No One.
Title: No One.
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R. I don't think NC-17.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: A little something I built off of inspiration. o_O
Notes: Long. Seven and a half Word pages. Good, although I think it's a little rushed towards the end. Lemme' know what you think. ^_^
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
----
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't fall in love with him. It's not normal, it's not right. So why do I always feel this way? Every time I see him, I just feel content, like a calm sea. But if he comes up to me, I get nervous and jittery, much like a high school crush. He notices too, because what normal human being gets nervous around their best friend of umpteen years? Not a single one. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this wasn't love. But hell, as soon as he smiled at me, I melted into a puddle of Mike on the floor.
I tried to smile back at him, and I did, but it was forced. I think he noticed I was tense because he winked and blew me a kiss, ducking when Adie slapped him. Trying to be my usual self I shook my head and chuckled at his antics, but deep down I swear my stomach was twisted every which way, much like a vine adapting to a trellis. Adie clung to his arm and drove him away from me, as if she knew something and was trying her best to avoid it. I turned away and went to find Tré, but he were there, where I wanted Tré to be. Alone. Making his way towards me.
He tugged me into an empty dressing room and shut the door with his foot, locking it promptly. It was then that he fisted my collar with both his hands and pulled me into his lips roughly. As soon as our lips clashed, it was a new feeling. Much different from any girl I'd ever kissed. His lips were... rougher, even a little chapped, and the taste of his mouth wasn't anything I'd ever tasted before. It was something like cigarettes and a Pepsi, though I couldn't really tell at the moment, my mind was a flurry of emotions and hesitations.
Finally, we pulled away from each other, gasping for air and clawing at the other's shirt. I closed my eyes and tried very hard to regulate my breathing and heart rate, which had both quickened to a near-fatal rate. I slowly opened my eyes to find his olive orbs staring back, wide and surprised.
"What was that?" I finally muttered, more to myself than to him.
His breathing was just as heavy, "I don't know, Mike, I don't know. I- I'm sorry, man."
I traced his jaw line with my fingers lightly, "Don't be."
"Huh?"
"Don't be sorry."
"I'm not."
"Good." I replied, pushing our lips together once again, finding his kiss much like nicotine. I found myself constantly needing the contact if I wanted to keep my mind and heart running. He flicked his tongue out and grazed it across my bottom lip gently, waiting for me to part my lips. I did so, not wanting to keep him waiting and then forcefully shoved my tongue into his mouth, exploring every contour in it. He moaned into my mouth, gripping my sides harshly with his callused fingers. The door shook with annoyance, as somebody was trying to enter.
"Taken." He called out as casually as possible.
"Billie Joe Armstrong, open this door." Adie's unmistakable voice rang through.
He threw me a look of apology before responding, "Sorry, Adie. Coming." He planted a tender kiss on my lips before going to the door and unlocking it.
"Why the hell was the door locked?" She requested of him.
"We're busy, Adrienne. New song, we just wanted to get some work done on it." He grumbled as I tried not to nervously bite my lip.
"Hmm. Well, I'm sorry. I'm taking off to head back home. Came to say goodbye." She said, almost reluctantly.
"Okay. Well, goodbye." He responded, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. It made me inwardly cringe, but I held it in. And then she was gone, like a snowflake perched on a fingertip, she disappeared from sight. He turned back to me and enveloped me in a hug.
I looked down at him carefully, "This isn't... normal."
"Why do you always give a shit about what society defines as 'normal'? Huh?"
"We're spotlighted by society! We have to remain acceptable to society. Society is what makes us money." I hissed.
"And that's more important than love?"
"It's keeping us all alive, man. I didn't choose to fall in love with you."
"I didn't choose you either! It's just something that... that happens." He replied, his eyes casting downwards.
"Fuck. What if somebody can hear us?"
"Stop giving a shit what other people think, Mike! I can't stand that! That's the reason we aren't together!"
"You act like it's an ongoing thing! It's only been a few minutes!"
"For me," he whispered, "It is an ongoing thing." I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his, before walking out the door and packing up for the next stop.
----
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
Billie Joe and I had tried to make everything work out. It was just fucking impossible to do. We had to keep every little thing, every little touch private. Even Tré couldn't know that we were in love. Fuck, that was hard to accomplish, and how the hell did we manage? It had been months since that night and we hadn't slipped once. It was bound to happen though, nothing good can last. So now Billie Joe is standing at my door and it's... four in the fucking morning, and I know that there is something up.
"What the hell do you want?" I grunted, running my fingers through my matted hair.
Billie Joe brushed by me, into my home, "I wanted to see you."
"At four fucking AM? Jesus, Bill."
