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It was September 21st, 2012, the night before Green Day's Infamous IHeartRadio performance. The band all lay in their own designated hotel rooms, most of them asleep as it was late into the night. But some band members were awake. Billie Joe grabbed hold of the doorknob, twisting it slowly and opening Mike's door with a single finger, slumped against the door frame, a beer in his other hand. The dim light from the hotel hallway leaked into his friend’s dark room, illuminating Mike's figure, sitting on the edge of his bed. Mike whipped his head around at the source of the noise, quickly grabbing his sheets and covering his lap.
“Hey!- uh, Billie? What…what the hell are you doing here?” he sputtered quickly.
Billie let out a chuckle, stumbling into the room, clumsily shutting the door behind him with his foot. Mike pulled the string of a nearby lamp, and the room was soon lit with a soft orange hue.
“Ya rubbin’ one out?” Billie slurred, a smirk plastered across his face as he walked over to the foot of the bed. He was drunk, Mike could tell. It wasn’t just the beer in his hand or the strong alcohol scent radiating off of him that told him this. It was Billie's half-lidded eyes and slurred speech that showed Mike that his childhood friend was all fucked up. Mike sighed.
“Yeah, can a guy get some privacy?” he rolled his eyes.
Billie raised the bottle to his lips and gulped the remaining content down, spilling beer down his chin before dropping it to the floor with a sharp thud. Mike flinched and stared up at Billie, feeling very much vulnerable, knowing the only thing covering his body was a thin bedsheet.
“What’s the matter? I’ve seen ya naked before, Mikey,” Billie cooed, tilted his head, and got closer to his friend until his hips rested against Mike’s knees. Mike leaned back at the feeling of Billie's alcohol scented breath intertwining with his, creating some small distance between the two. He felt his face getting hot. Billie reached down and ran his fingers through Mike’s scalp, flicking his wrist and stopping his hand at the base of his neck, gripping his long hair. Billie pulled Mike’s head back, leaning down until his breath was hot against his lips. He slowly closed the distance.
Billie was aggressive, sloppy, but a damn good kisser. Before Mike could protest, he found himself kissing back. Mike couldn’t tell if it was instinct or if he really desired his best friend. He honestly couldn’t think too hard about it at the moment. Billie picked up the pace, hungrily kissing his best friend, running both hands through his blonde hair, only pausing to lift himself up into a straddling position against Mike’s hips. Mike found himself getting harder than he was before Billie showed up, and this embarrassed him.
“Billie…we can’t-“
“Shh…” Billie interrupted, pushing his finger against Mike’s lips as he cocked his head to the side. He guided his thumb down across his lips until Mike’s mouth was agape, leaning in to slide his tongue inside. He groaned into the embrace, grinding against Mike’s bare genitals, earning himself a moan in response. Billie pulled away once he lost his breath, bucking his hips against the man underneath him. Mike sighed.
“Oh, what the hell..” Mike moved part of the sheet separating the two until he was exposed. Billie smirked, undoing his own belt on cue.
Once Billie had his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs, he was just as aroused as Mike. He spat in his hand and, without hesitation, slowly wrapped his palm around both of their erections. Mike let out a soft groan, keeping steady eye contact with Billie’s languid green eyes. Billie gently began pumping his hand up and down, creating sweet friction against their hot skin. Mike’s breath hitched. He broke eye contact with Billie, squinting and lolling his head backwards as a hand came up to suppress any further lewd sounds from escaping his lips.
“Fuck…” Mike breathed.
