As Long As I Could
Title: As Long As I Could
Author: Tas (tasyfa)
Pairing: Billie/Mike; mentions of Billie/Lars, Billie/Adrienne, James/Lars
Word Count: 5056
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: I own only the words; the people own themselves.
Summary: "Let's put it all out there so we can deal with it because I've known you too fucking long for all this bullshit." Fences had been mended three years ago and promises had been made, but everything had changed at that awards afterparty. Now, two old friends need to figure out what it means.
Author's Notes: Takes place about a week after the end of The Folly of Wayward Saints. The second of two 'deleted scenes' from Billie Joe. Sort of a partner piece to Confessions of a Drummer, the second 'deleted scene' from Lars, as written by looking_spiffy (though chronologically, it fits in just before Lars's first deleted scene, Still A Whisper). The title comes from the song Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol. [lyrics; download]
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hey, Bill. C'mon in. Mike's in the living room."
Billie's step faltered slightly at that pronouncement and he automatically checked his watch. Tré caught him and laughed.
"No, you're early, but he was even earlier. It's okay." He squeezed Billie's shoulder reassuringly, his hand dropping before they reached the room that held Mike. Held Billie's near lifelong best friend and former lover.
Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick. His stomach churned with the worst fucking case of butterflies he'd ever had as they stepped into Tré's living room. He summoned a smile, feeling it sit wrongly on his mouth even as he tried to project a calmness that he completely didn't feel.
"Hi." Mike spoke quietly, his tone unthreatening, as if he sensed the maelstrom of nerves that had replaced Billie's insides. It made the pressure ease up a little and the smile settled properly into place. Smaller, yes, but genuine now.
At Tré's wave, Billie sat on the chair beside the couch where Mike was and waited for the drummer's parting words.
"Claudia's taken Frankito to her parents' for the weekend, so you have the place to yourselves. Take all the time you need, all right? Try not to break my house, please." He looked back and forth between them, brow furrowing. Billie hated to put him in this position, but they'd all agreed that it would be best to meet on neutral ground this first time, and this was the only way they could think to do that and ensure total privacy.
"We'll be fine, Tré, and so will your property. Thanks, dude," Mike replied and Billie simply nodded agreement.
He sighed, echoing the nod. "Right. You know I'll be at Dirnt's if you need me." Tré hesitated, and then left his own home without another word, trusting to the both of them to work things out.
Silence stretched between Mike and Billie Joe, given weight by the friendship counted in decades and texture by the nature of Billie's betrayal of it.
Finally Billie shifted, feeling like he might suffocate from the lack of words any minute and knowing that his was the first move to make in any case.
"Mike, I'm sorry. I owe you the hugest apology, and I know that that doesn't make anything right, but I'm going to say it anyway. I am sorry."
His head tilted, cheekbone slicing the air as he regarded Billie with steady eyes. "What, exactly, are you sorry for?"
Billie opened his mouth and it hung there, silent, because he had no idea what to say. He was not about to lie and say he was sorry for having sex with Lars; he wasn't. Nor was he precisely apologetic about having fallen out of love with Mike because that had been out of his hands. One corner of Mike's mouth lifted in a cynical smirk at Billie's total loss for words, and smoothly he filled them in.
"You're sorry you got caught? You're sorry that I had to watch while you got fucked like a cheap whore? You're sorry that James walked in and your fuck-buddy didn't get to shoot his wad into your ass? Which is it, Billie, huh?"
Billie Joe swallowed heavily, the conversational feel of the questions hitting harder than straight-up venom would have. But his head stayed high and he answered as best as he could, thankful that his voice remained relatively even although his eyes focused on the dangling earring rather than the gaze boring into him. "All of those. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't figure things out sooner. I'm sorry I put our band and our friendship in jeopardy." Billie sighed, weariness floating out to cover him with a layer of aching. He rubbed at his scalp, fingers tangling in the mop of dark hair, as futile a gesture as always yet one he performed automatically when speech came hard. He whispered, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."
Mike raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I know. I know you didn't do it on purpose, Bill. It's just that I keep seeing," he paused, shoulder twitching in a pre-emptive shrug, "the way you looked when he started to fuck you, and all the blood, and-and then that kiss, you know? You knew I was right there and you still kissed him. You still fucked him and came all over him. Christ, and the passion on your face…"
Billie's expressive mouth tightened. "I can't take it back, Mike." I wouldn't even if I could. He didn't know what kind of asshole that made him, but he honestly didn't know if anything less absolute would have been able to break their hold on each other. Friends since the age of ten, lovers since they were seventeen; it wasn't easy to let it go.
Easier for him than it would be for Mike, or for Lars for that matter. James had had a big head start on his process, of course, and it still burned him up that the other frontman hadn't had the decency to explain that to his drummer upfront - had instead let it linger, let Lars believe everything was actually getting better when in fact James had planned to end it for so long. Billie might have been the one to end his own relationship, and the manner of that might have been about as hurtful as humanly possible, but it had still ended as soon as he'd known the truth about his feelings. He hadn't left Mike fucking dangling in false hope. And James was still keeping Lars waiting, because they were finishing out their concert dates and Billie knew nothing would get said between them until that was over.
He wondered if he would ever stop being angry about all that. Maybe if Lars ever healed.
"Yeah." The nodding head brought him back to the conversation. "I know that, too. I remember a time when you looked like that for me, when we first moved out of your mom's house into that slum and we spent the first night on our own taking each other's ass virginity."
"I remember that." A sweet memory even now. What had happened could only fuck up the future, not erase the past. "I still remember everything. It's still important to me."
The bassist didn't seem to have heard him, eyes unfocussed as he spoke. "I thought at the time that your face had changed because it felt good enough to ignore the pain but I guess that wasn't it, was it? All those years we were sleeping together and I never knew you were into that. Never even guessed it."
"I didn't know either. Not consciously. Not then."
He let out a short laugh. "Not until you spent the night with him. The first time. That's when you figured it out, right?"
Billie nodded. "Yeah, that night kind of changed things."
