Blackout

Hi there. =)
This is a story that takes place in 1994. A girl named Skylar blackouts at a GD show, and ends up falling in love with Billie Joe. Sounds stupid, maybe, but I wanted to try something else, haha.
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Chapter 01 - Faint Girl

The place was crowded, but I had an amazing spot. The vibrant orange GA wristband was fastened loosly on my wrist, along with some anxious sweat that resided there and everywhere else on my body. The show hadn't started yet, but the place was packed and all of the body heat was making me nasceous. I had jerks on every side of me that didn't care that they stepped on my feet or jabbed me with their elbow, but I shouldn't have expected an apology; I was at a Green Day show - people were too drunk with excitment to be pleasent.

The setup looked awesome: lights, pyro, fireworks. I knew it was going to be loud and totally crazy, and I was pumped for the unescapable insanity.

As I waited for the trio to take the stage, I listened in to the conversations the fellow fans were having. Four guys behind me that looked to be in their mid-20's chatted about the band's equipment, as if they knew everything about it.

"See that thing that's hangin' down off the top?" One of the guys questioned. "It sorta looks like a penis. That's the pyro, dude."

"Awesome," The other commented. He pointed to some basses that were to the right, slightly behind the stage. "Dirnt's shit looks pretty sweet. The man has some rad gear."

I tuned them out and listened to the conversation that took place between two girls in front of me.

"It's just weird, you know? I've loved them for so many years, and now I get to see them live," The one informed the other. "When 39/Smooth came out, I was obsessed."

The other chick nodded. "Yeah. I got hooked after Kerplunk! It just blows 'cause all these kids here are only fans 'cause of Dookie. Longview is a great song, but people are oblivious to anything beforehand."

People to the left of me were talking about what a great deal they got on the tickets, and how they saved so much, they bought more just to scalp before the show began. All in all, the diologue these humans were participating in was boring and over-done. Nobody discussed how lucky they were to see the band, or how much they genuienly love them. Maybe nobody was lucky - I mean, how is paying 20 bucks for a punk band lucky? It isn't for them, but, to me, it's a fantasy that came true.

Before I could analyze anything else, the whole place went black and erupted into yelps of joy. I tried to cover my ears, but I nearly hit some guy in the face, so I stopped because I wasn't feeling decent enough to apologize if I did jab him. I have a level of decency, unlike a level of tolerance; I wish that was vice versa.

I saw Mike first when the three of them walked out. I then saw Tre and Billie Joe, but couldn't get the best view because I had become the fillings of a tiny, smushed sandwhich. I was pressed between a buff GI-Joe looking dude, and a short blonde Baywatch looking babe that was probably a groupie and devoted to getting in bed with one of the three. I shouldn't assume things like that, I know, but everyone thinks shit like that, and I decide to voice it. Sue me if it doesn't consolate with your moral standards.

Anyway, the band went right into playing 'Burnout', one of my favorites that I hadn't heard in what seems like a lifetime. The last time I heard it was probably when I was living with an old boyfriend, Rob, in El Sobrante. He got me into Green Day, but he fell out of them when they got big. "When they signed their names on that fuckin' form, they signed away their past," he had said. He believed in the idea of 'selling out', when I didn't. I mean, yeah, bands sell out stadiums and shit, but who the hell cares? Are hardcore punk fanatics going to whip out a barometer of some sort and measure which band has sold out the most? No, and if that ever does happened, that'll be the day music dies.

'Longview' then came, followed by 'One For the Razorbacks,' and then 'Going to Pasalacqua.' They alternated from Dookie, to Kerplunk!, to 39/Smooth throughout the whole show. They mostly played Dookie stuff, but that's only because the album came out last week and was an MTV success. Most of the 'fans' here had heard Basket Case on MTV and figured it was cool since it was on there, so people bought tickets and came to the show just to see what all the fuss and hoopla was about. I bet more than half of the ding-dongs here are MTV-obsessers; jocks and cheerleaders who are terrified of the minority of users, wack-jobs and fuck-ups in the building.

Nevertheless, I rocked the fuck out.

My eyes were burning and my ears were ringing due to the crank I snorted before I snuck my way in here, but I rode it out. I was flying high with a shit-faced grin plastered on my thin lips as the colorful lights began to loose their remarkable luster. My vision soon became totally black and white, but I could still hear Green Day and the assholes that were jabbing me and stepping on my feet crystally.

Before I knew it, the white disappeared and I was left with nothing but the coal black color (or lack of color.) I closed my eyes, and opened them, but there was no change. I squeezed them shut tight and re-opened them for a second time, but recent deja vu washed over me. I felt firm palms push at my svelte back, and I fell into either a valumbtiuos woman or a moobed dude, because my hand graced an impressive ta-ta. I pulled away, and I fell into a strong, buff guy to my right.

My visibility had gone to the dogs, and I was trapped inches away from a mosh pit. Not good.

I felt sweat everywhere: arms, chest, legs, face, neck, and it was dripping like a leaky faucet. I was extremley overheated, and I felt like the world had been tossed in a massive blender and was spinning me beyond a measurable degree.

Suddenly, the heat became a refreshing carress of cool. The velocity of the alarming, yet satisfying change caused me to feel much better and energized to party with people I despised.

"Help her up!" I heard a clear female voice order urgently.

I felt pairs of arms tugging me upwards. I realized then that I had felt the rush of cold because I had fallen onto the almost frigid concrete floor, and, at that moment, all I wanted to do was bawl.

I had blacked out.

I knew it was because I was dehydrated and starved because I haven't had money to splurge on the basic essentials of food and water, but it was mainly because I was crankin' so hard. The meth was the cherry on top to my faint, and dozens of dipshits just witnessed a druggie being effected by a bittersweet cause.

An exclusion to the regular dipshits surrounding me was Billie Joe, who had aparently witnessed my faint as well. "Hey! Hey you!" I heard him yell into the microphone with startiling clarity. "Faint Girl!" he labeled me as people around me cheered for some reason. "Get me Faint Girl!" Billie ordered someone into the mic.

The someone was a bouncer because I felt sturdy biceps take ahold of my underweight body and pull me onto something that felt slightly different underneath my size 10 feet. I assumed it was the stage, and I was right. I had a mini panic attack knowing 20,000 people were staring at my pathetic body; my underweight figure, droopy eyes, skeletal appearance, dirty hair and face, and ratty clothes.

