She Screams in Silence

Alone in her apartment, Felicity sighed heavily some nights later––the night, in fact, upon which Green Day’s concert was to take place. She stared down at the object in her lap, a small unremarkable wooden box. She ran her hand over the surface of the box’s lid before undoing the little brass latch and revealing the singular item housed in its depths––a delicate little silver bracelet with a Swarovski crystal bedecked charm. She didn’t have the heart to wear it, but even more so lacked the heart to dispose of it. Rather she kept it in the little box, like she boxed up everything in her life to avoid the pain of facing it. But hiding something doesn’t render it nonexistent, no matter how hard one may try. So rather Felicity would take to, a few times a week, sadly inspecting the contents of her wooden box, holding the bracelet between her fingers, despondently watching it catch the light and sparkle back at her.

This evening, however, she differed a bit in her routine and did something she hadn’t done for four years, doing the clasp around her wrist. Looking down at the bracelet, she knew it was foolish and painful to keep dredging this up. But she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

The hours ticked by slowly. Vicky had gone out club-hopping and hadn’t yet returned. She probably wouldn’t until morning, dragging herself through the door with a massive hangover or cheerily bouncing in after having crashed on some friend’s couch and been aided by massive amounts of caffeine.

It was past midnight. Felicity couldn’t sleep. Curled up on the sofa, an untouched Cup of Noodles sitting on the coffee table, she stared blankly at the television, willing herself to either start feeling tired or to stop thinking of a particular person.

No good on either count.

Giving up, she switched the TV off, sitting there in the dark for a few minutes. Well, if she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well go grab a coffee and add some fuel to the fire. Getting up, she went in her room and ran a brush through her hair, grimacing at the lovely way her eyeliner had given her the dark circle effect, trying her best to wipe away the smudges.

Oh well. It was a coffee shop in the middle of the night. Who was going to give a damn?

She put on her shoes at the door and grabbed her jacket, sticking her arms through the sleeves as she made her way down the stairs. The little diner was just down the road, not even a block away. It was a twenty-four hour affair, famous for serving coffee swimming in grounds, mushy french fries, and rubbery-tasting eggs. Hardly gourmet, but then again, the diner didn’t have anything on the menu that ran over five dollars.

She stepped inside the grimy little restaurant, the bell on the door handle jingling as she pushed it.

“What can I get you, hun?” the tired waitress asked from behind the counter, managing a faint customer-service smile.

“Coffee, please? Black,” she requested, slipping into one of the stools, folding her arms and resting them on the counter-top. There was a line of booths behind her as well, currently only occupied by an old woman with a cup of tea and a dozing trucker.

The waitress slid Felicity her mug of coffee and she took a sip, ignoring that it was terrible. The point was that it was strong and caffeinated.

“This is the kind of place that serves pie. I think I’d like some pie. Can we get some pie?” a voice echoed from outside the door. Amazingly, it belonged to an adult male.

“Shut the hell up. I’m getting some coffee and then we’re going to go,” another man’s voice accompanied the pie monger, sounding a bit annoyed.

A third male voice joined in, but as he wasn’t speaking as loudly, his words were blurred and indistinct.

The door jingled again as the trio began entering the shop. One approached the cash register several feet from where Felicity sat, one made a beeline for the pie case, and the third took a seat at one of the booths behind her.

Felicity froze in horror, her mouth dry as sawdust.

“Coffee, please?” Mike asked the waitress.

“Oo, they have pumpkin pie! And chocolate cream! And...rhubarb! I don’t even know what this is, but I want it! Or should I get apple pie?” Tre admired the pie selection, hovering dangerously close to the row of stools where Felicity was seated.

“Fuck, Mike, can’t you just get the coffee to go? I’m exhausted!” came the last voice––the all-too-familiar voice––from the booth. She didn’t have to turn to know it was him. Not to mention she was completely paralyzed in terror and couldn’t have turned if her life depended on it.

“Oh, relax. It’ll take five minutes,” Mike waved him aside, pulling out his wallet. “Hey, Tre, what kind of pie do you want?”

“Um...can I have more than one?”

“No. Pick one.”

“Cherry! No, no, lemon! No, wait...boysenberry! No, nevermind. Uh...”

“Can I get a slice of apple, too? Go sit down, Tre.”

Tre flipped him off, skulking off towards the booth.

They hadn’t recognized her...or even noticed her for that matter. Get the fuck out!!!! her mind screamed. Before they see you! Leave! Now!

But in the meantime, Tre had chosen a rather roundabout way to get to his seat, meandering off near Felicity. Way too near, for suddenly he caught sight of her. He paused in his trek to the booth, cocking his head and staring at her oddly, like he couldn’t quite place her.