That blue gaze sharpened, arrowing in on him. "Changed things?"
He squirmed a little internally. That was more than he'd meant to admit. "Well, yeah, I mean it showed me some things about myself. That's what sent me back to you to try to make it right, make it work. That's what let me access whatever fucking part of my head composes again. Some stuff happened with Adie later that turned out to be really good for us. I don't know. Things changed."
"Speaking of, what does your wife think of all this?"
"She doesn't get involved unless it directly affects her, you know that. The first and last time she did, you fucking kissed her, remember?"
"No, I don't remember, Bill. I was too fucking drunk to know what I was doing in case that part has slipped your mind." He sighed. "You're such a fucking hypocrite."
"I know." He'd had that particular fight with Adrienne that night in fact; that was what had prompted her to kick him out of their bed until he'd figured out what was going on in his head.
The lingering aftermath of that night was what had sent him on a quest to disappear for a little while in the shitty unknown bar where he had met Lars. And that brought him right back to his lack of regret.
He stared at Mike for a minute and then shrugged. "Okay, so far I'm a cheap whore and a hypocrite. What else've you got?" At Mike's annoyed look, Billie leaned forward intently. "I'm serious, dude. You've never been one to mince words or shy away from telling me when I'm being an asshole, and I'm tired of us dancing around all this shit. We set this up and ousted our fucking drummer from his own fucking house so we could have this out. Right? So let's just do that, Mike. Let's put it all out there so we can deal with it because I've known you too fucking long for all this bullshit."
A wry smile had appeared on Mike's lips while Billie spoke. "Are you ever gonna stop telling me what to do?"
Startled laughter escaped and his standard retort felt natural. "Oh, fuck off. Yes. The day they put my body in the ground and not a second before, even if you go first."
Mike snorted, amusement and exasperation mingling in the sound. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He frowned slightly, clearly thinking of what to say.
"I don't hate you. I dunno, it seems important to say that. And I don't think you're a, you know." He shrugged. "Kind of a slut maybe, but that's…"
"Old news," Billie supplied and they both nodded. The familiar mixture of defiant pride and shame swirled through him. Maybe someday he'd figure out how he really felt about that word, but he doubted it. It'd been almost twenty years since the first time it had crossed Mike's lips and Billie's internal reaction had not changed. He didn't have room to think about that, though, and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"That's good. It's good to know that you don't, you know, hate me. That's - I'm glad you said that." Speech had become awkward again and it pissed him off that it was so fucking hard to talk to someone he'd known most of his life. That he used to be able to share everything with. Not quite everything, his brain reminded him, focussing on the incredible pleasure he'd found with Lars. Billie squelched those thoughts; he didn't need that distraction right now either.
He resisted the urge to fold his arms around himself as he asked, "What about the band, Mike? What do you-"
"Do I look like I'm in a body bag?" the bassist cut him off. "Green Day 'til we die, Bill. You can't get rid of me that easily."
"Okay," he whispered, dizzy with relief. The other man's expression softened and he dragged a hand through unstyled brown hair.
"Billie, it hasn't been that long. It's gonna take some time before we can be, like, normal with each other. Or figure out what the hell normal is for us now. I'm not leaving MY fucking band and I'm not going to stop being friends with you or your family, but you gotta give me that space, man. I'm still-"
He stopped dead, a frown creasing his forehead. When he resumed speaking, his voice had quieted, its gravity underscoring the passionate words.
"I'm still really pissed at you. Maybe more than I was before. All that fucking work, turning each other inside out, and for what? So you could spread your legs the next time you saw him and destroy it all with one fuck? I don't even feel betrayed so much as just, confused. I don't get it. I don't."
Billie Joe remained silent for a few minutes, chewing on his bottom lip. Mike had made some good points. Who and what were they to each other now? Easy enough to say, 'best friends and bandmates', but what did that really mean? Where were the boundaries when that description had included 'lover' for so long? Could he still touch Mike? The three of them were usually physically affectionate with each other. Would Billie have to rein in what was such an instinctive impulse for him? For a while, yes - giving his friend the space he needed - but what about after that?
Would there ever be a time when they felt comfortable and natural around each other again, on the kind of level that lifelong best friends should be?
Solemn hazel eyes looked at Mike and tentatively he put forth, "If I had come to you, and told you that I felt restless, and…dissatisfied, that I wasn't really happy but I also wasn't sure why, what do you think would have happened?
The bassist's eyes widened over an expulsion of breath. "Shit, I don't know. I guess, I mean I'd've asked you questions, tried to get to the 'why', but ultimately I would've tried stuff to make you happy. Whatever that ended up being." His gaze dropped to Billie's chest and he knew they were both thinking of the way it had looked the last time they'd talked, torn and bleeding.
"Did it scar?"
Billie's mouth twisted wryly. "Oh, yeah. It scarred."
"Can I see it?"
He started to object, but the intense curiosity in the gaze that swung up to meet his changed his mind. Maybe it would help him find some closure or something.
Billie lifted his T-shirt up to his collarbone, exposing the welts above his right nipple. Twin bright pink lines, not fully healed yet, followed near-identical jagged paths in his skin.
Mike's eyebrows raised. "Looks almost like lightning bolts."
"Yeah, kinda." He dropped the fabric and smoothed it down his torso, uncomfortably aware that his friend's eyes were still glued to the mark even covered up.
"And that got you off?"
His mind cast back to the night of the awards show, to teeth ripping into him; to how he'd struggled weakly when it had started to really hurt and Lars had held him down and taken exactly what he'd wanted - everything he'd wanted.
Colour bloomed in his cheeks, Billie's face and body heating up at the memory, and Mike emitted a dry chuckle.
"Never mind, you just answered the question."
A long silence followed the wordless confirmation. Finally Mike spoke again in a low tone tinged with incredulity and the barest hint of disdain. "I couldn't do that."
"I never asked you to." He kept it from a snarl by a slim margin but his tone was still belligerent enough to make blue eyes blaze at him.
