To know you is to hate you.

We lay like that for a good two hours before I gently lifted and set him on his own bunk; I needed to pee like a drunkin race horse. He stirred and mumbled profanities as he curled into a small ball.

When I left the room I found Tre laying spread out on the sofa, one arm behind his head, the other draped over its side and a mug of something sitting on the coffee table. I said ‘good morning’ and he grunted in response.

I Stepped into the small bathroom and emptied my bladder. I checked my reflection only to find my hair was a mess and I looked exhausted; even more so than our damaged Billie Joe. It definitely wasn’t attractive. But I thought ‘The hell with it’ and went to join Tre in the living room.

“How’s Bill?” the drummer asked while I prepared the first coffee of the morning for myself.

“Sleeping. His heads a little painful but apart from that I think he’s fine.” I lied; lied through my own pearly choppers and God it almost killed me to do so.

“Adi called, I said that you should explain, but I made sure and mentioned that Billie wasn’t, you know, dead.”

I lifted my coffee over to the lodge and sat with my legs crossed. Adi’s number was dialled before I had even gotten comfortable.

“Mike!” she answered, “What’s wrong? What’s happened my Billie?”

“Adi, calm your chips. BJ is fine. He just got a little knock on the head and the doctor told him to rest.”

“Oh my God. Is he okay?”

“Yes, yes totally peachy. Trust me. He just needs to rest for a few days is all. He’ll call you once he wakes up but I think it’s better to let him get some rest.”

She reluctantly agreed after I reassured her that Billie Joe wasn’t ass over tits somewhere in ditch. I sighed, hung up the phone and lent back into the couch. Tre passed me a kit kat from his stash; He knew that chocolate was my only other weakness aside from Coffee.

“Thanks dude.” I bit into the delicious biscuit, “Women are neurotic.”

Tre scoffed, “You think she’s neurotic? Man, you pampered him yesterday like he was a bitch in labour.”

“He’s my best friend! What am I meant to do? Leave him to grovel in agony? I would do the same for you.”

Tre didn’t smiled and made a childish ‘awww’ face.

“I love you too man.”

I snatched the remote from the coffee table and switched the channel to something more appropriate than ‘Babestation’. I glanced out the window to see where we had stopped for the night. It turned out to be a rather nice view and I preferred gazing at it to the garbage on the television.

My mind did nothing but mull over our current situation; correction, my current situation. I knew Billie Joe wasn’t well but yet, I said nothing to anyone. Why? Why couldn’t I bring myself to say anything? There was an odd part of him that I hated, the part that called me a fag and shoved me away from him. But the part I had seen this morning, Twitch, made me feel so loved. It awoke feelings in me that I hadn’t felt for a long time. I wanted to go back in there and hold him, cuddle him; Kiss him. But fuck him? No. I couldn’t do that to Billie Joe’s subconscious no matter how much I wanted to.

Apart from Twitch and the nameless other, there was, of course, Billie Joe. Was he trapped inside his own head looking out? Or was he simply asleep while all this was going on? It certainly seemed to be the latter.

Personally, I couldn’t quite decide how I felt about all this.

“You think too much dude.” Tre piped.

“Hmm. What?” I replied.

“You’ve been starin out there for the last 30 minutes.”

I hadn’t realised that it had been that long. My coffee was cold and the rest of my chocolate had gone uneaten. I suddenly had no appetite for either of them.

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“You need to eat something BJ.”

Billie Joe was seated by the window where I had sat a mere hour ago. He watched intently as we moved along the highway and sipped at a large mug of tea. It was definitely Billie Joe. The way he sat and talked only portrayed this.

“I’m really not hungry Mike.” He replied, “I feel like I have been run over by a fuckin trunk.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with that big old bandage on your head?” Tre joked.

I placed a plate piled high with pancakes, toast and biscuits in the center of the coffee table.

“It’s there if you want it BJ. I’m not gonna treat you like a kid and feed ya.”

We sat talking and discussing garbage for a good hour. The plate was cleared by both me and Tre; Billie Joe didn’t take a bite. He range Adi and undated her on the fact he wasn’t dying and while he did that, Tre and I fled the scene to the small kitchen.

After a while he hung up and, taking his silence as a sign, we went into the living room to join him.

“Fuck sake.” He swore, “Why the hell are we on a fuckin bus anyway? Ain’t there no motel rooms?”

It was so out of nowhere that Tre and I could do nothing but stare blankly at the small man. I knew from the way that he spoke and sat that it wasn’t our Billie. He chewed his lip furiously, blood dribbling from the wound he had created. His glare was icy and maniacal.

“Who the fuck are you!?”He snapped and shot to his feet, “Why the hell am I on this fricken bus?!”

“Billie Joe, it us. Tre and Mike. Y’know?” Tre pleaded.

The drummer was scared. His voice was shaking, he glanced from me to Billie and moved closer to my body.

“I’m calling the cops!” the singer shouted.

“What? No! Billie Joe, we aren’t going to hurt –“

“Billie Joe? Who the fuck? You calling me a woman?” he spat it out as if he had just ingested poison, “ You,” He pointed at me, “ Fag! Calling me a woman?! Hummh. You’re one to talk!”

I blushed. From anger or embarrassment? I couldn’t tell.

“What does he mean? Mike? He’s fuckin delusional!” Tre took hold of my arm like a small child.

“Fuck you both!”

The small man had gotten my length before I had snapped out of my trance. I felt his fist smash hard into my jaw, I fell backwards and landed on my ass. Tre was still standing, having let go of my arm before I plummeted. ‘Billie’ stood above me, watching as I gripped hold of my throbbing cheek. His charmingly crooked teeth were bore in a sharp chilling grin.

“What the fuck are you doing? BJ?” Tre was knelling beside me and glaring up at my attacker.

“Fucking homo deserved it.”

“I’m not gay you fucking jerk off!” I was on my feet in seconds, my arms gripping the collar of Billie’s shirt and my face inches from him, “This isn’t you Billie!”

“No.” he chuckled, “I’m Fink. About fucking time that other faggot cleared off.”

“Get out of him!” I snarled, shaking him slightly.

“Oh you’d just love that, wouldn’t you? So you can fuck him senseless into the mattress.”

“We aren’t like that!”

He laughed, deep and mocking, before being his mouth to my ear.

“I know you get hard just looking at him. You wanna move to his rhythm and bury yourself balls deep into his sweet ass. You wanna hear him scream your name, see him tangled in the sheets below you covered in a sheet of cum and sweat.”

I threw him from me. He landed with a crash to the floor and gripped hold of his skull.

“Jesus! Mike. What the fuck are you doing man?” he asked.

It was Billie again. I could tell from the pleading look in his soft green eyes; even the way he struggled to his feet. But I was too angry to care.

Tre put a hand on my shoulder.

“You say nothing.” I whispered harshly to the drummer, “Don’t breathe a word. We’ll discuss this later.”

Tre agreed.

“I’m going to bed.” I snarled directly at Billie Joe.

He watched me, completely confused and, from what I can guess, hurt, as I stormed from the room and into the small bunk area.
Billie was pleading with Tre in the living room but he cleverly avoided the subject. I switched on the radio, lay back on my bunk and spent the rest of the evening with my own thoughts.