How We Stay Here (or Waiting)
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Green Day
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
1,626
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Green Day
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
1,626
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Green Day. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part Seven: You Drink Your Coffee and I'll Be Your Slut
How We Stay Here (or Waiting)
Part Seven
Wake up
*Billie’s POV*
He’s in the kitchen when I wake up, drinking coffee and staring out the window. He doesn’t turn when he hears my footsteps, doesn’t make any sign to show that he knows I’m there. But he does.
“Mike?”
“Hey, Billie.” He doesn’t turn, just takes another drink of coffee. I can tell by the face he makes that it’s cold. He sets the mug on the counter and turns, finally. “You didn’t think I’d show, did you?”
“Not this early.”
Mike gives a small smile. “It’s three in the afternoon, Billie Joe.”
I give a small frown and turn to look at the clock. 3:17. “Oh.”
“Joey and Jake?”
“Adrienne.”
He nods. Then he crosses the kitchen, opens the sliding door and steps outside. I follow him, shaking me head at the cigarette he offers me. “So . . .”
“So.”
“So, why’d you come back?”
Mike looks at me and exhales sharply. “I never said I was back, Billie.”
“Then why are you here?” I snap.
“If I remember correctly, you showed up at my hotel room and threatened me.”
I don’t like the one of his voice. I don’t like how he sounds so cool, so calm and distant.
“What do you want?”
“You first.” he says, putting out his cigarette and lighting another.
*Mike’s POV*
He avoids my eyes for a moment, biting his lip. “I can’t.” he finally says softly. He gives me a sad look. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t . . . I need to know, Mike.”
“I don’t have an answer, Billie.”
“Yeah,” he says, setting his jaw, “you do. You’ve got a fucking answer, Mike, you just don’t have any reason for it.”
*Billie’s POV*
I move for the door, but Mike’s voice stops me cold.
“It’s too hard loving you.”
I turn and look at him, hardly believing what I just heard. “Hard? It’s hard to love me?”
He stubbornly refuses to look at me. “Yeah.”
“What’d you think it was goin’ to be? A fucking picnic?” I can’t believe this is what’s been keeping him at that hotel room. This fucking . . . copout. It’s complete bullshit.
He looks at me. “It isn’t supposed to be this hard.”
“Like hell it’s not.” I snap. “Jesus Christ, Mike.” I curse inwardly as I feel the nausea hit me. I open the door, walk to the sink and vomit. Then I turn on the water, grab a paper towel and wipe my mouth. Then I walk outside.
He’s almost glaring at me. “Why the fuck are you doing that?”
I want to hit him, I really do. But I refrain. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop puking when you stop being a dick.”
He moves for the door, but I push him back. “We’re not done here.” He glowers at me, but I press on. “You’re telling me that the reason you’ve been stay in that fucking hotel, drinking until you pass out . . . is because loving me is hard? That’s why?”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
“You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, Mike, I don’t know how you managed to get that goddamned diploma.” I shake me head slightly. “If love were fucking easy, don’t you think there’d be more of it?”
“Billie—“
“No! You shut up and listen to me! Love isn’t fucking easy. You have to work your ass off and if you don’t, you’re not doing it right. Don’t tell me it’s too fucking hard to be in love with. That’s pure bullshit.”
“I’m not playing this game with you, Billie Joe.”
I stare at him and he stares back. “Fine.”
He looks confused. “Fine?”
“Yeah, fine.” I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t want to play this game either. I’m sick of you and your stupid games and the fucking joke this marriage has become.”
*Mike’s POV*
My eyes widen. “Wh-What do you . . . Billie?”
He doesn’t say anything, just pulls open the door and walks into the house. I follow him, not even bothering to shut the door. He brushes past me to do it. He doesn’t even look at me as he walks to the fridge, pulling out a beer.
“Billie.”
He leans against the counter, continuing to ignore me as he opens the alcoholic beverage in his hand and takes a drink.
“Billie!” I cross the kitchen, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him. The beer can goes flying, but neither of us seem to care.
“I thought this was what you wanted.” he says in a cold voice. “For me to just shut the fuck up and listen to everything you say. Take it as fucking law. Isn’t that what you wanted, Mike?”
“I never said that!”
“Well, what do you want then?” He’s saying it in the same creepy voice.
“Stop talkin’ like that. You’re freaking me out.”
“Whatever you want.” he says in his normal voice, shrugging.
“Knock it off!”
“I’m not doing anything.” He reaches up and puts his arms around my neck. I don’t like where this is going. “I’ll be your slut, your wife, your husband, your slave. Whatever you’d like me to be. Isn’t that what you want?”
I push him away, eyes widening. “Knock it the fuck off, Billie Joe!” He just looks at me like . . . like he’s waiting for orders or something. “I don’t want you to do everything I say!” I shout.
He crosses his arms. “Then explain to me what exactly it is you do want, Mike, because I’m running out of ideas pretty damn quick.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Do you even give a shit about this marriage anymore?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then tell me what we’re going to do. I mean, you don’t want a subservient slut and you don’t want me to be a stubborn ass . . . and we both know I’m a stubborn ass ninety-five percent of the time.”
“No fucking kiddin’.”
“I love you, Mike.” he says, voice soft and completely sincere. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But that isn’t going to hold us together much longer.”
*Billie’s POV*
“I need an answer.”
