After hours of endless pounding, chords, and bass lines the blond finally spoke up.
"Hey I should go...we've got enough for today right?" He looked to his drummer and front man.
"Yeah, sure man." Tré said.
"You gonna get bitched at?" Billie ceased his pen tapping for a second, awaiting his best friends answer.
Mikes large hands cupped his own face, rubbing his eyes in an exasperated fashion, "Yeah I probably will but whatever. She signed up for this."
"Alright man, call us later." They all exchanged goodbyes, locking up the studio.
Mikes drive home consisted of him staring at the road, stopping when called for. His hands gripped then ungripped the wheel every so often out of nervous habit. Billie always yelled at him for that. 'You're going to drive us off the fucking road one of these times,' His best friend would huff. Mike yawned as The Clash played in his car stereo on a low volume. He contemplated what would go on when he pulled into his house. Where his wife, most likely angered at his long absence, would chew him out when all he wanted to do was sleep. Minutes passed and he pulled into his driveway. Yawning, he got out of his car, hitting the lock button. Standing there looking at his blue car for a minute, he debated on getting in and just leaving for Billie's house or Tré's. Mike sighed, that was just foolish and child-like. He has nothing to run from. Time to be a man and face the storm. He made the slow dreadful trek up to his door and opened it.
And Of course, there was Ana sitting in the living room as expected.
Maybe if he was quiet he coul-"Hello, Michael."
Shit, he thought.
"Hey, Ana. What're you doing up?"
"Waiting for my husband." She scoffed.
"You know I don't like you waiting up."
"And you know I don't like you being gone for, basically a whole day." She turned to look at him, obviously pissed off.
"Ana...I don't want to fight with you anymore...not right now..." The blond pleaded to his wifes' merciless stare.
"You are never here anymore, Mike! You're always in the damned studio! What about me, huh? What about your fucking wife?"
"Oh, excuse me. Poor Anastasia. You signed up for this. You knew I was passionate about music and I could be gone for days on end. You said yes to me. Don't play the blame game." He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchens door frame.
"Yeah, well I didn't know you I guess. I don't even know you, Michael. I fucking hate what you've become."
"And I hate the way you fucking treat me." He spat.
"Mike. I want a divorce."
Silence, "You're kidding me. You are going to fucking leave me?"
She slammed the papers onto the counter, "You're fucking right I'm going to leave you."
"Fine then, you bitch! Leave the damned papers here and get out. Ill sign them later. You need to get the fuck out of my house."
"Fuck you, Michael." She stormed past him up the stairs, grabbing a few of her things and slamming the door as she left.
Her little grey car tore out of the drive way and he huffed a sigh walking over to the papers. Thumbing through them, he truly felt alone for the first time in a year or two. The legalities in here were endless. So many terms and rules and stipulations. You'd think he was going to kill her when all he really wanted was just to get her out of his life. He went over to the house phone and dialed his best friends number, which he knew by heart.
"Hello?"
"Hey Beej, it's Mike."
"Hey, Mikey. What's up?"
"Wanna come over? I kind of don't want to be alone right now." He sighed.
"What happened?" Billie's voice had a hint of worry to it.
"Ana wants a divorce..."
"That fucking...Sure thing, Man. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, see you in a few."
He put the phone back into the cradle. He walked over to the fridge and got out a two beers, one for him and one for Billie.
It was going to be a long ass night, he sighed cracking the bottle open.
--
so, once more thank you to those of you who read, and even more thanks for commenting.
xx
Tommie