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Hi.

Just wanted to let you know, I may be kinda abscent, more than usual to say at least...and, maybe my replies will be quite short or vague, so please be patient if I'm not answering, and forgive me if I seem a bit too cold with you guys when I do, I just, well, feel kinda down in the dumps.

Destroyed if I must admit.

André and I, after quite a while of fighting non-stop, finally put an end to it. I think we both wanted it, I more than he did, but he asked me to do it as he felt he couldn't do it himself. 

Before anyone explodes, I'll clarify that the worst he did was to love me.
He did nothing wrong.

He loved me unconditionally, and was loyal, caring, gave me good morning every now and then, took care of me, even became obsessed (which was wrong, but he soon worked on it). And I didn't love him back like that. I was loyal a hundred percent, and I was caring and made sure he was happy.
But I wasn't loving enough. Have never been.

It's not in me to hug, or kiss, or fill with pretty words everyday somebody's day. I can't say I Love You, he was the only person I could say it to. I'm...I don't know how to treat people. And not treating him like he needed, finally got to him, and broke him down. And he still tried to carry on.

But I was tired of hurting him. Hurting him was having fights, and having fights was hurting both of us. So it's both a selfish and a non-selfish thing; not wanting to hurt him, and not wanting to carry the guilt and pain of hurting him on me anymore.

We've been fighting and both want to have the reason on everything. We've said foolish stuff to each other. Being a person drowned in the art of words, I can be especially cruel with my usage of them when I want, and when I'm not thinking.
We could not understand each other.

I had thought from some days ago to tell him, ask him for it...he...needed too much love, and I give too little. He was too sun, I am too moon; he was too summer, and I am too winter. One thing is to be each other's complement; another thing is to be eternally opposite sides. We're not two faces of one single coin; we're like sun and moon, we both exist but we can't work at the same time.

...

I broke him up. I was the one who broke his heart. He did not break mine. He did nothing to me. Nothing but love me, like we all should do. Like it should be. 
I'm brokenhearted for him being brokenhearted. 
I'm brokenhearted because he's the most beautiful person to treat me in the romantic aspect. First to not make me cry at the end for HIS selfish reasons.

I wanted to say how it was, the moment, but I think I'll edit it tomorrow and say it (as I take these as some kind of personal journal to come back and see memories), but today, I feel...I can't stand more of this day.

God. My head's never hurt like this.

(truth is, I don't need pretty words. I'll feel guilty when I won't know how to reply to them. I kinda want a hug. Tight. Long)

Activity


Hi.

Just wanted to let you know, I may be kinda abscent, more than usual to say at least...and, maybe my replies will be quite short or vague, so please be patient if I'm not answering, and forgive me if I seem a bit too cold with you guys when I do, I just, well, feel kinda down in the dumps.

Destroyed if I must admit.

André and I, after quite a while of fighting non-stop, finally put an end to it. I think we both wanted it, I more than he did, but he asked me to do it as he felt he couldn't do it himself. 

Before anyone explodes, I'll clarify that the worst he did was to love me.
He did nothing wrong.

He loved me unconditionally, and was loyal, caring, gave me good morning every now and then, took care of me, even became obsessed (which was wrong, but he soon worked on it). And I didn't love him back like that. I was loyal a hundred percent, and I was caring and made sure he was happy.
But I wasn't loving enough. Have never been.

It's not in me to hug, or kiss, or fill with pretty words everyday somebody's day. I can't say I Love You, he was the only person I could say it to. I'm...I don't know how to treat people. And not treating him like he needed, finally got to him, and broke him down. And he still tried to carry on.

But I was tired of hurting him. Hurting him was having fights, and having fights was hurting both of us. So it's both a selfish and a non-selfish thing; not wanting to hurt him, and not wanting to carry the guilt and pain of hurting him on me anymore.

We've been fighting and both want to have the reason on everything. We've said foolish stuff to each other. Being a person drowned in the art of words, I can be especially cruel with my usage of them when I want, and when I'm not thinking.
We could not understand each other.

I had thought from some days ago to tell him, ask him for it...he...needed too much love, and I give too little. He was too sun, I am too moon; he was too summer, and I am too winter. One thing is to be each other's complement; another thing is to be eternally opposite sides. We're not two faces of one single coin; we're like sun and moon, we both exist but we can't work at the same time.

...

I broke him up. I was the one who broke his heart. He did not break mine. He did nothing to me. Nothing but love me, like we all should do. Like it should be. 
I'm brokenhearted for him being brokenhearted. 
I'm brokenhearted because he's the most beautiful person to treat me in the romantic aspect. First to not make me cry at the end for HIS selfish reasons.

I wanted to say how it was, the moment, but I think I'll edit it tomorrow and say it (as I take these as some kind of personal journal to come back and see memories), but today, I feel...I can't stand more of this day.

God. My head's never hurt like this.

(truth is, I don't need pretty words. I'll feel guilty when I won't know how to reply to them. I kinda want a hug. Tight. Long)
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: nudity and sexual themes)
“Angie, Angie; calm the heck down, okay?”

She was crazy, totally out of any mental sanity that could be healthy for any human or living being out there. It was not normal. She was nuts. She was mad. She was obsessed.

When I first met her, she seemed like the most adorable girl out there. Brown hair, sweet greenish hazel eyes, a cute grin, and an adorable giggle, a delicious waist and hips without going to exaggeration, and relatively a girl that did not go unseen but not as the room’s focus either, still staying sexy and cute, all in one. She was a year older than me. My height, but nothing impressive as I had always been short for an average American man. She was an amazing girl who had majored with the best notes of her generation in Law stuff; smart, intelligent, she was caring and had a passion for playful dogs. She cooked the best pancakes ever, and she knew quite what she did in bed if I had to be honest.

She had to be perfect, the girl everybody would melt and kill for. Her name, Angelica.

Dear lord, I wanted to never hear the name again in my life, and it was constantly there; in the morning, in my cell phone, in my ears, on my mind, in my evenings and nights, it was there in every corner of every room I walked in, it was harassing me closely and never staying an inch away and leaving my thoughts alone for a moment, and oh my god, she was driving me to total madness. I had to admit that I did fall for her in its moment; melted for her, blushed for her, gave my best for and with her, and we shared an amazing couple of months as partners. It had been a wonderful seven months of the perfect mixture and balance between affection, sex, and friendship…until her problem really turned into a serious matter. Her problem was not that she did not love me anymore. Oh, dear lord, how much I wished for her to hate me, to despise me, to spit on me, to leave me and kick me. No, no, that was not the case. Her problem was that she was obsessed with me.

I don’t know if I made such an amazing job as a boyfriend that it went far to the limits where it was excess and became unhealthy, or maybe if I was not enough and therefore she unconsciously became extremely obsessed in a desperate attempt to find something good in me, I have no idea, but thing is, she eventually developed a huge sensation that I belonged to her, that I was more of an object she owned or won more than a person she had to share her life with. It started out with small details that I either ignored or let be thinking it was no big deal; questioning me, a bit of jealousy, the normal kind of stuff to go through in a relationship. Eventually, the shy and subtle questioning that would make me smile and cuddle her to hug the fear and jealousy away turned to more direct questions and less shyness. And with time, the blushing and shy “Well, I was…uhm…wondering, you know…I-I mean…” turned to a frown and a cold, rough “Who is she?”.

It was like I was knowing a different person, one that had become an ugly witch of anger when she got jealous for any or other reason. I mean, at first it could be reasonable, like, some girl harassing me or me talking too much and too weirdly to another girl (even though I never had bad intentions with Angie). But it turned to something sick where just the vague mention of another girl made her go nuts, angry, and almost literally harming me either physically or verbally our of rage because of fucking jealousy. It was not normal. It was simply not normal.

“Billie Joe, I’m fucking hearing voices in the background, who the hell are you with!?”

“Angie, goddamn, I’m hanging with the guys, for heaven’s sake!” I exclaimed to the phone while covering my other ear with a hand to shush a bit the music blasting from the stereo. “I freaking told you I was coming to this party, I-”
“Are there any girls in there?” she questioned roughly. “Are you with a girl, Billie Joe?”
“Wha- you know I’m not with a girl, Angie!” I yelled. “And yes, there are girls in here, it’s a fucking party, bu-”
“You forgot to mention that when you told me you wanted to go” she replied with anger and a bit passive-aggressively, and I could almost picture her psycho stare on me, eyes open wide and pupils entirely locked on me, lips pressed thin and eyebrows raised up. “I want you home right fucking now, Billie Joe Armstrong”

“You can’t do this to me, babe, I wa-”
“You want what? You wanna fuck those girls? You wanna have fun with them?” she snapped at me, and even though I kept trying to insist and prove my freaking point, she kept going and interrupting without even giving me a chance to speak in the first place. “How many girls are there, Billie Joe? Do you know any of them? Are you drinking?”
“Angie, don’t go fucking nuts on me, I don’t even know any of them!” I threw my free arm up, totally tired of having to go through another of these fights.
“And is that going to stop you from staring at those titties? I think no” she spat back, and I just sighed and hit my forehead on a wall; it had been three months like that almost daily, I was going insane and totally nuts.

And I could not just break her up because she freaking broke down when I tried and she just tied me to her. I was not in a relationship anymore, I was prisoner of a girl obsessed with me. I did not enjoy our relationship anymore, I had totally grown despising her, any sight of love or crush on her from me was entirely gone, and I could not stand a single freaking moment just thinking of her. It made me sick, it made me shiver, and it was simply driving me mad in the head. I was not a boyfriend, I was not a friend, I was not even an acquaintance; I was a prisoner.
I was the slave of a psycho.

“Who’s that girl, Billie?”
“Why did that chick know your name!?”
“Are you staring at those girls? Eyes on me, asshole, eyes on me”
“Is that girl your type? Is her? Fucking dare on replying and you’re dead”
“I don’t want you to be friends with her anymore”
“She’s a fucking whore; no, I don’t care if that’s your best friend, I am your girlfriend”
“Who the fuck is she?”
“And you want me to believe that chick you were hugging is your sister? I’m not dumb, you, jerk”

It was insane.

I could have no single bond with any single girl out there in the world because it was automatically cheating, and that included my mom and my sisters and my cousins. Holy cow, if I had a daughter, she would count her as well. If I was anywhere at less than twenty meters from a girl, Angie went nuts and I was forced to get away as soon as possible.
She did it all to put me apart of all the girls of the world.


“Hey, Billie” my best friend Gerard greeted me with a happy and very adorable, innocent-looking grin on his pale face as he opened the door of his apartment after just some seconds since I knocked. His shortish-long black hair looked recently brushed, despite it not really being as helpful to the mess it looked like. It fitted him, though; a messed order, or a disordered mess. I gave him a smile and put a hand on his face to push him back inside his cave, earning a tiny groan and a laugh from him.
“Yo! What’s up, you, dumbass?” I greeted as I walked in like it was my own home, closing the door behind myself. “How’re you doing with the game?”

“It’s fucking impossible to get through level thirty five” he replied as he dropped his round butt on the sofa, taking the controller once again and de-pausing the game to get back on it. I went straight to the fridge and got a can of coke as I heard him go onto the game, along the explosions and some swords cutting the air. With the can on my hand, I got closer and dropped myself at his side, watching him focus strongly on the game like his life depended on it. I spent some seconds just like that.
“Hey, he’s gonna kill you if you keep going straight, y’know?” I told him calmly before taking a sip of the coke, while he kept pushing the B button and kept going. “Dude”

“I heard you, I just-” was all he managed to say before he dropped his head along a heavy sigh, as the Game Over sign and music appeared on screen. I laughed softly and shortly.
“You’re meant to press A when the thing warns you” I pointed out watching him as he turned off the console and put the controller on the small table in the middle of the tiny living room, dropping back on the couch and resting his head back. “He’s got a fucking metal armor, you can’t just hit him with B”
“I know, it’s just, I just start to panic when he pops out of fucking nowhere, and I just-” he growled-sighed, only earning another small laugh from me. “Oh man, it’s driving me nuts”

I laughed once again, and once he chuckled back with me, I smiled with warmth at him and placed a hand on his knee.
“How’ve you been, Gee?” I asked him in a friendly voice, still, seeing as he shifted a bit on the sofa to look better at me, bringing his knees up, turning to a side, and resting an elbow on the back of the couch for his hand to stand his head.
“Alright” he replied with a cute smile, scratching a bit his own head. “You?”
“Doing great” I shrugged a bit my left shoulder. “I-”

My cell phone rang. I sighed and closed my eyes, counting to ten in my head as slow as I managed to do (which was kind of funny, seen as if I had not been about to explode, because it sounded in my head more like; onetwhreeourfive six seven, eight, nine….), already knowing what the hell that meant. Controlling myself way much better than anyone else in the world can do in the most frustrating and annoying situations ever, I took my cell phone from my pocket and answered it.
“…’ello?”
“Hi, Billie” the sweet, oh so fucking sweet (onetwhreeourfive six seven, eight, nine….) voice of my so adorable girlfriend ringed from the other side of the line. “Where are you, sweetie?”
“I told you, Angie” I sighed trying not to snap out at her. “I came to New St. here on Belleville and-“

“Ah, so you’re visiting someone” she snapped out in her psycho-detective-judge voice, and I just rolled my eyes. “I hear someone in the background” she snapped again, and I just shook my head no, frowning like in disgust more than in anger; gosh, Gerard did not do a single sound, this was just an excuse. “Who is it, Billie?” she did not even give me a chance to reply. “Is that a girl? Is that that Jenny or whatever that whore called herself?” I tried to reply again. “I swear to God, Billie Joe, that if you’re with that slut, I-”

“Dear Lord, Angelica, it’s just Gerard!” I exclaimed to the phone, still holding it to my ear and almost literally feeling the taste of shit in my tongue from just hearing her psycho jealousy.
“Ah, it’s Gerard” she softened all the way down, like nothing had happened or like she had not even called at all. “Then that’s okay”
“Geez…”
“You guys have fun! Love ya” she said as a goodbye in a very sweet voice, and gifted me a kiss through the line. I just pressed my lips in a thin line and furrowed my eyebrows.
“Yeah” was all that I replied, and with a last giggle from her, I hung up. She did not even mind I did not say it back, she only forced me to it if I was hanging in a place where there could be any girls nearby, whether they were talking to me or just walking by. Crazy.

