Only Of You || Trillie

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"So, how old are you?"

Tré had completely drifted away from the conversation. Mike had left to do a day job to make some quick cash and grab some food. Billie and Tré stayed behind and decided to lounge on their shitty old couch because again, it was hot as hell and they didn't have anywhere to go. They'd only known each other for a few days but Tré already had his own mattress and moved his shit in. It'd like they'd been friends for years.

He was repeatedly tapping his foot and leaning forward lost in thought, irritating Billie. "Tré. Hello. I'm here too. Snap out of it," he snapped his fingers and got the drummer's attention.

"I was born in '72, why?"

"Cool. Me and Mike too. So you're our age,"

"Yeah, I don't think I look much older than that."

"I thought you were like, sixteen. But to be fair you sound at most fourteen, so forgive me for assuming. I thought you were just a really talented child."

"Hey, that's not funny. It's obvious I'm not that young. I don't think I'd be out by myself on the streets if I was."

Billie shrugged and laughed, showing off his fucked up teeth once again. Tré liked them for some reason. Not in a weird way, but the way his face looked was different and unique to Billie Joe. In the past, he could remember performing and playing his drums to the crowds. No one ever really stood out, but none of them looked like that. None of them had a funky nose with a piercing on the right side, none of them said 'y'know' a ton to the point where it was slightly irritating, and none of them had a ridiculous untamed mess of hair quite like this moron's. Tré found that interesting, though he wasn't quite sure why.

"I mean you're short enough to where anyone would be confused. How tall are you, Tré?"

He looked down in defeat. He didn't even want to answer. It wasn't fair, though, because Billie really wasn't that much taller than he was. They were still pretty much face level. And he couldn't have looked that much older. Tré wasn't fresh out of high school or anything because they would've graduated the same year. Well, if Tré finished high school..

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No."

The room fell silent except for the tapping of Tré's foot. At first, Tré had enjoyed the presence of this idiot but it wasn't lasting, that's for sure. He was slowly becoming a bit more fed up and they hadn't even been.. friends(?) for a week yet. More like roommates with a dash of uncomfortable gay tension.

"Anyways, Mike. I can tell you want him. It's fucking weird," Tré announced, standing up and sitting down on his mattress since Billie's body heat was not helping him cool down with the hot weather situation. It wasn't any better on the floor but he figured it was worth a shot since the two seemed to be getting on each other's nerves.

"No, and for the record, I have a girlfriend."

"No the fuck you don't," Tré called him out immediately, laughing hysterically. "I can tell by looking at you. I thought you and Mike were gay lovers for fuck's sake."

Billie sighed loudly and stared at the band's new drummer. "Okay, so you called me out on my bullshit. But I've had girlfriends, yeah. I don't like Mike. We've been best friends since we were kids. We just both like music and made a band. You're lucky we let you in it."

"Defensive, much?" Tré smirked, "I won't tell him about your gay love, promise. I don't think he likes you that way, I wouldn't either. If you smell as bad as he says you do normally, I'd say so."