I felt a slender arm around my waist, followed by another one on my right shoulder. I guessed it was Billie Joe, so since both hands were on me, he must have put his microphone down, which meant he hadn't pulled me on stage and wasn't studying me for public reason. He wasn't mocking me or subjecting me to disgrace purposely, even though I felt like a load of shit next to him.

"Are you okay?" he yelled into my ear, trying to talk over the thousands of cries.

I felt fearful tears in my eyes as I swiftly shook my head horizontally. "I..I can't see."

"You can't see?"

I just nodded. I was unable to see his reaction or his movements, so I was frightened by whatever he might be doing. He was either concerned, or annoyed, and I was praying he had found a stable middle-ground between the two. I didn't want concern because I was deprived of human empathy, and I was afraid of how awkward I would behave if he actually cared enough to act in a concerned, sympathetic and proactive way. On the other hand, I don't want him to be annoyed with me. I was sick of being the ugly duckling - the one people were disgusted to care for. I didn't want to be a nuisance; a pest that interrupted him from his concert. He was the one who pulled me up, though, so...maybe I'm just thinking too much. Usually, teachers and authority figures can't get me to think enough, but when I'm stressed due to being temporarily blind on stage in front of 20,000, arm-in-arm with the only guy I feel remotley close to in the world, my mind can't stop racing.

"Hold on a sec, guys," Billie told the crowd after I felt one of his arms leave my body. I fell forward slightly, not used to not being held by his tattooed arm, but he caught me and held me tight. The crowd boo'ed and groaned loudly at the sight of Billie leaving the stage, which is what I assumed my feet were straining to pull me to. I stopped thinking as Billie told me, "I'm taking you backstage. I'm sure I can find someone who can help you out. Okay?"

I made a weird whimper/whine/moan/grunt sound, that meant I agreed. The inertia of my thoughts stopping short caused me to have a sharp pain in the corner of my swiss cheese looking brain. I tried ignoring it, but I couldn't focus on anything else except for the warmth of Billie Joe and my lack of eyesight.

The black in my vision turned to a dark gray, and I realized I was beginning to see light vaguley. I felt myself get gently placed on some comfortable sofa in a less rowdy room. It was quieter, but I could still hear chants and yelps from the stage that must've been not too far away.

"Hey? Are you there?" I heard Billie's voice question.

"Uh-huh," I managed to choke.

"Mike and Tre's girlfriend's aren't here tonight, and I am unconvienatly and unfortunatly single. The tech guys are occupied, so nobody can hang around here with you," he explained. I felt something cool touch my forhead. "I grabbed a few ice cubes. It's the best I can do for you right now. I put some water in a cup," he said as he placed a stirofoam cup in my shakey hands. "Theres a table to your left if you want to put it down."

"...Thanks."

I was stunned at how caring he was being. It was scaring me, yet comforting me at the same time. I wanted to hug him, kiss him, hold him, thank him. It's upsetting that I don't even know him, but he's the most considerate person I've ever come across in my life.

"I'm sure someone will be able to stumble in here sometime before our set's over," Billie Joe continued. "I told them you were here. I'll come in afterwards, but I need to get out there before people throw shit at Tre and Mike, if they haven't already."

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't have the strength to.

"What's your name, by the way?" he asked me.

The light was suddenly blinding, and I blinked, trying to fix the balance between the brightness and contrast. When I opened my blue eyes, I saw Billie staring down at me intently. His dyed blonde hair was slightly shaggy and his emerald eyes made me want to bite my lip. I apparently had good blood flow, because I felt my cheeks turn a rosey red when he smiled just a bit at me.

"Do you have a name, or shall I just call you Fainty?" he inquired.

I smiled back weakly at his eyes, smile, and wonderful facial structure. I swallowed a little and let out a sharp, uneven breath before saying, "Skylar, but I like Fainty."

His smile widened.

I was out cold a second later.

"because my hand graced an impressive ta-ta"

lmfao that made me laugh so hard!

Great story Sarah! Can't wait for more!

Bahaha! I laughed too, and I was like, "i MUST put that in there!" ;D
Thanks! Here's moreeeeee.

Chapter 2 - Kryptonite

Icepack, icepack, icepack - where art thou? Of course I can't recall where the roadie had placed it when I'm dying to have it plastered against my throbbing forehead. If my head wasn't aching like it was, I'd be able to spot the fucker a mile away, but, no! When my head is exploding from the inside out, I can't find anything close to a comfort for the agony. No icepack, pain killer, or a funky herbel treatment was in walking distance, but it's not like I could pick my ass off the sofa to walk over and grab it. I guess I'm going to have to suffer until some unlucky homosapien walks into this room, because, when they do, I'm going to be the bitch barking orders at them while they invision stabbing me to death just to shut this whiner up.

My head was killing me, and my body was pretty sore, but, other than that, I felt a-OK. I scared myself when it happened because I knew crank was involved, and I was seriously afraid I was dying somehow. I've used that demon for well over a year, and I've heard stories from TV, dealers, and old friends that meth eats you from the inside out. You may be flying high and feeling sexy, but you keel over and die a second later.

I'm aware that crank is dangerous - that's why I started using it. I grew up with strict parents that only wanted a perfect GPA from me - happiness was second in importance. I used it to find the daredevil in me, and, when I did, I scared myself shitless. I realized how evil I was and how capable I was of performing self-destruction, but I was too deep in the spell of the drug that I couldn't return to safe, sweet, and reliable Skylar that everyone anticipated. I was trapped in a whole other part of me that I just came in contact with recently, and that was terrifying.

I blacked out at the Green Day show yesterday. I must've fallen asleep after Billie Joe kindly escorted me backstage because some tech dude shook me awake, asking me what the hell I was doing. He must've thought I was some drunk band slut (apparently, he didn't get Billie's message when he informed people I was in the room) and he tried to get me out of the fucking place. Billie pulled a Superman and saved the day by telling the guy what happened, and I remember listening to his words and watching his expressions.

I only know the guy through his songs (which is a lot in a poetic sense, but not a lot in any other) and when he saved me from being crushed, and showed me his compassion in such a simple way, it enlightened me. I've been down in the dumps latley, and the simplicity of his kindness made my heart spasm and my pulse beat to the point where I thought I was going to kick the bucket. I haven't been exposed to such niceness ever, so the fact that he stopped the massive show for little 'ol me makes me want to grin, cry, and blush all at once.

