The Truth/Jimmy, chapter 2
As the tour buses came into sight, towering silhouettes against the rapidly setting sun, Billie felt the first pang of nervousness enter his chest. He was going to tell them, he was, but he was unsure. Unsure of where to start, unsure of how to tell them, unsure of what he was going to tell them and what he would leave until they got used to the idea of...of it. Billie raised his hand to the door of the tour bus he shared with Mike and Tre, knocking once before pushing it open. He smiled slightly, feeling numb as he saw the two of them jump at the sudden noise of the door opening. He stepped inside, wiping his hands nervously on his jeans and taking a deep breath.
"Hey," he muttered. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but his brain froze and reflexes took over. He glanced down at the thin carpet covering the bus, and found himself once again trying to work out exactly what colour it was meant to be under the various stains scattered over it.
"Hey," Tre said, while Mike smiled at him.
"Can I, erm...can I talk to you two, for a second?" he asked slowly, making no move to sit down. "Well, maybe more than a second, but...I just need to..." he found himself unable to complete any of his sentences. To his surprise, at his words Mike and Tre shot alarmed glances at each other.
"Billie..." Mike began.
"We were going to tell you, realy, you don't have to..." Tre said at exactly the same time.
"What?" Billie asked, momentarily forgetting about his plan in light of these new distractions. He mentally ran through every conversation he could remember having with the pair in hope of working out what they were talking about.
"Erm..." Tre stammered, looking helplessly at Mike. He had clearly not bargained on Billie having no idea what he was talking about.
"We...Bill, don't think it's weird or anything, but we...we, erm..." Mike said, stuttering with apparent nerves. Billie looked at his friends, perplexed. It seemed he wasn't the only with secrets after all, although they seemed to be sharing theirs' and his was his very own burden.
"We had sex," Tre blurted out. "We were drunk, and we had sex."
"And..?" Billie asked, sensing there was more to come than that.
"And it happened, again...when we were, well, not drunk," Mike added, determinedly not looking at Billie.
"So..." Billie said slowly as it clicked. "You two are like...a couple?"
"Erm...kinda," Tre said, looking quickly at Mike before looking back at Billie. Mike just looked at Billie, nodding slowly.
"Okay. Cool, I guess," Billie said, not really paying attention again. He was trying to work out whether this information was going to make telling them the truth about...about a lot they were curious about, any easier. He decided that in all honesty it didn't make a lot of difference; it would still be hard, it would still be awkward.
"So what was it you wanted to talk to us about?" Tre asked, looking up from the sludge coloured carpet with concern locked into his oceanic eyes.
"Well, it's just...it's stuff. Like...you know when we first recorded American Idiot?"
"Yeah," Mike muttered, seeming to guess where this was going.
"Well, it's about that. Well, not that exactly, but about some of the stuff in the album."
"Jimmy?" Mike asked quickly, looking straight at Billie and nowhere else. Billie nodded, feeling the nervousness swooping up and engulfing him once again.
"You mean Jimmy's real? Not just someone you made up like you told us?" Tre looked at Billie, confusion creasing his brow. "Why'd you lie then?"
Billie could tell Tre was trying to joke about this almost, to lighten the atmosphere, but the word lie cut straight through him, because even though they didn't know it he had been lying to them for almost thirteen years. And the atmosphere for this shouldn't be light, he thought to himself. They need to know how serious this is, how hard it is to tell.
"Jimmy's real," Billie admitted, his voice sounding unsteady already. Except from when he wrote the American Idiot album, he hadn't though properly about Jimmy for years and years. Even when he sang the songs he managed to make it seem as though he was singing about someone else, someone else's Jimmy, just like he'd told Mike and Tre. But not the Jimmy.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Tre asked, looking from Mike to Billie. "And why didn't Mike know? You've been friends with Mike since forever."
"No," Billie said softly. "No, I haven't."
"Bill, I'm not trying to sound boring or anything. But dude, I really wish you'd stop with the drugs," your best friend tells you. You look up into his icy blue eyes; you have to look up because even though you're three months older than him he's taller than you.
"You smoke pot," you tell him. "What's the big difference?"
"It's different," he sighs. You look away from him now; you know this one. You can't stand it because he has rational arguments, and worse than that, a look of complete hurt and worry locked away in his face. "This is cocaine Bill. It's serious. Please, please stop it."
"I don't want to," you mutter sullenly. You know he's right, and you know it's not doing you any good in the long run. But you can't block out of your head the way each fix manages to make you feel.
"Billie you had a fucking seizure! You're addicted to it Billie, and you need to stop!" You know what he's saying is right. You know deep down inside that you're addicted, that you can't stop, and even the idea of stopping for a little while seems impossible.
"I can't Mike. I don't want to either. I like it."
"Billie, please. I hate you right now, you know that? You're driving me mad, just... God, where do you even get the shit from?"
"Jimmy," you mutter, knowing he won't know who you're talking about.
No one knows Jimmy.
"Who the hell is Jimmy?"
"I'm not telling you Mike! Stop being so boring! You're driving me insane, just stop it!"
"No!" he shrieks, and the anger in his voice takes you by surprise. You know normally it's you who gets angry, not him. "Look, if you don't stop I don't wanna be friends with you anymore Billie. I've known you since we were ten...that's what, eight years now? But I swear to God if you don't stop I'm never talking to you again." You look at him then, square in the eye. In your eyes he's being completely unreasonable.
"You're meant to be my friend Mikey," you say quietly. "But fuck off then."