I sighed and shook my head. I turned to look at my best friend, who gave me a worried look and a sympathetic smile.
“You really must be suffering being chained to that kind of relationship” he said softly and gently, just like the reflection of his whole being in general. “…kinda worries me how that could end up”
“Eh” I smirked and shrugged, not showing interest at all. “Getting used. And I’m staying sane so that’s what counts, y’know?” he smiled as an answer, and I just sighed and leaned closer to the table and placed there the can of coke. “Anyway” I changed the subject. I turned off my phone and turned to look at him, gifting him a smile. “Won’t let this bother us again” I put the device on the table, and returned to the sofa, this time shifting to sit closer to him, placing a hand on his thigh.

He did not push me back. Instead, his cheeks turned a soft shade of an adorable and very awkward pink as he stared down, aware that his paleness did not help him hide his blushes, and played with a lock of his hair. I smiled softly at him and caressed his leg slowly, with affection.
“...I missed you” I returned to where we left the whole thing before the interruption. Gerard looked up at me and rested the side of his head on the back of the sofa. My smile turned shier and my cheeks flushed slightly in red; gosh, was he adorable.
“I missed you too” he replied softly, before he moved his fragile hands up and entwined his fingers behind my nape. He pulled me closer as he leaned in as well, until our foreheads rested onto one another. “Been kinda lonely since Wednesday, you know?”
“Me too” I replied in a whisper, wrapping my arms slightly around him, closing my eyes and softly skimo-kissing him. I contained a sigh in my chest. “Thank god it’s Friday”

I opened my eyes again just to offer him a small smile, which he returned, but we got back to business and we both closed out eyes again. This time, we leaned closer and our lips collided carefully but not slowly. He wrapped his arms around my neck as we shared a long-lasting kiss. He had a passion for my lower lip, so I focused on tasting his upper one over and over. I felt the warmth of his lips, the softness of them, the slippery surface they became as the kiss grew longer with every passing second. We kept kissing for some more moments, and after a while, we broke apart. We shared a glance where the galaxy connected in an unbreakable bond. Comets and meteors rained down softly like magic between our eyes, and my heart and mind found peace in them.

“I love you, Gee” I told him softly, and his lips turned into a smile but extremely sincere curve as he looked at me in what could only be tagged as Love, reflection of my own stare locked on him.
“I love you, BeeJ” he said back. I smiled at him and moved closer to hug him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He hugged me back and held me tightly, closely, putting all the broken pieces back where they belonged, and kissed my head. Once we spent a while like that, I broke apart. His hands moved to my waist, while one of mine stayed on his hip while the other moved up to his chin. I made him look at me, and brought him closer. His pale cheeks returned to the red color as we kissed once again. We held each other as our jaws moved, grinding against one another.

We kept going, and after some moments of the thing slowly tensing up, I sucked on his lower lip. He kept a quiet groan in his throat as I did; all of his skin was sensitive, so his lips were a very sensible thing on him, and therefore, his weakness. His hands moved from my waist to my back, gripping my jacket lightly. We continued kissing and one of my hands caressed his thigh, while the other was back on his head, buried in among his dark hair. He brought me closer and poked my upper lip with his tongue. Opening wide, our mouths connected for our tongues to meet in a wrestle battle, at first slow and sensual, until things heated up a bit too much for us. Half a minute passed and our tongues kept going, faster, heavier. I kept a moan in my throat after a whole minute like that, and felt his hands moving to my face to hold it carefully, bringing me closer. My hands moved to his waist and stayed there, and as we were breaking apart from the kiss, he, without warning, bit down on my lower lip.

Low hit.

After that, I shivered and groaned lightly. He triggered it, so I held him by his slender waist and pulled him up to my lap. He straddled me without complaining and pressed his crotch onto mine, making both of us moan with our lips still rubbing against each other. He kept his hands on my face as mine moved behind him and laid softly on his nice, round, firm and glorious ass. I swear to the heavens, no one, no one ever, not even a girl, not even Angie, had such a magnificent butt like this; and it was not that it was giant or something, no. It was just so pretty and perfectly shaped size or firmness did not even matter. He was a bit insecure of his body, because he was not the thinnest or lightest or best shaped, but to me, he was all of that, and even if not really, he was plain beautiful. From perfect to beautiful, I preferred beautiful, and that was him.

I gripped his lovely pair of cheeks and earned a soft moan from him as his lips attached to mine once again, pressing himself to me. He knew I liked it, so as we kissed, he pulled from my hair a bit roughly but still being gentle like he always was (how was it he managed to do it that way and make it work, I had no idea), pulling my head back and making me moan and shiver, as he moved down to eat my jaw and neck. As he did and I hissed from pleasure, I gripped his ass once again, and he bucked his hips against mine. I placed my hands on his hips and he and I worked on synchronicity to grind our crotches onto one another, hardly and steady but slowly. We focused on it a bit, both of us groaning from time to time, before we tugged at one another once again and started kissing almost with desperation.

Tongues and lips were drowned in a tangled mess as our bodies grinded against one another, and soon enough, I removed his jacket from his body, and he started taking mine off, roughly, like I had done to his, without breaking the kiss and as he rode my lap with that kind of moving only he knew how to do, like we were already in the act. After some more heating up, he broke apart from the kiss. I complained a bit and whimpered, making him laugh softly. I smiled at his adorable laugh as I started fidgeting with his belt. As I worked on it and stripped it from his pants, he leaned closer to me and pecked lovingly my cheek and jaw until he reached my ear, like an adorable kitten.
“Hey, BeeJ?” he called in a whisper, smiling cutely against my ear.
“Hm?” I replied as I worked on stripping him.
“Remember we went to that one store the other day and we saw some weird stuff and all?” he asked me and bit his lower lip as he did like containing a giggle, though I could not see it. It wasn’t needed, really, when I knew him as well as I did.

“Uh, huh?” I asked once I was done with the button of his pants, but before I could really pull anything down, I froze and all my face turned red as I heard him whispering in my ear. My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat. “You bought what!?” he broke apart and started laughing softly and cutely, shrugging a bit his shoulders. Dear lord, he was adorable, but a sexy machine of dirtiness at the same time. I looked up at him, with him still straddling me, and I could feel my ears and cheeks burning. “Really?”
“Ah, hah” he nodded happily with a look on his face that almost made him look innocent and like he had not gone back to that store and actually had bought something there. “Wanna try it?”
“You’re asking if I-” I started questioning him, and just sighed loudly and shortly, staring away and unable to stop my eyes from staying open wide. He giggled at me. “Honey, if I ever say No to something like that, I want you to shot me in the head, seriously”

He laughed and slapped my shoulder, before he got up from the sofa and gave me a last look before he hurried to the bedroom. Hypnotized, I followed behind him and caught up with him just a few steps from the door. I wrapped my arms around his waist by surprise, earning a yelp from him as I took him and tackled/threw him to his warm and cozy bed, laughing a bit as I climbed on top of him. I reached for his face and pressed pecks all over it in a playful way, kissing all around his face as he giggled and hugged me.

He was all I looked for. He was my best friend, and my confident. He was my amazing partner, he was a whole universe to me.
He was my beloved boyfriend.

Clothes flew around the air and landed anywhere on his room, ignored, useless, and just being an obstacle. The air went thick with the smell of sex as the heat increased with an intensifying passion, along the crescent love that needed to words to be described. The bed squeaked if there was a heavy or rough movement on it, and it did never really tend to be quiet when we were on it; that day was no exception. Fingernails and pores met; skin grinded against skin; sweat rolled down our bodies. Moaning and screaming from both sides filled the silence, and so did the collision of our skins, faster and faster.

Minutes and minutes passed by with both of us busy in there. Sweating pretty badly, Gerard moaned in screams as his point was hit non-stop, the head thrown onto my shoulder and the back really arched as my fist pumped on his intimacy and my hips hit his fast, deep. He had asked for more speed, but as I pleased his wishes, he really could not speak anymore to give me any other instructions, so I just kept going faster, and faster as he liked it, until he could not keep it in anymore and exploded in my hand and the bedsheets. He allowed me to do it inside, so once he was done, I wrapped my arms around his slender waist tightly, now focusing on me as he was done, and kept going, faster, faster, until I exploded as well.

He was careful and gentle, and he was the shiest and most adorable comic-worm there could exist. He was caring and loving, and he was tender and frail. He was a manly man of girly manners, and his grin was more than perfect, despite him not liking it a hundred percent. He was talented and skilled, he was born an artist, and he was the kindest person I had ever known.

Lying side to side, our respirations calmed down as silence filled the room once again. Our hands found one another, and soon enough did our hearts. Sweat disappeared, heartbeat slowed to a steady, normal pace. We laid together in a mess of tangled limbs, and we kissed each other softly, very softly and innocently, like the first kiss of a kindergartener. We spent a while like that. We started talking. We started joking. We cuddled.
This was no first time.

We took a shower, no sex this time. Shared more conversation and time together. I did not want to leave for the night, so I phoned Angelica to tell her I was not getting back to my house that day. She raged out for a moment until I told her I was staying with Gerard
She had no single trouble with it.

Sleeping was something I adored. Sleeping with the man I loved in my arms, and sleeping in the arms of the man I loved was something I would kill for. We cuddled and kissed. Slept together, cutely hugged, cozy and warm.

I found out during the time I was with Angelica at the same time her psycho side showed; I found out as I was forbid from seeing any girl and spent more of my time with my childhood best friend; I found out when her psycho side was driving me insane, and the sanity was saved by only one man; I found out when I, chained and trapped, slave and prisoner, was free when I looked at those eyes. I found out why it really did never work entirely for me with a girl, Angie or not.
I found out why it tickled when I looked at him.
I found out why I wanted so badly to die for him if he needed me to.

Angie was so psycho over me being with other girls, that she never realized it would really do no harm to either of us, seeing as I found out I was gay.
Billierard - Psycho
A year and some months ago, a close friend of mine had this psycho girlfriend. She was jealous of me, and wished death upon me, swore to beat the heck outta me when she'd of see me, went nuts.
I was deeply crushing on a girl back then. :rofl:

So it made me think that it's curious, how she could go entirely psycho from him being friends with a girl that only saw him at school, than from the male childhood entirely absolutely bestest best friend who spent nights over at his and hung out with him all alone.

Funny how we assume from the beginning everyone's straight.

(I should be studing)
(Fml)
(I Regreat Nothing)
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I need your help, sweet little pies. :saddummy:

I didn't want to, but my family's made me go for presenting the exam to a university. Not just any university, that's not the problem. Problem is, it's THE university.

The best of all of Latinamerica, 56th best in the whole freaking world, the one where all but one presidents of all the countries of Latinamerica majored in, IAMNOTPREPARED I AM CLEARLY NOT PREPARED.

I mean, I'd of have been prepared if I had WANTED to apply there, and if they had forced me at least 6 months ago or something, not one month before the exam. Now I've got only 28 fucking days to study 10 subjects to get at least 90 out of 120 answers correctly. I am not going to study 10 subjects that everybody else studied along three years in just 28 days! 

It'd of have been easier if I hadn't joined an art high school. I mean, I still had biology, geography, still have math and such, but we get much more and better prepared and we focus much more on preparing for an art university than a 'normal' one, so we don't focus as strongly in math and physics and such as other schools.

AND THERE'S THE FUCKING PROBLEM.

I applied for god knows what in literature kind of thing, but thing is, MANY PEOPLE WANT IT. Many people want it, they all come from schools that focused on preparing them for this exam, and they ain't accepting everyone, you know that? They won't care if I know how to go counterpoint and harmony and Mauro Giuliani, I just have to do math and chemistry shit correctly or I'm a worthless bag filled of poo.

Thing is, you may be wondering "Dude, you didn't even and maybe still don't want to apply there, why the worry?"

Well, mate, SELF ESTEEM AND GLORY AND FAMILY HONOR IS IN THE GAME.

No, but seriously. If I apply there and don't make it, I'll be the subject to negatively treat in my family for the following decade. Why? 1) I've never shown any talent they find worth 2) My brother made it, so I'm under his shadow.

I'm fearing because, even though I'm not fully explaining reasons and all, it's going to affect my self-esteem pretty much directly and quite roughly. I...well, didn't want to say it like this, but lately self-esteem's been a problem. In previous journals I've mentioned how it's not a problem and that I'm dealing fine with it, but truth is, I'm not. At least not recently.

