A Note Never Came Easy, chapter 5
Waking up the next morning, Billie Joe found himself slumped against the side of a building somewhere outside.
Somewhere he didn't even know.
Rubbing his eyes and staggering to his feet confused, he looked around dazed whilst yawning.
I can't go on like this forever. I can't keep this up. It's killing me.
If he had the choice he would stay like this forever, but he knew that if he did, it would kill him sooner or later. And for the first time in the last couple of days, he thought about Adrienne and the boys without feeling angry at them.
Instead he felt sad, and he hated himself for the way he was treating them.
Adrienne was right. They didn't deserve to be victims of his behaviour.
He felt disgusted, both physically and mentally.
His body ached and all he wanted to do was wash himself clean, hoping all the negative feelings would wash away during the process. Scratching at the side of his mouth and crossing his arms over his chest he stumbled down the boulevard, the sunlight blinding him as his head hurt enough already. Looking up to the sky he sighed, his eyelids still half closed as he continued to cry silently inside.
He was so lost.
And the hard thing was that only he, himself, could make things better.
That was easier said then done.But things had gone too far, and something inside of him told him that he had to change things. Now.
He couldn't change the past, he knew that.
Stef was dead.
But what he could do was change things for the future, and make the pain easier.
He still had the funeral to organise, and how he was going to keep that from Addi was something else he had to figure out.He wanted to go home. He was sick, but he couldn't when there was alcohol still in his system.
That was driving under the influence.
Walking back to the hotel he had run to three nights ago after his fight with Adrienne, he headed towards his Ford Fairlane, which had been parked in the parking lot ever since he had made the drive down from Oakland.
Unlocking the door, he tiredly scrambled into the back. Closing the door behind him, he lay across the seats, curling himself up into a ball and pressing his head against his hands like a baby would do before slowly falling asleep.
*
I felt something crawl up next to me underneath the sheets. I screwed up into a ball to try and get back to sleep, clamping my eyes shut again. Then I felt a hand slip around my waist underneath my T-Shirt.
It was so cold it made me jump.
Wait, a second... Shit! Billie Joe!
I bolted upright in bed and found him lying next to me in the bed.
"Billie Joe!" I screamed.
"What!?" He grumbled, annoyed.
I could smell the alcohol on him. He was drunk and trying to crawl into bed with me. God knows what state of mind he was in. Maybe it was best if I just didn't know.
"You're in my bed!" I screamed again, rubbing my tired eyes.
"Does it look like I care?" He yawned.
"No.... but I do!"
"What's so wrong with it?" He mumbled before falling back to sleep again.
"Oh, forget it." I cried, rolling out of bed.
His hand shot out form under the duvet and grabbed my arm.
"Don't be like this. Come back to sleep. You need it as much as I do." He slurred, still not moving, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah, and why is that?" I cried sarcastically. "Because I have another fucking audition tomorrow that no-one told me about."
"Oh shit... "
"Yeah, it IS shit Billie Joe. Bullshit."
"I'm sorry. I must have forgotten or something." He groaned once again, sitting up from beneath the covers that were nearly covering his head. "I was going to tell you. Honestly I was. I was having such a good time last night, I just seemed to forget about everything else. "
"You forget a lot of things don't you." I whispered sadly, sitting on the edge of the bed, my back turned to him.
"What do you mean by that?" he wondered, frowning constantly from lack of sleep.
"Never mind." I grunted, fed up with his questioning.
"Stef... " He pulled me back down onto the edge of the bed as I tried to walk away again.
"Billie Joe, don't you remember that kiss the other day?"
He looked at me with a blank expression.
"Yeah, sure I do. Do you think I wouldn't?" He softly told me, a loving smile on his face.
"Then why didn't you mention it again after?"
"Was I meant to?" He asked, chewing his tongue.
"Oh, never mind!"
I slowly got up from the edge of the bed against his force and started to walk out into the suite.
"Where are you going?"
"To practice on my guitar."
"Don't." Billie Joe pleaded. "You need to have some sleep."
"Billie Joe, I need to work out another song for the audition tomorrow. I'm so screwed!"
"No you're not." He assured me, lying back down. "If you practice now when you're tired, then yeah, you ARE screwed. Trust me."
