You remind me of everything I love
Title: Suicide Makeover (29/?)
Author: Logan
Pairing: young!Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13
Previous: 1-28
Summary: My fingers tangle in his hair once again as I give him my answer in the form of a kiss that’s almost too messy to be considered one.
“H--hello?” She pauses as she looks at me, lips drawn into a thin line as her eyes drag up and down my body, “I’m really not interested in purchasing anything that you have to sell. I’m terribly sorry, I’m just…on my way out and--”
“I’m not selling anything,” Holy shit, this woman really is insane, “I’m actually here because I was wondering if Billie Joe was home?”
Her expression changes, it’s almost as though it softens a bit, and she welcomes me into the front entrance, “Oh, wonderful! I’ll go and get him. It’s so nice to see that he has other friends coming around. And how does he know you?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and debate making up a story about where I met her son, but I don’t, “I was in the, uh, hospital with him. I was his roommate and he told me to maybe come by sometime to just see, you know, how we’re both doing. I called him earlier and he said it was okay to come by and…”
She forces a smile and nods her head, “Yes, that sounds like a wonderful plan. Just hold on one minute and I’ll go grab him.”
I wait in the front hall and begin a mental debate with myself on whether or not I should take off my shoes. I’m still thinking about it when she bursts back into the room leading a rather sullen looking Billie Joe directly behind her.
I faintly listen to her as she tells Billie Joe that she is leaving and that she’ll be back, with the kids, sometime around six. He’s nodding his head like he’s listening while his eyes are seemingly boring holes into my fucking head. The moment she walks out the door, stilettos clicking on the tiled floor, he turns around and begins to head towards the door that, I’m assuming, leads to the basement.
“Are you coming or are you just going to stand there until she gets back and kicks you out?”
His voice has this hint of playfulness in it and he’s smiling as he leans against the doorframe and beckons me forward with a nod of his head. I just nod right back at him because I’m a huge dorky idiot and follow him down the carpeted stairs.
Stepping down the last stair and into the basement I can’t help but feel as though this isn’t Billie Joe. The walls are carpeted, a white colour that seems too pristine and bright for Billie Joe. They go along with the light grey walls. Those kind of fit Billie Joe a bit better. Well, they’d fit him better if they were a shade or three darker but still, they fit better than the carpet.
“Are you going to just stare at the basement or are you going to follow me into my room?”
Billie Joe says this with his arms crossed across his chest and this weird grin on his face. Of course this isn’t his bedroom and now he probably thinks I’m an idiot. But I guess I kind of am. Because looking around again, this basement would be missing a lot of things that would make it a bedroom. Namely a bed. And anything that looks like Billie Joe.
I follow him into his bedroom and this, this looks more like Billie Joe. The carpet is still white but covered with so many clothes and books and CD cases that the white is barely noticeable. The walls are still grey, but about three shades darker than the grey of the rest of the basement. Except for the wall that the headboard of his bed is pushed up against. That wall is a deep red and the blankets of his bed are black and surprisingly neat.
He shoves a pile of CDs off of the edge of his desk and hoists himself up onto the metal frame. I outwardly wince at the sound of the cases hitting each other and, no doubt, breaking a few. He just grins and beckons me forward with his hand.
“I’m not going to bite, y’know,” He smiles and laces his fingers through mine the minute I reach him, “These past few weeks have been fucking hard. Thanks for calling.”
He mumbles the last bit but I catch it and can’t help but smile. Because yeah, I might still have a kinda huge crush on him and him making these nice little comments and holding my hand like he is isn’t helping me get over it. As I’m thinking about this his fingers tighten around mine and he makes this noise that sounds like a cross between a gasp and a sob. I can’t help but look at him, worry written all over my face.
“Are you okay? Is this…is this okay? I can go if y--”
“No,” He shakes his head and slides off of the desk. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face into the material of my hoodie, “I just…I need someone right now.”
