Maybe it's just jealousy?

When Tre Cool first started as the drummer for Green Day, Billie Joe couldn’t help be jealous of the man. There was no doubt that Mike really liked the guy. He has insisted that he was the best drummer for the job and furthermore, ever since Billie had reluctantly said ‘Yes’ to allowing him to join, Mike had been spending damn near every day with him. Him and not Billie Joe.

It was stupid, and Billie knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel second best. He and Mike had been friends since they were ten but as soon as some…floozy with a drum set comes along, Mike is worshipping him like a god. Almost nine years of being partners in crime and now he was getting in the way of it.
Mike and Billie Joe were living in a small apartment at this time, with two rooms and a bathroom. The shared the bedroom, a single mattress at either side of the room, a small table in the center and posters all over the walls. Their clothes all hung in the one wardrobe in the living room, where there was also one brown and weathered couch, a small black and white television and a coffee table. The kitchen had seen better days. The fridge worked, thankfully, the sink was a bitch for backing up, the stove was a hazard and the microwave had its days. The small bathroom was the smallest of the rooms. It contained a toilet, a cream sink and a shower and bath combo. The window was simple and small, allowing minimum light in. The place was a hole; but a comfy hole at that.

Tre was always there though. He was always hanging out with Mike, drinking their beer, smoking their weed and watching their television. Billie sat with them, trying to convince himself that he was wanted; but, often, he just didn’t feel it.

It had been going on for months and Billie, being the neurotic guy that he is, took it to heart. As the days passed he felt more and more abandoned by his best friend. He felt stupid for feeling so hurt, for letting Mike get to him like that. None of it was doing anything for Billie Joe’s poor confidence.

Needless to say Billie’s self esteem was wearing thin with every day that passed. He couldn’t quite figure out what he had done to push Mike away like that. Was it him? Was he a bad person? Why did seeing Mike hang out with Tre hurt him so much?

Every night he lay on his mattress, Mike no more than a few feet away, and mulled over the whys and how’s. It resulted in many a night of silent tears and less sleep than he cared to admit.

**************

“You look awful BJ.” Mike said.

Billie was huddled into a ball on the couch watching cartoons. Mike set down a mug of strong coffee on the table in front of the boy and then sat on a pillow by the end of said table. Billie simply glanced over at him when he spoke and nodded.

“Dude, seriously, are you okay?” he pressed.

“Yes.” Billie Joe muttered, keeping his eyes on the black and white characters.

“You’re a bad liar BJ.”

“I’m fuckin fine! Okay!” Billie pulled himself into a sitting position and drew his knees to his chest, “Just drop it okay.”

Mike made a low whistle.

“Time of the mouth much?” He joked.

Billie Joe gnawed on his lower lip. His tempter was wearing thin and he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

“If you’re snappy and not sleepin’ , don’t take it out on me, man.” Mike continued.

That was it. Billie bounced to his feet, throwing his arm out and knocking the coffee flying in the process.
“Fuck you Mike!”

The bassist watched as his best friend strode from the living area and slammed the door of the bathroom. Moments later he heard the rushing water of the shower.

Mike didn’t go after him. He knew when to leave the singer alone. But, for once, he had no idea what Billie was acting this way to begin with. Usually Billie told him everything. When he couldn’t sleep, he would get Mike up to share in his pity or Mike would make up some hot chocolate for them both. Lately, Billie Joe had been keeping his distance. They spoke less and things seemed to have an awkward film around them. It hurt Mike to see his friend like this but it hurt more to think that it was his fault.

*********

The water soothed Billie’s anger as it coursed over his naked skin. But it couldn’t wash away the pain of Mike’s rejection. He allowed himself to cry freely. Unable to hold himself up any longer, he sat on the floor of the bath and tucked his knees up to his chin. Here, behind the locked door, he was safe from the dismissal he saw in his friend’s eyes; in here nothing could dismiss him.

Except himself.

He longed to rid himself of this feeling and to just enjoy doing what he loves most. He wanted to drown himself in the music, stand in front of a crowd and sing until his throat ached. Billie Joe would do anything to have those days back; the days when he didn’t care.

“I should never have let him in.” he whimpered, “I should never have let him get so close.”

He cursed himself over and over.