Trust him? TRUST HIM?
I wanted to, but I didn't know whether to or not. I slowly walked towards the side of the bed he was in, listening to what he had to say.
"Come back to bed and I'll help you with your audition first thing in the morning."
I hesitated, and then looked straight into his eyes that were bloodshot, just like mine and Tre's. Probably Mike's too.
Behind all the alcohol and confusion, I saw someone who was loving and caring. True to his word.
"Promise?"
"I promise." He whispered, taking my hand in his.
I smiled back tiredly, and bowed my head deep in thought. He dragged me back into bed using my arm and laid me next to him. I turned to face him, to look at his peaceful sleeping face.
I never knew rock stars could look so cute when they were sleeping. An extra bonus I suppose.
I lay there, motionless, watching him sleep peacefully, his chest moving up and down lightly from breathing. But for some reason, I had this burning feeling inside of me that told me something wasn't right.
I felt so awkward. This just didn't feel right, for some reason. It was all wrong. This should be feeling perfect. But it just wasn't. Something was wrong.
What was wrong with me?
"Billie Joe... " I whispered.
"Hmmmm?" He hummed, his eyebrows raising.
"This just feels wrong."
"What does?"
"Us. Together. In the same bed."
"Why is it?"
"It just doesn't feel right. I don't know why. I have a weird feeling that something's going to ... go wrong."
"Like what? What's wrong with sharing the same bed?" He protested.
I wish he would use his brain sometimes.
For Christ sake Billie, I like you, a lot, we are sharing a bed, we are both drunk and could easily take advantage of each other, and not to mention he had a family.
"You have a wife Billie Joe who loves you." I started.
"I know I do. You think I don't know that? What's that got to do with it anyways?" He groaned, his eyes pouring into mine. "But it's not like we're going to do anything is it Stef?"
Now he had asked THE question.
Well Billie, by the sounds of it, you don't want anything to happen, so I guess no, nothing was going to happen.
You know how to make me feel special and wanted don't you?
"No." I replied, disappointed.
Now I knew how he really felt. He had just used me to get to my bed. He didn't want to make anything out of it.
"Right then. Now try and get some sleep."
When he had climbed into the bed, I thought he was drunk and ready to let his pants overtake his mind. That's why I had moved so quickly; thinking about his family and what damage it would do to them.
But now I wish he had fucked me.
Because that would have been better than the loneliness I was feeling right now.
I rolled my eyes, and turned my back to him to get some sleep.
This was weird. Of all the things we COULD be doing in this bed, we laid backs turned to each other, not speaking.
Why did nothing turn out right for me when it came to guys? They were too complicated... especially Billie Joe.
*
The green eyed guitarist woke up later in the day, his eyelids fluttering open and the first thing he saw was the front of the car between the two front seats, staring straight at the gear stick.
Looking up at the tops of his eyes he smacked his lips together to get rid of that weird awful taste you get after sleeping during the day.
Drawing his hand over his face he yawned, stretching a bit before sitting himself up in one of the back seats.
He looked out of the window to see the sky was a musky gray blue, dusk enduring across the city.
He had been asleep for most of the day, a crumpled heap in the back of his car.
Jesus Christ dipshit, you're pathetic, he thought to himself as he yawned once again.
I need something to eat, really badly.
Clumsily he squashed himself through the two front seats and climbed into the left, rubbing his eyes for the last time before he put on his seatbelt and tiredly turned on the ignition. He paused before he pulled away, staring into mid space ahead of him for a while as he thought about the previous night. How he had been chucked out of at least two clubs for his state, cried to a barman about everything, and how he had hit it off with a gay guy in his late 20's at some point because he felt so lost in what to do.
He loved Adrienne with all his heart.
But then he had loved Stef. And he still did, as much as it hurt.
Gripping hold tight of the steering wheel he reversed, driving out of the parking lot and out into the distance. He knew where he was going this time; he just had to make a few stops on the way there.
He was going home. To make things work with Adrienne.
As sad as he felt about it, he had to make it work. Even if he had been treating her and the boys like shit lately, he knew that if he lost them too, then he really would break down and loose all faith. If he lost the people he had left, even if he didn't particularly want to be around them at the moment, he knew that he wouldn't be able to cope.