"I'm sorry. I just needed to see you, to touch you." He whispered.
"Christ, Bill. I want to sleep... I rarely do that anymore. You've got me too busy thinkin' an' shit."
"Thinkin'? 'Bout what?"
I sighed, really not wanting to get this started up at four in the morning when I should be sleeping, "Can we talk about this tomorrow or somethin'? Please?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, "No. We'll talk about it now."
I knew he wasn't gonna' back down so I moved the couch and signaled for him to sit down next to me, "Billie... Ugh..." I rubbed at my tired eyes, "I've been thinking about... well, us."
"And?" He grunted, narrowing his eye slightly.
"And how are we managing to do," I sighed, "This? I mean, we're not telling anyone."
"Love isn't easy, Mike. You hafta' work at love to make it all sort out right. We can't just, you know, lie back and watch it grow on it's own. We gotta' do somethin' with it."
"I know." I whined at him, pulling at my hair in frustration, "Listen, Bill, I'd love to talk about this more but I really want to go to sleep. In case you didn't hear me, it's four fucking AM."
"I heard you. I heard you loud and clear."
"Good. Then there should be no problem with you going home and my going back to my warm, bed." I groaned, completely exhausted.
"Fine. Go to bed and give up on us. Just. Give. Up."
"Bill, I'm not giving up. I'm... postponing. Stay here tonight?" I offered as a peace offering.
He looked around my living room, "Yeah. I don't wanna' go back."
"You don't hafta' go back, Bill. Just, c'mon. Let's hit the sack." I said getting up and brushing imaginary dirt off my boxers.
He sighed, and followed suit, crawling into the left side of my bed. He snuggled right down and waited for me to join him. I crawled in next to him and wrapped my arms around the smaller man. His body fit into mine perfectly, and he buried his nose into my neck and sighed in content. I looked down and watched his olive eyes close slowly, sleep finally overtaking him. I smiled and watch him sleep for a while, brushing a raven lock out of his face occasionally.
----
When I woke up, there was a strange absence next to me. I got up and pulled on a random t-shirt of the floor and wandered down the hall and out into the kitchen. Billie Joe was cursing at my coffee pot and failing at making anything relatively close to coffee. I leaned in the doorframe and watched him fumble with it, a silent smile playing on my lips. He let out a long string of curses and then put his face in his hands, obviously giving up on it.
I slipped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, "Hey," I said softly, "How 'bout I teach ya' to make good coffee when you're in a bit of a better mood?"
He nodded but didn't say anything, his body shaking lightly.
"Hey, hey. Uhm, don't cry. It's that thought that counts... I- I don't need my morning coffee."
"Yes you do. I- I just wanted to make you love me more so this wasn't so frustrating."
"I can't love you anymore than I do now, Billie Joe." I turned him around so he was facing me and he buried his face in my shirt, his fists clenched around the thin fabric.
"You aren't gonna' love me anymore..." He whined into my soggy chest.
"Because you can't make a cup of coffee?" He choked out a hard sob, "That's not true. I thought it was kinda' endearing... and a little hot."
"You think a grown man crying over a pot of coffee is hot?" He said, a sense of sarcasm lacing his words.
"No. I think you getting pissed over some coffee is hot."
He chuckled into my neck before pulling away, "I got eyeliner all over your shirt-"
"Don't worry 'bout it." I cut him off, standing back and pulling the shirt over my head. I dropped it on the kitchen floor by our feet and then pulled him into me again. I cornered him in the counter and kissed him roughly. His hands snaked up and looped around my neck, pulling me down into his lips. He parted my lips with his tongue and brushed it against the roof of my mouth. I moaned into his mouth and lifted him up. He hooked his legs around my waist and I carried him down to the bedroom, our lips never breaking contact.
I placed him on the bed, turned around so his head was at the foot of the bed. I turned to get lube and a condom out of my bedside drawer but he grabbed my wrist. I turned to him and raised my eyebrow.
"This should be natural. I want to feel you, not a piece of latex."
I smirked and climbed over him. He squirmed a little under my weight before settling in a comfortable position. I kissed his jaw line and then near his temple. He was weak when it came to foreplay, sometimes I wondered if he preferred it to sex itself. I gently bit his earlobe and he whimpered in my ear. I nipped at his neck and then left a trail of kisses along his chest and stomach. I pulled up from his skin when I reached his boxers and hovered over him.
"Don't stop." He whispered, "I want you so fucking bad."
"How bad?"
"So fucking bad, Michael."
He said my full name, I couldn't hold back any longer. I ripped his boxers down off his legs and did the same to mine. I placed him on a pile of pillows and pulled his legs up to my shoulders. I spit in my hand and lubed myself up.