"What about your wife, huh? Did you ask her to bite you or hit you or, I don't know, fucking whip you until it cut deep enough to scar? I mean, Jesus, Billie!"
"What the fuck difference does it make, Mike? We can't all be starry-eyed missionaries like you!"
Billie Joe knew even as the venomous words tumbled from his mouth that he'd gone too far. The bassist's face whitened in pain and fury.
"So it was about sex," he accused thickly.
"No. How many times do I have to repeat myself before it sinks in, Dirnt? You and me splitting up had nothing to do with sex. You can tuck your undamaged manhood back into your shorts, okay? Sex was not the point. It was never the point."
"Right. So then your oh-so-delicate mention of dissatisfaction, that was about what? Not getting enough cuddle time?" Mike sneered.
Billie threw up his hands. "Oh for fuck's sake, get over it! Fuck, get over yourself! Just because we turned out to have different style preferences doesn't mean that you suck in bed."
"Then why?"
He rolled his eyes. "We've been through this already."
"Maybe so. Tell me again."
"Because I don't feel that way about you anymore."
Mike sat forward, eyes locked onto Billie. "Because of him."
"Because of me," he refuted.
"But you didn't realise it until he was fucking you on a table in a deserted hotel ballroom."
It sounded so goddamned dirty put that way but it was true. "Right."
Mike stood up, towering over him, expression intent. "Bullshit."
Instantly Billie was on his feet. "What the fuck is your problem? It's not a difficult equation, dude - it's a simple fact. I. Do. Not. Feel. That. Way. About. You."
"Yeah, but that's not why you broke it off," he countered with an angry little smirk.
"Did you start dropping acid again? That is so why."
"Tell me the real reason."
"What?" Why was he still pushing?
"Tell me why."
Billie was done being polite. "Because I don't love you."
Mike shook his head. "Try again. Why?"
"Because you're an asshole."
He continued unfazed. "Why?"
"Because you smell like dirty underwear." Jesus Christ this was worse than when his kids were really little.
"I don't wear underwear, dickhead. Tell me why."
"I already-"
"Why?"
"Fuck, Mike, I told-"
"WHY?"
"Because I fell in love with him!"
Billie screamed it right in Mike's face, angry and flustered and needing the endless questioning to stop.
It did. Silence fell, broken only by harsh breathing on both sides. He dropped back into the chair, pulling his legs up to his chest with a vaguely bewildered expression, still thoroughly pissed off.
"Because I fucking fell in love with him, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? It would've happened anyway, Mike. You have to know that. But why now, yeah. That's fucking why."
Mike just stood there for a while, looking at him with surprise warring with smugness in his face, until Billie snapped, "What?"
"Yeah, I think that is what I wanted to hear, Bill. Truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"What?" The echo held more confusion than fury.
He snorted a laugh and sat down. "I knew there was more to it. You wouldn't have broken your promises if there hadn't been. You wouldn't have felt alive the way you said you did." He shrugged awkwardly, a wry smile lighting his face. "I needed to know there was a better reason for what happened in that stupid hotel than you turning into some kind of pervert."
"I'm not-" Billie bit back the automatic rebuttal and sighed instead. "Why do you do that? You know I hate it. It's worse than when Joey and Stella both used to gang up on us, remember that?"
Mike smirked, nodding. "Yeah. You remember when we used to shake a can of soda and then pop it open in the middle of your driveway?"
"'Course. It used to piss off my mom 'cause the sugar attracted wasps and she was scared of them. What - dude, are you comparing me to a shook-up can of soda? You suck."
They both laughed, finding comfort in the easy familiarity and the shared memories. It felt good to be able to do that.
Predictably, Mike returned to seriousness first. "So you're what, dating now?"
Billie shrugged. "I guess. They have some tour dates left so I haven't seen a whole lot of him yet; couple of phone calls. It depends on what goes down with James really." He hugged his knees closer to his chest, aware that it telegraphed his uneasiness but despite everything, this was Mike and Billie had done enough lying to the both of them.
At the quizzical look, he explained the basics, knowing that neither of them had paid any attention to the other conversation happening in the same ballroom. When he was done Mike let out a low whistle. "Harsh."
"Yeah." Billie spat the word and blue eyes narrowed at him.
"Pisses you off, huh?"
He nodded. "Maybe I'm making allowances for myself here but if I had known for sure like James did, I would never have let it go on like nothing had changed. That's just cruel."
Mike tilted his head. "You can't make that judgment call. You don't know what their relationship was like. And you're not a recovering alcoholic. That had to play into it too."
"I suppose," he conceded, though that didn't change his own feelings about it. "Doesn't matter anyway; what's done is done and now I get to just…wait."
Another space of silence stretched between them, each man lost in his own thoughts.
"Tré said he told you it wasn't like when my wife left."
The sudden reappearance of Mike's voice startled Billie but he nodded. "Yeah, he did. What do you think?" He watched his best friend closely in an attempt to catch any hints of his feelings no matter how small.
His friend gave a tiny shrug, mouth pursing. "I told him to fuck off when he first said it, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."
"And?" Billie prompted when the pause grew lengthy.
"And I think Tré's right," he sighed. His eyes found Billie's and there was an openness there that had been lacking until this moment - a non-verbal acknowledgement of their significance to each other both then and now. Billie hardly dared breathe as Mike continued softly, "You got me through that, Bill. You know it and I know it. Fuck, so do Tré and Adie. I was such a fucking mess and you put me back together."
"I know." The hint of pain still shading the words whenever he talked about her saddened Billie.
"Yeah. But you did it by letting me vent and bitch and cry and whatever else I needed to do, dude. By being my goddamned best friend." He shook his head, resignation and a hint of weary amusement in the half-smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "While I definitely appreciated not having to go cold turkey, you got me through it because you let me lean on you. Not because you let me fuck you."
Billie Joe had no idea how to respond to that. He opened his mouth a few times and finally admitted with a laugh, "Dude, I don't even know what to say. I mean yeah, of course I let you lean on me. Fuck, I've leaned on you often enough. That's…that's what best friends do."
