You Just Never Know

I wonder what he’s thinking. I always do when he zone out like that. When he gets lost inside himself. Lost in anger.

Most of the time I assume he reflect upon the death of his dad. This time however I’m pretty sure that Billie is upset about something else. And I have that terrible feeling that it has something to do with me. It’s like an itch that’s just out of reach, the kind that almost drives you crazy. That’s what it feels like. Combined with an ounce of nausea. Quite a wonderful mix actually. I think I’m gonna be sick.

Billie Joe starts pacing back and forth through the room. As he does so I curl up on the bed, pulling my knees to my chin wishing I could take back that stupid question. Why did I have to go upset him again? Everything was fine.

Who am I trying to fool? Nothing’s fine. Well, nothing was fine. Things were a mess. We were a mess. Are a mess. Always has been.

I sigh to myself trying not to think about anything in particular; it hurts my head too much. Instead I follow Billie Joe with my gaze as he moves restlessly across the bedroom until he comes to a sudden halt.

I feel my heart skipping a beat which causes a wave of sudden pain to shoot through my chest. Then it gets just a bit harder to breathe. And I realize I’m scared.

He turns towards me, rage flickering in his eyes. When he looks at me like that I feel my muscles tensing up automatically, preparing for him to take out his frustration on me. I think I might am getting too used dealing with any kind of emotion that my friend can’t handle by himself. I’m getting too used being a punching bag. The thing is; I don’t mind. As long as it’s helping Billie Joe I couldn’t care less about myself.

“Mike,” he suddenly says in-between heavy breaths.

I jump at the sound and have to shift around a bit before I reply.

“Y-yeah?” I finally say, my voice trembling somewhat but I try my best to look him steadily in the eye.

“I-,” he begins but snaps his mouth shut, probably because he is on the verge of yelling.

I wait patiently for him to carry on and meanwhile I try to calm down. I think I’m actually managing to relax somewhat. Finally some progress. I can’t be afraid of my best friend like this, it’s so stupid. I have to toughen up. He needs someone to depend on. Not a wimp.

“Mikey I,” he begins again and I can hear the restraint anger in his voice. “I’m pretty much like a-a glass figure.”

He stutters not because of nervousness but because he tries his best not to loose his temper. I can tell because I know him.

“I break easily. Fall to pieces. Over, over nothing,” Billie continues. “But I can be patched together again and again. No by myself but w-with some help.”

“My help,” I ask hesitatingly.

He simply nods.

“Yeah,” Billie Joe confirms. “So you see, I’m b-broken in a way but at the same time I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

He ends the sentence sounding a little bit less worked up which makes me loosen up a bit. I’m not able to fully relax though since I know his mood can switch in a second. And I dread that I’m about to cause exactly that.

“But what if I’m the one who tear you apart?” I ask in what’s barely more than a whisper finally getting at what I wanted to talk about. This time I manage to keep my voice from shaking though.

***

I glare at him.

“Well, Mikey,”I think to myself, “The heartache would almost be unbearable. I would be terrified that I’d have to mend myself when I never learned how. I wouldn’t know where to turn. And how could I ever feel safe again? And if you asked for my forgiveness I would give it to you without a moment’s hesitation. I’d let you sooth me even though your very presence would be a reminder of the pain you put me through. But I’d have to let you glue the fragments of me back together no matter how much agony the process would put me - us - through. Because I can’t survive without you. Because no matter what you do I love you.

I make a growling noise whishing I could say out loud what I was thinking. But I can’t. And it sucks. I fucking hate this. I want to talk to him like I used to. No secrets.

Why is everything so damn complicated?

Mike is expecting an answer. If I don’t give him one soon he’ll suspect that I’m going to lie. Sometimes I hate that he knows me so well.

“I don’t know,” I ultimately mutter since I have no idea what to tell him.

“What would you do?” he goes on as if he doesn’t understand how unwilling I am to having this conversation.

“I don’t know,” I repeat, biting my teeth together.

“Would you forgive me just to let me help?” Mike persists and he has that stubborn gleam in his eyes. I hate that too. “Or hate me because being around me would hurt too much?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” I hiss at him while clenching my shaking hands. I swear, on more question and I’m going to seriously beat him up.

“Could you stand to both hate and love me?” Mike asks heatedly, his eyes burning with intensity.

“It would fuckin’ kill me slowly,” I say through my gritted teeth. The anger is right beneath my skin now. It feels like it will break free at any second. And when it does it will lash out at my Mikey. Whether I want it to or not. I’ll admit though. I kind of want it. Kind of really badly. It’s only fair that I get to harm him when he hurt me.

“I’ve noticed that,” he mumbles, letting his exhausted gaze drop to the floor. I know it’s because he can’t bear to look at m when I’m furious with him. And because he needs to collect whatever strength he has left to get through this.

Within seconds I throw myself over him.

***

Billie Joe leaps on me and I don’t even bother to do anything about it. I actually deserve it. I had it coming.

He’s all fists and curses as we tumble around on his bed and I barely even defend myself. So he hits me wherever he can reach. And it hurts. Not an awful lot but bad enough. He punches pretty hard for being so tiny.

As he tries to pin me down I give him a push that sends him tumbling to the floor. Within a second of doing so I get on my feet just to get attacked instantly. He throws a punch at my face. My lip bursts and the metallic taste of blood ruches through my senses together with a flash of pain. I try to wipe my mouth not thinking about how I’m letting my guard down which earn me another blow. This time he hits my eye and I’m sure it will get swollen and bruised.

I start to back away from him but he comes after me mercilessly, beating me uncontrollably. But I’ve had it.

“Enough,” I grunt as I grab his wrists. He stares wildly at me and struggles to get free. Man, he’s a handful. I don’t know for how long I can hold him. But I can’t let him go; if I do I’m screwed.

Billie Joe begins kicking my legs and I yelp in agony.

“Cut it out!” I cry angrily.

“Fuck you,” he groans in reply.

"What do I do? Think Mike, think! There’s gotta be something. I think I know! He’s gonna get pissed but it is probably my only chance of getting out of this alive."

Still with my hands firmly around my friend’s wrists I twirl him around and hold him close to me.

“Let go of me!” he yells furiously. Like I know he would. But I won’t obey. He needs to calm down, for both our sake.

“Come on, Billie,” I say almost pleadingly. “Settle, man!”

Amazingly enough he stops squirming and suddenly he almost goes limp. He seems completely worn out. I actually have to support him so he won’t fall to the floor. He lets his head fall back onto my shoulder, closing his eyes.

“Mikey,” he whispers.

“Hum?” I respond while positioning my head so it rests cheek to cheek with his.

“I think we’re bad for each other,” he murmurs and he is absolutely right, we have an unhealthy friendship.

“I know, we’re a mess,” I sigh.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t stand to be without you,” Billie Joe say in a low voice.

I smile.