"Want fingers first?"
"No. I can't wait that long, Michael."
I groaned at his demands and positioned myself at his entrance. I took my time to push in and pull out for the first few minutes, but when he stopped wincing in pain I thrust into him deep and hard. I pulled out and sped myself up, pounding into him harder than I ever had before. Long strings of curses fell from both of our lips and filled the air around us. He grabbed hold of himself but I ripped his hand away, and replaced it with my right hand, my left hand gripping his waist. I pumped him at a rate almost matching my thrusts, holding on until he came first.
"Ugh- Fuck, Mike. Mike I'm gonn-" I looked down to find my hand and most of his stomach covered in his milky substance. His head was thrown back and his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. At the sight of his face tensed up like that I couldn't hold on anymore and spilled deep inside of him. I waited a little while and then pulled out of him, collapsing next to him. I kissed his temple and laid my arm over his chest.
"We're gonna' need to, ya' know, clean up." I laughed.
"Yeah." He said chuckling, "We are."
"If this is the kinda' work it takes to make love successful, we should have the best relationship."
"I think we do."
----
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
I had finally come to terms with being in love with Billie Joe. I decided I wanted to talk to him about leaving Adie and possibly making our relationship public. I knew I had to tell him I didn't give a shit about society anymore. So I called him.
"Yello?"
"Hey... it's Mike."
"Yeah... I know that."
"Oh, uh, duh. I, uh, wanted to know if you wanted to come over and, uhm, talk."
"Talk?"
"Yeah. There's something I want to tell you."
A sigh, "There's something I wanna' talk to you about too..."
"Well, then it makes sense for you to, ya' know, come over and talk."
"Yeah." He replied, his voice leery and hesitant.
I went outside and sat on my front step, lighting up a smoke. I took a drag and closed my eyes as the nicotine flooded through me like missile. I relaxed and deepened my breaths, letting myself relax. This felt like a fucking proposal, and it shouldn't. It was nothing close, but I was about to ask him to give up his whole life for me and me alone. I stubbed out my cancer stick on the concrete and whispered, "Am I being greedy?" before he pulled into my driveway.
I got up and greeted him as he stepped out, "Hey... thanks for, ya' know, comin' and all."
"Yeah... I needed to talk to ya' anyway."
"What about?"
"Let's, uhm," He sounded really nervous, "Go inside." I nodded and followed him into my house where he sat at the dining room table, patting the spot across from him. I grunted and walked around the table, seating myself comfortably across from him.
I leaned forward and rested my chin in my palms, "So, should I go first or do you wanna'?"
He sighed and looked to the side, "Uhm," he turned and his olive eyes looked troubled, "I'm gonna' go first... just to... get this over with."
I gulped, "Over with?"
He looked down to his lap, "Yeah. So..." he sighed, "Shit. I don't have any fucking idea where to start."
"Try the beginning." I offered, sensing that this was really bad news and that he was nervous for reasons totally opposite of my own.
"Probably smart." He mumbled, "I- Adrienne means the world to me. And the boys. And the band. And you. You mean the world to me. You know that right, Mike?"
"Yeah... I know that." I whispered, while he reached out and covered my hands with his own.
"I want to be with you, Mike. But... if we make that move... I'm scared about what will happen to the boys. How they'll take it."
"Tons of kids around the world deal with divorce."
"I know. I know. But it wrecks them, ya' know? You're parents got divorced, you were devastated."
I pulled my hands away from him and rubbed my eyes, "But in the long run, it didn't matter anymore."
"I just don't want to hurt them... or Adrienne."
"So what are you saying?" I shot at him.
"I'm saying I don't love you anymore."
I felt my eyes at least triple in size and the tears prickle through. I tried to blink away the tears but I failed, giving up and letting them cascade down my pale cheeks. He leaned forward to touch my shoulder but I stood up, toppling the chair over behind me, "Don't fucking touch me."
"Michael-"
"No. Don't say anything... don't make... it any... worse than it already... is." I choked out between sobs.
"Just, Mike, jus' lemme' finish."
"No! I don't want to here about how perfect you want to keep things for her and the boys." I snarled.
"Mike, please! Hear me out."
I whipped around to face him, "Fine. Talk. Tell me all about how you don't love me anymore and how you want to protect the woman you cheated on."
"Mike." He moved towards me and placed his hands on either cheek, brushing away tears with his thumbs, "I still want to work the band. I still want to be friends. I want it all to be the same it was before we... we were lovers."
