Mirrors

I needed to find Billie. Billie. Not the asshole-look-alike or the orange-suited look-alike, I wanted to see Billie. My biggest problem was, though, that I didn't know where on campus he lived. The next biggest problem was that I didn't want him coming over here, because my housemates would question who he is since they've never seen anyone coming over to talk to me, and because I don't want him to know that I want to talk to him.

I know. It sounds counter-productive, but I want to catch him off-guard, so I know if he's making up these people that look like him or not. Or something.

While I'm making a list of my problems, I might as well add the problem that I don't want to, like, stalk him or something to figure out where he lives, and the problem that I don't know anyone else he knows besides me, so I can't ask them if they know where he lives.

Fuck. I think this is why I never wanted a relationship again after...after...oh God, I can't even think his name! I'm still so fucked up from him, I don't know if I even want to go looking for Billie anymore, but I don't want to leave this...thing we have hanging off a cliff. It's either I push the thing off the edge and it's dead, or I pull it up off the cliff and see what happens. I'm really scared to pull it up off the cliff, though, even if my cursory experiences with Billie lead me to believe he's a good guy and all.

Fuck. Again. Emotions and I never mixed well after...him. Maybe Billie brings change, though. Maybe college is gonna bring change now. A lot of people hate change, and hate having to adjust to it, but I am kinda desperate for change right now. For me, change would be good. Change would actually be excellent.



I was walking back from my English class at the furthest point possible from my house, of course, because this school seems to be trying to send me the message that I need to get more exercise, and I saw a mop of shaggy black hair inserting a key into the front door of one of the townhouses by the laundry building. So that's where he lives. The next problem I have is that I don't know which room his is, so I don't want to walk into a house and ask some random dude which room Billie lives in. And I'm even more fucked if he has a roommate, because this is a very private matter. I'm a very private person, anyway.

I have a ten-page paper to start on for my English class, so I figured I'd casually ask if Billie has a roommate, and if he tends to leave or stick around on weekends. I didn't have time to go waltzing in there right now. Also, I need to figure out if Billie himself stays on campus on weekends. I should probably figure that out first. Luckily for me, it was Wednesday, so it certainly wasn't too early to be asking about weekend plans.

As I continued to walk back home, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked behind me and saw Billie walking past and he smiled when I caught his eye. I smiled back, weakly, and watched him for a moment as he continued his hurried walking to...wherever he's going. Whatever. I have a hot date with a very long English paper.



About three pages into the paper, my computer announces to me that's it's six o'clock. Glancing up at the clock in the corner, I figured I would go grab some dinner before the dining hall closes at seven, and then come back to work on my paper. Setting my computer on my desk and stretching as I stood, I patted my back pockets to check for my keys and my phone, and locked my bedroom door and the front door to the apartment as I left.

I smiled lightly as I left my apartment building and the sun was low in the sky, casting simultaneous beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and purple. This would be a great scene to paint if I actually had paints. And an easel. And a definite scene where no academic buildings or residence halls are in the picture. I might as well forget it, then.

Seeing as I didn't have the habit of looking for people in the dining hall when I entered, mainly because there's no one I ever really want to talk to while I'm eating, I didn't notice Billie sitting at a table close to the grill station. "Belle!" he called out over the din of other dining students. Because I knew only Billie called me by that nickname, I took a deep breath and tried not to make it too obvious that his calling out his personal nickname for me makes me freeze. I turned around with a shy smile on my face as I walked the few steps to where Billie was sitting. "Hey!" he said, smiling widely.

"Hi, Billie."

"How are you?" he asked casually.

I really wanted to just cut to the chase; I was absolute shit at beating around the bush. "Billie...Can we please just skip the formalities?"

Billie's smile faded off his face in recognition of what I really wanted to talk about. "Yeah...I guess." There was a moment of silence when Billie paused. "I know what you really want to talk about, Arabella," he said, serious now.

"Well that's good," I said. "I would consider it a pain in the ass if I had to explain it to you."

He chuckled lightly as he looked down at the food he had left on his plate. When he looked back up at me, his face was serious again. "I don't want to talk about it here, though. How about you come back to my place after dinner?" he suggested.

"Do you have a roommate?" I asked. Billie nodded. "Will he be there when we get back?" Billie shrugged. "Well, I don't want to constantly have to worry about being interrupted."

"So do you want to talk at your house?" Billie asked.

"I don't have a roommate, so I would feel better."

"What about the rest of your house?"

"What about them?"

"What if they come in or something, and it becomes too loud for us to talk?"

"Then I guess we'll go to your place."

"What if my roommate's there?"

"I don't know, Billie! That's kind of your problem, not mine!" I snapped.

Billie sat back, instantly quieted. A few moments later he leaned forward again, but only to finish eating what was left of his dinner. When he didn't say anything for a couple of minutes, I looked at him, but he didn't look back up right away. I kept looking at him until he looked back up at me. "What?" he asked, making it obvious that I pissed him off.

I sighed, my face softening from annoyed to vulnerable. "I'm sorry," I murmured, looking down as soon as my mouth closed.

Billie continued to be quiet. When he spoke, he said, "It's okay. This must be a very...personal matter to you."

I nodded. "Indeed it is."

"Do you think your housemates will come in tonight?" Billie asked timidly.

"I don't know. They're very unpredictable."

"Well why don't we just go back to your place after this, then?" Billie suggested.

"That's fine with me."

