Homecoming
Shot One
A doorknob turned and a exhausted man stumbled as quietly as he could into the threshold of the door and further into his home. The straps of his luggage bags fell off his shoulders haphazardly onto the tiled floor below with a slight thud.
The man took of his shoes and shut the door behind him, quietly. His back ached from sitting upright on a plane for so long and his eyes stung from being awake consecutively longer than a healthy human should.
Billie Joe Armstrong made his way into the kitchen of his home. All the lights were off except for the faint glow of a small light in the corner of the kitchen. The half moon outside illuminated the corners of the counters and the presence of tables and chairs.
His body was bent and hackneyed from months of touring and performing. He never complained about the touring nor the performing, even though that is where most of the physical pain came from. However, it pained him emotionally that he had to be away from his home for so long and from the inhabitants inside it.
Billie Joe squinted at the walls. He could have sworn the apple green walls were a golden color when he left several months ago, and he did not recognize some new appliances, but there were familiar things that always remained the same.
There was a pile of opened and unopened mail in a basket on the counter. Bills, letters, cards, subscriptions, it was all accounted for in that basket, just like always. There was a collage of pictures on the refrigerator. Nieces, nephews, friends, reminders. It was all jumbled together in a smattering of color on the black
The grinning school and soccer pictures of his sons were the exact same as the ones in his wallet. However, there were some of familiar faces placed next to ones he had never seen before in his life. Billie Joe shrugged, he really didn't care about it right now.
He made his way past the kitchen table and around the corner into the living room. His foot slid out from under him, nearly taking his body down onto the hardwood floor with a crash much louder and painful than he wanted to experience at the moment. He grabbed onto the mantle, moving several candles and pictures from their previous lots, to keep himself from falling. His back screamed in protest of the quick and straining movements.
"Joey." He growled as his oldest son's skateboard rolled away from him. Billie Joe shook his head. He knew he was going to die by a freak accident, but he didn't want to die from his son's carelessly placed skateboard. He straightened himself up and took that moment to remove his jacket from his body and threw it on the couch.
With only the light of the moon to guide him, Billie Joe made his way up the stairs, carefully checking to make sure his path was clear. Action figures hurt rather badly when stepped on by a naked foot. Continuing his careful surveillance, he made his way to a door on the second floor.
Billie Joe opened the door slowly so the hinges wouldn't squeak too terribly loud and poked his head inside the room. His youngest son Jakob was asleep in his bed, his brown hair tousled from sleep. Billie Joe stepped quietly to him amid a war zone of toys and such and kissed him lightly on the head as he slept.
Jakob yawned deeply as Billie Joe went back to the door and glanced back at his son before he closed the door, but left a crack between it and the doorway. He padded down the hall to another door and stepped inside. The room was a wreck, a sure signal that he was in his oldest son Joey's room.
Moving his foot to the side, