Whassthis? A return?
Title: Je Ne Sais Pas
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Adrienne/Billie Joe
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan fiction.
Summary: "I was selfish and I was stupid."
Notes: I have returned... and I haven't seen many people I recognize posting... so I'm guessing for a lot of you... this is like... a first post to you. But alas, it's not. I'm a veteran who's been... marooned on a desert island or something fun like that.
“Please don’t do this, Mike,” Billie Joe mumbled nervously, his pale hand gripping the bassist’s wrist firmly, “This isn’t what you want.”
Mike tried his best to harden his gaze, “Beej, if I didn’t want it, why would I do it?”
“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know. But I can see it in your eyes. It’s in your goddamn eyes, Mike. You don’t want to leave me. And I can’t figure out why you’re saying you do.”
The taller man slid his wrist out from the guitarist’s loosening grasp, “I’ve got to do this, Beej. Please don’t try to stop me. It’s taking all I’ve got just to say it once. Don’t make me say it again.”
Billie Joe looked at him pleadingly, “If you don’t say it again, I won’t believe that you mean it.”
Mike sighed, “Billie Joe, we can’t be together anymore.”
---
“God, Mike, at least talk to me, will ya’?” Billie Joe said with exasperation, “Please talk to me.”
“I doubt you want to hear what I have to say. Fuck off, will ya’? I don’t want to talk,” the taller man replied, walking briskly in the opposite direction.
“Mike, you’re being ridiculous.”
The younger man spun around and stuck a finger on the front man’s chest, “Am I really? A week ago you were telling me you loved me. Now you’re seeing some bitch.”
Billie Joe grabbed his finger like it was that of a small child’s and locked eyes, “Yeah, I know, Mike. But we have songs to write, shows to play, and a band to maintain. You left me. I figured you’d want me to try and move on from you. So that’s what I’m doing… I’m trying. And she’s not a bitch.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation. You want to jam and write music? Fine. We will. But don’t bring this shit up with me again, okay? And keep your fuckin’ girlfriend out of my way.”
Billie Joe narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand you, Mike, but whatever you want…”
---
Billie Joe pressed the cellular device harder into his ear as he listened to the phone ring while trying to navigate his way through treacherously heavy traffic. He checked his blind spot before merging carefully into the leftmost lane. The phone rang again as he resituated the way he was seated and mumbled, “Fuckin’ ass is falling asleep.”
Mike’s voicemail came through loudly, albeit crackly, and was followed by the ever-faithful beep and Billie Joe cleared his throat, which had suddenly closed up, “Hey Mike. I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to do coffee or something. You haven’t been answering your phone lately and I have something to talk to you about. Well, what the hell, I’ll just say it now. I’m marrying her, Mike. I asked her and she said yes. It’s going to be small and simple. Please, call me back. I want you to be my be-“
He grumbled as the voicemail cut him off and flipped the phone closed, tossing it on the passenger seat. He rubbed his face tiredly and sighed, glancing at the phone that wasn’t ringing and then merging to the right lane before his exit appeared. He took the exit and then drove down the familiar streets that he had traveled many times. Eventually he pulled into his bassist’s driveway and killed the ignition while screwing up his face. The garage door was wide-open and the vehicle parked within it was proof that Mike was definitely at home.
“So he’s been ignoring me,” Billie Joe mumbled softly, entering the house without even knocking.
When he got to the living room, he spotted Mike sprawled out on the couch asleep. An empty coffee mug was tipped over on the floor next to the couch and occasionally the right corner of his lips would twitch. The guitarist glanced at the answering machine to see that his message had been received. The light notifying any new voicemails wasn’t blinking and the little door that hides the tape was open with the tape missing. Billie Joe let his eyes wander and finally found the cassette laying in the recliner, with the plastic tape unwound from its spools messily.
Billie Joe shook his head and left Mike’s humble abode quietly. He got back in his car and backed out of the driveway and back onto the road all the while thinking out loud, “I… she’s been around for like four years now. He… he left me. I have no reason to feel guilty, but God, do I ever.”
---
Green Day greeted 2009 with fistfuls of optimism accompanying their soon-to-be released album. The year ahead of them was proving to fill up interviews, tour dates, photo shoots, and anything else that could be crammed into an already busy schedule of events. Early in the year, during February and March, their schedules seemed to have more free days than what was to come… no pun intended.
It was on a rather drizzly day in March that Mike met Billie Joe at a nearby park to bring up a topic that had been buried beneath years of booze and practice in the art of hiding one’s feelings. The guitarist arrived to find his best friend already sitting on the green merry-go-round, kicking lazily at the damp dirt surrounding it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat next to Mike, turning his head to look at the younger man’s profile.
