Broken Glass Inside My Head, chapter 14

Tré was busy washing dishes when the phone rang. His hands were slippery and full of soap, but he usually didn't mind that. Actually, he didn't really mind washing dishes at all, because he had bought the kind of dish soup that acts as a sort of lotion too, so his hands came out feeling quite soft. He liked his hands soft.
Anyhow, hands smooth or not, today this posed a problem. In order to answer the phone in time, Tré would have to dry his hands super speedily and then dash across the kitchen. Perhaps he was still a bit shaky from the dentist, causing him to drop the plate he was holding. Naturally, it broke.
With a muttered "shit" that didn't seem to do anything to fix the situation, Tré wiped his hands on the dish towel and hopped over the shards lying on the ground. At least he got to the phone on time.
"Hello?" he answered.
"It's Mike."
"Hey, what's up?" he asked casually. "What'd you and Billie Joe do while I was off being attacked by the dentist?"
"Err, that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," said Mike.
Tré picked up on the note of discomfort present in his friend's voice. He sighed. "Mike, what happened?" He could already tell this wasn't going to be the most pleasant conversation.
"I found a suicide note and I sorta went off on him. But the least he could do is admit what he was going to do. He tried to pass it off as a therapy assignment; can you believe that?"
Surprisingly, Tré was actually a lot more logical and levelheaded in these situations than Mike chose to be. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he wasn't lying?" he said quietly. "I mean, it would make sense if it was an assignment; it's not too far-fetched.
"I guess," Mike allowed.
"Come on, Mike. Use your head! Did you think that maybe you could have called his doctor and made sure before you started yelling? He could have been telling the truth, and you just left him hanging there! What if he did something?"
On the other end, Mike was horrified. What had he done? "I think I'd better go apologize," was all he could manage to say before he hung up the phone.
About five minutes later, once Mike had called to verify that Billie Joe was in fact telling the truth, he got into his car and drove the familiar route toward Billie Joe's house.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to be such an asshole sometimes? Why hadn't he just believed Billie Joe?

***

Billie Joe walked slowly into the kitchen and passed by the chairs around the table, instead sinking into a sitting position against one of the cabinets. While he still had the knife in his grasp that he'd gotten from the bathroom drawer earlier, he had managed to hold off actually doing anything with it for a good hour. If he hadn't been so emotionally wasted, he might have been consequently proud of himself.
Though, the time didn't really seem to matter much, because in the end he meant to do it anyway. He'd only succeeded in delaying his bitter intentions.
In fact, the real reason it was taking him so long was due to the battle that had been raging in his mind. Why should he succumb to the never-ending cycle that his self-abuse brought along with it? Wouldn't it be better to end it all? He could pin the blame on euthanasia afterwards; it was basically the same principle, only taking your own life instead of somebody else's.
And, Mike seemed to almost want it that way, what with arguing about it. Why shouldn't he prove Mike right? He was pathetic. But underneath it all, he subconsciously wished that someone would prove him wrong. He just needed someone to tell him he was alright; it wouldn't take much.
Billie Joe shifted his position a tiny bit, so that the floor wasn't cutting into his bones quite as much. He held the knife in front of him, examining it. Why was it that something you could hold in your hands could take away your life so easily? It didn't seem to make much sense.
The metal edge glinted in the dim light that shone forth from the ceiling. It appeared to be winking at him, laughing at him even. The blade was malevolent. It was in that moment that Billie Joe realized he really did not want to kill himself. He had no desire to even hurt himself anymore. All he wanted was for someone to stumble through his door and let him cry into them.
As it turned out, someone higher up must have been watching over him, because at that precise moment, Mike arrived and nearly pounded down the door in his rush to get to Billie Joe. Tré's words from before had elicited a feeling of the need for urgency in him, and he didn't want to take any chances; he had to get there fast.
He stood only a few feet away from Billie Joe, his heart palpitating furiously in his chest and his breaths coming out in short pants. His eyes flicked from the knife in Billie Joe's hand to his wrists, which looked to be puzzlingly devoid of new scars-in-the-making. Had he actually gotten there on time for once?
The both of them were locked into each other's appearances, unmoving. Neither of them took it upon themselves to speak. The silence and the emotions held in their eyes were ten times more powerful than anything they could have said.
Once the passing of understanding had occurred, Mike swiftly glided over to Billie Joe and knelt down before him. He delicately removed Billie Joe's weapon and slid it away across the floor. Almost instantly Billie Joe reached out for Mike and they were caught in a crushing embrace.
Billie Joe buried his face into Mike's shoulder and breathed in his warmth. There was nowhere he would rather be. He was so relieved that his best friend was there and everything felt okay for once.
Mike was also feeling immense relief, because if he had read the look in Billie Joe's eyes right, he had just stopped something from happening that could have changed his life forever. He was so thankful that he had called Tré and Tré had smacked some sense into him. And, of course, he was glad he had come over.
Suddenly reminded of his main reason for dropping in on Billie Joe in the first place, he choked out, "I'm sorry."
His words evoked what remaining tears Billie Joe had saved up for emergencies to escape from his eyes. Mike soon realized that his friend was crying via the sudden onslaught of wetness suddenly present on his shirt. This was courtesy of both the tears and the good amount of snot pouring out of his nose.
Somewhere between all of this, Billie Joe extracted his head from Mike and gasped, "I promise I'll try really hard. Just...stay with me, please." He moved back to his place of comfort and hugged him even tighter.
Mike assured Billie Joe, "I'll never leave you. Never." He wanted to make sure Billie Joe knew that.
Mike didn't think they had ever been closer. He hoped with all of his heart that it would stay this way and that Billie Joe's life would get better; he really did.
Even long after all of the tears were shed, they stayed on the floor together for awhile. After all they'd been through, it was comforting just to be near each other. It felt natural, safe. It felt good to be safe.

