SquishyCool Fiction

Rating: G

Summary: He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be gone. I'd lost him.

Notes: Another one originally written as Green Day, but really no relevance.

Originally Posted: 05.19.2006

I stared at him. I was confused, lost, in pain. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be gone. I'd lost him.

Yet here he was. Right in front of me.

"What're you doing?" I asked softly.

His flawless lips curved into a small, perfect smile. "I'm back. I'm here to see you."

I shook my head. "Why?"

His perfect smile turned into a less perfect frown. "Because I love you."

My eyes narrowed, my fists clenching at my sides. "No. You can't be here. You're gone. You weren't supposed to come back. Ever. I loved you, and you left me. I lost you. Now you're gone."

His brow wrinkled, giving him that confused look I'd seen only twice before. "What do you mean? I thought you'd be happy. I thought you wanted us to be together forever. I love you. I came back to you."

Salty tears formed in my black-rimmed eyes. I blinked, letting one fall down my cheek. "No, you're not back."

His confused expression didn't change.

"I lost you. You weren't supposed to come back. You're dead to me. Dead to everyone. Dead."

His mouth opened a little, but he didn't say anything. He just stared at me with big, confused, eyes. Eyes that had long lost their color.

He didn't remember. And now I had to tell him.

"You're just a ghost."

I shut my eyes tightly, holding my breath for a few seconds. When I opened them again, he was gone. The wall in front of me was blank, and the floor was once again empty.

I let out my breath, and another tear fell.

"You're just a ghost..."

end.

Rating: PG

Summary: I dialed your number. You didn't answer.

Notes: Sequel to Don't Tell Me You Love Me.

Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

I dialed your number. You didn’t answer.

I knocked on your door. You didn’t answer.

I found you on the bathroom floor. You didn’t answer.

I yelled to you from the hospital hallway. You didn’t answer.

I screamed at your body. You didn’t answer.

I asked you why at your grave. You didn’t answer.

I asked you if I should pull the trigger.

You didn’t answer.

end.

Rating: G

Summary: But I know you don't really love me.

Notes: This is a 2-part thing, the second part being You Didn't Answer.
Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

You told me you loved me. I hung up.

I didn’t tell you I loved you back, because I don’t. But I know you don’t really love me. I wish you wouldn’t tell me you do. It’s like lying. Those feelings aren’t love. I wish I could tell you what they are, but I don’t know either. All I know is that I don’t feel them, and they’re not love. You may think they are, and maybe that’s why you’ve had such a hard time with relationships. But they’re not. You might fall in love someday, but it won’t be with me.

That’s why I didn’t tell you I loved you back. Because I don’t want to hurt you.

But I’m afraid it may be too late for that.

I try to call you again.

And this time, please… don’t tell me you love me.

end.

Pairing: Billie/Mike

Rating: PG

Summary: Do you ever wonder if Billie appreciates Mike?

Notes: No names named, but it's still based on the best friendship of Billie Joe and Mike.

Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

I want to thank you. I know this is long overdue, but it wasn’t until now that I realized just how many times you’ve saved me from depression extremities, like suicide, or worse. You were always there, always forgiving, never about to leave, never leaving me alone unless you knew it was safe and I needed it. You held me when I needed held, and slapped me when I needed slapped. You were my best friend no matter how bad I fucked up. And for that… I thank you.

When we first met, I knew we’d be friends for a long time. Maybe even the rest of our lives. I was right. I still remember all the things I’ve been through that you’ve been there for me through. The good times and the bad. The joy and the depression. I never thanked you for every single time. Now I am. I’m sorry it’s late, but like you always said, better late than never. I wonder if you remember the times I remember. I wonder if you cherish the memories, like I do.

Like the day my dad died. I cried so damn hard. It ripped me up inside. But you were there. While my mom and my brothers cried to themselves, you held me, let me tell you about all the good times I shared with my dad, told me it was okay to cry, to be sad, to be mad. You were there. That’s what I remember.

Or the first time I had a panic attack. They put me in the hospital, alone, that needle in my hand. It scared me more than the actual panic attack. I was alone, in that white, sterile room, shaking, confused. But you came in. Actually, you rushed in, and made sure I was okay. You skipped school to come sit by my bedside in the hospital and hold my hand. You even spent the night, just so I wouldn’t be alone. That night, you promised me something. You said, “I won’t ever leave you, Billie. You’ll never be alone. I promise.” I’ll never forget that promise.

