Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
Title: Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (Part Eight)
Author: Ana
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: R
Notes: This has nothing to do with Coming Clean or even my story, but I gotta mention it. Did you know that the hashtag #HappyBirthdayBillieJoeArmstrong was the top worldwide trend on Twitter for most of February 17th? It was freaking amazing. Happy (belated) Birthday to the best musician in the business. That being said, enjoy!
Previous Parts: http://missmacy3334.livejournal.com/1975.html#
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Standing in the middle of an empty hallway, I let out a deep sigh. The word "hurtful" didn't even begin to describe what could be seen and read on Billie Joe's locker. It wasn't only the words that could make you shiver; just looking at the picture for a moment would make you realize how every element combined with the next one to make the scene even more hideous.
I tried to think things through for a while and yet, I couldn't figure out exactly how Chris and his entourage of idiots had done it, but my first guess was that they had sneak out of class and stole the spray paint from the art classroom to arrange what they so cynically called 'a prank'. What made it even more disturbing were the several dozens of scattered razor blades lying on the floor which must have fallen from inside the locker when Billie Joe opened it. They didn't make any sense until you read what was written on the cold, metallic surface in bright color red.
"This time get it right, loser."
I suddenly started to feel nauseous.
***
Located right behind the tall, concrete buildings of John Swett High was a wide and solitary football field in which someone hardly ever practiced any sport. A rally or two every year was all the action the field would see. Normally, couples would take advantage of the emptiness of this place to have a little time together, but due to the extremely cold weather in this time of the month, not a single soul could be spotted anywhere around.
That is where I finally found Billie Joe after having been looking for him for hours. I was completely sure that he hadn't gone home, and I knew that he was too proud to come to me; therefore, I found myself walking and searching through every damn corner of that fucking school without any kind of success.
It was then that I recalled Professor Green's words. If everybody in John Swett knew what had happened; the insides of John Swett, where everybody was, would be the last place Billie would want to be in. It turned out I was right.
Billie was sitting on the very corner of the top step in the tiers with his knees up to his chin and his hands covering his face. He was as used to dealing with Matthews' shit as just about everybody in school, but this time around, it had got too personal, too hateful, and I couldn't help but feeling directly responsible for what had happened since everything started the day Chris realized I was paying "special" attention to Billie.
"How did you find me?" He asked turning his back to me as I sat beside him, but I had already noticed the uncontrollable trembling of his body.
"My crystal ball told me you might be here."
"Did it also tell you what happened?"
"It's a only crystal ball, Billie; you cannot expect too much from it."
"Yeah, well... Apparently you can't expect a lot from people at this school either."
"Not even from me?"
Billie didn't answer at first. He didn't make a move nor a sound for a little while, and I started to wonder whether I should take his silence as a no. Then he turned to face me, and as soon as my eyes met his, I could notice the swelling tears that were threatening to run down his beautiful face in any minute. Billie breathed in and out repeatedly, trying hard to control himself in order to speak. "We both know you're the only one who actually gives a fuck about me" he told me.
No, I couldn't just shrug it off. Billie's shaky voice was capable of warming up my insides and touch the depths of my soul in a way nothing else could. I instinctively got closer and took his face between my hands. "It's way more than that, Billie." I then surrounded him with my arms as he placed his head on my chest and began to sob quietly.
My heart began to ache as I desperately tried to find a way to make him feel better; to make it all go away. I held him for what seemed like an eternity, just stroking his hair or pressing loving kisses to his forehead until the tears cascading down his colored cheeks started to subside.
The entire time I remained silent. I knew Billie Joe wasn't the kind of person that responds to the typical "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?" No, it wasn't okay and there is no fucking way he could describe what was going through his mind in that precise moment, so I just held him. The moment he wanted to talk, I would be there to listen without asking questions he wasn't ready to answer.
Eventually, the sobbing stopped, and the crying stopped. Billie fell silent too, but I could still feel his chest moving against mine as he tried to control his breath. All of a sudden, I felt his fingers creeping down my arm to hold my hand. That's when I noticed the tiny red blotches on his sleeve that could only mean one thing. I swallowed hard.
