nostalgia and cigarettes
title: Nostalgia and Cigarettes[Part 9/?]
author: Sharmel
pairing: Tre/Billie
rating: R
disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in my story. I only own the plot and the words.
summary: "I’ve gotten better at pretending, haven’t I?"
previous parts: Here
dedication: This is for 21enemies I'm so fucking proud of you, so this next chapter is dedicated to you.
1996
Billie.
A smile was always plastered on his face whenever my eyes managed to land on his beautiful face. But I knew him all too well. Or at least, I always liked to think I did. I knew it was me who broke it off. It was me who lied to Mike. Who was I kidding? I was head over heels for him. I was an idiot, though. I should’ve told Mike the truth, but my egotistical pride got the best of me. I didn’t know what came over me when I told Mike those words.
“I’m working on it.”
What a lie. Working on being a better lover, maybe. Perhaps even working on showing my love for him more openly. But the way I said it, I sounded so cold. I understood why Tre felt that way. I was even disgusted with myself. Something appalled me to lie. What could have possibly made me do that? I honestly have no fucking clue. Probably that I was still fucking young and wasn’t ready to strap down into a relationship with him. But that wasn’t the reason. I knew it. I kept telling myself that, though. Every fucking day since I broke it off.
The real reason? I was scared. As hard as it may be for me to admit it, but that was the truth. I was fucking scared. The idea of falling in love with one of my best friends, the idea of fucking him senselessly, the idea of falling in love with a man…I couldn’t swallow it. Not that I was a homophobe, but because I’ve always wanted children. That was the one thing he could never provide me with. And I guess that thought hindered me from loving him to fullest.
Regardless, he still clung to my heart. He wasn’t something I could easily let go. But the more I thought about him, the more I wanted him. The more I needed him. As pathetic as it sounds, I would never be able to stop loving him. And I hated myself for that.
And some time later, Tre came up to me with the biggest fucking smile on his face. Idiot as I was, I thought that he broke it off with Lisea and decided to chose me instead. I was so fucking blind and hopeless. I was so fucking ashamed.
We were at Mike’s house with a bunch of friends, and it was a couple days before we left for the second leg of the tour. And honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to this tour at all. Mostly because he was going to be there 90% of the time. “Billie, I have something to tell you.”
My eyes glanced up to him. His face was glowing, he looked so fucking happy. Deep inside, my heart did back flips. I always loved it when he was down right happy like that. But I kept my cool. I maintained my composure. He was the one who reinforced my decision. He turned me down, too.
“What is it?”
A content sigh escaped his kissable lips as he sat down beside me. I noted how close we were yet so far away. “Billie, I’m getting married.”
If I had been drinking or eating at that very moment, I would’ve choked. I would’ve preferred choking than hearing those words spewing out of his mouth. I totally hadn’t expected that. Not one bit. But, I continued to play it cool. How? Really, I don’t have a clue. That was one of my talents, I suppose. Lying.
“Congrats, man! I’m happy for you.” I tried so hard to sound supportive, and to sound like I was actually sincere. But we both knew I was lying. We both knew I was full of bull shit. But we just grinned like idiots, and pretended otherwise. I felt so fake. I hated it. I hated every bit of it.
He briefly patted my shoulder and sauntered off to share the news with everyone in the room. I wanted to grabbed him and slap some sense into him. A part of me wanted to grow some balls for once and tell him to pick me instead of her. But that was childish. I already did that before, and he declined. Our paths have separated. He accepted that fact. I still hadn’t.
Finally, the number of people in the house started decreasing. It was one of those rare occasions where Mike was drunk out of his mind. Being a good friend I was, I tucked him soundly in bed. As I came down the steps, I noticed it was only Tre left. He had a beer in hand, and his beautiful blue eyes were cast downwards. He hadn’t noticed me gawking at him as I stood on the bottom steps of the stairs.
The happiness that was once present on his face was wiped away, and its place was grief and tiredness. He took a swig of his beer and that was when he felt my presence in the room. His eyes wearily glanced my way and a sigh escaped his mouth.
“I thought you went home,” he mumbled as he focused his attention back to his beverage. I said nothing and walked toward him.
A couple rows of empty beer bottles were laid out on the table in front of him, and I assumed more than half of those were his - if not all. As I stood a mere foot away from him, he faced me once more. I was about to say something, but instead, I sighed and began to turn away. But he reached out toward me and pulled me back.
“Why do you always leave me?” His question struck me like a punch in the gut. I knew what he really meant by that question, but coward as I was, I played it dumb once again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tre.” My voice stayed even, and I was surprised it didn’t falter. He closed his eyes as he stumbled toward me. He toppled onto me, and I got a whiff of his breath. His breath reeked alcohol.
