I hereby present my very first piece of Hard Core Logo Fic *g*
Don't read if you're easily offended ... please do not read it if you haven't seen HCL and want to cos it's majorly spoiler-y.
Pairing: Billy/Joe sort of
Raiting: Pants but lots of bad words
Disclaimer: Not in anyway mine … they belong to Rolling Thunder Pictures. Please don’t sue me.
Fine by ToraK
I hear the sirens, but don’t pay any attention.
My lip’s bleedin’ like it’s never gonna stop and I’m more interested in that than some dumb fuck who’s got himself mown down or whatever. Besides, there are always sirens after our gigs. Fans get wasted, get smashed, sometimes they get dead. And then there were those one or two times, way back when, when I was young and turned heads, and I didn’t need to play Billy Hollywood to get people to notice me, when some girl, tanked up on whatever’d throw herself down the stairs cos I didn’t look at her long enough, or sign her tits or whatever.
Joe used to find that fuckin’ hysterical. Me? Mainly it just pissed me off.
My lip’s stopped bleeding and I lick it carefully. Shit, that smarts. Fucking Joe fucking Dick, acting like a spoiled brat cos I’m getting on with my life and he can’t do squat without me around to laugh in the right places. I take a chance and pull the wadded up tissue out of my nose. Thank God, that’s stopped bleedin’ too.
The bathroom door crashes open and Bruce’s sound-guy comes rushing in. What’s his name again? I’ve cadged enough cigarettes off him, but I’m fucked if I know what he’s called. He’s white as a sheet and tremblin’ like he’s coming down off a trip. He sees me and his eyes widen. His lips move but it takes him three tries to get any sound out.
Takes me longer to process what he’s saying.
I think he said Joe’s dead.
But he can’t have said that cos Joe’s not dead. He was beating the shit out of me twenty minutes ago so how the fuck can he be dead?
The guy’s babbling something about he’s sorry and a last shot and salute and how Joe seemed fine and all I can think is that of course he seemed fine. The only time Joe Dick seems fine is when he really, really isn’t. He seemed fine the time he mixed crack and E but he still wrapped his car round a tree. He seemed fine when his dad caught us screwing in the basement and kicked him out, but he still spent the night sobbing into the back of my shirt when he thought I was asleep. He seemed fine the first time I turned him down, but he wasn’t. And apparently he seemed fine right before he shot himself in the head.
And then it really sinks in that fuck, Joe’s dead. And all I can think is asshole. Absolute asshole, how could he do that to me? Yeah things were shit between us now, but we both knew it would have been okay. It always was. Whatever it was we came through it. We were a team. We looked out for each other. He was an asshole sure, but so was I. That was why I loved him more than anyone else I’d met.