Murder City

Chapter Three

3 | Aurora Bennett

sorry for reuploading chapter 2, there were some issues with it.

"You must always choose whats right for you, Ari." Dad leaned closer, the grip on my arm tightening. I didn't mind, I felt comforted by his touch. "Nobody gets in the way of your happiness."

Its not that easy, Dad. Its never that easy.

"Fletcher." I grab his wrist, quickly being shaken away in a fit of rage. "When I find that bastard I'm gonna-" I grab his arms, cutting him off and attempting to calm him with meaningless whispers.

I brought this on myself.

I try to stay out of drama, or anything that pisses Fletcher off, believe it or not. But, something came over me tonight. A whisper in my ear, telling me to choose happiness over Fletcher. That's not right, thats never right. Dad wouldn't want me to turn out like that. Never in a million years. I wonder why Fletchers so mad, then it hits me. I'm his girlfriend, his love. Not Billie's.

Never Billie's.

"Off!" Fletcher pushes me back, and I stumble, quickly steadying myself against a table before losing sight of him as I look up again. "Fletcher?" I call out. No response. Groaning, I push the yellow door open, stepping out into the now darkening outside world. 

Under my feet is a wooden porch, with a bench pushed up against the wall and a few steps leading to a tiny gap between them and the chain link fence surrounding the building. The wooden steps have been demolished from god-knows how long this place has been standing, possibly worsened by the crowds of tonight.

The air rushes down my back, the goosebumps caused by Fletcher previously spiking once more. I suck in the air, feeling it shoot to my lungs. "Fucking Fletcher." I mutter, kicking a wooden post leaned against the graffitied walls. I kick again, and again, and again, until eventually it slips and hits the concreate floor with a loud thud.

"I know."

I look up, and leaned against the chain-link fence surrounding the building is Billie Joe himself, the man who can fix my problems, yet somehow make them worse. "Fucking Fletcher." He presses a cigarette to his lips, inhaling it before blowing out a cloud of smoke and offering it to me.  I shake my head, and he slides the shortening stick back into his mouth, the end curling before turning into ash.

"You okay?" He asks, and I resist the urge to tell him everything, even though nothing has really happened. The worst outcome of tonight is Billie and Fletcher fighting, but I bet on the odds that won't happen.

"Yeah." I sigh, pressing my back against the hard wall across from Billie. "Everything is fine."

We stand in silence for a few moments, the only sound around us being the cooling wind, maybe an exhale of smoke from Billie every so often. Before the temporary calm is broken with Billie's soft, hushed voice. "What does it say on your bracelet?" He points to the silver gleam coming from my wrist, where I've been mindlessly tracing the engravings for the past few minutes.

"Ari." I reply, the stone grey lettering stuck in my mind. "Its the nickname my dad gave me...he made this bracelet for me..." I gulp "before he died." I finish.

"Keep this." Dad told me, tightening the metal ring around my wrist. "Wear it with pride, Aurora." He coughed, holding his wrist to his mouth, catching the blood. I wanted to ask him if it had gotten worse, but that was silly. We both knew it had, and now, there was nothing we could do to stop it. 

Billie's eyebrows raise, and he takes a few steps forward before reaching out to touch my arm, rubbing it as gently as he held me in the nightclub moments before. "Ari..." He repeats, testing the word, "Thats beautiful." His fingers danced across the engravings, tracing the tiny letters with his soft touch. 

I hate when people call me Ari, because they aren't my father. But, when the word releases itself from Billie's parted lips, I feel whole again. As if my dad's here with me. I trace the engraving of the bracelet once more. "Ari." Billie repeats under his breath, nodding his head.

I nod, letting my finger dance over the engraving once more before pulling away.

Billie pulls his hand away from my shoulder, and its only now that I'm realizing how much I need his touch. "Um..." He coughs, stepping away slightly before scratching his nose awkwardly "Have you spoken to Flet-"

"Don't." I interrupt, not wanting the thought of him plaguing the only moment of peace I've had in a while. I know as soon as I meet with Fletcher, I'll be sucked into the unknown. Its scary, constantly being pushed and not knowing if you'll stand again.  "Sorry." He mumbles, shifting his weight to the other foot. The cold air gently blows a strand of hair in my face, Billie reaches out and tucks it behind my ear, his hand staying firmly placed there for an uncomfortably long time. 

Seconds pass. 

A minute passes. 

The world stops, my full attention, mind and body placed on Billie, swimming in the emerald green lake of his eyes, wanting to drown in them, to lose myself in the vast waves. "Sorry." He repeats himself, still not pulling away. As the seconds pass, I find myself wanting to stay like this, forever, in the grips of tension only found in movies, where the characters slowly figure out everything about one-another, with their lips tightly sealed. Billie's lips part, cold air blowing through them. He leans closer, then closer, the cracks on his lips becoming more clearer and clearer. 

"Leave him." He whispers, as if people are listening. "What?" I ask, my mind fogging as his fingers interlock with mine, his thumb tracing those damn circles against mine. "Leave Fletcher." His voice is more commanding, and slightly frightening. My jaw drops, and I attempt to form words, but all that comes out is awkward, messy stuttering. "I...I...Um...Oh." I cant. I think. 

I can't. 

My mind repeats it, but my mouth moves on its own, spluttering out any noise in an attempt of communication. 

Billie's free hand reaches out to my face, gently stroking my cheek, the coldness flowing out of it as his warm fingers stroke my fair skin. "Leave him." He repeats. 

My mouth closes, my thoughts silenced.

The entrance of the club opens with an earth-shattering creak, scaring away the birds on the nearby trees. Before I know it, Billie's arms are around me, pushing me into the alley between the bar and the building next to it. My back scratches against the hard brick, sharp pain increasing down my spine. 

"Aurora?" I hear Fletcher, walking up and down the wooden deck, searching the street for me, calling my name. I close my eyes, even though I cannot see him anyways. I squeeze tighter, hoping he wont walk closer, turn and see his half-brother, the one who takes all the limelight, wrapped around his girlfriend. Shit. I think, I'm his girlfriend. 

I suck the regret into my heart, my head pounds. Is this cheating?  the question that's been on my mind since Billie's arm wrapped around my waist. I wonder if cheating is the right thing to do in my situation, because, its not right, its heartbreaking, and can change anyone's perspective on love. But, is their any love between me and Fletcher? I don't remember the last time he held my hand. I don't remember the last time he danced with me. I don't even remember the last time he made eye-contact with me that wasn't just a few seconds. Billie did all of that. In one night, without even knowing me. I felt loved for the first time in forever. Do I deserve that?

 Soft, plump lips press against mine, the thoughts disappearing. The world around me coming to life, the birds chirping and the feeling of old brick against my back. My heart beats, faster and faster. My arms are pinned to my sides by strong, loving hands, but if they weren't I'd hold my chest, preventing my beating heart from beating out of my chest. Billie's body is against mine, pushing me further and further into the wall, suddenly I don't mind the brick scraping against me. 

Hands are in my hair,  my wrists released and tangled in his. I wrap my fingers around his curly locks, the sweat mixing into my hand. I moan, desperate to taste more of him. Pushing him closer, my tongue slips into his throat, attacking his for dominance and losing almost instantly.

"Fuck." he moans, breathlessly, leaning in to swallow me once more. His hand grips onto my waist, holding me as if he's waited for this, as if he's been starved of the attention he deserves.

The attention I can give him.