You Just Never Know

I keep my eyes closed for just a while longer in attempt to drag out this stolen moment. Gradually Mike begins releasing me though and moves away inch by inch. I sigh as I open my eyes knowing that our few minutes together are spent. Then I look at him. And fuck, did I do that? When I go into rage I don’t really think and I’m not fully aware of what I do. I knew I hit him but the sight of his busted lip and black eye is still a bit of a shock.

“Sorry about that, man.” The nod towards his face confuses him at first.

“Oh, that.” He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh, want some ice? I could go, um, get you some. If you want.” Niiice ramble Armstrong. I’m such a moron.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Is that the best thing I can come up with?

“Okay.”

“So.” I breathe out the word slowly.

“So,” Mikey repeats with a little smile.

“TV?” The mental slap I gave myself after that should have knocked me to the floor. But it didn’t.

“Sure.”

How can he be so forgiving? After being a living punishing bag he accepts apologize not worth the name just like that. As if my suggestion about staring at the tube for a while was enough to redeem what I did minutes ago.

Slowly we walk towards the living room hoping that the tube won’t be occupied by any of my older sibling. Luckily it isn’t. No one seems to be home actually. Well, that’s not too big of a surprise; it’s summer after all and this day is actually bearably warm.

Mike gets bored pretty quickly because there isn’t really anything to watch. I get stuck on some cartoon show that’s kinda amusing. But he seems fed up already. Strange. Usually he likes watching cartoons as much as I do. Guess he still is bothered by what has happened today. Even though he tries to pretend that it’s nothing. It’s not nothing Mikey, can’t you see that? Ah, fuck it.

Sulkily I turn my attention to the TV once more afraid that he will catch me looking at him.

“Why can’t everything just go back to normal? Why can’t I be normal? Will I loose my best friend now? Stop. Don’t think about it. Wait and see how things unfold. Juts wait and see. Just fucking let it be, you idiot.”

***

I tried to pay attention to the flickering screen but my mind would dart around among my thoughts and shatter my concentration. I can’t focus anymore. I can’t just be fine with everything like Billie and laugh at some silly toon on TV.

My bored, roving eyes get caught by two-three magazines lying scattered on the floor by the couch. Getting up to get a closer look I realize it’s those kinds of girl magazines about trends and makeup. Probably left on the floor by Holly, one of Billie’s sisters. Not that it matters.

Before I really know what I’m doing I have picked one up. Who knows, it might not be as boring as I’ve always imagined? I slump down on the floor and flip the magazine open on a random page.

Okay, so it’s not as bad as I expected but it’s not really entertaining either.

“Boring, boring, slightly funny, boring, haha, boring. Why do I even keep reading this? Wait a second, that girl has nice jugs. Superficial, yeah, I know. But she does. And killer legs too. Hum, I wonder.”

Questions start taking shape in my mind as I examine the picture.

“I know if a girl is hot.” I think to myself. “Kinda obvious since I’m a guy, I guess. But if I were gay I wouldn’t really notice that, would I? I mean, I would see if she was ugly or not but it wouldn’t really matter and all, right?”

Caught in a debate with myself I turn the pages in hunt for a photo of a guy.

“Ah, there! Found one.”

I stare at the two-dimensional man on the page. I turn the mag a bit to the left. Then to the right.

“He looks, eh. Well, he has-. Geeze, I really don’t know. What am I supposed to like anyway?”

A few more seconds pass with me observing the picture closely. It gets me nowhere so I give up and turn the page. Another girl smiles up at me from it. She has a really nice smile.

“That struck me right away.” I mutter in my head. “Why do things like that only pop up when I look at a girl?”

The moment the thought ends my head moves to the left and my gaze fall on Billie Joe’s face. He’s laughing. And I’m lying to myself.

I sigh and get up.

“Are you going somewhere?” Billie Joe asks me. His laugh has waned into a smile but his eyes still twinkle brightly. I look at his smile.

“Beautiful.”

“No, but my ass hurts. The floors not exactly soft, you know,” I say casually. He chuckles.

“You’re eyes are so pretty when you laugh, Billie.”

The mag is still in my hand. I open it again and find another photo of some guy. But nothing comes to mind. Then I glance at Billie Joe who has tilted his head slightly to the left, peering questioning at me. And I admit to myself that pretty smiles don’t only appear in my mind when I look at girls.

“What makes him so different form other guys? Why is he special? Why am I aware of just how stunning those green shade orbs of his are? And of how nice-looking his lips are, especially when he smiles. And how can it matter how attractive he is? It can’t. It shouldn’t. It doesn’t in any other case. No other guy would catch my eye. So am I really straight? Looking through the magazine tells me I am. But staring at him. I don’t know. Is it possible to like someone for their personality and the person just happens to be of the same sex as you? Or does that automatically make you queer?”

“Mike, hello?”

His voice rips me out of my thoughts and I blink dumbly.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for fuckin’ ever man,” he snickers.

A crimson tone probably adorns my cheeks now. He always manages to paint it on my face as much as I try to not let him.

“Thinking something inappropriately where you?” Billie asks, probably with my burning cheeks in mind.

“No.”

He so fast that I don’t react until he is on the other side of the couch, using it as a shield, holing the magazine in his hands.

“Let’s see what you were drooling over!” he smirks and reopens it on the page I had left it on. The smile fades as he realizes what page I had been stuck on. His eyes leave the mag and rise to meet mine. There’s disbelief in them and he even frowns.

For some reason I feel guilty. I don’t know why because there isn’t anything to feel guilty about but that changes nothing. I let my gaze drop to the floor, unable to meet his any longer.

“Mike,” he begins. I can’t look at him again. “Mike, what-.”

He stops. His fists clenches a little around the paper in his hands, scrunching it up slightly.

“I thought,” he murmurs trough gritted teeth. “I thought you didn’t-.”

“I don’t!” I interrupt. He just glares at me.

“I’ve been watching you, Michael.”

He never uses my real name. Ever.

“You’ve been starin’ at this page for I don’t know how fuckin’ long! Why the fuck would you do that? Huh, Michael? Why!” he yells.

“Because you’re messin’ with my head!” I scream at him then snap my moth shut in horror hardly believing that I just said that aloud. I feel sick again.

The only sound is the rustling from paper pages moving as the magazine falls out of his hands and the muffled thump it makes as it hits the floor.