Slip of a Boy

Title: Slip of a Boy.
Author: Sarah Elizabeth (Karma Killer)
Summary: Set up in chapters, but basically a series of vignettes chronicling the downfall of Billie Joe's marriage and the growth of his relationship with Mike.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Billie Joe/Mike Dirnt
Feedback: desired.
Author’s notes: This is the prologue to the story, which will probably never exceed more than 5 parts.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the arrangement of words. Completely non-profit and completely hormonal.

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Medication (Prologue)

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"Where do you think she is right now?" His words were slurred, adding to his already prominent tendency to lisp. Mike had always found this attribute endearing, although he would never tell his bandmate that.

"Doesn't she always go to her mother's when you guys have a tiff?" Mike asked.

Billie Joe answered in silence, swinging his half empty beer bottle against the side of the couch. He was hunched up against one of the armrests, his left hand dangling off the cushion. The bottle made a repetitive thud against the material, filling the otherwise silent room.

Lights from the giant television in the corner were flashing iridescently across the walls, lighting the area sporadically with green, red, and blue tones and then plunging it into darkness once more. Billie had muted the set a long time ago but still remained huddled on the couch, knees pulled up beneath him, watching the program with the coherence of a zombie.

Mike watched him dejectedly, trying to decide what to do. He shifted uncomfortably, his foot colliding with a number of empty bottles on the floor. Billie didn't so much as flinch at the sudden jarring noise. The slender guitarist had been going at it for hours now, alone in the room and barely qualifying for existance before Mike had found him. Minutes had passed by now, and the bassist was still unable to lull Billie out of his self-medicating cocoon.

"You have to stop doing this." Mike was surprised at the stern sound of his own voice.

He saw Billie take in a quick breath, and it was enough. He'd hit something. "Doing what?" the smaller man asked, still staring lifelessly at the television but ceasing the movements of the bottle in his hand.

"Don't bullshit me. You know exactly what this is. Everytime she kicks you down like a dog you just give up and let it eat away at you." Mike hadn't meant to be so harsh. He immediately regretted the sharp edge of his words.

Billie didn't respond, but he could hear the tapping of the bottle against the sofa resume. Mike knew the denial game well. The bassist sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning to face his bandmate. "It's not your fault, you know," Mike said gently, waiting for a reaction, an aknowledement...anything. When he didn't get one, he prepared himself for more drastic measures and began raising a hand to Billie's shoulder.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

Billie Joe's unexpected words stopped Mike's hand in its tracks. The man who was usually so confident, so obnoxious and cocky...was falling apart at the seams. The sound of such an outspoken voice cracking under the threat of tears was almost more than Mike could handle. He was at a loss for words.

"I don't know what to tell you."

Billie joe finally looked at Mike, his hazel eyes, dazed from alcohol, shifting before resting with Mike's steely blues. "You don't have to tell me anything."

With that, Billie Joe hoisted himself from the couch, swaying slightly before finding his footing amidst the sea of empty beer bottles. Unsteadily, he made his way to the studio door.

"Where are you going?" Mike asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Home," Billie mumbled, his voice sounding eerily distant from half way across the darkened room.

Mike leaned forward from his position on the couch, clasping his hands together in frustration. "You sure you don't want a ride?"

Billie had paused at the door, his fingers still wrapped around the handle and his shoulder resting against the door jam at an awkward angle. A few moments passed where Mike assumed Billie Joe would just leave without another word.

"She took my boys," Billie said, his voice nearly a whisper. He still had his back to Mike, his head lowered and contemplating his scruffy black converse.

"I know Billie."

"She took my boys and I don't know where she is...and she wants it that way."

Mike could see Billie's nimble fingers flexing and unflexing around the door handle. They were beginning to whiten from the force he was applying. And then he let go; just like that. Mike watched as Billie walked out of the studio without any further confession. The bassist reclined back in the couch numbly and kicked a few bottles with his feet, watching them circle lazily into the center of the room.

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Thanks for reading. An actual chapter soon. :D

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