(no subject)
Title: Cover Of The Rolling Stone
Author:defy_darkness
Pairing: Benji/Billy
Rating:None
Summary: Just read it please?!?
Note: Thanks Jow_32 (again...you rock it out hard!)
Hope yall like it. Please leave me some comments. I'll love you long time! Cross Posted...don't get pissy.
The moment I heard we were getting a Rolling Stone cover story I knew this is what we had worked so hard for. I know that it’s always just about the music and the fans but there’s always a part of your brain that wants the credibility of rock writers as well, especially Rolling Stone writers. We were being covered by a journalist named Christian Hoard. The idea was thrown out that we do the interview at our high school in Waldorf. The others really didn’t seem to have any bad feelings about going back. I started to think that it was just me. Joel didn’t even seem to be bothered by it. I thought he would’ve been upset about it just like me.
The phrase “it was hell” is always used far too loosely. Not in this case though. High school was hell. Hell is a place that you’re made to feel less than human. Tortured. Maimed. Humiliated. Worthless. That was the high school experience for me. I had no emotions left. I didn’t even have the energy to hate. I was shattered into pieces and utterly depressed. It began to follow me everywhere; I could no longer leave it at the school doors. Once I finally graduated, I managed to suppress all those feelings. They never faded away completely, I could always feel them slowly burning on the inside.
After months of waiting, the day finally came to go back. I tried to keep telling myself that everything will be ok, and that I have nothing to worry about, but its impossible to lie to yourself. I stayed in bed thinking about my life up until this day. The first 17 years were really rough; then just 6 short years after starting the band, here we are with a spread in Rolling Stone. I felt so grateful to everyone who helped us along the way: mom, for sacrificing so much for us, dad, for leaving us and making us to grow up to be better men than he could ever be, family, friends, fans, haters; they all pushed us to be better. There’s a knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in.” Joel opens the door and pops his head in before entering to stand at the foot of my bed.
“Hey. Just came to see if you were up yet. We have to go in an hour; it’s a long drive back to Waldorf.”
“Yeah. I was just gonna hop in the shower. I’ll be ready in 20.” I say as I start to get out of bed.
“Ok. I’ll get some coffee going.” He says as he turns to leave. He spins around in mid step and says:
“Can you believe this? Did you ever think we’d make the cover of Rolling Stone?”
“It’s unreal.” Is all I say as I close my eyes and try to picture the cover with us on it.
“Yup. We made it didn’t we?” He closed the door and left me with a feeling of overwhelming accomplishment.
It was shortly after 3pm when we hit the outskirts of Waldorf. I can feel much of the repressed pain fighting to come out. I shoved it back down and controlled it the best I could. Paul’s driving us to the school and I’m sitting in the back with Billy. I look over at him. He seems calm as usual. Joel’s rambling on about something he seen on the discovery channel about the Serengeti. He gets chatty when he’s nervous; just the opposite of me.
The familiarity of my childhood all floods back in as we turn on to the old bus route. I unconsciously start to clench and release my fists, not noticing until Billy places his hand on mine and asks if I’m ok. I tell him yes, but he knows that I’m lying. He’s always been able to tell when I wasn’t ok. I was really freaking out inside and Billy squeezed my hand comfortingly to let me know that it was going to be ok.
There’s the bench I sat on when I got jumped and ripped apart. There’s the trashcan that I had to fish my belongings out of when they called me trash and threw everything away. There’s the parking lot that I had to walk through as I got pelted with soda cans and apple cores. There’s the flagpole that I got shoved into face first, splitting my lip wide open. There it is. There’s my hell.
Joel and Paul jump out of the car and go to greet Christian, who’s waiting by the front entrance. I fight to hold in the tears I can feel pooling in the corners of my eyes. One drops out, in a split second of weakness, and leaves a small round damp spot on my thigh. Billy reaches over to dry the trail the tear left on my face and tells me that I can do this.
“I don’t know if I can Billy.” I say as I turn back to look at the school.
“I know its hard Benji, but you’re stronger than this. Don’t let your fear win. Fight it. You’re better than this place.” He cups my face gently with his hands and nods.
I close my eyes and feel the strength of Billy pulse through me. I nod back. We get out and walk to the others. This is it. The doors of hell are opened once again. I step over the threshold and it hits me all at once. It smells the same, it looks the same; it is the same. I clutch onto the back of Billy’s shirt to keep my composure and try to appear calm. He puts his arm around me and helps me get through the initial terror of it all.
We make our way down the halls. Everywhere I look, I can still see them all. They’re still calling me names.
“FAGGOT!”
“PUSSY!”
“FREAK!”
“WEIRDO!”
“LOSER!”
I stop to look at my old locker. It still has my initials carved in the top corner. I turned back to the interview and Joel was going on about Silverchair again with Billy nodding along from the locker he was leaned against.
Christian wanted to do one on ones with us all and naturally Joel was asked first. Billy and I wandered off down the hall together.
“How you doing?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“Not good. It hurts to be in here.” I fight the tears building up in my eyes again.
He guides me into the bathroom, and wipes a damp paper towel on my forehead and neck.
“I know it hurts Benji. Don’t be scared to let it go. It’s not good to hold onto your anger.” He tells me as he wipes me down to try and calm me.
The tears are winning and I can’t hold them any longer. One by one, they seep out and find their way to Billy’s shoulder. He sits me on the dirty floor and holds me tight. He didn’t say a word he just let me cry. I cried about everything that I was scared to back then; the names, the looks, the hate, everything. I finally let it all go.
The tears finally slowed and I lifted my head up off Billy. I looked up at him and he was crying too. His eyeliner stained his creamy skin. I attempted to wipe it away, but I made it worse. I grabbed the paper towel and cleaned him up. I gently wiped all traces of sadness away. I knew at that moment that he did actually care. He shared my pain. His big blue eyes are slightly bloodshot from the sting of the tears.
I held his face tenderly in my hands and kissed his forehead gently. I pulled away still holding his face and stared at the beauty of his eyes. I brought my lips to his and pressed softly.
He didn’t pull away like I expected him too; instead he let his bottom lip fall and engulf mine. He slid his tongue over my lips slowly before penetrating my lips to taste me. To my surprise, I let out a quiet moan. I could taste the metal of a piercing. He grabbed my face and let out a small moan. We broke and inhaled at the same time; sharing a breath.
With another soft kiss, the moment was over. Before letting me go he whispered something in my ear that I will never forget.
“All the pain in the memories that this place holds can never outweigh the happiness you just created by sharing one breath with me.”
We walked out of the bathroom not analyzing what just happened. Nothing felt different between us, but I certainly felt stronger. I was able to walk the halls without feeling an ounce of pain.
Billy opened my eyes on that dirty floor. The past doesn’t need to hold us back; we don’t have to carry the pain around, it’s ok to let go.
Billy saved me; but he also gave me something new to be terrified of. What if a breath is never as good as the one that we shared? I can’t hold my breath and wait forever; but for him…I just might.