mike_bass_god's Journal

Tue, 03 Oct 2006 01:42:09 GMT

Falling Fast-

Mike shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously after he knocked on the door. Billie Joe stood beside him, equally as nervous, just not showing it. He never really liked new people, mainly because they never liked him. With the exception of Mike, of course.

A boy that looked to be their age, maybe just a bit younger, answered the door. Billie had seen him around school a few times, and he had a feeling that they weren’t really going to hit it off.

“Hi, Michael,” he grinned as he saw his friend in the doorway. His smile was gone, however, as soon as he spotted Billie.
“Hey, David. This is Billie Joe,” he says, gesturing to his new friend.
“What are you doing hanging around him?”

Now that feeling that Billie Joe had was gone; he knew that they weren’t going to hit it off. Do people always have to say this sort of stuff when he can here them perfectly?

“He’s my friend, David. I like being around him.”
“May I talk to you for a second? In private?” he adds the last part while throwing a glare at Billie, which is returned without hesitance.

Mike shrugs in response and allows himself to be dragged into the house by David.

“I don’t think you should be around him,” David says, not bothering to beat around the bush.
“Why not? ‘Cuz he’s gay?”
“That, too. But...just look at him. He probably does drugs or something. And...I don’t want you to leave us for that scum.”
“David, I can still be friends with you and the rest of the gang while being friends with Billie Joe. It won’t be difficult.”

David sighs in defeat, knowing that he’s not going to be able to persuade Mike. Not today, at least. Maybe after he gets to know Billie Joe more, he’ll want out.

“Whatever you say.”

They return to the doorway, to find Billie with a lit cigarette in his mouth, smirking at David. Mike knew he wasn’t just smoking it because he needed the nicotine; it was obvious that he was trying to upset David, and doing a pretty good job of it.

David’s mouth hung open as he stared wide-eyed at Billie Joe. Mike knows that he’d better hurry up and get Billie out of David’s sight once Billie takes a deep drag and blows the smoke in David’s face.

•••

“Did you see the look on that fucker’s face? That was priceless,” Billie laughs as they enter his apartment.
“Billie...” he sighs.
“What? C’mon, you know it was funny.”
“Alright, it was pretty funny,” he laughs, but he’s quick to add that no one’s going to want to be around him if he acts like that.

Billie shrugs carelessly as he sits himself down on the worn living room couch. He pats the spot next to him on the loveseat, signaling Mike to take a load off.

After they’re sat comfortably, Mike tries to break the silence that washed over them.

“Can I ask you a question?"
“Go ahead.”
“You mentioned your step-dad before...what happened to your real dad?”
“He died. Esophagus cancer...” Billie mumbles.
“I’m sorry, Billie. I didn’t know...”
“Of course you didn’t. No one really does.”

A single tear slides down Billie’s cheek, and this takes Mike by surprise. Billie Joe Armstrong cries? This was probably one of the only subjects that made him do so...but, still. He doesn’t seem like the sort of person who’s ever cried. Merely hardened through life as things got worse, refusing to let anyone in. Not that anyone ever did want to get in, though.

He doesn’t know what causes it, but for some strange reason, he reaches out and wipes the lone tear away. He gasps almost audibly as he feels how cold Billie’s pale skin is. Billie gasps as well, having not felt something like this for so long. Just countless summer flings when they say they love him, and then leave him used and broken.

But something about Mike’s touch was different from all the others. It screamed that there was something between them. A feeling of meaning, that there was a reason Billie felt butterflies in his stomach at Mike’s touch.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss Mike at that very instant, but then reminded himself that he couldn’t. “Just because he’s okay with you being gay doesn’t mean that he is.”

He didn’t know what it was about Mike that he liked so much, but he knew that he was falling for him, and falling fast.

Part Five of 'The Recovery'

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 21:31:51 GMT

The Final Dose-

Billie Joe was anxious about his fix, and Tré was anxious for the whole drug problem to be over with. Billie asked Tré if he would be with him for his last shot, and Tré never goes back on a promise.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, Tré.”
“I promised.”