Or the day I realized I was bi. I was so fucking scared to tell anyone. I didn’t understand why I was like this. But once I told you, you made me realize there was nothing wrong with it. I felt so different and alienated, but you convinced me it was okay to be that way. Not everyone is the same. You were the first person to make me realize that. And I honestly think it saved years of my life that otherwise would’ve been wasted trying to fit in and be the same. I probably wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am today if it weren’t for you.

The time we stopped talking — one of my least favorite memories — killed me. Seeing you and not talking to you every day hurt so bad. But we couldn’t stop fighting. It was like every burden on our backs had weighed us down until we were unapproachable. Then, I broke down. And you held me. You promised me things would be alright.

And they turned out to be.

So for all the times we’ll never relive, but never forget, thank you. For all the times you helped me and guided me down the bumpy Road of Life, thank you. For being my one and only true best friend, thank you.

For never breaking a promise… thank you.

I love you so much and miss you more than you ever would’ve believed. I know this final rose on top of your casket isn’t much, but I hope these tears, thank-you’s, and choked-up goodbye’s will be enough to show you just how much you mattered to me, and just how thankful to you I’ll always be.

end.

Rating: PG

Summary: I just know you're going to hurt me.

Notes: Based on more emotions I had. Another one posted as Green Day, but has no relevance, so I'm now claiming it as original.

Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

Why do I get so excited whenever you call?
Why do I get all tingly whenever you touch me?
Why do I get so nervous and out of breath whenever you look at me?
Why do I feel so weird putting my arm around you?
Why do I question our friendship so much?
Why do I wonder why I?m feeling this way?

I tell you how I feel, but you don't seem to hear me.
So I repeat it.
You look at me seriously.
"I know," you say.
I apologize. I'm not sure why. I just feel like I need to.
"Don't apologize," you say.
You lean in and kiss me.
And the first thought that runs through my head...
"Please don't do this to me."
Because I know this will hurt.
Maybe not now.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But eventually, it will.
When you tell me that we can't be together, it will.
When you tell me you're not 'that way', it will.
When you tell me it's just too weird, it will.
When you tell me you made a mistake... it will.

You called and got out one sentence.
I hung up, crying.
I knew this would happen.
I knew better than to put my heart in your hands.
But I did it anyway.
And now it hurts.
It hurts so bad.
Because I let you hurt me.
I knew better.
But I didn't stop.

You were a mistake.

Now no one's here to make me feel better, to take away the hurt.
No one but this razorblade.

end.

Pairing: Billie/Mike, Mike/Tre

Rating: PG

Summary: But I would never throw him into a fire.

Notes: Inspired by a really old photograph.

Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

I gaze down aimlessly at the faded photograph. He and I, together, happy. It seems like so long ago now, but it was only ten years. It?s weird how old photos look. Faded and yellowed at the edges. They feel brittle and almost fragile in my fingers. I hold it gently, like I held him.

But I would never throw him into a fire.

It seems like just yesterday. We were happy and smiling, laughing together, kissing, cuddling. In the bedroom, the studio, in public. Then I walked in early one day, wanting to surprise him.

It was a surprise, no doubt.

He and Tre on the couch, together. Happy, smiling, kissing, cuddling. I almost choked right there.

I punched who I thought was my best friend and kicked him out the door, then screamed at the man I loved for a while before punching him and shoving him out the door, both of us in tears. After locking the door, I picked up the scrapbook of photographs I had had made as a surprise for him.

Old and new photographs of us, together, happy. The times I never want to forget. I burned them all.

The final picture rests in my hand. It's old, faded, and fragile. My favorite photo, because it brings back so many memories. The times he promised to never lie to me, only to love me.

With a tear, I toss it into the crackling fire.

As I stare at it burning, its faded corners folding in, the yellowed edges turning into black ash, I whisper out into the empty darkness, "I thought you were forever."

end.

Rating: G

Summary: All I can say is "great."

Notes: Just something short; again, was posted as Green Day, but has no relevance, so I'm claiming it original.

Originally Posted: 05.02.2006

Things have always been great, because you were there to make them great.

"I love him," you say.

"Great," I say.

"He loves me, too," you say.

"Great," I say.

"We're going to be together," you say.

"Great," I say.

"I loved you," you say.

I am silent.

"You didn't love me back," you say.

I look down, away from your eyes.

"But it's great, because he loves me," you say.

"Great," I say.

Now things are anything but great, because you're here to make me realize my mistake.

end.

Pairing: Billie/Tre in Billie's POV
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Billie can't be the reason Tre's alive anymore.

Notes: Based on some emotions.

