You Just Never Know

***

I’m so glad he’s not angry with me anymore. How could I ever hurt him this bad? How could I? I’ve wiped away his tears countless times but he has never cried because of me before. This isn’t the first time his sitting on my lap crying his eyes out but it’s the first time it has made me feel so helpless. He seems to be ok for now but I know somehow that his tears are still falling. Just because they can’t be seen doesn’t mean they’ve disappeared. They’re on the inside where I can’t reach them. I can’t wipe them away. Man, I’ve really got him wound up. Yet another scar will be added to the countless ones running across his heart and soul. Tomorrow he’ll probably look fine, like nothing has happened. But it’ll be nothing more then an act. All his scars are on the inside and there they run deep. I know because I’m the one who’s been trying to patch him together every time he falls into pieces.

Can I really put the pieces back together this time? I don’t think so. This time it’s my fault. I’m not able to comfort him when I’m a constant reminder of what hurt him in the first place. Oh, Billie, why don’t you believe me? I do love you. I love you so much. How can it possible hurt? Why do think it’s a lie? Why did you pretend not to hear?

“I’m sorry Joe-Joe. I-I am. So sorry. So very sorry. I love you, please believe me. I love you,” I murmur knowing that I risk making him cry again. I can’t stop myself though; the words keep tumbling over my lips as I repeat that I love him over and over again. He shifts and clutches my T-shirt.

“Mikey, I know, just please, just don’t. Don’t say it please,” he whimpers, tugging my clothing desperately. He pulls me as close as possible, pressing some of the air out of my lungs. I don’t listen to him. Because he doesn’t listen to me. He begs me to be quiet. He doesn’t want to hear me saying that I love him but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not until he understands.

“Mike,” he pleads but I just shut my eyes tight and refuse to obey. “Mike, I-I love. I love you,” he whispers and his warm breath ghosts over my face. He frees one of his hands and gently touches my face. I keep my eyes close as he stokes my cheek with his fingertips. His hand sneaks around my neck and he tangles his fingers in my hair. My desperate murmur fades into a quick panting.

“I love you,” he repeats sounding more confident this time. More certain. I try to pull him closer but it’s not possible and all I manage to achieve is making it harder for us to breathe. I still don’t open my eyes, not even when he rests his forehead against mine. My breath comes in shallow gasps but I have no intention of loosing my grip of him. I can feel his body pressed closely against mine, closer than I ever thought possible. His heart is beating so fast. It hammers against his chest so hard that I can feel every single beat. His breathing is rapid and heavy. Every exhale tickle my lips and I let the air he breathes out fill my lungs as I inhale it. We stay like this for a while. I’m not comforting him any longer. I’m not trying to convince him that I’m not lying. I don’t know what this is, but it’s none of the above. There’s a thin line between being close friends and being something else. Something more. I don’t know what but I know we’ve crossed that line a while ago. We have taken the leap into the unknown.

As for me I’m confused to say the least. I won’t deny that it feels good to hold him in my arms, to feel his body so close to mine. I could easily stay like this forever. I have always felt safe and loved when we hold each other. When he told me he was bi I remember thinking that it might change. I thought it would feel awkward and I was scared that he would misinterpret my affection. I’m not scared anymore. And I know that I never want to give up our physical contact. The only thing is that I feel so very insecure. I have no idea what’s going on. Friends aren’t supposed to hold each other like this. Not even best friends. We’re too close. It’s so wrong. But, why does it feel right? That’s what I don’t get.

“Mikey,” he breathes and I twitch at the sound of his voice. We have stayed quiet for so long that he surprises me by speaking.

“Yes,” I whisper even though I’m pretty sure he’s only saying my name just to say it. At first I think I’m imagining things when it feels like his lips touches mine but then I feel it again. He brushes his lips against mine ever so softly. An urgent need to kiss him bubbles up inside of me and it scares me. I don’t think I like whatever it is that’s going on. And above all I don’t understand it.

The memory of him kissing me earlier comes back to me. I liked it, didn’t I? Before that I freaked out over him touching me. Most of all I freaked out when he placed a kiss on my forehead. And now, now I want to kiss him? This can’t be happening. No, it isn’t happening. I don’t want to kiss him. Of course not! He’s my best friend for crying out loud. Best friends don’t kiss each other. So why did he kiss me? Now is not the time to ask. That is if I don’t want to upset him again. Maybe he just wanted me to get angry with him, as angry as he was with me. Or just ‘cause he wanted to mess with my head. If that was his intention he really succeeded, but if he tried to make me angry he failed miserably.

My mind sure is a huge mess right now. What is going on? And why the hell do I enjoy it?

He doses it again. Letting his lips touch mine. They are so incredibly soft and the touch is as light as a feather. It makes shills run down my spine.

Is it my heart that’s beating that madly or is it his? I can’t tell. It’s like we are as one and so help me God if I don’t want it to be just that way.

This is indeed very wrong and doing something that is wrong because it feels right will always be wrong, won’t it? If this is me trying to think rationally I must admit that I suck. Because no matter how much I tell myself that I don’t like what’s going on my heart keeps telling me I love it. No explanation is good enough; nothing can make me deny that this does feels good and that it does feel right. I want it. Whatever it is. I fucking need it. Oh God, I want Billie!

As I come to the horrible conclusion and as it slowly settle in my mind I notice that Billie Joe has moved his head to the left side of my neck just above my collarbone. His lips are brushing against my skin and it gives me goose bumps. Man, it feels good. I tilt my head to the right trying to expose more of my skin to his eager lips before I even think about it. Then he kisses my neck and I hear myself gasp. This time I know fore sure that it’s my heart that’s throbbing wildly. The kisses are so tender and soft and every single one of them draws a desperate whimper from my throat. My hands grab a hold of his shoulders hopelessly holding onto him, to reality, to sanity, to everything I ever thought I’ve known. But I’m failing. Everything simply slips away through my fingers. There go all my rational thoughts.

His kisses drown out everything except the desire that’s burning in the pit of my stomach. Every time his lips press against my skin yet another wave of pleasure runs through my body. I move one of my hands to the back of his head and tangle my fingers in his hair trying to make him understand that I need him to kiss me harder. As if he can read my mind he immediately does and my whimpers turn into moans. He’s sucking and nibbling as if his goal is to drive me crazy. Because that’s exactly what he’s doing. I groan loudly when he founds a more sensitive spot that he begins to work on. I let my other hand wander from his shoulder down his back. He trembles beneath my touch, which only causes me to moan even louder.

Billie bites down a little harder on the spot he has found right after I’d run my hand down his back. So I sneak my hand underneath his T-shirt and gently stroke his back with my fingertips just barley toughing his skin. Just as expected he shudders helplessly before he digs his teeth into my flesh once more biting me at that sweet spot.

“Billie,” I moan unable to control myself anymore. He stops the second it leaves my lips.

“Don’t stop,” I beg as I run my hand up and down his back. He shudders again but doesn’t continue. I open my eyes for the first time in a while and am met by his intense gaze. His beautiful eyes are like mesmerizing orbs of emerald dotted with gold and I can’t do anything but gazing into them. I completely lose myself in his lovely eyes. He looks surprised, relived and happy at the same tame. And I’ll be damned if it isn’t making him even more gorgeous.

“You-You moaned my name,” he says perplexed.

“No,” I reply immediately but he simply smiles lovingly at me.