Mike nodded. "Right, that's what best friends do. We've always been that. Then we became fuck buddies, then lovers, and then, I don't know. As pissed off and hurt as I am, and as much as I love you - and make no mistake, Billie Joe, I do still love you - I'm also relieved."
"Relieved," he repeated dumbly.
"Yeah. I'd wondered after the last time, if it was worth it, you know? If we should have just let it go. Accept that our relationship had shifted to a different level and gone with it."
He stared open-mouthed. "What? You never said that. You never even hinted that you considered that."
"You showed up at my door looking fucking abused and willing to do anything to make things right. You think I could turn that down, even if I had some doubts? I still wanted you."
Billie noted the omission of the present tense. Mike had made a point of specifying that he still loved him, but neglected to make the same point about wanting him. He realised with a pang that it had been deliberate. It hadn't occurred to him that the change in their status might - did - mean that his best friend might not find him desirable anymore, when he'd felt that desire from Mike for most of his life. Even in the years before they'd acted on it.
He shifted in the chair, legs tucking up beside him, and gave voice to the last thing that would destroy their potential to ever be lovers again. Sorrow threaded his comprehension. "You don't want me anymore, do you?"
Surprise morphed into honest regret. "No." He scratched behind his ear and elaborated, "After seeing how utterly lost you were from that kind of violence… That's not for me, Billie. I can't do shit like that and I don't even want to try. Watching you open up like that, become so wanton because someone was hurting you - it turned me right off, truthfully. And now, when I think about sex with you, I see him. I see you bruised and bloody and it makes me want to reach for the band-aids, not fuck you. It just doesn't work in my head anymore."
"Oh," he responded quietly; all he could manage to say. Funny how both of them thought of Lars in that same context but in such different ways. He would keep the secret that he'd been listening to a fantasy of the drummer's voice during sex for a long time now; Mike didn't need to know about that. For that matter, neither did Lars.
Billie Joe had known there was no going back. The instant Lars's mouth had touched his in that alleyway, he'd understood that. The scope of it, however, had escaped him until just now. This severing of the sexual part of his relationship with Mike changed the entire way that they interacted with each other - that they thought of each other. It redefined everything in a far more profound manner than their first fumblings in bed together had. That had deepened their existing relationship, added layers to it; this split it in two and obliterated one half.
Uncharacteristically tentative again as he tried to process the magnitude that he'd somehow missed before, he asked, "What happens now? I mean, what do we do? Do you…do you need anything from me?"
"I don't know yet," Mike admitted, head leaning back to rest on the couch. "Besides some time, anyway. But, we did a lot of work on us, Bill. A fucking lot of work. We started talking to each other like adults and that's - we're doing that now. We just have to keep it up." He gave Billie a small smile.
"Right," Billie agreed. He stared at his feet for a long time before lifting his gaze to meet Mike's.
Those blue eyes had always reminded him of the Bay: of home, no matter where they were in the world, no matter what was going on. Mike had been Billie's touchstone for most of his life and looking now at a colour others had called wintry but which to him had always seemed warm, Billie Joe felt an immense sense of loss. Corollary to his other revelations was this knowledge, that this was a home he didn't belong to anymore; where he wasn't welcome. He'd grown up at last and he was gone.
It hurt in a way he hadn't expected. Pieces of him falling, tied to memories, tied to all the moments spent together, all the milestones and the meaning and, yes, to the love. Transformed or perhaps simply disguised as more, though the ache in his gut said that he had loved Mike once and even if what had recently dissolved was only the illusion that that love had continued, it didn't lessen the impact as much as he might have thought.
His oldest friend could still read him so easily and that broad brow furrowed under floppy hair. "Billie?"
"It's okay. I'm okay," he reassured. "It kinda just, you know, hit, and…" Billie let his sentence trail off, not knowing how to complete it. He felt more than a little lost and it sounded clearly in his voice as he tried again. "I wish…I don't know, Mikey, I never meant to… I can't be sorry, exactly, because of him and you know that, I know you do, but I'm not fucking sorry we started up in the first place either and I just can't make sense of those both in my head at the same time."
"You can juggle simultaneous romantic relationships but you can't understand a normal sequential progression?" The bassist's eyebrows shot up and he bit his lip in a poor attempt to hide a smile.
Billie thought about it for a second. He had to laugh when he conceded, "Yeah, pretty much."
Mike shook his head, smile emerging. "Dude, it's not all right. It's not all fine. But it is gonna be okay. You know how to work on relationships and I know you will. And I know you'll fuck up, too, because you always do and so do I and then we can fix it again.
"As long as we're still trying and as long as we're still friends, we'll be okay."
Billie nodded emphatically, throat too tight to speak; he had no more words, anyway. No pretty speeches or eloquent confessions. He had nothing else to say.
The other man seemed to know that, and that he needed some time alone to deal, because Mike rose to his feet, gesturing towards the front door. "I think we've covered everything and fuck, even if we missed something I don't know about you but I've had enough. I'll, uh, I'll keep Tré overnight so you can hang out here if you need to."
I'll keep Tré overnight. It sounded like arranging for a babysitter and they both laughed at the unexpectedly apt reference to their bandmate. Billie nodded again, hazel eyes conveying his gratitude, and the bassist left him with his whirling thoughts.
Briefly, he wanted to call Lars - wanted to hear that lilting voice talk about something completely unrelated to this, bury it all for a while. But he didn't know if the drummer would still be on stage or even what time it was where he was, and he didn't try to figure it out because this deserved better than that. Mike deserved better.
His gaze wandered over the extensive DVD collection and then the CDs, but in the end, Billie Joe did nothing to distract himself from this new reality he inhabited, or from the sharp rise of images flooding through him as if each of those special moments had suddenly realised that its lifetime had come to a natural end and that the book had been closed. There would be no more mental photographs captured in this one.
He moved onto the couch, curling up where it was warm yet from his ex-lover's body heat, and he remembered.
