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Billie Joe always uses cherry cola lip balm for reasons foreign to Jason. And if he was being honest, it bothered him, more than it should, largely because he didn’t know why Billie used it.
He first took note of it during their freshman year of college, in English class. Jason could still recall it all so vividly—the moment he was first introduced to and immediately distracted by the shiny pink tint of Billie’s full lips.
The dark-haired man was slouched back in the uncomfortable classroom chair-and-one long table for a desk combo, chewing on his bottom lip and idly playing with his dark dreadlocks, some of which stuck up in the air at odd angles. Jason remembered how, even back then, the faint scent of cherry mixed with cheap cigars—like the ones sold for two for a dollar at the local convenience store on the edge of campus—lingered in the air around him, clinging to the dark-haired boys every move.
Then, in the middle of the lecture, the young man pulled out a sparkly cherry cola-flavored children’s chapstick from his baggy denim jean pocket. Without a second thought, he unscrewed the cap and began applying it, the glossy pink balm shimmering against the dim lighting of the classroom. Jason’s attention snapped immediately, his gaze fixed on the boys lips as they parted slightly, the sheen of the chapstick catching the light with each careful swipe.
Jason tried, unsuccessfully, to focus on the lecture. His eyes kept darting toward the green-eyed mystery’s shiny plump lips, watching intently from the corner of his vision, as if waiting for another glimpse of the sparkly tint being applied by the stranger sitting just a few feet away. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about the simple act of it—the casual, almost unconscious gesture—that felt so hypnotic. It was something so small, so unremarkable, and yet it consumed Jason’s thoughts in a way he couldn’t explain.
They didn't speak much at the beginning of that semester. Jason was content to observe from a distance, always intrigued by how the other boy could make something as trivial as a cherry cola lip balm feel like an emblem of some kind of mystery.
Eventually, they were paired for a group project, and that was when their first real conversation happened—not about literature or classwork, but about how tired the other boy was and how much he hated college.
Billie Joe introduced himself in the middle of their first conversation. It was after Jason had fumbled through an awkward exchange about how little sleep they’d both gotten the night before, as if sharing the same complaint could somehow make the stress of college feel a little less suffocating. But then, just as Jason was about to ramble about the impossibility of finishing his assignments, Billie stretched out one long arm lazily across their shared desk, his fingers brushing lightly against Jason's notes as he looked at him with that lazy half-smile.
“By the way, I’m Billie Joe,” he said, his voice casual, unbothered by the way Jason’s heart skipped a beat at the simple introduction. “Nice to meet you, man.”
Jason blinked. He had to blink again to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Uh, Jason,” he said, his voice a little breathless as he clumsily extended a hand. Feeling suddenly self-conscious of the way he was slouched in his desk chair, he quickly squared his shoulders only to realize that now his shoulders felt too stiff, too awkward. He hadn’t expected it to be this hard to talk to someone. Billie Joe—who was all wild hair, hypnotizing green eyes, and devastatingly soft pink shimmery lips—and was always accompanied by the scent of cherry and cheap smoke.
Billie was quick to take his hand and shake it; his grip was firm, but it wasn’t the handshake that left Jason a bit rattled—it was the way Billie’s gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than necessary, those green eyes glinting with something Jason couldn’t quite place. He couldn’t decide if it was curiosity, indifference, or something else entirely. But whatever it was, it made Jason feel like there was a spark—a quiet kind of electricity—that wasn’t there before.
“Jason, huh?” Billie repeated, pulling his hand away and effortlessly slouching into his respective desk chair. “I’ve seen you around.“
Jason's mind short-circuited. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, awkwardly pushing a stray lock of curly hair behind his ear. Desperately trying to figure out an appropriate response. "We, uh, sit next to each other.” Jason inwardly cringed at the obvious statement.
Billie Joe grinned, that same lazy playful smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t say…”
Jason’s felt his ears grow warm as he watched Billie Joe lick his shimmery pink cherry cola-flavored lips and cross his feet underneath the shared desk space.
Jason had always been bad at reading people, especially when his brain was busy cataloging every little thing about them. And right now, with Billie Joe standing so close and that lip balm glinting in the classroom's bright lighting, Jason’s thoughts were whirling at a thousand miles per hour.
Billie Joe didn’t seem to notice the effect he was having, though. He settled back into his seat with a lazy stretch, unbothered. "Well, it looks like we’re stuck together for the project, yeah? You got any ideas yet?”
Jason nodded quickly, trying to regain some sense of composure. “Yeah, I mean, I—uh, I was thinking we could look at, like, the theme of alienation in the novel?” He watched as Billie’s fingers drummed absently on his desk, his gaze flicking toward the window, the dull hum of the fluorescent lights hanging overhead suddenly far too loud.
“Alienation, huh?” Billie Joe repeated, his tone thoughtful. “Yeah, that sounds cool. Works with the whole I hate college vibe I’ve got going on.” He half-smirked again, running a hand through his tangled dreadlocks.
Jason felt a heat rise in his cheeks at the way Billie said, "I hate college.” It made him sound like someone who had long ago figured out the secret to detachment—someone who didn’t get caught up in the small stuff like Jason did. Someone who could make something as simple as cherry cola lip balm feel like a statement.
