nostalgia and cigarettes
title: Nostalgia and Cigarettes[Part 6/?]
author: Sharmel
pairing: Tre/Billie
rating: NC-17
disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in my story. I only own the plot and words.
summary: "He captured my interest. He sparked a new feeling inside me."
previous parts: Here
notes: Someone figured who I am! I'm quite pleased.
1991.
Billie.
“I’m going to college.”
His voice, it rang through my ears like a chiming bell. Over and over, it echoed through my catastrophic mind. After all we’ve been through, that was the last thing I wanted to hear from him. We made a fucking record together. We toured together. We were supposed to become big together. Does he even care about that? Did he even care at all?
“You’re going to college?” I replied in disbelief. I shook my head as if I were unable to comprehend an absurd statement that slapped me across the face.
“Yeah, sorry man. Good luck finding another drummer.” Another slap across the face. His face was all fucking sorry, but his voice, it seemed as if he didn’t give a shit’s ass what happened to my band next. I was outraged.
“That’s all you can fucking say, John? Good luck on finding another drummer? How can you fucking leave Mike and I at a time like this? We’re in the middle making a new album for fuck’s sakes!”
He shrugged and shook his head in an almost sympathetic manner. “I’m sorry man, but if I don’t go to college now, I’ll never be able to finish.”
“Why do you want to go to college? We’re going to get big, John - we’re going to get fucking big. Didn’t you hear what Lawrence said? We outsold the other bands from the label by far. Do you know what this means? People actually like our music. And y’know, I have this fucking feeling that we will make it-”
“You think we’ll make it fucking big, right? Well news flash, Billie. You don’t fucking know that.” John interjected as he folded his arms across his broad chest. “I don’t know about you, but I want to make a decent living so that I can live a decent life. I want a safety net which you definitely lack.”
I opened my mouth and was about to make some naïve statement about making it big for sure. But he was right. There was a huge chance that Green Day would just be another punk band going nowhere. And if that was the case, I wouldn’t know what to do. I dropped out of high school, I had shitty grades, I’m dirtbag-broke, and music was one of the only things I was good at. I didn’t really have an option to fail. But I guess, that was why I wanted Green Day to make it big. I’m nothing without Green Day.
“Save your breath, Billie Joe. I think our band has real potential, but that’s just not good enough. I’m really sorry for leaving you like this, but I just received my letter of acceptance from this one college. So yeah, good luck with finding a drummer. Hope you find a good one. I’ll go pop by Mike’s room and tell him the news. I’ll see you sometime, Billie Joe.”
He looked at me one last time, before heading off to Mike’s room. I heard the door slam.
My feet gave out and I fell on the couch beside me. My body felt numb, and there was no way I was going to cry him a river. Anger washed over me. It was his lost for leaving. He was going to regret it. I will find a fucking better drummer than he ever was. And as those thoughts flooded my mind, I heard the garage side-door slammed shut. John was out of our band and our lives for good.
I sat there for a few moments. Silence had engulfed the house, but I knew that Mike was seething, quietly. Finally, I forced myself to exit the house and enter his room. I found him staring at the floor with his bass lying flat on his lap. His long fingers gently caressed the neck of his precious bass. I couldn’t see the look on his face because of his long hair. But as far as I could tell, we were both on the same boat.
My body acted on its own and slumped down beside him. An inaudible sigh escaped my lips as I forced my head to face him. His eyes glanced toward me. His eyes were no longer playful and bright but rather vacant and dull. From an outsider’s perspective, we must’ve looked like long lost puppies.
After several minutes of silence, I regained my voice. “So, what now?”
Mike sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Beej. I don’t fucking know.”
I suddenly had the urge to smoke a joint. I didn’t know why, but perhaps it was my way of coping with these kinds of losses. But then, I remembered this one party I was invited to. I didn’t felt like going a couple hours before, but now, I definitely did. Free booze, that was something I needed, maybe Mike did, too.
“Let’s not think about this right now. Let’s go to that party I was talking about earlier today, what do you say?”
He shook his head and gently placed his bass against the wall. “Nah, you go. I’m going to take a nap.
I nodded sheepishly as I left him be. He obviously wanted time alone to think about shit, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. So I headed toward the party.
It was early evening and the sun was finally setting. My worn out pair of chucks shuffled across the hard pavement. And as I got closer the building where the party was held, a ton of people were more visible and scattered about. As I entered the building, I took a deep breath. The air reeked of cigarettes, alcohol and sweat - the most common smells of overcrowded parties.