Author: Tas (tasyfa)
Pairing: Billie/Mike; mentions of Billie/Lars, Billie/Adrienne, James/Lars
Word Count: 5056
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: I own only the words; the people own themselves.
Summary: "Let's put it all out there so we can deal with it because I've known you too fucking long for all this bullshit." Fences had been mended three years ago and promises had been made, but everything had changed at that awards afterparty. Now, two old friends need to figure out what it means.
Author's Notes: Takes place about a week after the end of The Folly of Wayward Saints. The second of two 'deleted scenes' from Billie Joe. Sort of a partner piece to Confessions of a Drummer, the second 'deleted scene' from Lars, as written by looking_spiffy (though chronologically, it fits in just before Lars's first deleted scene, Still A Whisper). The title comes from the song Make This Go On Forever by Snow Patrol. [lyrics; download]
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hey, Bill. C'mon in. Mike's in the living room."
Billie's step faltered slightly at that pronouncement and he automatically checked his watch. Tré caught him and laughed.
"No, you're early, but he was even earlier. It's okay." He squeezed Billie's shoulder reassuringly, his hand dropping before they reached the room that held Mike. Held Billie's near lifelong best friend and former lover.
Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick. His stomach churned with the worst fucking case of butterflies he'd ever had as they stepped into Tré's living room. He summoned a smile, feeling it sit wrongly on his mouth even as he tried to project a calmness that he completely didn't feel.
"Hi." Mike spoke quietly, his tone unthreatening, as if he sensed the maelstrom of nerves that had replaced Billie's insides. It made the pressure ease up a little and the smile settled properly into place. Smaller, yes, but genuine now.
At Tré's wave, Billie sat on the chair beside the couch where Mike was and waited for the drummer's parting words.
"Claudia's taken Frankito to her parents' for the weekend, so you have the place to yourselves. Take all the time you need, all right? Try not to break my house, please." He looked back and forth between them, brow furrowing. Billie hated to put him in this position, but they'd all agreed that it would be best to meet on neutral ground this first time, and this was the only way they could think to do that and ensure total privacy.
"We'll be fine, Tré, and so will your property. Thanks, dude," Mike replied and Billie simply nodded agreement.
He sighed, echoing the nod. "Right. You know I'll be at Dirnt's if you need me." Tré hesitated, and then left his own home without another word, trusting to the both of them to work things out.
Silence stretched between Mike and Billie Joe, given weight by the friendship counted in decades and texture by the nature of Billie's betrayal of it.
Finally Billie shifted, feeling like he might suffocate from the lack of words any minute and knowing that his was the first move to make in any case.
"Mike, I'm sorry. I owe you the hugest apology, and I know that that doesn't make anything right, but I'm going to say it anyway. I am sorry."
His head tilted, cheekbone slicing the air as he regarded Billie with steady eyes. "What, exactly, are you sorry for?"
Billie opened his mouth and it hung there, silent, because he had no idea what to say. He was not about to lie and say he was sorry for having sex with Lars; he wasn't. Nor was he precisely apologetic about having fallen out of love with Mike because that had been out of his hands. One corner of Mike's mouth lifted in a cynical smirk at Billie's total loss for words, and smoothly he filled them in.
"You're sorry you got caught? You're sorry that I had to watch while you got fucked like a cheap whore? You're sorry that James walked in and your fuck-buddy didn't get to shoot his wad into your ass? Which is it, Billie, huh?"
Billie Joe swallowed heavily, the conversational feel of the questions hitting harder than straight-up venom would have. But his head stayed high and he answered as best as he could, thankful that his voice remained relatively even although his eyes focused on the dangling earring rather than the gaze boring into him. "All of those. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't figure things out sooner. I'm sorry I put our band and our friendship in jeopardy." Billie sighed, weariness floating out to cover him with a layer of aching. He rubbed at his scalp, fingers tangling in the mop of dark hair, as futile a gesture as always yet one he performed automatically when speech came hard. He whispered, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."
Mike raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I know. I know you didn't do it on purpose, Bill. It's just that I keep seeing," he paused, shoulder twitching in a pre-emptive shrug, "the way you looked when he started to fuck you, and all the blood, and-and then that kiss, you know? You knew I was right there and you still kissed him. You still fucked him and came all over him. Christ, and the passion on your face…"
Billie's expressive mouth tightened. "I can't take it back, Mike." I wouldn't even if I could. He didn't know what kind of asshole that made him, but he honestly didn't know if anything less absolute would have been able to break their hold on each other. Friends since the age of ten, lovers since they were seventeen; it wasn't easy to let it go.
Easier for him than it would be for Mike, or for Lars for that matter. James had had a big head start on his process, of course, and it still burned him up that the other frontman hadn't had the decency to explain that to his drummer upfront - had instead let it linger, let Lars believe everything was actually getting better when in fact James had planned to end it for so long. Billie might have been the one to end his own relationship, and the manner of that might have been about as hurtful as humanly possible, but it had still ended as soon as he'd known the truth about his feelings. He hadn't left Mike fucking dangling in false hope. And James was still keeping Lars waiting, because they were finishing out their concert dates and Billie knew nothing would get said between them until that was over.
He wondered if he would ever stop being angry about all that. Maybe if Lars ever healed.
"Yeah." The nodding head brought him back to the conversation. "I know that, too. I remember a time when you looked like that for me, when we first moved out of your mom's house into that slum and we spent the first night on our own taking each other's ass virginity."
"I remember that." A sweet memory even now. What had happened could only fuck up the future, not erase the past. "I still remember everything. It's still important to me."
The bassist didn't seem to have heard him, eyes unfocussed as he spoke. "I thought at the time that your face had changed because it felt good enough to ignore the pain but I guess that wasn't it, was it? All those years we were sleeping together and I never knew you were into that. Never even guessed it."
"I didn't know either. Not consciously. Not then."
He let out a short laugh. "Not until you spent the night with him. The first time. That's when you figured it out, right?"
Billie nodded. "Yeah, that night kind of changed things."