Felicity felt him watching her, turning her head in the opposite direction. Maybe if she left now, he’d shrug it off and wouldn’t recognize her.

“Aw, Billie-boy’s tired!” Mike sang, taking his coffee and the plate with Tre’s pie to the table. Felicity could only imagine Billie was taking a catnap behind her, and thus definitely hadn’t noticed her. “Tre, you want your pie?” Mike called to him.

“Yeah, yeah, just a minute,” Tre answered, continuing to study Felicity, trying to figure out where he’d seen her before.

Damn him to hell! Felicity knew she had to get out before he realized it was her. Why, oh, why didn’t he just leave well enough alone and go eat his pie?! The other two––thank God––hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction.

Knowing she’d die if he figured it out, she suddenly reached for her purse, her voice coming out quiet and shaky as she asked the waitress, “How much for the coffee?”

“Dollar fifty, dearie.”

Felicity nodded as she searched in her purse for some money. Her hand was trembling. Tre was frowning now. He’d obviously recognized her voice, but it didn’t look like he had managed to figure out just where she was from and it was driving him crazy.

No dollar bills––only a wrinkled five. Felicity slammed it on the table. “Keep the change.” She rose a bit unsteadily from her seat, keeping her eyes on the ground as she tried to step past Tre.

“I know you from somewhere!” Tre spoke up, pointing at her.

“No, you don’t,” she replied, focusing on the door––her escape.

“Yes, yes, I do! Where have I seen you before?”

“For God’s sakes, Tre, stop hitting on her!” Billie’s voice called out behind them. Felicity pivoted her head, finally looking at him. He was sprawled out on one side of the booth, his hands behind his head, his jawline sporting a faint stubble. They’d obviously come straight from the concert. He looked just the same. Exactly. Just as she remembered him...just as gorgeous and everything.

“I’m not hitting on her!” Tre protested, frowning at the way the girl’s terrified gaze had suddenly locked on Billie. “She’s...” he trailed off.

Felicity forced herself to tear her gaze away from Billie, knowing if she was going to get out now, this was it. For the briefest moment, she allowed her eyes to meet Tre’s, hoping that her look of pleading would be enough for him to let her go and forget he ever saw her, forget trying to remember her.

That proved to be her undoing, for as he looked at her face full-on, Tre’s eyes widened in disbelief. Felicity felt her heart practically jump into her throat. That look of recognition was clear. He knew her now.

“City-Street!” Tre cried.

He’d done it. He called her out.

At the sound of the nickname, Billie pivoted around. Felicity turned her head, meeting his astonished face. They just stared at each other, Billie’s bright green eyes standing out against his face whitened in shock.

Compelling her feet to move, Felicity suddenly turned away, trying to run for the door.

“Felicity?” Billie called out, starting to stand up.

Momentarily, she looked back and then wished she hadn’t. In the next second, she pushed the door open, dashing into the night, praying for this nightmare to end.

Billie sprang out of his seat, racing after her, the door giving another jingle as he exited.

“Well, safe to say we won’t be seeing him for awhile,” Mike remarked as Tre slid into the booth.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Then he looked down at his plate, “Did you eat my pie?!”

• • •

“Felicity!” Billie shouted, tearing down the street after her. Was it really her after all this time? And if it was, why was she running?

Felicity didn’t stop. If she could just get to her apartment, she could lock herself in and get away. She couldn’t face him now. Her lungs were burning and her heart was pounding, but she had to keep going. His footsteps were growing louder. Why couldn’t she run faster?! He couldn’t outrun her, could he?

Billie did indeed catch up to her within the minute. “Felicity!” he gasped, trying to grab her wrist and stop her.

“Let me go! Leave me alone!”

“It is you! Stop! Please!” he said, not relaxing his grip no matter how much she struggled against him.

“No, just let me go! Please!”

“No! I’m not letting you go! Dammit, stop trying to get away from me! What’s your problem?!”

“I’m not doing this! Billie, let go of me!” she cried, trying to wrench her arm away. Her apartment building was only yards away now, in plain sight. Twisting herself around, she jerked her arm free, bolting for her doorstep and ripping her keys out of her purse.

But Billie was on her heels, racing up the steps after her, determined not to be thrown off. “Stop! I just want you to––”

“Stop following me! Leave me be!” she cut him off, trying to slam the front door of the apartment complex once she was inside.

Billie caught it with his hand, shoving it open and trailing her up the stairs. “No, now wait a minute––you can’t do this! You can’t just walk by me after four years without so much as a fucking phone call and then expect me to be fine about it!”

