No One Knows (Sequel to 16) (Completed)

Chapter 3: Drive Them Staples Deep

Annabel's POV

It was one of those days. Despite all attempt at optimism I couldn't ignore the unsettling, heavy sludge that had seemed to settle in my gut, my body feeling achingly hollow yet impossibly like lead. I had come home from school and slumped in a chair at the kitchen table for a ridiculous amount of time, too tired to refocus my eyes on anything and too tired to think about something in particular. It was then that a great mound of fur and excitement found itself at my feet, wagging his tail. I sighed out all the bitterness I could and let myself smile as I patted him.

"Come on Private Ale, let's go for a walk."

The day was gloomy and I tried not to think about how it was a clear-cut case of pathetic fallacy as I held Ale's leash in my pocket, taking some amusement in how fascinated he was by shrubs and trash cans and the occasional cat. He had started to fill out more with some food, and he was practically dragging me along; I hadn't realised how strong he really was.

I wasn't really paying attention, probably because I was too caught up in the pettiness of my life when I realised where I was and where my dog had taken me. 

Oh man life's a bitch.

Billie's street.

But I was too over it to have any sense of nervousness about randomly dropping in on him so I meandered up to the door and knocked a few times. It was then that I heard the ruckus coming from inside; a mixture of hollering and guitars. Mike was who I was greeted with, who granted me the usual warm smile and pulled me into a hug.

"Bells! Fuck you're just in time! Hi Private Ale." He gave Ale a scruff before grabbing my hand and pulling me in. I smiled and just let him; I suppose I was used to their crazy antics by now. 

I was met, as we stumbled into Billie's living room, by a pretty reeking odour of booze, weed and that indescribable scent of teenage boy. The usual band set was all there, but Billie was behind the drum kit and Tré was holding Blue, both pissing themselves laughing. 

"Annabel! Oh fuck man you gotta see this!" 

Mike grabbed his bass, grinning with that signature buzzing smile, and they leapt into a song.

"I wanna be your dominated love slave... I wanna be the one that takes the pain. You can spank me when I do not behave, smack me in the forehead with a chain!"

I couldn't help but laugh as Mike and Billie added to Tré atrocious hillbilly accent with various sound effects, astounded that the band that was all deep and angsty one minute could be stupid and downright hilarious the next. As their audience member, I applauded over-enthusiastically, even calling out "Tré Cool have my babies!" just to see that crazy grin on his face. 

"With pleasure!" And he tackled me to the couch as I squealed and laughed harder, Ale barking madly and leaping into the action to protect me, causing him to bound onto my chest. The wind was completely knocked out of me in a big "ooohf". 

"Jesus Tré! Are you okay?" Billie yanked the drummer (/pseudo singer I suppose) off me harshly, sending him a scowl that wasn't lighthearted enough for Tré to make any smug remark to. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just this dirty great dog that's the problem." I giggled, pushing Ale off and sitting up. I saw Billie had a strange expression on his face, a blush starting to illuminate his cheeks and a certain electricity sparking behind his jade eyes. He ran a hand in his hair and glanced away. I realised that with all the tumbling my shirt had become slight askew, coming down to reveal my bra. I pulled it back into place, slightly confused as to why that was such a deal to him; hell, he'd seen me in my bra before.

"Anyways, so are you guys going to the party Saturday? At Chuck's house?" I asked as I got up, still fighting off the reddening in my face. Christ, just because he was all flustered for no reason didn't mean I had to be.

"Yeah! You're going right?" Mike called as I went into the kitchen to grab a soda, slumped in a chair and hammering out a few riffs. 

"Yeah, Jeremy's outta town this weekend thank god."

"New hooker isn't local?" Tré piped in. I smirked.

"Something like that. Do you guys wanna grab burritos first or something?"

"Sounds good. Hey, if the man's out this weekend Billie boy better be carrying some protection next time he's knocking on your window!" Tré chirped, obviously the comment a mixture of him trying to bring Billie down a peg for snarling at him and also just Tré being Tré. I don't know why it got me the way it did. I just remembered Brittany, remembered how it would feel to be used and...

"That will never happen."

I could have played it off as a joke, as just rebuffing a crude remark. But the deadpan way I said it, almost bitter, made that impossible. The boys just looked to Billie. He looked at me. My sentence rung in the air, somehow becoming more and more biting as the seconds passed. 

Something flashed over his face, but it soon was hidden by a cruel smirk, one that I rarely ever saw but scared me when I did. He turned to get Blue.

"Yeah, thank god for that. Besides babe..." he turned to look at me, sharpness in his gaze but that unsettling smile still in place... "stuck up little virgins aren't really my type."

Mike and Tré looked at me. Mike disappeared a moment after, stalking after Billie with his bass as if he was planning to hit him over the head with it. Tré made a move to say something about Billie being an ass and how he was in a mood or something but I simply smiled and said I'd see them Saturday and left on some sort of joke I had managed to pull out of the chaos of my mind.

Private Ale pulled me hard as I walked, but I didn't notice. All I could really feel amongst the anger for letting myself get upset over stupid Billie Joe fucking Armstrong was a pounding in my chest that wasn't entirely pleasant. 

Fuck Billie you asshole, drive those staples deep.

.....

A/N hello hello i am SO SORRY i haven't updated in AGES. honestly i have no excuse. sorry!! thank you for reading! i will be updating more i swear