Another kind of Idiot. (Sequel to Loser. Weirdo. Faggot.), chapter 4
Billie was walking into his house when he heard it. Someone was playing the drums from downstairs, but it sounded different from all the other people. Whoever it was, they had talent. Billie quickly rushed downstairs, Casey trailing behind, to see who it was.
Staring directly at him, still keeping the beat on the drums was none other than Tre. Billie's heart suddenly jumped into his throat.
"T-Tre..." He managed to stutter out, eyes wide. "What in the hell?" Tre set his sticks down, backing away from the set. Billie noticed Mike in the corner, grinning smugly. Tre looked the same as he was when he was sixteen. A little taller, but not much else. Same voice, same sense of humor, and that same crooked smile Billie couldn't figure out.
He got up from his chair, making a small little bow, smug look still on his face. "Hey Basil Boy, you like my performance?" He snickered. Billie felt his eyes narrow. Why was Tre here? To rub it in their faces that he was the perfect drummer? The perfect drummer that just so happened to not want to be in the band?
"Nice you decided to help out with auditions, but Jesus Christ, Tre. You're making us feel worse." He rubbed the back of his neck. Tre was a great guy, but he could be a real asshole sometimes.
Tre's face twisted with confusion. "I'm not helping. I wanna be your drummer." He grinned. "If that's alright with you, Mr. 'Front man.' " Billie's eyes got even bigger, if that was possible. Years later, he would look back, and he still never understood how Mike got Tre to join the band. It must have been out of sheer luck. And that Tre felt extra compassionate that day.
Billie felt the sudden urge to hug Tre. "You're serious about this?" He asked, flinging his arms around Tre. "You're really fucking serious?" He was in a state of disbelief and shock. Words couldn't express how much Billie relied on his band. It was his crutch.
Tre backed out away from the hug. "Yeah. I wanna be your drummer. Why not?" His lips were in a smile ear to ear, eyes shining. Tre seemed just as happy about it as Billie did. "You just were too damn desperate, Bill." Billie and Tre still were interlocking arms.
Mike let out a small laugh, glad to see Billie so happy. He had been moping around again, something that was never good for a person with drug problems. Billie had lately given up smoking pot, or so he said. Once when he had walked in on Billie smoking up more than usual, Mike told him to quit. Surprisingly Billie obeyed. He had hardly touched the stuff since.
The glitter in Tre's eyes seemed to fizzle out for a moment. He needed a little reassurance. "You think I can fill John's shoes?"
"Tre, I think your gonna need a bigger size."
Staring directly at him, still keeping the beat on the drums was none other than Tre. Billie's heart suddenly jumped into his throat.
"T-Tre..." He managed to stutter out, eyes wide. "What in the hell?" Tre set his sticks down, backing away from the set. Billie noticed Mike in the corner, grinning smugly. Tre looked the same as he was when he was sixteen. A little taller, but not much else. Same voice, same sense of humor, and that same crooked smile Billie couldn't figure out.
He got up from his chair, making a small little bow, smug look still on his face. "Hey Basil Boy, you like my performance?" He snickered. Billie felt his eyes narrow. Why was Tre here? To rub it in their faces that he was the perfect drummer? The perfect drummer that just so happened to not want to be in the band?
"Nice you decided to help out with auditions, but Jesus Christ, Tre. You're making us feel worse." He rubbed the back of his neck. Tre was a great guy, but he could be a real asshole sometimes.
Tre's face twisted with confusion. "I'm not helping. I wanna be your drummer." He grinned. "If that's alright with you, Mr. 'Front man.' " Billie's eyes got even bigger, if that was possible. Years later, he would look back, and he still never understood how Mike got Tre to join the band. It must have been out of sheer luck. And that Tre felt extra compassionate that day.
Billie felt the sudden urge to hug Tre. "You're serious about this?" He asked, flinging his arms around Tre. "You're really fucking serious?" He was in a state of disbelief and shock. Words couldn't express how much Billie relied on his band. It was his crutch.
Tre backed out away from the hug. "Yeah. I wanna be your drummer. Why not?" His lips were in a smile ear to ear, eyes shining. Tre seemed just as happy about it as Billie did. "You just were too damn desperate, Bill." Billie and Tre still were interlocking arms.
Mike let out a small laugh, glad to see Billie so happy. He had been moping around again, something that was never good for a person with drug problems. Billie had lately given up smoking pot, or so he said. Once when he had walked in on Billie smoking up more than usual, Mike told him to quit. Surprisingly Billie obeyed. He had hardly touched the stuff since.
The glitter in Tre's eyes seemed to fizzle out for a moment. He needed a little reassurance. "You think I can fill John's shoes?"
"Tre, I think your gonna need a bigger size."