And it's scaring me, I hadn't gotten as bad in self-esteem since 2012. 

I'm studying as I can, get sad and leave it, then try again, and get bored, and so onand on. But thing is, I wake up at 5, and don't come back until 7 or 6:30 in the afternoon (due to school and time wasted in public transport), then there's homework and shit for school gigs for different subjects and the written exams of non-artistic classes and such. When I can and there's no school the following day, I've fallen dead in my bed 13 hours. I'm tired, I'm stressed, I'm dealing with shit home, and with myself, and to make it better, with André as well.

I need your positive vibes.

I know it sounds like mysthic and magical bullshit that works for nothing, but if you, even if it's a lie and stuff, just need to know you're thinking I'm gonna make it greatly and will be rubbing my success in my family's faces laughing and eating lemon ice-cream. And really believing it, god damn it, that's how fucking vibes are meant to work.

Listen, I just want you to wake up on May 30th, and be like "Yoooo! Today's Idunno09's exam for uni! Holy shit, she must be peeing herself in her pants. Any or other way, I believe she's gonna make it. I believe in her, I know she's gonna make it! She's gonna do great! She's gonna do great!" then smile and get excited for a minute or half a minute thinking of it, then get distracted and go back to your own stuff.

I just, ohmygod, I believe in no God, so I don't know who to pray to and who to blame, so I just need some fake fantastic bullshit to believe in and give me strength pschologically, so I need to believe in those vibes and I need people to send them ohmygod o(╥﹏╥)o

Dear fucking lord, I'm a dumbass, I ain't making it :iconlazyrollplz:
  • Mood: Mortified
  • Eating: Overdosing on tamales
  • Drinking: Overdosing on coca cola
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes, strong language and ideologically sensitive material)
When it happened, I could almost not believe it.

It had been clear for a couple of months by now. Ever since he fell sick. Stopped working, stopped jamming the drums with his friends at evenings, stopped carrying me in his arms when I ran to the door to greet him due to how strong he had always been plus the fact that I had always been too short for my age, and quite skinny. It had been clear since I had started to carefully half-open the door of the bathroom to hear my mother crying her heart out and forcing herself to silence when she thought I was playing downstairs with my siblings or dead asleep. Since my siblings and I started selling our most treasured toys or things, and mom took the full-time schedule at her job, and we still had not taken him to the hospital because money was just not enough. Since he started having troubles staying awake. Since he was unable to do things like drink water by himself, or sit up, or speak.

I was not even allowed in when he finally said goodbye. I was almost never allowed in, especially the last days. They thought he would get better, so it was not worth it traumatizing me with the image of him dying when it…when it would not happen. Was not supposed to happen. They thought I was too young. Ten is not too young, I insisted. I stopped sleeping with my teddy, I lied. No, they said. Leave this to the grown-ups. Well, only Marcy was grown-up. None of you are eighteen yet. No, but we’re not kids like you. I just want to say hi, I pout. He’s sleeping. He’s always sleeping…I’m not dumb. Sleeping is in the night. Yes, but he’s sick, and he sleeps during the day. Then, I’ll come back at night and say hi. No, he’s sleeping at night too. When is he awake? Sometimes. Then let me just look at him. No, Billie. Go away. No. Go away. No! You don’t understand what’s happeni- He’s my father as well! Let me in!

No, BeeJ. You’re too young.

Being too young did not allow me to say a last goodbye to him. Or at least let him know I loved him more than I had showed him over my first ten years of life. I could not show him the surgery I applied on teddy to fix its eye, or my report card full of A’s. Because I was too young to be let in.
I think that one is never too young to be allowed one last goodbye.

Last time I spoke to him was like two days before it happened. I convinced mom to see him. He looked bad. Barely spoke to me. Sometimes I asked him stuff, and he just smiled as a response, like old people do when they don’t hear what you asked, and think you just made a comment, and they are too shy to say ‘Come again?’. But mom kissed my forehead goodnight, promising he would be okay. I questioned all my five siblings all over night on what they thought, and they all promised me the same. I was not dumb…but I was a kid. And a kid has all faith, trust and hope completely new, strong, and unbreakable. So I believed it. I was not as upset the following day when they kept shushing me away if I tried to open the door of my parents’ bedroom, because I just knew I had to be patient, and soon enough, he would walk out the door himself and play with me again. He had promised to go see me at my first baseball game, which was by the end of September. So I just waited.

And the following day, the first thing I see when coming back from school, with my report card in hand, proud and eager to show it to everyone, was the bedroom’s door opened, and all my siblings and mom in there. She was supposed to be at work, and three of my siblings at school.
They had all called one another to come back home when it was the hour. None told me. None picked me up for it. They excluded me from the last breath my father was taking.
Because I was too young.

The shock was so stunning I still can’t remember most of that day and moment. It was all blurry, echo-y, foggy. I still can’t remember a day when my heart got any more broken. It was smashed down to pieces, to the point there were parts turned to dust which could not be fixed, found, or replaced ever again. Something died inside of me. Like he had done. Many think not sleeping is a manifestation of great depression. I think no. After such heartbreak, shock, and the endless hours of crying, one is left completely exhausted. Besides, sleeping is an escape; at least for me, it worked that way. I could not believe it. I did not want to believe it. Reality sucked; my family had lied to me, my father had gone away, the trust and faith were broken like glass for the first time in my life at age ten, and the worst of all was this feeling of betrayal of having been forbidden to enjoy my last days with my father by my own family. That was my reality. And it sucked. I did not want to be there, but I could not, not be there. Sleeping was the answer; I was not dead, but I was not awake in my reality either. And it was wonderful as it lasted.

I ran away from the funeral. It was too real. That was the only goodbye I had given him for all eternity. Standing dressed in black in front of a box. Like he would know I was there. Like he would be happy I was there. For fuck’s sake, I was not dumb; he was dead. When they all went “He’d be proud of you standing here”, “He’s happy for you giving him goodbye today”, and all of that, I just wanted to stick my middle finger up like I had seen adults doing when they get mad; he was dead, how could he be proud or happy? How would he know I was there, anyway? It drove me nuts to the point my head started throbbing the sensation of impotence; to know he was there, to have his body right at a few feet from me, and still totally, completely and absolutely unable for him to see me, to know me there. The anger raised. It raised until I got scared of myself; I was ten. I had no idea what was burning so intense inside of me. I had gotten angry before, but this was only something one could feel when growing up.

Which meant I had grown up in that moment. The child in me died, when the hope and trust did. When the heart did. I realized I had lost my childhood. The only thing left I was not angry with. And knowing that, the anger was joined by a huge fear, and a deeper broken heart. It was like a black hole had grown inside of me, behind the lungs, and started swallowing everything in its way, toying with the entrails and tickling them before slowly slurping them, torturing me. It was not until the coffin had been settled that something in my head clicked; run away. I still stood there, but the first little bump of ground they threw on top of the coffin was my trigger; my legs were moving before I knew it.

They called for me. Mom went after me. But I did not stop. I hurried. I tried to miss her. I tried for my mom to miss me. Got home. Locked myself in my room. Ignored mom calling at the door. Shouted things at her. Took a blanket, hid under the bed, and cried. Cried until I did not realize I had fallen asleep. Cried until my soul shrank and burnt inside of me.

David was who first treated with me after that. Believe it or not, I did not move from under the bed over that day, and the whole following one. I was hungry, but I did not want to get out of there. I was achy, but too focused on the inner pain to care. From all my siblings, I got along better with Dave. He was fifteen. He had brought some food with him. Slipped it under the bed. Got down there, slipped in. Called my name. Tried to make me do anything. Something. Prove I was alive, and not just sobbing, facing the wall, made a human burrito in a blanket. But I hated him. I hated all my siblings. I hated mom. At least that day, I hated them all. Because they took dad from me. They did not let me say goodbye, see him a last time, be there in his last breath. And I hated them all because of that.

I despised them from the heart. At least a couple of days.

Eventually, I started getting better, but things still seemed too hollow for me. It was the first Halloween I did not dress up to go around hunting for candies. I had been static all over the year to dress up like Darth Vader. It lost sense when no Obi-Wan was there to walk me through the streets. Christmas was too boring and empty. My family seemed to have noticed the harm they caused in me unintentionally, and the rest of my family from both dad’s and mom’s side seemed to notice something inside me had broken entirely, so I was who received gifts the most. Like I cared at all. No one to throw the baseball at my bat. No one to pat my head if I fell and harmed myself when using the rollers. No one to share the jazz music. No one to make me pout when I did not make it when playing basketball.

Well, I had two siblings, three sisters, a mother, lots of aunts and uncles, many cousins…but none were dad. And I, as the stubborn kid I have always been, wanted him, or I played alone. It was more of a caprice than anything. If he had been alive, I would have played with anyone else no troubles. But he was not there. And if they did not allow me my last days with him, they had no right to take his place. That was how I, with just ten years, saw it for a while.

No Halloween, no Christmas. I did not really enjoy New Year at all, and the return to classes merely sucked. Ever since the day, I had gotten quite distant with my friends. The guys I hanged with had left me. Or better said, I pushed them away. I wanted to know nothing about people. I knew it was not their fault that it had happened, but that something that broke inside of me had changed me for bad in a way, and even if I had fought it, I just could not manage to hang with people happily anymore. Kids my age worried for whether their half was winning on whichever thing we played (war, baseball, tag), and I worried for who was lying to me like my family did and who I was losing next. It was sick and twisted, but I could not, not work that way. It had been my first great loss. And it would stay as my biggest loss ever. But if it had to be, it could have happened when I was older; when I understood how tough life was. But they shoved how tough and cruel life was up my ass when I was ten.

The guys had gotten away of me because I had wanted it that way. And now I ate alone at lunch since the return to classes. No matter what they say, I think a kid can get depressed. Thing is, I had no idea what that meant. I don’t think I actually knew the word at all back then. But my state of living was just that; empty, depressed. It was not only his death, it was that plus all it came with. The unintentional betrayal, the childhood breaking, the broken hope and faith, the anger. I could have fought it much better, but I…hah. Ironic. I was too young.

My birthday sucked. More material gifts. None that could bring daddy back to life. Spring. More and more school.
May the first.
May third.
May fourth.


May the eleventh. It was a Monday morning at school. I arrived late like I had started to get used since the day. I got to the second period to know I had failed math once again, and Spanish. Like I cared anymore. Despite having asked my friends to go away, I cannot put myself as this clichéd child that suffers through school. I actually had nice classmates, no one bullied me (just a few normal mocking due to my height), and I did hang out with people every now and then, just never got intimate with them. That day was one of the many I spent eating on my own at the cafeteria. I picked a couple things on my tray and went to a lone table. They had taken the one back at the corner where I liked to sit if I wanted no one to talk to me. Luckily, there were still quite a couple tables left alone, so I went to the nearest one I found and sat there. My legs hung as my feet did not reach the floor at all. I picked the food with the fork a couple of times. Then, I buried it on the piece of steak that was there and I brought up the whole thing to take a bite of it. It was kind of rough, so I took the fork with both hands and started fighting with the entire piece of steak, pulling from it with my teeth as I growled.

I heard a small laugh.

I stopped and, without letting my teeth release the steak, I turned to the left a bit eye-widened, and found him.
He was a kid that looked my age. Probably a bit taller than the average, but nothing too scary or outstanding. Dark brown hair, messy but not too long. Kind, very kind eyes. Sad eyes. Not sad eyes as in, him giving off the essence of a sad guy. More like the eyes of a puppy; even if they are happy and live okay and play a lot and swing their tail, their eyes are sparkly and sad-looking and it just moves you. He was wearing jeans and a wasted yellowish hoodie, and I could see a white shirt underneath. He was holding a tray with all his food prepared. And he looked at me with a happy smile.
“Is that how you normally eat your meat?” he asked me. He had a very nice voice I memorized almost immediately.

I froze for a moment staring at him. God, it had been so long since I treated with someone new. And this kid looked so…friendly. So cool. Not cool as in the kid everybody wants to befriend. Cool as in, this kid that walked by half-unseen, discrete, but could be the best guy if you gave him the chance, without him being a ghost or a weirdo. I let go of the steak and my eyes went down but my head stayed up.
“Uh…” I let out for a moment. Then I looked up at him, a bit nervous, but I had always been outgoing. “Heh” I chuckled and gifted him a grin as I talked. “That’s not how it’s normally done?”

He laughed a bit. He still stood there at a side, smiling.
“Aren’t you the kid who marked the last run on the baseball game last week?” he asked joyfully, and I could not help some pride to build up inside of me, showing through a wide smile.
“Yeah” I nodded happily. “Did you see the game?”
“Man, I’ve always wanted to join the local baseball team!” the kid grinned and looked like many people do over their favorite things. “You know, just past Monday was my birthday, so part of my gifts was to go get me signed up for the team, and I stayed to watch the game” his smile widened even more. “Thanks to you, I saw the local team win and it was epic!”
“Wow, really?” I asked with a wide grin, suddenly forgetting about the evil steak that stayed silent on my fork in hands. “So that means we’re playing together? How old did you turn? What did you think of the run? You know, with that that I fell down by the home base”
“We are!” he grinned. “I’m starting this weekend! I turned eleven and-”

“Hey, I’m eleven too!” I interrupted joyfully. “That’s so cool, I’ve never seen you around before!”
“Same year? How comes I’ve never seen you before either!?” he exclaimed.

