Kick to the heart
So yeah, it's been forever, but I still exist.
I was looking at my old stuff and came across skeletons, and a review from xfrankitax asking for a second chapter.
My life has been kind of a f*cking roller coaster lately, so I felt in the mood to write.
Also, because of National Coming Out week, I have been trying to psych up to write a BJA coming out story.
So here you are, a continuation of skeletons.
Green Day
Billie/Mike
T
Mentioned Self-destruction and ED.
D/c: I own nothing.
- -
Breath frozen in his throat, he slowly turns to face his best friend.
Billie’s eyes slide down Mike’s body to the book in his hand before flicking back up, his face suddenly steeled and small body suddenly tense. But instead of yelling, instead of crying, instead of asking “What the hell are you doing?” or “Why the fuck are you reading that?” he watches Mike silently for a moment and Mike thinks he’s waiting to be judged.
After neither speak for a moment, Billie’s voice rings in Mike’s ears, soft and insecure.
“What did you read?” And for once, Mike can’t read his expression.
The bassist swallows and tries to look away, but those emeralds have him caught. Mike opens his mouth, but no words come. He turns the page to Billie and watches as the smaller man inhales sharply through his nose and tries to hide it.
“What is this, Bill?” He asks as gently as he can manage, but his voice is rough with confusion.
Billie’s eyelids close lightly for a moment, only to reveal swimming greens when they open again. His arms hang limply at his sides, and Mike sees him differently. The man no longer looks small and punky; he looks frail and ragged. He looks exhausted.
“It’s exactly what it says.” The singer replies, void of any recognizable emotion.
“God, Billie...” Mike whispers, noticing for the first time that Billie’s nails are always bitten down, that his hipbones always stick out and that his eyeliner draws attention from the dark circles beneath them. And it’s like a kick to the heart when he realizes he’s never seen what’s right in front of him, not for what it really is.
Billie is staring at the floor and doesn’t expect what comes next.
“I’m so sorry.” Mike whispers, and startled, Billie looks to the taller man, certain he misheard. However, Mike’s eyes threaten to spill with tears and Billie’s scars itch when the guilt hits him. He fingers his wrists unconsciously and chews on his lower lip, not knowing how to feel.
“Don’t... Don’t say that.” Billie begs, almost under his breath. But Mike drags a large fist over his eyes to keep from crying. “Please Mikey, don’t cry. I’m sorry I’m broken...”
Mike drops the book to the floor with a dull thud and pulls him into a hug, mumbling into the smaller man’s hair.
“Goddammit Billie Joe.” He squeezes him tight. “I fucking love you. Don’t you know you can talk to me? I won’t judge you. Ever.”
But Billie doesn’t believe him, so he says nothing and simply hugs Mike back and hopes he will go back to thinking everything is okay. Then he can take his diary and put it back where it belongs-hidden away from the world.
“Tell me right now, Billie,” Mike says, pulling back and looking him dead on. “When did you last eat?” Billie shrugged. “When did you last sleep?” Another shrug. Mike looks down and grabs Billie’s wrists gently, but held tight enough the smaller man couldn’t step back. He brought Billie’s tattooed arms up between their chests. “What am I going to find under these arm bands?” He whispered.
Billie felt the panic beginning to swell in his chest and his heart started hammering. He could feel the hairs on his arms sticking up and his sweat starting to slick his skin. He tried pulling away, but Mike held steady.
“Billie,” His voice was calm and dominant and Billie couldn’t help but feel helpless. However, when Mike began to pull down the arm bands and reveal the angry, raw skin beneath them, all of Billie’s anxiety crashed through his eyes and spilled out onto his cheeks. He let Mike hold him as he sobbed, clinging to his best friend’s shirt and staining it with his tears.
Mike held him until the trembling man stopped heaving.
“Please,” Billie mumbled into Mike’s chest. The taller man separated them a bit to understand. “Take it away.” Was all Billie could or would say. And Mike made the promise, to Billie and to himself.
“I’ll do everything I can, Babe. It’ll be alright.”
- -
*Sigh* I suppose this is what I want. My life is good, but my mind is not. I'm kind of messed up and coming to accept this. But I don't know who to talk to. Or if I want to. So I maybe I will write again.
