Heartache Every Moment
Heartache Every Moment
He was standing beside a wall of his house, not leaning into it, just standing beside it, he was too nervous to do so, to relax. His hands were shaking to the point where he almost dropped the burning cigarette he was holding to the ground. Any minute now, he would receive a call - from where, he didn't know - all he knew was that he would get a call from his band mate slash best friend slash boyfriend. Any minute.
His hands slowly brought the half burnt cigarette onto his trembling lips as he waited. Waited to hear - and most likely also see - what it was going to be this time that his friend was doing. Drugs? Or perhaps he was just getting drunk in some bar? His thoughts drifted - against his own will - to the previous nights like these. Billie Joe - his boyfriend - didn't really care if it was Saturday, Monday or Wednesday; he went out to get himself drunk and high on God knows what whenever he wanted or felt like it.
The ringing of his cell phone breaking the eerie silence startled him and the cigarette slipped from between his fingers and fell to the ground. He cursed under his breath and quickly stumped it to the brown, dead grass - which kind of reminded him of his relationship at the moment - before taking the noisy phone out of his jeans' pocket.
"Mike." He answered quickly, his voice hoarse from the anticipation and sleepiness - considering it was a few minutes past midnight.
"It's m-me."
Mike swallowed and closed his eyes as he heard Billie's intoxicated and slightly tear-filled voice from the other end of the phone. He hated this. Why was it always him who had to be the one to save Billie from himself? Mike loved him, that's why. He cared too damn much to abandon him. I mean, Hell, they'd met when they were 10 years old. You just simply can't leave the other after that long time; especially not after a couple of hardships. Because, well, Billie would eventually have to get over this... phase, if you want to call it that. Right? It had hit him pretty hard when Adie left him after finding out about his relationship with Mike but he couldn't be like that for the rest of his life. At least, that was what Mike hoped for.
"Where are you?" He asked in almost a whisper, swallowing and kind of hoping to get the lump of regret to vanish with it in his throat; the regret of ever meeting Billie, of ever getting himself involved into this mess. It was a horrible thing to say - or to even think of - but at times like these, he wished he had never met Billie. He didn't really mean it, of course, but sometimes he just couldn't help thinking about it. What would life had been like?
"I- I dunno..." came the slightly panicked answer. Mike sighed at this, half annoyed and half worried.
”Okay. Do... do you see anything I could recognize to come and get you?” Mike asked, biting his quivering bottom lip nervously.
”W-wait.” He heard some shuffling around and drunken groans from Billie's side. ”Um... there – there's this big tree... and a long bridge near the bar.” Mike bit onto his lip hard in shock after he heard the word 'bridge'. Maybe it was unnecessary for him to freak out about that but you never knew about Billie and what he would do when he was drunk. And since the last time Billie had been like this, he'd talked about death and afterlife and whatnot... It scared Mike sometimes.
”Okay. I... I think I know where that is. Just... stay where you are and don't – don't do anything stupid. Just wait for me, 'kay? I'll be there in a minute.” He started walking to his car as he waited Billie to reply, to reassure him that he wouldn't do anything to himself – anything more, that is.
”... Okay.” There was silence between them for a minute as Mike was too afraid to hung up first. ”Mike?”
”Yeah?”
”I'm scared.”
”I know.”
Me too, Billie. Me too.
+++
Mike pulled up in front of a bar he presumed Billie was in and started to search around for the said person, letting his eyes scan the outside carefully. It was safe to say that he was nervous and slightly afraid of in what condition his friend would be. Maybe slumped in a corner of some alley behind the bar, hair shagging in his green eyes which had seemed to have lost their spark a long time ago and – especially on these nights – red circles around them from the drugs. Or maybe he would be inside the bar, in the so called bathroom – which in Mike's opinion could have been the best place to catch a deadly disease by just touching something -, puking his guts out.
He often asked himself why he still loved Billie – how could he still have any ounce of respect left for his best friend – but on the days when his friend was sober – on the rare but good days – all this seemed to be forgotten and it actually felt like Mike had a real boyfriend and a successful, stable relationship and not a dead-inside wreck and what seemed like the most fucked up affair in the world. And those days were worth waiting for – it was worth all this shit he had to go through to keep his relationship alive; it was all worth it if he got to see Billie genuinely smile, to talk to him and to be like a normal couple with him. And to actually have fun; hang out.