“Fuck you!” Billie Joe slammed his fists against the fragile tiles on the wall.

It throbbed but he continued it over and over until fragments of clay came loose. Blood, from where the tiles had cut his fist, mixed with the water and ran down the drain in a flood of pink.

Billie Joe gently opened his clenched hands and studied the spider web of open wounds; some were deeper than others. They stung and his knuckles ached but he embraced it. He didn’t know why but it felt good.

“BJ?!” Mike’s voice rang from the other side of the door.

The handle was rattled and the wood pounded.

“Billie Joe!? Are you okay!?” He screamed urgently.

The singer didn’t answer. He tried to say something but couldn’t seem to find the words. Was he okay?

“I’m gonna break the fucker down if you don’t answer me!”

Billie Joe lay back in the tub, let his right arm dangle over the edge and raised his face to the spray of water. Let Mike try. Let him worry.

“That’s it!”

Mike began to kick at the door with the flat of his boot. Billie watched idly from the rub. He honestly didn’t care if Mike succeeded in kicking the door down or not. What was there for him to see anyway? Some blood, swollen knuckles, smashed tiles and a very naked and wet Billie Joe. The singer didn’t give a damn.
With one last curse Mike sent the door flying inwards. It narrowly missed the toilet and towel rack. He staggered over the fallen barrier and knelt by the side of the bath.

“W-what the fuck?” he gently took hold on Billie’s Wrist only for it to be pulled from him, “BJ? What the hell have you been doin’ to yourself?”

“What do you care?” Billie spat.

“I care a hell of a lot! Now tell me what in the name of fuck is goin’ on inside that head of yours!”

“Why should I Mike!? What business is it of yours what I do to myself or why?!”

“You’re fuckin’ insane BJ.” Mike ignored Billie Joe’s questions and reached over to turn off the running water, “Christ! Look at your hands.” He mumbled.

“Get off me.” Billie Joe pulled away from his touch.

“I’m tryin’ to fuckin help you asshole!”

“Just – Just get out and leave me alone! Fuck off to Tre’s o-or something.”

“Tre? What does he have to do with this?”

“Did I mention him? I’m just telling you to fuckin get out of my face.”

Mike rose to his feet and gazed, disgusted, down at Billie Joe. The singer met his sapphire eyes for only a moment before he found that he couldn’t bare the anger behind them. Without another word, Mike strode from the bathroom and let the apartment. The front door was slammed hard behind him.

*********

Within the hour Billie was sitting with his legs folded, a tub of ice cream in his lap and a blanket around his shoulders watching a black and white ‘Ghost’. He had his fists roughly bandaged and he had been rudely awakened to the fact that the knuckles on his left hand were broken, or close to it. The wounds were making a good job of bleeding through the bandages. But least did Billie care.
He was angrily forcing the spoon into the still frozen treat and jabbing it until it came loose. It hurt, yes, but he was too peeved by his best friend’s betrayal. He had walked out when the singer had clearly needed him.

He may have smashed his hands to shit for Mike’s attention, and he has no problem with admitting that to himself, but instead of sticking by him Mike had left. It was clear that the bassist had made his choice.

As the movie moved on Billie felt guilt rise in his chest and tears invading his emerald eyes. It wasn’t the movie, far from it; it was his sudden realisation of how he had acted. Childishly and selfishly; not even giving Mike time to explain. He had assumed that Mike had a crush on the man, that they were fucking or kissing in the corners; but where was the evidence? There was none. Not really.

He knew all this and yet he still wanted to blame Mike. It was a confusing mix of emotions, something like a teenager would feel and yet he was no longer a teenager. He was a young man. He should know better than to be so selfish and so spoiled.

Suddenly his ice cream seemed less appealing. Everything felt so messed up, so cold and uninviting. Never before had he felt so hurt by his own actions towards someone else; especially someone he loved. And what if he had driven the man away completely? Then what? He would have lost Green Day, lost his flat mate and lost his best friend. No, not best friend; His love.

He placed the cookie dough ice cream onto the coffee table and brought his knees to his chin. The blanket was pulled tighter around his shoulders, his head rested back against the couch and he allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. He bit his lip as his breath began to emerge in pained gasps.

What had he done?