Billie seems like a perfect guy - much like Superman. I found myself wondering what his Kryptonite must be when a heard a door open.

I was too lazy and sore to lift my head, but I saw Mike approach me and sit down across from me on an uncomfortable looking chair. "How are you feeling, Skylar?" he asked me.

This was so odd, but it felt so right at the same time. I mean, what trio of punk dudes helps out a chick like me 'cause she passed out at your concert? It's uncomprehencable, but it's easily understood also. You see, I've talked to all three of them since yesterday, and I've realized that they are the nicest people on the fucking planet. I thought kindness died out with 80's hair metal, but, apparently, the guys in Green Day are still rocking the sweet thing.

"Skylar?"

"I'm good," I said, recognizing that I went into a random thought without answering the talented bassist. "Still weak, and my head aches, but I feel better than yesterday - thanks for asking. Um, do you mind getting me an icepack? A guy brought one in earlier, and I don't know where the fuck it is."

"No problem," he unselfishly responded. He got up and soon found it lying on a nearby table before handing it to me. I thanked him, and he replied with, "Don't mention it."

Mike was very short and simple; definetly not as maternal acting as Billie was, but Mike was still being very nurturing. Billie was almost overboard (but in a much appreciated way) whereas Mike was much more subtle and almost robotic. He was sweet, kind, and he made me laugh yesterday when I thought a few seconds beforehand that I had slipped into some form of total sadness. He was a gentle cure, whereas Billie was straight-forward and much more defiant.

Tre was the last member I met, but definetly the most memorable. He made a lasting impression by 'accidentally' stumbling in the room half undressed, and it was the half below the equator, not above. He pretended to be embaressed and frantic, even managing to blush a bit as I cracked up laughing. I think he did it just for a giggle, and I'm thankful for that as well. My laugh box was getting rusty, but Tre revived it yesterday in a perverse, weird, but hilarious way.

Mike and I chatted about how I felt, the fact that I was still in the same backstage room as yesterday because they are playing 2 shows back-to-back at the arena, the newest record, and what I was going to do.

"So, you're sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Mike questioned again. "We don't have the time to take you there, but we could always call an ambulance."

"I'm sure; I'll be fine," I comforted. "Like I said, I'm feeling better. I should be out of your hair by the time you guys pack up to leave."

"You aren't a nuisance at all, Skylar, if you're worried about that," Mike said. "I think it's cool. I mean, the fact that you blacked out isn't cool, but the fact that Billie got you outta the pit is."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm glad the bottom of a Nike shoe isn't imprinted on my face."

Mike chuckeled, and I smiled at his laugh. We were silent for a few moments before he said, "Tre's pretty fond of you, as you could probably tell." I laughed again, my cheeks beginning to hurt from this foreign emotion called 'happiness.' "Billie is too," Mike added.

I kept that smile internal. Billie Joe is fond of me? I'll keep that, thank you; nobody is robbing me of such a thing.

I know I probably sound ridiculous, but he just uplifted me (literally, and metaphorically) when he pulled me up on stage and saved me from stomp-age. Like I said before, I've never been involved in an act of such kindness before. It's like a stray, lonely, and hurt kitten getting taken in by a little old lady that washes it, feeds it, loves it, and grows old with it. ...Okay, maybe it isn't that extreme, but that's how it seems to me.

"How is he fond of me, though?" I inquired. "I only spoke to him that one time when he brought me here. I've talked to you plenty, and Tre has his strange reasons, but Billie just spoke to me for a minute or two."

Mike shrugged. "He didn't say he was, but it's obvious. He's been back to check on you, and everytime Tre or I tell him we were back to see you, he asks us how you are, and it isn't just common curtosy - he's genuinly concerned. That's just how Billie is, though. He's a nice guy, and puts others before himself. If any other singer saw a girl down in a pit, they might watch and make sure she's okay, but they wouldn't stop in the middle of a song to personally step in and abete like he did. I don't know - it's just his nature."

I was feeling warm inside after Mike explained. I was still pondering the Superman thing, and I figured it wouldn't be any trouble to ask Mike about it.

"What the hell is his Kryptonite?"

Mike laughed, and shrugged again. "I'm not saying Bill's perfect because he's far from it. He's a nice guy and all, but he's got skeletons just like the rest of us."

I found myself wondering about some things. I wondered how many he has, and if their dusty or slightly recent like mine. I wondered if he has the skeletons trapped in a musty old closet that he locked and threw away the key to like I did. I wondered how bad his secrets are, and if they are remotley close to the degree of severity mine are. I wondered if he would want to swap tales of our traumas someday; maybe over a silly movie and a bag of Cheetos.

Or maybe he puts his secrets out there, and Mike was just humbeling his friend for the sake of the powerful word 'perfection.' Maybe he was afraid if I got to know Billie, and was assuming he was as perfect as whoever runs the universe would allow, I would be dissapointed when I discovered a tiny flaw or lack of total finesse.

Or maybe I'm just being an idiot over all of this.

Who am I kidding? Mike was right, and I was an idiot for doubting his explanation of Billie's imperfections. I just met the guy in a whirlwind moment - of course he'll seem perfect if he saves me from being stampeded by crazy Green Day fanatics. It's a 'duh' thing, but I'm just being naive due to hormones and a cranked brain. Maybe when I get an uninterrupted rest, I'll go back to being realistic instead of optimistic and disgustingly gullible.

In the end, though, I know nobody's perfect, but Billie sure is damn close in my bloodshot and dialated eyes.

^ Amazing chapter, Sarah!
Can't wait for more! =)

Chapter 3 - The Offer

"You want me to come on the road with you?"

The concept seemed completely far-fetched and unreasonable. I found myself wondering if it was April Fools Day or if Billie was a total trickster, but the look of honesty and truism in those infallible, flawless eyes made me find myself weak in the knees with knowledge that those beautiful orbs taught me.

He just nodded casually, like the idea was nothing new to him, and maybe it wasn't. Who knows - maybe he always plays hero and saves a cranked bitch from a mosh everyday and later invites her on a 10 month tour for no back boned reason at all.

I was so flustered, I could barely verbalize my words. "W-w-why?" I spat unorderly.