Yeah, maybe Mike could have gotten all that from someone else – but without the drinking and drugs – but oddly enough, he didn't want anyone else. Maybe that sounds like one of the hugest cliches in the world but it was true. Mike felt like it was his responsibility to take care of Billie and to love him; even if no one else did, even if everyone else had already lost all respect for him. Mike believed Billie still had some of that spark of his inside and that it was just a matter of time before they could be happy again. It might have been foolish of him but he needed it; needed some kind of reminder to keep on believing on his best friend, no matter what.
Mike quickly paced around the outside of the bar, checking alleyways for a sign of Billie. And he did find him, sooner than expected. He was alone, - thank God - sitting in a corner of an alleyway, hugging his knees tightly and looking very unstable and scared. Mike quickly jogged over to him and knelt down next to his shivering form. Billie looked up at him, red circles around his dull eyes, his face flushed – obviously from crying – and his hair a mess, the sweaty locks falling over his eyes. There was also a broken bottle of hard liquid next to him on the ground.
Mike hesitated but hugged Billie, cautiously at first, smelling the alcohol from his friend which made his insides feel even worse. He wanted to cry – just burst out crying and bawl his eyes out – but he couldn't, he wouldn't. Not here. Not in front of Billie. He was at least going to try to be the strong one.
Billie clung to him as soon as he had his arms around his taller frame. Mike almost fell on top of him, surprised at his friend's reaction.
”I'm sorry, Mike, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Billie kept whispering those words desperately into Mike's ear, a strangled sob occasionally escaping his lips.
Mike took in a deep breath, ”I know, Bill.”
Mike led his friend to the bathroom of his house. Billie's feet were wobbling every now and then, making it extremely hard for him to stand up straight, let alone walk which in turn made Mike's job a lot more difficult. He sat Billie on top of the toilet lid and after filling the bathtub, he peeled his friend's clothes off of his foul body. He then helped Billie step into the warm water and started helping him in getting himself clean of the reek of hard liquor and cigarettes.
”I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry...” Billie continued repeating his mantra over and over again, pleading for Mike's forgiveness – yet again –, his hoarse, slurred voice seeming to echo from the walls of the otherwise silent room.
”Shut up, Billie. It's okay”, Mike whispered, a hint of bitter annoyance in his tone. However, Billie decided to ignore his friend's words, so Mike told him again, this time raising his voice slightly.
”Please, don't hate me Mike. You know I love you, I'd do anything for you, I would. I'm sorry, you have to be- ,” he hiccuped, ”believe me. Please? I'm sorry, I'm--” he rambled on, not taking any notice whatsoever to the way Mike's palms were tightening their grip on his shoulder threateningly.
”Fucking shut up!” SLAP.
No, no, no...
Mike let his hand drop down slowly and turned his head away from Billie's now tear-filled orbs, letting his exhausted body slump down to the cold floor. He buried his head into his hands, as if not wanting Billie to see him as he broke down crying, - and who could have honestly blamed him – he couldn't keep it in anymore. No matter how hard he had tried, how much he'd prayed and wanted to be the strong one, he couldn't. The sobs were racking his body rabidly and the whimpering sounds were escaping past his thin, pallid lips every now and then.
And all the while when Mike was sucked into his own world of tears, desperation, regret, frustration and every other goddamn emotion, Billie was watching his smaller, shaking figure intently, the tiny voice inside of his intoxicated mind telling him to go over to his friend, hug him – never minding the circumstances – and tell him he was going to get all sober for him. But no matter how much Billie wanted to do all those things, he simply couldn't. He was afraid he'd have to lie to Mike and Billie was a bad liar anyway, so he thought it would be best to just sit there silently, continuing to watch and wait for his best friend's river of tears to run dry.
+++
Mike was lying in bed, next to the already asleep Billie. He was watching him and stroking his still wet hair softly, thinking; thinking about leaving Billie, about how much he really did want to be the savior of the man next to him. Did he want to be his guardian angel, the one to take care of him? Was that what Mike really wanted? Because he didn't know. Not anymore. Maybe they were meant to break up, to live their lives as merely friends.
He kissed the top of Billie's head and watched, smiling as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, his mouth open agape. Billie's toned, tattooed arms wrapped themselves around Mike's slightly thinner frame and suddenly he didn't feel that hopeless anymore as the safety of Billie's warm body was embracing him. Maybe Mike still had faith in this relationship, maybe they could make it work. He was willing to give Billie the one last chance.