“Right,” Jason muttered, trying to mask the awkwardness with a half-hearted chuckle. “Right, well... alienation, college... sounds good.” He couldn’t focus on anything anymore. All he could think about was the way Billie Joe had leaned in just slightly, his scent mingling with the classroom air, the way his lips had parted as he spoke, and how Jason had once again been drawn to that damn lip balm.
A part of Jason wanted to reach out to ask why Billie Joe had such a thing for it—what it meant. But that felt like a question too personal, too strange. Instead, he just nodded along, hoping the conversation would move past the small, weird details of his growing infatuation.
But no. Somehow, Billie Joe made the little things seem important—like the way the light caught on his lips or the way he seemed to casually shrug off the monotony of life with a bored grin. It was all too much for Jason, and as their conversation veered into the project details, Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in over his head.
Since that first meeting, Jason sometimes had to take a step back and think about how much he appreciated having Billie Joe as a friend these days; it was a year after that first conversation, and Jason was grateful to even be able to tentatively call Billie his friend. It was a tentative title because despite the fact that Billie Joe practically lived in his dorm room after dropping out of college and knew everything there was to know about Jason, Jason couldn’t say the same about Billie Joe. But about the simple fact that Billie, despite all his laid-back demeanor, had a side to him that Jason couldn’t quite figure out, and it bothered him beyond belief.
Billie had a tough demeanor and an I don’t care attitude. The lip balm, however, with its gleaming pink tint and childlike scent seemed almost like a contradiction to the rough-edged persona. It was a small detail, but it stuck with Jason, becoming a subtle reminder that there was something deeper, something more layered to Billie Joe than what was visible on the surface.
It wasn’t until after they were tentative friends for a few months that Jason realized that the lip balm wasn’t just a habit; it was a small piece of comfort. A quiet, personal thing, something that helped him maintain a semblance of normalcy in a world that often felt out of his control. It was a strange comfort to Billie Joe when he was feeling anxious. That tiny, seemingly insignificant choice became the first crack in the wall that kept Jason from truly understanding Billie. And though it didn’t explain everything, it started to make sense of some of the oddities that had intrigued him from the beginning.
The following fall, a year after their first conversation, Jason sat at the edge of his dorm bed, legs crossed, trying to keep his focus on the book in front of him. The soft turn of each page was the only sound in the room besides Billie Joe’s occasional hum or sigh. Billie, on the other hand, was stretched out lazily on the bed, his body sprawled across the mattress like he had all the time in the world, like he had nothing to prove. His dark dreadlocks fanned out across the pillow in wild directions, making him look even more untamed.
Jason glanced over at Billie Joe from time to time, trying to pretend he wasn’t aware of how close they were. Billie had his feet resting comfortably in Jason’s lap, his black socked toes poking out from beneath the hem of his faded denim jeans. He didn’t seem to mind the intimacy of the arrangement. In fact, he never did. Billie Joe looked perfectly content, leaning back with one arm propped behind his head, the other hand rummaging in his worn-out backpack for something.
A moment later, Billie pulled out that familiar red and white sparkly cherry cola lip balm, unscrewed the cap, and without even looking, began applying it. The glossy pink tint shimmered as it caught the dim light from the small desk lamp, and Jason felt that familiar tug in his chest. He couldn’t help but watch the way Billie’s lips parted for the millionth time, the sheen of the chapstick gliding smoothly over the soft surface. It wasn’t the first time Jason had seen him do this by any means, but something about the way Billie seemed so casual, so effortlessly at ease with the whole thing, sent a shiver of fascination down Jason’s spine.
Billie Joe’s eyes flickered toward him, catching him in the act. Jason quickly turned his gaze back to whatever book he had to read for his English literature class, as if the book held all the answers to his scattered thoughts.
“You okay?” Billie’s tone was light, teasing almost, but there was a slight curve to his lips that told Jason he’d caught him in the act.
Jason cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, fine. Just… just trying to focus.” He wasn’t sure if he was lying to Billie or to himself. His pulse still hadn’t quite returned to normal.
Billie didn’t respond right away, but Jason could feel his gaze still lingering on him. And then, almost too casually, Billie shifted his position, sitting up and scooting closer, moving his feet from Jason’s lap and instead letting his legs and thighs sprawl across Jason’s thighs as he practically sat on Jason's lap, their faces rather close. The shift in proximity was enough to make Jason’s breath catch, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t—he didn’t want to.
For a long moment, Billie Joe stayed like that, legs across Jason’s lap, lazily watching Jason as he continued to apply the chapstick. The pink balm was now a part of their little routine—a weird yet comforting detail that had begun to define their interactions. Billie didn’t seem to notice or care about the way it had begun to affect Jason—how every time he applied it, Jason’s thoughts would wander, his mind would race.
Billie finally let out a small chuckle. “Do I make you… nervous?”
Jason looked up, his pulse quickening at the sound of the soft laugh and at the way Billie’s lips curled up again. “Nervous? I’m not… uh, I’m not nervous,” Jason replied, his voice lacking any real conviction.
