Boring music, depressing talk shows
Title: Suicide Makeover (27/?)
Author: Logan
Pairing: young!Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13
Previous: 1-26
Summary: It's my last full day here. Billie Joe's last full day here. Our last full day together.
A/N: I'm pretty sure that Sharmel (generationxhero ) is getting ready to murder me for not updating when I have three parts written...so, I decided to update!
It’s my last full day here. Billie Joe’s last full day here. Our last full day together. Tomorrow around noon, my mom is coming and we’re having one last meeting with Dr. Moore. To discuss my plans for the future or some shit like that. Basically her way of saying that she doesn’t want to see me back here. Which is good because I don’t plan on coming back.
But I’m not too sure about Billie Joe. Something seems…off about him, especially after our early-morning talk yesterday. All day yesterday he was…okay but he wasn’t like the Billie Joe that I’ve gotten used to. He was so far from being the Billie Joe that I thought I knew.
And last night. Last night he was fucking clingy as hell. As soon as we were in our room and away from all those goddamn prying eyes, he clamped his arms around my neck and just hugged me. Actually, I don’t even know if it can be classified as a hug. Hugs are supposed to be soft and gentle and nice and that thing was so far from being any of the above.
It was tight. And suffocating. And it hurt. It hurt emotionally and physically. It felt like my ribs were breaking, bones snapping into a million tiny pieces as Billie Joe hugged me close and shook. I just don’t know if it felt like that because he was pressing so tightly against them or if it was all metaphorical and shit and it was really just my heart aching for him.
I don’t even remember falling asleep in his bed last night but I woke up this morning with his body sprawled out on top of mine. He was wide awake and playing with the material of my t-shirt. Twisting it around and around until I was sure that he had stretched the cotton out of shape. He noticed me staring and had blushed an awfully adorable shade of pink.
I kissed him. I still don’t know why, but I kissed him. Hard. He missed his sunset because we were making out on his bed. It would’ve gone further if someone hadn’t knocked on our door to tell us that breakfast was ready and waiting and that we better get out of bed.
So now I’m sitting on the edge of one of the ugly couches, just staring out the window as the clouds slowly dance across the pale blue sky. It looks nice outside, it looks fucking gorgeous outside, and I smile to myself as the thought crosses my mind that I will actually get to witness that weather come tomorrow. Well, witness it properly. Not just out on a small, square balcony with my vision clouded by cigarette smoke or Billie Joe.
“What’re you looking at?” Of course, the moment I start thinking about him he comes out of hiding. He squints his green eyes and stares at the sky, “That cloud kind of looks like a polar bear.”
I smile, just a little bit, and ask, “Why a polar bear? It kind of looks like a bear, I guess, but why a polar bear?”
“It’s white.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep my laughter at bay before looking over at him and meeting his eyes, “No shit, Billie Joe, the clouds are white.”
He rolls his eyes and falls back against the couch cushions. He groans, rather dramatically, and covers his eyes with both hands. I know that he wants me to ask him what’s wrong. His body language is practically begging that someone come up and ask him.
“Where were you all day?” It’s a safe enough question. One that will let him talk and will allow me to keep my head in its rightful place, with my body.
He shakes his head and lets out another groan, “With my mother and the fucking shrink. My step-father too--”
“Mother and step-father?”
“Mom and dad are too personal for them,” Billie Joe explains before shushing me, “My mom--sorry--my mother doesn't have time for an appointment tomorrow, on my last day, so they made one for today. And holy fucking mother of god, that was an appointment that I never want to re-live.”
“You’re making me look so forward to my meeting with my mom and her tomorrow,” I can’t help but roll my own eyes and grin at him. Except, he’s not grinning back. No, he’s blinking at a pace that’s all too fast to be normal. His eyes all wet and rimmed with red. My voice falters and nearly breaks as I question him, “Hey, what’s--what’s wrong?”