After about an hours drive, he stopped at a Taco Bell drive through, picking up something to eat himself before parking the car outside and eating it.
He could have sat inside the restaurant bit, but that meant showing his face in public. So he instead decided to sit in the comfy of his own car and eat, where he could take as long as he wanted and not have to worry about anyone walking up to him.
Taking his Americanized Mexican meal out of the paper bag, he placed it on his lap and hungrily, he started to devour it.
He hadn't eaten properly for about 3 days now, and dammit it was good for him to taste food again.
This had been his first proper meal since the day before he had left home.
Spluttering the food a bit here and there, he didn't care. He was hungry, and he had nobody to impress with manners. When he had finished, he felt wholly satisfied and begging for another helping. It made him feel better inside that he had eaten, plus maybe now he wouldn't keep feeling so thin and reckless.
His health had gone down hill ever since Stef had died. He had been smoking a lot more, drinking nearly every day or night, not to mention the lack of sleep and the mental agony he was feeling.
He couldn't find the motivation to keep a good health at this moment in time.
Licking his fingers quickly to clean them of the noodle sauce he had picked up to eat, he took a sip of his drink of Coke through it's straw that he had ordered too. Once he had finished, he shook the Coke cup to see if there was any left to only hear the ice cubes bash around inside. Rolling down his window quickly he chucked it into the bin that was conveniently next to his car, scrunching up the now empty paper bag and throwing that in too.
Rubbing one side of his face tiredly to wake himself up, he leant over the other front seat and rummaged about in the glove compartment to collect in his hand a lighter and a box of cigarettes. Taking one out of the box and lighting it, he slouched in his seat so you couldn't see him at the open window as he took a slow drag. Breathing out smoke he sighed, taking in the sensation of having a cigarette. It seemed to make him feel better temporarily, when really it was making himself worse.
And he knew it, he just couldn't stop.
Resting his eyes for a few minutes as he casually took inhales from his cigarette every so often, he licked his lips in between.
Finishing the cigarette, he threw the dog end out of the window before rolling it up. He sat up in his seat, before zipping his seat belt back on and once again turning his vehicle back onto the boulevard, off to another destination.
* * * * * * * *
It was around 4 in the morning when Billie Joe arrived back home to his house in Oakland. His Ford Fairlane slowly crept down the boulevard and into the drive, plunging the street back into darkness again when he switched off the engine and the lights went out. He threw his head back against the top of the seat, rubbing his eyes as they were starting to strain again from the long drive. Blinking, he took off his seat belt and quietly got out of the car, taking his cell and wallet with him that had been on the dashboard.
He walked up the path to the front door, fumbling with his keys a bit as he gently opened up the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Careful not to wake up Adrienne or the boys, he didn't bother turning on a light. He placed his keys, wallet and cell onto the island that was situated near the front door, taking his shoes off and leaving them there too. His feet padding on the floor, he turned to slowly creep up the stairs, holding onto the banister at first off.
Reaching the top floor, he turned down the hallway and hesitating, he grasped hold of the door handle to Joey's room. Opening it up slowly, he peeked inside and smiled at his son who was peacefully sleeping in his bed, the duvet pushed over the mattress a bit. Closing the door again, a bit happier at seeing his sons, he moved along to the next room.
Looking into the room, he saw Jakob, like Joey, lying in bed in a deep sleep. It made the punk rocker smirk at how the boy was sprawled out, almost falling out of bed and the duvet completely ripped off of him and on the floor.
Tip-toeing into the room, Billie Joe bent down and picked up the duvet, placing it back over his son and putting his limb arm back into bed as it was hanging down to the floor. Standing up, he watched as the boy didn't stir or move greatly, just maybe twitch a little.
He ran his hand over his strawberry blonde hair, looking at his son deep in thought and thinking how lucky he was to still have them all.
Turning around, he left the room and closed the door behind him again.
Staggering a bit as he yawned, he headed down to his and Adrienne's room, sighing deeply before he entered.
Stepping in quietly, he saw his wife tangled amongst the bed sheets, sleeping soundly as the duvet draped over the most of her head. All he could make out was the back of her head and her hair. Biting his bottom lip, he pushed the door so it was almost shut, before he stepped over to the edge of the bed.