“I’m not having this conversation! What’s past is past. Just drop it!”

“No!” he caught up to her, grabbing her arm. “You can’t tell me to drop it! Not when you...” he trailed off, shaking his head, “you just left! You didn’t say anything! You didn’t call! You just fucking left!”

Felicity whirled around on the step above him. “Well, you wouldn’t have me! And I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay there wondering if and when you’d come back when I didn’t have any place to go!”

“What the fuck?! I went on tour; I didn’t join the fucking Foreign Legion and go die in some war!”

Felicity shook her head furiously, reaching her door and violently shoving the key into the lock. “Go back downstairs, Billie.”

“No! I want to know why you did that!” he protested, catching the door again and forcing his way in behind her, slamming it back shut. “I want to know why you just left me like that!”

“I didn’t leave you! You left me! Do you understand that?!”

“You did the leaving! I didn’t do a damn thing!”

Felicity was seeing too much red to be fair to what had actually transpired, too flustered to think straight. “Well, fine, but you sure as hell weren’t doing anything to stop me! You wouldn’t even have thought of trying to get me to stay! I told you I was leaving and you told me to move on with my life and you didn’t give a damn what I did with it! You wouldn’t have done one fucking thing about it! And I hate you for it!”

Billie stared at her, breathing hard. She was fuming, her dark eyes snapping, her face white with anger. Her breathing was as ragged as his. He’d never seen her look so furious. And, looking down at her, suddenly something in him snapped. In the next second he pushed her against the wall, pinning her wrists against it, crashing his lips against hers roughly. She gasped in shock, frozen for several seconds. But then, her blood still boiling, she wrenched one of her arms from his grasp and went to slap him across the face. But at that moment, he pressed into her, parting her lips with his, his tongue slipping in her mouth. She gave a far different sort of gasp and that arm went around his neck instead, her hand grasping his hair, fiercely tugging at it. He released her other wrist, sliding his hands up and down her sides. His lips dropped across her collarbone, down over the exposed skin above her V-neck, before returning to savagely claim her lips once more. It was some sort of insane chemical reaction neither of them could have fought even if they wanted to.

Hardly aware of herself, Felicity stepped back, her hand searching for the handle of her door and finally grasping it, pushed the door open behind her. They stepped through, Billie slamming it shut behind him again, not breaking away for a moment. His lips trailed down her neck, hot against her madly rushing pulse, biting the skin right above her collarbone, as Felicity tried and failed to stifle the moan in her throat. His hands slipped under her shirt, caressing her skin up across her stomach, her ribcage, and over her bra, breaking her out in goosebumps before sliding back down again to grasp the hem of her shirt and rip it off over her head. Felicity met his lips with hers once more, biting down on his lower lip as she furiously tugged at the buttons of his shirt and wrenched his tie loose. Tie and shirt soon joined the pile of hastily shed clothes, all the while Billie tugging at her jeans and Felicity undoing his belt, hooking her hands on the waist of his pants and pulling them off. Pants off, within seconds Billie had unhooked her bra, his lips again trailing over her neck, along her collarbone, and then continued downward, now no longer impeded by any fabric. Felicity gasped, her hands tightening around his shoulders, before starting to force him back, pushing him onto the bed. As he went, he grabbed her waist, pulling her along with him. She pinned him down, straddling his hips, figuring as she had lost control in all other aspects of this situation, this was one way she could keep it.

But suddenly, she felt his hands on her back and he rolled them both over so he was on top. Apparently, he was along the same lines of thinking. And try as she might to flip their position again, she couldn’t fight his weight. And it just felt so damn good.

Felicity knew she shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have given into this, but she didn’t care. Damn right and wrong for now.

The last of their clothes joined the melee on the floor, Billie’s ardent lips burning into her skin. Felicity’s nails bit into his shoulder blades, holding onto him as the only incredibly real thing in her world, drowning in him. Rather than agonize over misery, mistakes, anger, relief to have one another, and the terrible fear it could all be taken away again, there was only this raw, physical passion.

The rest of it could wait.

When at last Felicity's neighbor downstairs no longer had reason to worry the plaster on her ceiling was going to start raining down, Billie had collapsed against her, the both of them gasping for breath. Felicity's hands idly traced along his back, assuring herself he was really there, what had just happened was not some crazy, wistful figment of her imagination.

After a minute or so, he rolled over on his back and she lay in his arms, her legs against his, listening to his heart, which hadn’t yet slowed down. After several more minutes of silence and Felicity regaining her breath, she whispered, “I hate you, Billie Joe.”

“You sure have an interesting way of showing it,” he murmured back.