The way he says it, all mumbled and quiet-like, makes my heart shatter and my arms curl around his shoulders, “What about…what about Frankie?”
He just shakes his head and fights back another sob before starting to walk forwards, pushing my body backwards in the process. He continues with this until the backs of my knees hit the side of the bed and my body tumbles backwards onto the blanket. He covers my body with his own and sobs, a real sob.
I can feel his head shake against my collarbone as he mumbles, “He’s fucked off on me. ‘M not allowed to see him and he didn’t want to do anymore sneaking around shit. Got sick of climbing in through the basement windows. Got sick of me.”
My hands are running across his back, fingers drawing random designs as I respond, “Well, I’m here and I don’t have to sneak into your house so I can’t get sick of it,” He tilts his head up and smiles at that comment so I continue, “And I promise I won’t get sick of you. I don’t think I could ever get sick of you.” The last sentence is accompanied by a blush that I can feel straight down to my toes.
Billie Joe just smiles a bit wider and props himself up on his elbows. He leans forward and drops a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth. It’s all kinds of shy and nervous and so not Billie Joe that it makes my heart race. I slide my hands up from his back to tangle in his hair as he presses another kiss to my lips. This one’s harder and needier, his tongue running across my bottom lip and opening my mouth.
I can’t help but tug on his hair and moan as he sucks my lip into his mouth and fists his hands in the hoodie that has begun to get a bit too warm. He releases my lips to gather some much needed air and shove his hands up and underneath my hoodie. Together we get the damn thing over my head and he tosses it onto the floor, joining the mess. My shirt rides up in the process and he runs his hands, his cold hands, across my exposed skin.
His lips find mine again and go on to search out the skin covering my neck. He kisses and licks and sucks at the skin, no doubt marking me in ways that will be impossible to cover, before sighing and whispering against the damp skin.
“I need this. I fucking need this. Need you.”
My fingers tangle in his hair once again as I give him my answer in the form of a kiss that’s almost too messy to be considered one.
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Author: Logan
Pairing: young!Billie/Mike
Rating: PG-13
Previous: 1-28
Summary: My fingers tangle in his hair once again as I give him my answer in the form of a kiss that’s almost too messy to be considered one.
“H--hello?” She pauses as she looks at me, lips drawn into a thin line as her eyes drag up and down my body, “I’m really not interested in purchasing anything that you have to sell. I’m terribly sorry, I’m just…on my way out and--”
“I’m not selling anything,” Holy shit, this woman really is insane, “I’m actually here because I was wondering if Billie Joe was home?”
Her expression changes, it’s almost as though it softens a bit, and she welcomes me into the front entrance, “Oh, wonderful! I’ll go and get him. It’s so nice to see that he has other friends coming around. And how does he know you?”
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and debate making up a story about where I met her son, but I don’t, “I was in the, uh, hospital with him. I was his roommate and he told me to maybe come by sometime to just see, you know, how we’re both doing. I called him earlier and he said it was okay to come by and…”
She forces a smile and nods her head, “Yes, that sounds like a wonderful plan. Just hold on one minute and I’ll go grab him.”
I wait in the front hall and begin a mental debate with myself on whether or not I should take off my shoes. I’m still thinking about it when she bursts back into the room leading a rather sullen looking Billie Joe directly behind her.
I faintly listen to her as she tells Billie Joe that she is leaving and that she’ll be back, with the kids, sometime around six. He’s nodding his head like he’s listening while his eyes are seemingly boring holes into my fucking head. The moment she walks out the door, stilettos clicking on the tiled floor, he turns around and begins to head towards the door that, I’m assuming, leads to the basement.
“Are you coming or are you just going to stand there until she gets back and kicks you out?”
His voice has this hint of playfulness in it and he’s smiling as he leans against the doorframe and beckons me forward with a nod of his head. I just nod right back at him because I’m a huge dorky idiot and follow him down the carpeted stairs.