That blue gaze sharpened, arrowing in on him. "Changed things?"
He squirmed a little internally. That was more than he'd meant to admit. "Well, yeah, I mean it showed me some things about myself. That's what sent me back to you to try to make it right, make it work. That's what let me access whatever fucking part of my head composes again. Some stuff happened with Adie later that turned out to be really good for us. I don't know. Things changed."
"Speaking of, what does your wife think of all this?"
"She doesn't get involved unless it directly affects her, you know that. The first and last time she did, you fucking kissed her, remember?"
"No, I don't remember, Bill. I was too fucking drunk to know what I was doing in case that part has slipped your mind." He sighed. "You're such a fucking hypocrite."
"I know." He'd had that particular fight with Adrienne that night in fact; that was what had prompted her to kick him out of their bed until he'd figured out what was going on in his head.
The lingering aftermath of that night was what had sent him on a quest to disappear for a little while in the shitty unknown bar where he had met Lars. And that brought him right back to his lack of regret.
He stared at Mike for a minute and then shrugged. "Okay, so far I'm a cheap whore and a hypocrite. What else've you got?" At Mike's annoyed look, Billie leaned forward intently. "I'm serious, dude. You've never been one to mince words or shy away from telling me when I'm being an asshole, and I'm tired of us dancing around all this shit. We set this up and ousted our fucking drummer from his own fucking house so we could have this out. Right? So let's just do that, Mike. Let's put it all out there so we can deal with it because I've known you too fucking long for all this bullshit."
A wry smile had appeared on Mike's lips while Billie spoke. "Are you ever gonna stop telling me what to do?"
Startled laughter escaped and his standard retort felt natural. "Oh, fuck off. Yes. The day they put my body in the ground and not a second before, even if you go first."
Mike snorted, amusement and exasperation mingling in the sound. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He frowned slightly, clearly thinking of what to say.
"I don't hate you. I dunno, it seems important to say that. And I don't think you're a, you know." He shrugged. "Kind of a slut maybe, but that's…"
"Old news," Billie supplied and they both nodded. The familiar mixture of defiant pride and shame swirled through him. Maybe someday he'd figure out how he really felt about that word, but he doubted it. It'd been almost twenty years since the first time it had crossed Mike's lips and Billie's internal reaction had not changed. He didn't have room to think about that, though, and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.
"That's good. It's good to know that you don't, you know, hate me. That's - I'm glad you said that." Speech had become awkward again and it pissed him off that it was so fucking hard to talk to someone he'd known most of his life. That he used to be able to share everything with. Not quite everything, his brain reminded him, focussing on the incredible pleasure he'd found with Lars. Billie squelched those thoughts; he didn't need that distraction right now either.
He resisted the urge to fold his arms around himself as he asked, "What about the band, Mike? What do you-"
"Do I look like I'm in a body bag?" the bassist cut him off. "Green Day 'til we die, Bill. You can't get rid of me that easily."
"Okay," he whispered, dizzy with relief. The other man's expression softened and he dragged a hand through unstyled brown hair.
"Billie, it hasn't been that long. It's gonna take some time before we can be, like, normal with each other. Or figure out what the hell normal is for us now. I'm not leaving MY fucking band and I'm not going to stop being friends with you or your family, but you gotta give me that space, man. I'm still-"
He stopped dead, a frown creasing his forehead. When he resumed speaking, his voice had quieted, its gravity underscoring the passionate words.
"I'm still really pissed at you. Maybe more than I was before. All that fucking work, turning each other inside out, and for what? So you could spread your legs the next time you saw him and destroy it all with one fuck? I don't even feel betrayed so much as just, confused. I don't get it. I don't."
Billie Joe remained silent for a few minutes, chewing on his bottom lip. Mike had made some good points. Who and what were they to each other now? Easy enough to say, 'best friends and bandmates', but what did that really mean? Where were the boundaries when that description had included 'lover' for so long? Could he still touch Mike? The three of them were usually physically affectionate with each other. Would Billie have to rein in what was such an instinctive impulse for him? For a while, yes - giving his friend the space he needed - but what about after that?
Would there ever be a time when they felt comfortable and natural around each other again, on the kind of level that lifelong best friends should be?
Solemn hazel eyes looked at Mike and tentatively he put forth, "If I had come to you, and told you that I felt restless, and…dissatisfied, that I wasn't really happy but I also wasn't sure why, what do you think would have happened?
The bassist's eyes widened over an expulsion of breath. "Shit, I don't know. I guess, I mean I'd've asked you questions, tried to get to the 'why', but ultimately I would've tried stuff to make you happy. Whatever that ended up being." His gaze dropped to Billie's chest and he knew they were both thinking of the way it had looked the last time they'd talked, torn and bleeding.
"Did it scar?"
Billie's mouth twisted wryly. "Oh, yeah. It scarred."
"Can I see it?"
He started to object, but the intense curiosity in the gaze that swung up to meet his changed his mind. Maybe it would help him find some closure or something.
Billie lifted his T-shirt up to his collarbone, exposing the welts above his right nipple. Twin bright pink lines, not fully healed yet, followed near-identical jagged paths in his skin.
Mike's eyebrows raised. "Looks almost like lightning bolts."
"Yeah, kinda." He dropped the fabric and smoothed it down his torso, uncomfortably aware that his friend's eyes were still glued to the mark even covered up.
"And that got you off?"
His mind cast back to the night of the awards show, to teeth ripping into him; to how he'd struggled weakly when it had started to really hurt and Lars had held him down and taken exactly what he'd wanted - everything he'd wanted.
Colour bloomed in his cheeks, Billie's face and body heating up at the memory, and Mike emitted a dry chuckle.
"Never mind, you just answered the question."
A long silence followed the wordless confirmation. Finally Mike spoke again in a low tone tinged with incredulity and the barest hint of disdain. "I couldn't do that."
"I never asked you to." He kept it from a snarl by a slim margin but his tone was still belligerent enough to make blue eyes blaze at him.