With an aching heart he gently lowered himself so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back still turned to him, unknown to her that he was sitting there.
Running one of his hands down the side of his face, he licked his bottom lip, before turning to face Adrienne. Her head gently sat on the pillow, she looked so beautiful that it made him feel worse.
He nodded his head to himself in agreement.
"I'm going to make things better." He told her, swallowing back. "I promise I will. I won't let you go."
He watched as she continued to sleep, oblivious to what he was saying or that he was even sitting beside her. Stretching out his hands that were in his lap, he sighed and crept into the en suite bathroom, closing the door before he turned the light on, and stripping to get into bed.
*
Billie Joe lay next to his sleeping wife, his eyes wide open and resting upon her as he watched her peacefully.
He was so confused, so many thoughts going round his head it was giving him a migraine. Everything had just happened so quickly. He hadn't even had a chance to speak, let alone think properly.
He had betrayed Stef, and he wanted to take a leaf out of her book and harm himself. Just to take away the confusion and sadness he was feeling inside.
Sitting up and rolling out of the bed, he tiptoed into the bathroom suite and locked the door. Turning on the shower and stepping under the freezing cold water he stood there, shivering through and through and letting the water soak his hair and matt across the top half of his face, dangling over his eyes.
Shaking, he reached for the shower gel and squeezed some into his palm, madly scrubbing it across his whole body and digging his nails into his own skin as he did so.
Wishing to wash away all his troubles and sins, he scathed his skin with the gel, digging his fingers into his arms and scratching at himself because he couldn't do anything. He wanted to scrap away all traces of what he had done, to both people. He felt so dirty, for what he had done. He thought he could have coped with it, but obviously not. He was a nervous wreck and he was so torn between the two people he loved the most. Stepping out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his middle, looking into the mirror at his reflection and hating himself right now.
Fucking dipshit. You dipshit. You fucking dispshit Billie Joe. YOU FUCKING DIPSHIT YOU SHITFACE. You dipshit in loving two people. You fucking dispshit. DIPSHIT. What about Stef? Did you ever stop to think about her Billie? Did you, huh? Dipshit. DIPSHIT.
His bottom lip quivered a little as he thought of what the hell to do, because in reality - there was NOTHING he could do. It was too far advanced to cover up or break away from.
And he did love Stef, but Adrienne was his wife.
His soul mate.
But now he was starting to wonder whether Stef was his soul mate.
Or whether he had a soul mate at all.
He was so confused right now, he didn't know what to do.
Covering his face with his hand he crumbled, crouching down and whimpering to himself. How was he going to cope? He loved his wife so much, and yet he seemed to be head over heels in love with Stef. He needed to get out, have some fresh air - clear his head.
Wiping his eyes dry and knowing that he had to sort things outside inside of him, he stood up and splashed his face over with cold water. Reaching up into the cabinet and popping a paracetamol pill, he swallowed it back and ran his hand through his wet disheveled hair.
He opened the bathroom suite door, unlocking it quietly and stepping out of the steam filled room and into their bedroom where his wife still lay sleeping in their bed. Bending down carefully, he picked up his clothes he had let her tear off of him before and tiptoed out of the room. Closing the door behind him he crept down stairs and dressed himself once again before picking up his keys from off of the coffee table. He pocketed his wallet before checking that all electricity was off in his house and leaving through the front door.
*
Standing in the en suite bathroom to his and Adrienne's room, he looked into the mirror at his reflection and sighed deeply. He looked like absolute shit.
Only wearing his boxers, he looked into the palm of his hand and at a pot of sleeping tablets he had purchased earlier on his way home.The rest of his clothes lay in a scrambled heap in the corner from where he had discarded them.
Unscrewing the lid, he poured two into his other hand and popped them into his mouth, taking a glass of water with them.
Shaking off the taste, he turned off the light to the bathroom and went back into his room, placing the pot of pills in his trouser pockets to hide along the way.
Pulling up the duvet, he slipped into bed and snuggled down. He looked at his peaceful sleeping wife, his heart aching as he looked at her with despair.
If only you knew. If only you knew.
He reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she carried on to sleep, before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He then turned round and put his back to her, closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep, knowing that tomorrow was going to be an awkward day.