Billie just shrugged. "Well, why not? Besides, what could it hurt? If you have a job or some shit, whatever, you can do whatever you want - I'm not forcin' you or anything. I just thought that you would be interested."

I winced a little, scared over this unexpected fork in the road I was weirdly presented with. This situation was so unheard of, so uncalled for, that my stomach started doing aerials and I felt my throat try to collapse.

I would be eternally grateful to go on the road and spend 10 months with my favorite band, but...the thought of it just terrified me. There was no reason why I couldn't; I mean, I had no job, no home, no nothing. There wasn't anything that was holding me back except for the awkwardness and suddenness of the whole thing, and, being the person I am, I knew I had to decline his insane, yet amazing offer.

"So, what's the verdict, Fainty?" he questioned lightly. "Yep or nope?"

"I would love to, but I'm going to have to say 'nope'," I informed slowly.

Billie's eyebrows narrowed. "Why?"

I just sighed. "It just seems strange. I mean, I love the fact that you offered something like that and are so considerate of me, but...you hardly know me. I would be taking up room on the bus that could be used for a friend, relative, or something. It just doesn't seem right to me, so, thanks, but no thanks, Billie. But...seriously - thank you for being so kind. Not just because of this offer, but for how you took care of me, the moment after I fainted and the few days after, you, Mike, and Tre were like angels, and I am extremely thankful."

Billie Joe stared at me for a few seconds, and unidentifiable expression on his pleasant face. A grin quickly appeared on his lips, and he said, "Wow, you are fuckin' brilliant."

It was my eyebrows turn to narrow. "How so? I mean, I know that I'm fuckin' great, but, please specify."

His grin widened at my arrogant sarcasm. "I was hoping that you would decline," he stated. "Now I know that I made the right call to fuck up a song to save your ass."

I couldn't help but laugh, even though I was confused over this whole discussion. "What? If I was some obsessive teenie-bopper that drooled over you and had a life-size version of you that I slept with every night religiously, you wouldn't have gotten your hands dirty and saved me from ending up like Mufasa?"

"Basically, yeah," Billie said, the both of us smiling at this strange, humerus conversation, even though this offer was still hanging over our heads. "You rattled off those disturbing rituals pretty quickly there, Sky. You sure you don't participate in them?"

"Only on Monday's and Friday's," I joked, a chill racing up and down my crooked spine when he shortened my name playfully. He laughed heartily, and I found myself queezy with foreign wonder.

"Well, I know you declined, but, since I'm a clever bastard, I wasn't being completely serious with you," Billie admitted. "That was just a test. Now that I know you aren't some crazy lunatic, I'm going to be honest with you."

"Honesty is a nice character trait, yes," I told him. "And I would appreciate if you told me what the hell you're thinking so I can stop racking my injured brain."

He smiled before saying,"Well, I honestly want you to come out on the road with us."

That was surprising. I thought the whole offer thing was him lying and kidding around, but apparently not, so I was caught off guard again, speechless also, and still so utterly confused as to why he was offering me such a thing.

"But why, Billie?" I desperately questioned.

He just shrugged again. "I'm fond of you, I guess." My heart fluttered as I recalled the dialogue Mike and I participated in yesterday. As if Billie knew my thoughts, he said, "Mike told me about what you guy's talked about. Mike's a smart guy, and I firmly believe that he can fuckin' read minds. He could tell that you liked us and shit, so I figured I could pull a nice guy thing and invite you along for the rest of the tour."

I tried so hard to not let an embarrassed blush suffice on my stupid cheeks. I had a slight fury towards Mike and his big mouth, but Billie was his close friend, and he probably found it harmless telling him about our conversation. I just hate the fact that Billie knows that I think he's just about perfect, when I don't know shit about him, really.

"So, what? Because you are fond of me, and I like you guys, you're going to invite me on tour with you, even though we are basically strangers?" I inquired.

Billie thought for a moment. His thoughtful expression was the definition of adorable, and I couldn't help but develop a slight smile as I tried to think of what his thoughts of all of this were.

"Yep, that sounds about right," he finally said.

I just sighed, but knew I had to agree. I realized Billie was stubborn and, if he wanted something, he was going to fight for it, and he apparently wanted me to come with him on tour, and I was in no mood to put up a sore armed fight.

"Okay, then," I told him.

Short, I know.
The next chapter will be very epic, though! :]

Oooooooh! LOL
I love it! The dialouge is written really well!
I WANT MORE! xD

Chapter 4 - Lost in a Moment

I cannot believe this is happening. Then again, I can't believe in the idea of gravity when I'm high, so the fact that I'm sleeping with Billie Joe ranks in at the same degree of disbelief as simple laws of physics.

Yes - I'm sleeping with Billie Joe. I'm cranked while sleeping with Billie Joe. I thought I used the last of my meth before I snuck into the Green Day show, but I apparently still had enough to fly hard tucked away in my bag. I used it earlier today, but the effects of the bittersweet monster were still causing my perception to be flawed and my brain to feel like Jello.

Billie was stuck on the same boat as me. He was flying on acid, pot, beer, and whatever else the man uses, so he was pretty disoriented as well. Since we were both soaring in the stoned skies, playful banter ensued pretty quickly before the actual sex occurred.

"Where do you get these ideas?" I questioned him. "You know, sleeping with fans."

"Movies...TV," he answered. "But don't write me off as some man-whore, Fainty. This is my first time sleeping with a fan...it sounds weird calling you that, though. You've become a friend, not a fan."

"Why, thank you," I said giddily. "I'm so pleased with myself that I upgraded."

He just smiled at me, and I had to smile back. I figured having conversations with a guy I felt like I already knew through songs would be awkward, since I knew him in a way, and he didn't know shit about me, but I was wrong. I've been on tour with Green Day for only 4 days, and I met them all a week ago, but I feel like the 3 of them are friends I never knew. And, now, I'm sleeping with one of those friends, and it's pure bliss, as expected.

I don't want to sound silly, and I am aware how much I gush about Billie's looks, but I cannot help myself. In pictures and videos, he looks average, possibly slightly above, but he's angelic in person. He's especially gorgeous when his slender body is resting on top of mine, and his lips are gracing the 'oh, fuck yeah' spot on my neck. I just cannot resist using sweeping metaphors to explain his handsomeness, and, if people find my words annoying, ridiculous, and hormonal, then they never saw Billie inches away from their face, loving them. I'm a lucky duck to be one of those people, and the moment is beyond right.

