She Screams in Silence

Felicity yawned, blinking and raising her tousled head from the pillow. Glancing over, she noted the other side of the bed was empty. Had last night all been a dream?

Or, terrible thought, if she hadn’t imagined it and he had left...

She shook her head, looking around and suddenly spying something on the floor.

Well, if Billie wasn’t here, she was either beyond marvelous at hallucinating or he had departed without his pants.

“Hey,” the door opened to reveal Billie in his boxer shorts, looking at her uncertainly, “you awake?”

“M-hm,” she nodded, sitting up, the sheet tucked under her arms.

“Well...erm...I was going to attempt the breakfast in bed thing, except I got into the kitchen and realized I don’t cook worth shit. That, and you need to go grocery shopping, because even if I could, there’s not much to make––unless frozen peas really get you going in the morning.”

She smiled quickly. “It’s all right. I was just worried for a second that you...”

“Left?” he finished for her, grinning and raising an eyebrow. “Pants-less? Sexy. And sort of would get me arrested.” He glanced back to the door and then to her again, “I hope you don’t mind I used your phone. Just wanted to assure Mike and Tre I wasn’t lying dead somewhere.”

“It’s fine. Only ten cents a minute. So you owe me...fifty cents?”

“You’re not serious.”

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s just that I’m attempting to use humor because this situation is threatening to become extraordinarily awkward.”

“I think it has...became...or become...or...wait...aw, fuck it,” Billie closed his eyes, shaking his head. “So...” he sat down on the bed, exhaling slowly, “now that we’ve admitted we’ve veered into awkward––about last night. Look, I’m sorry if I let emotions or hormones or whatever it was get the best of me there in case you’re feeling like I sort of took advantage of the situation...or you.”

“I don’t,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“It’s just,” he bit on his lip, rubbing the back of his neck, “when I saw you, I just...I mean, I never thought I was going to see you again. I tried to find you for so long. You have no idea. I couldn’t...” He paused. “Felicity, when you left, that almost killed me. I couldn’t let you leave again without...” He stopped abruptly, frowning and focusing on something near her hand. Before Felicity could ask why he appeared to be so mesmerized and disconcerted by what she could only assume was the sheet, he reached for her hand, his fingertips brushing against her skin. “You’re still wearing that bracelet.” His voice had a note of genuine surprise in it.

Felicity started, wondering what he was talking about, before following his gaze to her wrist. There, sparkling back at her, was the bracelet she had put on the night before. She had forgotten she had it on. “I...” she began. “I haven’t worn it since I...” she trailed off, not wanting to finish, knowing they both knew what she meant. “But last night I just...I don’t know. I guess I just...yeah.” She struggled to explain herself, failing miserably.

“You kept it,” he stated. “Why? I thought that when you...I really thought that you––”

“Hated you?” she whispered, anticipating him. “I realize I screamed that at you a couple of times in the past twelve hours or so, but...well, you often manage to leave me feeling rather flustered,” she blushed at the smirk on his face, “so you can’t exactly take everything I say at face-value, because sometimes I’m just...”

“Hot and bothered by my sexiness?”

“Oh, shut up,” she scowled, withdrawing her hand. “Suffice it to say, I don’t actually hate you. I couldn’t even feel...neutral towards you, as it were. I’ve spent the past four years telling myself that you didn’t care, that I should forget you, that I was trying to forget you when I patently wasn’t.” She traced the bracelet with her index, “But I couldn’t...I mean...well, obviously you see how well that worked out.” She watched him trying to hold back from grinning and continued, “So if we’re quite finished having me doing this incoherent babbling?”

“Mind if I give it a go, then?” he smiled.

“You are more than welcome.”

His smile suddenly departed and he hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. “I wanted to say something to you before you left, but I never...” he paused.

“What?”

“Well, I...the thing is...” he began, staring down at the duvet before bringing his eyes up to hers, “I think I’m in love with you. And I think I’ve been in love with you for the past five years and it drove me crazy knowing I might never see you again. And even if you don’t...” he trailed off, shrugging simply, “I had to let you know.”

Felicity gaped at him. He loved her. Honestly. He still loved after everything. And he was the first one ever to really mean it. She had been wrong––he did far more than simply giving a damn.

After a few more moments of her simply staring at him in amazement, he added, “Now, see, here’s the part where you have to say something back and give me some indication of your reaction. Because I sort of just put myself on the line here, and even you running out of the room screaming in horror is a whole lot better than you not saying anything. I don’t know about you, but this is freakishly awkward right now, so if you could help me out and speak, I’d really appreciate it.”

