Murder City

Chapter One

1 || Aurora Bennett

I never fell for Fletcher, he fucking tripped me.

Fletchers constant thudding as he paces across our black and white kitchen floor pulls my eyes from my phone, of which I'm mindlessly scrolling through old texts.

"Fletch." I command, which surprisingly doesn't stop his movements. I call out again, "Fletch!". This time, he does.

Fletcher's always towered over me in size. In fact, he towers over most people. His blonde hair swoops slightly, with strands firmly tucked behind his ears. Like most 37 year old's, his face is covered in faded wrinkles. His cheekbones stand tall, making him look slightly younger than his real age.

That seems to be the only thing him and his half-brother share.

"Mm?" His body faces me, yet his eyes do not. He seems to be too busy picking at his fingernails. "Stop stomping. Your annoying me." I shuffle in my seat, the padding of the dining room chair supporting me. I'm thankful that its here, as if it wasn't, I'd be unable to feel my ass from the amount of time I've been here, just waiting for our ride to Fletchers Half-brothers 40th birthday party.

I wouldn't say I adore Billie Joe, but I dont resent him in anyway. I haven't ever spoken to the man without Fletcher leading the conversation, which I never want. 

I met Billie three years ago, when Fletcher introduced me to his family. He never told me he had a half-brother, and when I asked him about Billie later in private he told me that people often befriend him to get to his celebrity half-brother, even if they have no care for his music, so its best to just keep him out of the picture until its absolutely necessary. And by that he apparently meant hiding a big figure in his life from the girl he'd been dating for almost a year.

His brother, Billie Joe Armstrong, the name which comes up every time Fletcher wants to complain to me as If I'm his therapist, is the frontman of a punk band named Green Day, which I only know because every time a song of theirs comes on the radio, Fletcher rants about the band for hours, calling them "Posers" and saying they "Ruin the punk community".

I was so madly in love at that time I didn't even realize how strange that was. Until now, I never thought of their relationship, but It can't be all that great if he'd rather not mention his "celebrity half-brother" at all, rather than mentioning him and cutting out his name or the celebrity detail.

Now, the wool has been pulled from my eyes. Fletcher doesn't seem to realize that if you stab too many holes in the blindfold of love, I can see right through it.

But that doesn't mean I can rip the chains from around my legs and run free.

"I'm just worried.." Fletcher looks up at the clock for the one-hundredth time this last hour. "What if he doesn't arrive in time?" Fletchers head cranes to the side. Last week, our car broke down - Actually, my car. But since I moved in with him, all my possessions become his too - and has been in the shop ever since. Billie offered to repair it, but Fletcher stated he'd rather die than take 'that assholes' help.

As you can tell, Fletcher hasn't exactly controlled his jealousy towards his half-brother, even after all of these years.

Now, we're forced to carpool with Billie's best friend, Mike, and his wife, Rose. They're nice people, but anyone who decides to associate themselves with Billie are devils in Fletchers eyes, and I wonder sometimes...who isn't?

"Fletch. Calm down, hun." I stand and go to wrap my arms around him, but he steps back and gives me a look, the kind of look that shows I've wasted too long on this man. 

And with that, a knock echo's through the house.

"Finally" I sigh, walking through our kitchen to the front door, where through the frosted windows I admire a tall, dark figure. I crack open the door. I'm met with the almost overbearingly kind smile of Mike, which isn't a bad thing. I quite enjoy positivity, especially since my daily life remains drained of it.