Billie says nothing more. He just reaches for the syringe on the coffee table, tightening the rope around his arm in the process. He rests the tip of the needle over the largest vein on his wrist. Even now, this early into the ritual, Tré feels the need to vomit, and can actually taste the bile that seems to want to come up.

“Last chance,” Billie Joe warns.
“Just get it over with.”

He knew what was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next. Prepared him for seeing his own husband inject a deadly drug into himself.

It took about five minutes for the affects to kick in, and in that time Billie Joe had removed the rope and set that and the syringe back on the coffee table, and was now leaning into his husband. Tré ran his hands up and down Billie’s back lightly, afraid of what was to come.

Finally, Billie’s mouth turned upright into a lazy smile, and his glazed eyes looked up to Tré.

“It’s amazing, Tré,” he mumbles quickly and quietly.
“Why’s that?”

Billie Joe recoils from his husband, hands immediately covering his ears. Tré thinks back to the pamphlet the therapist had given him on meth users. He recalls that sensitive hearing, talking quickly, and mood swings were all parts of the drug.

“Sorry,” Tré whispers.

For the next few hours he has to deal with Billie Joe and Aden. Have you ever tried to take care of your one-year-old child while your meth abusing husband is continuously asking for more attention from you? Didn’t think so. He keeps himself in check for not talking too loudly, or doing anything in general that might piss off Billie.

After the affects wear off, Billie Joe realizes what just happened. No more methamphetamine. No more of those strong highs that make you believe you could do anything. He dissolves into tears.

His sobs echo around the room and Tré comforts him as best as he can. He’s fully aware that his right shoulder is drenched from Billie’s tears, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less. His husband is crying, and that’s all that really matters right now. He could never stand seeing Billie cry.

“It’s gone, Tré. It’s gone...” he cries into Tré’s shoulder.
“I know, baby. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you.”
“No, it won’t be okay.”

Tré really just doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for saying nothing. Tré holds Billie Joe in silence, except for the odd sob or sniffle from the latter man.

“Ready for bed?” Tré asks him.
“Sure.”

Tré’s mind returns to the pamphlet. He knows that Billie is still buzzed, and won’t really be sleeping or eating for days.

After they lay in bed, clad in only boxers, the silence was almost deafening. It was an awkward silence, and they hardly ever have those, and Tré wonders to himself when things became awkward between the two of them.

Punishment: Part Two

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 20:27:20 GMT

Punishment: Part Two-

Mike wondered what could possibly be wrong with his boyfriend. He was constantly messing up simple chords, which was something he hadn’t done since they were young and just starting out. So, Mike decides that it would be best to get his question out into the open.

“What’s up, Billie? You never mess up this much.”

Billie Joe sighs and rests Blue against the edge of Mike’s bed. He rubs his bleary eyes as he contemplates what he’s going to say to excuse his guitar playing.

“Just thinking,” he finally settles on.
“About what?” Mike asks, hoping that he’ll get somewhere.
“It’s nothing important,” he lies.

As he makes a move to pick up his abandoned instrument, he’s pulled back by his shoulders. Mike makes eye contact with Billie, before his gaze moves down to his cheek. It’s red, and looked as though someone had slapped him. As though someone had slapped him hard, and with bad intentions. He asked himself how he could have missed that before.

Now he was worried. Had someone touched his Billie?

He needs to know, so he gently grabs the bottom hem of Billie Joe’s shirt and lifts it up, exposing his stomach and some of his chest. His stomach is bruised, and Mike is now beyond pissed.

But, instead of showing his anger, he shows his concern for Billie, pulling the small boy into his lap. The elder of the two immediately begins to sob. Mike rocks him back and forth in an attempt to sooth him.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay...” he whispers to Billie as he cries on his shoulder. The arms that were thrown around Mike’s neck tense as the boy shakes his head as if to say that it really wasn’t okay.

