2 weeks later*
Mike and Tré had finally helped Billie clean out the shit hole he was about to call 'home'. It looked pretty good. He had simple furniture, but he didn't want anything else until he was settled in properly. The only problem was this was Billie's first night alone. He didn't like it. Everything was too quiet. Tré and Mike would either be out, or with their families. Neither one would be alone.
Billie took a deep breath, feeling the anxiety. He had been through all this crap, panic attacks and waking up on the bathroom floor alone. He didn't want to go through it again. He picked his phone up and dialled one of the numbers he knew off by heart, Mike. He waited as it rang, and then he answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, uh... Mike..." Billie said.
"What, Billie what happened?" Mike had known something was wrong and it was five seconds into the call.
"I uh... I'm freaking out." Billie said. "Where's Tré?"
"He's here. We were just hanging out. Want us to come over?" Billie nodded, then realized Mike couldn't see him.
"Yeah. I don't feel okay with being alone. I have anxiety and this place is fucking creepy." Mike said they'd be there soon and hung up, and Billie walked around, trying to find something, anything, to pass the time. He picked up Blue, his guitar, and started strumming it slowly. He couldn't focus, and every time he tried to play a song, he couldn't do it. He tried new one's from Kerplunk!, and even ones from Dookie but he kept fucking it up. He threw his guitar on the couch, frustrated. Billie knew himself, and if he had tried again he would have ended up breaking his guitar. He sat in the middle of the floor and clasped his knee's to his chest, lying his head on his knee's. He remained that way until Mike and Tré turned up.
*No-one's POV*
Mike was fucking terrified. He could hear in Billie's voice that he was on the verge of a breakdown. He rushed Tré, which proved quite difficult, and they turned up at Billie's.
"Beej?" Mike asked, pushing the door open slowly. Billie wasn't there. They checked his room, the kitchen, and the spare room that was being used as a music room. No Billie in sight. Mike looked at the bathroom door and then at Tré, silently praying that Billie was in there. Whatever condition, as long as he was in there. They could fix him, they had before. And he had turned up in some pretty fucking weird places. He opened the door and saw Billie with his head on his knee's, which were clasped to his chest. "Beej?" Mike asked again, and Billie looked up, looking relieved to see them. Mike pulled one hand and Tré the other, and they got him standing. They took him to the main room, and sat down in a circle like children.
"You okay?" Tré asked.
"Please. No... no fucking sympathy shit. It's a load of fucking shit." He grumbled. He was okay...! "I tried playing my guitar but I couldn't make it fucking work. I tried every fucking song I've ever written. It's just frustrating, y'know?" He said, and Mike and Tré looked at eachother.
"Now that, we can fix." Mike picked up Billie's guitar from its abandoned spot on his couch, handing it to him. "You left Blue on the couch?" He asked, shocked. Blue was one of Billie's oldest, favourite guitars ever. It was covered in band stickers and had 'BJ' on it. Billie took it from Mike, and Mike grabbed his base. Tré didn't bring his drums obviously, so he made do with the end of Billie's bed. Mike worked through a song with Billie, and he was back. He was laughing his head off at Tré who was acting like he was on stage, thanking 'the crowd' for being 'the best fucking weirdo's ever' and jumping round the place, just generally being Tré.
Billie was going to be okay.
YOU ARE READING
Fresh Start: A Green Day Fanfiction
Fanfiction"Billie Joe really needed a fresh start. He didn't know how much he would hate living alone, and how much he would suddenly need to depend on his friends. He felt like he was missing something from his life. And he may have found it... Mike, on the...