"Baby, what did you do?" I pulled up the fabric of his sweatshirt ever so delicately so as to not to hurt him until I came across three swollen cuts located just above his wrist. A choked sob erupted from Billie's throat, but he didn't try to yank his arm away; he didn't even protest.
"Billie, I need to take you to the school nurse."
"No, please, don't! She is going to call my father, and my father is going to call my doctor, and my doctor is going to give me those horrible pills that make me all numb and sleepy, and I don't want to-..."
"Billie! Stop, baby! We're not going to do anything you don't want to. But you do need a bandage."
"No, I don't. They'll heal, they always do."
"Billie-..."
"Please, Mr. Pritchard, I'm begging you!"
He took my hand and placed it on his face; it was still wet, but as soon as I caressed his cheek, I felt the delicate velvet-like softness beneath my fingers that almost made me melt, and I told him I would take care of everything, that we were going home.
We both knew that I didn't mean his home.
***
Billie stood beside me on the bathroom, watching in silence as I handled the faucets in order to steady the temperature of the water in the hot tub. Once I made sure it was pleasantly mild, I turned toward my frightened little student and gently stripped him from his shirt.
Billie lifted his arms willingly to allow the garment to pass over his head without so much as a question or even a word. As my eyes landed on his naked skin, my heart skipped a beat. There are no words to describe him; he was damn beautiful, just as I had imagined in my wildest dreams.
I then kneeled down and undid his pants. Billie's reaction to my every move had been mostly passive, but in that moment, his hands entangled in my hair and made me look up at the same time his emerald eyes bored holes deep into my soul.
I sighed before pressing my lips lovingly against the smooth skin of his chest, then his neck. Billie bit his lip and let out a small moan which brought me back to my senses at once; I immediately stood up and took a step backwards.
"Get in there, baby, and try to relax. I'll be back in no time," I said, handing him a clean towel out of the nearest shelf.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I shut my eyes and touched my lips in an attempt to preserve the previous moment in my mind; I desperately needed to have him into my arms, and I didn't think I would be able to hold back much longer until I forgot how vulnerable he was and how much he required to be treated as gently as possible.
I took in a deep breath to help me calm down, then I went downstairs and into the laundry room to put Billie's clothes in the washer machine. I was pretty sure that somewhere along my life I had bought a first aid kit, so I decided to go find it to check I had everything I needed.
Moments later, I was back into the bathroom, sitting next to the hot tub with Billie's arm lying on my lap. He would flinch every now and then as I pressed the humid gauze to his reddened skin to remove the dried blood. After applying the antibiotic and covering the wounds, I gathered all the contents of the first aid kit and closed it quietly.
Billie flashed me a shy smile through parted lips and half-lidded eyes. "Thank you," he said. I smiled back and turned towards the door.
***
After handing him back his clothes, now fresh and clean, I decided to give Billie some space so he could rest; it had been a long, difficult day, after all. When I entered the bedroom again, he was curled on his left side on the bed, holding a book in front of him. He looked quite peaceful.
I lied down next to him, smiling to myself as he wriggled and wriggled until he finally found a comfortable position pressed tightly against my body; my arms appeared to have gained a mind on their own as they wrapped around Billie's waist.
"What are you reading, baby?" I asked casually.
"Nothing really. I was just taking a look at this."
"Oscar Wilde?"
"Yeah, I've always wanted to read it but I'm just not sure." Billie was holding The Portrait of Dorian Grey. "What's it about?"
"The whole story centers on a man of extraordinary beauty. Wilde describes him as the most perfect creature that ever stepped on Earth. This man, Dorian Grey of course, wishes nothing more than to find a way to preserve said beauty; therefore he decides to ask Basil Hallward, an extraordinary artist, to paint his portrait. He agrees but soon becomes obsessed with every little detail of Dorian's complexion which ultimately leads him to fall deeply in love with him."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Do they get to be together?"