Originally Posted: 05.22.2006

I walked into the dim hospital room, the sterile smell that already dictated the entire building getting stronger inside my nostrils. The countless machines that crowded the room beeped and flowed and moved and did whatever their function was. The bed was a few feet away. I spotted the breathing body lying under the few blankets, all of the machines and tubes leading to this one pile of struggling life.

Cautiously, I neared the bed, maneuvering over cords and around machines until I was at his side, both of my hands holding his pale, limp one. I bit my lip, glancing up at the steadily beeping heart monitor.

It was the only thing that assured me he was still alive and with me.

I looked back down at his pale, sleeping face. His chest weakly rose and fell in the corner of my eye.

"Tre?" I whispered out.

He didn't move or respond. But somehow, I knew he could hear me.

"Tre, I know you love me," I whispered, holding his hand tightly between mine. "But you can't keep doing this to yourself. I love you, but it hurts to see you hurting yourself just because you're angry at me. I can't stand to be the reason you overdose or cut yourself. I can't stand to be the one person you'd be willing to die for."

I took in a shuddering breath, holding back tears.

"I'm not strong enough to hold your heart. I'm not worthy enough to be the one thing you're living for," I whispered, my eyes filling with unwanted tears. "I can't do this anymore."

I remembered our last fight mere hours before. Just before I stormed out of the house, he had said, "Billie Joe, you'll be the reason my heart stops beating."

But I had only shaken my head and left. Left him there to cut his soft skin up with a dirty razor. Left him there to cry over me. Left him there to take a whole bottle of sleeping pills in hopes of having perfect dreams about the love we used to have. Perfect dreams about a time before shouts, slammed doors, and countless overdoses.

I sighed before letting go of his hand. "I really don't wanna do this... I love you, Tre. But... you'll have to go on without me."

Suddenly, the room filled with a long, loud, never ending beep. I glanced up worriedly and saw a straight line running across the heart monitor. I couldn't believe it. Then, his voice filled my mind.

"Billie Joe, you'll be the reason my heart stops beating."

end.

Pairing: Tre/Billie

Rating: G

Summary: Billie and Tre have a love like a romance movie.

Notes: Based off of something that really happened to me (in like, 8th grade).

Originally Posted: 05.23.2006

Tre looked at Billie sadly, quickly looking back down after their sad eyes met. He leaned against the wall of the building a little more, his hand loosely grasped by Billie?s.

"So... you just wanna get this over with now?" Billie asked softly.

Tre nodded mellowly, rubbing his thumb against Billie's hand a little. He hated this moment more than he'd ever hated anything in his entire life. But he knew it had to happen sooner or later. He knew they had to end their relationship now. It couldn't go on forever. It just couldn't.

"I really don't wanna do this," Billie said, his voice suddenly filled with sadness and laced with tears.

"Me either," Tre muttered, glancing up into the depressed, green eyes for a second before looking back down.

They stood there for a moment, facing each other, their sides slightly leaned against the wall, Tre's left hand loosely held in Billie's right. Tre let go and wrapped his arms around Billie's middle, pulling him close and hugging him tightly. Billie wrapped his arms around Tre and held him, their faces resting against each other's shoulders.

They just stood there for a couple of minutes, holding each other, their fingers occasionally rubbing at each other's backs lightly. Tre took in Billie's scent as much as he could, knowing it was his last chance. He wouldn't get to be this close to him again for a long time, if ever again.

He waited for Billie to let go so he wouldn't have to, but he finally got impatient and slowly let go, pulling away reluctantly.

"I love you," Billie whispered softly and painfully.

"I love you, too," Tre whispered back, slowly looking up and meeting Billie's emerald eyes again.

"I guess I'll... see you later," Billie mumbled, sounding a little choked up.

Tre nodded, looking back down.

Billie slowly stepped back, turning a little and beginning to walk away. He kept a hold of Tre's hand, grasping it until he was a few feet away. Tre looked over and watched his hand slowly slip out of Billie's, letting it drop to his side when he finally let go and walk away.

Tre looked up and watched Billie walk away sadly, glad he wasn't looking back at him. He tugged at the hem of his shirt a little, biting his lip and holding back tears. When Billie disappeared from sight, he slowly turned around and walked away, sucking back tears.

The tears didn't come until he was safely out of sight of anyone. Pathetically, he broke down on his knees and sobbed quietly to himself.

As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he remembered something Billie had told him just the night before.

"Our love is like a romance movie... it has to end sometime."

end.

Pairing: Tre/Mike in Tre's POV

Rating: PG

Summary: After Billie's death, Mike and Tre are split apart for years.