“...You love me?” she asked almost inaudibly.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, grinning back at her.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, smiling.

Relief flooded his face, but then he glanced around worriedly. “You’re not just saying that in order to spare my feelings or something, are you?”

She shook her head, “I swear to God I’m telling the truth.”

This prompted several minutes worth of moony euphoria, Billie pulling her to him, his lips claiming hers, his hands locking around her waist. And this would most certainly have escalated, had it not been that behind the instinct to blissfully melt into his arms, Felicity suddenly felt a sharp pain dig at her. He still wanted her, still loved her––that was more than she could ask for, far more than she had the right to ask for.

“Wait, I have to say something, too,” she pulled away, the sick, guilty feeling taking over and destroying the moment.

“...Right now?” his face fell as the proceedings came to a halt, for it was painfully obvious that what she had to say was not, “Billie, please rip this sheet off of me and show me the meaning of life with the most wondrous, heart-stopping, indescribable lovemaking the world has ever known, you sex god, you.”

She ignored the look of profound disappointment on his face. “Yes, I have to say––to tell you that...” she paused. “I’m sorry, Billie,” she said quietly. She certainly didn’t have to explain what she was apologizing for. In leaving four years ago, she had made a mistake she could never atone for. She had been thoughtless of the pain she would cause the both of them, too wrapped up in a self-involved panic to think of the consequences of just running away from it all. She could never take it back, but she could at least let him know how much she truly regretted it, to try to make things right. She couldn’t quite do the blissful melting into his arms in good conscience without that.

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “You did what you thought you had to.”

“But I should have––”

He cut her off, “Felicity, look, there’s a lot of shit in life we should do or shouldn’t do or...well, the point is, you can’t sit and dwell on it after the fact. You can’t change the past.”

“But I still wish––”

He grinned at her, “Fuck the past and the future. I got you right now.”

“How very carpe diem of you.”

“I like to think so,” he nodded. Seeing her brief smile falter and knowing she meant to continue in her apologies, he went on, “So if we’re going with the whole ‘living in the moment’ concept, your crazy self-imposed guilt trip thing doesn’t really go with that.”

“But––”

“Stop it.”

“Fine then,” she sighed, not feeling even remotely less guilty than she had before despite his requests that she not do so. Treading safer waters, she switched subjects and asked, “So with our embracing the present philosophy, is it all right if I ask how Cat is? Are she and Tre still together?”

Billie nodded. “She came on tour with us this time around, actually. She’s good, but she’s been a little down lately. She decided it would be fun if we had a ‘tour bus pet,’ so she went and got a hermit crab and named it Clark Gable. Sadly, Clark died a couple nights ago. She made us have a funeral for it.”

“I’m...sorry for your loss?”

“No, no, be sorry for the fact that a twenty-four year old woman had a fucking funeral for a hermit crab. She tried to make me play ‘Candle in the Wind’ during the service.” He frowned at the look on her face, “What?”

“I’m just trying to picture you channeling Elton John. It’s a weird image.”

“Please stop,” he answered flatly. “But, uh, speaking of people from the past...” he paused, glancing at her, “if you don’t mind me asking, that is...”

“Yes?”

“What happened to your parents?”

“I don’t know,” Felicity shrugged. “We are...estranged.” It was odd to actually say that out loud. Vicky never asked about her family, too busy ranting about her overly-intrusive but well-meaning mother. And of all the people in her past Felicity had struggled to forget, her parents had sort of faded into the background. She occasionally wondered what they were doing, if maybe they missed her...

She wondered what they had told people after they threw her out and she hadn’t returned weeping and begging their forgiveness, a female version of the prodigal son. Did they care that she was gone––past how it affected their social standing, that is?

But those questions came only infrequently and didn’t weigh all that heavily on her mind. For though it made her feel a little ashamed to admit it, she really didn’t miss them. She had spent the past four years feeling miserable and empty, like part of her was missing, but that had nothing to do with Rachel and Richard being absent from her life. They were in her past and, on the whole, she was quite happy to leave them there.

Seeing her expression, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject. I shouldn’t have––”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just...you’re the first one to ask about them. I don’t even think about them that much,” she shook her head. Then looking up at him, she asked, “Billie, is it wrong that I don’t miss them?”