I shared some soft laughter with him, and I stared at him for a couple of moments more. He was still standing at a side, holding his tray. We stayed in silence for a few seconds. Everything went through my mind; my dad going away, putting my family apart of me, scaring my friends away…
They say that when someone exists your life, that’s because that space is going to be occupied by someone new later on.

“Hey” I called and smiled at him, but I doubted he understood the sparkle in my eyes as I did. “Lunch’s not eternal, y’know?” I asked. I looked at a chair at my side, then back at him. “Come on”
I smiled with real honesty. For the first time since the day.
“Sit with me”

Laughter. The sound of the tray. The chair. A hand.
“My name is Mike” he said with joy. “Mike Pritchard!”
Another hand. One grip. Shaking.
“Billie Joe Armstrong”

Two wide smiles.
Somebody new.

--

Eight years passed since the day, ad seven since I met him and befriended each other. We grew up together. I had been taken from a childhood and teen youth without a father, but grew up with the most intimate of best friends somebody could ask for. He was the best out of the best, from the best. If there was a Nobel for the best friend in life, that would be him. We had become the dynamic duo of school, town, of all damn Oakland. As we grew up, there was no Billie without Mike and no Mike without Billie. We were like Batman and Robin, except we both were Batman.

We did mischief together, got in troubles together, and we were caught and chided together. We got dirty in mud together, and were gross together. Shared our favorite bands and songs, sometimes exchanged clothes for a couple days, appeared at one another’s house like it was our own, played together, laughed together, failed classes together. In all honesty, it was all a blast. As we grew up, we started sharing more and more things together; I had been introduced to music by my dad, and now I was introducing him. He was very interested on playing guitar, so I started practicing with him. Sometimes we sat at my bed each with their guitar, and after three hours, he already knew five different songs. We played songs together, and he eventually got a bass for himself. We jammed to our favorite bands together.

And we kept growing up. He was there when I broke down every September, and he was there when the anger and hatred exploded in me when mom brought home a new guy. I was there when his step-father passed away, and when he almost had serious problems with addictions. Ah, yes, half of the time growing up together was spent either drunk or high. But just for fun; not many times did we do it alone in a harmful way, though it did happen a few times to both of us. Yet again, we were there for one another if something serious ever happened again.
If I had had him when I was ten, maybe only then would I have coped much better with it. And if I had never known him, who knows how I would have dealt with life after that day.

We grew up from the dynamic duo to the unbreakable duet. From the little kids we were to a whole transformation growing up. I was still short for my age; seventeen, five foot six. He…well…five foot ten. His hair was brown and messy like I first met him, but his face had had changes; the cheekbones raised, and the facial expressions turned into what he was now; a teenager, young adult. He had gotten a pair of tattoos by then, and his hands were much stronger now. And he had…ahem…well…he had…he had grown quite well built up, okay? Like, muscles. Ahem. Uhm. Like…s-strong arms and strong chest and strong everything without looking like he went to the gym, because he did not. He just…enjoyed baseball and sports a lot.

He had grown up hot.

I was a skinny midget with awkward hair. I liked my hair, but I had this sudden idea of dying it black. It looked good, I think. And if well treated, it looked better. But recently waking up or sweating, it turned into an awkward half-curly mess. I, compared to him, was the weakling. Now I was Robin. No offense, Robin, but…well, he was tall and strong, and I was the bouncy guy of flat complexion. No butt like him, for example.
Not like I stared.
Hm.

We grew up gay, for example! Well, not exactly gay. I was bi, while he remained pan. We had had girlfriends and boyfriend all over our teenage ages. I more than he did.
The teen ages are the years where you experiment the most, because it is this transition between childhood and its innocence and adulthood and its realism. And all of what’s experienced there, we shared it together. Not as in, making stuff together the whole time, but being there when things happened. Drugs, those were shared together, for example. The adrenaline of going on stage. This sensation of being in love was not shared for one another, but when we lived it, we were there to talk about it to one another, be there when it happened.
Sex, for example.

I started before he did. Age fifteen. A girl. He started a year later, a girl as well. It had been ‘straight’ intimation for a while, and as I started digging out my sexuality, managed to try out something with a guy, and dared to go further, I started dealing with guys when it was about that matter of a subject. I had to admit I was a bit more…cheeky when it was about that in comparison to Mike, but not even near to the whore chicks of school. I just…went for it much earlier in a relationship than Mike did. And so, when single, I did dare to get some at parties or random whiles with guys or girls I knew but did not want to treat in a relationship, and who felt the same way towards me.
What can I say? Twenty century.

And even though I adored the top, I had to admit that, with stronger or/and taller guys…well, I really wanted to be the one whose head got smashed to the pillow. It was not that I liked cloud-like, mountain-looking guys. Ew. But those who were slim, slender, and still had quite their strength and slightly marked muscles….well, what the hell, bring them all to me. Just…not at once. Brr.

For us guys, mainly but not only, it is quite normal, mainly in teen ages, to go for jerking off thinking of a friend. And it is not that we want to fuck this person; we just need inspiration, and sometimes, you have this luck of having quite…attractive friends.
Pump…pump…pump
“God, yes…”
And still, there never is guilt because you know you’re not serious, that they don’t know, and it’s not like it harms someone. If anything, you feel guilty the first times, but then you know all your friends do the same and you just keep going freely.
Pump, pump, pump.
“Ow…fuck…”
I think that if you feel guilty, that’s because you really do care on what this person would say if they found out. Because you really do care.
Pumpumpumpumpump.
Eye fluttering.
“Oh, fuck…oh, fuck!”
Have you ever done it a thousand times and, one day, after years, you just…feel guilty all of a sudden? What do you think that means? That you stopped seeing them as a figure to jerk off because…because they suddenly seem to you as something much bigger than that? Much more worth that a jerk off?
The strong arms.
His belly.
The sweat rolling down his skin as he played on stage.
The curves of his strong arms.
His strong arms.
Those arms.

“Ow, fuck! Mike!”
Splat.

--

I had constantly dreamed of him. After the last break up on my eighteen years, I suddenly stopped fucking at parties with random school mates, and I stopped lying eyes on someone. Not even the cheerleaders and the young librarian seemed any hot anymore. Nobody caused butterflies in me anymore, and I had no one I wanted to chase after classes everyday until earning a Yes as an answer for going out. I just wanted to be with him. Follow him like a loyal dog. Be at his feet if he wanted. Bring him a lunar rock if he pleased. Kiss his toes. I wanted to make sure he made it home safely. That he ate constantly, ate good. Got enough sleep. That he was happy. I wanted to know he was happy. Healthy. That he lived okay.

More than my best friend and brother of other blood, he had turned into something abstract and divine to me. I felt to him like an angel to god.

I had no idea how he felt towards me. But I spent months like that. With eyes just for him. Indeed, maybe I had had years feeling like that and, scared of admitting it as he was my best friend, I tried to pretend that was not it; maybe that was why, if I was not in a relationship, I looked for a one-night-stand with someone…not because I wanted…maybe it was because I wanted to be distracted from Mike. Because I liked him. Because I…because he had made his way through my ribcage, set up a nest in my heart, and just sat there happily, and had no intentions of getting out of there. Because I was scared of something as big; because I wanted a huge, real, serious compromise with him, and I did not feel ready for that…so I, instead, looked for one night stands.

But now, after the hormones had settled down a bit, I could not keep it in any longer. And I just belonged to him in all ways and shapes. And he had no idea. Spent months not having idea.

My siblings were all grown enough; some had left home already, and the rest that stayed home but me had jobs now. Well, I had one as well, but it was only on Fridays’ evenings, playing on stage for a bar. But the rest had to work from Monday to Saturday, and the house was usually left alone with me in there. So for a year or two, it had become Mike’s and I’s base. That was where we had our jamming sessions the most, watched movies or TV, spent the while together. He did not like being in his own house, so mine had become ours. We used to either spend the while together or, like siblings, just be around even if not sharing words or spaces. He was as much of an Armstrong as I was when it came to being in my house.

One day, like when we were not jamming but just still learning a new song, we were sat on my bed across one another. This time, I had my guitar and he had his bass. We were playing by ear, so we helped each other on what we thought was correct, or when something did not quite fit in. We did not take long. An hour later, we had the whole song, so we spent another few minutes just practicing, laughing, being together. When we got tired, we put the instruments at a side, and we just spent the while talking. We lied on the bed, with the legs hanging from the board, laughing and sharing a nice conversation. He stood up and walked around the room. I stayed on the bed. He took a view out of the window. The conversations carried on and on along laughter and jokes. I stood up and went to sit by the desk. He stayed by the window. I went to get some water. He lied on the bed. I returned there. Sat at his side.

Wrong or not, it was no mistake that I did. Maybe we both knew it was to happen, and pretended we did not to the point we really did not know we knew. Or maybe we really did not know despite how obvious it was. Maybe I forgot to switch on the lights when the sun hid because I did not want to turn them on, and I did not know I knew I did not want.

He sat up. We kept talking, ignoring how close we were to one another. The conversation kept the same course, but the volume had gone down. The laugher was softer. We had been staring to the eyes at one another without realizing how easy it was for both of us, so much we did not even feel it as something deep until we realized what we were doing. He got closer, so discrete I did not notice. Or maybe I noticed, and I did not know I knew. His nose almost rubbed mine. The silence was suddenly marked. The smiles stayed on our faces. Our eyes were half closed. And his hand was suddenly on my neck, while mine to stay shyly on top of his other hand.

Our lips collided. It was soft at first. Just a touch, a caress. The discrete whisper of cotton rubbing on silk. The innocence we had lost long ago recovered for a couple of moments. The creation of a galaxy made our silence, peace, colors, mountains and rivers, no humans to fuck up the air.
We let go. Broke apart.

After staring at each other for more moments in the deepest of connections that were possible, our mouths collided. More than the creation of a galaxy, it turned into the explosion of a star. It turned heavier. Wilder. His hand slipped behind until staying on my nape as he brought me closer. I almost had an anxiety attack for I was fulfilling a dream of mine…but I also wanted to complete my fantasy. His arms. I wanted. I wanted to touch them. Slowly, trembling, with shyness, I moved one of my hands up…and carefully, finally, after a few years fantasizing with them, I laid it on one of his strong, beautiful, well built arms. My breath was taken away mid kiss and I stopped breathing in a totality when I did, letting out a tiny, almost unnoticeable little, pathetic, microscopic moan. And it seemed to have worked as a trigger for both of us.

Our lips attacked each other like they hated one another and were in war. Our tongues travelled desperately into one another’s mouth, and started battling like I had never, ever in life kissed anyone else before. And it was good. Indeed, it was so good we…just could not help it.

More than the slow, romantic, erotic love-making one expects with a desired, loved one, it was a messy pulling of clothes. Maybe he wanted to stop. Maybe I wanted to stop. But we did not. We desperately tugged at one another’s clothes, gasping for air, kissing like we had not seen a single human being in five years and had had no sexual contact during that while. My shirt was the first thing off. Still kissing him, I pulled him down on top of me, wanting to give him no words to recall how I wanted it to be. Instead of wrapping my arms around his neck, I held his head to pull it towards mine, desperate, needy for his mouth on mine, as he hurried with my belt and button.

He shivered, cursed in a whispered moan, and found his hands stupid. He could not focus on my pants, and instead did he go on for eating my neck and jawline. Goddammit. My weakness. As his mouth worked on that, his hips, impatient, kept rocking against mine like we were already in the act. His hands caressed my torso, worked on my chest and sides. I tugged at his hoodie. Unzipped. Threw it away. Took his shirt off. Threw it away. Had him rolling me on top of him. Both moaning. Both shivering. Both breathless. Both rocking hips. Both kissing.
A pair of jeans landing on the floor. A pair of boxers following.
Hands. Pumping. Mouths. Licking. Sucking.

I shouldn’t, he said. No protection? Do you want to stop? Sincerely, no. Me neither. Come on. It’s okay.

This was the explosion of a galaxy. To feel him inside, in a literal and metaphorical way. The heat. The intense heat that made me think I was at nothing of passing out, of melting, of burning. The ecstasy. The adrenaline. Having him coming back down after a while. His arms at the sides of my head. His mouth gentle on my cheek, his hips going animal against mine. My head back. The moaning. My arms caressing his back. His back. The strong, attractive back I fantasized of. Harder…harder…. Stopping. Rolling on top. The bouncing. The intense bouncing. The rocking. Kissing him, caressing him. Changing once again. The intense shivers down my spine when my heated back collided with the cold wall. The sound of him slamming against me.

The changing once again. The return to me down on my bed. Sweating. Him, lying on top of me, kissing under my ear. My arms around him, my hand gripping his hair, my legs spread at a side, him inside. Oh, god… The heat on my face. The intense moaning from both parties. Faster…faster! The speed. The incredible speed. The strength. That amazing intensity. The screaming. Loud screaming. The most last-longing, incredible, and fantastic orgasm I had ever experienced.
The Big Bang.
No pun intended.


We did not fall asleep together that night, made promises of eternal love, had him kissing my forehead while hugging me to his chest. For more adorable romantic stories are, they are…stories. Twenty century gay teenagers, real life. We spent a while thrown on the bed, wordless. Silent. Not even looking at each other. I was exhausted and kept the eyes on the ceiling. He was as tired, and stayed face down with the eyes closed, relaxing. After half an hour, I sat up. He did as well, and we started putting our clothes back on in silence. Once dressed, I opened the window for air to ventilate and take away the smell. Switched the lights on.

We sat there, awkward, side to side. I kept the head down, the forearms on the thighs. I sighed. Minutes passed by. His hand found my cheek. His lips found the other one. Softly. Way too softly.
“I care for you” he whispered to me. “It wasn’t just one-night fucking”

I turned to look at him. Smiled. The eyes went down, but the smile stayed. God. He always knew what was bothering me. He did not even need to ask me to know what I was feeling, anytime.
“…I care for you” I whispered to him. I was so serious about that fact, that the smile could not be present. “…so much. You don’t have an idea” I swallowed. Stared at nowhere at all. “…kinda scares me”
“BeeJ” he whispered. I looked at him. He looked at me.

He gave me The Smile. The one that reassured me, and made me know everything was alright. That everything would be okay. That he would be there for me.
I returned the smile with one of mine.
No kiss needed.
Just a hug.

--

Two years.
Two wonderful years. Filled of joy. Filled of love. A fight every now and then. Sleepless nights. Cuddles. Filled of cuddles and kisses. Some balloons, some gifts, some movies. Much more jamming with our guitars. Lots of music. Some nice trips to many places. Wonderful sights. Photographs. Laughter. Laughter more than any other thing.

We spent that while as a wonderfully happy couple. We spent days together, and we also knew how to spend days apart. We had our own troubles on jealously which was eventually taken over, and we cuddled one another when we wanted and needed to. We also formed up a band, where we both were leaders, apparently. We dressed up awkwardly on Halloween, and we watched lots of movies (and porn) together. Burped together, were gross together, got in troubles together.

We were the same kids that met at the cafeteria, and the exact same teenagers that did pot at the back of school. We were exactly like the best friends we had always been, except we now owned each other’s ass and kissed one another and called each other awkward names. And I will not lie; it was the time of my life. I would have never guessed I would end up like this, for the mere fact of being the person I shared my romantic life to be Mike, if I’m honest. It was strange; the childhood best friend who grew up along you, side to side, now holding your hand. At first it even felt a bit like incest. Then it turned into something rather normal. And then, it just made me warm in the heart to think we had grown up together exactly because of this; because my hand had been shaped like the empty spaces in his.

They say that nothing lasts forever, so we never promised that. Instead, we promised each other to be there for one another for as long as both our hearts kept beating inside of our chests. Which was a much more realistic promise, which could not actually be a lie at all. We actually managed to fulfill that promise, in case you feel quite curious. We loved one another with no conditions, exceptions, distractions, betrayals, or wrong consequences, without thinking on forcefully completing the promise as it was not an obligatory task but a satisfactory wish that was born from the heart more than from the responsibility or obligation, ‘for as long as both our hearts kept beating inside of our chests’.

Did you know that for much alcohol you drank, your troubles won’t be washed away? And that’s not the point of an alcoholic, as it’s just a matter of a bit of common sense to know it won’t help in anything. The sweet thing of this is that you use it as excuse to feel better, when in reality you feel like crap. Indeed, there’s no positive side on being alcoholic; it doesn’t fix your problems, and it doesn’t ‘make you forget’, or ‘makes you feel okay’, or ‘helps to forget at least for a little while’. That’s bullshit, clichéd excuses on the reasons why one keeps drinking. Thing is, those are so used as excused, that you don’t know it’s an excuse and think it’s a fact, so you fool yourself thinking it actually works when it doesn’t. Psychology, bitches.

I had not been sober for two years by now, more or less. There was this incredibly ugly bar thirty minutes away of my house. Booze was cheap and good. And the distance made it good so that my family would not find me wandering around the streets all drunk. I always put up an excuse of going somewhere, even if we all knew already where I was heading to. But it was nice pretending none of us really knew we knew; that way they pretended they did not worry, and I pretended it was okay lying to all of them. Many people at the bar had friends and went there to have a good time. Some others went there to get drunk alone. Some others went to get drunk and tell their problems to the bartender. Nothing made me special; I was the kind to sit alone and get drunk until really not being able to recall what the hell, where home was, and having this need to throw up, thing I controlled good enough unless I overdid my already overdone dose.

I had been robbed thanks to that state of mine to be drunk many times, and I had been hit countless times due to how aggressive I turned when drunk, and idiot enough to think I could handle a gang on my own or a six foot tall guy with my bare hands. Only out of mere luck had I not been shot or stabbed yet, but almost.

It had been on a January morning. Mike and I had spent the night at his house, seeing as it would be alone. Already twenty, we had planned on moving in together soon, somewhere, seeing as we were and felt prepared to go for it, but it had not been possible just yet. We spent the night together. We had watched a movie until we got bored, and so we went on for what we enjoyed the most; music. It did last quite a while, and after that, we just spent a while together, cuddling, talking. Laughing, more than anything. After that came the intimation. Thing is, it was a bit weird. We did not go gross-talking and rough on one another, and even though it was not like in clichéd love movies that we barely ghosted one another and were so slow we did not even notice we were moving, it was quite…passionate. Very romantic if I may admit. And deep. A very deep, way too deep connection I had not felt any other day before when doing this to and with him.

It felt…amazing, and not just in the sexual way.

The morning after that, once we had already woken up, taken breakfast and had gotten dressed, we spent a while watching TV, him sat beside me. After a while, he recalled on headache. Knowing him, he must have had been feeling it for hours by then, but as he wanted to worry no one as it was merely headache, he just said nothing. Until it really did hurt on him. Spoiling him and still joking with him as we usually did when either of us fell sick, I took care of him, gave him medicine to heal the pain a bit, and had him resting beside me, the head on my lap. We stayed like that some more, and after his nap, he said he felt better even though it still ached a bit.

He went to the bathroom to wash his face. I smacked his butt as he walked away. He laughed and flicked off at me. ‘Love you’, I told him in soft laughter, and a sincere sparkle in my eyes. He opened the door of the bathroom. Smiled. Smiled sincerely, wide, with lots of affection. ‘Love you too’.
Spent too much time in there. Went to look for him. Got no answer from knocking or calling. Opened the door.
Did you know that Franklin D. Roosevelt’s last words were ‘I have a terrific headache’, before he died out of a cerebral hemorrhage not much later?

Mike had been drug and alcohol clean for a year by now. He never really overdid, he and I just did it for fun every now and then. But he had stopped eventually over that year and had managed to be clean for two or three months by now, as in, entirely. I had been his mate on it and had been stopping as well. It was rare of him to fall sick. He ate good, probably not the healthiest of eaters, but he had no bad alimentation. He got enough sleep. He was happy, and he had lots of fun every day. He was healthy. He had no reasons to have lived through that. His brain had no fucking single reason to freaking bleed like it did.

I had no idea on what was going on; he had not committed suicide. He had just gone through the bathroom. There was blood nowhere. There were hits and bruises nowhere. He was just there, on the floor, unconscious. What did you want me to think? I thought nothing. I had no idea what had been wrong. I just guessed it had been a very extreme headache that stunned him out of nowhere, or that he was very ill and had fallen unconscious. I would have never thought ‘Oh, yeah, those are symptoms of cerebral hemorrhage’, who in this world thinks that but fucking doctors? Obviously, I had no idea, but even if I had had, there was nothing else I could do other than call for an ambulance. They did not take long arriving, they took him and me away, and he finally died either in the hospital room or in his way there.

A doctor merely approached me, called for me, and gave me the bad news. I stayed shocked and asked her again what the hell had she said. She repeated. Shaking my head no and taking my time again, I asked her if she was okay or if she was mistaking my diagnostic and patient for someone else’s. She called his name, called mine, called the reason, said he had passed. Stayed shocked. Whispered for her to say it, to say it was a prank. She shook the head no. I asked her to say it. Snap it out in the clearest of ways. That was when she said the word.
Dead.




When it happened, I could almost not believe it.

It had not been clear for any time. We had no single idea it would happen, not him who owned his own body and knew what was going on inside of it, and even less did I have an idea of what was going on inside of his head. It had not been any clear. It had not been obvious. It had been a very huge surprise for both of us.

When they gave me the news of what had happened to him, I took a bit of my time, until I realized that this time I was taking, had been spent forgetting how to breathe. The shock plus not breathing, though I think it was out more of the shock, just helped me to nothing good; just helped me get a hold of the wall, lose my sense of hearing as noise just turned into something echo-y and distant, and slowly lose my sense of sight, as it turned blurry and confusing. Last thing I heard was the doctor calling for a nurse as I was ‘passing out from shock’, but my brain did not swallow the information at all. Then there was just a Beep as the only sound I could hear. I saw a very blurry lump dressed in white which was supposed to be the doctor turning to me, and catching me just as I barely let go of the wall and my knees went weak.

Next thing I knew, it was either all black, or a blurry image of reality, catching just a few seconds of moments; the ceiling and people of the hospital hovering over me, for example. When the shock, talking medically, finally went away, I woke entirely up in a hospital bed at the emergency room, like the one they use for things that don’t go as serious and people leave as soon as possible. Still eye-widened and slowly recovering my sense of ear, I was still emotionally shocked to really do much. I could look at the nurse who was taking care of me, with my wide-as-plates eyes, and see her lips move, but even if my ears caught the noise and words, they never made it to my brain. I could not ask her to repeat, I could not tell what she had just said, I could not nod or shake my head in response, I could not even stand up.

Only Zeus knows how long I spent there. And when I had been able to move and stand up, talk and hear, I was allowed to go see him. I was not there in his last breath. I was not there in his last moments. Because I was not a doctor or nurse to be allowed in the room. Or maybe I was there with him in his last breath, in the ambulance, and I did not know. Or maybe even before, and I did not know. Because I was uncertain of when exactly did Death arrive for him. I only know it was a surprise. For me. For him. But he did not know he had been given a surprise; he would never know. Maybe when he felt he was falling unconscious, he knew it was just sleeping; getting sick; waking up hours later in his bed, with me slapping him, saying ‘Goddammit, Mike, don’t scare me like that!’ and spoil him.

I ran away from the funeral. I was hurt. Deeply hurt. I had lost my best friend. The one who walked by my side for nine years, almost every single damn day of them. I had lost the love of my life. The one I discovered when eighteen, and the one I loved until twenty and much further that. I had lost the brother of other blood who had been my bandmate, my classmate, my mischief mate. I had…I had lost my sweetest treasure. The biggest one I had. I was hurt. Deeply sad. They say a grown man can fall depressed, and I think that’s true. No matter how bouncy and hyper I always was, I was still human and could get deeply depressed. And there was no other word to describe it.
I was angry. Angry because the world did not even warn us. Did not even prepare me mentally. Did not hint a single bit. I was angry because the world took him from me without even apologizing, without warning, without making it soft or anything. It just killed him in the bathroom.

It had been the second biggest loss of all my life. I could barely stand one and get out of it okay. Two of them…they ended up murdering every bit of hope I had inside of me. The joy was all gone. Life had suddenly lost its sense; I found no joy on anything. None of the instruments I could play healed my pain, calmed me down, made me happy. No TV series did either. No any other way of art. No poem. No beautiful sight of outdoors. No games. Nothing. It had suddenly lost all of the possible senses. It sucked. It really did plain suck. So I went on for what was easiest and what Mike and I had promised to never do; overdose. On many things; on ugly thoughts, on sleepless nights…and mainly, on pills and powders, and alcohol. Alcohol more than anything.

Only once did David walk in on me with the paper in my hand that connected the powder on the table to my nose, but he slammed the door back closed out of mere reflex, and gave me time enough to hide everything before he really reacted this time and walked in to give me one good scolding. A couple of times did my friend Jason fond me with the LSD already on my tongue. Many times did people witnessed me high on pot. None found me overdoing on the pills for depression the psychiatrist noted me, but Holly and Marcy did once find me each thrown unconscious either on the floor or half on the bed half on the floor out of doing it. How close had I been to death those times…and how hard did it refuse to take me.

You’re so stubborn, Billie Joe…it is still not your time. I’m not taking you. When will you understand?
Why not? You took him. You took them. I could go too.

What they found me the most, though, was drunk. I used to arrive home like that if I was not doing any drugs. It was a very rough mess. Allan and David had to go look for me countless times at nights when I was still not home, and they usually found me wandering around town or thrown sleeping in an alleyway, out of my senses, stinking.

That one night, no one went to look after me, though, as they had no idea I was out. It had been the first time I sneaked out like that; I used to cheekily say I was going out and exit through the main door, but this time, I just sneaked out while they were around the house. I left a recording of myself playing guitar on eternal repeat and the door closed, so they would think I would be spending my next five hours just playing guitar and not answering at the door because I did not feel like it. Two years had passed since the day, and twelve since that one other day. That night, I wanted no one to find me. And so my family did not went to look for me because they thought I was home.

It was snowing. It was January, almost February. I went to get drunk, like usual. I paid the usual, drank, cried a bit, paid, drank, paid, drank, and so until I did a bit more than the usual. Got more than drunk enough. Walked out of the bar. Walked normally, I did not really lose my sense of balance until I had gone a few miles away. That day, the snow confused me. It was not like I had not walked through the streets heavily drunk while snowing…but maybe I was too in my thoughts, or maybe my drink had something in it, and I just got lost some streets away. Or maybe I just wanted to get lost, and did not know I wanted.