We were silent for most of the rest of dinner, and on the way back to my apartment. The first words spoken were by Billie, and only when we were settled in my room, with all the doors locked. "So," he said.

"So," I said back. "You said you knew what I wanted to talk about?"

Billie nodded. "Yeah. We haven't seen each other since..." - Billie sighed - "...since we kissed."

My cheeks involuntarily heated up; I could feel them. "I know. I've been wanting to talk to you since this morning."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be found this morning, I had a lot of work to do for my French class this morning. We had a test that I had to make up and I didn't remember until midnight, so I only got three hours of sleep," Billie explained.

"You seem very awake," I remarked.

Billie chuckled. "Yeah, I had three cups of coffee, too."

I nodded at him. "Well that explains that. Now..."

Billie sighed. "Yes. I think you should go first."

I gave him a quizzical look, but he just nodded, so I crossed my legs and faced him. "Billie, I want to let you know that I've been avoiding relationships since my very first day of college." I took a deep breath and willed myself not to cry. "I was in a really bad spot in my life when I entered high school. My dad had just left my mom, and my older sister was refusing to go into rehab for drug abuse, and my mom just broke down and started drinking, and I didn't know where to turn, so when the first chance came to have an escape from all of that, I took it. As I got older, things started getting better in my family: my parents made amends, but aren't together anymore; my sister finally went into rehab; my mom began to curb her drinking; but things didn't get any better for me. Actually, they got worse. Since things were tremendously better in my family, I was beginning to find myself again, and I wanted to separate from the boy that I had met - the one that I thought was my escape from my shitty family problems - but he didn't want to separate from me. Every time I told him I wanted to try and see other people, or that I just didn't want to be with him anymore..." - I took a deep breath - "...and he started to beat me."

Billie put a hand over his mouth for a moment, then took the hand that wasn't wiping my face in both of his. "Belle...!"

I was freely crying now. "I know, I know, and the worst part is that I didn't tell anyone. When my mom saw the bruises on my face and my arms, I just told her I was getting in a lot of fights. When it continued to happen, my mom made me tell her that...my boyfriend was beating me because I found him when I was at a bad spot in my life, and now I was getting better and I didn't want to be with him anymore, and my mom - God bless her - she got me separated from him. She got a restraining order put on him so he couldn't work with me in school, or come find me after school, or he would be put in juvy. Ever since I came to school, I've avoided close relationships with anyone, regardless. That's why I have so many portraits on my walls. That's why I always carry a sketchbook. That's why I consider Lee my only real friend, because she is the only person that actually understands what I've been through, since she's been through something similar." I began to cry harder, becoming slightly incomprehensible. I felt Billie squeeze my hand tightly as I continued. "And I'm really confused and emotional right now because I never do anything like what I did the other day when I kissed you, and I really like you, Billie, I really do, but I'm scared, Billie, I'm really fucking scared! I don't wanna get hurt again!"

Billie didn't say a word; he just grabbed my shoulders and brought me close to him, hugging me tight as I cried harder than I've ever cried into Billie's shoulder, because he has been only the second person outside of my family that I've told anything about my past. I'm not sure how long it had been before my crying had started to subside, but I finally brought my head up from Billie's shoulder and looked at him. "Arabella, I have something to tell you as well," Billie said solemnly.

I wiped my eyes again and sniffled. "Yeah, what skeletons are hidden in your closet?" I asked.

Billie chuckled and kissed my forehead, making me blush much harder than it would if I wasn't in such a vulnerable state. He smiled at me, wiping at the fresh tears that were running down my red cheeks, then took a deep breath and said, "I have a disorder."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a psychological disorder. It's called DID, which stands for Dissociative Identity Disorder," Billie explained.

I sat back slightly and took Billie's hand lightly in mine. "So what does that mean?"

Billie smiled lightly and briefly, then squeezed my hand. My cheeks flared red for a moment; I hadn't noticed he noticed that I had taken his hand. "It's also called Multiple Personality Disorder."

"Oh. So those people I met that look like you...really are you?"

Billie nodded. "I was diagnosed when I was fifteen. Fink was actually prevalent before Twitch was, and it was when Twitch appeared that my parents got me seen by a psychiatrist."

"So you know the other two...personalities...exist?" I asked.

Billie nodded. "And I remember what they do when I'm back as me. As Billie," he said.

I nodded slowly, then sighed. "Okay," I said simply.

"Arabella, I don't tell many girls this because they usually run away from me. They can't handle it. They always feel like they're cheating on me because there's more than one me." Billie took both my hands and looked me in the eye. "Belle, I want you to be my girlfriend."

I gasped loudly and pursed my lips tightly together, my face betraying my mind to show my mask of pure fear. "Billie...," I whispered, biting my bottom lip nervously.

"Arabella. Listen to me. I understand you've been hurt in the past, I've been hurt too. But I really like you, too, Belle, and I can respect you've been hurt very badly if you can respect the fact that I'm not like other guys. There's more than one of me, so I hope you could be willing to deal with that, and I'll deal with the fact that you've been hurt."

I smiled, started crying again, and leaned in to kiss Billie. When I pulled away, I took Billie's face in both my hands and kept his face very close to mine. "Billie Joe Armstrong."

He smiled and put one of his hands over mine. "Arabella Fiesco."

"I'm willing to deal with all the shit that comes with being with you, Billie, because I want to," I said. Billie pulled me forward and kissed me sweetly. "Billie. Come on. You can be a little more emotional than that."

He just grinned and kissed me passionately, sneakily nipping at my bottom lip.