Should I Stay Or Should I Go? - A Dirnt Story, chapter 2

"Clear!" the pads were applied again and another jolt brought Mike's long, lithe body into a sharp arc, still the heart monitor carried on in its monotone voice, "Clear!" fighting fire with fire, the medics continued trying to treat a shock victim with electricity. "Clear!" on and on, ten times in all they tried, but still he was flatlining. "Okay, stop, are we all satisfied that we've done all we can?" the team operator murmured, to nods of subdued agreement. "Then who is a man enough to go out there and tell Billie Joe Armstrong himself the news?" Before anyone could volunteer, a small beep broke the silence, then another, and another, settling down into the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. The monitor gave the same evidence. And before anyone questioned this, the dead body laying on the floor began to breathe.

Hours later, Mike began to swim back to the surface of consciousness, he could hear voices around him, two concerned medics quietly fretting over him, and one frontman going quietly insane with worry. The voices were dim, but he could pick out Billie's from them, and as the axeman brushed back one unruly blonde strand from his face, he could smell blood, Billie's blood. His eyes flicked open, and immediately Billie fell on him with joy, "Thank god! You're okay aren't you? How are you feeling? Do you want me to get you anything?" He flung his arms around his friend and hugged the air out of him, before allowing him to reply.

That was the first thing he noticed about him after the accident. His voice had changed. Maybe it was because he no longer slurred, maybe it was the cold quality, but his voice was different as he stated "You've hurt your hand Billie, your left hand, I can smell the blood" dispassionately, staring straight ahead out of bloodshot eyes that held no emotion. Shocked, Billie drew back his hands and examined the left one.
In his panic he had resumed his old habit of nail biting, and the nail of his index finger was nibbled down so far it had bled. "So I have. Never mind that Mike, how are you feeling now?"
"Could we have a little time alone please, just Billie and I," he whispered, closing his eyes in a languorous blink and sitting up on the couch. Obligingly the medics left, and Mike opened his eyes, gazing so intently at Billie that he felt that his friend was looking more through him than at him. "Have you ever wondered what it's like to be dead Billie? it's not so bad really, I quite liked it," he said, his voice sliding over the words as silk would.

Billie drew back, and ran one hand nervously through his tangle of ebony hair, "You weren't dead Mike, just unconscious, and you're acting a little weird now by the way!" he replied.
Ignoring him, his brotherly friend took his hand with a grip that had increased tenfold in strength and was Arctic cold to the touch, sending shivers down the handsome frontman's spine, "You don't understand how liberating death can be Billie, try it," he whispered.
Billie had had enough, he was thoroughly frightened and didn't know what was going on, "I dunno what they gave you back then Mike, but I'm gonna leave you to sleep it off, you need to get some rest right this minute!" he backed away from his friend in fear, feeling the cold, vacant eyes bore into him.

As he left, he knew that Mike was still staring at the back of his head, and he heard him breathe harshly; "Watch your step Billie..................."