He gives me that look that says he’s completely fed up with me but is going to try not to fly off the handle. “I don’t have one.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Mike . . . I want a divorce.”
Part Seven
Wake up
*Billie’s POV*
He’s in the kitchen when I wake up, drinking coffee and staring out the window. He doesn’t turn when he hears my footsteps, doesn’t make any sign to show that he knows I’m there. But he does.
“Mike?”
“Hey, Billie.” He doesn’t turn, just takes another drink of coffee. I can tell by the face he makes that it’s cold. He sets the mug on the counter and turns, finally. “You didn’t think I’d show, did you?”
“Not this early.”
Mike gives a small smile. “It’s three in the afternoon, Billie Joe.”
I give a small frown and turn to look at the clock. 3:17. “Oh.”
“Joey and Jake?”
“Adrienne.”
He nods. Then he crosses the kitchen, opens the sliding door and steps outside. I follow him, shaking me head at the cigarette he offers me. “So . . .”
“So.”
“So, why’d you come back?”
Mike looks at me and exhales sharply. “I never said I was back, Billie.”
“Then why are you here?” I snap.
“If I remember correctly, you showed up at my hotel room and threatened me.”
I don’t like the one of his voice. I don’t like how he sounds so cool, so calm and distant.
“What do you want?”
“You first.” he says, putting out his cigarette and lighting another.
*Mike’s POV*
He avoids my eyes for a moment, biting his lip. “I can’t.” he finally says softly. He gives me a sad look. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t . . . I need to know, Mike.”
“I don’t have an answer, Billie.”
“Yeah,” he says, setting his jaw, “you do. You’ve got a fucking answer, Mike, you just don’t have any reason for it.”
*Billie’s POV*
I move for the door, but Mike’s voice stops me cold.
“It’s too hard loving you.”
I turn and look at him, hardly believing what I just heard. “Hard? It’s hard to love me?”
He stubbornly refuses to look at me. “Yeah.”
“What’d you think it was goin’ to be? A fucking picnic?” I can’t believe this is what’s been keeping him at that hotel room. This fucking . . . copout. It’s complete bullshit.
He looks at me. “It isn’t supposed to be this hard.”
“Like hell it’s not.” I snap. “Jesus Christ, Mike.” I curse inwardly as I feel the nausea hit me. I open the door, walk to the sink and vomit. Then I turn on the water, grab a paper towel and wipe my mouth. Then I walk outside.
He’s almost glaring at me. “Why the fuck are you doing that?”
I want to hit him, I really do. But I refrain. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop puking when you stop being a dick.”
He moves for the door, but I push him back. “We’re not done here.” He glowers at me, but I press on. “You’re telling me that the reason you’ve been stay in that fucking hotel, drinking until you pass out . . . is because loving me is hard? That’s why?”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
“You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, Mike, I don’t know how you managed to get that goddamned diploma.” I shake me head slightly. “If love were fucking easy, don’t you think there’d be more of it?”
“Billie—“
“No! You shut up and listen to me! Love isn’t fucking easy. You have to work your ass off and if you don’t, you’re not doing it right. Don’t tell me it’s too fucking hard to be in love with. That’s pure bullshit.”
“I’m not playing this game with you, Billie Joe.”
I stare at him and he stares back. “Fine.”
He looks confused. “Fine?”
“Yeah, fine.” I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t want to play this game either. I’m sick of you and your stupid games and the fucking joke this marriage has become.”
*Mike’s POV*
My eyes widen. “Wh-What do you . . . Billie?”
He doesn’t say anything, just pulls open the door and walks into the house. I follow him, not even bothering to shut the door. He brushes past me to do it. He doesn’t even look at me as he walks to the fridge, pulling out a beer.
“Billie.”
He leans against the counter, continuing to ignore me as he opens the alcoholic beverage in his hand and takes a drink.
“Billie!” I cross the kitchen, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him. The beer can goes flying, but neither of us seem to care.
“I thought this was what you wanted.” he says in a cold voice. “For me to just shut the fuck up and listen to everything you say. Take it as fucking law. Isn’t that what you wanted, Mike?”
“I never said that!”
“Well, what do you want then?” He’s saying it in the same creepy voice.
“Stop talkin’ like that. You’re freaking me out.”
“Whatever you want.” he says in his normal voice, shrugging.
“Knock it off!”
“I’m not doing anything.” He reaches up and puts his arms around my neck. I don’t like where this is going. “I’ll be your slut, your wife, your husband, your slave. Whatever you’d like me to be. Isn’t that what you want?”
I push him away, eyes widening. “Knock it the fuck off, Billie Joe!” He just looks at me like . . . like he’s waiting for orders or something. “I don’t want you to do everything I say!” I shout.
He crosses his arms. “Then explain to me what exactly it is you do want, Mike, because I’m running out of ideas pretty damn quick.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Do you even give a shit about this marriage anymore?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then tell me what we’re going to do. I mean, you don’t want a subservient slut and you don’t want me to be a stubborn ass . . . and we both know I’m a stubborn ass ninety-five percent of the time.”
“No fucking kiddin’.”
“I love you, Mike.” he says, voice soft and completely sincere. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. But that isn’t going to hold us together much longer.”
*Billie’s POV*
“I need an answer.”
He gives me that look that says he’s completely fed up with me but is going to try not to fly off the handle. “I don’t have one.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Mike . . . I want a divorce.”