I glanced around and nodded to the people I know. I wasn’t feeling particularly social that moment for obvious reasons, so I just found a case of beer near one of the sofas and helped myself. And as I finished my second beer, my eyes spotted a guy roughly around my age that was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall looking quite bored. I examined him for quite sometime as I gulped down my third and last beer of the night.
I placed the empty bottle down and headed toward him. The closer I got, the more intrigued I was of him. Actually, I found him quite cute.
“Got any smokes?” I asked as I kept my cool. He stared at me as if he wasn’t sure I was actually talking to him. But I, myself, got lost in his eyes. They were a soft shade of baby blue.
Finally, he began to fumble around his pockets until he found his pack. Marlborough. Not bad, not bad at all. He tapped the bottom and handed me a stick. I mumbled a quick thanks and popped it into my mouth. His hands roamed his other pocket for a lighter, and when he finally found one, he lit the cigarette for me. I inhaled and exhaled, and enjoyed the favourable smokes. As I did, I felt him staring at me. I felt as if he were boring holes through me. But I didn’t say anything.
I shifted my eyes toward him one last time before I began to walk away slowly; and somehow, he ended up following me home. But I guess I provoked it, the way my eyes stabbed at his blue ones, I came off as if I wanted him to follow.
He cleared his throat before mumbling weakly and kind’ve pathetically, “So, w-where are we going?” I disregarded his question. I was still enjoying my smokes, and he was going to find out soon anyway.
We made it back to the house, and I stopped in front of Mike’s door. Without much thought, I banged my foot against his door to wake him up. And sure enough, moments later, he opened the door with a death glare. I was tempted to laugh at his ridiculous looking hair, but the thought of John came back to my mind and killed my parade.
“Fuck you, Billie Joe,” Mike muttered as he shuffled back into his room. The new kid and I followed him, and I took my usual spot across Mike’s bed.
Mike sighed deeply as he sat on the foot of his bed. “So, who the fuck is this kid?”
Oh, I nearly forgot to ask his name, or maybe I did and just forgot. So, I merely shrugged and took a last drag of my cigarette before placing it on the ground and stomping it. My eyes dart toward the new kid again. “Who are you, again?”
“Tre,” the new kid stated. What a weird fucking name. But I suppose, it’s better than this one guy’s name: eggplant.
“I’m Billie, and that idiot over there with the crazy hair is Mike,” I said as I lazily nodded my head in Mike’s direction.
Tre nodded and lit his cigarette. I watched him as he scoped Mike’s room out. And finally, I found his eyes linger around Mike’s bass and my guitar.
“You guys in a band?”
My thoughts went back to John and my mood dampened. “Yeah, but the drummer quit.”
“Maybe it was a smart choice for him. Now he had a decent chance of having an alright life,” Mike stated wisely as he picked up his bass and started to play one of our new songs, Christie Road. I guess he did a lot of rationalizing the whole time I was gone. But he was right; John had a shot of getting a decent life.
I glanced back at Tre. I noted that his body built was quite muscular, maybe he was a drummer. I couldn’t be sure though, for all I knew, his instrument might be the fucking accordion. “You play?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
Oh, so he does play drums. I jumped onto my feet and went to the drum set. It was currently hidden by a dirty blanket. “Play something for me.”
He sat down in front of the drums and started off shaky. He was probably just getting used to the layout of the drums. John was left handed, and Tre seemed to be a righty. But he didn’t stop to reorganize it. He finally started to get better. And after playing a couple tunes, I was in fucking awe. Not only was he good, but I was even more impressed with him not reorganizing the set. And I couldn’t help but admire his posture. The longer he played, the more confident he seemed. He hit each symbol and drum with such precision and such grace, he was certainly one of a kind. And that’s when I knew I wanted him in my band. I wanted him in more ways than one.
I smiled as he finally stopped. Sweat dripped from his forehead and I couldn’t help but think how hot he looked. But I snapped my thoughts away from my pants, and thought about the band. “What do you say, man? Wanna be a member for Green Day?”
He paused for a moment before nodding, “Sure, why not?”
And the whole John fiasco disappeared from my worries. After heading Tre play, I was even more confident that Green Day will make it. And not only that, I was intrigued by him. He captured my interest. He sparked a new feeling inside me. And he gave me some much needed hope.
--------------------------------------------
I wanted to write this in Billie's point of view. I thought this lightened the mood a little bit.
So don't be surprised if you occasionally find a chapter in Billie's point of view, or maybe even Mike's.
Also, side note.
Yes, this is Sharmel. I have decided to make this my main account now, hope you guys don't mind. I will be continuing the preg!Tre/Billie story on this account. I've been meaning to do this for a while, haha.