Billie picked up the pace, being very articulate with his hands. He thumbed their slits and stroked their shafts, gently rubbing a vein occasionally. Mike couldn’t help but feel like he was reaching his limit so soon. Getting himself off earlier was good, sure. But feeling Billie’s sweet caress, hearing his whines and groans? It was almost too much. Billie let his other hand wander and glide up Mike's bicep. He traced his tattoos and squeezed the tense muscles until he reached his traps, then his neck. Billie cupped Mike’s jaw before pulling him in for another sweet, sloppy kiss. Mike could taste the alcohol again and the slight undertones of cigarettes. A guilt twinged in the back of his mind. Was he taking advantage of Billie? Did he really want to do this, or was he just drunk out of his mind? The thought vanished when he felt Billie swipe over the tip of his prick once more. He moaned into Billie's mouth, which reacted by tangling their tongues together. Billie’s hand only moved faster, which caused the black haired man to groan and grind into Mike. Mike was desperate to hear more from Billie, and he didn’t want to ruin the magic by finishing so soon. He gently guided his friend’s hand away from the heat of their erections. He shuffled away from Billie's straddling position, leaving Billie sitting with his pants half down on the edge of the bed. Before Billie could protest, he decided to get on his knees to show he wasn’t eager to ditch him. Mike pulled his friend's pants down to his ankles; the whole time, his mind was racing.
He was mostly questioning himself about what the fuck he was doing. He and Billie Joe had never fooled around to this extent before. Sure, they'd had a few makeout sessions in the past that definitely carried tension, or their on-stage antics that included kissing and dirty talk. But they were never brought up in conversation after the fact. Mike just assumed they didn’t mean as much to Billie as they did to him. Or maybe Billie was too embarrassed to address any of it. That prodded Mike's mind, but he was also nervous about his lack of experience with sucking dick. Sure, he has thought about what it would be like to be the one giving instead of receiving, but to go through with it? On his best friend? He must be out of his mind.
Mike gripped Billie’s thigh, pulling himself closer until he was basically eye to eye with his dick. He looked up at his friend. Billie had an expectant, sly smirk plastered on his face, like he couldn't believe Mike was willing to do something like this. Mike knew Billie was expecting him to fail, and it just fueled his confidence even further. He wrapped a hand around the base, collecting saliva in his mouth before letting it drip slowly onto Billie’s head, mixing with his precum. Mike blinked a few times before closing his eyes and lowering himself onto his erection. Billie let out a choppy and breathy moan, leaning his head back and bringing his hands up to uncoordinatedly grip Mike’s hair. Mike tasted bitter saltiness on his tongue, and soon the back of his throat as he reached the hilt. Mike gagged slightly, getting used to the feeling. Billie moaned at the clench, tugging harder at blonde locks. Mike moved slowly upwards, focusing a bit too hard on making sure only his tongue was making contact, no teeth. He was only going based on what had usually felt good to him in the past. As Mike reached the tip, Billie grunted. Mike swirled his tongue before bobbing back down. Billie gasped, his groans and moans coming in like waves.
“Oh god…oh man..” Billie slurred, his head hung back, all Mike could see was the outline of his adam's apple protruding from his neck, vibrating with each groan and curse he spoke. At this point, Mike could feel his neglected length throbbing in anticipation and arousal. Mike's other hand wandered down to his hard-on, wrapping around it and stroking immediately, already sensing his release coming soon. Billie’s legs began to squirm, his breathing becoming erratic and heavy.
“Mike…Mike, I’m so…close.” Billie whined, breathy and barely above a whisper. Mike tried his best to go faster, appreciating all Billie's sweet spots with more urgency, all while making sure he was getting close too. The noises Billie made, mixed with the feeling of his hand pushing him over the edge, caused Mike's release. He groaned onto Billie’s length, causing a sweet vibration. Soon after Billie came, spurting ropes of his DNA into the back of Mike's throat. After Billie's orgasm rode out, Mike pulled his lips away, spitting whatever was left in his mouth into the empty beer bottle Billie had dropped onto the floor earlier.