"You..." Billie mutters quietly, not looking at Mike at all. "You remember when we were eighteen, and... and we stopped talking?"
"Yeah..." Mike says slowly, looking intently at Billie, clearly wondering what he was talking about. Billie glanced at him and saw that Mike obviously didn't remember that one brief mention of Jimmy. "I met Jimmy then."
"Hey," he muttered. It wasn't what he wanted to say, but his brain froze and reflexes took over. He glanced down at the thin carpet covering the bus, and found himself once again trying to work out exactly what colour it was meant to be under the various stains scattered over it.
"Hey," Tre said, while Mike smiled at him.
"Can I, erm...can I talk to you two, for a second?" he asked slowly, making no move to sit down. "Well, maybe more than a second, but...I just need to..." he found himself unable to complete any of his sentences. To his surprise, at his words Mike and Tre shot alarmed glances at each other.
"Billie..." Mike began.
"We were going to tell you, realy, you don't have to..." Tre said at exactly the same time.
"What?" Billie asked, momentarily forgetting about his plan in light of these new distractions. He mentally ran through every conversation he could remember having with the pair in hope of working out what they were talking about.
"Erm..." Tre stammered, looking helplessly at Mike. He had clearly not bargained on Billie having no idea what he was talking about.
"We...Bill, don't think it's weird or anything, but we...we, erm..." Mike said, stuttering with apparent nerves. Billie looked at his friends, perplexed. It seemed he wasn't the only with secrets after all, although they seemed to be sharing theirs' and his was his very own burden.
"We had sex," Tre blurted out. "We were drunk, and we had sex."
"And..?" Billie asked, sensing there was more to come than that.
"And it happened, again...when we were, well, not drunk," Mike added, determinedly not looking at Billie.
"So..." Billie said slowly as it clicked. "You two are like...a couple?"
"Erm...kinda," Tre said, looking quickly at Mike before looking back at Billie. Mike just looked at Billie, nodding slowly.
"Okay. Cool, I guess," Billie said, not really paying attention again. He was trying to work out whether this information was going to make telling them the truth about...about a lot they were curious about, any easier. He decided that in all honesty it didn't make a lot of difference; it would still be hard, it would still be awkward.
"So what was it you wanted to talk to us about?" Tre asked, looking up from the sludge coloured carpet with concern locked into his oceanic eyes.
"Well, it's just...it's stuff. Like...you know when we first recorded American Idiot?"
"Yeah," Mike muttered, seeming to guess where this was going.
"Well, it's about that. Well, not that exactly, but about some of the stuff in the album."
"Jimmy?" Mike asked quickly, looking straight at Billie and nowhere else. Billie nodded, feeling the nervousness swooping up and engulfing him once again.
"You mean Jimmy's real? Not just someone you made up like you told us?" Tre looked at Billie, confusion creasing his brow. "Why'd you lie then?"
Billie could tell Tre was trying to joke about this almost, to lighten the atmosphere, but the word lie cut straight through him, because even though they didn't know it he had been lying to them for almost thirteen years. And the atmosphere for this shouldn't be light, he thought to himself. They need to know how serious this is, how hard it is to tell.
"Jimmy's real," Billie admitted, his voice sounding unsteady already. Except from when he wrote the American Idiot album, he hadn't though properly about Jimmy for years and years. Even when he sang the songs he managed to make it seem as though he was singing about someone else, someone else's Jimmy, just like he'd told Mike and Tre. But not the Jimmy.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Tre asked, looking from Mike to Billie. "And why didn't Mike know? You've been friends with Mike since forever."
"No," Billie said softly. "No, I haven't."
"Bill, I'm not trying to sound boring or anything. But dude, I really wish you'd stop with the drugs," your best friend tells you. You look up into his icy blue eyes; you have to look up because even though you're three months older than him he's taller than you.
"You smoke pot," you tell him. "What's the big difference?"
"It's different," he sighs. You look away from him now; you know this one. You can't stand it because he has rational arguments, and worse than that, a look of complete hurt and worry locked away in his face. "This is cocaine Bill. It's serious. Please, please stop it."
"I don't want to," you mutter sullenly. You know he's right, and you know it's not doing you any good in the long run. But you can't block out of your head the way each fix manages to make you feel.
"Billie you had a fucking seizure! You're addicted to it Billie, and you need to stop!" You know what he's saying is right. You know deep down inside that you're addicted, that you can't stop, and even the idea of stopping for a little while seems impossible.
"I can't Mike. I don't want to either. I like it."
"Billie, please. I hate you right now, you know that? You're driving me mad, just... God, where do you even get the shit from?"
"Jimmy," you mutter, knowing he won't know who you're talking about.
No one knows Jimmy.
"Who the hell is Jimmy?"
"I'm not telling you Mike! Stop being so boring! You're driving me insane, just stop it!"
"No!" he shrieks, and the anger in his voice takes you by surprise. You know normally it's you who gets angry, not him. "Look, if you don't stop I don't wanna be friends with you anymore Billie. I've known you since we were ten...that's what, eight years now? But I swear to God if you don't stop I'm never talking to you again." You look at him then, square in the eye. In your eyes he's being completely unreasonable.
"You're meant to be my friend Mikey," you say quietly. "But fuck off then."
"You..." Billie mutters quietly, not looking at Mike at all. "You remember when we were eighteen, and... and we stopped talking?"
"Yeah..." Mike says slowly, looking intently at Billie, clearly wondering what he was talking about. Billie glanced at him and saw that Mike obviously didn't remember that one brief mention of Jimmy. "I met Jimmy then."