"What about your wife, huh? Did you ask her to bite you or hit you or, I don't know, fucking whip you until it cut deep enough to scar? I mean, Jesus, Billie!"
"What the fuck difference does it make, Mike? We can't all be starry-eyed missionaries like you!"
Billie Joe knew even as the venomous words tumbled from his mouth that he'd gone too far. The bassist's face whitened in pain and fury.
"So it was about sex," he accused thickly.
"No. How many times do I have to repeat myself before it sinks in, Dirnt? You and me splitting up had nothing to do with sex. You can tuck your undamaged manhood back into your shorts, okay? Sex was not the point. It was never the point."
"Right. So then your oh-so-delicate mention of dissatisfaction, that was about what? Not getting enough cuddle time?" Mike sneered.
Billie threw up his hands. "Oh for fuck's sake, get over it! Fuck, get over yourself! Just because we turned out to have different style preferences doesn't mean that you suck in bed."
"Then why?"
He rolled his eyes. "We've been through this already."
"Maybe so. Tell me again."
"Because I don't feel that way about you anymore."
Mike sat forward, eyes locked onto Billie. "Because of him."
"Because of me," he refuted.
"But you didn't realise it until he was fucking you on a table in a deserted hotel ballroom."
It sounded so goddamned dirty put that way but it was true. "Right."
Mike stood up, towering over him, expression intent. "Bullshit."
Instantly Billie was on his feet. "What the fuck is your problem? It's not a difficult equation, dude - it's a simple fact. I. Do. Not. Feel. That. Way. About. You."
"Yeah, but that's not why you broke it off," he countered with an angry little smirk.
"Did you start dropping acid again? That is so why."
"Tell me the real reason."
"What?" Why was he still pushing?
"Tell me why."
Billie was done being polite. "Because I don't love you."
Mike shook his head. "Try again. Why?"
"Because you're an asshole."
He continued unfazed. "Why?"
"Because you smell like dirty underwear." Jesus Christ this was worse than when his kids were really little.
"I don't wear underwear, dickhead. Tell me why."
"I already-"
"Why?"
"Fuck, Mike, I told-"
"WHY?"
"Because I fell in love with him!"
Billie screamed it right in Mike's face, angry and flustered and needing the endless questioning to stop.
It did. Silence fell, broken only by harsh breathing on both sides. He dropped back into the chair, pulling his legs up to his chest with a vaguely bewildered expression, still thoroughly pissed off.
"Because I fucking fell in love with him, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? It would've happened anyway, Mike. You have to know that. But why now, yeah. That's fucking why."
Mike just stood there for a while, looking at him with surprise warring with smugness in his face, until Billie snapped, "What?"
"Yeah, I think that is what I wanted to hear, Bill. Truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"What?" The echo held more confusion than fury.
He snorted a laugh and sat down. "I knew there was more to it. You wouldn't have broken your promises if there hadn't been. You wouldn't have felt alive the way you said you did." He shrugged awkwardly, a wry smile lighting his face. "I needed to know there was a better reason for what happened in that stupid hotel than you turning into some kind of pervert."
"I'm not-" Billie bit back the automatic rebuttal and sighed instead. "Why do you do that? You know I hate it. It's worse than when Joey and Stella both used to gang up on us, remember that?"
Mike smirked, nodding. "Yeah. You remember when we used to shake a can of soda and then pop it open in the middle of your driveway?"
"'Course. It used to piss off my mom 'cause the sugar attracted wasps and she was scared of them. What - dude, are you comparing me to a shook-up can of soda? You suck."
They both laughed, finding comfort in the easy familiarity and the shared memories. It felt good to be able to do that.
Predictably, Mike returned to seriousness first. "So you're what, dating now?"
Billie shrugged. "I guess. They have some tour dates left so I haven't seen a whole lot of him yet; couple of phone calls. It depends on what goes down with James really." He hugged his knees closer to his chest, aware that it telegraphed his uneasiness but despite everything, this was Mike and Billie had done enough lying to the both of them.
At the quizzical look, he explained the basics, knowing that neither of them had paid any attention to the other conversation happening in the same ballroom. When he was done Mike let out a low whistle. "Harsh."
"Yeah." Billie spat the word and blue eyes narrowed at him.
"Pisses you off, huh?"
He nodded. "Maybe I'm making allowances for myself here but if I had known for sure like James did, I would never have let it go on like nothing had changed. That's just cruel."
Mike tilted his head. "You can't make that judgment call. You don't know what their relationship was like. And you're not a recovering alcoholic. That had to play into it too."
"I suppose," he conceded, though that didn't change his own feelings about it. "Doesn't matter anyway; what's done is done and now I get to just…wait."
Another space of silence stretched between them, each man lost in his own thoughts.
"Tré said he told you it wasn't like when my wife left."
The sudden reappearance of Mike's voice startled Billie but he nodded. "Yeah, he did. What do you think?" He watched his best friend closely in an attempt to catch any hints of his feelings no matter how small.
His friend gave a tiny shrug, mouth pursing. "I told him to fuck off when he first said it, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."
"And?" Billie prompted when the pause grew lengthy.
"And I think Tré's right," he sighed. His eyes found Billie's and there was an openness there that had been lacking until this moment - a non-verbal acknowledgement of their significance to each other both then and now. Billie hardly dared breathe as Mike continued softly, "You got me through that, Bill. You know it and I know it. Fuck, so do Tré and Adie. I was such a fucking mess and you put me back together."
"I know." The hint of pain still shading the words whenever he talked about her saddened Billie.
"Yeah. But you did it by letting me vent and bitch and cry and whatever else I needed to do, dude. By being my goddamned best friend." He shook his head, resignation and a hint of weary amusement in the half-smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. "While I definitely appreciated not having to go cold turkey, you got me through it because you let me lean on you. Not because you let me fuck you."
Billie Joe had no idea how to respond to that. He opened his mouth a few times and finally admitted with a laugh, "Dude, I don't even know what to say. I mean yeah, of course I let you lean on me. Fuck, I've leaned on you often enough. That's…that's what best friends do."