Billie lay his back down on the bed, his legs hanging off. He stayed there, catching his breath while Mike got up to get tissues from his nightstand, cleaning himself off before putting his pair of sweats that were on the floor back on his body. He walked over to Billie, nudging the tissue box against his cheek. Billie gripped it with little strength, and cleaned himself off while Mike sat on the other end of the bed. He checked his phone, the bright light causing him to squint as he read the time, which said it was already past midnight. Mike sighed before setting an alarm on his phone for the next morning at 5am. He looked up from the screen as he heard footsteps and saw Billie approaching from his peripheral vision.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Mikey.” Billie leaned down slightly to plant a soft kiss on his lips that lingered for a few seconds. Mike didn't have the reaction time to kiss back. He was caught off guard, much like he was when Billie had first entered his room, to which he was now leaving. The door clicked, and suddenly Mike felt lonely. But also exhausted. He really didn’t want to think much about what had just happened. At least not too deeply. He brushed his teeth and threw the bottle with Billie's jizz in it away before climbing into the bed that he swore he could smell Billie on. Beer and musky cologne. Mike reached over and pulled the string on his lamp, watching the room fall into pitch blackness. He closed his eyes to sleep, but all he could think about was Billie moaning his name.
Over 24 hours later.
The band members all scattered into their separate hotel rooms immediately after enduring a painfully long, silent ride from the venue the night before. By this point, it was clear that the trajectory of the band was impacted by the situation that went down at the festival. Reporters had already scrambled to write articles with straight-up insulting headlines. Mike could hardly sleep the previous night, much like the one before. And yet again, the subject keeping him up was none other than Billie Joe. Mike now lay upright in his bed, watching the sun rise through his mostly shut curtains. Mike hadn’t spoken to Billie last night. He was too upset to even get any words out. Not that Billie would even remember them. But now, as Mike had time to sort through the ways he would express his feelings to his friend, he felt a bit more confident in knowing that whatever he wanted to say, he just needed to say it. Did Mike feel guilty for not doing more to intervene with Billie’s irresponsible habits the night before? Or even his alcohol and assumed drug abuse issues in general? Hell yes. But it wasn’t Mike’s job to constantly babysit a grown man. Especially one that doesn’t like to listen to criticism. Mike picked up his phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 7am. If he wanted to say something, it had to be now. Before everyone else woke up to pack up and board their flight home. Before Billie could hide from everyone. Mike got up and stretched his sore muscles. He stared at the foot of the bed where he and Billie had gotten intimate two nights ago. His heart ached with a feeling of loss. He didn’t understand why, but he didn’t want to search for an answer within his mind either. He picked up a T-shirt that was strewn across the floor and pulled it over his head, walking out of his room soon after. He crossed the hall quietly, knocking on Billie's door carefully. He didn’t get an answer at first, until he knocked the second time and the door swung open a second later. Billie was standing in front of him, looking like shit. Mike could tell he definitely felt like shit, too. Despite this, Billie had such a sad, guilty look on his face that Mike hadn’t been too familiar with, even after knowing him for 30 years. It looked like Billie was ready for Mike to yell at him, punch him even.
“Billie, we need to talk,” Mike said bluntly. It came out harsher than intended.
Billie just nodded. He moved aside to let Mike in, then shut the door. He just stood there after that.
“Listen, Billie. You’re scaring the shit out of me. This man you’ve become over the past couple of years? It’s not the Billie I know.”
“Mike, I know. Mike, I'm so sorry. Look, last night was-“
“Last night was a joke. Last night was a fucking joke, Billie! I mean, this better have been your fucking wake-up call. You need help. Professional help.” Mike yelled. He watched the way Billie flinched and clutched his head. He almost felt bad, but he was getting himself all worked up.
“I am! I am god damnit, I’m going into rehab as soon as we get back home. Our manager already made arrangements; I have no other choice.” Billie shouted, volume decreasing to a whisper as he finished.
Mike paused. Nodding as he processed the information.
“Good. That’s good…but you need to be willing to get better and stay that way, Billie, because…the future of this band depends on it. The future of us depends on it.” Mike felt the words slip out and become all the more real as he heard them echo out of his lips. He saw Billie’s eyes well up and broke eye contact. His head shook before he crumpled. Mike assumed he had been made aware already of everything that went down last night, but he assumed Billie was crying over more than just that. It was all pent up.
“Look, Bill…” Mike felt the urge to comfort his friend, but he was too pissed off to falter. Billie had been jeopardizing the band by being irresponsible for way too long.
“I think…I think I should go.” Mike said, sighing.
“No, no no, Mike, please…” Billie quickly sputtered.