“Who did this? Tell me what happened,” Mike commands softly.
“B-Brad...he t-tied me up, I couldn’t move. He gagged me, and th-then he...h-he fucked me, Mikey. I didn’t want it...” he sobs, the severity of the situation finally apparent to him. That he didn’t want it, but it happened anyway.

At last he registers that he was raped.

Mike’s breath hitches in his throat, and he wants nothing more than to go strangle Brad with his bare hands. But then he decides that murder plans could wait until later, and that his attention should all be on Billie.

“He did it ‘cuz I’m gay...” Billie Joe continued.
“That bastard,” Mike said quietly.
“Do you love me?”

Mike is taken aback by the boy’s random question. Billie Joe looks at his boyfriend, afraid that Brad was right, and that Mike really didn’t love him. That he was just a sex toy that was bound to be left by himself after he became boring.

“Of course I do, Billie. Who told you I didn’t?”
“He said that you’re just using me for sex.”

Even though no name was said directly, Mike knows who Billie’s talking about, and he had a pretty good idea before Billie even answered.

“You know that’s not true. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I love you too, Mike.”

They sit in silence, and Mike doesn’t know if it’s been minutes or hours that he’s been holding Billie Joe in his arms. He lazily runs a hand through Billie’s dark hair, savoring the moment. Billie snuggles up closer to Mike and sighs contently in his sleep. Mike smiles at the beautiful boy he gets the honor of calling his boyfriend, and slowly lies him and himself down on the bed, Billie still in his arms.

But the peace was soon broken. Not by anyone coming through the door, or the ringing of the phone, but by Mike’s own mind. Questions circled through his head, and he was feeling extremely overwhelmed and not to mention sick.

But two certain questions were the loudest in his mind.

Had Brad used protection, which Mike knew was very unlikely, and, if not...did he have an STD? And if he did, there was that chance that it had been passed on to Billie.

Mike asks himself if there’s such thing as a happy ending as he drifts off into a nightmare.

Punishment

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 05:08:03 GMT

This is what you get when I have the urge to write a random rape scene.

Punishment-

The ropes bit harshly into his skin. Normally, and especially if it was with Mike, the whole bondage thing would turn him on. He would be practically begging for more, putty in Mike’s skillful hands. He would be moaning out his lover’s name in pleasure. Not tonight. Tonight was different.

Tonight he feared what was to come, rather than anticipating it.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as his unsteady breathing echoed around the room. He shivered slightly from the cold air hitting his exposed skin. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under his blankets and pretend that this wasn’t happening. That his own step-father wasn’t going to violate him.

Billie Joe flinches as the door opens quickly and bangs against the wall. One of the first things he notices is the bag in Brad’s fist. He doesn’t want to even think about what tortures it could hold.

Brad slowly walks over to Billie and looks him over.

“Do you know why I’m doing this?” he growls.
“Because you’re a sick son of a bitch?” Billie Joe suggests, trying to be strong and keep his voice from wavering.

His retort earns him a fresh slap across the face.

“You know why. I saw you with Michael. I know about you two. I’ve seen you both kiss when you think no one’s looking. I know what you do when you stay over at his house. You like when he fucks you, Billie?”

Billie Joe isn’t given the chance to reply as Brad leans towards him, their faces just inches apart. The older man whispers to Billie.

“I can see why he wants you, though. So thin...so beautiful.”

He knows he’s in for trouble when he smells the alcohol on his breath. Strong alcohol, like a mixture of vodka and tequila.

“Mike doesn’t just want me...he loves me,” Billie Joe says, standing up for his boyfriend.
“Of course...” Brad mumbles, before closing the gap between them.

The kiss is rough and unwanted; unlike anything he’s had with Mike. He feels a tongue pressing at his lips, not asking for entrance but demanding it, and Billie Joe wasn’t giving it.

When Brad realized that he wasn’t going to get his way so easily, he handled the problem the only way he knew how; brute force. He pulls away and slams his closed fist down onto the boy’s stomach. Billie Joe yelps out in pain, and when he feels the tongue prodding again, he gives in and slowly opens his mouth.