"Unfortunately, Billie Joe, that can't happen. I can't do that for you. I have to think of myself sometimes-"
"I know. But imagine how many fans would be crushed, what would happen to us, if the band broke up."
"Fuck the fans, Billie Joe. Stop giving a shit what other people think." I spat, knowing that those words were gone but not forgotten.
"I'm sorry... but don't you think we're avoiding more if we just stop... this and move on?"
"No. But I know how I'm going to avoid it."
"How, Mike?"
I shook my head and went upstairs, locking myself in the guest bathroom. The guy's kept their meds in here for when they stay over. I opened the cabinet and curled my fingers around a bright orange bottle of sleeping pills.
Billie Joe was beating on the door, "Mike? Mike, what are ya' doin'?"
"Goodbye, Billie Joe. You can go now."
"Don't- don't say that. Why do you sound so calm? It's kinda' freaking me out, man."
I shook the bottle near the door, "Hear that, Billie Joe? That's how I'm gonna avoid this mess."
"Mike?" He whimpered quietly, "What’re you doin'?" He was fiddling with the doorknob, but I didn't care. I twisted the cap off and poured the huge amount of pills on the counter. I knelt down to look for a large glass under the sink. I spotted one, but knew I had some digging to do to get to it. I sat on the floor and began pulling out the many various items that were blocking me from that cup.
"Bill, I locked the door. You can't get in." I stated, my hands starting to shake at the prospect of what I actually was about to do. I got to the cup and stood up, filling it with water. I grabbed a massive handful of pills with my free hand and scooped them up. I held them to my mouth with a shaky hand I tipped back, just about to release the pills when something nailed me in the head. The pills flew every which way while I landed myself near the bathtub.
"Mike!" Billie Joe yelped, kneeling down to hold me. He was crying and his eyeliner was leaking down his cheeks, I wrapped my arms around him while he buried his face in my neck.
"Didja' hafta' hit me in the head with a door?"
"It stopped you from-"
"I don't care. I didn't want to be stopped."
"I wanted to stop you. I really don’t think killing yourself is the answer!”
“You’re right. It’s not my best option, but what else can I do? How else can I stop the pain?”
“This hurts me too, Mike-“
“Then somewhere tonight, you lied.”
“I lied to you?”
“Well, Billie Joe, you said you didn’t love me anymore.” I paused, “If that’s true, why would it hurt?”
“It only hurts because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see you doing this to yourself an-“
“Doing what Billie Joe?”
“Attempting suicide, Mike! Do you even realize you were about to end your own life? Has that registered yet?” He yelled, his eyes a dangerous combination of anger and sadness.
“Yeah. It has registered. Do you realize that it’s your fault?”
“What if I woulda’ come over here to propose? Hmm? What would ya’ have done then?”
“Said yes.”
Billie Joe looked away, “I- I din’t think ya’d say that…”
“Well, Billie Joe, I did.”
“I know. I fucking know.” His voice was quiet and shaky, “I’m scared to leave you.”
“Why are you scared?” I ventured.
“I’m scared that if- if I leave…” He took a shaky breath, “You’ll try and- you know, again.”
“What if I promise I won’t? I- I don’t want to h-hurt you any-“ I cleared my throat, “Anymore.”
“I- I don’t want to go, Mike. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Fucking hell, you won’t. I promise.”
“P-promise?”
“Promise.” He nodded and roughly brushed his lips against mine, getting up and brushing his pants off. He sent me a look of regret, his emerald eyes pooling with emotion and sympathy. His lip was quivering and he turned and walked down the hall. I didn’t move to get up; I just lay there until I heard the door close and his car drive away through my open windows.
Eventually, I forced myself to get up. I looked in the mirror to see the damage. Besides my swollen eyes, my whole left cheek was smeared with raven eyeliner. I gently laid my fingers on the smudges and rubbed them off, my only reminder left that we had been in love. I turned off the light and wandered to the entryway, where I stood in the doorway to see if he came back, to see if he changed his mind. He never did.
----
It’s been a few years since that night when he left. We stayed friends, but when we were left alone, it was awkward and heavy. Nobody ever knew about what we had, and I still wonder how we did it. Then again, I wonder about a lot of things, like what would’ve happened if I had been the first to talk. If I would’ve proposed. Would he have changed his mind? Would he have left Adie knowing that I was indeed serious, that I had given up on caring about what society thought. Would it have changed anything?
----
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
Rifinito.
----
You likey? I think it got a little weird at the end, seeing as I was really antsy to get it finished for you guys. Seven and a half pages on Word. I'm quite proud of the length... just not too sure about the ending...
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: R. I don't think NC-17.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan Fiction.