I hesitated for a moment. "Hmmm, yes."
"Maybe I should paint your portrait some time, Mr. Pritchard."
"Billie?" He groaned in response. "If I ask you to do something, would you do it for me?"
"I would do anything for you."
"Whenever you feel the urge to harm yourself again, please come to me."
"It's not going to work. You're a thousand times more addictive than any razor I've had in my hands."
Sometimes I can still hear those words echoing in the depths of my mind. And the events that happened after are the one true memory I cherish and loved the most.
I pressed a chaste kiss to his damp ebony curls and I noticed a very familiar coconut scent going up my nostrils; he had used my shampoo. It turned me on incredibly. My grip around his waist tightened unconsciously as Billie sighed deeply and closed the book. My lips traveled down until they reach his ear, where I was free to let my tongue play, sucking, licking and biting on that inviting earlobe that was just begging for attention.
I would like to say I was aware of what was happening, but I would be lying; I couldn't be more lost in him, lost in his every reaction, lost in every slight movement that he made, and every single breath he took only made me want him more.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Billie had his eyes closed and his teeth were about to draw blood from his lower lip. I took the book from his hands and threw it away; before the loud thump could be heard, I flipped him around and pressed our lips together. The minute the contact was made, every notion I had of time and space disappeared. I focused only on him, on his arms locked behind my neck, on his soft lips sliding gently against my own, but especially, on his tongue probing all over my mouth, exploring each and every single corner as if there was no tomorrow.
We kissed passionately until our lips felt too swollen and tired to continue. I didn't have the heart to tell Billie Joe the truth. I just couldn't tell him that Dorian Grey was actually an evil monster who let himself be carried away by his selfishness and ridiculous vanity until the point of no return, and the guilt started to sink its ugly fangs into my heart.
Then a light entered into my brain. Dorian Grey had ended Basil Hallward's life without having any remorse for it; he didn't love him, he never did, and that's when I realized our story was already different.
***END OF PART 8***
Author: Ana
Pairing: Billie/Mike
Rating: R
Notes: This has nothing to do with Coming Clean or even my story, but I gotta mention it. Did you know that the hashtag #HappyBirthdayBillieJoeArmstrong was the top worldwide trend on Twitter for most of February 17th? It was freaking amazing. Happy (belated) Birthday to the best musician in the business. That being said, enjoy!
Previous Parts: http://missmacy3334.livejournal.com/1975.html#
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Standing in the middle of an empty hallway, I let out a deep sigh. The word "hurtful" didn't even begin to describe what could be seen and read on Billie Joe's locker. It wasn't only the words that could make you shiver; just looking at the picture for a moment would make you realize how every element combined with the next one to make the scene even more hideous.
I tried to think things through for a while and yet, I couldn't figure out exactly how Chris and his entourage of idiots had done it, but my first guess was that they had sneak out of class and stole the spray paint from the art classroom to arrange what they so cynically called 'a prank'. What made it even more disturbing were the several dozens of scattered razor blades lying on the floor which must have fallen from inside the locker when Billie Joe opened it. They didn't make any sense until you read what was written on the cold, metallic surface in bright color red.
"This time get it right, loser."
I suddenly started to feel nauseous.
***
Located right behind the tall, concrete buildings of John Swett High was a wide and solitary football field in which someone hardly ever practiced any sport. A rally or two every year was all the action the field would see. Normally, couples would take advantage of the emptiness of this place to have a little time together, but due to the extremely cold weather in this time of the month, not a single soul could be spotted anywhere around.
That is where I finally found Billie Joe after having been looking for him for hours. I was completely sure that he hadn't gone home, and I knew that he was too proud to come to me; therefore, I found myself walking and searching through every damn corner of that fucking school without any kind of success.
It was then that I recalled Professor Green's words. If everybody in John Swett knew what had happened; the insides of John Swett, where everybody was, would be the last place Billie would want to be in. It turned out I was right.