Ever since I broke it off with him, he played it smart and hadn’t gotten drunk out of his mind ever since. So when I smelled his breath, I was shocked. But at the same time, I was almost glad. Whenever Tre got drunk, he always spoke his mind, he always spoke the truth.
I slowly lead him toward the couch and sat him down. I sat down beside him and took the beer that he still clutched in his hand away. I hadn’t drunk that much that night, so I took the liberty of downing the rest of the contents. I felt too sober at that particular moment.
“Why’d you drink so much, Tre?”
His eyes remained closed, and he took a few moments before answering. “I don’t know. Probably ‘cause I’m getting married.”
My eyebrows shot up. And before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “But you were so happy when you told me.”
His blue orbs finally opened and stared at me. He shrugged and inched closer to me. For the first time, I was feeling nervous. “I’ve gotten better at pretending, haven’t I?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Guess that makes the two of us.”
He shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle. “I always know when you’re lying. The only time I can’t tell is when it comes to our love. Or, the love we once had.”
I was speechless. But then again, words always seemed to escape my mind when it comes to him. So I said nothing and just stared back at him, and continued to keep my composure - or at least, whatever composure I had left.
His eyes narrowed in frustration as he weakly threw a punch on my chest. Even though it was a weak punch, I felt so damaged, so hurt, so injured.
But before I could answer, he yelled out, “Why can’t I stop loving you, goddamnit? I rejected you so that you could be with your wife. So that you could raise that kid with her. I thought I could stop loving you! But why the hell can’t I? Each time I always fucking see your goddamn pretty face, I always get knots tied up in my stomach. Every time you enter a room, my heart pounds so fucking hard that I’m afraid that someone might hear. Ever since the day I rejected you, my love wouldn’t stop growing. Why is that, Billie? Why goddamnit?” His breathing became shallow when he stopped yelling. I was surprised that Mike didn’t wake.
I was speechless; I didn’t know what to say. But I felt as if the burden on my heart was lifted slightly. He still loved me. Although, I knew it was only temporarily. He would forget all about his confession the next day. But I pushed that thought out of my mind. I wanted to satisfy my heart one last time.
So I pushed him gently down on the couch, and I hovered over him. Our eyes were locked, and our breathing was in sync. Moments later, our lips roughly collided with each other. It was full of anger, regret, remorse, passion, and longing. God, I missed his lips.
But as I tasted the alcohol in his breath, my thoughts were snapped back to reality. Guilt struck me like a lightning bolt, and I parted from our heated kiss. His eyes were full of question and lust and were drunk with litres of cheap alcohol.
I sighed deeply as I stood up. I hoisted him up and led him to the front door. As I balanced him with one arm, I closed the door shut. We headed toward my car, and I safely buckled him in. When guilt washed over my conscience, all the alcohol I consumed that night disappeared. My mind was sober once again, and I hated it.
The ride back to Tre’s house was quiet - too quiet for my liking. And when I pulled up in front of his house, I finally got the nerve to glance at him. Tears drowned his face. My heart felt unbearably heavy, but I kept myself together for his sake and mine. I got out of the vehicle and went to his side to help him walk to his house. His arm draped over my shoulder as we slowly shuffled to his home. Neither of us uttered a word. Only tears seemed to do the talking.
We reached his door, and he fumbled around his pockets for the keys. Finally, he found them and began to insert whatever key into the hole. After the fourth attempt, he groaned frustratingly. A sigh escaped my lips as I took the keys from him. His arm fell over my shoulders once more. He felt heavier than before.
I finally found the right key and turned the knob to open the door. I walked him inside and helped kick off his footwear. Lisea liked to keep the house clean, and insisted not to wear shoes in the house. She would make a great wife.
He reached toward me, but I stepped back. I shook my head and turned toward the door. Before I could take another step, his arms latched around me. “Don’t go.”
After that, I found myself lying in his guest bedroom’s bed with him. But the moment we fell on the bed, his eyes closed. He mumbled a quiet I love you, before falling into a deep slumber. My eyes, too, felt tired, but I forced myself to exit his home. I would only hurt our already broke relationship even more if I stayed.
And as I drove off, tears silently fell on my face. I pulled into my driveway and stayed in the car. I unbuckled my seat belt, and pulled my knees onto my chest. The sun began to rise in the distance; it was a new day.
I shoved my hand into my pocket and found a pack of cigarettes. I tapped a stick out and placed it between my lips. Slowly, I lit the stick up and inhaled. I watched the sun detach itself from the horizon and I exhaled gradually as I let nostalgic memories cloud my mind.