"I'm 17, you know," I suddenly said, hoping he was aware that I was under-aged. I then began regretting that because of a fear that it would turn him off and we'd both ending up taking cold showers since the sex didn't happen.

"Great. I'm only a bit older than you," was his response.

"You're 22, Billie," I informed, unless he either forgot his age or hoped I didn't know.

He just grinned. "Who says?"

"Wikipedia," I answered, and he got a kick out of that.

The kissing continued; no 'messing around' or intercourse, and I wasn't sure I wanted either to happen, at least, not at this moment. I was much more than content with the feeling of his breath against my skin, my hands on his body, his on mine, and the taste of his perfect lips. The infallibility of the moment drowned me with ecstasy, and I didn't want anything else but the feeling I was experiencing.

"A dominatrix outfit would complete this," I whispered to him playfully.

Billie smiled. "Darn, I don't have one. I'll get one sometime soon."

"And use it on someone else? How insensitive."

"Who says we won't sleep together again?" he inquired, eyebrows raised giddily.

"Society," I quickly answered.

"Extrapolate, please," Billie happily said.

I sighed as I stared into those killer green eyes. "You're a stoned rock star. I'm a stoned skank. This is a one night stand," I analyzed.

"That's depressing and overly pessimistic, Fainty," he commented.

"Well, how do you see our future playing out?" I asked, with all seriousness, honestly curious.

"I see sex, sex, more sex, good times, and hopefully some sex in there too."

"You're an idiot," I responded, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm aware. I'm also aware of the fact that I like you," Billie said.

"You just met me," I reminded, but my heart wouldn't stop fluttering like a butterfly's wing.

"Like, not love, Skylar," he insisted.

"Well, why don't you extrapolate this time. Tell me about the philosophy of 'like'," I encouraged.

"When a man meets a woman, they-"

"I'm not a kid you're explaining sex to," I interrupted.

"Fine...I like you because..you're witty. And smart, and funny. And did I say beautiful? Yeah, that too. And you fainted at my show in the middle of a mosh pit. I'm sorry, but that makes me like you unconditionally. You fuckin' fainted."

The flutters became seizures as my heart spasmed beyond a reasonable degree. "What?" I managed to choke. "You feel guilty, so you want to be...involved with me?"

The playfulness left Billie's face, and it was replaced with an expression of pure ponder. "No," he eventually said. "I just...well, sure, a little, I guess. I felt bad that it happened and that you got hurt. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you were pretty, witty, smart, and funny, and...I didn't want to let you go."

I think my heart just died from happiness.

I gently, yet urgently grabbed ahold of his freshly dyed black hair and pushed his lips onto mine. I opened my mouth as quickly as possible, and his tongue was down my throat before I had the chance to beg for it. A tongue tango began, each one's tongue fighting for dominance, and I happily won. The mouth dance went on for quite some time, even though it felt like a split second, but I was getting antsy and my feminine V was pleading for some company. Disgusting? Sorry. I'm just being honest right now, and I honestly need some sex before my goddamn vagina explodes.

As if Billie knew my burning desire, the kiss grew more intense and ended abruptly thanks to Billie pulling away; his lips transferring from my mouth to my neck. I couldn't help but release a slight moan, already pleasured beyond belief. His lips caressed me as they traveled down my body, shivers running ramped down my tingling spinal cord. I smiled to myself when I realized this humble irony: this indescribable pleasure is making me dizzy - I might possibly blackout again. I doubt it, but, by the way my head was spinning, it seemed highly probable.

His body slipped into the curves and cracks of mine perfectly, which made me daydream about fate. As Billie's kisses descended lower and lower down my trembling body, I pondered what our future could actually contain, other than sex. I'm not even sure that that's in our future - we might not even have a future! As far as I know, our future is extending for this 10 month tour. That's how long I will be with Billie, Mike, and Tre, and who the hell knows what all could occur in those 10 months? I'm anxious, but excited, and fate is making me question if this is my destiny or something. It may sound stupid, but things like this never happen to me (ever and I cannot stress that enough) so I can only accept it was fate, since I'm not a big believer of luck.

My daydream was interrupted by the cold that rushed through my veins when Billie's warm lips left my pulsing hip. I eased him upwards, wanting his face in front of mine once again, and he put up no fight, as if he wanted the same thing. The beauty of this dysfunctionality was the fact that we were both comfortable with each other for reasons unknown, but for some reason, apparently, or we wouldn't be loving each other like this. If we felt a small connection, Billie wouldn't be staring into my crystal blue eyes with his emerald ones, glaring at me with such powerful intensity and beating romance. If I felt nothing but respect for Billie and no attraction, love, or lust, I wouldn't be easing him into myself like I began to after I let these intrusive and distracting thoughts leave my tired, yet thirsty mind.

I haven't slept with anyone since Rob, and we only had sex a few times. There was no love there - just lust, and usually, hormones mixed with fury. I was either in the mood, but infuriated with him for his antics and bad habits, but so horny, I had to sleep with him, and the same goes with him. I pissed him off so much (for reasons I'm still oblivious to) but he still screwed me like we were newlyweds on an envious honeymoon. So, when I began making love to Billie Joe, I realized that I never "made love" before. Sex isn't always love, people. You can share an intimate moment with anyone, but you don't realize just how special and blissful it is until you do it with someone you actually care for. I'm not saying I hated Robert, but, near the end, things got so bad between us, that I honestly had a desire to ring his fat neck and bury him alive. Demented, yes, I know, but the man fucked my life up worse than I thought imaginable, so I have the right to wish him to hell.

Billie, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. I've known the man for one week, and I think I've fallen in love with him. I love his wit, charm, kindness, loyalty, talent, empathy, and charisma more than I love life itself, at this point. I love how he holds me like he's afraid I'll fly away and disappear without saying good-bye. I love how he isn't considering me a groupie, but as a friend; a person he could see as a potential close friend. I'm someone he actually wants to spend time with, make love to, and hold tightly, yet gently, and all of this makes me want to blackout again - this time, from a zenith of happiness, and not crank.