Brad savors the taste of cigarettes in Billie’s mouth, moaning as he continued to forcefully kiss the boy. He reluctantly pulls away.

“Admit that you liked it, Billie. I know your little secret. ‘Bout you being gay...”
“I didn’t like it,” Billie Joe whimpers.

He gets another painful slap on the cheek. Brad all but rips off his own shirt and tosses it aside. His pants follow soon after. He watches in satisfaction as Billie’s eyes widen in fear.

“No...you can’t! Mike!” he screams.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up, bitch,” Brad hisses.
“Mike!”

Brad rolls his eyes in annoyance and reaches into the bag he’d brought in, pulling out something that made Billie Joe’s eyes grow impossibly wider.

“I warned you...” Brad says as he shoves the ball gag into the boy’s mouth.

Brad quickly removes his boxers, and Billie Joe just wants to vomit because this is not Mike about to fuck him, its family. Not direct family, but still family. An evil grin forms on Brad’s face. He moves up onto the bed, cock right before Billie’s face.

“If you want lube, you’ll suck,” he commands.

Billie Joe nods furiously, and Brad removes the ball gag so that it’s resting around Billie’s neck. Billie bites his lip nervously, because he most certainly does not want to suck off Brad, but on the other hand...no lube? He doesn’t want to go through that. So he opens his mouth and slowly inches towards Brad’s erection.

“Too slow,” Brad laughs, pulling away. “Guess that there’ll be no lube, then.”

Billie’s mouth hangs open in disbelief, just a bit, and Brad takes this as the opportunity to shove the gag back in. He positions himself at Billie’s entrance and enters without any warning.

Billie screams around the gag as best as he can. Mike might be big, but Brad was bigger, and with no preparation, this was probably the most painful thing Billie had ever experienced. Tears continued to spill down his cheeks as Brad mercilessly pounded into the unprepared boy.

His insides were on fire, and it was the most relieving feeling ever when he felt Brad’s cum pooling inside him. He pulls out, and smiles at the boy, removing the gag.

“So beautiful...” he says one last time before kissing Billie Joe on the lips and exiting the room.

The boy is still bound to the bed, and as he drifts off to sleep, he has nightmares of what just happened. When he awakes, he realizes that he’s been tied up for a good three hours, and looks down his body until he reaches his spread legs. He cranes his neck up, and gasps aloud as he sees the rusty color of blood stained on his sheets, mixed with a white substance.

He begins to cry again, just after he thinks he's ran out of tears, and prays to a god that he doesn't even believe in to help him.

Part Four of 'The Recovery'

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 05:04:06 GMT

Moving Down-

One week had passed, and Billie Joe found himself in the familiar armchair that sat in the corner of the cramped room. His therapist rambled on and on about how bad the meth was, Billie Joe occasionally nodding, even though he was paying the man no mind. It seemed as if his mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.

He was deep in thought, when a hand was waved directly before his face. Billie snapped out of his trance.

“What?” he asked dumbly.
“I asked you if you would tell me how you started using methamphetamine.”

Billie weighed his options. Should he tell this guy that he barely knows? His own husband doesn’t even know how he started. But, then again, he thinks that it would probably do some good to get it off his chest. So, he sighs and nods, the memory of that night flooding back to him, and he just wants to get this over as quickly as humanly possible...

He shivers from the cold as he approaches the house. One of his old buddies that he didn’t see much, Mark, had called him up earlier, asking him if he’d like to come over. It wasn’t too far of a walk. He said a quick ‘I love you. I’ll be back soon’ to his husband and had went out the door.

The door opens about ten seconds after he knocks, and Mark welcomes him into his home. Mark still looked about the same as he did in high school; dark brown hair that came down to his shoulders, a well-built body, and a pierced eyebrow. The air smelt suspicious. Billie Joe knew it was a drug of some sort, just not which one.

“Long time no see, Billie. Hey, I’ve got something to show you.”

Billie Joe thought nothing of it, following the other man downstairs. The basement was cold and damp. Billie could hardly see where he was going, and probably would have tripped down the stairs if Mark hadn’t flipped the light switch at the base of them.