Stepping down the last stair and into the basement I can’t help but feel as though this isn’t Billie Joe. The walls are carpeted, a white colour that seems too pristine and bright for Billie Joe. They go along with the light grey walls. Those kind of fit Billie Joe a bit better. Well, they’d fit him better if they were a shade or three darker but still, they fit better than the carpet.
“Are you going to just stare at the basement or are you going to follow me into my room?”
Billie Joe says this with his arms crossed across his chest and this weird grin on his face. Of course this isn’t his bedroom and now he probably thinks I’m an idiot. But I guess I kind of am. Because looking around again, this basement would be missing a lot of things that would make it a bedroom. Namely a bed. And anything that looks like Billie Joe.
I follow him into his bedroom and this, this looks more like Billie Joe. The carpet is still white but covered with so many clothes and books and CD cases that the white is barely noticeable. The walls are still grey, but about three shades darker than the grey of the rest of the basement. Except for the wall that the headboard of his bed is pushed up against. That wall is a deep red and the blankets of his bed are black and surprisingly neat.
He shoves a pile of CDs off of the edge of his desk and hoists himself up onto the metal frame. I outwardly wince at the sound of the cases hitting each other and, no doubt, breaking a few. He just grins and beckons me forward with his hand.
“I’m not going to bite, y’know,” He smiles and laces his fingers through mine the minute I reach him, “These past few weeks have been fucking hard. Thanks for calling.”
He mumbles the last bit but I catch it and can’t help but smile. Because yeah, I might still have a kinda huge crush on him and him making these nice little comments and holding my hand like he is isn’t helping me get over it. As I’m thinking about this his fingers tighten around mine and he makes this noise that sounds like a cross between a gasp and a sob. I can’t help but look at him, worry written all over my face.
“Are you okay? Is this…is this okay? I can go if y--”
“No,” He shakes his head and slides off of the desk. He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face into the material of my hoodie, “I just…I need someone right now.”
The way he says it, all mumbled and quiet-like, makes my heart shatter and my arms curl around his shoulders, “What about…what about Frankie?”
He just shakes his head and fights back another sob before starting to walk forwards, pushing my body backwards in the process. He continues with this until the backs of my knees hit the side of the bed and my body tumbles backwards onto the blanket. He covers my body with his own and sobs, a real sob.
I can feel his head shake against my collarbone as he mumbles, “He’s fucked off on me. ‘M not allowed to see him and he didn’t want to do anymore sneaking around shit. Got sick of climbing in through the basement windows. Got sick of me.”
My hands are running across his back, fingers drawing random designs as I respond, “Well, I’m here and I don’t have to sneak into your house so I can’t get sick of it,” He tilts his head up and smiles at that comment so I continue, “And I promise I won’t get sick of you. I don’t think I could ever get sick of you.” The last sentence is accompanied by a blush that I can feel straight down to my toes.
Billie Joe just smiles a bit wider and props himself up on his elbows. He leans forward and drops a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth. It’s all kinds of shy and nervous and so not Billie Joe that it makes my heart race. I slide my hands up from his back to tangle in his hair as he presses another kiss to my lips. This one’s harder and needier, his tongue running across my bottom lip and opening my mouth.
I can’t help but tug on his hair and moan as he sucks my lip into his mouth and fists his hands in the hoodie that has begun to get a bit too warm. He releases my lips to gather some much needed air and shove his hands up and underneath my hoodie. Together we get the damn thing over my head and he tosses it onto the floor, joining the mess. My shirt rides up in the process and he runs his hands, his cold hands, across my exposed skin.
His lips find mine again and go on to search out the skin covering my neck. He kisses and licks and sucks at the skin, no doubt marking me in ways that will be impossible to cover, before sighing and whispering against the damp skin.
“I need this. I fucking need this. Need you.”
My fingers tangle in his hair once again as I give him my answer in the form of a kiss that’s almost too messy to be considered one.
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