Maybe it's love, love at first slightly drunk
Title: Suicide Makeover (24/?)
Author: Logan
Pairing: young!Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13
Previous: 1-23
Summary: You'd think that I'd be smarter about protecting my heart.
Billie Joe is hunched over his knees, right foot tapping like crazy, and one hundred percent avoiding me. He’s been like this since last night, after everyone left. Well, since he punched me after I shoved him off of my bed. I’ve even got a nice fucking black eye to prove it. He told me that I am not to mention it because it’ll get him thrown into fucking anger counselling.
This was before it bruised. Now that it’s nice and bruised? Well…I can’t really just ignore it if she asks, can I? And Billie Joe’s not saying anything because he’s not talking to me so I don’t know if I’m supposed to pretend like I don’t have a black eye or not.
“Billie Joe…”
His head snaps up and his foot stops tapping. Thank God, because his foot tapping was starting to get really fucking annoying. His little movements were shaking my chair as well because we were sitting so close to each other.
He stares into my eyes and frowns angrily. He gives me the finger and goes back to staring at his knees. Both feet tapping like mad as we wait for Dr. Moore to open her fucking door.
“Billie Joe,” I try again, reaching forward to place one tentative hand on Billie Joe’s shoulder, “What am I supposed to do when she asks about this?” I motion towards my eye, accidentally hitting it in the process and letting out a cry of pain which catches his attention.
“I don’t know, tell her that you fucking fell. I don’t give a shit,” Billie Joe sighs heavily and shrugs my hand off of his shoulder, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
I lift my hand and raise my eyebrows but of course he’s not looking at me so he doesn’t see. My eye is starting to feel really sore and I can feel a headache coming on but I’m not just going to fucking drop this shit.
“Billie Joe, I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything so just tell me what I’m supposed to say to her,” I probably sound like I’m begging him right now but I don’t really care. I don’t want these last four…three?…days to be hell around him.
He shrugs and looks up into my eyes and holy shit are his eyes ever angry, “Just…I don’t know. Just don’t say anything that will make them keep me here. Okay?”
Billie Joe softens his eyes as he ends his statement. I’m about to say something else when the door opens and Dr. Moore beckons us into her room with a smile.
It’s even more cramped than usual. My chair is squished up against Billie Joe’s, our elbows brushing each other each time one of us makes the tiniest of moves. He’s trying to inch away but his moving really is just bringing us closer together.
“So, do you two want to explain exactly what was going on last night?” Dr. Moore clears her throat and we both swing our heads upwards, not even realizing that we were both staring at our arms, “And don’t you dare say nothing because something happened last night. Why don’t you start, Michael, how does your eye feel?”
My hand flies up to my face, a groan escaping my lips as I hit the still tender bruise, “Uh…It’s fine? It’s nothing really…I think I…I think I hit it on the bed when I was…”
She smiles and stops me, “I understand, I’m not going to say anything more about the eye,” She glances at Billie Joe with a look, “So explain to me what has been going on.”
Billie Joe’s staring at the ground and obviously not going to say anything, so I jump in.
“He came into the room and sat down on my bed so I asked him to get off. And then…I don’t know…I pulled him off of my bed and he pulled me and we started…fighting?” I don’t even know what I’m saying and I don’t want to say too much because I know that I’m going to mention how Billie wishes he had never kissed me.
“You fucking fucker!”
Billie Joe’s fist flies into my arm and I turn to stare at him, both hands moving to cover my face as I demand what the fuck is going on.
Dr. Moore leans across her cluttered desk and forces the two of us apart with a yell and a frown, “You said something about a kiss. What the hell are you talking about?”
I glance over at Billie Joe, who is fucking steaming with anger, and offer him a weak smile. I feel like throwing up and I want nothing more than to just leave this fucking room right the fuck now. But once again, Billie Joe isn’t fucking speaking.
“We…uh…we might’ve kissed…just once…or twice,” My voice catches and I look to Billie Joe to fill in any blanks.
He rolls his eyes but continues, “Yeah, so I kissed him a couple times. What is the big fucking deal?”
“The big deal is that you,” She stares at Billie Joe, “Have a dependency problem. You do this over and over again and it has to stop. I thought that we’ve worked it out that part of the problem with your cutting and depression had to do with the fact that you get too emotionally attached to every single person who, in your eyes, lets you down.”
Billie Joe turns a dark red and sinks further into his chair. I don’t know what to say because I feel like I’ve suddenly entered into a private therapy session and I almost want to get up and leave but Billie Joe’s words stop me.
“Yeah, I have some issues with that but it doesn’t matter with him,” He sighs heavily and looks at me, “I like him, yeah, but I don’t like him like that. I’ve come to terms with other shit and I have a boyfriend. I don’t need Mike to be my fucking boyfriend or my friend or anything.”
I’ve gone from feeling like an intruder to feeling right pissed off in a matter of fucking seconds, “What the fuck are you fucking talking about?” I ignore the look I get from Dr. Moore and twist my body so I’m staring right into Billie Joe’s green eyes, “You don’t fucking like me like that? Well what the fuck have we been doing since I got here? Just fooling around? Just something to keep your mind occupied until you can get back to your boyfriend? Because, news-fucking-flash, I really like you.”
Billie Joe opens his mouth and closes it just as quickly. He just looks at me and I have to look away. I feel so…I don’t even know, but looking at him makes it ten times worse than I felt before looking at him. I feel like I did back in the second grade when I gave a pink glitter-covered valentine to this girl that I liked. I hated pink and I hated glitter but she loved both so I spent a good half hour making it perfect the night before, getting my favourite shirt covered in glitter in the process. She had said thanks and just tossed it in her box of valentines. She gave her valentine cookie to another boy, one who had spelt her name wrong on the card he gave her, and broke my seven-year old heart.
And Billie Joe is doing the exact same thing. Except I’m about nearly ten years older and you’d think that I’d be smarter about protecting my heart, but I’m really not. If anything, I’m a hell of a lot stupider. I just got out of a messy as fuck relationship mere months ago and then I got involved in a fucking gay thing while in a fucking psych ward.
Billie Joe finally says something. I think he says sorry or something along those lines before getting up and pushing his way out of the room.
I just stare blankly at Dr. Moore and apologize for the way this thing turned out.
And then I follow Billie Joe because, for some fucked up reason, I still want him to fucking love me.
Shit.
Did I just say love?
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