-J X
I was looking at my old stuff and came across skeletons, and a review from xfrankitax asking for a second chapter.
My life has been kind of a f*cking roller coaster lately, so I felt in the mood to write.
Also, because of National Coming Out week, I have been trying to psych up to write a BJA coming out story.
So here you are, a continuation of skeletons.
Green Day
Billie/Mike
T
Mentioned Self-destruction and ED.
D/c: I own nothing.
- -
Breath frozen in his throat, he slowly turns to face his best friend.
Billie’s eyes slide down Mike’s body to the book in his hand before flicking back up, his face suddenly steeled and small body suddenly tense. But instead of yelling, instead of crying, instead of asking “What the hell are you doing?” or “Why the fuck are you reading that?” he watches Mike silently for a moment and Mike thinks he’s waiting to be judged.
After neither speak for a moment, Billie’s voice rings in Mike’s ears, soft and insecure.
“What did you read?” And for once, Mike can’t read his expression.
The bassist swallows and tries to look away, but those emeralds have him caught. Mike opens his mouth, but no words come. He turns the page to Billie and watches as the smaller man inhales sharply through his nose and tries to hide it.
“What is this, Bill?” He asks as gently as he can manage, but his voice is rough with confusion.
Billie’s eyelids close lightly for a moment, only to reveal swimming greens when they open again. His arms hang limply at his sides, and Mike sees him differently. The man no longer looks small and punky; he looks frail and ragged. He looks exhausted.
“It’s exactly what it says.” The singer replies, void of any recognizable emotion.
“God, Billie...” Mike whispers, noticing for the first time that Billie’s nails are always bitten down, that his hipbones always stick out and that his eyeliner draws attention from the dark circles beneath them. And it’s like a kick to the heart when he realizes he’s never seen what’s right in front of him, not for what it really is.
Billie is staring at the floor and doesn’t expect what comes next.
“I’m so sorry.” Mike whispers, and startled, Billie looks to the taller man, certain he misheard. However, Mike’s eyes threaten to spill with tears and Billie’s scars itch when the guilt hits him. He fingers his wrists unconsciously and chews on his lower lip, not knowing how to feel.
“Don’t... Don’t say that.” Billie begs, almost under his breath. But Mike drags a large fist over his eyes to keep from crying. “Please Mikey, don’t cry. I’m sorry I’m broken...”
Mike drops the book to the floor with a dull thud and pulls him into a hug, mumbling into the smaller man’s hair.
“Goddammit Billie Joe.” He squeezes him tight. “I fucking love you. Don’t you know you can talk to me? I won’t judge you. Ever.”
But Billie doesn’t believe him, so he says nothing and simply hugs Mike back and hopes he will go back to thinking everything is okay. Then he can take his diary and put it back where it belongs-hidden away from the world.
“Tell me right now, Billie,” Mike says, pulling back and looking him dead on. “When did you last eat?” Billie shrugged. “When did you last sleep?” Another shrug. Mike looks down and grabs Billie’s wrists gently, but held tight enough the smaller man couldn’t step back. He brought Billie’s tattooed arms up between their chests. “What am I going to find under these arm bands?” He whispered.
Billie felt the panic beginning to swell in his chest and his heart started hammering. He could feel the hairs on his arms sticking up and his sweat starting to slick his skin. He tried pulling away, but Mike held steady.
“Billie,” His voice was calm and dominant and Billie couldn’t help but feel helpless. However, when Mike began to pull down the arm bands and reveal the angry, raw skin beneath them, all of Billie’s anxiety crashed through his eyes and spilled out onto his cheeks. He let Mike hold him as he sobbed, clinging to his best friend’s shirt and staining it with his tears.
Mike held him until the trembling man stopped heaving.
“Please,” Billie mumbled into Mike’s chest. The taller man separated them a bit to understand. “Take it away.” Was all Billie could or would say. And Mike made the promise, to Billie and to himself.
“I’ll do everything I can, Babe. It’ll be alright.”
- -
*Sigh* I suppose this is what I want. My life is good, but my mind is not. I'm kind of messed up and coming to accept this. But I don't know who to talk to. Or if I want to. So I maybe I will write again.
-J X