And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 21
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*Tré*
He sat in his and Billie's room, lying back on the bed. With a moan, he covered his face with a pillow, smothering himself. Just like he could still breathe, he could still hear movement in the room beside his. Maybe he was a bit sadistic, because he was not sure why he was torturing himself like this.
He knew there was nothing wrong with what was going on. In fact, he'd probably be concerned if there wasn't. Of course, it did not make him feel any better right now. Tré groaned again and rolled to his stomach. This whole baby thing had smashed away what little hope he had. Mike had stiff necked morals. There was no way he'd break off with Wren any time soon.
Morals. Pfft. How convenient. Maybe it only applies to girls and guys. I mean, what about me? Just a nice casual person to fuck when you need it and nothing else? Nothing. Not even a "Sorry Tré, it's not going to happen again" to shut me down. I know I ain't got an ice cube's chance in hell, but he never actually said no.
Tré was not stupid. He knew. He had seen the way Mike's eyes would drift. The way those gorgeous blue orbs would jitter guiltily away when Tré's gaze met his. He knew what Mike was thinking, sometimes. It was enough to drive a guy off the deep end. I need a girlfriend he thought. Or a hobby. Quietly, Tré screamed his frustration into the pillow. He liked the effect so much, he started roaring whatever came to mind.
"I HATE...tiddlywinks. Leeeeeeeaving meeeee alllllllone. Shite! ShiteshiteshiteSHIIITE! Baaananaaaaas. Eeeeeyah! Monkey bitches." Realizing that this was not really doing anything, he threw the pillow on the floor. Despondently, he scuttled out of his room and back to the living room.
Billie Joe was doing the unthinkable and attempting to do some homework. He threw down his pen as Tré entered. "Good. I was trying to think up an excuse so I could quit." He stretched out on the couch. Tré shambled over to his kit. Maybe a little playing will take my mind off things. Tré tried to play wildly, but the drum rolls sounded stuttery and the cymbal hits were just pathetic.
"You alright man? Did you have enough sugar today? You're looking a little..." Billie Joe screwed up his face in thought. "I don't know...flat."
Tré rubbed his eyes, using the motion to hide his face. His mother always said that it was too easy to tell when he lied, his eyes gave him away. "Yeah. I'm alright, maybe got a bit of a cold coming on or something. Fuckin' cold outside."
"Colder then I've ever seen, that's for sure. We better dress for it tonight."
"Yeah, and watch out for the pool. Fall in and you'd be a god damn icicle."
"A pool? She has a pool?"
"Well," Tré shrugged, "She's loaded. Why wouldn't she? Oooooh! Let's get some shit to put in the pool."
"Actual shit or do you mean stuff shit?"
"I mean shit shit."
Billie Joe rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm fresh out... We'll have to wait."
"The world doesn't revolve around your<i/> shit supply. Other people have asses too, you know."
The guitarist snickered and retorted, "But none are as gorgeous."
*Wren*
Several hours later, the four conspirators were piled into the car, cruising through the night. Lieutenant DriverGuy and Corporal WhoLooksLikesTheBadassMuscle were in the front, mainly because the Corporal needed to be able to get out fast if the Emperor and Corporal SneaksAroundForInformationChick needed him. Tré was sitting behind Billie Joe, with a strange bag half hidden in his coat. Wren shoved him.
"What's that?"
"Do you really want to know?" He bugged out his eyes and slid his hand under his jacket.
Figuring it couldn't be too bad, Wren set out a challenge. "Try me."
Tré whipped out the bag and waved it in her face. "Ha! See!" Since it was a paper bag, she could see exactly nothing. She grabbed it and looked inside. In the front, Billie Joe cringed.
"Whistles? What the heck?" Mike and Billie Joe burst out laughing, mostly in relief. "Are we going to whistle out a deep dark secret?" Wren pursued.
"No. It's a precaution. I wouldn't expect you to know about such things," he winked to show the jibe was not supposed to be hurtful. "If we run into trouble, one of us blows the whistle and the other blows theirs and then we run away."
"And we can't just yell because why?"
Mike twisted around in his seat. "Sometimes, we are reminded why you're the newbie."
"If you yell," Tré explained patronizingly, "Then they can recognize your voice. And if they can recognize your voice, [i]then they can get you,"he finished dramatically. He blinked and interrupted the faux-tension, "Are we there yet?"
Billie Joe peered forward as if that would make the house appear. "I have--"
"Are we there yet?"
"I--"
"ArewethereyetArewethereyet? Are. We. There. Yet?" Billie Joe kept silent. "I said.....ARE WE THERE YET? Billlllieeeeee!"
"If you would---"
"Are we there yet?"
Mike shook his head and stared out the window. Billie Joe counted to ten quietly.
"As I was saying, if you would close your mouth for--"
"Are we there yet?"
"--FIVE SECONDS! Then you would know that I'm not sure where we are. I've never been to her fucking house!" Billie Joe exploded before Tré could interrupt him, again.
"Well, there's no need to get huffy," Mike told him.
