Sickness

Chapter 1

When Billie Joe woke up, he could have sworn he was hit by a bus. His ears buzzed and his brain clouded as he registered the reason for his awakening.

The fuckin' annoying phone. He picked it up and held it to his ear, clearing his throat to speak. "Hello?" He cursed silently as his voice still came out raspy.

"Billie? Is that you?"

Billie smiled at the warm tone of his wife's voice.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You sound.. dead. Are you alright?" She asked, obvious worry now laced in her tone.

"Yeah, my throat is just a little scratchy." Billie replied.

Lie, lie, lie. Your head is swimmin', man. Your eyes are heavy and you look like you've been dead for a while now.

"I'll say." Adrienne chuckled, going silent, before speaking again. "Just wanted to call and wish you good luck for the show tonight."

Alarm bells went off in Billie's head. A show?

Well, fuck me sideways.

"Yeah..yeah, thanks."

"I have to go now. Drink some tea."

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you two."

The couple hung up, and Billie curled up in a ball, suddenly feeling cold. He wanted a hug right now, but he was lonelier than... someone who was very lonely indeed.

His stomach twisted and he frowned, his face wrinkling into pain. He dropped his head, looking at his stomach. "Don't you dare start hurtin'."

Yeah, you just spoke to your stomach. I'm sure you've scared off any potential pain now, you're good.

Billie sat up, letting out a groan as his stomach began to cramp up worse. This wasn't good. He sat still for a moment, his vision swimming before him. His stomach turned to water and he felt that all too familiar feeling in his throat.

Running to the bathroom, he sat by the toilet as he threw up repeatedly. It seemed to never stop, as each time he threw up, his stomach cramped up, and each time his stomach cramped up, he hurled again.

He must have stayed there for around an hour simply chucking up the contents of his stomach before he slowly gathered the strength to stand and shuffled back to bed, curling up against himself. He was still going to do this show.

He had promised himself very early on that any sickness from him would not stop a show, he knew people payed good money to see the trio and he intended to give that to them, no matter if his leg fell off.

Mike and Tré were different though, he cared too much about them.

He once cancelled a whole tour, simply because of Mike's medical issue. Something was up with his heart, but he had gotten really bad back then. He'd explained to Billie that it felt like a needle in his chest that hurt so bad, he'd only be able to fall to the floor, gasping.

When Billie had seen one of these attacks straight on, the way that Mike doubled over in pain and went grey, almost like he was dead, was enough to scare Billie out of any show.

And Tré was a different story, constantly being hurt one way or another. Shows were cancelled for him too.

But not Billie, never. And he wasn't about to start now.

Not that he'd admit to anyone, but he felt like shit warmed up. His stomach cramped whether he moved or not, his head was banging, his ears ached, no, scratch that. His whole body ached.

He let out another groan and braced himself for the worst as Mike Dirnt walked in.