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I think that was one of the longest chapters I've ever written. So I hope this makes up for the lack of updates. <3
Thanks for being patient.
author: Sharmel
pairing: Tre/Billie
rating: R
disclaimer: I do not own any of the people in my story. I only own the plot and the words.
summary: "I’ve gotten better at pretending, haven’t I?"
previous parts: Here
dedication: This is for 21enemies I'm so fucking proud of you, so this next chapter is dedicated to you.
1996
Billie.
A smile was always plastered on his face whenever my eyes managed to land on his beautiful face. But I knew him all too well. Or at least, I always liked to think I did. I knew it was me who broke it off. It was me who lied to Mike. Who was I kidding? I was head over heels for him. I was an idiot, though. I should’ve told Mike the truth, but my egotistical pride got the best of me. I didn’t know what came over me when I told Mike those words.
“I’m working on it.”
What a lie. Working on being a better lover, maybe. Perhaps even working on showing my love for him more openly. But the way I said it, I sounded so cold. I understood why Tre felt that way. I was even disgusted with myself. Something appalled me to lie. What could have possibly made me do that? I honestly have no fucking clue. Probably that I was still fucking young and wasn’t ready to strap down into a relationship with him. But that wasn’t the reason. I knew it. I kept telling myself that, though. Every fucking day since I broke it off.
The real reason? I was scared. As hard as it may be for me to admit it, but that was the truth. I was fucking scared. The idea of falling in love with one of my best friends, the idea of fucking him senselessly, the idea of falling in love with a man…I couldn’t swallow it. Not that I was a homophobe, but because I’ve always wanted children. That was the one thing he could never provide me with. And I guess that thought hindered me from loving him to fullest.
Regardless, he still clung to my heart. He wasn’t something I could easily let go. But the more I thought about him, the more I wanted him. The more I needed him. As pathetic as it sounds, I would never be able to stop loving him. And I hated myself for that.
And some time later, Tre came up to me with the biggest fucking smile on his face. Idiot as I was, I thought that he broke it off with Lisea and decided to chose me instead. I was so fucking blind and hopeless. I was so fucking ashamed.
We were at Mike’s house with a bunch of friends, and it was a couple days before we left for the second leg of the tour. And honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to this tour at all. Mostly because he was going to be there 90% of the time. “Billie, I have something to tell you.”
My eyes glanced up to him. His face was glowing, he looked so fucking happy. Deep inside, my heart did back flips. I always loved it when he was down right happy like that. But I kept my cool. I maintained my composure. He was the one who reinforced my decision. He turned me down, too.
“What is it?”
A content sigh escaped his kissable lips as he sat down beside me. I noted how close we were yet so far away. “Billie, I’m getting married.”
If I had been drinking or eating at that very moment, I would’ve choked. I would’ve preferred choking than hearing those words spewing out of his mouth. I totally hadn’t expected that. Not one bit. But, I continued to play it cool. How? Really, I don’t have a clue. That was one of my talents, I suppose. Lying.
“Congrats, man! I’m happy for you.” I tried so hard to sound supportive, and to sound like I was actually sincere. But we both knew I was lying. We both knew I was full of bull shit. But we just grinned like idiots, and pretended otherwise. I felt so fake. I hated it. I hated every bit of it.
He briefly patted my shoulder and sauntered off to share the news with everyone in the room. I wanted to grabbed him and slap some sense into him. A part of me wanted to grow some balls for once and tell him to pick me instead of her. But that was childish. I already did that before, and he declined. Our paths have separated. He accepted that fact. I still hadn’t.
Finally, the number of people in the house started decreasing. It was one of those rare occasions where Mike was drunk out of his mind. Being a good friend I was, I tucked him soundly in bed. As I came down the steps, I noticed it was only Tre left. He had a beer in hand, and his beautiful blue eyes were cast downwards. He hadn’t noticed me gawking at him as I stood on the bottom steps of the stairs.
The happiness that was once present on his face was wiped away, and its place was grief and tiredness. He took a swig of his beer and that was when he felt my presence in the room. His eyes wearily glanced my way and a sigh escaped his mouth.
“I thought you went home,” he mumbled as he focused his attention back to his beverage. I said nothing and walked toward him.
A couple rows of empty beer bottles were laid out on the table in front of him, and I assumed more than half of those were his - if not all. As I stood a mere foot away from him, he faced me once more. I was about to say something, but instead, I sighed and began to turn away. But he reached out toward me and pulled me back.
“Why do you always leave me?” His question struck me like a punch in the gut. I knew what he really meant by that question, but coward as I was, I played it dumb once again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tre.” My voice stayed even, and I was surprised it didn’t falter. He closed his eyes as he stumbled toward me. He toppled onto me, and I got a whiff of his breath. His breath reeked alcohol.