Summary: A little something I built off of inspiration. o_O
Notes: Long. Seven and a half Word pages. Good, although I think it's a little rushed towards the end. Lemme' know what you think. ^_^
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
----
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't fall in love with him. It's not normal, it's not right. So why do I always feel this way? Every time I see him, I just feel content, like a calm sea. But if he comes up to me, I get nervous and jittery, much like a high school crush. He notices too, because what normal human being gets nervous around their best friend of umpteen years? Not a single one. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this wasn't love. But hell, as soon as he smiled at me, I melted into a puddle of Mike on the floor.
I tried to smile back at him, and I did, but it was forced. I think he noticed I was tense because he winked and blew me a kiss, ducking when Adie slapped him. Trying to be my usual self I shook my head and chuckled at his antics, but deep down I swear my stomach was twisted every which way, much like a vine adapting to a trellis. Adie clung to his arm and drove him away from me, as if she knew something and was trying her best to avoid it. I turned away and went to find Tré, but he were there, where I wanted Tré to be. Alone. Making his way towards me.
He tugged me into an empty dressing room and shut the door with his foot, locking it promptly. It was then that he fisted my collar with both his hands and pulled me into his lips roughly. As soon as our lips clashed, it was a new feeling. Much different from any girl I'd ever kissed. His lips were... rougher, even a little chapped, and the taste of his mouth wasn't anything I'd ever tasted before. It was something like cigarettes and a Pepsi, though I couldn't really tell at the moment, my mind was a flurry of emotions and hesitations.
Finally, we pulled away from each other, gasping for air and clawing at the other's shirt. I closed my eyes and tried very hard to regulate my breathing and heart rate, which had both quickened to a near-fatal rate. I slowly opened my eyes to find his olive orbs staring back, wide and surprised.
"What was that?" I finally muttered, more to myself than to him.
His breathing was just as heavy, "I don't know, Mike, I don't know. I- I'm sorry, man."
I traced his jaw line with my fingers lightly, "Don't be."
"Huh?"
"Don't be sorry."
"I'm not."
"Good." I replied, pushing our lips together once again, finding his kiss much like nicotine. I found myself constantly needing the contact if I wanted to keep my mind and heart running. He flicked his tongue out and grazed it across my bottom lip gently, waiting for me to part my lips. I did so, not wanting to keep him waiting and then forcefully shoved my tongue into his mouth, exploring every contour in it. He moaned into my mouth, gripping my sides harshly with his callused fingers. The door shook with annoyance, as somebody was trying to enter.
"Taken." He called out as casually as possible.
"Billie Joe Armstrong, open this door." Adie's unmistakable voice rang through.
He threw me a look of apology before responding, "Sorry, Adie. Coming." He planted a tender kiss on my lips before going to the door and unlocking it.
"Why the hell was the door locked?" She requested of him.
"We're busy, Adrienne. New song, we just wanted to get some work done on it." He grumbled as I tried not to nervously bite my lip.
"Hmm. Well, I'm sorry. I'm taking off to head back home. Came to say goodbye." She said, almost reluctantly.
"Okay. Well, goodbye." He responded, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. It made me inwardly cringe, but I held it in. And then she was gone, like a snowflake perched on a fingertip, she disappeared from sight. He turned back to me and enveloped me in a hug.
I looked down at him carefully, "This isn't... normal."
"Why do you always give a shit about what society defines as 'normal'? Huh?"
"We're spotlighted by society! We have to remain acceptable to society. Society is what makes us money." I hissed.
"And that's more important than love?"
"It's keeping us all alive, man. I didn't choose to fall in love with you."
"I didn't choose you either! It's just something that... that happens." He replied, his eyes casting downwards.
"Fuck. What if somebody can hear us?"
"Stop giving a shit what other people think, Mike! I can't stand that! That's the reason we aren't together!"
"You act like it's an ongoing thing! It's only been a few minutes!"
"For me," he whispered, "It is an ongoing thing." I leaned forward and brushed my lips over his, before walking out the door and packing up for the next stop.
----
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
Billie Joe and I had tried to make everything work out. It was just fucking impossible to do. We had to keep every little thing, every little touch private. Even Tré couldn't know that we were in love. Fuck, that was hard to accomplish, and how the hell did we manage? It had been months since that night and we hadn't slipped once. It was bound to happen though, nothing good can last. So now Billie Joe is standing at my door and it's... four in the fucking morning, and I know that there is something up.
"What the hell do you want?" I grunted, running my fingers through my matted hair.
Billie Joe brushed by me, into my home, "I wanted to see you."
"At four fucking AM? Jesus, Bill."
