In the End

Billie Joe's eye snapped open. He yawned, closing his eye again, lifting his arm to put it around my waist.

But all he hit was the bed, instead of my body.

He lifted his head, and looked at the empty space on the bed next to him.

He scrunched his nose, giving the "What the fuck" look, before pushing himself up, only to fall back.

Billie Joe rubbed his head slowly, cursing at himself for getting drunk, and having the hangover.

And then it popped into his head why I wasn't there.

"Oh crap" He muttered to himself, trying to stand up and failing, "Please don't tell me I was that much of a dick last night"

He dropped his legs onto the floor, still rubbing his head.

"I'm beginning to fucking hate beer" He said angrily to himself.

Billie Joe pushed himself up, nearly falling over.

"God dammit" He nearly yelled, "Get a fucking hold of yourself, man"

After another couple minutes of trying to stop the room from spinning, he stumbled to the door of his bedroom, flung it open, and stumbled down the hallway.

He stuck his hands out, not wanting to fall, making the wall the only thing keeping him up.

Billie Joe got down to my room, and grabbed onto the door handle, twisting it, and opening up the door to reveal my sleeping figure.

"Fuck" He whispered to himself, "She's pissed off at you, you drunk bastard"

He cursed at himself once again, before stumbling over to my bed, feeling his heart drop.

"Babe?" He whispered softly, partly because any loud noises would make him want to kill someone, and 2nd because reason 1 was right, "You asleep?"

I moved around a little, opening my eyes slowly, to meet his. He smiled gently down at me, his eyes filled with guilt.

"What?" I asked bluntly, feeling sadness yet anger run through me

He swallowed, before smiling again.

"Why...why'd you sleep in here? You never sleep in here"

I looked up at him, and sat up, "Because you locked me out of our room last night"

Billie Joe felt the knot in his throat grow larger, he had been an asshole.

"I did?" He asked softly, sitting down on the bed next to me

I nodded, "Yeah...after you told me off"

Billie Joe closed his eyes, feeling his heart drop. He had done the exact opposite of what he had wanted to do.

"What'd I do?" He asked, opening his eyes

I sighed, and looked down, "You got pissed off because I wouldn't fuck you," I paused, "You were violent"

You were violent.

Those were some of the last words he wanted to hear.

"I was?" He croaked

"Mhm," I nodded, "You started freaking out, I'm amazed you didn't hit me...although you bruised my shoulders..."

He swallowed, and looked down, not knowing what to say "I'm sorry"

I just shrugged. I wasn't happy with him...at all. He had hurt me mentally, leaving a bruise on my heart.

But I also knew that he was pissed. And as he sat there at that moment with me, he knew he had been a complete asshole.

He looked back up at me from the top of his eyes, still bowing his head as if he were a dog, "I really am"

I nodded, "I know...but" I sighed, "You really were scary...You were pushing me down by my shoulders, screaming at me"

Billie Joe's heart dropped.

Why are you such an asshole?

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whimpered, "This...this is why I didn't want to get drunk"

I looked at him, "Then why did you?"

"I don't know," He said softly, "I had one beer...and one turned to two...two turned to three...and three turned into 7"

"You had 7 beers within an hour?" I asked, feeling myself heat up, "What the hell? Did you like drink them in one fucking sip? Honestly, Billie Joe...are you stupid, or do you just have no will power?"

Billie Joe winced at my words, not daring to look at me.

"Both" He finally whispered, "I'm stupid because I have no will power..."

I didn't want him to admit it, I just wanted him to think...without making me feel bad.

I sighed, and got up, sliding off the bed, and walking around the back making my way out the door.

"I've noticed" Was all I said, before walking out and down the stairs leaving Billie Joe to silently beat himself up in the room.

***

The fact that I hadn't seen Billie Joe all day only made me feel even more like crap.

I hated Billie Joe for doing what he did, for hurting me...but yet I hated him more for making me feel like shit by not seeing him.

Since that morning I hadn't heard movement from upstairs, and I would have known if he had gone out.

All the lights in the house were off, casting an eerie glow over the downstairs from the outside. I hadn't even noticed how fast the day had gone by.

I sighed, and turned off the water wiping my hands on the towel before shoving my hands in my hoodie's pocket, and walked over to the stairs.

It was like an argument with myself for the next couple minutes..to go up and see if there was any life upstairs, or to let him rot. for being such an asshole.

I knew he couldn't help the way he acted when he was drunk...but he could help getting drunk in the first place.

As if telling me what to do, I heard footsteps and a door open. It was the door to 'my' bedroom, where he had been all day.

I walked back into the kitchen, shut off the light, and walked into the lounge. The house had been cleaner now, since I had been cleaning all day...in a way it got my mind off of everything...

Not really.

I had called possibly everyone on my cell phone..by now everyone was asleep that I knew, and I was awake nearly ripping the hair out of my head trying to figure out something to do to stop me from breaking down like I had after leaving the room that morning.

The house fell silent, meaning he must have stopped walking around..or it was only my imagination and he was still upstairs.

In a way I was praying that he was, and in a way I was praying that he was coming downstairs.