The thrusts were easy - gentle. Loving. I've never been held in such a way; so caring, loving, considerate, and sex was never this caressing before either. I wanted to drown in a river of affection, but I had to concentrate on Billie; afraid I was going to give a sucky performance. I figured he wouldn't care (I wouldn't have cared if he was lackluster either), but as a self-assurance, I wanted to be good for him. I didn't want to disappoint him, and to have him possibly regret getting invovled with a girl he barely knew. I don't know if me being bad in bed would make him recognize everything, but the pessimist in me doubts everything, so I couldn't help myself. I should start trying, though, huh?

When I came back to my senses and out of my thoughts, I realized my insides were warm with Billie Joe. I realized I was either sweating, or his sweat was rubbing off on my sticky skin - perhaps both. I realized that my muscles were contracting and I was painfully close to a climax; I hoped Billie was too because I didn't know if I could hang on much longer.

I attached my lips to his neck as his fingers graced my cheek with utter finesse. My teeth accidentally knicked his soft spot due to the velocity of our passion, but he didn't seem to mind. The whole thing was going by so quickly that my brain was just a fixture of jumbled thoughts; photographs of snippets of what I could see of my current lover would remain in my subconscious forever, hopefully to be joined by other precious memories of him in the near future. Even if this was the only moment I could share with Billie, it wouldn't matter. This was everything to me. It's not because I was sleeping with him, but because I was finally close to someone. I never felt this feeling before, and Billie was allowing me to embrace it effortlessly. That's why this moment in time is so special; why this moment will be the happiest moment of my tumultuous life.

I couldn't hang on any longer, and I didn't want to. I wanted to let go of myself and drown in a blissful orgasm with a man who pulled me out of the blue and into the blinding white in less than a week. Billie let go just seconds afterwords, and I was excited about laying with him in sheets of sweat, listening to his heartbeat and watching his chest rise and fall, measuring his life by the very minute. I don't understand why I feel so attached to him - maybe fate is playing it's part in screwing with my hormones and emotions, but I just don't care, and I hope he doesn't either.

Chapter 4 - Lost in a Moment
Part 2 (Chapter was too long; had to post in two's)

Billie flipped off of me easily, and I fell into his tattooed, sturdy arms. Sweat stringed every strand of my hair, and I knew I probably smelled of drugs, sex, BO, and happiness, and Billie smelled exactly the same. The smell usually disgusted me, but the aroma was actually sweet...calming, and I wanted to drown in it.

We laid in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before my mind started wandering and coming up with dilemmas that I just couldn't ignore. It was quietly driving me mad, so I knew I had to ask Billie Joe to get it off my chest.

"You don't find this strange?" I breathlessly inquired to him.

"Find what strange?" he softly asked, his voice low, curious, and flowing.

"The fact that we slept together," I told him.

"Why would that be strange?" Billie questioned. He paused, before quickly asking, "Do you have weird fetishes or like to participate in funky positions or something?"

I cracked a smile, which turned to a wide grin when I fully digested his insane query. "No, but...we barely know each other. It's strange."

"Skylar, I'm flying so hard on acid right now. I'm hearing colors and seeing sounds - not much is strange to me right now."

"I see you are quoting lyrics from your songs. Trying to subliminally interest me in your music even more?" I asked humorously.

I felt Billie smile in the still darkness."No. I was just trying to distract you from your original thought. It worked too, huh?" I sighed, and Billie questioned, ""What do you want me to do, Sky? Pour out my childhood and adolescent life? Tell you the story of what the 22 years of my life have been like?"

"Yes."

Billie now sighed. "Well, why? You could just fuckin' Google me. My whole damn life is up on the world wide web. Your life, however, is a closed book, and I'm extremely curious to know the Skylar before the infamous faint."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Not a very good argument, Billie."

"I'm supposed to tell you all about myself, but you won't even tell me shit about you?" he questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him.

I sighed again, unsure of how to word things. "Fine...What's there to tell? Uh...well, my name is Skylar Kalie Yates. My parents thought they were being clever and witiful when they named me that because my initials are SKY, which is what they always called me. I never liked it when it came out of their mouths, but I quite like when it comes out of yours. I was born in San Diego and lived their until I was 10. We moved to Oakland, but I moved out of the house when I got emancipated a few days after my 15th birthday. I lived in a shitty apartment until I met Rob, who was my first and only boyfriend. Things escalated, and I ended up moving in with him and his perverse roommate, Dean, in El Sobrante. Rob and I broke up last year, I moved back to Berkeley, got a job at Taco Bell, lost the job, along with my apartment, cat, and everything else."

"Where do you live now?" was his first question.

I bit my lip, uncertain what I should tell and what I should keep hidden. Eventually, I subtly said "Currently, I live in a Green Day tour bus."

"...You don't have a home, Skylar?"

I laid there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, I just shook my head horizontally.

"Why?" he asked, worry drenching his beautiful voice.

I exhaled unevenly, my breath shortening by the uncomfortableness the conversation was instantaneously gaining. "...I don't feel like telling you that right now."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Not a very good argument, Sky."

"I don't want to talk about it, Billie! Okay?" I snapped, suddenly loathing the man that just made wonderful love to me.

It fell silent again for a while until Billie whispered, "Why did you emancipate yourself?"

I felt familiar tears in my eyes."Because I hate my parents."

"Why?" he asked for the millionth time.

"Because I just do!" I quipped at him again.

"Hey, you're the one that wanted to do this. Don't get snappy at me when I did nothing wrong," Billie ordered, becoming either annoyed or frustrated.

Suddenly, I wanted to bawl my eyes out. The crank was washing out of my bloodstream, diminishing my high, and this discussion was depressing me beyond belief."You're asking all the wrong questions," I informed him.

"No, I'm asking all the right questions; all of the important questions, and you aren't happy with them because they're uncomfortable," he quickly rejected.

Silence fell over us once more.

Eventually, I spoke. "I got emancipated because my mom and dad..."

"...Abused you? Ignored you?" Billie guessed.

I figured I had to tell him, so I let it pour out of my mouth as quickly as humanly possible."No, they just...expected too much from me..and I couldn't handle that. I have a phobia of disappointment, I guess. I have an older brother who does shit for the government, and an older sister who is a medical assistant, but I don't have the potential to make a goddamn taco right. They got on my case, and I got sick of it. Yeah, Dad was a heavy drinker, and I was his punching bag occasionally, and my Mom battled Bipolar Disorder for years, but we weren't the definition of a dysfunctional family, you know? We did normal family things and we were still civil to each other. Things were good...and I still left."