“So...what is it you want to show me?” Billie Joe asked him, the curiosity evident in his voice.
“This,” Mark said excitedly. He held up a syringe.
“W-what’s in it?” His voice is shaking.
“Meth. You’ve never done it before? Here, hold out your arm...”

Mark reaches for Billie’s right arm, but Billie pulls away.

“What’s it feel like?” He scolds himself for being so interested in the drug.
“Like ten fucking orgasms at once. It’s awesome.”

He holds his arm out when a sudden though occurs to him.

“What about Tré?”
“Who?”
“Oh, right...you don’t know him. He’s my husband. He’d fucking kill me if he found out.”
“Come on, you weren’t called ‘Two Dollar Bill’ for nothin’ back in high school.”
“That was pot, not meth.”
“Just try it, man. You won’t regret it...”

Billie Joe sighed. Ten orgasms at once? That would be amazing...

“Gimme that thing,” he mumbled to Mark.

Said man smirked at the fact that he won the other man over, and hands him the syringe.

“That’s how it happened, okay?” Billie Joe spits angrily.
“Alright...I think I’ve got an idea.”
“And what’s that, genius?” Billie asks sarcastically.
“What we could do is move you down to less deadly drugs. Instead of using methamphetamine, we can go down to marijuana, and then we can stop at smoking.”
“You think it’s really going to work?”
“As long as you stay determined and don’t fall back onto the methamphetamine, it should. What do you say?”

He was about to disagree, because he needs his meth, but then sees Tré in his mind, proud of him for quitting. He wishes for a split second that he had no family, because that would be so much easier, but then mentally kicks himself for having such thoughts.

So instead, he nods.

The Right Guy

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 05:00:21 GMT

Just something I wrote quick at about one in the morning...

The Right Guy-

He knew that Rick was going to be a bad boyfriend from the start. He looked careless, and when he got angry, he really got angry. Mike had seen him on one such night. Billie Joe’s mom and step-dad were gone, so he had his boyfriend over. Mike joined them.

One little thing set Rick off, and he started yelling at Billie Joe, and threatening to hit him. Billie made eye contact with Mike, and somehow managed to silently tell him to leave. So, of course, he did.

The next day, Billie showed up with a black eye and numerous bruises on his arms.

“What happened?” Mike asked, even though he knew the answer.
“...I fell,” he lied.
“Bullshit. It was Rick, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he sighed.
“You’re with the wrong guy, Billie.”
“I know. But...who’s the right guy?”

Mike caught himself so close to screaming that he was the right guy. But he couldn’t, of course. How would he react if he knew Mike had liked him since that fateful day in the fifth grade? Would he dump Rick? Probably not. For dumping him, there was probably a huge payment.

During their seventh period class, Billie Joe and Mike were behind the school gymnasium, sharing a much need joint.

“You need a new boyfriend,” Mike says, shattering the uncomfortable silence that was between them.
“No, Rick’s fine. It was just last night that he was...mad.”
“Why’re you lying to me, Billie?”

Billie Joe takes a large drag on the joint, carefully considering his answer as he blows out the smoke. He answers as he passes the spliff to his friend.

“He says that he loves me,” Billie Joe said instead, ignoring Mike’s question all together.
“Do you believe him?”
“I have to...” Billie trailed off.
“He says he’ll kill me if I leave him.”
“He’s gonna kill you if you stay with him. Please, Billie...I really care about you.”
“I need to tell you-”

Before his whole sentence could get out in the open, the bell rang. Billie Joe sighed and turned to the other boy, saying that he would tell him later.

•••

Mike never saw Billie after school. He headed back to his house, expecting to see him waiting on the porch like he sometimes was, but he was nowhere in sight. He entered his house, and grabbed the phone from its cradle. He punched in Billie’s number, and then held the receiver up to his ear. It rang about five times, before Ollie’s voice could be heard on the answering machine.

Something was horribly wrong, here; Billie Joe always answered the phone.