"I'm sorry. I just needed to see you, to touch you." He whispered.
"Christ, Bill. I want to sleep... I rarely do that anymore. You've got me too busy thinkin' an' shit."
"Thinkin'? 'Bout what?"
I sighed, really not wanting to get this started up at four in the morning when I should be sleeping, "Can we talk about this tomorrow or somethin'? Please?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, "No. We'll talk about it now."
I knew he wasn't gonna' back down so I moved the couch and signaled for him to sit down next to me, "Billie... Ugh..." I rubbed at my tired eyes, "I've been thinking about... well, us."
"And?" He grunted, narrowing his eye slightly.
"And how are we managing to do," I sighed, "This? I mean, we're not telling anyone."
"Love isn't easy, Mike. You hafta' work at love to make it all sort out right. We can't just, you know, lie back and watch it grow on it's own. We gotta' do somethin' with it."
"I know." I whined at him, pulling at my hair in frustration, "Listen, Bill, I'd love to talk about this more but I really want to go to sleep. In case you didn't hear me, it's four fucking AM."
"I heard you. I heard you loud and clear."
"Good. Then there should be no problem with you going home and my going back to my warm, bed." I groaned, completely exhausted.
"Fine. Go to bed and give up on us. Just. Give. Up."
"Bill, I'm not giving up. I'm... postponing. Stay here tonight?" I offered as a peace offering.
He looked around my living room, "Yeah. I don't wanna' go back."
"You don't hafta' go back, Bill. Just, c'mon. Let's hit the sack." I said getting up and brushing imaginary dirt off my boxers.
He sighed, and followed suit, crawling into the left side of my bed. He snuggled right down and waited for me to join him. I crawled in next to him and wrapped my arms around the smaller man. His body fit into mine perfectly, and he buried his nose into my neck and sighed in content. I looked down and watched his olive eyes close slowly, sleep finally overtaking him. I smiled and watch him sleep for a while, brushing a raven lock out of his face occasionally.
----
When I woke up, there was a strange absence next to me. I got up and pulled on a random t-shirt of the floor and wandered down the hall and out into the kitchen. Billie Joe was cursing at my coffee pot and failing at making anything relatively close to coffee. I leaned in the doorframe and watched him fumble with it, a silent smile playing on my lips. He let out a long string of curses and then put his face in his hands, obviously giving up on it.
I slipped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, "Hey," I said softly, "How 'bout I teach ya' to make good coffee when you're in a bit of a better mood?"
He nodded but didn't say anything, his body shaking lightly.
"Hey, hey. Uhm, don't cry. It's that thought that counts... I- I don't need my morning coffee."
"Yes you do. I- I just wanted to make you love me more so this wasn't so frustrating."
"I can't love you anymore than I do now, Billie Joe." I turned him around so he was facing me and he buried his face in my shirt, his fists clenched around the thin fabric.
"You aren't gonna' love me anymore..." He whined into my soggy chest.
"Because you can't make a cup of coffee?" He choked out a hard sob, "That's not true. I thought it was kinda' endearing... and a little hot."
"You think a grown man crying over a pot of coffee is hot?" He said, a sense of sarcasm lacing his words.
"No. I think you getting pissed over some coffee is hot."
He chuckled into my neck before pulling away, "I got eyeliner all over your shirt-"
"Don't worry 'bout it." I cut him off, standing back and pulling the shirt over my head. I dropped it on the kitchen floor by our feet and then pulled him into me again. I cornered him in the counter and kissed him roughly. His hands snaked up and looped around my neck, pulling me down into his lips. He parted my lips with his tongue and brushed it against the roof of my mouth. I moaned into his mouth and lifted him up. He hooked his legs around my waist and I carried him down to the bedroom, our lips never breaking contact.
I placed him on the bed, turned around so his head was at the foot of the bed. I turned to get lube and a condom out of my bedside drawer but he grabbed my wrist. I turned to him and raised my eyebrow.
"This should be natural. I want to feel you, not a piece of latex."
I smirked and climbed over him. He squirmed a little under my weight before settling in a comfortable position. I kissed his jaw line and then near his temple. He was weak when it came to foreplay, sometimes I wondered if he preferred it to sex itself. I gently bit his earlobe and he whimpered in my ear. I nipped at his neck and then left a trail of kisses along his chest and stomach. I pulled up from his skin when I reached his boxers and hovered over him.
"Don't stop." He whispered, "I want you so fucking bad."
"How bad?"
"So fucking bad, Michael."
He said my full name, I couldn't hold back any longer. I ripped his boxers down off his legs and did the same to mine. I placed him on a pile of pillows and pulled his legs up to my shoulders. I spit in my hand and lubed myself up.
