Seizure. {Billie/Tré}

one.

×Hello! It's been a while, but for some reason I really wanted to write this one. Just a quick disclaimer, I obviously don't own the green day guys and I'm also not an expert on epilepsy -- my brother has it so most of this will be based on my experience with that, but I'll do my best to research some more so I'm not just guessing stuff. Hope you enjoy!×

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Tré had been acting funny all day.

Mike hadn't noticed, he was used to Tré being weird. But Billie had noticed that his favourite person was acting a little off, even for Tré.

Mike set his bass on the couch and got to his feet, putting his jacket on. "Beej what do you want from Starbucks?"

Billie had been writing, editing the lyrics he had down on paper. They still didn't sound right.

Making American Idiot kind of a story had sounded like a great idea at first, until Billie realised he had to fucking write the thing, and make it all make sense.

He nodded in reply to Mike's question, knowing his best friend knew exactly what his order would be anyways.

Mike nodded in response, turning to Tré. "Drummer boy? Any requests?"

It wasn't until Billie realised that Tré had ignored Mike that he looked up.

"Tré? Do you want a coffee?" Mike tried again, shifting from foot to foot.

Suddenly Tré shook himself out of it, blinking up at Mike and looking guilty. "Huh? No, no I'm alright. Thanks though."

He went back to gently tapping at his drums and Mike gave Billie a look - a "what the fuck" look - before he headed out the door.

Billie looked over at his drummer from the couch he was currently slouched on.

Tré actually looked a bit shitty, Billie realised. His normally perfect hair was all kinds of fucked up, as if he hadn't even tried with it this morning. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Hey Tré, you alright?" He inquired, not being able to stop himself. "You look kinda rough, man."

Tré simply nodded his head and Billie didn't know if that meant yes, he was okay, or yes he looked rough.

"Anything you wanna talk about, or.." Billie let the question hang in the air. He was never really that good with his own emotions, never mind other people's.

"No thanks. I'm okay." Tré almost said it like it was rehearsed, robotic.

Billie furrowed his brow in concern, going in the bathroom to piss and ponder.

He was washing his hands when he heard the noise.

He stuck his head around the door frame from the bathroom and he actually heard Tré before he saw him.

He only heard him because he was on the floor and having what looked like some sort of fit.

It was so intense that Billie thought Tré was fucking around at first -- he quickly realised that he wasn't. "Tré!"

He yelled his friends name as he ran to him, skidding onto his knees by his side. Tré was flat on his back, his whole body shaking and his eyes rolled back into his head. His breathing wasn't right either. Billie didn't know whether to try and still him or not, but the first thing he did was stick his hand under Tré's head since he was hitting it off the floor quite violently.

But then that meant that Billie was stuck, and he had left his phone on the couch. "Tré? Hey Tré, are you alright? Hey, listen to me." Billie was panicked, his eyes full of tears. "What do I do.." He was asking himself but it sounded like he was asking Tré, as if he could help right now.

Just as Billie was about to make a run for his phone and just hope Tré didn't hurt his head too bad, the drummer suddenly relaxed and stilled.

Billie blinked his tears away, smoothing Tré's hair back. "Are you okay?"

Tré blinked his eyes, the first thing he saw being Billie, shitscared. "Mm' okay," he managed, just wanting to sleep for a hundred years. His whole body ached, he felt like he was under cement.

Billie lifted Tré up, his hands still wet as he set him on the couch and rubbed his arm, giving him a second to recover before he started asking questions.