Mike nodded. "Right, that's what best friends do. We've always been that. Then we became fuck buddies, then lovers, and then, I don't know. As pissed off and hurt as I am, and as much as I love you - and make no mistake, Billie Joe, I do still love you - I'm also relieved."
"Relieved," he repeated dumbly.
"Yeah. I'd wondered after the last time, if it was worth it, you know? If we should have just let it go. Accept that our relationship had shifted to a different level and gone with it."
He stared open-mouthed. "What? You never said that. You never even hinted that you considered that."
"You showed up at my door looking fucking abused and willing to do anything to make things right. You think I could turn that down, even if I had some doubts? I still wanted you."
Billie noted the omission of the present tense. Mike had made a point of specifying that he still loved him, but neglected to make the same point about wanting him. He realised with a pang that it had been deliberate. It hadn't occurred to him that the change in their status might - did - mean that his best friend might not find him desirable anymore, when he'd felt that desire from Mike for most of his life. Even in the years before they'd acted on it.
He shifted in the chair, legs tucking up beside him, and gave voice to the last thing that would destroy their potential to ever be lovers again. Sorrow threaded his comprehension. "You don't want me anymore, do you?"
Surprise morphed into honest regret. "No." He scratched behind his ear and elaborated, "After seeing how utterly lost you were from that kind of violence… That's not for me, Billie. I can't do shit like that and I don't even want to try. Watching you open up like that, become so wanton because someone was hurting you - it turned me right off, truthfully. And now, when I think about sex with you, I see him. I see you bruised and bloody and it makes me want to reach for the band-aids, not fuck you. It just doesn't work in my head anymore."
"Oh," he responded quietly; all he could manage to say. Funny how both of them thought of Lars in that same context but in such different ways. He would keep the secret that he'd been listening to a fantasy of the drummer's voice during sex for a long time now; Mike didn't need to know about that. For that matter, neither did Lars.
Billie Joe had known there was no going back. The instant Lars's mouth had touched his in that alleyway, he'd understood that. The scope of it, however, had escaped him until just now. This severing of the sexual part of his relationship with Mike changed the entire way that they interacted with each other - that they thought of each other. It redefined everything in a far more profound manner than their first fumblings in bed together had. That had deepened their existing relationship, added layers to it; this split it in two and obliterated one half.
Uncharacteristically tentative again as he tried to process the magnitude that he'd somehow missed before, he asked, "What happens now? I mean, what do we do? Do you…do you need anything from me?"
"I don't know yet," Mike admitted, head leaning back to rest on the couch. "Besides some time, anyway. But, we did a lot of work on us, Bill. A fucking lot of work. We started talking to each other like adults and that's - we're doing that now. We just have to keep it up." He gave Billie a small smile.
"Right," Billie agreed. He stared at his feet for a long time before lifting his gaze to meet Mike's.
Those blue eyes had always reminded him of the Bay: of home, no matter where they were in the world, no matter what was going on. Mike had been Billie's touchstone for most of his life and looking now at a colour others had called wintry but which to him had always seemed warm, Billie Joe felt an immense sense of loss. Corollary to his other revelations was this knowledge, that this was a home he didn't belong to anymore; where he wasn't welcome. He'd grown up at last and he was gone.
It hurt in a way he hadn't expected. Pieces of him falling, tied to memories, tied to all the moments spent together, all the milestones and the meaning and, yes, to the love. Transformed or perhaps simply disguised as more, though the ache in his gut said that he had loved Mike once and even if what had recently dissolved was only the illusion that that love had continued, it didn't lessen the impact as much as he might have thought.
His oldest friend could still read him so easily and that broad brow furrowed under floppy hair. "Billie?"
"It's okay. I'm okay," he reassured. "It kinda just, you know, hit, and…" Billie let his sentence trail off, not knowing how to complete it. He felt more than a little lost and it sounded clearly in his voice as he tried again. "I wish…I don't know, Mikey, I never meant to… I can't be sorry, exactly, because of him and you know that, I know you do, but I'm not fucking sorry we started up in the first place either and I just can't make sense of those both in my head at the same time."
"You can juggle simultaneous romantic relationships but you can't understand a normal sequential progression?" The bassist's eyebrows shot up and he bit his lip in a poor attempt to hide a smile.
Billie thought about it for a second. He had to laugh when he conceded, "Yeah, pretty much."
Mike shook his head, smile emerging. "Dude, it's not all right. It's not all fine. But it is gonna be okay. You know how to work on relationships and I know you will. And I know you'll fuck up, too, because you always do and so do I and then we can fix it again.
"As long as we're still trying and as long as we're still friends, we'll be okay."
Billie nodded emphatically, throat too tight to speak; he had no more words, anyway. No pretty speeches or eloquent confessions. He had nothing else to say.
The other man seemed to know that, and that he needed some time alone to deal, because Mike rose to his feet, gesturing towards the front door. "I think we've covered everything and fuck, even if we missed something I don't know about you but I've had enough. I'll, uh, I'll keep Tré overnight so you can hang out here if you need to."
I'll keep Tré overnight. It sounded like arranging for a babysitter and they both laughed at the unexpectedly apt reference to their bandmate. Billie nodded again, hazel eyes conveying his gratitude, and the bassist left him with his whirling thoughts.
Briefly, he wanted to call Lars - wanted to hear that lilting voice talk about something completely unrelated to this, bury it all for a while. But he didn't know if the drummer would still be on stage or even what time it was where he was, and he didn't try to figure it out because this deserved better than that. Mike deserved better.
His gaze wandered over the extensive DVD collection and then the CDs, but in the end, Billie Joe did nothing to distract himself from this new reality he inhabited, or from the sharp rise of images flooding through him as if each of those special moments had suddenly realised that its lifetime had come to a natural end and that the book had been closed. There would be no more mental photographs captured in this one.
He moved onto the couch, curling up where it was warm yet from his ex-lover's body heat, and he remembered.