“You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah.”
After a few minutes of silence, Billie Joe exhaled and said, “So…?”
Mike finally turned and looked him square in the eye, “I love you.”
Billie Joe cracked a smile, “I love you too, man. But what’s going on?”
“No,” Mike corrected, “I love you.”
“I- oh? Oh…”
“Typical Billie Joe Armstrong reaction. I should’ve figured,” Mike murmured, beginning to stand up.
“No, wait,” Billie Joe said, grabbing his wrist to stop him. It was then that Mike had a flashback of a dim memory of another time in the past that the smaller man had grabbed his wrist to make him stay and he had walked away instead. He sat back down and felt Billie Joe relax a little.
The two remained silent for a while and finally Billie Joe swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, “What… what made you think of that all these years later?”
“It’s a feeling, Beej, not a thought. It hasn’t… it hasn’t gone away. Shit, man, those kind of feelings don’t just disappear.”
“So… you never stopped?”
“No.”
Billie Joe felt tears beginning to prickle his eyes and asked the question he’d been pondering for years, “Then why’d you leave me?”
Mike let out an impulsive breath of near panic, “I don’t want to say.”
“I deserve to know, Mike.”
Mike shook his head, “I was selfish and I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”
Billie Joe hesitantly placed a hand on Mike’s thigh, “Please tell me.”
“I wanted to feel heartbreak.”
“You… you what?”
“I wanted to feel heartbreak. And I was afraid that I’d never feel it because you were my first love and I didn’t see any reason for us to breakup.”
“So… you just did it? Just to feel emotional pain?”
Mike chanced a glance at the older man, “You don’t think everyone should experience it at least once?”
“Well, I think… I… kind of. But Mike, if you can avoid it, by all means do it. It’s few that get the chance to escape heartbreak. And those few are lucky.”
“I’m sorry, Beej. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“I’m more sorry that you put yourself through it,” Billie Joe whispered, getting up and walking to his car.
Rifinito.
---
Well? Well? Haha. Man... it feels... weird to be posting again. You have no idea. It's been... well, I think livejournal told me it was like eighty or ninety-some weeks. Go me, right? I miss this. Let's see if I can keep it up, yeah? I have missed the comments... >_>
Author: Seven... well, Me.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Pairing: Billie Joe/Mike; Implied!Adrienne/Billie Joe
Disclaimer: Not real, don't sue. Fan fiction.
Summary: "I was selfish and I was stupid."
Notes: I have returned... and I haven't seen many people I recognize posting... so I'm guessing for a lot of you... this is like... a first post to you. But alas, it's not. I'm a veteran who's been... marooned on a desert island or something fun like that.
“Please don’t do this, Mike,” Billie Joe mumbled nervously, his pale hand gripping the bassist’s wrist firmly, “This isn’t what you want.”
Mike tried his best to harden his gaze, “Beej, if I didn’t want it, why would I do it?”
“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know. But I can see it in your eyes. It’s in your goddamn eyes, Mike. You don’t want to leave me. And I can’t figure out why you’re saying you do.”
The taller man slid his wrist out from the guitarist’s loosening grasp, “I’ve got to do this, Beej. Please don’t try to stop me. It’s taking all I’ve got just to say it once. Don’t make me say it again.”
Billie Joe looked at him pleadingly, “If you don’t say it again, I won’t believe that you mean it.”
Mike sighed, “Billie Joe, we can’t be together anymore.”
---
“God, Mike, at least talk to me, will ya’?” Billie Joe said with exasperation, “Please talk to me.”
“I doubt you want to hear what I have to say. Fuck off, will ya’? I don’t want to talk,” the taller man replied, walking briskly in the opposite direction.
“Mike, you’re being ridiculous.”
The younger man spun around and stuck a finger on the front man’s chest, “Am I really? A week ago you were telling me you loved me. Now you’re seeing some bitch.”
Billie Joe grabbed his finger like it was that of a small child’s and locked eyes, “Yeah, I know, Mike. But we have songs to write, shows to play, and a band to maintain. You left me. I figured you’d want me to try and move on from you. So that’s what I’m doing… I’m trying. And she’s not a bitch.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation. You want to jam and write music? Fine. We will. But don’t bring this shit up with me again, okay? And keep your fuckin’ girlfriend out of my way.”
Billie Joe narrowed his eyes, “I don’t understand you, Mike, but whatever you want…”
---
Billie Joe pressed the cellular device harder into his ear as he listened to the phone ring while trying to navigate his way through treacherously heavy traffic. He checked his blind spot before merging carefully into the leftmost lane. The phone rang again as he resituated the way he was seated and mumbled, “Fuckin’ ass is falling asleep.”
