The Innocent Can Never Last

Could We Begin Again?

Emma's POV

I must have stared at him for at least thirty seconds. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Was this really the Billie Joe that I used to know, standing on my doormat looking so cocky and over-confident, so...different?

When I finally snapped back to reality, I looked down to the floor, and then I looked up and met his eyes again, saying, "Do you want to come in?"
"Well, I certainly hadn't intended on standing on the doormat all evening," Billie replied, and his words cut through me like a knife.

Instead of retorting, however, I simply moved back out of his way so that he could enter the apartment. I couldn't help but staring at him as he walked by me. He just looked so different. He was wearing a pair of tight-fitted black pants, with a pair of old, black Converse, along with a black t-shirt that was covered up by a black leather jacket. His once curly, brown hair had been died black, and it was gelled and spiky, giving one the impression that Billie had just rolled out of bed. His skin was no longer pale but tan, and he was no longer all skin and bones; though far from fat, he seemed to have built up some muscle on his once-weightless form. His eyes, which were rimmed with several layers of black eyeliner, were probably the only features of his appearance that hadn't changed.

They were still just as dead and grey as they had been the last time I had seen him, though they had a hint of mockery in them as Billie looked down at my slight lack of clothing, and said, "I didn't realize that bath towels were considered high fashion these days. How come nobody told me?"
"They're not, asshole, I just got out of the shower," I retorted.
"I see," Billie said, with a smirk. "In that case, you'd better go put on something a little more decent. I don't think my girlfriend would like it if she knew I was hanging out with a girl that was using something as simple as a bath towel as her wardrobe."

It was a mark of how much I had changed over the past few months that I simply turned around and walked away, instead of turning around and punching him in the face, like I would have done not too long ago.

I quickly changed into some of my lounge clothes, wondering all the while why Billie had come back. What could he possibly want from me? I had written him off a long time ago, and I figured that he had done the same. I didn't hate him like I had, but I didn't love him, either. Honestly, I didn't really have any kind of emotion towards him at all. He was just part of the past, someone that I rarely ever thought about anymore. So why had he come back?

I walked back into the living room, and when I found that Billie wasn't in there, I continued on into the kitchen, where I found Billie rummaging through my refrigerator, presumably looking for something to eat. "If you're looking for food, you'll have to wait," I said. "My roommate's at the store right now picking up some groceries."

Billie turned around and smirked at me a bit. I had the sudden urge to choke him. "Roommate, huh?" he asked. "What's her name?"
"Anastasia," I replied.
"Cool. Did you meet her and decide to be roommates, or was it one of those freak things where they just throw you in a room with some random person?" he asked.
"I met her when my mom and I were being taken on the tour of the campus grounds. We started talking, and it turns out we had a lot in common, so we decided to be roommates," I answered.
"How touching," Billie responded, and I felt my blood boil.
"Now you listen here, Armstrong, and you listen well," I said slowly and deliberately, jumping angrily to my feet.
"I don't know what new lifestyle you're living that's turned you into a conceited little prick, but I'm not part of that life, so when you're in my house, you will treat me with some genuine respect, or you will be spending your evening on the doormat, understand?"

Billie stared at me for a second, as if he was trying to come up with something smart to say, but I guess he decided against it, because after several seconds, he dropped his gaze, and said, "Fine. I'm sorry."
It was the first hint of sincerity that I had caught in his voice since he had arrived. "That's quite all right," I said, sitting back down on the countertop.