Kudo's to sodapop1ritalin for figuring it out!
author: Sharmel
pairing: Tre/Billie
rating: NC-17
disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in my story. I only own the plot and words.
summary: "He captured my interest. He sparked a new feeling inside me."
previous parts: Here
notes: Someone figured who I am! I'm quite pleased.
1991.
Billie.
“I’m going to college.”
His voice, it rang through my ears like a chiming bell. Over and over, it echoed through my catastrophic mind. After all we’ve been through, that was the last thing I wanted to hear from him. We made a fucking record together. We toured together. We were supposed to become big together. Does he even care about that? Did he even care at all?
“You’re going to college?” I replied in disbelief. I shook my head as if I were unable to comprehend an absurd statement that slapped me across the face.
“Yeah, sorry man. Good luck finding another drummer.” Another slap across the face. His face was all fucking sorry, but his voice, it seemed as if he didn’t give a shit’s ass what happened to my band next. I was outraged.
“That’s all you can fucking say, John? Good luck on finding another drummer? How can you fucking leave Mike and I at a time like this? We’re in the middle making a new album for fuck’s sakes!”
He shrugged and shook his head in an almost sympathetic manner. “I’m sorry man, but if I don’t go to college now, I’ll never be able to finish.”
“Why do you want to go to college? We’re going to get big, John - we’re going to get fucking big. Didn’t you hear what Lawrence said? We outsold the other bands from the label by far. Do you know what this means? People actually like our music. And y’know, I have this fucking feeling that we will make it-”
“You think we’ll make it fucking big, right? Well news flash, Billie. You don’t fucking know that.” John interjected as he folded his arms across his broad chest. “I don’t know about you, but I want to make a decent living so that I can live a decent life. I want a safety net which you definitely lack.”
I opened my mouth and was about to make some naïve statement about making it big for sure. But he was right. There was a huge chance that Green Day would just be another punk band going nowhere. And if that was the case, I wouldn’t know what to do. I dropped out of high school, I had shitty grades, I’m dirtbag-broke, and music was one of the only things I was good at. I didn’t really have an option to fail. But I guess, that was why I wanted Green Day to make it big. I’m nothing without Green Day.
“Save your breath, Billie Joe. I think our band has real potential, but that’s just not good enough. I’m really sorry for leaving you like this, but I just received my letter of acceptance from this one college. So yeah, good luck with finding a drummer. Hope you find a good one. I’ll go pop by Mike’s room and tell him the news. I’ll see you sometime, Billie Joe.”
He looked at me one last time, before heading off to Mike’s room. I heard the door slam.
My feet gave out and I fell on the couch beside me. My body felt numb, and there was no way I was going to cry him a river. Anger washed over me. It was his lost for leaving. He was going to regret it. I will find a fucking better drummer than he ever was. And as those thoughts flooded my mind, I heard the garage side-door slammed shut. John was out of our band and our lives for good.
I sat there for a few moments. Silence had engulfed the house, but I knew that Mike was seething, quietly. Finally, I forced myself to exit the house and enter his room. I found him staring at the floor with his bass lying flat on his lap. His long fingers gently caressed the neck of his precious bass. I couldn’t see the look on his face because of his long hair. But as far as I could tell, we were both on the same boat.
My body acted on its own and slumped down beside him. An inaudible sigh escaped my lips as I forced my head to face him. His eyes glanced toward me. His eyes were no longer playful and bright but rather vacant and dull. From an outsider’s perspective, we must’ve looked like long lost puppies.
After several minutes of silence, I regained my voice. “So, what now?”
Mike sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know, Beej. I don’t fucking know.”
I suddenly had the urge to smoke a joint. I didn’t know why, but perhaps it was my way of coping with these kinds of losses. But then, I remembered this one party I was invited to. I didn’t felt like going a couple hours before, but now, I definitely did. Free booze, that was something I needed, maybe Mike did, too.
“Let’s not think about this right now. Let’s go to that party I was talking about earlier today, what do you say?”
He shook his head and gently placed his bass against the wall. “Nah, you go. I’m going to take a nap.
I nodded sheepishly as I left him be. He obviously wanted time alone to think about shit, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that. So I headed toward the party.
It was early evening and the sun was finally setting. My worn out pair of chucks shuffled across the hard pavement. And as I got closer the building where the party was held, a ton of people were more visible and scattered about. As I entered the building, I took a deep breath. The air reeked of cigarettes, alcohol and sweat - the most common smells of overcrowded parties.