I ran my hand through my hair, and sat down on the couch that I had been on a lot the day, the couch that was probably filled with my tears.

I turned the tv on, bringing my legs up to my chin, and burying my head in them feeling the tears re-surface again.

"You're such an asshole," I whimpered into them, "So why do I love you so god damn much?"

I sobbed quietly into my legs, letting my jeans get soaked with tears.

"I hate you" I barely whispered harshly to myself, "So, so fucking much"

I was beginning to go hysterical again, my words going from sad whimpers to harsh mutters.

"You promised," I whimpered, "Only 2 fucking days ago you fucking promised you wouldn't be like this. Promise you wouldn't make me feel alone," I paused letting out a sob, "I rather be alone..because as of now this is worse"

I heard footsteps again, as my sobs became more ghostly.

"Never meant to," I heard someone say sadly, "I..know it doesn't mean much...I just..never meant to..."

I dragged my head against my legs, before peering over my knees to see a weak looking Billie Joe standing in the doorway.

"It won't fix what I've done..I don't think anything can," He paused, looking at me and catching my eye, "I can't erase what I've done...I know I can't. I know you hate me..."

He had heard me, every word I had said.

"But I deserve to be hated," He added softly, "I deserve to be hurt like you were...only worst. I know you probably think this is all bull shit..but," He paused, "It's not..I'm fucked up, I know. I'm probably more fucked up than most people you know. I'm a drunk. A dick. A fuck-head. An asshole..whatever you want to call me..it's true"

"I hate you" I whispered..I really hadn't meant to

Billie Joe bowed his head, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut, and nodded, "I know...so do I"

"Why?" I asked

"Why...?" He repeated slowly

"Why do YOU hate yourself"

He looked at me, biting on his lip, "Because of this. Because in the past 2 days I've managed to be a bigger asshole than most people are throughout their whole life"

"Why did you get drunk?" I asked softly, "If you promised me you wouldn't, why did you?"

"I...don't know.." He said, "I'm an alcoholic...I don't wanna be..but I have been, and I still am. I get drunk when I don't want to"

I nodded, looking away from him, "You scared me"

"I'm so sorry"

"I know you are, Billie" I said softly, "But-"

"It's not that simple" He cut me off in a knowing tone, "I know...nothing is simple. Nothing is ever simple. Like us. Two totally different people, put together randomly. Good thing..just not simple"

"I like us," I said looking at him, "You and me. Not drunk you an me"

He looked down, scuffing the floor with his sock, "I don't want you to see the drunk me-"

"You're not always bad," I cut him off, "Just last night..it's the only time you ever got that violent"

"I..I don't know why I was violent...I don't even remember last night...this morning I wanted to get up, wake you up and maybe go out for a while 'er something...not find out that I had hurt you, and was on a rampage the night before"

I looked away, not wanting to look at him.

I felt a hand gently touch the side of my neck, and looked up to see Billie Joe's sad eyes looking down at me. He tugged slightly at my shirt, pulling it lightly over my shoulder enabling himself to see the marks from the night before.

His breath hitched, as he looked from my shoulder to me, dreading the thought that the mark had come from him.

I just sat curled up, looking up at him as his eyes looked it over.

"I abused you"

My eyes widened at what he had just said.

"Just when you though you were safe," He said to me, "You get hurt again"

"Billie-"

He shook his head, "I warned you that I could be an asshole with my words," He paused, breathing slowly, trying to stay strong, "I never warned you about how I could hurt you...I never thought I would..but holy shit. I..did this"

He slowly traced the mark on my shoulder, closing his eyes, and silently beating himself up.

"How the fuck did I?"

"You were drunk...that's all that needs to be said"

Billie Joe slowly sat on the couch, right next to me. Why, I dunno...but I just curled up next to him burying my head in his neck while he did the same to me.

I felt my neck become damp from tears, but they weren't mine. I tried to see if it was him, crying but he wouldn't let me pull away to see his face.

He had always been like that...he never liked to let me see him cry. If I had walked in on him crying or something, he would try to cover it up by saying how he just had something in his eye...

I wasn't stupid, I knew he was.

"God I'm so sorry" He whispered, wiping his eyes on my neck, "I know sorry doesn't cut it..I'm just..I don't know what to say"

He pressed his lips gently against my neck, nuzzling his nose into it.

"I know I shouldn't have promised that...I know I shouldn't have. And I think I tried so hard not to get drunk that I did," He paused kissing my neck again, "That doesn't even make sense, does it?"

I smiled softly to myself, "It does"

He sobbed quietly into my neck, not moving from how we sat.

"I...don't expect you to forgive me" He said slowly after a moment

That's good...considering I didn't.

"I know" Was the only response I could think of.

He knew I was pissed off at him, and he knew that I couldn't stand him at the moment. The only reason I was sitting there with him was because of the fact I was too weak to push him away.

He knew that how I wasn't screaming at him was too good for how he was. He knew he was an asshole, and that he was hated at the moment..by himself and me.

He knew he was in possibly the deepest shit there was with Mike and Tre..and that whatever they did, he would deserve.