He just shakes his head and whispers that here is not the place that he wants to talk. So I grab onto his arm. Stand up and pull him with me. Then, then I lead him out of this room and down the hall to our own, somewhere where he can talk without anyone listening in and telling us their own viewpoint on the matter. Believe me, people actually do that here.
“She--she told me that I can’t see him anymore,” Billie Joe falls onto the floor next to his bed, I join him rather awkwardly. He makes some quiet comment about his short fucking legs looking way too short next to mine before continuing, “That stupid fucking bitch says that I’m not going back to school. That she’s already set up a tutor to come to the house every single day. That I’m not allowed out of her sight until she knows that I’m okay.”
“And Dr. Moore put up with that?”
Billie Joe shakes his head as he bites on his lip, “No, she told me all this after the meeting was over. She said that she talked with her husband and they’ve decided that it’s the only thing that they can possibly do.”
I feel like finding that woman, hunting her down like a fucking animal looking for prey, and beating the shit out of her. Except, I’d never hit a woman and Billie Joe’s mom actually sounds kind of scary. Instead I just grab onto his hand and tell him that it’ll be okay and that they won’t actually go through with these plans once he gets home.
“You don’t know them! You can’t fucking say that!” Billie Joe is near hysterics, my hand quickly flying out of his to cover his mouth. He’s still yelling, muffled by my palm, until the tears start.
I don’t even know what I’m doing, but suddenly I’ve got my arms around his body and he’s crying onto my shoulder. The sleeve of my shirt is damp with his tears and my own eyes are watery as I let my hands run across his back. He’s shaking and sobbing and clutching onto my shirt with his tiny hands.
He’s mumbling something. Over and over again. It takes me a few seconds to make out the words and when I finally figure them out my stomach drops.
I’m so scared, so fucking scared. Can’t do this, not going to do this. Not again.
---------------------------------
Just so you guys know, I do read every single one of the comments left and I love all of them.
I've tried to keep up with commenting back on them but I always forget...BUT THEY STILL MEAN A LOT TO ME!
Just thought I'd say that.
And thanks for the continued support and reading.
<3333
( Next Part )
Author: Logan
Pairing: young!Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13
Previous: 1-26
Summary: It's my last full day here. Billie Joe's last full day here. Our last full day together.
A/N: I'm pretty sure that Sharmel (generationxhero ) is getting ready to murder me for not updating when I have three parts written...so, I decided to update!
It’s my last full day here. Billie Joe’s last full day here. Our last full day together. Tomorrow around noon, my mom is coming and we’re having one last meeting with Dr. Moore. To discuss my plans for the future or some shit like that. Basically her way of saying that she doesn’t want to see me back here. Which is good because I don’t plan on coming back.
But I’m not too sure about Billie Joe. Something seems…off about him, especially after our early-morning talk yesterday. All day yesterday he was…okay but he wasn’t like the Billie Joe that I’ve gotten used to. He was so far from being the Billie Joe that I thought I knew.
And last night. Last night he was fucking clingy as hell. As soon as we were in our room and away from all those goddamn prying eyes, he clamped his arms around my neck and just hugged me. Actually, I don’t even know if it can be classified as a hug. Hugs are supposed to be soft and gentle and nice and that thing was so far from being any of the above.
It was tight. And suffocating. And it hurt. It hurt emotionally and physically. It felt like my ribs were breaking, bones snapping into a million tiny pieces as Billie Joe hugged me close and shook. I just don’t know if it felt like that because he was pressing so tightly against them or if it was all metaphorical and shit and it was really just my heart aching for him.
I don’t even remember falling asleep in his bed last night but I woke up this morning with his body sprawled out on top of mine. He was wide awake and playing with the material of my t-shirt. Twisting it around and around until I was sure that he had stretched the cotton out of shape. He noticed me staring and had blushed an awfully adorable shade of pink.
I kissed him. I still don’t know why, but I kissed him. Hard. He missed his sunset because we were making out on his bed. It would’ve gone further if someone hadn’t knocked on our door to tell us that breakfast was ready and waiting and that we better get out of bed.