Somewhere he didn't even know.
Rubbing his eyes and staggering to his feet confused, he looked around dazed whilst yawning.
I can't go on like this forever. I can't keep this up. It's killing me.
If he had the choice he would stay like this forever, but he knew that if he did, it would kill him sooner or later. And for the first time in the last couple of days, he thought about Adrienne and the boys without feeling angry at them.
Instead he felt sad, and he hated himself for the way he was treating them.
Adrienne was right. They didn't deserve to be victims of his behaviour.
He felt disgusted, both physically and mentally.
His body ached and all he wanted to do was wash himself clean, hoping all the negative feelings would wash away during the process. Scratching at the side of his mouth and crossing his arms over his chest he stumbled down the boulevard, the sunlight blinding him as his head hurt enough already. Looking up to the sky he sighed, his eyelids still half closed as he continued to cry silently inside.
He was so lost.
And the hard thing was that only he, himself, could make things better.
That was easier said then done.But things had gone too far, and something inside of him told him that he had to change things. Now.
He couldn't change the past, he knew that.
Stef was dead.
But what he could do was change things for the future, and make the pain easier.
He still had the funeral to organise, and how he was going to keep that from Addi was something else he had to figure out.He wanted to go home. He was sick, but he couldn't when there was alcohol still in his system.
That was driving under the influence.
Walking back to the hotel he had run to three nights ago after his fight with Adrienne, he headed towards his Ford Fairlane, which had been parked in the parking lot ever since he had made the drive down from Oakland.
Unlocking the door, he tiredly scrambled into the back. Closing the door behind him, he lay across the seats, curling himself up into a ball and pressing his head against his hands like a baby would do before slowly falling asleep.
*
I felt something crawl up next to me underneath the sheets. I screwed up into a ball to try and get back to sleep, clamping my eyes shut again. Then I felt a hand slip around my waist underneath my T-Shirt.
It was so cold it made me jump.
Wait, a second... Shit! Billie Joe!
I bolted upright in bed and found him lying next to me in the bed.
"Billie Joe!" I screamed.
"What!?" He grumbled, annoyed.
I could smell the alcohol on him. He was drunk and trying to crawl into bed with me. God knows what state of mind he was in. Maybe it was best if I just didn't know.
"You're in my bed!" I screamed again, rubbing my tired eyes.
"Does it look like I care?" He yawned.
"No.... but I do!"
"What's so wrong with it?" He mumbled before falling back to sleep again.
"Oh, forget it." I cried, rolling out of bed.
His hand shot out form under the duvet and grabbed my arm.
"Don't be like this. Come back to sleep. You need it as much as I do." He slurred, still not moving, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah, and why is that?" I cried sarcastically. "Because I have another fucking audition tomorrow that no-one told me about."
"Oh shit... "
"Yeah, it IS shit Billie Joe. Bullshit."
"I'm sorry. I must have forgotten or something." He groaned once again, sitting up from beneath the covers that were nearly covering his head. "I was going to tell you. Honestly I was. I was having such a good time last night, I just seemed to forget about everything else. "
"You forget a lot of things don't you." I whispered sadly, sitting on the edge of the bed, my back turned to him.
"What do you mean by that?" he wondered, frowning constantly from lack of sleep.
"Never mind." I grunted, fed up with his questioning.
"Stef... " He pulled me back down onto the edge of the bed as I tried to walk away again.
"Billie Joe, don't you remember that kiss the other day?"
He looked at me with a blank expression.
"Yeah, sure I do. Do you think I wouldn't?" He softly told me, a loving smile on his face.
"Then why didn't you mention it again after?"
"Was I meant to?" He asked, chewing his tongue.
"Oh, never mind!"
I slowly got up from the edge of the bed against his force and started to walk out into the suite.
"Where are you going?"
"To practice on my guitar."
"Don't." Billie Joe pleaded. "You need to have some sleep."
"Billie Joe, I need to work out another song for the audition tomorrow. I'm so screwed!"
"No you're not." He assured me, lying back down. "If you practice now when you're tired, then yeah, you ARE screwed. Trust me."
Trust him? TRUST HIM?