Any or other way, I ended up walking by some place kids of the high school nearby sometimes went to for some fun or whatever. A club, or a videogame stop, or a restaurant, I don’t care what was there. I just knew senior-looking guys and girls sometimes stopped by. Nothing called my attention specially that night. There was almost no one there. I kept on walking, and at the other side of the street, I could see a kid walking out of the store being bullied by tougher guys. Maybe it was actually a girl, or a very girly boy. Did not care. Kept on walking. Looked at the sides, tried to make out which way leaded home. Took the path on right. Started stumbling, lost sense of balance. What the hell is going on? I kept on walking, and walking, then turned left. Well, this was not funny.

After a few more stumbling and walking, I growled and yelled out in a slurry, pathetic way, as I kicked the snow at my feet. I started cursing loudly. Kept kicking the snow, people walked by and got away of me, staring at me, hurrying not to be seen by the aggressive drunk dude. I kept kicking everything, and then I looked at my side to find a closed church. You think it’s funny, huh!? You think it’s cool to go ‘round kil-hip-killing people, like we’re ants!? You think you’re funny, huh!? Huh, you, motherfucker!? I took a good pile of snow, and started throwing it to the church, aiming for the cross on top of the doors. What’s your fucking problem!? I’m a fucking American man who can’t go ‘round making friends, because you kill them! Throwing snow, throwing more snow. You think this is a fucking joke? Huh!? Do you have an idea of what pain is!? Do you!? Do you!?

Kicking snow, I tried to turn around and take more snow to throw at the building, but I stumbled upon my own feet and fell down. I did not even try to get back up for some moments, I just stayed smashed down on the floor I pulled my head up to breathe, and I cursed under my breath. Fuck, snow is cold. I tried to stand back up, but I only managed to walk a few meters when I stumbled again and fell, nearby an alleyway. I was sure somebody had called the cops by now, so I crawled a few feet into the alleyway like it would save me or hide me. Once there, I stayed thrown on my side, coughing a bit. Well, what the hell, I was to throw up. I tried to contain it and hipped a few times. When I managed to sit up, I only grumbled a bit, held my head, and then my eyes caught a sight of it.

A kid.
A guy. Or…a girl?

I kept my eyes on where I had last seen that person. He or she had been staring at me with curious but not disgusted eyes, and when they caught me staring, they tried to hide behind a stall. After a few moments, this person discretely looked at me again, and this time they did not care I was staring. I gave them a frown of confusion, of questioning. And, like they had no fear at all, they got out of their shy hideout and started slowly heading towards me.

The guy or girl looked like a raven in so many black clothes. The boots, the pants, the belt, the hoodie, and the coat, all black. Ah, and the hair; so jet black it was almost blue under the light. And to fit the sick and goth air to this person, the skin so pale for a moment I thought this was death or an undead finally coming for me, so I flinched and looked at him with a bit of fear. He looked like an incarnation of death. A very, very beautiful one. Maybe that was why I could not distinguish the gender; it was not that the hair rubbed the shoulders, or that the waistline was a bit marked, or the walking quite girly and boyish at the same time, but that this was not human at all and had no gender either.

When this person got closer, though, I could make out it was about a guy. A very girly one, by the way. He had long, long eyelashes. One did not need to look closely at him to tell so. And beautiful, sparkly eyes, but I could not recall the color of them. He was getting closer very carefully, but not like I was to attack him. When he got closer, I really could not recall what his intentions were, as his mouth was hidden under a scarf of black and grey strips. Once close to me, he tried to lean down towards me, but as he did, I frowned and, like an animal, I growled. He back off a few steps, stayed still, and then giggled lightly. Giggled.

“It’s okay” I heard him whisper. He had the….sweetest voice I had ever heard. It had been so much like hearing an angel, like hearing the voice of peace itself, that it brought me almost completely out of my drunken state. I stared at him with wider eyes and stayed still. Then, he got on his ankles and got closer to me once again like that. “I’m not going to harm you”
“I’m not a street kitty you’re taking home, fucker” I barked at him, but I could not yell at him. I could not. He was too sweet looking. Too beautiful. Too beautiful, too stunning in comparison to everything or everyone I had seen before. “Get lost”
“What’s your problem?” He asked but it did not seem to be a question to my attitude. It was more like he…like he was interested on what my problems really were. He look at me with the innocence of a little child, tilting his head lightly to a side, and blinked. “Did you just lose someone you love too?”

Shock.
Words got stuck in my throat, and as more and more of them tried to make their way out but got stuck in my throat, they eventually formed a huge knot in their place which almost gagged me as I tried to talk, but only managed to open and close my mouth a bit as I stared at him. My drunken state had almost passed away from only treating with his guy, and I still could not come up with an answer. He looked at me with those innocent, huge and sparkly eyes. Hazel. They were hazel. His nose was so pretty, and his cheeks stayed slightly, slightly pink under the freezing weather. And his eyelashes…gosh, I was surprised he did not cause tornadoes with every blink he gave. My eyes travelled around his face as I still tried to talk, but I just could not.

Twelve years…two years…

He kept staring at me with innocence, expecting an answer. By the time I noticed, my sight was blurry again, but it was no alcohol effect. Tears drowned my eyes, and all the anger had faded into darkness. A huge, huge sadness took over me and my sensations. My fingers tickled under the depression, and my lungs worked hardly being squeezed by pain. My tongue tasted depression, and my whole soul had suddenly fallen into a pool of sadness. Before I could reply at all, he moved a hand up and placed it softly on my shoulder. I stared at it, and more tears came to my eyes. No one had reassured me with such honesty before. They had done so many times, but after the first six months, they started doing it out of protocol, not pity. And this guy…had walked up to me just to act as a psychologist. He was interested.

His hand eventually moved again and caressed my cheek very softly. The contact of his glove against my freezing cheek caused shivers in me, and such huge demonstration of affection in a very stranger-to-stranger way caused my heart to get squeezed so hard it hurt. It hurt deeply. Could not contain it, and I just closed my eyes as tremendous rivers of tears started making their way out. I sobbed like a little girl. I tried to stutter out the answer, but words had totally gotten stuck in my throat.
“It’s okay” he told me softly, and as he said that, he started taking his coat off, and wrapped it around my shoulders as I curled up in a ball not in coldness but in pain. I sobbed once again, and before I could open my eyes at all again, all I felt was his arms rounding me. He pulled me towards himself, rested me against him, and hugged me strongly, very strongly.

I whimpered a bit, and just started breaking harder in tears in his arms.
He smelled like…cigarettes. And under it, there was some coffee. And under it, there was the sweet smell of a wonderful human being.

“There, there, it’s okay” this seventeen-year-old-looking guy said sweetly at me, never letting go of the hug for a good amount of minutes I spent crying on his shoulder. After I had calmed down a bit, he drew small circles on my back with his open palms, and shushed me. Once I did but not helping it but sob a bit every now and then, we broke the hug. My head stayed down, and he gripped my arms softly. He moved a hand up to remove some of my hair from my face, and he smiled widely and very cutely at me. “You okay?”
“…y-yeah…” I said in a broken voice, and looked up at him, still crying slightly.
“There…it’s okay” he said softly. “Life can get tough…just try not to fall down again, okay?”

I did not reply. We spent some moments in silence, and my gaze stayed down. I would not say yes because it was not that easy, and I could not say no because I was no loser life could fuck before I fucked it first. After that, I looked up at him, and stared at his pretty, beautiful hazel eyes.

“You…reminded me a bit of myself…” he whispered, and his gaze went down even if the smile stayed on his face, a bit sad this time. “…don’t want you to end up like myself”
I blinked. I was not sure I could understand fully what was happening ever since he got close to me. I stared at him in disbelief and confusion, and he just chuckled with sadness. A bit lost in his thoughts for a few seconds, he soon looked back at me, and sighed.
“…let me take you home, yeah?” he whispered in a much more serious but still very sweet way. I looked at him, then down and up like scanning him. His raven black hair…and his beautiful pearl-like face…and his slender frame, all dressed in black. And his coat around my shoulders…his pretty eyes…
They say that when somebody exists your life, that’s because that empty space is going to be occupied by someone new.

I, slowly and a bit in shock, let my gaze go down, and I nodded shyly.
“Come on…” he offered as he got on his ankles again and offered me his hands. I accepted them slowly, and let him carefully pull me up so I would not get dizzy if I did it too fast in my half-drunken state. I stumbled very slightly a bit, but he held my arms until it passed. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and let me walked leaned on him a bit.

Suddenly, I knew my way back home.
“Oh, my bad” he said with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m Gerard…Gerard Arthur Way” he greeted, like it was his every-day-thing to go around making friends out of drunken people who throw snow at churches and hide in alleyway.
I shivered a bit as we kept walking. I blinked a couple of times.

“…I’m Billie” I said back, and we both stopped walking for a moment to look at each other. I smiled with sadness at him, and my eyes drowned in tears again as I looked at this not-so-stranger-anymore.


“…Billie Joe Armstrong”
Chapter 46: Fur Shaving Day

“Why haven’t you cut your hair, Gerard?”

Gerard dropped the dead cigarette to the ground, at his feet, and used one of them to smash it. He had grown to not only like of the cigar now but also go for it as constantly as he went to the bathroom whenever he had the chance to go out and had a break from any class. Bob had been first to chide him and punch him in the arm after taking from him the box he had in his backpack, so after a few days, Gerard made sure to not do it in front of the blond, not more than once. It was almost like the way his friend went nuts (his serious, calm and quiet way, of course) passed by unseen by Gerard; he listened and saw and everything, but he just did not react at all and did not reply, not due to shock but by mere lack of necessity of an answer. Life was; if someone said something that needed no answer, even if a speech two hours long, then there was just no need of an answer and that was it. No big deal.

Frank had also gone angry at him for seeing him smoking so normally and a bit in excess (excess, of course, for a first timer teenager), so Gerard tried to control himself in front of his friend, and as he had always known Ray was just not friends with cigarettes, he also has to look out for it when in front of him. So with all of his friends worrying over him smoking more than twice a day (which was already quite too much), he merely did not do it more than once in front of them. Each of them, of course. It was not like he was lying at all; he just did not tell them the whole thing and that was it. If he smoked one in front of Ray, there was no need of telling him he had smoked one with Frank and one with Bob, two on his own, and one with Jake before. What the eyes did not see, the heart did not feel.

The pale tenth grader let out a last cloud of smoke from his nostrils and mouth, and stayed standing at a side of the bench where Frank was lying on (despite it being covered in snow just a few moments back), not making eye contact with his friend. The fact that he had partly his trust did not mean Gerard dared to look at him to the eye after his…well, it was not a lie. But it was a way of putting it. He moved lightly his head to get rid of some pressure on his neck, and felt his long hair brushing against his back. Heck, it was long. But the longer, the better off it was for the sake of the play.

“I thought I’d already told you” Gerard said with his always soft and gentle voice, turning to look at Frank, who pouted his lower lip and shook his head. His friend titled lightly the head to a side. “No?”
“Nope” Frank replied, sitting up on the bench and caressing the back of his neck. Whether it was due to starting school again or just for a strange position of sleeping the previous night, he felt some stress on his muscles. Perhaps it was from coming back to school, as Gerard was the same. “I thought that, once done with the play, you’d of be free to cut it again”
“Yeah, that was the plan” Gerard replied. “If I didn’t cut it during holidays that was because I was too lazy, and out of mere luck” he continued, and sat down at a side of his friend, staring up at the cloudy sky. “You see, there’s another presentation for the play by June or so”
“Oh, really?” Frank asked both surprised and excited, what made his friend smile very subtly and with a bit of shyness as he stared away; he felt quite flattered due to his participation in the play every now and then. There were random students who complimented him when he walked past them about his great acting skills and his wonderful voice (despite the other half of school who made fun of him for having done the role of a girl and the voice of one), but his group of friends were who took the prize to ‘Those Who Make Gerard Feel He Did a Great Job’. Or TWMGFHDaGJ for shorter. “Man, that’s awesome! I get to see it again!”

“Yeah” Gerard agreed with a side smile, arms crossed. “I’m kinda excited, to be honest…the play’s one of the countable things I’ve enjoyed in the past fifteen years and ten months”
“I can tell” Frank said with a small laugh, which, along the words, made Gerard’s smile fade as he turned to look at his friend, not angry or offended but quite curious. Frank understood the hidden question in the guy standing nearby him, and widened his smile. “You tend to have this heavy dark aura on you, but on stage or whenever I saw you reading the script, you looked…you know…” Frank shrugged, one of his eyebrows furrowing lightly in a sign Gerard had gotten to know as when his friend looked for the correct way of using words. “…in calm” he said softly, staring away like talking to himself rather than speaking to Gerard. “As if…art healed you and all you’ve kept from us ever since we first said Hello”

Gerard was left speechless. His eyes were slightly widened and his breath had gotten stuck somewhere in his throat as he stared at Frank. Both stayed in a bit of silence, before the teen with lip ring turned again to look at Gerard once more, and smiled kindly, with all his bounciness gone. Gerard blinked once while staring at him in total silence. Well, he knew Frank had quite his own artist hidden under that white skin, and that he had a massive way of thinking he tended to hide under layers of jokes and pranks, but that was…quite unexpected. Frank was the kind of guys who knew more than you knew he knew, and still kept it silent because he knew you wanted it to stay that way.