So now I’m sitting on the edge of one of the ugly couches, just staring out the window as the clouds slowly dance across the pale blue sky. It looks nice outside, it looks fucking gorgeous outside, and I smile to myself as the thought crosses my mind that I will actually get to witness that weather come tomorrow. Well, witness it properly. Not just out on a small, square balcony with my vision clouded by cigarette smoke or Billie Joe.
“What’re you looking at?” Of course, the moment I start thinking about him he comes out of hiding. He squints his green eyes and stares at the sky, “That cloud kind of looks like a polar bear.”
I smile, just a little bit, and ask, “Why a polar bear? It kind of looks like a bear, I guess, but why a polar bear?”
“It’s white.”
I cover my mouth with my hand to keep my laughter at bay before looking over at him and meeting his eyes, “No shit, Billie Joe, the clouds are white.”
He rolls his eyes and falls back against the couch cushions. He groans, rather dramatically, and covers his eyes with both hands. I know that he wants me to ask him what’s wrong. His body language is practically begging that someone come up and ask him.
“Where were you all day?” It’s a safe enough question. One that will let him talk and will allow me to keep my head in its rightful place, with my body.
He shakes his head and lets out another groan, “With my mother and the fucking shrink. My step-father too--”
“Mother and step-father?”
“Mom and dad are too personal for them,” Billie Joe explains before shushing me, “My mom--sorry--my mother doesn't have time for an appointment tomorrow, on my last day, so they made one for today. And holy fucking mother of god, that was an appointment that I never want to re-live.”
“You’re making me look so forward to my meeting with my mom and her tomorrow,” I can’t help but roll my own eyes and grin at him. Except, he’s not grinning back. No, he’s blinking at a pace that’s all too fast to be normal. His eyes all wet and rimmed with red. My voice falters and nearly breaks as I question him, “Hey, what’s--what’s wrong?”
He just shakes his head and whispers that here is not the place that he wants to talk. So I grab onto his arm. Stand up and pull him with me. Then, then I lead him out of this room and down the hall to our own, somewhere where he can talk without anyone listening in and telling us their own viewpoint on the matter. Believe me, people actually do that here.
“She--she told me that I can’t see him anymore,” Billie Joe falls onto the floor next to his bed, I join him rather awkwardly. He makes some quiet comment about his short fucking legs looking way too short next to mine before continuing, “That stupid fucking bitch says that I’m not going back to school. That she’s already set up a tutor to come to the house every single day. That I’m not allowed out of her sight until she knows that I’m okay.”
“And Dr. Moore put up with that?”
Billie Joe shakes his head as he bites on his lip, “No, she told me all this after the meeting was over. She said that she talked with her husband and they’ve decided that it’s the only thing that they can possibly do.”
I feel like finding that woman, hunting her down like a fucking animal looking for prey, and beating the shit out of her. Except, I’d never hit a woman and Billie Joe’s mom actually sounds kind of scary. Instead I just grab onto his hand and tell him that it’ll be okay and that they won’t actually go through with these plans once he gets home.
“You don’t know them! You can’t fucking say that!” Billie Joe is near hysterics, my hand quickly flying out of his to cover his mouth. He’s still yelling, muffled by my palm, until the tears start.
I don’t even know what I’m doing, but suddenly I’ve got my arms around his body and he’s crying onto my shoulder. The sleeve of my shirt is damp with his tears and my own eyes are watery as I let my hands run across his back. He’s shaking and sobbing and clutching onto my shirt with his tiny hands.
He’s mumbling something. Over and over again. It takes me a few seconds to make out the words and when I finally figure them out my stomach drops.
I’m so scared, so fucking scared. Can’t do this, not going to do this. Not again.
---------------------------------
Just so you guys know, I do read every single one of the comments left and I love all of them.
I've tried to keep up with commenting back on them but I always forget...BUT THEY STILL MEAN A LOT TO ME!
Just thought I'd say that.
And thanks for the continued support and reading.
<3333
( Next Part )