I wanted to, but I didn't know whether to or not. I slowly walked towards the side of the bed he was in, listening to what he had to say.
"Come back to bed and I'll help you with your audition first thing in the morning."
I hesitated, and then looked straight into his eyes that were bloodshot, just like mine and Tre's. Probably Mike's too.
Behind all the alcohol and confusion, I saw someone who was loving and caring. True to his word.
"Promise?"
"I promise." He whispered, taking my hand in his.
I smiled back tiredly, and bowed my head deep in thought. He dragged me back into bed using my arm and laid me next to him. I turned to face him, to look at his peaceful sleeping face.
I never knew rock stars could look so cute when they were sleeping. An extra bonus I suppose.
I lay there, motionless, watching him sleep peacefully, his chest moving up and down lightly from breathing. But for some reason, I had this burning feeling inside of me that told me something wasn't right.
I felt so awkward. This just didn't feel right, for some reason. It was all wrong. This should be feeling perfect. But it just wasn't. Something was wrong.
What was wrong with me?
"Billie Joe... " I whispered.
"Hmmmm?" He hummed, his eyebrows raising.
"This just feels wrong."
"What does?"
"Us. Together. In the same bed."
"Why is it?"
"It just doesn't feel right. I don't know why. I have a weird feeling that something's going to ... go wrong."
"Like what? What's wrong with sharing the same bed?" He protested.
I wish he would use his brain sometimes.
For Christ sake Billie, I like you, a lot, we are sharing a bed, we are both drunk and could easily take advantage of each other, and not to mention he had a family.
"You have a wife Billie Joe who loves you." I started.
"I know I do. You think I don't know that? What's that got to do with it anyways?" He groaned, his eyes pouring into mine. "But it's not like we're going to do anything is it Stef?"
Now he had asked THE question.
Well Billie, by the sounds of it, you don't want anything to happen, so I guess no, nothing was going to happen.
You know how to make me feel special and wanted don't you?
"No." I replied, disappointed.
Now I knew how he really felt. He had just used me to get to my bed. He didn't want to make anything out of it.
"Right then. Now try and get some sleep."
When he had climbed into the bed, I thought he was drunk and ready to let his pants overtake his mind. That's why I had moved so quickly; thinking about his family and what damage it would do to them.
But now I wish he had fucked me.
Because that would have been better than the loneliness I was feeling right now.
I rolled my eyes, and turned my back to him to get some sleep.
This was weird. Of all the things we COULD be doing in this bed, we laid backs turned to each other, not speaking.
Why did nothing turn out right for me when it came to guys? They were too complicated... especially Billie Joe.
*
The green eyed guitarist woke up later in the day, his eyelids fluttering open and the first thing he saw was the front of the car between the two front seats, staring straight at the gear stick.
Looking up at the tops of his eyes he smacked his lips together to get rid of that weird awful taste you get after sleeping during the day.
Drawing his hand over his face he yawned, stretching a bit before sitting himself up in one of the back seats.
He looked out of the window to see the sky was a musky gray blue, dusk enduring across the city.
He had been asleep for most of the day, a crumpled heap in the back of his car.
Jesus Christ dipshit, you're pathetic, he thought to himself as he yawned once again.
I need something to eat, really badly.
Clumsily he squashed himself through the two front seats and climbed into the left, rubbing his eyes for the last time before he put on his seatbelt and tiredly turned on the ignition. He paused before he pulled away, staring into mid space ahead of him for a while as he thought about the previous night. How he had been chucked out of at least two clubs for his state, cried to a barman about everything, and how he had hit it off with a gay guy in his late 20's at some point because he felt so lost in what to do.
He loved Adrienne with all his heart.
But then he had loved Stef. And he still did, as much as it hurt.
Gripping hold tight of the steering wheel he reversed, driving out of the parking lot and out into the distance. He knew where he was going this time; he just had to make a few stops on the way there.
He was going home. To make things work with Adrienne.
As sad as he felt about it, he had to make it work. Even if he had been treating her and the boys like shit lately, he knew that if he lost them too, then he really would break down and loose all faith. If he lost the people he had left, even if he didn't particularly want to be around them at the moment, he knew that he wouldn't be able to cope.