Notes: Inspired by an episode of Ghost Whisperer.

Originally Posted: 05.24.2006

The day Billie Joe Armstrong died was the day the world collapsed.

Or at least that's how it seemed to me and Mike. It ruined our lives and tore up everyone who had ever been close to Billie. It was so sudden and unexpected... we could hardly go on.

Needless to say, it broke the band up. We notified our record company of our retirement, knowing nothing would ever be the same again without our beloved front man, our best friend, our third leg to our tripod. I thought Mike and I would still go on to be best friends and lovers. I thought we would still move in together, like we?d planned before Billie's death. I thought he'd need me at a time like this as much as I needed him.

I was wrong.

A week after Billie's funeral, Mike sold his café and came over to tell me he was moving to a small town in Florida. He said he couldn't stand to stay in California, that there were too many memories and reminders of the best friend he'd lost.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, then gave me a soft kiss on the cheek and left.

His house was empty by the next day.

I sat on his lonely porch for a couple of hours and cried. He hadn't given me any way of contacting him. I guessed he didn't want to see me again. I faced the fact that I had to move on.

About 3 years passed. The shock of Billie's death had worn off for the most part, and everyone was moving on. Adie was raising the boys well, and I was keeping myself busy, playing and recording with a couple of bands, raising Frankito and Ramona, and looking for someone to fall in love with. As hard as I tried, though, I couldn't forget Mike. I still thought about him every night, and longed to just kiss him again. I missed him.

I was in New York, on my way to visit Lisea and Ramona. I had stopped at a small coffee shop to grab a snack. My mind was clouded with thoughts of Billie. It was the day before the 3-year anniversary of his death. I guess I wasn't paying much attention, because I was just walking out the door of the coffee shop when I bumped into someone, largely built and in a wife beater. I stumbled back, regaining my balance, then looked up.

"Sorry, I - " I froze, gasping. "M-Mike?"

He studied me for a moment, looking as if he was in disbelief that it could really be me. "Tré?"

I grinned and dropped the food in my hand, wrapping my arms around him and embracing him, an old sensation flowing through my body. His familiar scent that I had missed so much drifted into my nostrils, and the feeling of holding him again made my heart beat a little faster.

He hugged me back just as tightly. "God, I can't believe it's really you. How have you been?"

I slowly let him go and looked up at him, still grinning, feeling as if I was about to cry. "I know, this is so... unbelievable. I-I've been doing good. What about you?"

He nodded casually, smiling, looking me up and down. "I've been good, too. You know, spending a lot of time with my daughter, visiting New York for vacation."

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"I've missed you so much," he suddenly said quietly.

I blinked. "I... I've missed you, too. More than you could know."

He wrapped his arms around me again and pulled me closer, then leaned in and met my lips with his, mouths crashing together in a wreck of missed passion and forgotten lust. His tongue met mine and we explored the mouths we'd missed for so long. We must've kissed for at least 2 or 3 minutes before we finally had to separate and gasp for air, staring into each other's eyes, slowly remembering the flame we'd set aside for too long.

"God, it's been too long," he said softly, shaking his head, his blue eyes glued to mine.

Suddenly, a phone rang. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, pressing a button and putting it to his ear.

"Hello? Yeah, honey, I'm on my way back... okay... Yes, I'll get you a cappuccino... Well, I was going into that one coffee shop... Right, of course, you like the other one... Okay, go ahead and start the movie then... Alright, I'll be there in a minute. Love you, bye."

He turned the phone off and stuffed it back in his pocket, smiling sheepishly.

"Girlfriend?" I assumed.

He shook his head. "Daughter... little teenaged Stella."

I smiled again, raising my eyebrows. "Wow. It really has been a long time."

He nodded, then glanced over his shoulder for a second before looking back at me. "Listen, I need to get back to Stella, but I'll give you my cell number and you can call me tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded happily, watching as he pulled a pen and a notepad from his pocket, jotting down his number and ripping it off, handing it to me. I looked at it, then looked back at him, grinning. He reached over and rubbed my arm affectionately, giving me another smile, his blue eyes sparkling.

"See you later," he said.

I nodded. "Yeah, later."

Then he turned and left.

I got hardly any sleep that night, thoughts and memories racing through my mind. I got up the next day, not even thinking about what day it was, and called Mike's number.

He picked up and I could hear him crying. I immediately knew it was a mistake. Being with me would only bring back the pain and the memories. He said three words to me before hanging up.

"Too much pain."

end.