"Want fingers first?"
"No. I can't wait that long, Michael."
I groaned at his demands and positioned myself at his entrance. I took my time to push in and pull out for the first few minutes, but when he stopped wincing in pain I thrust into him deep and hard. I pulled out and sped myself up, pounding into him harder than I ever had before. Long strings of curses fell from both of our lips and filled the air around us. He grabbed hold of himself but I ripped his hand away, and replaced it with my right hand, my left hand gripping his waist. I pumped him at a rate almost matching my thrusts, holding on until he came first.
"Ugh- Fuck, Mike. Mike I'm gonn-" I looked down to find my hand and most of his stomach covered in his milky substance. His head was thrown back and his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. At the sight of his face tensed up like that I couldn't hold on anymore and spilled deep inside of him. I waited a little while and then pulled out of him, collapsing next to him. I kissed his temple and laid my arm over his chest.
"We're gonna' need to, ya' know, clean up." I laughed.
"Yeah." He said chuckling, "We are."
"If this is the kinda' work it takes to make love successful, we should have the best relationship."
"I think we do."
----
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
I had finally come to terms with being in love with Billie Joe. I decided I wanted to talk to him about leaving Adie and possibly making our relationship public. I knew I had to tell him I didn't give a shit about society anymore. So I called him.
"Yello?"
"Hey... it's Mike."
"Yeah... I know that."
"Oh, uh, duh. I, uh, wanted to know if you wanted to come over and, uhm, talk."
"Talk?"
"Yeah. There's something I want to tell you."
A sigh, "There's something I wanna' talk to you about too..."
"Well, then it makes sense for you to, ya' know, come over and talk."
"Yeah." He replied, his voice leery and hesitant.
I went outside and sat on my front step, lighting up a smoke. I took a drag and closed my eyes as the nicotine flooded through me like missile. I relaxed and deepened my breaths, letting myself relax. This felt like a fucking proposal, and it shouldn't. It was nothing close, but I was about to ask him to give up his whole life for me and me alone. I stubbed out my cancer stick on the concrete and whispered, "Am I being greedy?" before he pulled into my driveway.
I got up and greeted him as he stepped out, "Hey... thanks for, ya' know, comin' and all."
"Yeah... I needed to talk to ya' anyway."
"What about?"
"Let's, uhm," He sounded really nervous, "Go inside." I nodded and followed him into my house where he sat at the dining room table, patting the spot across from him. I grunted and walked around the table, seating myself comfortably across from him.
I leaned forward and rested my chin in my palms, "So, should I go first or do you wanna'?"
He sighed and looked to the side, "Uhm," he turned and his olive eyes looked troubled, "I'm gonna' go first... just to... get this over with."
I gulped, "Over with?"
He looked down to his lap, "Yeah. So..." he sighed, "Shit. I don't have any fucking idea where to start."
"Try the beginning." I offered, sensing that this was really bad news and that he was nervous for reasons totally opposite of my own.
"Probably smart." He mumbled, "I- Adrienne means the world to me. And the boys. And the band. And you. You mean the world to me. You know that right, Mike?"
"Yeah... I know that." I whispered, while he reached out and covered my hands with his own.
"I want to be with you, Mike. But... if we make that move... I'm scared about what will happen to the boys. How they'll take it."
"Tons of kids around the world deal with divorce."
"I know. I know. But it wrecks them, ya' know? You're parents got divorced, you were devastated."
I pulled my hands away from him and rubbed my eyes, "But in the long run, it didn't matter anymore."
"I just don't want to hurt them... or Adrienne."
"So what are you saying?" I shot at him.
"I'm saying I don't love you anymore."
I felt my eyes at least triple in size and the tears prickle through. I tried to blink away the tears but I failed, giving up and letting them cascade down my pale cheeks. He leaned forward to touch my shoulder but I stood up, toppling the chair over behind me, "Don't fucking touch me."
"Michael-"
"No. Don't say anything... don't make... it any... worse than it already... is." I choked out between sobs.
"Just, Mike, jus' lemme' finish."
"No! I don't want to here about how perfect you want to keep things for her and the boys." I snarled.
"Mike, please! Hear me out."
I whipped around to face him, "Fine. Talk. Tell me all about how you don't love me anymore and how you want to protect the woman you cheated on."
"Mike." He moved towards me and placed his hands on either cheek, brushing away tears with his thumbs, "I still want to work the band. I still want to be friends. I want it all to be the same it was before we... we were lovers."
"Unfortunately, Billie Joe, that can't happen. I can't do that for you. I have to think of myself sometimes-"
"I know. But imagine how many fans would be crushed, what would happen to us, if the band broke up."