After about an hours drive, he stopped at a Taco Bell drive through, picking up something to eat himself before parking the car outside and eating it.
He could have sat inside the restaurant bit, but that meant showing his face in public. So he instead decided to sit in the comfy of his own car and eat, where he could take as long as he wanted and not have to worry about anyone walking up to him.
Taking his Americanized Mexican meal out of the paper bag, he placed it on his lap and hungrily, he started to devour it.
He hadn't eaten properly for about 3 days now, and dammit it was good for him to taste food again.
This had been his first proper meal since the day before he had left home.
Spluttering the food a bit here and there, he didn't care. He was hungry, and he had nobody to impress with manners. When he had finished, he felt wholly satisfied and begging for another helping. It made him feel better inside that he had eaten, plus maybe now he wouldn't keep feeling so thin and reckless.
His health had gone down hill ever since Stef had died. He had been smoking a lot more, drinking nearly every day or night, not to mention the lack of sleep and the mental agony he was feeling.
He couldn't find the motivation to keep a good health at this moment in time.
Licking his fingers quickly to clean them of the noodle sauce he had picked up to eat, he took a sip of his drink of Coke through it's straw that he had ordered too. Once he had finished, he shook the Coke cup to see if there was any left to only hear the ice cubes bash around inside. Rolling down his window quickly he chucked it into the bin that was conveniently next to his car, scrunching up the now empty paper bag and throwing that in too.
Rubbing one side of his face tiredly to wake himself up, he leant over the other front seat and rummaged about in the glove compartment to collect in his hand a lighter and a box of cigarettes. Taking one out of the box and lighting it, he slouched in his seat so you couldn't see him at the open window as he took a slow drag. Breathing out smoke he sighed, taking in the sensation of having a cigarette. It seemed to make him feel better temporarily, when really it was making himself worse.
And he knew it, he just couldn't stop.
Resting his eyes for a few minutes as he casually took inhales from his cigarette every so often, he licked his lips in between.
Finishing the cigarette, he threw the dog end out of the window before rolling it up. He sat up in his seat, before zipping his seat belt back on and once again turning his vehicle back onto the boulevard, off to another destination.
* * * * * * * *
It was around 4 in the morning when Billie Joe arrived back home to his house in Oakland. His Ford Fairlane slowly crept down the boulevard and into the drive, plunging the street back into darkness again when he switched off the engine and the lights went out. He threw his head back against the top of the seat, rubbing his eyes as they were starting to strain again from the long drive. Blinking, he took off his seat belt and quietly got out of the car, taking his cell and wallet with him that had been on the dashboard.
He walked up the path to the front door, fumbling with his keys a bit as he gently opened up the door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Careful not to wake up Adrienne or the boys, he didn't bother turning on a light. He placed his keys, wallet and cell onto the island that was situated near the front door, taking his shoes off and leaving them there too. His feet padding on the floor, he turned to slowly creep up the stairs, holding onto the banister at first off.
Reaching the top floor, he turned down the hallway and hesitating, he grasped hold of the door handle to Joey's room. Opening it up slowly, he peeked inside and smiled at his son who was peacefully sleeping in his bed, the duvet pushed over the mattress a bit. Closing the door again, a bit happier at seeing his sons, he moved along to the next room.
Looking into the room, he saw Jakob, like Joey, lying in bed in a deep sleep. It made the punk rocker smirk at how the boy was sprawled out, almost falling out of bed and the duvet completely ripped off of him and on the floor.
Tip-toeing into the room, Billie Joe bent down and picked up the duvet, placing it back over his son and putting his limb arm back into bed as it was hanging down to the floor. Standing up, he watched as the boy didn't stir or move greatly, just maybe twitch a little.
He ran his hand over his strawberry blonde hair, looking at his son deep in thought and thinking how lucky he was to still have them all.
Turning around, he left the room and closed the door behind him again.
Staggering a bit as he yawned, he headed down to his and Adrienne's room, sighing deeply before he entered.
Stepping in quietly, he saw his wife tangled amongst the bed sheets, sleeping soundly as the duvet draped over the most of her head. All he could make out was the back of her head and her hair. Biting his bottom lip, he pushed the door so it was almost shut, before he stepped over to the edge of the bed.