I glanced around and nodded to the people I know. I wasn’t feeling particularly social that moment for obvious reasons, so I just found a case of beer near one of the sofas and helped myself. And as I finished my second beer, my eyes spotted a guy roughly around my age that was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall looking quite bored. I examined him for quite sometime as I gulped down my third and last beer of the night.
I placed the empty bottle down and headed toward him. The closer I got, the more intrigued I was of him. Actually, I found him quite cute.
“Got any smokes?” I asked as I kept my cool. He stared at me as if he wasn’t sure I was actually talking to him. But I, myself, got lost in his eyes. They were a soft shade of baby blue.
Finally, he began to fumble around his pockets until he found his pack. Marlborough. Not bad, not bad at all. He tapped the bottom and handed me a stick. I mumbled a quick thanks and popped it into my mouth. His hands roamed his other pocket for a lighter, and when he finally found one, he lit the cigarette for me. I inhaled and exhaled, and enjoyed the favourable smokes. As I did, I felt him staring at me. I felt as if he were boring holes through me. But I didn’t say anything.
I shifted my eyes toward him one last time before I began to walk away slowly; and somehow, he ended up following me home. But I guess I provoked it, the way my eyes stabbed at his blue ones, I came off as if I wanted him to follow.
He cleared his throat before mumbling weakly and kind’ve pathetically, “So, w-where are we going?” I disregarded his question. I was still enjoying my smokes, and he was going to find out soon anyway.
We made it back to the house, and I stopped in front of Mike’s door. Without much thought, I banged my foot against his door to wake him up. And sure enough, moments later, he opened the door with a death glare. I was tempted to laugh at his ridiculous looking hair, but the thought of John came back to my mind and killed my parade.
“Fuck you, Billie Joe,” Mike muttered as he shuffled back into his room. The new kid and I followed him, and I took my usual spot across Mike’s bed.
Mike sighed deeply as he sat on the foot of his bed. “So, who the fuck is this kid?”
Oh, I nearly forgot to ask his name, or maybe I did and just forgot. So, I merely shrugged and took a last drag of my cigarette before placing it on the ground and stomping it. My eyes dart toward the new kid again. “Who are you, again?”
“Tre,” the new kid stated. What a weird fucking name. But I suppose, it’s better than this one guy’s name: eggplant.
“I’m Billie, and that idiot over there with the crazy hair is Mike,” I said as I lazily nodded my head in Mike’s direction.
Tre nodded and lit his cigarette. I watched him as he scoped Mike’s room out. And finally, I found his eyes linger around Mike’s bass and my guitar.
“You guys in a band?”
My thoughts went back to John and my mood dampened. “Yeah, but the drummer quit.”
“Maybe it was a smart choice for him. Now he had a decent chance of having an alright life,” Mike stated wisely as he picked up his bass and started to play one of our new songs, Christie Road. I guess he did a lot of rationalizing the whole time I was gone. But he was right; John had a shot of getting a decent life.
I glanced back at Tre. I noted that his body built was quite muscular, maybe he was a drummer. I couldn’t be sure though, for all I knew, his instrument might be the fucking accordion. “You play?”
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
Oh, so he does play drums. I jumped onto my feet and went to the drum set. It was currently hidden by a dirty blanket. “Play something for me.”
He sat down in front of the drums and started off shaky. He was probably just getting used to the layout of the drums. John was left handed, and Tre seemed to be a righty. But he didn’t stop to reorganize it. He finally started to get better. And after playing a couple tunes, I was in fucking awe. Not only was he good, but I was even more impressed with him not reorganizing the set. And I couldn’t help but admire his posture. The longer he played, the more confident he seemed. He hit each symbol and drum with such precision and such grace, he was certainly one of a kind. And that’s when I knew I wanted him in my band. I wanted him in more ways than one.
I smiled as he finally stopped. Sweat dripped from his forehead and I couldn’t help but think how hot he looked. But I snapped my thoughts away from my pants, and thought about the band. “What do you say, man? Wanna be a member for Green Day?”
He paused for a moment before nodding, “Sure, why not?”
And the whole John fiasco disappeared from my worries. After heading Tre play, I was even more confident that Green Day will make it. And not only that, I was intrigued by him. He captured my interest. He sparked a new feeling inside me. And he gave me some much needed hope.
--------------------------------------------
I wanted to write this in Billie's point of view. I thought this lightened the mood a little bit.
So don't be surprised if you occasionally find a chapter in Billie's point of view, or maybe even Mike's.
Also, side note.
Yes, this is Sharmel. I have decided to make this my main account now, hope you guys don't mind. I will be continuing the preg!Tre/Billie story on this account. I've been meaning to do this for a while, haha.
Kudo's to sodapop1ritalin for figuring it out!