To know you is to hate you: Don't wear it out.

Later that evening, after a dinner of pot noodle and a can of beer, I retired to the bedroom. Tre remained in the living room to watch some movie about a bucket list.

I crept into the small bunk area and glanced over to the sleeping form on Billie Joe. He was tangled up in the sheets and his pillow had somehow ended up down by his feet. I bit my lip to stop myself from giggling at the raven haired man. Gently, I pulled off my jeans and shirt and lay down in my own bunk opposite from his.

For a while I just stared up at the wooden boards of Tre’s bed, my arms behind my head and cell phone resting on my stomach. It was times like these that I couldn’t help but think about my family back in Oakland. I had called Brittney earlier to ask how everything was back home. It was a daily routine of mine and, even though nothing really changed from day to day, I enjoyed hearing about her morning run to the store or about something that a friend of hers had said. Idle chit chat but welcomed all the same.

I knew for a fact that I wasn’t the only one of us who did it. Tre rang home all the time to get a daily dose of gossip and Billie Joe was always calling and texting his wife and kids. Apart from today. I hadn’t seen him near his cell phone at all and, injured, sick or not, he always would make contact with home. Suddenly I felt bad for Adi. She was probably worried sick that she hadn’t heard from her husband. Then again it wasn’t my place to call and explain things; Billie Joe would have to do that himself.

I sighed and rolled over to face the wall. For a while all I could hear was Billie Joe’s soothed breathing and the sound of the television. I was almost off to sleep when I heard the singer stir.

“Mike?” He whispered.

“Yeah?” I tried not to sound angry, but truth be told I was still more than a little peeved at him.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly fine BJ.” I rolled over to look at him and smiled, “How about you?”

“My head’s a little shit.” He groaned, “I musta blacked out.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Last think I remember that Rachael chick was screamin at Ross for something.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“You don’t remember anything else?” I sat up and clicked on the small reading light above my bed. In the glow of the torch I could see how pale and sickly he looked. It was scary.

“No.” He cocked an eyebrow, “Should I? I mean I remember having this weird dream about a chicken giving me her eggs to give to you but that’s it.” Quietly, he chuckled, “Don’t tell me that actually happened?”

I didn’t answer. I was busy weighing up the situation. He had yelled at me, there was no doubt about it, and yet he doesn’t remember a thing of it. I’m no doctor, far from it, but I’m willing to bet my bass that this wasn’t just a knock to the head anymore.

“Mike?”

“Yeah. Sorry BJ. I was just thinking is all.”

I decided not to say anything about it and did my best to change the subject onto something safer. So I asked him about his dream and listened intently while he told it. He didn’t once ‘black out’ but his movements and the way he sat was noticeably different. I had known the man since we were ten, so everything about him and his personality was burned into my memory.

Finally, after a few hours of talking, we decided to catch so sleep. He bid me good night and collapsed into his tangle of sheets. I returned the gesture and curled up under my duvet.

*************

The next morning I woke at seven am. Tre had slept in the living room and Billie Joe was moving around the small room. I lay in the warmth of my cot, dozing and thinking about the day ahead. The door to the cabin opened and closed and the next thing I know, a warm body is slipping in beside me.

I gently turn to see who was invading my personal space. Billie Joe smiled hazily at me.

“BJ? What’s up? You cold?” I asked.

“Nothin Mikey. I’m just a little chilly all by my lonesome over there.” He purred.

Billie Joe didn’t talk like that. His eyes were brighter than they usually were, he had on one of my t-shirts and a set of rosary beads. This was very unlike the raven haired man. He snuggled his head into my chest. Just yesterday he had called me a fag for putting my arm around his shoulders and now he basically climbs on top of me?

I didn’t push him off though. Instead I slipped my arms around his petite frame and held him closer. Why I did it? I have no idea but I just felt the need to protect him.

“You’s all nice and warm sweet pea.” He mumbled, “You’s smell nice too.”

“That’s sweat BJ.”

He chuckled, “I likes it.” He lifted his head to gaze at me, his nose was inches from mine, “Call me Twitch. I likes the pet names buy BJ implies wrong things.”

“Oh…um. Okay. Then.”

Twitch? What the fuck? I said nothing though; I didn’t want to ruin the moment. His body was so warm against mine, his skin was so soft and his hair smelt like smoke and shampoo. I could feel his muscles move under my fingers and could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“You’s okay papa? You’s awfully quiet.”

I was fine. More than fine. Despite my logically mind, I found that I was enjoying this. I never wanted to let him go. I knew what I was feeling was completely wrong but everything about it was just so perfect.

He shifted closer to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His pushed his left leg in-between mine and glanced up into my eyes. Then, out of nowhere, he gently kissed me on the lips. It sent a surge of electricity through my body.

“You’s beautiful Mikey.” He hummed.

I blushed as I felt his erection against my leg and I felt myself also getting hard. I protested with my mind, I begged my hormones to chill out, but no one was listening. He grinned up at me.

“Does daddieo want to have some fun times?” He moved his hand to rest on my erection.

“Um. Twtich, I’m not really sure-“

“Awww. Come on Mikey, you’s all hard.”

“Y-yeah. But. Um, it’s hard to be when you’re grinding against me like that. C-can we give it a miss B- I mean Twitch?” I pleaded.

I didn’t want to do this. He was my oldest friend and he had just suffered a head injury. Fucking him here and now would be immoral of me.

He laid his head back against my chest and sighed.

“Okay papa. We’s just snooze then, yeah?”

I rested my cheek against his head and, despite the lust filled agony I was in, I nodded.

“Yeah Twitch. We can just lay here and sleep."