With an aching heart he gently lowered himself so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back still turned to him, unknown to her that he was sitting there.
Running one of his hands down the side of his face, he licked his bottom lip, before turning to face Adrienne. Her head gently sat on the pillow, she looked so beautiful that it made him feel worse.
He nodded his head to himself in agreement.
"I'm going to make things better." He told her, swallowing back. "I promise I will. I won't let you go."
He watched as she continued to sleep, oblivious to what he was saying or that he was even sitting beside her. Stretching out his hands that were in his lap, he sighed and crept into the en suite bathroom, closing the door before he turned the light on, and stripping to get into bed.
*
Billie Joe lay next to his sleeping wife, his eyes wide open and resting upon her as he watched her peacefully.
He was so confused, so many thoughts going round his head it was giving him a migraine. Everything had just happened so quickly. He hadn't even had a chance to speak, let alone think properly.
He had betrayed Stef, and he wanted to take a leaf out of her book and harm himself. Just to take away the confusion and sadness he was feeling inside.
Sitting up and rolling out of the bed, he tiptoed into the bathroom suite and locked the door. Turning on the shower and stepping under the freezing cold water he stood there, shivering through and through and letting the water soak his hair and matt across the top half of his face, dangling over his eyes.
Shaking, he reached for the shower gel and squeezed some into his palm, madly scrubbing it across his whole body and digging his nails into his own skin as he did so.
Wishing to wash away all his troubles and sins, he scathed his skin with the gel, digging his fingers into his arms and scratching at himself because he couldn't do anything. He wanted to scrap away all traces of what he had done, to both people. He felt so dirty, for what he had done. He thought he could have coped with it, but obviously not. He was a nervous wreck and he was so torn between the two people he loved the most. Stepping out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his middle, looking into the mirror at his reflection and hating himself right now.
Fucking dipshit. You dipshit. You fucking dispshit Billie Joe. YOU FUCKING DIPSHIT YOU SHITFACE. You dipshit in loving two people. You fucking dispshit. DIPSHIT. What about Stef? Did you ever stop to think about her Billie? Did you, huh? Dipshit. DIPSHIT.
His bottom lip quivered a little as he thought of what the hell to do, because in reality - there was NOTHING he could do. It was too far advanced to cover up or break away from.
And he did love Stef, but Adrienne was his wife.
His soul mate.
But now he was starting to wonder whether Stef was his soul mate.
Or whether he had a soul mate at all.
He was so confused right now, he didn't know what to do.
Covering his face with his hand he crumbled, crouching down and whimpering to himself. How was he going to cope? He loved his wife so much, and yet he seemed to be head over heels in love with Stef. He needed to get out, have some fresh air - clear his head.
Wiping his eyes dry and knowing that he had to sort things outside inside of him, he stood up and splashed his face over with cold water. Reaching up into the cabinet and popping a paracetamol pill, he swallowed it back and ran his hand through his wet disheveled hair.
He opened the bathroom suite door, unlocking it quietly and stepping out of the steam filled room and into their bedroom where his wife still lay sleeping in their bed. Bending down carefully, he picked up his clothes he had let her tear off of him before and tiptoed out of the room. Closing the door behind him he crept down stairs and dressed himself once again before picking up his keys from off of the coffee table. He pocketed his wallet before checking that all electricity was off in his house and leaving through the front door.
*
Standing in the en suite bathroom to his and Adrienne's room, he looked into the mirror at his reflection and sighed deeply. He looked like absolute shit.
Only wearing his boxers, he looked into the palm of his hand and at a pot of sleeping tablets he had purchased earlier on his way home.The rest of his clothes lay in a scrambled heap in the corner from where he had discarded them.
Unscrewing the lid, he poured two into his other hand and popped them into his mouth, taking a glass of water with them.
Shaking off the taste, he turned off the light to the bathroom and went back into his room, placing the pot of pills in his trouser pockets to hide along the way.
Pulling up the duvet, he slipped into bed and snuggled down. He looked at his peaceful sleeping wife, his heart aching as he looked at her with despair.
If only you knew. If only you knew.
He reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she carried on to sleep, before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He then turned round and put his back to her, closing his eyes and falling into a deep sleep, knowing that tomorrow was going to be an awkward day.
