When I Come Around(a billie joe armstrong story)

Haromnies of Hope

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of leaves brushing against the window. Billie Joe Armstrong sat alone in the dimly lit kitchen, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold. He stared at the dark liquid, swirling it absentmindedly, lost in thought. His mind had been restless for days, ever since the conversation with Adeline where they had finally begun to unravel the tangled web of emotions that had built up between them.

But as much as he wanted to believe they were moving in the right direction, Billie knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't just a matter of talking things out; Adeline needed to feel like she belonged again, like her voice mattered. And more than anything, she needed to feel seen.

He let out a slow, tired sigh, rubbing his face with his free hand. The weariness wasn't just physical—it was emotional, the exhaustion of years spent on the road, in and out of rehab, away from his family, and trying to repair something that felt broken beyond recognition. His relationship with Adeline had been the most fragile of all, and the guilt gnawed at him constantly. Every time he'd come home after a tour or a long stretch away, he'd tell himself it would be different this time. He'd be present, he'd be the dad she needed him to be. But somehow, the distance always crept back in, and Adeline had pulled further and further away, retreating into herself, into her music.

And that's where he kept coming back to—her music. It was the one thing she clung to, the one outlet where she poured everything she couldn't say out loud. Just like him. Billie couldn't help but smile at the thought, a bittersweet kind of smile. She was so much like him, it hurt. The rebellion, the passion, the fire—it was all there, just waiting for someone to notice.

He needed to do something. Something big. Something that would remind her she wasn't alone, that she had a whole community around her, supporting her.

But what?

Billie took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, the familiar ache of uncertainty settling in. His eyes drifted around the kitchen, the memories of family dinners and late-night songwriting sessions flooding his mind. That was it. The music. It was always the music that brought people together. His entire life had been shaped by it, and it was the one thing he knew could still bridge the gap between him and Adeline.

But it couldn't just be any kind of gesture. He didn't want to sit her down in some forced, awkward family meeting and tell her everything was going to be okay. That wasn't his style. No, it had to be something natural, something that felt right.

Something like... a jam sesh.

The idea hit him suddenly, like a lightning bolt, and he straightened up in his chair. A jam sesh. At Gilman Street. The place that had given him his start, the place where he'd felt the most alive and free. It had always been more than just a venue—it was a symbol of everything he believed in, a place where people came together through music, where voices that didn't fit the mold found their place.

That's what Adeline needed. A space where she could just be herself, surrounded by people who loved her, who understood her. No judgment, no pressure. Just music and support.

His heart raced with the excitement of the idea. It was perfect. He would invite family, friends—everyone who mattered to her. And he wouldn't tell her about it until the last minute, so she wouldn't feel overwhelmed. It would just be... a space for her to express herself.

But first, he needed to get everything in motion.

Billie pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers hovering over the screen as he scrolled through his contacts. The first person he needed to call was Tim Yohanhan, the owner of Gilman Street. Tim had always been a solid friend, someone who had believed in him from the very beginning. If anyone could help him pull this off, it was Tim.