"Fuck the fans, Billie Joe. Stop giving a shit what other people think." I spat, knowing that those words were gone but not forgotten.
"I'm sorry... but don't you think we're avoiding more if we just stop... this and move on?"
"No. But I know how I'm going to avoid it."
"How, Mike?"
I shook my head and went upstairs, locking myself in the guest bathroom. The guy's kept their meds in here for when they stay over. I opened the cabinet and curled my fingers around a bright orange bottle of sleeping pills.
Billie Joe was beating on the door, "Mike? Mike, what are ya' doin'?"
"Goodbye, Billie Joe. You can go now."
"Don't- don't say that. Why do you sound so calm? It's kinda' freaking me out, man."
I shook the bottle near the door, "Hear that, Billie Joe? That's how I'm gonna avoid this mess."
"Mike?" He whimpered quietly, "What’re you doin'?" He was fiddling with the doorknob, but I didn't care. I twisted the cap off and poured the huge amount of pills on the counter. I knelt down to look for a large glass under the sink. I spotted one, but knew I had some digging to do to get to it. I sat on the floor and began pulling out the many various items that were blocking me from that cup.
"Bill, I locked the door. You can't get in." I stated, my hands starting to shake at the prospect of what I actually was about to do. I got to the cup and stood up, filling it with water. I grabbed a massive handful of pills with my free hand and scooped them up. I held them to my mouth with a shaky hand I tipped back, just about to release the pills when something nailed me in the head. The pills flew every which way while I landed myself near the bathtub.
"Mike!" Billie Joe yelped, kneeling down to hold me. He was crying and his eyeliner was leaking down his cheeks, I wrapped my arms around him while he buried his face in my neck.
"Didja' hafta' hit me in the head with a door?"
"It stopped you from-"
"I don't care. I didn't want to be stopped."
"I wanted to stop you. I really don’t think killing yourself is the answer!”
“You’re right. It’s not my best option, but what else can I do? How else can I stop the pain?”
“This hurts me too, Mike-“
“Then somewhere tonight, you lied.”
“I lied to you?”
“Well, Billie Joe, you said you didn’t love me anymore.” I paused, “If that’s true, why would it hurt?”
“It only hurts because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see you doing this to yourself an-“
“Doing what Billie Joe?”
“Attempting suicide, Mike! Do you even realize you were about to end your own life? Has that registered yet?” He yelled, his eyes a dangerous combination of anger and sadness.
“Yeah. It has registered. Do you realize that it’s your fault?”
“What if I woulda’ come over here to propose? Hmm? What would ya’ have done then?”
“Said yes.”
Billie Joe looked away, “I- I din’t think ya’d say that…”
“Well, Billie Joe, I did.”
“I know. I fucking know.” His voice was quiet and shaky, “I’m scared to leave you.”
“Why are you scared?” I ventured.
“I’m scared that if- if I leave…” He took a shaky breath, “You’ll try and- you know, again.”
“What if I promise I won’t? I- I don’t want to h-hurt you any-“ I cleared my throat, “Anymore.”
“I- I don’t want to go, Mike. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Fucking hell, you won’t. I promise.”
“P-promise?”
“Promise.” He nodded and roughly brushed his lips against mine, getting up and brushing his pants off. He sent me a look of regret, his emerald eyes pooling with emotion and sympathy. His lip was quivering and he turned and walked down the hall. I didn’t move to get up; I just lay there until I heard the door close and his car drive away through my open windows.
Eventually, I forced myself to get up. I looked in the mirror to see the damage. Besides my swollen eyes, my whole left cheek was smeared with raven eyeliner. I gently laid my fingers on the smudges and rubbed them off, my only reminder left that we had been in love. I turned off the light and wandered to the entryway, where I stood in the doorway to see if he came back, to see if he changed his mind. He never did.
----
It’s been a few years since that night when he left. We stayed friends, but when we were left alone, it was awkward and heavy. Nobody ever knew about what we had, and I still wonder how we did it. Then again, I wonder about a lot of things, like what would’ve happened if I had been the first to talk. If I would’ve proposed. Would he have changed his mind? Would he have left Adie knowing that I was indeed serious, that I had given up on caring about what society thought. Would it have changed anything?
----
No one falls in love by choice, it is by chance.
No one stays in love by chance, it is by work.
And no one falls out of love by chance, it is by choice.
Rifinito.
----
You likey? I think it got a little weird at the end, seeing as I was really antsy to get it finished for you guys. Seven and a half pages on Word. I'm quite proud of the length... just not too sure about the ending...