“You’re not required to miss anyone.”

“...I missed you,” she shrugged, her voice quiet.

“And I’m very glad about that,” he nodded, leaning in, his lips meeting hers. When he pulled away a few minutes later, he yawned, leading Felicity to ask, “What, did I bore you?”

“No,” he laughed. “Sorry. But while we’re on the subject of my yawning, would you happen to have the implements to make coffee in that empty kitchen of yours?”

“I doubt it, but you can go check. Vicky burns through that stuff pretty fast––my roommate. She’s gone right now.”

“Wish me luck, then,” he said, rising and going back through the door, closing it behind him. He wasn’t more than two steps across the floor when a key suddenly turned in the lock of the front door.

“Hey, Lissie, sorry I didn’t call, but you would not believe the night I––” Vicky called out as she unlocked the door and stepped in, coffee in hand. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Billie in his boxers frozen in the middle of the room, staring at her. They gaped at each other for several moments, but just as Billie found his voice and opened his mouth to explain himself, Vicky beat him to it and screamed.

“Whoa, Jesus, just let me––” Billie started forward, his hands up.

“Don’t you take one more step!!” Vicky shrieked, dashing to the side and grasping a frying pan. “One more step and I’ll...kill you! I’m going to call the cops!”

“Look, I’m––”

“You’re breaking and entering! You’re trying to murder me, you sick freak!” Vicky glanced around wildly and suddenly tossed her coffee cup at him.

Billie jumped in alarm, dodging the hot coffee weapon. “Holy shit! Lady, let me explain!”

This only earned another banshee-like shriek from Vicky.

In the meantime, Vicky’s first scream had jolted Felicity out of bed and she ran to the door, hurriedly tying a robe around herself as she went. She entered the living room to behold Billie ducking behind a chair and Vicky looking half-crazed, wielding a frying pan and looking as though she meant to bludgeon him to death with it.

“Vicky! Stop! Stop! It’s all right!”

“He’s trying to kill us!! He broke in and he’s a sick half-naked pervert who wanted to rape us and murder us in our sleep!!”

“Vicky! No! It’s all right!” she tried to wrestle the pan away from her. “He didn’t break in! Honestly! He’s not trying to kill us! I promise!”

“How do you know?!” Vicky demanded, unwilling to release her kung-fu grip of death on the pan.

“Because I let him in! He’s with me! I swear!”

“With...you?” Vicky whispered disbelievingly, starting to lower her weapon. “You’re fucking with me.”

“No,” Billie corrected, tentatively stepping in for fear she might whack his skull with cookware, “she’s actually fucking with me.” He paused. “Though maybe in a slightly different sense of the word.”

Vicky appeared to have been struck dumb for several seconds. But as she stared at him in shock, something suddenly prompted her to double take. “Wait. You’re...you’re that guy,” the realization came over her face as she gestured to him with the frying pan. “You know––that guy.”

“Beg pardon?” Billie raised an eyebrow.

“The guy...the guy who sings. The guy who sings...in the band. The band she likes.”

“Billie Joe Armstrong,” he extended his hand. He nodded to the pan, “Hey, uh, do you think you can put that down? You’re kind of scaring me.”

Vicky’s gaze flicked to Felicity, “You’re sleeping with Billie Joe Armstrong? You’re fucking a rock star and you don’t mention it?”

“Only since last night,” Felicity replied faintly, feeling her face flush.

“And four years ago,” Billie added.

Vicky blinked a few times, trying to register the fact that she had just nearly killed a half-naked man who had proved to be the famous frontman of Green Day, who was also sleeping with her prissy recluse roommate she had given up as more virginal than a nun. “I think I need to sit down,” she whispered as she sunk down in one of the chairs, setting the frying pan on her lap. She looked up at Felicity, “This is a bit out of character for you, you do realize?”

“Yes, I realize.”

Vicky shook her head, gazing at her roommate in disbelief, “Seriously––any of this––it never occurred to you it might be worth mentioning in passing? ‘I enjoy green tea, sailing, and oh, by the way, I used to date a rock star.’ No? We didn’t think this was relevant information in the ‘about you’ bit?”

“You like green tea and sailing?” Billie raised an eyebrow at Felicity.

“No.”

“Oh God, that’s why you were so weird when I asked you about that song and the cassette tape...” Vicky trailed off, an epiphany dawning on her. “Ugh, why didn’t you tell me this?!”