He sat in his and Billie's room, lying back on the bed. With a moan, he covered his face with a pillow, smothering himself. Just like he could still breathe, he could still hear movement in the room beside his. Maybe he was a bit sadistic, because he was not sure why he was torturing himself like this.
He knew there was nothing wrong with what was going on. In fact, he'd probably be concerned if there wasn't. Of course, it did not make him feel any better right now. Tré groaned again and rolled to his stomach. This whole baby thing had smashed away what little hope he had. Mike had stiff necked morals. There was no way he'd break off with Wren any time soon.
Morals. Pfft. How convenient. Maybe it only applies to girls and guys. I mean, what about me? Just a nice casual person to fuck when you need it and nothing else? Nothing. Not even a "Sorry Tré, it's not going to happen again" to shut me down. I know I ain't got an ice cube's chance in hell, but he never actually said no.
Tré was not stupid. He knew. He had seen the way Mike's eyes would drift. The way those gorgeous blue orbs would jitter guiltily away when Tré's gaze met his. He knew what Mike was thinking, sometimes. It was enough to drive a guy off the deep end. I need a girlfriend he thought. Or a hobby. Quietly, Tré screamed his frustration into the pillow. He liked the effect so much, he started roaring whatever came to mind.
"I HATE...tiddlywinks. Leeeeeeeaving meeeee alllllllone. Shite! ShiteshiteshiteSHIIITE! Baaananaaaaas. Eeeeeyah! Monkey bitches." Realizing that this was not really doing anything, he threw the pillow on the floor. Despondently, he scuttled out of his room and back to the living room.
Billie Joe was doing the unthinkable and attempting to do some homework. He threw down his pen as Tré entered. "Good. I was trying to think up an excuse so I could quit." He stretched out on the couch. Tré shambled over to his kit. Maybe a little playing will take my mind off things. Tré tried to play wildly, but the drum rolls sounded stuttery and the cymbal hits were just pathetic.
"You alright man? Did you have enough sugar today? You're looking a little..." Billie Joe screwed up his face in thought. "I don't know...flat."
Tré rubbed his eyes, using the motion to hide his face. His mother always said that it was too easy to tell when he lied, his eyes gave him away. "Yeah. I'm alright, maybe got a bit of a cold coming on or something. Fuckin' cold outside."
"Colder then I've ever seen, that's for sure. We better dress for it tonight."
"Yeah, and watch out for the pool. Fall in and you'd be a god damn icicle."
"A pool? She has a pool?"
"Well," Tré shrugged, "She's loaded. Why wouldn't she? Oooooh! Let's get some shit to put in the pool."
"Actual shit or do you mean stuff shit?"
"I mean shit shit."
Billie Joe rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm fresh out... We'll have to wait."
"The world doesn't revolve around your<i/> shit supply. Other people have asses too, you know."
The guitarist snickered and retorted, "But none are as gorgeous."
*Wren*
Several hours later, the four conspirators were piled into the car, cruising through the night. Lieutenant DriverGuy and Corporal WhoLooksLikesTheBadassMuscle were in the front, mainly because the Corporal needed to be able to get out fast if the Emperor and Corporal SneaksAroundForInformationChick needed him. Tré was sitting behind Billie Joe, with a strange bag half hidden in his coat. Wren shoved him.
"What's that?"
"Do you really want to know?" He bugged out his eyes and slid his hand under his jacket.
Figuring it couldn't be too bad, Wren set out a challenge. "Try me."
Tré whipped out the bag and waved it in her face. "Ha! See!" Since it was a paper bag, she could see exactly nothing. She grabbed it and looked inside. In the front, Billie Joe cringed.
"Whistles? What the heck?" Mike and Billie Joe burst out laughing, mostly in relief. "Are we going to whistle out a deep dark secret?" Wren pursued.
"No. It's a precaution. I wouldn't expect you to know about such things," he winked to show the jibe was not supposed to be hurtful. "If we run into trouble, one of us blows the whistle and the other blows theirs and then we run away."
"And we can't just yell because why?"
Mike twisted around in his seat. "Sometimes, we are reminded why you're the newbie."
"If you yell," Tré explained patronizingly, "Then they can recognize your voice. And if they can recognize your voice, [i]then they can get you,"he finished dramatically. He blinked and interrupted the faux-tension, "Are we there yet?"
Billie Joe peered forward as if that would make the house appear. "I have--"
"Are we there yet?"
"I--"
"ArewethereyetArewethereyet? Are. We. There. Yet?" Billie Joe kept silent. "I said.....ARE WE THERE YET? Billlllieeeeee!"
"If you would---"
"Are we there yet?"
Mike shook his head and stared out the window. Billie Joe counted to ten quietly.
"As I was saying, if you would close your mouth for--"
"Are we there yet?"
"--FIVE SECONDS! Then you would know that I'm not sure where we are. I've never been to her fucking house!" Billie Joe exploded before Tré could interrupt him, again.
"Well, there's no need to get huffy," Mike told him.
