Razors. (Currently re-writing)

Chapter Two

"I still can't believe you sucker punched Nash in the nose! I mean there was blood EVERYWHERE!!" Billie whisper shouted and smiled widely.

(A/N okay so $ means a character is thinking and a dollar sign will also be at the end of the thought too. Sorry for interrupting.)

$ He's so cute. Wait, what? Billie, cute?!? I'm straight. Yeah. Very manly and straight. Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs... Billie. Damn it! $

"You okay, Tré? You kinda zoned out there." Billie asked.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine. Totally fine." Tré stuttered.

$ He's gorgeous. Totally flawless Okay, I'm not gay. I'm just Billie-sexual. I'm just attracted to one male. Just Billie. Hmmmm... Tré Cool- Armstrong. I like that. $

"Okay, if you're sure you're fine." Billie smiled his lopsided smile and tilted his head to the side.

"What class do you have now?" Tré asked him.

"Home- Ec."

He snorted and tried to cover up his laughter, but failed epically.

"Shut up, it's fucking punk." Billie laughed along.

"Okay. 'Punk'. Sure." Tré put air quotes around the word punk and chortled again.

The taller boy rolled his eyes and he giggled. "It's super punk. The teacher is cute too."

"Mr.Stevens?" Tré asked.

"Shit! You didn't hear that. I take it back. Listen, I gotta go. I'll meet you outside after school." Billie covered his mouth and took off down the hall and skidded around a corner and into a janitors closet. He checked his phone.

$ Okay, fifteen minutes until class starts. I have time. $

Billie dug around in his book bag for his phone and he pulled it out of the bag. The case was soon wrenched off and a new blade from a pencil sharpener was pulled out. Billie held it to his arm and made ten new cuts on each wrist. He watched them bleed for a bit before he cleaned them up with some tissues he found in his bag. With that out of the way and some of his stress gone, he got up and made his way to his first period class.

"Hey, Mark." Billie sighed and sat down next to the only other boy in this class.

"Hey Billie. You okay?" He asked.

Billie shook his head side to side and placed his head in his hands. "I made a terrible mistake. I'm gonna lose my only friend."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"How very 'stereotypical therapist' of you. And no. I don't wanna talk about it. Thanks though."

Mark shrugged. "Okay. Well, come talk to me if you want. I got your back, dude."

Billie nodded and turned to the front of the room where the teacher was lecturing about how to make buttercream frosting. Before he knew it, class was over and he made his way out into the halls.

"BILLIE!"

$ Oh shit. $

Tré cool, aka literal punk leprechaun of fury, came storming down the hall towards him.

Billie made a move to walk away, but a small hand clamped over his wrist.

"Ow! Tré!" Billie hissed.

"Sorry, man. Listen we need to talk. Meet me behind the music hall at lunch." Tré loosened his grip on Billie's wrist and took a small step back.

Billie nodded and shuffled sullenly to his next class.

Lunch came way too soon for Billie's liking, but he made his way to the back of the music hall to meet with Tré.

"Oh good, you're here. I thought you wouldn't show up." Tré hustled himself up to Billie and hugged him tight.

"Uh, Tré? You okay there, buddy?"

The shorter boy nodded, but took a step back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What? That I'm a suicidal fag?" Billie mumbled.

"Billie Joe Armstrong! Don't you dare say that! You're my best friend and I couldn't give two shits if you were gay, or straight, or bi, or if you wanted to be a girl. You're my best friend and I love you no matter what. You're smart and funny, and gorgeous, and a hell of a good musician, you have good music taste, a good taste in best friends.." Tré counted off reasons on his finger, but trailed off.

Billie smirked and pulled Tré into a hug. "Thanks Tré."

"Anytime, Billie."

No sooner than the hug had started it ended.

"I, uh have to get going to class." Billie mumbled.

"Okay. See us on the bus?" Tré asked hopefully.

Billie nodded and leaned down to peck Tré on the cheek.

He pulled away and sprinted away across the lawn. Away from the sandy haired drummer, hoping that Tré didn't hate him for kissing his cheek.

$ He's just too irresistible. $ Billie thought and smiled as he plopped down in his seat.