Gerard did not even question him. After the shock, he merely stared down as a small curve appeared on his lips, and his gaze returned to Frank, who gave him a small and very friendly and even fatherly wink. Gerard replied with one of his own, using both eyes in a soft motion, that almost said ‘Yeah, it’s okay’ or something. Then, Frank sighed and stood up from the bench.
“Well, let’s get going” he said as he got closer to Gerard, stopping at his side with a bright smile. “We’re late”

He laughed softly and wrapped an arm around Gerard’s shoulders, pulling him in a brotherly half hug and heading towards the inside of school. Gerard smiled, and even a small chuckle could be earned from him.
And he returned the hug.

--

“I learned when I was four” Billie said softly with a sweet and melancholic smile as his fingers moved gently in among the jet black jungle of hair. Gerard listened and smiled at a small detail that caused great effect on him; his boyfriend was opening up about something of his life, nothing intimate or something he would not dare to tell anyone else, but even if just a small fact, Gerard was learning something about who this person used to be, who he was. He was being let into the life of someone else. And it made him feel quite special, mainly due to this person being the guy he had once been so sure would remain as Platonic. “I grew up with three sisters older than me; they melted for little kids, so a four year old brother just got them”

Gerard gave a little laugh at how cute he could easily picture a four year old Billie Joe walking through a garden holding a small basket while following his sisters, helping them pick fruit or something.
“So they wanted me to do everything with them, y’know” Billie laughed softly as he continued on his task, right hand to the left crossing the middle, then left hand to the right side crossing the middle and so on and on. “Bake with them, help them pick their outfits, go shopping together and catwalk as they tried clothes and shoes on, and, of course, they so had to teach the little guy how to braid their hair”

As he said that, he used a small rubber band to keep the tip of the braided hair tight for it not to be undone, and he let go of Gerard’s hair. Both stayed in silence some moments, before Billie, who was previously on his knees behind his boyfriend, now sat down and brought the smaller guy’s back against him, wrapping his arms around Gerard and burying his face on top of the tenth grader’s head, nuzzling at it. Gerard laughed softly as he took his side braid and looked down at it, though he really could not see but the tip. His hair was long, but not like a mermaid’s or anything.
“I can’t believe you just braided your boyfriend’s hair” Gerard said with a smile, turning slightly to a side to look at Billie, who took advantage of it and pressed a big kiss on his boyfriend’s pale cheek. “You see how wrong it sounds?”
“Why?” Billie questioned. “It’s not like it’s illegal, y’know”

“Well, but we’re so in the thought of not being the cliché of Gay, and you just braided your boyfriend’s hair” Gerard said with a small laugh, which Billie had to join as well.
“Yeah, but I don’t mind” Billie said with a wide smile, standing his weight on his hands while keeping Gerard sat in his lap, staring at him and sharing the glance. “I enjoyed of it” the older guy commented, and after a few moments of just keeping the eyes on one another in mere silence, Billie moved a hand up and caressed his boyfriend’s head. “I like your hair…”
“I like that you liked it” Gerard commented with a small smile, not helping the soft but noticeable blush on his cheeks, while playing nervously with both hands with his braided hair. “Because I’d like for you to like me like I like you”

“Sweetheart, I think I like you even more than you like me” Billie said with one of his heart-melting smiles and adding a small laugh. Gerard blushed harder and he stared away, grinning. “And you know what I really like?” he asked lowly and he hugged Gerard by the waist, moving with the guy in arms so he made the tenth grader giggle as he shifted their position so Gerard laid down on the floor of his bedroom with Billie lying on top of him without crushing down the little guy, standing half of his own weight on his elbows, leaning down to peck all over Gerard’s face non-stop, making him giggle and blush. After a while spending it just like that, Billie moved a hand up and caressed the tenth grader’s hair away of his forehead. He stared at Gerard until the tenth grader stopped with the little laughs, and wrapped his shy arms around Billie’s neck with less fear than just the previous month, still smiling and almost nose-to-nose. Billie smiled. “That”

“What?” Gerard asked lowly, smiling and having his fingers playing with the twelfth grader’s hair.
“Your smile” Billie whispered to him, smiling and leaning down to kiss the small guy. They spent a while properly kissing, with their lips catching one another sweetly and quite softly but not shyly or fearful. After breaking apart, the twelfth grader rubbed his nose against Gerard’s, closing his eyes. “You smile ten times more than when I first met you, my little angel…” the older of the two whispered sweetly, before containing a sigh in his chest. “It moves me so much to see your progress…”
“Well” Gerard shrugged lightly, with the gaze down but a smile on his face. “I guess…I-I guess It’s partly your fault, so…” he chuckled. “You can’t be surprised, Mr. Armstrong”

“Well, I am!” Billie giggled softly, sitting up and pulling Gerard with him, the tenth grader keeping the arms hugging his boyfriend’s neck, while he pressed shy but multiple kisses to the older guy’s cheek. “We’ve been together since November…and, in only a few moments…you’ve turned in a quite different person. For good” Billie smiled. “You smile. You speak more…and your notes are getting slightly better, sweetheart”
A bit embarrassed but totally flattered, Gerard smiled but stared down, blushing and shrugging one of his shoulders, like not really knowing what to reply. Which was no lie, indeed.

Billie smiled sweetly at him, with a sparkle of what seemed to be either sadness or just a moved heart, and passed a lock of Gerard’s hair behind his ear.
“Your lil’ sparkle is showing, my Gee” he whispered to the younger teenager, bringing him closer and nuzzling at him like an affectionate lion. “Don’t let it fade…I love it”
“I’ll try” Gerard whispered back, smiling and, though not showing it, incredibly moved inside. He nuzzled back, and closed the eyes. “Thank you, Bee…you’re so good to me” he wrapped his arms around the older male. “I love you”
“And I love you” Billie replied softly and tenderly, bringing Gerard close to hug him and keep him tight in arms.

Billie had had created bonds with previous relationships, of course. But he was sure that, with no other person before had he stayed alone like that. Just hugged.
Sometimes, it scared him how much he really did feel towards Gerard.
Then he realized he was there, in his arms, and the world was beautiful all of a sudden.

--

Billie, like many other days, was hanging with Gerard at the hallways of school. Like usual, he arrived with the crappiest pick-up line he could find on the internet, and used it to break the ice and start the conversation with his secret boyfriend. They stayed together all over the small break, and some minutes before the bell rang, both of them started heading towards their respective classroom which, for their luck, was the same way. They had been laughing together a bit, while the cheerleaders gave both of them the oddest of looks as they passed by going the opposite to get to the outside for their daily practice, some of them ‘accidentally’ bumping into Gerard’s shoulders and keeping the chin way too up, and pretending the guy was invisible.

Just as they were about to reach the hallway where they had to say Goodbye for another two hours, the sound of heels hurrying behind them made them look over their shoulders.
“Ah! Billie, Gerard!” called a familiar voice, and both guys turned around. They smiled widely at Mrs. Collins as she caught up with them, looking happy, and a bit odd. Like usual. “How’re you doing?” She asked, and as they were opening their mouths, she continued. “Me too” none of the students took it as lack of interest. Just their usual weird teacher. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you guys, we’re starting rehearsals again next week, is that okay?”
“Yeah” both guys said happily, nodding.
“Great!” Mrs. Collins exclaimed. “I hope you remember your lines! And, of course, that you’re as excited as first time doing The Cat Duet” she widened a smile, and specifically looked at Gerard. “And Gerard, dear…I hope you won’t have any troubles with your voice this time”

“With my voice?” Gerard questioning, the smile gone and the head slightly tilted to a side, out of curiosity. “Why should I have any troubles with it now?”
“Well, you know” Mrs. Collins’ shoulders fell as she closed her eyes, bringing the back of one of his hands to his forehead, going drama there in mere hallway. “Puberty has started to consume you, my child”
“What do you mean?” Gerard ignored the drama.
“You’re growing, my kid!” she exclaimed, as upset as proud, apparently. “And your voice is changing with you…I’m afraid in a matter of a few months you won’t be able to sing as highly as you do now!”

Gerard stayed still. The sudden excitement that had built up in him when they were told when rehearsals were starting, and the previous joy of his conversation with Billie, had all suddenly faded away and stayed totally forgotten. Instead, Gerard started feeling worry inside.
Did that mean…that, one day, he would have to stop participating in The Cat Duet?
The only thing he did…the only thing he felt he was good at, the only thing that he enjoyed…
Did it have to go away one day?
Was it going to be taken by someone else?

“The good side of it” Mrs. Collins’ voice brought him back down from his cloud of thinking and onto standing on his feet on the world’s ground, “is that you’ve let your hair grow along you!” she clapped once, smiling at him. “Don’t you care cut it, or I’ll cut other things!” she said with a smile and an excitement that did not go according to her words. But none of the students were a tiny bit amused. “We’ve gotta work extra hard on it this time, you guys…” she said more sweetly this time. Then she looked again at Gerard, and caressed his hair in a motherly way. “And, despite the voice changing, I think we can still save something with the hair, right?”

Something inside Gerard shrank a bit, but he tried not to show anything that would reveal it on the outside. He forced a smile and nodded.
“Great!” she exclaimed, happily, as the bell rang. “Anyway, I’ll let you guys continue with your stuff” she turned around like never expecting goodbye, and started happily going away, slightly half dancing as she went, like she knew people would stare if she danced across the hallway but could not contain it a hundred percent.
“Anyway, I’ll leave you to your class now, Gee” Billie said with a smile at his friend, and moved a hand up to stroke slightly his hair, messing with the ponytail a bit. “Your hair is pretty. It’s going to look stunning on stage”
“Yeah” Gerard said with a bit of a nervous smile, which was either unnoticed by his boyfriend, or was merely ignored. “I, uhm, I’ll go now, I guess”

“Yep” Billie nodded. “See you later”
“See ya” Gerard replied quietly, waving slightly and smiling at the wink Billie gave him. Both turned around and entered their respective classrooms, Billie’s being three doors away from the nearest one they stopped by, which was where Gerard was to get in.

--

Half of the class had passed by when Gerard noticed he had a bit too much anxiety to really be worth staying any longer sat in that desk paying attention to the bullshit he was supposed to learn and understand. Screw school; it was but a place where they judged whether you are worth it or not. That was bullshit. Like he once read somewhere on the net; ‘if you judge a fish out of his ability to climb a tree, he’ll live the rest of his life thinking he’s useless’. What if he wanted to dance, to write, to act?
Or sing.

Gerard asked for permission to go to the bathroom. Frank had stared a bit at him along the class as Gerard did not stop biting his nails off and tapping the floor with a foot, and did not even really seem to notice at all what he was doing, but the kid with a lip piercing did not say a thing. Gerard was already a really weird guy, and Frank knew he had lots of manias and a hell world of problems on his shoulders, so he knew that Gerard sometimes needed to take a breath, and that he was the kind of person to tap the floor like a mad rabbit, bite nails off, scratch the back of his hands, play with his hair and bite it, and such kind of things, so he simply let the vampire-like guy be as he stood up and headed straight to the door, barely mumbling something to the teacher to be let outside and not even considering the lady’s opinion in his way out.

As his feet started dragging him to the bathroom, he stopped to think twice, and hesitated on his way. Standing in the middle of the hallway, Gerard thought. Well, he was the extremely clichéd dark-goth, pale bullied guy. Going to the bathroom while everybody was in class and nobody walked around the hallways and restrooms was not the best of ideas, for what he had learned. So he turned over his heels and starting heading another way. Looking behind himself a few times making sure nobody was following him, like this was a very dark street of a dangerous city at night instead of a mere school hallway, Gerard kept going until he reached the back doors. He kept going until he reached the school’s back parking lot, where there were only a few cars (some being teachers’, the rest, which were few enough to be counted with both hands only and a few fingers out, being from some senior year guys [or their parents’ car lent to them, at least]).

Gerard sighed and made sure nobody threatening or that he knew was nearby, and he went on for the nearest car to him. He looked at both sides and made sure nobody was in, wanting to prevent the embarrassment of standing there while the driver watched him, and once made sure nobody was around, he leaned down and look at himself in the small mirror on a side of the vehicle.

He stared at his pale face. A few people were right; it was not as round, but it did not look like he was sick either. He looked at his usual dark bags under the eyes, which had become as natural to him as a pair of ears. His yellowish and slightly crooked teeth. The girly eyebrows. The girly eyelashes. The girly lips. That girly look and vibe he spread around. Sometimes, he really did not identify at all with the masculinity of the male gender, despite still considering himself a male. He just was not interested in sports, cars, or whatever. Even if he had been interested in girls, he highly doubted he would be less girly than he was.

And the hair. Long; not long for a girl, but enough for a guy. Not like a clichéd metalhead, though. It reached some inches under his shoulders. It amazed him; it had been only a few months, and his hair grew like desperate. It was funny because he was hairless everywhere else. Not like he minded, anyway. He was still fifteen. He would not be surprised if his hair, by June, would be twice as long. He just did not have to cut it. No. It was his hair. It was his…it was his talent. It was what people thought was his talent. If he cut it, they would see the loser underneath. He really considered he had not done the greatest work as an actor…he just…let his hair grow. That was it. Everybody mistook his “I don’t want a wig, I’ll let my hair grow” as “I’m very talented, a great actor”. That was why they clapped to him. It was not his skills. It was his hair.

