Another kind of Idiot. (Sequel to Loser. Weirdo. Faggot.), chapter 10
Billie opened his heavy eyes, stifling a yawn. What the fuck? What time was it? He was in Mike's living room, but outside was pitch black. He fumbled around the room, trying to find a light. "Dammit... " He whimpered, falling into something he had no clue what it was. His fingertips closed around a light switch. He flipped it upwards.
Staring right into the light, he shrunk back, covering his eyes. He was seeing spots. Just like his life. All he could see was bits and pieces. Blurs fading in and out. But not getting the whole picture. He shook his head back, watching a little bit of his reddish- brown hair go into vision. He needed to die that again. It was getting old.
He found himself in the kitchen, finally fully getting where he was. "Mike?" he yelled, re closing his eyes. He felt dizzy. Still tired. He was dreaming, but couldn't remember what it was about, or why he had suddenly woken up. There was no answer from Mike, or even Tre, for that matter. He slumped down on the floor.
"Hmm..." His eyes began to glaze over, feeling suspiciously bored. He played with the corners of his shirt. After enough pulling and adjusting on his shirt, something caught his eye. A bruise. But not one from just now, blindly flailing around it the dark; it was more like a scar. Ingrained into his skin. A sort of "battle wound" he called it, from getting beat up in his high school days.
He wished he would have stood up for himself more. He had, as much as he could, but it only seemed to make him get hit harder. He had sort of shrugged it off then, being much more of a kid. But it sort of bothered him now. If he would have known now what he knew then, he would have been on their asses three ways 'till Sunday. So much for bravery.
He passed over a sigh, closing his eyes. He could sleep right there. Right on the floor. As much as he wanted too, however, he decided against it.
It was Mike's place, and he wouldn't mind, but his roommates were another story. They were about the most annoying, bitchy people you could think of. Always thought they were better than everyone else. Mike deserved to live someplace better.
Shortly after he had "quit" school, Mike's family began to disown him. The drugs, the drinking, the scene. It was destroying both of them. Him, and Mike. Billie's parents wanted him to get help. Mike's parents just didn't want him. He felt sorry for the guy, being his best friend. Mike was fucked up. Not that he was any better at that point, so if they were gonna be fucked up, they might as well be fucked up together.
It was fun back then. Parties almost every night, midnight trips to the grocery store where Casey worked to get food because they had the munchies, other pointless shit. But it was still fun. No one could deny that. They spent all their time together. Holidays, weekends, everything except school days. Mike went to school, and he went and hauled himself up in his room until he got home. Then they'd hang out again.
All of a sudden, Mike got serious. He'd done the drugs, done the harm, done the fun. But it was enough for him. Billie had to give him credit. If he hadn't gone through all that shit to stop all that addiction the party life, both of them would probably be dead.
Mike was buckled down now. He had finished high school, and was planning to go to a community college when he got the chance. Although he still dropped acid or some other random drug from time to time, he was pretty much clean. It was like he was going through the "5 step program", but without the five steps.
All that on Mike's part had given himself to have the will to quit smoking. For a little while, at least. He sighed, getting comfortable on his spot on the floor, his back supported by the door frame. It would probably start all over once they went on the tour. Probably.
"Oh well," he thought to himself. If it happened, it happened. They were legal adults now, right? They'd have more control. "I think," he noted to himself, finally drifting back off to sleep.
Staring right into the light, he shrunk back, covering his eyes. He was seeing spots. Just like his life. All he could see was bits and pieces. Blurs fading in and out. But not getting the whole picture. He shook his head back, watching a little bit of his reddish- brown hair go into vision. He needed to die that again. It was getting old.
He found himself in the kitchen, finally fully getting where he was. "Mike?" he yelled, re closing his eyes. He felt dizzy. Still tired. He was dreaming, but couldn't remember what it was about, or why he had suddenly woken up. There was no answer from Mike, or even Tre, for that matter. He slumped down on the floor.
"Hmm..." His eyes began to glaze over, feeling suspiciously bored. He played with the corners of his shirt. After enough pulling and adjusting on his shirt, something caught his eye. A bruise. But not one from just now, blindly flailing around it the dark; it was more like a scar. Ingrained into his skin. A sort of "battle wound" he called it, from getting beat up in his high school days.
He wished he would have stood up for himself more. He had, as much as he could, but it only seemed to make him get hit harder. He had sort of shrugged it off then, being much more of a kid. But it sort of bothered him now. If he would have known now what he knew then, he would have been on their asses three ways 'till Sunday. So much for bravery.
He passed over a sigh, closing his eyes. He could sleep right there. Right on the floor. As much as he wanted too, however, he decided against it.
It was Mike's place, and he wouldn't mind, but his roommates were another story. They were about the most annoying, bitchy people you could think of. Always thought they were better than everyone else. Mike deserved to live someplace better.
Shortly after he had "quit" school, Mike's family began to disown him. The drugs, the drinking, the scene. It was destroying both of them. Him, and Mike. Billie's parents wanted him to get help. Mike's parents just didn't want him. He felt sorry for the guy, being his best friend. Mike was fucked up. Not that he was any better at that point, so if they were gonna be fucked up, they might as well be fucked up together.
It was fun back then. Parties almost every night, midnight trips to the grocery store where Casey worked to get food because they had the munchies, other pointless shit. But it was still fun. No one could deny that. They spent all their time together. Holidays, weekends, everything except school days. Mike went to school, and he went and hauled himself up in his room until he got home. Then they'd hang out again.
All of a sudden, Mike got serious. He'd done the drugs, done the harm, done the fun. But it was enough for him. Billie had to give him credit. If he hadn't gone through all that shit to stop all that addiction the party life, both of them would probably be dead.
Mike was buckled down now. He had finished high school, and was planning to go to a community college when he got the chance. Although he still dropped acid or some other random drug from time to time, he was pretty much clean. It was like he was going through the "5 step program", but without the five steps.
All that on Mike's part had given himself to have the will to quit smoking. For a little while, at least. He sighed, getting comfortable on his spot on the floor, his back supported by the door frame. It would probably start all over once they went on the tour. Probably.
"Oh well," he thought to himself. If it happened, it happened. They were legal adults now, right? They'd have more control. "I think," he noted to himself, finally drifting back off to sleep.
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