Mike’s voicemail came through loudly, albeit crackly, and was followed by the ever-faithful beep and Billie Joe cleared his throat, which had suddenly closed up, “Hey Mike. I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to do coffee or something. You haven’t been answering your phone lately and I have something to talk to you about. Well, what the hell, I’ll just say it now. I’m marrying her, Mike. I asked her and she said yes. It’s going to be small and simple. Please, call me back. I want you to be my be-“
He grumbled as the voicemail cut him off and flipped the phone closed, tossing it on the passenger seat. He rubbed his face tiredly and sighed, glancing at the phone that wasn’t ringing and then merging to the right lane before his exit appeared. He took the exit and then drove down the familiar streets that he had traveled many times. Eventually he pulled into his bassist’s driveway and killed the ignition while screwing up his face. The garage door was wide-open and the vehicle parked within it was proof that Mike was definitely at home.
“So he’s been ignoring me,” Billie Joe mumbled softly, entering the house without even knocking.
When he got to the living room, he spotted Mike sprawled out on the couch asleep. An empty coffee mug was tipped over on the floor next to the couch and occasionally the right corner of his lips would twitch. The guitarist glanced at the answering machine to see that his message had been received. The light notifying any new voicemails wasn’t blinking and the little door that hides the tape was open with the tape missing. Billie Joe let his eyes wander and finally found the cassette laying in the recliner, with the plastic tape unwound from its spools messily.
Billie Joe shook his head and left Mike’s humble abode quietly. He got back in his car and backed out of the driveway and back onto the road all the while thinking out loud, “I… she’s been around for like four years now. He… he left me. I have no reason to feel guilty, but God, do I ever.”
---
Green Day greeted 2009 with fistfuls of optimism accompanying their soon-to-be released album. The year ahead of them was proving to fill up interviews, tour dates, photo shoots, and anything else that could be crammed into an already busy schedule of events. Early in the year, during February and March, their schedules seemed to have more free days than what was to come… no pun intended.
It was on a rather drizzly day in March that Mike met Billie Joe at a nearby park to bring up a topic that had been buried beneath years of booze and practice in the art of hiding one’s feelings. The guitarist arrived to find his best friend already sitting on the green merry-go-round, kicking lazily at the damp dirt surrounding it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sat next to Mike, turning his head to look at the younger man’s profile.
“You wanted to talk?”
“Yeah.”
After a few minutes of silence, Billie Joe exhaled and said, “So…?”
Mike finally turned and looked him square in the eye, “I love you.”
Billie Joe cracked a smile, “I love you too, man. But what’s going on?”
“No,” Mike corrected, “I love you.”
“I- oh? Oh…”
“Typical Billie Joe Armstrong reaction. I should’ve figured,” Mike murmured, beginning to stand up.
“No, wait,” Billie Joe said, grabbing his wrist to stop him. It was then that Mike had a flashback of a dim memory of another time in the past that the smaller man had grabbed his wrist to make him stay and he had walked away instead. He sat back down and felt Billie Joe relax a little.
The two remained silent for a while and finally Billie Joe swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, “What… what made you think of that all these years later?”
“It’s a feeling, Beej, not a thought. It hasn’t… it hasn’t gone away. Shit, man, those kind of feelings don’t just disappear.”
“So… you never stopped?”
“No.”
Billie Joe felt tears beginning to prickle his eyes and asked the question he’d been pondering for years, “Then why’d you leave me?”
Mike let out an impulsive breath of near panic, “I don’t want to say.”
“I deserve to know, Mike.”
Mike shook his head, “I was selfish and I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”
Billie Joe hesitantly placed a hand on Mike’s thigh, “Please tell me.”
“I wanted to feel heartbreak.”
“You… you what?”
“I wanted to feel heartbreak. And I was afraid that I’d never feel it because you were my first love and I didn’t see any reason for us to breakup.”
“So… you just did it? Just to feel emotional pain?”
Mike chanced a glance at the older man, “You don’t think everyone should experience it at least once?”
“Well, I think… I… kind of. But Mike, if you can avoid it, by all means do it. It’s few that get the chance to escape heartbreak. And those few are lucky.”
“I’m sorry, Beej. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“I’m more sorry that you put yourself through it,” Billie Joe whispered, getting up and walking to his car.
Rifinito.
---
Well? Well? Haha. Man... it feels... weird to be posting again. You have no idea. It's been... well, I think livejournal told me it was like eighty or ninety-some weeks. Go me, right? I miss this. Let's see if I can keep it up, yeah? I have missed the comments... >_>