Champion

Chapter 3

When Tré next opened his eyes, a clanging sound could be heard. Tré did not have to take more than one guess to know it was Billie.

He rubbed at his eyes, his head pounding too on top of everything. His fingers twitched as he woke up slowly, the faint sound of Billie humming and the smell of something could be detected.

Tré definitely was not hungry, and he could tell his patience level today would be borderline ...nothing.

On cue, Billie backed into the room, balancing a breakfast tray in his arms expertly. He proudly set it down, a smug expression.

"Didn't even burn it." He announced, folding his arms. He frowned at Tré's grimace. "What's up?" He asked, perching on the bed.

Tré sucked in a breath. "I'm not hungry."

Billie's bottom lip jutted out, and he protested. "But Tré, I-"

"Not hungry." Tré interrupted, and Billie went quiet.

It appeared Tré wasn't hungry.

"I made you some orange juice." Billie spoke softly, but Tré simply glanced at it. Billie played with his fingers. "I figured you could use it to take your pills."

Tré groaned inwardly when he was reminded of his frequent medication. He half expected to rattle like a piggy bank if he took any more pills. Although this did explain why he was in so much pain, having being without them.

Billie ran his fingernail along the pattern of the blanket, trying to find words. He eventually did. "Are you.. Going to take them then?"

Tré shot him a look and Billie almost flinched as Tré snatched the glass of carefully prepared juice up and took the pills, leaving the rest untouched and pushing the tray away.

Billie looked at the food, the thought of all the hard work it took to prepare crossing his mind. But he wouldn't bring this up, as Tré was already mad at him, it seemed.

Maybe a different approach was needed. "You can't just sit there all day. Let's do something!" Billie suggested, exaggerating his excitement. He figured they could at least watch a movie, or play some kind of board game.

Tré gave him a dirty look, the kind he gave when his drumsticks mysteriously disappeared or when he was told to stop being so loud.

"I can't do anything but sit around, you fucking idiot." Tré snapped, and this time Billie did flinch at the harsh words.

Tears prickled at the back of his eyes and he picked the tray up quickly. He got to his feet clumsily, his voice cracked and almost a whisper. "O-okay.. I'm s-sorry for bothering you," He stammered, exiting the room quickly.

Almost immediately, the unsettling feeling of guilt wormed it's way into Tré's stomach. He hadn't meant to snap at the guy, he was just frustrated and in pain. He palmed his forehead, trying to at least get some more sleep.

Billie took the tray to the kitchen and set it down, wiping away the tears that had fallen as he walked.

He figured Tré would be pissed that he wasn't allowed to move around for a while, but he didn't think Tré would blame him completely.

He slid down the counter and hugged his knees, sobbing into his arms. He was an awful, awful friend. No wonder Tré hated him.

And as he sat alone in the kitchen, the thought which was quietly buzzing in the back of his head previously was now protruding violently.

'This is all your fault.'