“Maybe he’s not home yet...” he thought aloud to himself. Then another thought occurred.

Rick.

•••

He ran as fast as he could to Billie’s house, turning the six minute walk into a two minute run. He slowed his pace to a jog as he got to the porch steps. He knocked on the old door, and it swung open. Everything was off. He quickly searched the entire downstairs for Billie Joe, before heading up the stairs.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar and he opened it all the way to be met with the most horrifying thing he’d ever seen.

“Billie!” he cried. He tried to walk, but his legs just wouldn’t work and it was like they were frozen in place, so he dropped to his hands and knees, crawling over to Billie Joe. His pants were soaked in a crimson substance, and it took all the strength he had not to vomit once he realized what it was.

Mike sat cross-legged, and picked the dying boy up and set him in his lap. He had his right hand on the back of Billie’s neck in order to hold his head up straight.

“Mikey...”

Mike gasped as he heard his name, and looked down at the boy.

“Billie Joe...what happened?” he asked.
“You know...” he muttered.
“You’re gonna be okay, Billie. I’m just gonna go call an ambulance and-”
“Mike, no. There’s no hope for me,” he wheezed.

Mike sighed and looked the boy over, knowing it was true. His torso was basically black and blue, and there were deep cuts all over. He knew that there was the possibility of a few broken bones or ribs. And he had lost so much blood...death was probably coming soon.

“What I wanted to tell you earlier...”

He made eye contact with Billie Joe again.

“I...I love you...” he confessed.
“I love you, too.” His voice was shaking, and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to control it.
“Thought you were straight...”
“So did I.”
“Kiss me,” Billie Joe softly commanded, the pain to speak evident in his voice.

Now Mike was taken aback. Sure, they’d kissed before, but they were always drunk or high. But, right now he knew that the both of them wanted him to do this, so he leant forward and captured Billie’s lips with his. They moved together, and it was the most wonderful feeling that either of them had ever felt.

But, as always, wonderful things come to an end, and they pulled apart.

Billie Joe smiled and mumbled a small 'thank you' against Mike's chest as his world went black.

Mike never did find out what Billie Joe had done to deserve that.

Part Three of 'The Recovery'

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 00:52:00 GMT

The First Session-

Billie Joe drummed his fingers on his thigh nervously as the car made its way towards the destination. Let’s just say that he wasn’t too excited for his first drug therapy session. It was going to be one-on-one talking with, most likely, some old dude that thinks he knows anything and everything.

“Don’t look so down, Billie,” Tré said to him, his eyes still focused on the road.
“I don’t want to go. You’d make a better therapist,” he whines.
“Billie...I’m sorry, you need help.” His voice was quiet, causing Billie to strain to hear him.

He knows that the statement is true, but he sighs in annoyance anyway. Why couldn’t he just talk to Tré about his problems?

After much persuading, Billie Joe and Tré were sitting next to each other in the small waiting area. The therapist Tré had chosen was about to end a session with someone else. Soon, a young woman walked through the door leading to the rest of the building. In her hands was a clipboard.

“Billie Joe Armstrong,” she called. Tré looks up from the magazine he was skimming through and smiles to his husband.

“Good luck, Billie.”

Billie Joe tries to smile back, but he just can’t, because these bastards were going to take his meth away and he was fucking pissed beyond belief.

Regardless, he had to do this, if not for Tré and Aden then for himself, and he reluctantly follows the woman. She stops outside one of the doors at the end of the long hallway. She informs him that this is the room his therapist is in, so he reaches for the doorknob. He hesitates only once, but then turns it and pushes the door open.

The man looks up from what looked like some paperwork he was doing. He seemed to be in his fifties or so.

“Billie Joe, I’m Mr. Shultz,” he says with a tone so boring that Billie almost cringes in distaste. They shake hands, and the older man instructs Billie to sit in an armchair resting in the corner.

“I understand that you are using methamphetamine.”

A nod from Billie Joe.