Yet again.
His hands slowly brought the half burnt cigarette onto his trembling lips as he waited. Waited to hear - and most likely also see - what it was going to be this time that his friend was doing. Drugs? Or perhaps he was just getting drunk in some bar? His thoughts drifted - against his own will - to the previous nights like these. Billie Joe - his boyfriend - didn't really care if it was Saturday, Monday or Wednesday; he went out to get himself drunk and high on God knows what whenever he wanted or felt like it.
The ringing of his cell phone breaking the eerie silence startled him and the cigarette slipped from between his fingers and fell to the ground. He cursed under his breath and quickly stumped it to the brown, dead grass - which kind of reminded him of his relationship at the moment - before taking the noisy phone out of his jeans' pocket.
"Mike." He answered quickly, his voice hoarse from the anticipation and sleepiness - considering it was a few minutes past midnight.
"It's m-me."
Mike swallowed and closed his eyes as he heard Billie's intoxicated and slightly tear-filled voice from the other end of the phone. He hated this. Why was it always him who had to be the one to save Billie from himself? Mike loved him, that's why. He cared too damn much to abandon him. I mean, Hell, they'd met when they were 10 years old. You just simply can't leave the other after that long time; especially not after a couple of hardships. Because, well, Billie would eventually have to get over this... phase, if you want to call it that. Right? It had hit him pretty hard when Adie left him after finding out about his relationship with Mike but he couldn't be like that for the rest of his life. At least, that was what Mike hoped for.
"Where are you?" He asked in almost a whisper, swallowing and kind of hoping to get the lump of regret to vanish with it in his throat; the regret of ever meeting Billie, of ever getting himself involved into this mess. It was a horrible thing to say - or to even think of - but at times like these, he wished he had never met Billie. He didn't really mean it, of course, but sometimes he just couldn't help thinking about it. What would life had been like?
"I- I dunno..." came the slightly panicked answer. Mike sighed at this, half annoyed and half worried.
”Okay. Do... do you see anything I could recognize to come and get you?” Mike asked, biting his quivering bottom lip nervously.
”W-wait.” He heard some shuffling around and drunken groans from Billie's side. ”Um... there – there's this big tree... and a long bridge near the bar.” Mike bit onto his lip hard in shock after he heard the word 'bridge'. Maybe it was unnecessary for him to freak out about that but you never knew about Billie and what he would do when he was drunk. And since the last time Billie had been like this, he'd talked about death and afterlife and whatnot... It scared Mike sometimes.
”Okay. I... I think I know where that is. Just... stay where you are and don't – don't do anything stupid. Just wait for me, 'kay? I'll be there in a minute.” He started walking to his car as he waited Billie to reply, to reassure him that he wouldn't do anything to himself – anything more, that is.
”... Okay.” There was silence between them for a minute as Mike was too afraid to hung up first. ”Mike?”
”Yeah?”
”I'm scared.”
”I know.”
Me too, Billie. Me too.
+++
Mike pulled up in front of a bar he presumed Billie was in and started to search around for the said person, letting his eyes scan the outside carefully. It was safe to say that he was nervous and slightly afraid of in what condition his friend would be. Maybe slumped in a corner of some alley behind the bar, hair shagging in his green eyes which had seemed to have lost their spark a long time ago and – especially on these nights – red circles around them from the drugs. Or maybe he would be inside the bar, in the so called bathroom – which in Mike's opinion could have been the best place to catch a deadly disease by just touching something -, puking his guts out.
He often asked himself why he still loved Billie – how could he still have any ounce of respect left for his best friend – but on the days when his friend was sober – on the rare but good days – all this seemed to be forgotten and it actually felt like Mike had a real boyfriend and a successful, stable relationship and not a dead-inside wreck and what seemed like the most fucked up affair in the world. And those days were worth waiting for – it was worth all this shit he had to go through to keep his relationship alive; it was all worth it if he got to see Billie genuinely smile, to talk to him and to be like a normal couple with him. And to actually have fun; hang out.
