Welcome to Paradise // Billie Joe Armstrong // #Wattys2017

Give Me Novacaine

I'm not going to take the time to describe how I woke up this morning in the dusty environment of the bar without the arms of Billie around me. And I'm not going to try to put into words the fear I felt when I realized he wasn't anywhere else in the bar either.

Because right now, as I'm frantically running around, zig-zagging between streets and alleyways, there is no time available for such poetry. I keep going, ignoring my sore legs and the throbbing pain in my lower stomach.

The town is relatively small, two streets walking parallel to each other, but I have lost all sense of direction as I'm desperately trying to find Billie and seem to keep passing the same spots over and over again. I shout his name from the top of my lungs, not thinking about the wrong kind of attention I might attract by doing so.

After about ten minutes of aimlessly going from place to place, my lungs give in and my breathing becomes more rapid, less steady, so I stop in my pace, leaning against the wall of a brick building, supposedly a former library.

I look around me, at the far end of the street I can see the bar, hidden away in the shadow of the buildings around it, almost being engulfed by them. It looks so tiny and vulnerable from a distance, as if nothing lies within it, but the meaning that place carries is something only a visitor will be able to discern.

Apart from the occasional rustling sound of a trespassing piece of paper, the town is quiet. Almost too quiet; the thought crosses my mind in a flash, but I remain calm, listening to the sound of my heavy breathing and the pounding of my heart.

Until those two sounds are no longer the only two, a third noise appearing in the -once- quiet environment. "Ah fuck" I whisper as I pick up my speed again, quickly looking around me, hoping to spot a glimpse of Billie somewhere, but apart from me and the cuntfucking walker chasing my tail, there is no one in the street.

Without looking behind me, I scamper towards the bar, my eyes glued to the ground beneath me as I do everything I can not to trip. As I make my way into the alley and attempt to climb onto the dumpster, a loose thread coming from my jeans gets stuck behind one of the screws. I tug on it as hard as I can, but the thin piece of yarn seems unbreakable.

With the nearby walker appearing closer, the pressure starts rising and my hands increasingly become shakier up until a point I can't even get a hold of the thread anymore. I pull my foot with all the force I have in me, but it doesn't do any good. I now see the walker standing in the entrance of the alley, it's throat producing gargling sounds.

I silently cry as I the shit piece of rotten flesh comes closer to me, praying to god for a miracle to happen - which, bear in mind, is not something I do very often. Where the heck have you gone, Billie? I think to myself.

At the moment, I'm fearing for his life as much as I am for mine.

All of a sudden, it strikes me that I took my knife with me this morning as I went to search for Billie. the sharp object gives me a little dominance over the situation again, by cutting myself out of it, pulling my body entirely on the dumpster almost instantly.

I clumsily get through the window, the walker behind me just not fast enough to get a hold of my leg, and drop onto the floor of the bar. I groan, the muscles in my body aching. I look up and almost flinch backwards as I try to take in what's in front of me:

Billie sitting on the matrass, a bottle of vodka lightly held by his right hand. He watches me mindlessly and numb, staring more at the wall behind me than actually at my presence. It makes me wonder if he even knows I'm here.

"Billie?" I ask softly "are you alright? Where have you been?"

Billie shifts his head a little, now staring at me, but still with the glassy look held by his eyes. "I'm great" he replies, looking down at the floor. "Been walking a bit"

I stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to do or what to feel. "Y-you've been... walking?" I stutter in disbelief. "You can't just take walks anymore? It's way too dangerous, there's a walker right outside the bar!"

Billie just sighs as he repositions himself, his legs now crossed and his head resting against the wall. The look on his face screams sadness, terror, disbelief, but also... grief?

My mind goes back to the days I've spent with him, delving for something that has occurred that might've upset him, but there's nothing to find. Everything seemed fine yesterday, we couldn't sleep; I was stuck with questions and Billie was overthinking the vision, but nothing happened that could've made him into the state he is in now. Until I remember the look of fear that crossed his expression.

I slowly walk over to Billie and take a seat on the matrass. As I'm now closer to him, I can see his green eyes are glistening with tears, his cheeks damp. "Please tell me what happened" I whisper softly, lightly placing my hand on his'.

Billie lifts his head and, for the first time since I entered the bar today, looks me in my eyes, his' covered up by a brick wall held together by fear and pain. It gives me goosebumps all over my body, making me wonder what could've happened that made him feel this way. Whatever it must've been, I hope it has nothing to do with me.

Cut the crap, Aileen. Stop being so selfish, you're not always in the center of attention.

I try to ignore the destructive thought, but the thing with thoughts is, is that they are unexpected and often sharp, cutting through your soul like a razorblade. And there is nothing you can do to control them, no matter how much you'd want to.

Suddenly, Billie pulls me into the real world again as he finally speaks.

"He's dead."

A/N: HAHA well shit, amirite?

Sorry for the cliffhanger, I promise I will clear things up in the next chapter :) Also, this story has almost reached 1K reads and you have absolutely no clue how happy I am, I can't thank you guys enough <3 I worked really hard for it. So, with that said; rate, comment, eat this chapter if u digged it.

xx Nina