Billie was sitting on the very corner of the top step in the tiers with his knees up to his chin and his hands covering his face. He was as used to dealing with Matthews' shit as just about everybody in school, but this time around, it had got too personal, too hateful, and I couldn't help but feeling directly responsible for what had happened since everything started the day Chris realized I was paying "special" attention to Billie.
"How did you find me?" He asked turning his back to me as I sat beside him, but I had already noticed the uncontrollable trembling of his body.
"My crystal ball told me you might be here."
"Did it also tell you what happened?"
"It's a only crystal ball, Billie; you cannot expect too much from it."
"Yeah, well... Apparently you can't expect a lot from people at this school either."
"Not even from me?"
Billie didn't answer at first. He didn't make a move nor a sound for a little while, and I started to wonder whether I should take his silence as a no. Then he turned to face me, and as soon as my eyes met his, I could notice the swelling tears that were threatening to run down his beautiful face in any minute. Billie breathed in and out repeatedly, trying hard to control himself in order to speak. "We both know you're the only one who actually gives a fuck about me" he told me.
No, I couldn't just shrug it off. Billie's shaky voice was capable of warming up my insides and touch the depths of my soul in a way nothing else could. I instinctively got closer and took his face between my hands. "It's way more than that, Billie." I then surrounded him with my arms as he placed his head on my chest and began to sob quietly.
My heart began to ache as I desperately tried to find a way to make him feel better; to make it all go away. I held him for what seemed like an eternity, just stroking his hair or pressing loving kisses to his forehead until the tears cascading down his colored cheeks started to subside.
The entire time I remained silent. I knew Billie Joe wasn't the kind of person that responds to the typical "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?" No, it wasn't okay and there is no fucking way he could describe what was going through his mind in that precise moment, so I just held him. The moment he wanted to talk, I would be there to listen without asking questions he wasn't ready to answer.
Eventually, the sobbing stopped, and the crying stopped. Billie fell silent too, but I could still feel his chest moving against mine as he tried to control his breath. All of a sudden, I felt his fingers creeping down my arm to hold my hand. That's when I noticed the tiny red blotches on his sleeve that could only mean one thing. I swallowed hard.
"Baby, what did you do?" I pulled up the fabric of his sweatshirt ever so delicately so as to not to hurt him until I came across three swollen cuts located just above his wrist. A choked sob erupted from Billie's throat, but he didn't try to yank his arm away; he didn't even protest.
"Billie, I need to take you to the school nurse."
"No, please, don't! She is going to call my father, and my father is going to call my doctor, and my doctor is going to give me those horrible pills that make me all numb and sleepy, and I don't want to-..."
"Billie! Stop, baby! We're not going to do anything you don't want to. But you do need a bandage."
"No, I don't. They'll heal, they always do."
"Billie-..."
"Please, Mr. Pritchard, I'm begging you!"
He took my hand and placed it on his face; it was still wet, but as soon as I caressed his cheek, I felt the delicate velvet-like softness beneath my fingers that almost made me melt, and I told him I would take care of everything, that we were going home.
We both knew that I didn't mean his home.
***
Billie stood beside me on the bathroom, watching in silence as I handled the faucets in order to steady the temperature of the water in the hot tub. Once I made sure it was pleasantly mild, I turned toward my frightened little student and gently stripped him from his shirt.
Billie lifted his arms willingly to allow the garment to pass over his head without so much as a question or even a word. As my eyes landed on his naked skin, my heart skipped a beat. There are no words to describe him; he was damn beautiful, just as I had imagined in my wildest dreams.
I then kneeled down and undid his pants. Billie's reaction to my every move had been mostly passive, but in that moment, his hands entangled in my hair and made me look up at the same time his emerald eyes bored holes deep into my soul.
I sighed before pressing my lips lovingly against the smooth skin of his chest, then his neck. Billie bit his lip and let out a small moan which brought me back to my senses at once; I immediately stood up and took a step backwards.