Yeah, maybe Mike could have gotten all that from someone else – but without the drinking and drugs – but oddly enough, he didn't want anyone else. Maybe that sounds like one of the hugest cliches in the world but it was true. Mike felt like it was his responsibility to take care of Billie and to love him; even if no one else did, even if everyone else had already lost all respect for him. Mike believed Billie still had some of that spark of his inside and that it was just a matter of time before they could be happy again. It might have been foolish of him but he needed it; needed some kind of reminder to keep on believing on his best friend, no matter what.
Mike quickly paced around the outside of the bar, checking alleyways for a sign of Billie. And he did find him, sooner than expected. He was alone, - thank God - sitting in a corner of an alleyway, hugging his knees tightly and looking very unstable and scared. Mike quickly jogged over to him and knelt down next to his shivering form. Billie looked up at him, red circles around his dull eyes, his face flushed – obviously from crying – and his hair a mess, the sweaty locks falling over his eyes. There was also a broken bottle of hard liquid next to him on the ground.
Mike hesitated but hugged Billie, cautiously at first, smelling the alcohol from his friend which made his insides feel even worse. He wanted to cry – just burst out crying and bawl his eyes out – but he couldn't, he wouldn't. Not here. Not in front of Billie. He was at least going to try to be the strong one.
Billie clung to him as soon as he had his arms around his taller frame. Mike almost fell on top of him, surprised at his friend's reaction.
”I'm sorry, Mike, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” Billie kept whispering those words desperately into Mike's ear, a strangled sob occasionally escaping his lips.
Mike took in a deep breath, ”I know, Bill.”
Mike led his friend to the bathroom of his house. Billie's feet were wobbling every now and then, making it extremely hard for him to stand up straight, let alone walk which in turn made Mike's job a lot more difficult. He sat Billie on top of the toilet lid and after filling the bathtub, he peeled his friend's clothes off of his foul body. He then helped Billie step into the warm water and started helping him in getting himself clean of the reek of hard liquor and cigarettes.
”I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry...” Billie continued repeating his mantra over and over again, pleading for Mike's forgiveness – yet again –, his hoarse, slurred voice seeming to echo from the walls of the otherwise silent room.
”Shut up, Billie. It's okay”, Mike whispered, a hint of bitter annoyance in his tone. However, Billie decided to ignore his friend's words, so Mike told him again, this time raising his voice slightly.
”Please, don't hate me Mike. You know I love you, I'd do anything for you, I would. I'm sorry, you have to be- ,” he hiccuped, ”believe me. Please? I'm sorry, I'm--” he rambled on, not taking any notice whatsoever to the way Mike's palms were tightening their grip on his shoulder threateningly.
”Fucking shut up!” SLAP.
No, no, no...
Mike let his hand drop down slowly and turned his head away from Billie's now tear-filled orbs, letting his exhausted body slump down to the cold floor. He buried his head into his hands, as if not wanting Billie to see him as he broke down crying, - and who could have honestly blamed him – he couldn't keep it in anymore. No matter how hard he had tried, how much he'd prayed and wanted to be the strong one, he couldn't. The sobs were racking his body rabidly and the whimpering sounds were escaping past his thin, pallid lips every now and then.
And all the while when Mike was sucked into his own world of tears, desperation, regret, frustration and every other goddamn emotion, Billie was watching his smaller, shaking figure intently, the tiny voice inside of his intoxicated mind telling him to go over to his friend, hug him – never minding the circumstances – and tell him he was going to get all sober for him. But no matter how much Billie wanted to do all those things, he simply couldn't. He was afraid he'd have to lie to Mike and Billie was a bad liar anyway, so he thought it would be best to just sit there silently, continuing to watch and wait for his best friend's river of tears to run dry.
+++
Mike was lying in bed, next to the already asleep Billie. He was watching him and stroking his still wet hair softly, thinking; thinking about leaving Billie, about how much he really did want to be the savior of the man next to him. Did he want to be his guardian angel, the one to take care of him? Was that what Mike really wanted? Because he didn't know. Not anymore. Maybe they were meant to break up, to live their lives as merely friends.
He kissed the top of Billie's head and watched, smiling as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, his mouth open agape. Billie's toned, tattooed arms wrapped themselves around Mike's slightly thinner frame and suddenly he didn't feel that hopeless anymore as the safety of Billie's warm body was embracing him. Maybe Mike still had faith in this relationship, maybe they could make it work. He was willing to give Billie the one last chance.
Yet again.