Ever since I broke it off with him, he played it smart and hadn’t gotten drunk out of his mind ever since. So when I smelled his breath, I was shocked. But at the same time, I was almost glad. Whenever Tre got drunk, he always spoke his mind, he always spoke the truth.
I slowly lead him toward the couch and sat him down. I sat down beside him and took the beer that he still clutched in his hand away. I hadn’t drunk that much that night, so I took the liberty of downing the rest of the contents. I felt too sober at that particular moment.
“Why’d you drink so much, Tre?”
His eyes remained closed, and he took a few moments before answering. “I don’t know. Probably ‘cause I’m getting married.”
My eyebrows shot up. And before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “But you were so happy when you told me.”
His blue orbs finally opened and stared at me. He shrugged and inched closer to me. For the first time, I was feeling nervous. “I’ve gotten better at pretending, haven’t I?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Guess that makes the two of us.”
He shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle. “I always know when you’re lying. The only time I can’t tell is when it comes to our love. Or, the love we once had.”
I was speechless. But then again, words always seemed to escape my mind when it comes to him. So I said nothing and just stared back at him, and continued to keep my composure - or at least, whatever composure I had left.
His eyes narrowed in frustration as he weakly threw a punch on my chest. Even though it was a weak punch, I felt so damaged, so hurt, so injured.
But before I could answer, he yelled out, “Why can’t I stop loving you, goddamnit? I rejected you so that you could be with your wife. So that you could raise that kid with her. I thought I could stop loving you! But why the hell can’t I? Each time I always fucking see your goddamn pretty face, I always get knots tied up in my stomach. Every time you enter a room, my heart pounds so fucking hard that I’m afraid that someone might hear. Ever since the day I rejected you, my love wouldn’t stop growing. Why is that, Billie? Why goddamnit?” His breathing became shallow when he stopped yelling. I was surprised that Mike didn’t wake.
I was speechless; I didn’t know what to say. But I felt as if the burden on my heart was lifted slightly. He still loved me. Although, I knew it was only temporarily. He would forget all about his confession the next day. But I pushed that thought out of my mind. I wanted to satisfy my heart one last time.
So I pushed him gently down on the couch, and I hovered over him. Our eyes were locked, and our breathing was in sync. Moments later, our lips roughly collided with each other. It was full of anger, regret, remorse, passion, and longing. God, I missed his lips.
But as I tasted the alcohol in his breath, my thoughts were snapped back to reality. Guilt struck me like a lightning bolt, and I parted from our heated kiss. His eyes were full of question and lust and were drunk with litres of cheap alcohol.
I sighed deeply as I stood up. I hoisted him up and led him to the front door. As I balanced him with one arm, I closed the door shut. We headed toward my car, and I safely buckled him in. When guilt washed over my conscience, all the alcohol I consumed that night disappeared. My mind was sober once again, and I hated it.
The ride back to Tre’s house was quiet - too quiet for my liking. And when I pulled up in front of his house, I finally got the nerve to glance at him. Tears drowned his face. My heart felt unbearably heavy, but I kept myself together for his sake and mine. I got out of the vehicle and went to his side to help him walk to his house. His arm draped over my shoulder as we slowly shuffled to his home. Neither of us uttered a word. Only tears seemed to do the talking.
We reached his door, and he fumbled around his pockets for the keys. Finally, he found them and began to insert whatever key into the hole. After the fourth attempt, he groaned frustratingly. A sigh escaped my lips as I took the keys from him. His arm fell over my shoulders once more. He felt heavier than before.
I finally found the right key and turned the knob to open the door. I walked him inside and helped kick off his footwear. Lisea liked to keep the house clean, and insisted not to wear shoes in the house. She would make a great wife.
He reached toward me, but I stepped back. I shook my head and turned toward the door. Before I could take another step, his arms latched around me. “Don’t go.”
After that, I found myself lying in his guest bedroom’s bed with him. But the moment we fell on the bed, his eyes closed. He mumbled a quiet I love you, before falling into a deep slumber. My eyes, too, felt tired, but I forced myself to exit his home. I would only hurt our already broke relationship even more if I stayed.
And as I drove off, tears silently fell on my face. I pulled into my driveway and stayed in the car. I unbuckled my seat belt, and pulled my knees onto my chest. The sun began to rise in the distance; it was a new day.
I shoved my hand into my pocket and found a pack of cigarettes. I tapped a stick out and placed it between my lips. Slowly, I lit the stick up and inhaled. I watched the sun detach itself from the horizon and I exhaled gradually as I let nostalgic memories cloud my mind.
------------------------
I think that was one of the longest chapters I've ever written. So I hope this makes up for the lack of updates. <3
Thanks for being patient.