Part 7

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Third Person P.O.V.

      "Can Bill and I go into this store? Please, mom? Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeeeeease?" Tré begged.
      Mrs. Wright sighed. "Whatever. But if Billie tells me ONE bad thing, I'm chopping your face off and hanging it above the fireplace." Her voice softens. "You'll tell me everything, won't you Billie, dear?" She asks with a warm smile.
      Billie nods fervently as he gets dragged into the store by Tré. "Does she always say stuff like that?" Billie asks, somewhat worried that Tré's beautiful face may not be there for long.
      Tré shrugs absentmindedly, focusing more on the shirts in front of him. "Her bark is worse than her bite. But I guess I've never really tested her bite because her bark is scary enough..." He turns towards Billie with a black button up shirt. "Try this on."
      Billie nods and walks away to find a dressing room. He tries on the shirt and is staring at himself in the mirror when the door suddenly swings open. Billie lets out a girly squeal but relaxes when he notices it's just Tré.
      Tré laughs at Billie's shock. He looks at the shirt and motions for Billie to turn around. He smiles at Billie. "It fits. Do you like it?" Billie nods and that makes Tré's smile grow. "Good. Now put these on." Tré hands Billie a pair of red skinny jeans.
      Billie holds up the pants and scowls at them. He raises an eyebrow at Tré. Tré looks offended.
      "They're red."
      "Yeah?! So?!"
      Billie shrugs. "I'm more of a plain denim or black jeans kinda guy."
      "Awh, c'mon Bill! Live a little! I'm sure you'll look hot in them..." Tré smirks.
     Billie turns bright red.
      "Please please pleeeease try them on? For me?" Tré puts on his best puppy dog face.
      Billie rolls his eyes. "No. I refuse to wear red jeans." He states.
      "Ugh. Whatever. Just put them on and see if they're the right size."
      Billie slips on the red pants and looks in the mirror. Ok, so maybe he looked good in them. And really liked them. But he would never wear them. And he would DEFINITELY not tell Tré that. Billie opened the door and Tré smirks.
      "Woah, Beej! You look stunning! Gimme a minute." Tré ran off, leaving Billie to admire his outfit in the mirror. He really did look great. Tré came back and fastens a red tie around Billie's neck. He stepped back and admired his work. "Well, Billie, I must say. You DO look incredible. 180 please." Tré said.
      Billie turned around to face the opposite wall. He heard Tré's footsteps come closer and he began to mess with the waistband of Billie's jeans. Billie starts to blush.
      "Do these feel okay? Because it seems like they fit perfectly."
      Billie nods and turns to face Tré.
      "You like the red, don't you."
      Billie nods. "No."
      Tré puts his arms in the air in triumph. "YEAH! I DID IT! BEST. STYLIST. EVER." He exclaimed.
      Billie scoffed. "Wouldn't go THAT far..."
      Tré grins. "Oh yeah?"
      "Then who is?"
      Tré chuckles.
      "What?!" Billie puts his hands on his hips. "Don't believe me?"
      Tré shakes his head.
      Billie scoffs. "Okay. Fine. Lemme change and then I'm getting you the BEST OUTFIT EVER." He locks the door in Tré's face and changes his clothes. He strides past a grinning Tré and starts to pick out clothes for him. He settles on khaki shorts and a black and green shirt. He hands it to Tré. "Try it on"
      Billie raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
      Tré smiles. "I have this shirt already."
      Billie takes the clothes back. "Just shows how amazing I am. I know your fashion SO WELL, I picked something you already loved."  Billie winks.
      After they got Billie 17 shirts, 4 pairs of jeans, and 3 button ups, they went to get Tré's mom. She smiled when she saw the full bags Billie was carrying. On the way back, Tré told his mom about what a great fashion sense he had and she just rolled her eyes.
      She looked at Tré's green hair, khaki shorts, The Who shirt, tall socks, and sandals. "Yeah Frank. Best fashion sense ever." She winked at Billie, causing him to giggle.
      Tré pouted the remaining 10 minutes it took to get home.
A/N- Worst. Ending. Ever. I'm so sorry I'm so bad at writing... BUT! I HAVE TWO QUESTIONS! 1- Do I update too much? Kinda feel like I do... ALSO, I have a friend *shock horror* and we're writing a story. It's not Green Day or even fanfic at all but I kinda wanna upload it just to see what people think... yes? No?


I won't keep you here any longer.


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