***

"Do you remember that one day Tré got so wasted he started proclaiming his love for everyone that walked by - women and men?"
Billie Joe choked on his Sprite at the mention of this memory. The combined effect of Mike's words and the rather silly music video that he was half-watching had been just the thing to spark a giggle. He made sure to swallow the remaining soda before laughing again and said, "Yeah. How could I forget? 'Hey, sugar, you want to- ouch! What do you have in your purse, rocks?'"
Mike started laughing hysterically and gasped out, wheezes separating the words, "That...was...so...great." His body was shaking so hard that some of his soda slopped over the edges of the can, (it being freshly opened) and spilled onto a rather precarious spot on his pants.
"Mike," Billie Joe grinned smugly. "You seem to have leaked."
Mike glanced down at himself. "Why yes, it certainly seems so." He chuckled and then pointed to a drip of the dip that had fallen off of the chips they were eating previously and onto Billie Joe's chest. "You're not so clean yourself, either."
Billie Joe gasped and then frantically tried to wipe the white glob off of his shirt, only succeeding in rubbing it deeper into the material and spreading its evil influence. He glared at Mike. "This is all your fault, you know. If you hadn't, uh, uh, asked for some dip, this never would've happened!"
"Hey, don't go blaming this on me. You're the one who got the chips out. It's only natural for me to then want dip. Chips and dip go together. See, they even rhyme! Chip, dip." Mike beamed, clearly thinking that his wit had outmatched Billie Joe's this time.
Billie Joe struggled to come up with an intelligent sounding remark to counter Mike's. He finally came up with one. However, it didn't end up being so clever. "Oh yeah? Well, you know what else rhymes with chip? Whip! Which means, I, uh, whipped you!" He immediately flinched after the words came out of his mouth. Sometimes he would have liked to strangle himself.
Mike sighed and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, pretending to be high above his friend's line of thinking. "Billie...just shut up already. You lost; face it!"
He stuck out his lip and pouted. "Just because I'm not as smart as you doesn't mean I can't still try!" he whined. "I feel so discriminated against!"
Mike's eye twitched. "Billie Joe, seriously, you're dumb. Please, stop talking before you hurt yourself. I'm sure it's not healthy to ramble on and not even know what you're talking about." They both laughed a little to themselves.
After Mike's last statement the two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, Billie Joe picking a spot on the floor to stare at, Mike choosing to stare blankly at the television that was still playing for no apparent reason. They were both thinking how nice it was just to relax.
Billie Joe broke the silence with the question that had popped into his mind while he was reflecting. "You ever think what it would be like if we had never met?"
His eyes snapping up to Billie Joe's face, Mike appeared to consider it for a moment. Then he smiled and replied, "If I hadn't met you, chances are I'd probably be getting it on with the hot daughter of a fisherman somewhere in the middle of Alaska. Just think, it's all because of you that I'm stuck here without female company!" He shot Billie Joe a playful glare.
Billie Joe raised his eyebrows and the corners of his lips curled up in a slight smile. He shook his head. "You know, I was being serious. But I suppose I might as well go along with it, so...I would definitely be living in India, and at this very moment I would be riding my elephant, Zabuza!"
Mike stroked his imaginary beard in thought. He nodded slowly and said, "Yes, I could picture you in India. Very good choice, old chap!"
"Well it's not like I had the choice, since it's what would have happened. So there." He stuck his tongue out towards the other end of the couch.
Mike pulled back and raised his arms as if admitting defeat. "Okay, you've got me there. You win...this time." He grinned.
Ignoring the end addition to his sentence completely, Billie Joe said, "You know what? We should have some ice cream. But before that, I have a serious need to go to the bathroom!" He stood up from his seat and stretched his arms over his head, yawning as he did so.
"I really didn't need to know that," Mike made known to his friend. What had the world come to with people announcing all over the place that they had to go to the bathroom? It was indecent!
"Oh, you know you really did. The whole world's very existence depended on it." Billie Joe winked and sauntered out of the room to take care of his business, leaving Mike to chuckle alone to himself.