Quiet.

"When will you tell me why you don't have a home?" he finally asked.

I blinked, tears splashing onto my face. Billie somehow knew, even though we were laying in pitch darkness. "Hey? Don't cry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's OK, I'll shut up now," Billie tried; he tried so hard to make me better, but he failed.

"...I don't have a home because," I started, took in a deep breath, and finished with,"Because I have an addiction to methamphetamine. I never sold it, but I used it like crazy, so I wasn't getting any income with it. I lost my job because I didn't pass the random drug test they ordered, and I got put in jail for a few months, along with 2 years probation. I lost my apartment and everything in it because I couldn't pay the tenant. I hit the street with crank and the clothes on my back. Sounds cliche, pathetic, and made-up, but that's what happened."

Silence. The comfortableness had ditched it, and now it was soaked with awkwardness. I felt like a disappointment, and I hated that. I wanted to curl up into a ball and stay that way forever. This night had become so sullen, so depressing, that my black heart couldn't take much more of it.

"I'm sorry," Billie Joe finally said.

My eyes narrowed, becoming infuriated. "Why say that!? You know that none of the screw ups in my life are your fault! I screwed up by using crank before your show and blacked out. You helped me, you didn't hurt me!"

"That's why you blacked out?" Billie questioned quickly.

I just nodded, confessing everything on a whim.

"Skylar, I should take you to the hospital. Something could be majorly wrong," was his response.

Suddenly, my heart was lifted by his undying concern for my well-being. "I'm fine, Billie. I was just cranked up, dehydrated, and overheated. That combination made me blackout. The crank's out of my system, I'm well hydrated, and I'm pretty damn comfortable right now. No need to get doctors involved."

I decided to leave out the fact that I used a lot of it before we made love. Billie knew I was on something, though, but he either didn't question it or didn't catch on to what I informed him of.

"Fine," he eventually breathed. "You just...scared me."

I smiled, my heart fluttering once again. "I'm sorry," I said. "And I actually mean that - I'm not just being courteous like you."

Billie laughed, and it made me fly straight back up into the white. "Hey! What's wrong with courtesy, Faint Girl?"

I laughed, leaned over, and kissed him hard, yet softly, feeling his passion and body heat. I fell asleep in his arms in the cozy tour bus bed, hearing his soft breaths and steady heartbeat.

Those sounds were way fuckin' better than counting sheep.

Fucking amazing Sarah!

Awwwwwwww!!!!!
I LOVE THIS CHAPTER! =D
Write more, woman! I want to read what happens next!

LOLOLOL.
Thanks! I'll post chapter 5...someday. Lmfao, jk.

Chapter 5 - Brain Dead

Touring with Green Day is amazing. Not only do I get to spend 10 months with 3 amazing guys, but I get to go all around the US, and, next month, we'll be heading to Europe. I've never even left California before, and I'm standing here in New York, gazing at the Statue of Liberty with wide, daring eyes.

"Pretty awesome, huh?" Tre asked me as he stood to my right, admiring the statue as well. "We've been here a million times, but I still think this big copper chick is neat."

I grinned. "Yeah. I've only seen it on TV and postcards, but never in person. It's massive."

"Just like your feet," Billie chimed in, cracking a joke about my obnoxiously big feet.

I turned to him, my eyelids thin with pretend anger. "Me and my size 10 feet do not appreciate your humor, Mr. Armstrong."

"You wear size 10!?" Tre inquired, astonished.

"Yeah. If I had a dick, it'd be huge," I answered.

"Lookout for Big Foot," Mike warned.

"Big Dick," Tre corrected.

"Your new nickname!" Billie cried excitidly.

"I thought my nickname was Faint Girl?" I asked.

Tre wondered for a moment before trying, "...Faint Dick Girl...Big Dick Girl who Fainted...Girl who Fainted on a Big Dick..."

"Stop," I told him, laughing. "You're going to strain yourself with your rapid thoughts."

"Hey, my rapid thoughts make me the man I am," Tre said.

I smiled, but didn't have a chance to throw something witty at him because Billie carefully pulled me to the side, a decently good distance away from Mike and Tre. My heart raced, wondering what he wanted to say or do, and I swallowed hard for he still has this strange presence over me; I wanted to drown in him - still, and it's been 3 weeks since we slept together (for the first time - it's happened 3 times in all) and 4 weeks since he heroically saved me from a deadly mosh pit.

I just blinked as he said, "I've been thinking...," but drifted.

I nodded slowly. "I hope so. Thinking is a good, productive thing to do."

He smiled. "Really? What about all those vegetative state people? They don't think."

"Yes. Because they don't think, their brain dies. Hence why they become brain dead."

"OK, Ms. Neurologist," Billie said.

"It's common knowledge," I muttered, still smiling widely.

He stared at me, his eyes flashing with compassion. "Yeah, it is. It's also common knowledge that there's something going on between us."

My heart started seizing once again. I swallowed hard again before asking, "Obviously. With the sex and everything. But what may it be, detective?"

"I have no fuckin' clue," he admitted. "But, I feel something when I'm with you, and I quite enjoy it, actually."

I smiled, showing all of my teeth, probably. "I agree with you," I said before slyly adding, "For once."

Billie smiled. "What? Because of last night?" I nodded, and he shook his head. "I cannot believe that you think Return of the Jeidi is better than Empire Strikes Back. That makes no sense at all!"

"Oh, yes it does!" I argued. "Jeidi has the fuckin' Jabba the Hutt fight scene with fuckin' Boba Fett! That makes the movie for me, except for when they have to kill him."

"Empire takes place in Hoth, Sky!" Billie fought. "Luke kills that goddamn...whatever it is! And slices that...thing open with his Light Saber and crawls in the nasty thing. And that happens in the first ten minutes! What happens in the first ten minutes of Jeidi?"

"Han gets out of that carbonite chamber," I informed.

"Yawn!"

I laughed hardly, extremley amused. "You must be on something," I said.

"Nope, I've been clean since Monday, actually," he responded. The humor left his face as he seriously, lowly asked, "What about you?" I bit my lip, and Billie automatically accused, "You're still using? I thought you said you wanted to give it up, that it wasn't worth it."

"I'm not on anything, Billie, jeez. You can't make asumptions like that," I said. "I just...I don't like the topic - it makes me uncomfortable."