“Do you know how dangerous it is?”
“Yeah.”
“So why do you use it?”
“I like the rush,” he says honestly.

Mr. Shultz scribbles down his response.

“Alright, now did you choose to come here yourself, or did someone convince you to?”
“My husband signed me up.”
“Okay, that’s an important detail. I can see from your arms that you inject the methamphetamine.”

Billie Joe rolled his eyes. This was going to be the longest hour he’d ever been through.

•••

That night, after the babysitter had been paid and Aden was sleeping, the couple crawled into bed.

“So how was he?” Tré asked, hoping that Billie would be more in the mood to answer now than he was in the car.
“He was a fucking idiot, okay?”
“Billie...”
“Seriously, Tré. You didn’t hear him. He was basically that counselor guy from South Park.”

Tré smiles at how his husband describes the man.

“Tré?”
“Yeah, Billie?”
“Do I have to go next week?”
“I would like you to.”
“Manipulative bastard...” Billie mumbles before falling asleep.

His sleep is not a pleasant one. It’s filled with syringes, the tips of the needles glinting, even when it seemed pitch black. It was seemingly calling him, daring him to inject himself. He sees the needle break through the paper-thin skin of his arm and enter his vein. He awoke at about two in the morning. He was shivering, despite the sweat rolling down the sides of his face.

He desperately needs the meth, and he knows it. He wishes Tré never found the drug in his jacket pocket; he would’ve used it right now. Billie Joe actually considers leaving the house and visiting his usual dealer. But he knows he won’t.

He can’t do that to them.

My Billie Joe/Marilyn Manson story

Tue, 08 Aug 2006 00:42:25 GMT

In case you don't know what Marilyn Manson looks like...

Marilyn Manson

Or maybe even Billie Joe...

Billie Joe Armstrong

Love is Never Wrong-

*Marilyn’s POV*

I watch him as he puts all he’s got into the concert. From backstage, I see the sweat dripping down his face. It’s inspiring how much he’ll go through for his fans.

Even if most of the time we get some weird looks, or middle fingers, depending on the person, it’s worth it. I was already used to that before we even got together. Almost all of the previous Green Day and Marilyn Manson fans stayed with us. To be honest, I couldn’t care less if all of them left us. I love him.

Yeah, badass Manson’s got a soft spot. Sue me. Just thinking of Billie Joe puts a smile on my face.

With my childhood, I’d been thinking that no one really cared about me. Then he came along.

I can still recall some reporter bitch asking me if I was in this relationship to say that I’m sleeping with him. I mean, the sex is incredible, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the afterglow that amazes me.

When the moaning comes to a halt and our groping hands rest still. When we can just lie together and shut the rest of the world out. That’s my favorite time.

The final chords are struck, and he runs as quickly as he can to me. And he can run pretty damn fast when he wants to.

He stops when he reaches me and wraps his arms around my neck. His lips are warm against my skin, and I shiver at the sensation.

“I missed you,” he muttered.
“You were on stage for a couple hours,” I point out.
“Way too long,” he comments. “I love you.
“You too,” I smile.

*Billie Joe’s POV*

I sigh happily and run my fingers through his currently short black hair. I smile to myself as I think of how lucky I am to have this man in my life.

But...sometimes the whole gay relationship gets to be a bit too much. I always look to Mike and Brittney as an example, which I know I should stop doing. But I can’t help wondering some things. Why are they seen as a normal couple? They love each other, and we love each other. Isn’t that good enough?

I know he doesn’t care what other people think, and I try not to either.

•••

He finds Billie Joe later on the balcony in their hotel room. If it hadn’t been for the railing, Billie would’ve probably been on the ground by now due to how much alcohol he’d consumed.

He held a half-empty whiskey in one hand, he didn’t know if that was his fifth or sixth, and a Marlboro in the other.

After snaking his arms around him, Marilyn whispers in his ear, “I was waiting for you at the bar with the others. Ya never showed up, though. Why’re you getting wasted by yourself? No fun...” he mutters the last bit as he slowly slides the Jack Daniel’s from Billie Joe’s hand and takes a swig.

