I lay there watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a semi successful hour of trying to get information out of him I only got four main facts
1) his name is Billie joe armstrong. 2) he is in fact 19, much to my surprise.
3) he was born and raised here in the Bay Area of California.
4) the sound of a ringing phone scared the living hell out of him. I found that out when my neighbors phone starting ringing. He screamed and just about dived under the table. I'm still unsure of why he's so frightened by it, but ill know the answer eventually. Other than that I know nothing. I tried asking him what happened or who did this but he refused to answer me. I gave up after an hour and decided against my better judgment to give him a painkiller. Usually I wouldn't just hand such powerful drugs to someone I hardly knew but every small movement he made looked painful and I knew giving him something strong would help him fall into a heavy dreamless sleep, god knows he needed it. I slipped him the pill then helped him into my bed. I insisted on giving him the bed and I would take the couch but he almost threw a tantrum practically demanding I either take the bed or share it with him. He tried arguing saying it was my house and he was the visitor and visitors sleep on the couch. He had more fight in him than I thought, which could be a good thing. I hope. With I sigh I gave in and agreed to share the bed. He seemed satisfied as I tucked him under the covers and fluffed the pillows. I stepped out if the room for a few minuets to grab a cup of coffee and a cigarette, it's been a long confusing day. When I returned he was in a deep sleep, not even moving when I climbed into the bed. I laid there for a while just watching him sleep, (creepy I know.) He looked so much more peaceful in his sleep. It seemed as if he was starting to trust me like he knew I wasn't going to hurt him. I reached out softly stroking his hair, now that it was clean it was so much more softer and somewhat fluffy as it dried. It hung down almost to his shoulders in curly black ringlets, reminding me again of a child in need of a haircut. I pushed some of it away from his neck exposing a mark I missed when I was washing him. After getting a closer look I realized it was a name carved into the skin right above his shoulder. BRAD. Who the hell is brad? Could he be the one who did this? I cringed at the thought of someone hurting this poor kid. He looked so innocent, it's obvious he didn't deserve this. I've only known this kid for less than three hours and yet I had a strong desire to protect him. Fuck it, anyone who wants to touch Billie joe is going to have to fight me first. Damn fatherly instincts always kicking in. The last though on my mind before I closed my eyes was what I was going to do with this green eyed teen.
