Another kind of Idiot. (Sequel to Loser. Weirdo. Faggot.), chapter 8
Billie brought his head up and looked around, tears dangerously close to coming out of his eyes. How could he have hated John? He had given him nothing but shit for the past few weeks. And now he was gone. Billie rubbed his eyes with his hands, making them sting.
It was all like a dream. When John was there, everything had been fine. Details were there; what he said, when he said it. But as soon as he walked out of the door, out of his life, it all seemed to just smear all together. Now he had woken up from the fact that John wasn't always going to be there. And he didn't like it at all.
Casey muttered something, almost whispering. Her head was buried into Mike's chest, probably crying. Tre, who was sitting in the corner, perked up. His hair was drooping down from his head. It was almost like an antenna for his emotions.
"What's in the envelope, Bill?" he asked, crawling over onto the couch to sit by him.
His head shook a little, weakly handing the envelope over. But Tre didn't take it. "No." He brought Billie's head up to look at him. "You should open it."
His fingers were shaking as he tore into the paper. Tears began rolling down his face, a mix from the pain of the tattoo and John's departure. He didn't want to open it. Any amount of money in that envelope was wrong. He was a horrible friend. He didn't deserve it.
The envelope was ripped through. But he couldn't look inside of it. He sighed troubled, and a little pained.
"I-I can't do it." He threw it onto the table, listening to the soft flop in made.
Mike's eyes looked up at him, glazing over with tears. He reached over to get the envelope, stretching, and handed it back onto Billie.
"Do it for John. Do you really think he would have ever passed up any money?"
A small little hiccup came from Billie's lips, in place of a laugh. John was the cheapest bastard he knew.
"Alright, then." He picked the envelope back up, and ripped open the remaining cover. He spilled its contents on the table. Almost immediately, four sets of eyes began to stare. Billie rubbed his hands over his face. Was this what it was? It was unbelievable. None of them knew a kid like his could even afford to LOOK at that much money, let alone own it and give it away to someone, willingly.
"Fuck..." he whispered, picking up one of the bills. "Did any of you-?" He stopped in mid-sentence, and looked around the room, everyone else's head shaking. He had told no one. How would he have enough money for college now?
Billie squeezed his eyes together, letting the last few tears drip out. "John wouldn't have wanted us to worry," he thought, shock still wearing on him. "He'll always be a part of our band."
He turned his head, realizing a small, devious smile was curling up on both Mike and Tre's lips. What was up with them? Billie's eyes narrowed slightly, more out of confusion than annoyance. What were they planning to do?
"Bill, how would you like to go for a trip?"
It was all like a dream. When John was there, everything had been fine. Details were there; what he said, when he said it. But as soon as he walked out of the door, out of his life, it all seemed to just smear all together. Now he had woken up from the fact that John wasn't always going to be there. And he didn't like it at all.
Casey muttered something, almost whispering. Her head was buried into Mike's chest, probably crying. Tre, who was sitting in the corner, perked up. His hair was drooping down from his head. It was almost like an antenna for his emotions.
"What's in the envelope, Bill?" he asked, crawling over onto the couch to sit by him.
His head shook a little, weakly handing the envelope over. But Tre didn't take it. "No." He brought Billie's head up to look at him. "You should open it."
His fingers were shaking as he tore into the paper. Tears began rolling down his face, a mix from the pain of the tattoo and John's departure. He didn't want to open it. Any amount of money in that envelope was wrong. He was a horrible friend. He didn't deserve it.
The envelope was ripped through. But he couldn't look inside of it. He sighed troubled, and a little pained.
"I-I can't do it." He threw it onto the table, listening to the soft flop in made.
Mike's eyes looked up at him, glazing over with tears. He reached over to get the envelope, stretching, and handed it back onto Billie.
"Do it for John. Do you really think he would have ever passed up any money?"
A small little hiccup came from Billie's lips, in place of a laugh. John was the cheapest bastard he knew.
"Alright, then." He picked the envelope back up, and ripped open the remaining cover. He spilled its contents on the table. Almost immediately, four sets of eyes began to stare. Billie rubbed his hands over his face. Was this what it was? It was unbelievable. None of them knew a kid like his could even afford to LOOK at that much money, let alone own it and give it away to someone, willingly.
"Fuck..." he whispered, picking up one of the bills. "Did any of you-?" He stopped in mid-sentence, and looked around the room, everyone else's head shaking. He had told no one. How would he have enough money for college now?
Billie squeezed his eyes together, letting the last few tears drip out. "John wouldn't have wanted us to worry," he thought, shock still wearing on him. "He'll always be a part of our band."
He turned his head, realizing a small, devious smile was curling up on both Mike and Tre's lips. What was up with them? Billie's eyes narrowed slightly, more out of confusion than annoyance. What were they planning to do?
"Bill, how would you like to go for a trip?"