“I was just thinking,” he explains softly to his boyfriend. His words were slurred, but they get across.

“Hmm...you’re quiet. I was just talking to Tré, actually. We both think that you seem...different ever since Brittany came on tour. Not jealous of her, I hope.”

“Why can’t people think that we’re normal? We’re not seen as the right kind of couple. I can’t stand it, Brian. I can’t,” he says, calling his boyfriend by his real name.

He can feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and he angrily wipes them away while taking a drag on the cigarette. The nicotine fills his lungs, and shortly after he releases it.

“Does it feel right?” he asks.

“Well...yeah. But people don’t think we are,” he says to him, avoiding eye contact.

“Fuck society. Just try to make yourself happy, not them. It’s not wrong, babe; it’s love...”
“...and love is never wrong,” Billie Joe finishes, smiling.

That was what Brian had said to Billie Joe when their feelings were confessed.

Marilyn was smiling, too; Billie Joe felt it against his neck. That’s when he realized that he was right. Fuck what they say. They can stare, point, laugh, or yell, whatever. He didn’t care anymore. He has Brian, and that’s all he really needs.

Part Two of 'The Recovery'

Mon, 07 Aug 2006 21:32:39 GMT

Drug Therapy-

Don’t buy anymore. That couldn’t be possible...

“I’m going out for a while,” Billie Joe says quietly.
“If you buy anymore...” his husband warns.
“I’m just taking a walk. I promise, Tré,” he says while crossing his fingers behind his back.
“Alright...I love you.”
“I love you, too.”

•••

So maybe he lied, but he didn’t get his dose, and he knew he needed it. He held his jacket closer to himself, shivering from the lack of heat.

He passed the familiar run-down apartments until he got to the dark alleyway he’d grown so accustomed to these past few months.

Once he stepped in, a low voice called out to him.

“Back again, Billie?”
“Yeah,” he nods.
“The usual?”
“Hmm...let’s try powder this time.”
“No problem.”

He leaves, and Billie always wondered what was beyond that door at the end of the alley. “Heaven...” he mutters to himself. He almost audibly sighs in relief when the dealer comes back into view.

“Here ‘ya go. That’ll be two hundred and thirty-five dollars,” he says to the other man while handing him a Ziploc bag filled with a flour-like substance.

Billie Joe took out his wallet and pulled out various bills until he had the proper amount.

“Hope to see you soon, BJ.”
“Same,” he says back to him.

•••

The house was dark when he returned, and Billie Joe opened and closed the front door as quietly as he could manage.

He patted his jacket pocket lightly to ensure the baggy was still inside before hanging his jacket up on the coat rack. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Before going to bed, Billie made a quick stop in his son’s room. He peered over the side of the crib and stared silently at the sleeping baby.

“I’m sorry, Aden. We’ll get you into college, I promise,” he whispered to the boy.

After stripping down and throwing some sweatpants on, he clambered into bed. He cuddled up close to his husband and sighed, praying for sleep to come.

“That was a pretty long walk, don’t you think?” a familiar voice asked him.

He jumped slightly in surprise, thinking that Tré had been asleep. Said man rolled over to face Billie Joe.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in response.
“You bought more, didn’t you?”

It was more of a statement than a question. Just as he was about to deny it, he realized something; he can’t keep lying to his spouse. Lies were only going to ruin their marriage.

So instead, he nodded his head slowly, his eyes filled with guilt and shame.

Tré went from outraged to disappointed in about two seconds flat. Billie mumbled an apology as he rested his head on the older man’s chest.

“I got you a drug therapist while you were out. Your first session is tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“You need to admit that you have a problem, Billie. It’s a problem that I don’t know how to help you with.”
“Tré, I need it.”
“Billie Joe, you were living just fine before you started using methamphetamine. I’m worried about you. What if you OD?”

Billie Joe looked away, defeated.

"Alright, I'll go."

Part One of 'The Recovery'

Sat, 05 Aug 2006 18:26:49 GMT