Mike just sighed again, shaking his head in silence.
“Mike, I’m sorry. Please, I’ll work things out…Things will work out, just trust me, I-I’ll get better and I’ll be back in time for our tour, just please don’t do anything rash, Mike…”
The pair sat in silence as Mike chose his words carefully.
“Billie, I…I am not giving up on this band. I would never. I’m here to make sure that you won’t. Billie, you don’t need to just get “better”; you need to get sober. Completely. No more drinking your damn weight in alcohol before performing at every fucking show, and taking god knows how many pills when you think nobody's looking. Cause Billie, we all know you don’t use them how they are prescribed.”
Billie just stood in front of Mike, staring blankly, but tears silently falling from his eyes.
“Being drunk and high all the time makes you do stupid shit, Billie. Like two nights ago? Were you ever gonna talk to me about that? Huh?” Mike's voice rose.
“Or do you just not remember?”
Billie nodded his head slowly.
“I remember.” He sighed and hid his face in his hands. “And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Do you regret it?” Mike questioned, coming off petty.
“No! No, I-“ Billie rushed to clarify, but hesitated for an explanation.
Mike just stood, waiting. Silence filled the room. The only audible noises were the pair's breathing.
“I don’t. I wouldn’t regret anything if it were done with you. I just…I regret putting you in that situation.” Billie's hands slid up his face and into his hair, fisting at it in frustration.
“Oh god, Mike, I…I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before putting everyone in this situation,” Mike muttered, or at least intended to, forgetting that the silence in the room only echoed his words. Billie winced, but he didn’t respond. His chest was heaving, and his face was nothing but a mess.
“Do you think I wanted any of this shit to happen? I’m trying, Mike, I…obviously not hard enough, but everything's been weighing on me so hard and…” Billie rambled.
“Trying doesn’t mean shit if you just…” Mike couldn’t finish his sentence. He’s said enough; he just hoped Billie would take him seriously this time.
“I’m gonna go, Bill. I need you to get better for me. For everyone.” He turned and walked towards the door. The image of Billie's emotionless face, stained with tears, burned into his mind.
Turning the knob, Mike heard Billie's voice. Weak, quiet, but determined.
“For what it’s worth, Mike. What happened two nights ago meant a lot to me.”
Mike paused, just for a second. His head was shaking ever so slightly. He pulled the door back and stepped out, turning to face his friend one last time.
“Get clean, Bill.”
Billie didn’t answer. He just watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him like the end of a song that had never really finished. Mike’s footsteps faded down the hall, each one hitting like a nail being driven in.
When the silence settled, Billie just stood there, staring at the door Mike shut on him, shoulders trembling. His breath hitched, too fast, too shallow, until he realized he was choking on it. He backed up until his shoulders hit cold wood. He slid down the wall, head falling into his hands. His chest ached, his throat burned, He could still hear Mike's voice echoing, sharp and furious, seething and reprimanding. Billie wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream, to throw something. But all that came out was a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.
He reached blindly for the half-empty bottle of pills on the counter next to him, his hand hovering before pulling away like it might burn him.
“Get clean,” He whispered to himself, mocking the words. “Yeah, easier said than done.”
The sunlight leaking from his curtains at this angle hurt his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots. The memories from the past forty-eight hours looped like a film reel in his mind. The dark hotel room, his hands on Mike’s skin, the rush of something too dangerous to name. Last night, the booze, the thrill, the chaos, the sound of his own voice cracking through the mic. He honestly couldn’t remember much of that performance. It scared him.
He had lost control both nights. One way that could have ruined his band's future. His life. The other, well, he felt like he may have ruined something sacred to him. His friendship with Mike.
Billie dragged himself up, knocking the bottles of pills onto the floor in agitation. He didn’t want to see them right now. He walked over and shut his curtains entirely. The room was fading into a melancholy darkness. He stumbled over into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. Looking up at the mirror, his reflection looked like hell. Dark circles framing teary red bloodshot eyes. He barely recognized the man staring back at him.
“Who the fuck even are you?” He muttered.