"Get in there, baby, and try to relax. I'll be back in no time," I said, handing him a clean towel out of the nearest shelf.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I shut my eyes and touched my lips in an attempt to preserve the previous moment in my mind; I desperately needed to have him into my arms, and I didn't think I would be able to hold back much longer until I forgot how vulnerable he was and how much he required to be treated as gently as possible.
I took in a deep breath to help me calm down, then I went downstairs and into the laundry room to put Billie's clothes in the washer machine. I was pretty sure that somewhere along my life I had bought a first aid kit, so I decided to go find it to check I had everything I needed.
Moments later, I was back into the bathroom, sitting next to the hot tub with Billie's arm lying on my lap. He would flinch every now and then as I pressed the humid gauze to his reddened skin to remove the dried blood. After applying the antibiotic and covering the wounds, I gathered all the contents of the first aid kit and closed it quietly.
Billie flashed me a shy smile through parted lips and half-lidded eyes. "Thank you," he said. I smiled back and turned towards the door.
***
After handing him back his clothes, now fresh and clean, I decided to give Billie some space so he could rest; it had been a long, difficult day, after all. When I entered the bedroom again, he was curled on his left side on the bed, holding a book in front of him. He looked quite peaceful.
I lied down next to him, smiling to myself as he wriggled and wriggled until he finally found a comfortable position pressed tightly against my body; my arms appeared to have gained a mind on their own as they wrapped around Billie's waist.
"What are you reading, baby?" I asked casually.
"Nothing really. I was just taking a look at this."
"Oscar Wilde?"
"Yeah, I've always wanted to read it but I'm just not sure." Billie was holding The Portrait of Dorian Grey. "What's it about?"
"The whole story centers on a man of extraordinary beauty. Wilde describes him as the most perfect creature that ever stepped on Earth. This man, Dorian Grey of course, wishes nothing more than to find a way to preserve said beauty; therefore he decides to ask Basil Hallward, an extraordinary artist, to paint his portrait. He agrees but soon becomes obsessed with every little detail of Dorian's complexion which ultimately leads him to fall deeply in love with him."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Do they get to be together?"
I hesitated for a moment. "Hmmm, yes."
"Maybe I should paint your portrait some time, Mr. Pritchard."
"Billie?" He groaned in response. "If I ask you to do something, would you do it for me?"
"I would do anything for you."
"Whenever you feel the urge to harm yourself again, please come to me."
"It's not going to work. You're a thousand times more addictive than any razor I've had in my hands."
Sometimes I can still hear those words echoing in the depths of my mind. And the events that happened after are the one true memory I cherish and loved the most.
I pressed a chaste kiss to his damp ebony curls and I noticed a very familiar coconut scent going up my nostrils; he had used my shampoo. It turned me on incredibly. My grip around his waist tightened unconsciously as Billie sighed deeply and closed the book. My lips traveled down until they reach his ear, where I was free to let my tongue play, sucking, licking and biting on that inviting earlobe that was just begging for attention.
I would like to say I was aware of what was happening, but I would be lying; I couldn't be more lost in him, lost in his every reaction, lost in every slight movement that he made, and every single breath he took only made me want him more.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Billie had his eyes closed and his teeth were about to draw blood from his lower lip. I took the book from his hands and threw it away; before the loud thump could be heard, I flipped him around and pressed our lips together. The minute the contact was made, every notion I had of time and space disappeared. I focused only on him, on his arms locked behind my neck, on his soft lips sliding gently against my own, but especially, on his tongue probing all over my mouth, exploring each and every single corner as if there was no tomorrow.
We kissed passionately until our lips felt too swollen and tired to continue. I didn't have the heart to tell Billie Joe the truth. I just couldn't tell him that Dorian Grey was actually an evil monster who let himself be carried away by his selfishness and ridiculous vanity until the point of no return, and the guilt started to sink its ugly fangs into my heart.
Then a light entered into my brain. Dorian Grey had ended Basil Hallward's life without having any remorse for it; he didn't love him, he never did, and that's when I realized our story was already different.
***END OF PART 8***