"See you tomorrow, guys." The manager of the diner said before Billie and Mike left at the end of their shift; Mike with a burger in his hand. He did have napkins but he made Billie have them so he could eat his burger. Usually, Billie would grab something too but today he wasn't hungry. It had been two days since (Y/n) had been in there and neither Billie nor Mike had seen her since. The two of them were best friends and had been for years. As they walked down the street, Mike was telling Billie about a new bass line that he had come up with; they had a band with their other friend, Frank, who just went by the name of Tré. However, Billie was too busy thinking about (Y/n) to listen to Mike. "Billie?" Mike asked eventually, making Billie come back into the real world and look up to see Mike staring at him. "Are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, yeah." He replied, still not fully listening to Mike. "What were we talking about?"
"The new bass line I came up with." Beside him, Mike sighed. "You're thinking about that girl, (Y/n) again, aren't you?" He asked as Billie shoved his hands into his pocket.
"Yeah." He admitted.
"Billie, you can't keep blaming yourself for the fact that her mother is an alcoholic. You hardly even know her," said Mike, wiping his hands on his shirt, Billie offered him a napkin but he refused one, causing Billie to roll his eyes at the pointless napkins in his hand.
"I know but you were not stood next to her like I was when her mother walked in. The look on her face." Billie said, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. "What if there is something that I could have done?"
"Like what?" Mike questioned. "What could you have done that would have changed her situation?"
"I don't know. Something. Anything." Billie said. "What if she's now in some sort of trouble? All because I didn't help her." Billie looked away from Mike, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Billie, do you think that part of the reason that you're overthinking this whole thing is that you may have a thing for her?" Mike said, giving Billie the side eye, as he bit into his burger.
"Okay, I admit that I thought that she was cute but --"
"Billie. You couldn't have done anything." Mike tried to reassure him. "I'll see you tomorrow, buddy." He said, patting him on the back and heading towards his house, leaving Billie stood alone in the middle of the pavement. His hands were still in his pockets and positioned close to his body; trying to keep him warm. Since talking about the events in the diner just days before, the air had turned cold. He placed the napkins in the pocket of his jacket and continued walking down the street, humming to himself and writing lyrics to a new song as he walked.
****
In her house, (Y/n) was in her bedroom, hiding behind the locked door, hiding from the world. She was laid across her bed, typing away on her laptop and making notes that she needed. She was home alone, things were silent and this was the best time to do work because she knew that she wouldn't get called downstairs by her mother every two minutes her help her with trivial tasks that would have been much easier to do if she were sober.
However, her mind was distracted from work because all she could think about was ways that she could stop the pain for both her and her mother, though selfishly, mainly her as part of her believed that there was no way of being able to bring her mother back from this; she felt too far gone.
The thought of this made (Y/n) cry, she was the type of person who felt the need to help people and that is what she had tried to do with her mother after her father left. She had always tried to show her that she was there for her and that this wasn't the answer to eradicating the pain of her husband leaving her; it was only passing the pain onto (Y/n). She threw her pen across the room in anger and held her hands over her eyes sobbing. She was used to these outbursts of emotion now and she knew that the best thing she could do was just wait for them to pass. She sat up, grabbed one of the pillows that lay on her bed and cried into it, letting out a small scream as she did. She knew that she couldn't stop any of this, not to mention, stop her mother from drinking. It was in this moment that she realised she was all alone; no-one could hear her scream, only the voices inside her head that told her she wasn't good enough, that she couldn't help. These were the voices that placed those screams of anger inside her body.
Downstairs, she heard keys fumbling in the door. She practically leapt up from her bed and ran to the mirror, wiping the tears from her eyes, and reapplying a small amount of makeup where she had wiped it off. If her mother knew that she had been crying, it never ended well. She opened her bedroom door and stood at the top of the stairs as her mother closed the door behind her. (Y/n) watched as her mother grabbed hold of the wall for support before falling to the ground. (Y/n) ran down the stairs to help her up. "Let's sit you down." She said as she pulled her up and held her steady. "No, I'm fine. I just need a drink."
"No, you don't." (Y/n) said firmly. "You need to sober up. You need water." She said as she sat her down in the living room before heading to the kitchen to get her some water. She took out a glass and poured the drink but the bottles of alcohol that lay on the side caught her attention. She knew that what she was thinking was the wrong thing to do but she had no other choice. She placed the glass of water down on the side, took a handful of bottles, before opening them and emptying them down the sink; refilling the vodka bottles with water and putting some in the bin. She placed them back to where they were before and picked up the glass of water again. She turned around to go back into the living room and saw her mother stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She had been watching her the whole time. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" (Y/n) walked past her mother and into the living room to where she was previously sat, placing the water by her table. "You saw what I did, and you gave me no choice." (Y/n) stated, a lump forming in her throat. 'You will not cry.' She told herself over and over again.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Her mother asked as she shook but (Y/n) wasn't sure if this was out of anger or because she was drunk. She would find out in later moments that it was a mixture of both. "You sound just like your father. That was his excuse when he left."
"Don't compare me to that man. I am nothing like him." (Y/n) went to walk away but her mother pulled her back by her hair and (Y/n) fell to the ground and hit her head, so hard that it began to bleed. Her mother stood over her, still shaking vigorously, the strong smell of alcohol was on her breathe. "Don't speak to me like that." Her mother spat as (Y/N) struggled beneath her. Her mother had hold of her arm, it was now red and nail marks were embedded in it, next to the scars and some fresher cuts. Her mother looked down at them. "Are you kidding me?" She questioned. "If someone sees that, that's going to be put on me!" She screamed.
"No-one knows. Please." (Y/n) begged. "Please, let me go." Her mother just looked at her. "Fine but get the hell out of my house." Her mother moved, allowing (Y/n) to get up, a pool of blood lay on the floor from her head and some blood trickled down her arm from where her mother had dug in her nails. She ran out of her house and down the street, the front door slamming behind her.
Now she knew that she was all alone and the pain was worse than ever.
****
Updated 2020
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Inner Demons || Billie Joe Armstrong
Fanfiction*Updated* "Let's be angry at life together." (Y/n) has never had much luck in life and was always the one that was left behind. Thinking that she is never going to be anything more than an outcast and eventually forgotten; she wants to give up. Tha...