Gerard took his ponytail to a side over his shoulder, and caressed it, staring at it through the mirror. Was it really a big mistake? Maybe he really did have no talent at all like people reminded him every day before moving, and even after that. Maybe all the people who had clapped at him in this new school had just mistaken his hair for his skills. That greasy, ugly jet black thing that sprouted from his head…that was what people saw and tagged as Gerard. Without it, he was…the same weirdo as always, was not he? The loser, the guy who can do nothing but interrupt classes with stupid comments, and still failed everything.

As in the singing, people had clapped for Lily’s mezzo-soprano voice. Not Gerard’s tenor. And his voice was changing. That meant that when he grew older, just in a matter of a year or two, and his voice took shape, people would totally forget about his other ‘talent’ as well. Because it was not the skills; it was the color of Lily singing. Not Gerard’s singing. Not his skills. And also, what if his voice changed by June and he had to be totally replaced by someone else now that there was no excuse to use him as last source? Oh god, because that was what he had been, just a second place, just the emergency supply, the only thing that was left, the only thing they went to in desperation, not out of liking what he did. They did not look for him because he could do stuff; they went after him because he was the only thing left that kind of fitted the thing.

And if they replaced him…that meant that somebody had to be Lily. Somebody had to be Derek’s girlfriend. Act on-stage with Billie. Hug him. Caress him.
Kiss him.

Gerard gripped tightly his hair, swallowing. His entire torso felt ticklish inside, in a way that did not made him feel funny but rather upset and worried. He thought for a second that there could as well be a black hole inside of him that was sucking everything in without him knowing, but he threw away that thought. His stomach shrank. He gripped his hair with both hands, shyly. It had to remain long. Never ever cut it again. He had to keep acting with the long hair. He had to keep singing with the girl voice. He could not grow up. He could not grow up. He could not change; he was not happy with who he was in his present, but that was the less fucked up he had ever been; so if things could not be better, he at least wanted them to stay as they were. They were very screwed up, but that was the best he had been, and if they stayed like that, fantastic! They could not get worse. Well, they could, but he had to do all to avoid it.

He kept a long sigh in his chest, and stood straight again. And, like Spiderman, he did not need to turn around or hear a single thing; it just rang in his head and called for him, exactly who, what, when and where.

He was standing there, behind him, arms crossed. And one more behind him.
Oh, fuck.

“This ain’t the bathroom, you know?” Gerard questioned without even turning around, letting go of his hair, and starting to walk away.
“Yo, wait a minute” Lance’s voice called from behind as he, with a small laugh, went to reach for Gerard, gripping him by the arm and stopping him. Gerard frowned and hissed more in anger than in pain as he muttered a curse. “What were you doing, princess? Checking your make-up is alright?”
“It’s fine, thank you very much” Gerard replied with the most sarcastic smile he had ever given, pulling from his arm again. “You know, if you were appearing anyway, I’d of have gone to the fucking bathroom anyway”
“What, you thought you could skip your daily dose if you just went somewhere else, loser?” Lance questioned with a smile, before laughing a few seconds. “Wow, so pathetic he already knows where and when we’re catching up with him! Isn’t that-?“

“Funny” Gerard finished with another of his incredibly disgusted smiles. “Yeah, Leo over there is pissing in laughter” he said referring to the other jock standing behind, who looked a bit stunned when Gerard called his name and pointed at him, and did not stare down at the floor begging to be freed. “Can I go now? I really don’t feel like this today, you know?”
“I don’t care, Way” Lance growled, his smile fading and the frown appearing on his face as he tightened his grip on Gerard’s skinny arm, making him groan lightly in pain this time, staring away and fighting a few tears. “Listen, faggot, staring at you makes me sick”
What a coincidence!
Staring at me is disgusting, isn’t it?
“I just…hate to feel like watching the entire gay parade when you walk by” Lance continued, a bit lower this time, like this was a serious issue and not just another of his almost daily dose of bullying. “The long hair, the swinging hips when you walk, the way of standing, your…stupid giggle, and the sickly gayness of your whole face makes me want to throw up”

“Ah, so you stare at my hips when I walk” Gerard replied with a sly smile, but he did not dare on winking an eye at the other. He witnessed Lance’s blood rushing up to his cheeks, and he felt very flattered when, by the corner of the eye, he could see Leonard trying to contain a huge laugh.
“You just did not-” was all that Lance muttered before he threw his first punch to Gerard’s face. The small guy groaned as his head snapped to the left, and he stayed stupid for a few moments, enough for Lance to grip him from the shirt instead. With a new growl, Lance hit him on the other cheek, and Gerard’s head snapped the other side. “You were born with a pathetic excuse of a penis, weren’t you? Fucking act like the man you’re supposed to be”

Gerard’s head rested and so it went down but to the center. He breathed heavily through the nose, and exhaled through the mouth, letting a thin path of blood start marking its path down his chin. He moved his shaky hands up and gripped Lance’s wrist, and though it was usual from the bullied guys Lance treated with for them to do that as a reflex, this time it looked a bit more like Gerard had not done it out of instinct but as an act of defense, even though he caused no single bit of harm against the jock.
“Stop with the fucking girly giggles” Lance growled and so he hit Gerard again, this time with a slap. “The fucking gayness” and the slap went back. “What? Do you have no balls?”

And said that, his knee hit Gerard’s crotch, not too rough like Lance would have done if serious, but still…it was the nuts. The nuts.
Gerard groaned louder this time and, as Lance let go of his shirt, Gerard fell to his knees, hissing in pain and placing both hands on his crotch. Once on his knees, his forehead carefully met the ground, but he still managed to harm it a little as he did. God, the bathroom was a heck lot better for a beat up. At least that floor was not raspy.
“Oops…I think you do” Lance said with a smirk, and Leo laughed on the background. Both jocks stayed there, staring at the groaning kid at their feet, gripping his crotch and suffering through it. They let a few seconds pass by, just watching him tremble, until the guy could calm down a bit and get out of the massive pain, but still focusing on it. As the guys stared at him, Leo furrowed his eyebrows, and stared at Gerard like analyzing him.

“Hmm…” sounded in Leonard’s throat as he watched the guy, taking a few steps ahead to stand beside Lance, arms crossed, but soon moving a hand up to caress his chin, thinking toughly through stuff. “Something still doesn’t feel enough, Lance…”
“Why do you say so, Leo?” the jock questioned his friend, smirking and raising an eyebrow. Leonard was kind of his right hand, and even though he was much more calm than Lance, he could have as cruel ideas and soul.
“You know, you already worked on his face for him to look like a man” Leo mentioned, and then stared at his friend, smiling widely. “But the haircut’s for a girl”

Gerard’s eyes went open wide. Just as his legs trembled and he was about to stand up and burst away running before he even realized he had moved an inch, he was immediately gripped by the ponytail roughly by a big hand and pulled up. He yelped out in pain and fear, gripping the wrist of the hand that held his hair and which made him stand on his knees again with the head thrown back. He heard them laugh a bit, and soon the sound of a pair of scissors opening. Fuck.

“Lance” he whispered at first, and despite the pain, his eyes widened like he was being terrified by a ghost. Then, he started speaking quickly, and all strength and sarcasm had been washed away from his voice and he returned to the absolutely harmless, vulnerable, horrified guy. “Please, Lance, listen, you don’t know what-“
“Haha, now you’re not as smart, are you?” Lance laughed at him. “Scared of looking like a man? Wanna stay a girly girl, Way?”
“Lance, please, I’m begging you, I’m begging you-”

Don’t panic, Gerard, Billie’s going to appear and-

Snip.

Gerard suddenly snapped down to the ground, but the reflexes made his hands get in the way, so he was now standing in four, trembling.  His eyes stayed totally open like dishes, and his mouth stayed opened, but for harder he tried, he had totally forgotten how to breathe. He could feel his hands burning from landing on the raspy ground. He felt his lungs getting squeezed, and his stomach shrinking. He could feel his heart pumping loudly in his ears and throat. He could feel the temples throbbing.
But he could not feel any extra warmth on his nape.

The elastic band he used to keep his hair combed was lying at a side of his right hand, staring at him with deadness. Like it had no meaning to exist anymore. And there were a couple of locks of his hair around as well. One, two, twenty, maybe even fifty lying on the ground around of his hands.
It was on the ground. Not on his head.
Not on his head.

Gerard stayed totally still for some moments, just hearing Leonard and Lance laughing and celebrating like they had scored the best touchdown of history, and Gerard could just move up to sit his ass on his ankles, and he moved his trembling hands up. They burned. He moved one of them to the back of his head, and stayed away of it some moments, hesitating and totally terrified. Then it got closer to his nape. And he felt his nape. He felt the skin of it under locks of hair. There was no bulkiness. He actually had skin under the nape.

Letting more seconds pass by and barely breathing, Gerard moved the other hand back there as well, and touched around. His hair. It was…it was…

“Short!” Lance exclaimed with pride. “It fits a man much better!”

Gerard, still breathing with difficulty and feeling as if though they had taken a son of his away of his arms, turned around to stare at the guys, and his heart dropped to the ground along the few locks of hair that laid around. There, in a fist, Lance held his ponytail in the air, gripping it like it was the biggest prize ever. Gerard felt terrified; like he was standing before a murderer, who held Gerard’s entrails up with the guy still alive to see it before really finishing him. Gerard looked at it horrified, and Lance and Leonard just kept laughing.
“I’ll be keeping this!” Lance exclaimed, raising the hand that kept the cut off ponytail. “It’s going to look beautiful on my wall!” he joked.

Leonard high-fived him, and with that, both guys started walking away. Gerard stayed there, sat on the ground. He had the hands on the back of his head, like cutting his hair had caused him to start bleeding and he was trying to avoid the blood from coming out. His eyes stayed glued to the guys who walked away together, like a happy pair of innocent guys. Like they had not just destroyed an entire world of something.

Gerard stayed still, too shocked to really react. He felt his entrails working. They used to cry their lungs out in sorrow when he felt as incredibly hurt as he knew he was feeling in the moment. But, now, the entrails were not crying. They were barking and growling, desperate and drowned in anger, rather than in sadness.

Gerard, though, stayed thrown on the ground, shocked, and just let the rest of his class fly by with him sat on the parking lot, with the ponytail gone, and his talent and self-esteem along.

But the anger…oh, that stayed.

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Idunno09
Yola
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Mexico
Hello :aww:

Here's a bit about me:

:bulletblack: Eighteen.
:bulletblack: Pansexual.
:bulletblack: Short.
:bulletblack: Amateur author
:bulletblack: Student of music.


My real birthday is January 11. Not January 23.

But if you come here in 23 to wish me a happy birthday, I don't mind. It's a mistake I did when I joined deviantArt.


Requests are always opened: feel free to ask!
Feedback is really appreciated too :aww:


:bulletred: My friends here in devA :bulletred:

My first friends: :iconsisterofgrace::iconmotleyprincess::iconpoisonkiss13666::iconburningsun95::iconmiharumatsuo::iconnattie-bug::iconcanadian-muffin::iconcivicusdreamer:
My Taco friend: :iconcacuga:
My (internet) big sister: :iconllamasaysquack:
My Billierard Buddy::icon2d-kiryu:
My Bike buddy: :iconsalty-runner:
A really unique person: :iconpampd:
Seems to be that I'm married: :icongirlofhearts:
My grandkid (on the internet): :iconmissmusicchanel:

I guess that's me. If you want to know anything else (Which I highly doubt) feel free to ask :meow:


Current Residence: Mexico
Favourite genre of music: Alternative / Punk/ Rock
Personal Quote: "I'd rather perish beside a friend, than go on without them"
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:iconvintage-lightning:
vintage-lightning Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hello friend! I am a lot older since I last talked to you and likem..I seriously want to return the favor for the two requests you did for me..I know they were requests but I would very much like to return the favor now that I feel like I can..

I don't write on here anymore but you can find my stuff on wattpad as Alpha-Blue-Narwhal w.tt/1JiRTDk I hope you van get back to me
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:iconidunno09:
Idunno09 Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hey! How have you been?

Ah, and don't worry about that, really. I took requests because I adored to work on it, not because I wanted it as job or an obligation or something. So no need to give anything in return, I did it with pleasure! :happybounce:
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:iconvintage-lightning:
vintage-lightning Featured By Owner May 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
noooo I wanna write something for you~! and ive been better...just missing the good old days on here....
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:iconidunno09:
Idunno09 Featured By Owner May 15, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Heh, then I guess any fic you'd want to gift me is okay :blushes:
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:iconpampd:
pampd Featured By Owner Feb 6, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Hey dude guess who's decided to come and give a random nice hug? :icondragonglomp::icondragonhug: Hope everything's cool and good on your side of the planet. c:
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:iconidunno09:
Idunno09 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
YO! 
My, you're so sweet, cheered up my day :tighthug:
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:iconnoxious-purity:
Noxious-Purity Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Belated Birthday! I'm sorry it's so late, I haven't been on DA for awhile.
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:iconidunno09:
Idunno09 Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
That's so sweet, thank you :huggle::heart:
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:iconnoxious-purity:
Noxious-Purity Featured By Owner Feb 6, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! I just figured I would. :hug:
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:iconidunno09:
Idunno09 Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
:blush:
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