Murder City

Chapter Eleven

11 | Billie Joe Armstrong

"Hold still." she whispers, her fingers wrapping around loose strands of my hair, tugging on them gently before they bounce back onto my head. She grabs two thin strands of my hair, braiding them quickly with skillful fingers, reaching over to the coffee table to pick a colorful elastic band from a little tub, before tying the braid together. She smiles satisfactorily, I hear her hum in delight. "There." 

I sit up, grabbing the pink handheld mirror she hands to me. "Cute." I say uncertainly, looking at my messy hair, now covered in mini fishtail like braids, the ends tied together with colorful elastics. Half of my hair is normal, the black clumps poking out between the braids. "Sorry, I ran out of elastics." She looks sympathetic, but I can see the cheeky smile she tries to hide. I look over to the tub of elastics, it's still half full, the colorful rings poking out from a clear tub. No suprise there. 

"Sorry, I just..." She shrugs "Couldn't be bothered." I sigh, knowing tommorow half of my hair will be wavy with little clumps of curls. I'd take them out now to prevent that problem, but I know for a fact she wont let me. 

Its been three weeks of her living here. Which means three weeks of us talking, mostly about feelings, or how we want to continue with whatever relationship we had previously. We're still at square one-not sure how we're going to get out of this rut-but right now I think we're slowly falling back into place.

I rest my head back on her chest, her hand naturally finding its way to my hair, gently stroking on it. Over the past three weeks, I've seen her laugh more, I've seen her be more comfortable. I've seen her be, well...her. She's not mine, she's not Fletcher's, she's Aurora Bennett's. 

I stretch out, my arms over my head. "I wanted to ask you something." I mutter. She hums, mindlessly watching the TV. "I.." I feel too shy to ask. So far, we haven't really gotten anywhere with our relationship, as she's been focusing on herself. Don't get me wrong-I think thats great. But I want to atleast show her I care. I want to show her that when she's figured out who she is, I'll be there for her. 

"Do you..." I pause again, sitting up and shaking my head. Come on, Billie I think Pull yourself together! I sigh, knowing if I don't ask now, I never will. "Do you wanna go out...with me?" I feel like a child, asking a girl to be my valentine. She smirks, tugging gently on her earring. She does that a lot recently, I guess if she focuses on pain more than her own thoughts, so she can stop overthinking. "Yeah." She tugs again "But you know I'm not ready-" 

"For a relationship, yeah I know." I grab her hand, squeezing it, letting her know my attention is on her and her only. "But I want you to know I'm here." We talked about being honest with eachother, instead of hiding important stuff. She told me many times she couldn't leave Fletcher, but she never told me why. That's why everything was made so much harder for us. I'm not blaming her, she's explained why she didn't tell me so many times. She was afraid, and I'm not surprised. But the lack of communication between us almost ended our relationship.

I'm not glad what happened with her and Fletcher happened, but if that never happened, we wouldn't have ever, ever gotten this close with one another. I knew what was going on in their 'relationship', but I didn't know how bad it really was until she told me, she told me every little fucking detail of how that bastard has hurt her over the years. I knew after that she was never going to see him again, and I'd make sure of it.

"Okay." She smiles, squeezing my hand. "Yeah. I-I'll go out with you." I see something in her eyes, a twinge of love, excitement, and fear. I smile, letting her know it's all going to be okay.

I know I look ridiculous, I look like a doll, covered in out of shape curls whilst wearing a shirt too big for me, and I know it isn't the outfit you ask a girl out in. But If she doesn't want me at my stupid, she doesn't deserve me at my smart.

I'll make sure, for as long as she's in my life, that she'll never get in harms way.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Nope." Valentine flicks through another page of her book, rolling her eyes at my outfit. I turn around sharply, my eyebrows furrowed, "Whats wrong with it?" I ask, my lips pouting. She snickers, "Are you going to a funeral?" She scowls at my suit, the black blazer and pants prove her point. "Anyways." Her eyes flick back to her book, skimming the lines before flipping the page once more, "You said you wanted something casual."

"I do." I mutter, turning back to the mirror to fix my collar, "But I also wanna impress her." I hear Valentine laugh from behind me. "God, she was with Fletcher for what...almost 5 years? You just showing up would impress her." I have made a series of very bad decisions in my life, but asking Valentine to help me dress for my upcoming date was probably the worst one.

"Question." She yawns, "Where are you going again?" 

"Some family-run restaurant. She told me it was her dads favorite, and she's always wanted to go back." I shrug, unbuttoning the blazer to try on my fourth outfit, which I'm sure Valentine will find a problem with. "Aww, look at you, Mr. Romantic." She laughs, throwing me the shirt to complete my next outfit. I laugh along, tugging the shirt over my torso. 

I've lost a little weight since my 40th birthday party. For one, I cut down my alcohol intake. I figured that Aurora gave me enough adrenaline, and anymore would probably kill me. Plus, I wanted to be at my healthiest to live a full life with her.  She's way younger than me, 25 to be exact. A 15 year age gap isn't something most people expect, and when we're seen together most people think I'm her father. Which is her fault, because she looks way younger than 25. Plus, she's somehow tinier than me, but only by a little. 

I straighten the shirt, tugging the pants up a little more. The man in the mirror stood before me...is me. I feel more like myself now than ever. Its not just the casual clothes I usually slump around the house in. Its me. I feel like myself, In mind and body. I know this isn't the best version of myself, but I'm getting there.

Valentine moves from her bed, walking over to me to pull my shirt down more. Its a little long, so it bunched around my waist. "Perfect." She smiles proudly, kissing my cheek and admiring me in the mirror as if I'm her creation. Which, I suppose I am right now. I'm her Barbie, something she can change and make pretty. But I'm okay with that. 

"She's gonna love it." She smiles, patting me on the back before walking back over to her bed.

"Yeah." I pick at my nails. "I hope it does."