Billie Joe arched an eyebrow, his green eyes flicking down to Jason’s clenched hands gripping the used book in his hands. “You sure about that? You look like you’re holding your breath.” His feet shifted slightly, a casual reminder of how close they were and how comfortable he seemed in this space with Jason, even when Jason was so clearly out of his depth.
Jason swallowed, forcing himself to look away from the lips that were now freshly coated in cherry cola gloss. “Yeah, I guess I’m just... distracted.” He glanced at the plastic tube of lip balm again, the sparkle catching in the light as Billie casually pressed his lips together, smacking them once.
“You’re distracted by my chapstick?” Billie asked, his voice low, and Jason could’ve sworn there was a hint of amusement in his tone, but also something more... pointed. The way Billie tilted his head, studying Jason with such intensity that Jason wasn’t sure how to read.
Jason’s heart thudded harder in his chest. “No. Not—no. Just... everything,” he fumbled, feeling like a fool. “I just... you know, I’m not used to... uh, being this close to someone.” He wanted to slap himself for being so awkward, but he couldn’t quite help it. Billie had a way of making him feel off-kilter.
Billie Joe stared at him for a long beat, and Jason could feel the weight of that gaze; he could almost feel the tension building between them. But instead of pushing him away or teasing him more, Billie just let out a long, dramatic sigh and smiled. It was warm and easy, like everything was fine, like they were just two people sitting in a room.
“Well, I can’t help if I’m a little distracting,” Billie said, shrugging with a lazy grin.
Jason’s chest felt lighter at the words, though the heat still lingered in his cheeks. He didn’t know why this moment felt so significant—why the simple act of Billie Joe applying cherry cola lip balm could make everything feel so intimate. He wanted to ask about it—about why Billie used it, what it meant to him—but the words stuck in his throat.
Instead, he shifted slightly, letting his hands rest more comfortably on the bed. The scent of cherry, mixed with the faint edge of smoke that Billie always carried with him, filled the air around them. And for a moment, Jason allowed himself to simply sit in the quiet comfort of it all—watching Billie, who seemed oblivious to everything except the small task in front of him, applying the balm again and again with the same deliberate motions.
And maybe that was enough for now—maybe, just for a moment, Jason could appreciate the little things without needing them to make sense.
Jason watched Billie, the quiet rhythm of his hands moving over the balm, the concentration on his face as he repeated the same motion, as though the world outside didn’t exist. It was something so simple, so ordinary—but somehow, in that moment, it felt like everything. The scent of cherry and smoke wrapped around them, familiar and grounding. It made Jason feel... safe, in a way he hadn’t in a long time.
For a split second, he considered the distance between them, the strange, delicate space that had settled over the past few weeks. It hadn’t been awkward—not exactly—but it hadn’t been easy, either. There were too many unspoken things hanging in the air between them, things that neither of them had voiced but both could feel.
And then, in that brief, fragile moment of calm, Jason found himself leaning forward without thinking. His hand, almost of its own accord, moved to Billie's cheek, brushing his thumb along the curve of his jaw. It was gentle, as if testing the waters—like the first step toward something he wasn’t sure he was ready for but knew he needed.
Billie Joe’s eyes flickered up at the touch, meeting Jason’s with a look that was soft but unreadable. The room felt smaller suddenly, charged with a quiet tension that hung between them. Jason swallowed, his heart pounding, but instead of pulling away, he let his lips fall to Billie's in a tentative, brief kiss. He could taste the artificial sweetness on Billie’s mouth.
The moment their lips met, everything seemed to stop—time, space, even the air between them. It was warm, a little uncertain, but there was something undeniable about it. It was Jason’s hesitation wrapped in a gesture, a silent offering, and it was enough to make his chest tighten with a feeling he wasn’t ready to name.
Jason pulled back just slightly, eyes searching Billie's face for any sign of reaction. There was a moment of stillness, the quiet stretching between them like an unanswered question. Billie's gaze remained steady; his lips still parted as if caught somewhere between surprise and something softer, more knowing.
Jason's heart raced, unsure of where this unspoken moment was leading, but then Billie’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. It wasn’t a laugh or a joke—it was something else, something that told Jason that maybe he hadn’t ruined anything, that maybe this wasn’t as strange as it felt in his chest.
Billie’s hand, which had been holding the balm, lowered to the bed beside him. His eyes flickered to Jason’s, as if contemplating the weight of the quiet around them, before his fingers gently brushed against Jason’s wrist, a simple touch that sent a shock of warmth through him.
And just like that, the space between them didn’t feel so heavy anymore. It felt like something new, something unfolding without need for words or explanations. Jason let himself settle into it, leaning back in, this time with a quiet certainty. Billie Joe's lips met his again, slower this time, as if they were both trying to figure out what it meant to be here, in this moment, together.
For once, Jason didn’t feel the need to understand it all—didn’t need anything to make perfect sense. All he needed was this: the warmth of Billie's skin, the softness of his lips, and the feeling that whatever came next wasn’t worth worrying over, not when he was basking in the glow of Billie Joe’s subtle confidence, soft lips, and artificial cherry scent.