Maybe tomorrow I'll feel a speck worthwhile

Weeks passed.
Tours were planned.
Red marks on my skin became more and more on my pale, dry skin.

They were mostly on my leg, but the scar on my wrist that slowly healed, the one that almost glowed between the ink on my arms, will probably be there forever.
Not as noticeable that it is right now, but the skin will always be bumpy.

And every time the small, thin weapon made my skin open up, it makes me hate myself for acting like a complete idiot.
But when he finally was quiet for a while, it was almost worth it.

I looked out from the car window through my sunglasses.
The guys were laughing, about something, who the fuck cares?
I tightened my grip around the plastic mug of coffee that were placed in my hands, the warm liquid slowly warming up my cold hands.

We were on our way to make our new music video.
The guys were excited.
The fans were excited.
And I have to admit, even I got t hat tingling, “oh my God, here we fucking go”-feeling that I always get when we're doing new things or even playing a show.

A smile escaped from my lips.
And when I met Mike's gaze, he was smiling too.

I heard my own voice through the speakers.
The people around me, watching me with my guitar as I sang along with the song, watching me act – all this made me realize how fucking much I've missed all this.

Seeing Tré act like an idiot behind the drums.
Watching everything we just recorded on a camera screen.
Knowing this is one step closer to our album release.

And for the first time in months, he was quiet without making me hurt.
I could even eat a baguette with butter and cheese.
On white bread.

That place was on fire. I've been hiding my freezing body under layer of clothes for a while, but a few hours with acting and fake guitar playing made me hot as a chicken in a frying pan.

I looked around before quickly taking off my stage outfit.
I reached for my t-shirts and put one on, two, three.
That will do.

I pulled my jeans and hoodie on and turned around.

I don't think I've ever seen that look on anyone. Ever, ever.
It made my whole body freeze.
Fuckity fuck fuck.
“How long have you been here?”

“Beej...” Mike took a step towards me. “Fuck, Beej.”

A piece of me wanted to break down and cry, wanted to have Mikes arms around me.
Another piece, him, wanted me to reveal hate.
He won.

“Are you fucking spying on me? Why didn't you say anything?”
“How should I know that you were in here?!” Mike yelled, why does his voice sound so panicked?, and suddenly he was close to me.
“Beej, please...how...” he swallowed, putting his hands on my hips and don't let him touch you.
I took a few steps back.

“How did you get that skinny? Are you on drugs?”

I almost laughed.
He's my childhood friend, why can't he see it, why the fuck won't he see it?!

“You know what, Mike? Fuck you. Just... fuck you. You can't just come here and...-”
“Beej, please...”
“...pretend that you fucking care! Y-you can go fuck your damn w-wife. I don't e-even care.”
Mike looked terrified. “Billie, let me...”
“I won't let you do anything! You...You've done enough. No, y-you haven't done...you haven't done fucking anything, Mike! Not a fucking thing and now it's too fucking late!”

I backed away a few steps more from him, tears streaming down my face. “Look at me!”

“Maybe I'm on drugs. Why would you care?”
I tried to get pass him and lock myself in the bathroom, but he grabbed me before I could reach the door.

“Let me go!”
“No.” He pressed me against his chest.
“Stop touching me! Let me go! I hate you, I fucking hate you!”
I let my teeth sink in the soft flesh in his arm, biting down hard.
I could hear him hiss in pain, but he didn't let me go.
He just grabbed my hair and pulled my head up and forced me to look into his eyes.

“I won't let you go, Billie Joe.”

I snapped.
And the tears streamed down my face while I let my body relax in his strong arms.

“Please help me”, I whispered.
In the corner of my eyes, I could see him mouth the word “how?”