"Deal with it."

I sighed. "You're real pleasant today." He just looked at me - his expression tired, worried, but still considerate. I exhaled again, and said, "I used the last of what I had the night we...you know."

"Have you been in any pain?" he asked, transforming from a detective to a doctor.

"Of course," I said. "Headaches, muscle aches - the whole shi-bang. I've been taking Aspirin, so I can suffer through-"

"How much Aspirin?"

My eyebrows narrowed once more, slightly offended. "What? Because I used crank, you assume I'll abuse over-the-counter meds?"

"I don't know what to think, Sky," he tried.

I felt hurt by his words, but I should've known this was coming. I just nodded, becoming angrier by the second. "Because we don't know each other that well, right? That's why, right? I told you I was unsure about coming with you, and," I lowered my voice when I continued with,"...Sleeping with you, because we hardly knew each other."

"Well, you didn't have to agree to come out," Billie said, spreading the blame around. "You could have declined."

"No, I couldn't have!"

"Why? No one had a gun to your head."

I sighed shakily, feeling pathetic for almost crying right there. I inhaled slowly, trying to regain some composure. Finally, I hissed, "I couldn't decline because of...h-how much I like you. Even then, I did, and you and I are just going to have to accept the fact that my emotions are as screwy as your thought processes."

"Why? Because I assume the worst?" I nodded, and he said, "It's called being a pessimist." I huffed, truly angry with someone I had onced considered perfect, but he sighed and tried, "Look, I'm sorry. You're right: we do hardly know each other. I've know you for, what - a month? That's not a long time, and I'm sorry I have to be an ass about it. I don't know how any of this is going to play out, but I do know one thing."

"And what's that?"

"That I don't regret asking you to come out with us."

I huffed again, but felt the anger diminished slightly. Billie knew how to infuriate me, but then he knew exactly what to say to make me fall in love with him all over again. Some people may say that it's manipulation, but Billie is a genuine good soul, and he wouldn't do that to anyone. It's simply just a combination of him not watching what he says, me over-reacting over everything, and Billie knowing how to apologize perfectly. It makes for terrible arguments, but for great words of love.

Before I could tell him that I should have understood his assumption, their tour manager told us that we needed to head to Time's Square and get ready for the show tonight. It was a sold out concert, and I was probably more excited for it than anybody. Seeing the guys play for such a compact crowd was almost as amazing as being in the compact crowd.

All the anger I felt towards Billie had left, even though his assumption did sort of bring me down. As if he knew, when we were walking towards the bus, he took my hand in his and said, "I'm sorry."

I looked at him sadly, and quietly told him, "I know."

***

Time's Square is massive, and, as the fellow Green Day fans piled in through the doors, I began feeling nervous for my recently new friends. Everyone finally settled in - all 45,000 of so - and I peeked at the people from behind the stage curtain. I tried to study each and every face in the front row, and each was incredibly differernt from the next. Mainly, teenagers, possibly some 20-something's, but mostly teens and adolescents. Still, teenagers are complex, varied, and difficult people, and are quite exciting to understand. I was just staring at these people and I felt some kind of connection to all of them somehow, and I felt content with that.

After I pulled my neck back from the other side of the curtain, I recognized that as one of my many flaws. I just look at people and feel close to them, which isn't how things should work. Like when I met Billie: I felt like I knew him through his songs, when I actually knew squat about him. Then, upon knowing him for just a few days, I agree to come out on a long tour, which is just like moving in with him, Mike, and Tre. It's like living with people that are basically strangers, but still feeling attracted and interested in them, so it isn't totally weird.

But, still. I knew Billie for one week and I slept with him. Why? I'm not sure. Probably because we both had mind altering substances blazing through our systems, but, I still knew what I was doing. I knew I shouldn't have done it, but I felt so attracted to him - physically, emotionally, and mentally - that I wouldn't allow myself to see everything that was wrong with even the thought of making love to him.

I'm not sure I regret my actions, though. I mean, Billie and I do get along well, and I consider myself to be in love with him, but I'm not certain of his thoughts. He said that he liked me, and seemed adament about feeling something for me, but the idea of him being as in love with me as I am with him would be absurd, at least, in my opinion. I might think this way because of how I still think Billie is close to perfection (I hate that I do, but I can't help my ideals,) and I'm nowhere near infallibilty.

Perhaps he likes that, though; maybe he likes people with flaws and demons. People that have stories and tales to tell, but you won't want the kids around 'cause the shit they know and have gone through is rated R. I don't know, but I think Billie is interested in me, and I'm interested to know why. It's flattering because nobody in my life ever had a keen interest in me, and now, Billie Joe Armstrong does. I almost don't know what to do with myself.

I checked a nearby clock and looked around, trying to find Billie, Mike, or Tre. I walked to my right, and finally found Mike. "10 minutes 'til showtime?" I asked.

He nodded as he absent-mindedly jammed a bass line on his instrument. "It's the second time we've played here, but I feel the same way I did the first time."

"And what feeling is that?"

"I feel like I'm going to shit myself."

I laughed, and Tre chirped, "If you'e got the explosives, don't stand by me. I don't want liquid dung on my cymbols."

"You guys are disgusting," I informed.

I looked over to my left and saw Billie also jamming on his blue stratocaster, warming up. "Our album's name is 'Dookie,' and you're learning that we're disgusting just now?"

I laughed again, unable to hold in a chuckle at anything either one of them said. The 10 minutes sadly, yet gladly flew by, and the three of them were ready to take the stage. Mike and Tre ran out; I was only able to tell because I heard an eruption of applause. I didn't see them run out because I was too occupied staring into Billie's emerald, dreamy eyes, as he talked to me quietly and quickly.

"Sorry about earlier," he apologized again.

I was flustered. "Billie, get out there!"

He flashed a grin, and I couldn't help but smile back. I felt idiotic, but, I honestly didn't care anymore. I drowned in him everyday, and if I looked like a moron when I felt this way, then I really don't give a fuck.

While my thoughts were consuming my head, I felt Billie's lips against mine for a quick second. A swift kiss and a smile exchange later, he ran out on the stage of Madison Square Garden, yelling at people to "get the fuck up!"

And I just laughed as I watched my favorite band who had become quick best friends rock the biggest arena in the nation.

Brilliant! Can't wait for the next update.