“You never asked,” Felicity shrugged.

“That’s your excuse?”

“Well, that, and we were more or less broken up, never to see each other again. Thinking about it, let alone having in-depth discussions on the subject, was a little...unpleasant for me.”

“What happened?” Vicky demanded.

“It’s a long story,” Felicity shook her head.

“Then you ought to get started,” Vicky replied. “Oh, wait, before you do, where’s my coffee?”

“You threw it at me and tried to burn me to death,” Billie reminded her.

“...Oh. Right. Okay, then I need to make a coffee run first. And, uh, sorry about that. No harm, no foul,” she grinned sheepishly. She turned for her keys. “Okay, I’ll be back and then you’re going to start talking,” she pointed to Felicity, ignoring the other girl’s grimace.

As she departed, Billie remarked, “That girl’s a little obsessive about her coffee. ‘Hey, I’m desperate to hear your secret life story, but I have to have a mocha first.’ What, does she think if you talk too long, she might fall asleep?”

Felicity gave a quick laugh before stepping past Billie back towards her bedroom.
“Where are you going?”

Her hand on the doorknob, Felicity turned to give him an odd look, “...You really can’t tell?”

Rather than make some sort of sarcastic reply back, Billie only grinned as she started to step into her room, immediately at her heels, shutting the door behind him.

Felicity’s hands went to the tie on her robe, but she paused, glancing at him. “Um, I came back in here because I’m going to get dressed.”

“Good for you,” Billie shrugged, flopping back on her bed, running his eyes over her. “Don’t let me bother you.”

“...You’re going to watch?”

He gave her a withering look. “You do remember I’ve seen you naked once or twice before––including last night. Please don’t tell me you’ve developed some weird modesty thing in the space of, what, a couple hours?”

She rolled her eyes, turning away from him and towards her closet as she let the robe drop. It was better to not look at him while her face was burning scarlet. He was quite right, but she tended to like keeping fully clothed in front of other people. He may have had a point as far as the night before, but then again, it had been dark. And she had been a little preoccupied with him to bother about such things.

As the robe hit the floor, he gave a wolf whistle.

“Charming,” she muttered, blushing further and not turning.

“What is that?” Billie asked suddenly in astonishment, eyeing her backside.

“What?”

“That thing that looks like a tattoo.”

“Oh, that?” she asked innocently, brushing over the small mark on the back of her hip. “Well, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...”

“You got a tattoo?”

“Might have done.”

“Let me see,” he smiled.

“It’s nothing!” Felicity protested, though still coming over to the side of the bed, the plan to dress temporarily forgotten. He grinned, taking her hips and pulling her towards him, his fingers brushing over her tattoo that was no larger than a half-dollar.

“And what exactly convinced you to get a tattoo?” he questioned.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. It just...seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I think it’s fucking awesome.” All at once, his grip tightened around her hips and he yanked her backwards, pulling her onto the bed with him. She laughed, letting him pull her in, her head hitting the pillow. He smiled lightly, propping himself up on his elbow, his fingertips softly tracing over her stomach, along her hip. “I missed this,” he said suddenly.

Felicity decided to ignore the jump in her heart rate as his fingers ghosted down along her frame. “What, seeing me naked? You’re a real romantic, Billie.”

He laughed, but shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Now, please don’t get me wrong, I did miss seeing you naked,” he paused, giving her body an appreciative gaze, smirking as her face flushed, “but I meant––and I know this is going to sound cheesy, but just...this. You. Just kind of lying in bed feeling like I don’t have any cares or obligations outside of this. It’s very...nice.”

“That’s not cheesy,” she shook her head. “Those are some of the best memories I have.” They smiled at one another for a few moments, but before they could completely descend into the world of the cloying and saccharine, he abruptly bent down, his lips roughly meeting hers, nothing remotely syrupy about his intentions. Felicity reached up, her arm sliding around his neck, twining her fingers in his messy hair, pulling him to her. She might have asked what prompted the sudden change from schmaltz to lust, but the idea of her forming a coherent sentence seemed a bit laughable at that moment.

“Got to make up for lost time,” Billie murmured as his lips dropped to her throat. Whether he was magically answering the question she hadn’t asked, or he was just thinking out loud and said thoughts were along the same track as hers, Felicity couldn’t determine.

And as his hands slid down over her frame, along her waist and over her hips, the electric current coursing through her ramming up an extra thousand volts, she honestly didn’t care.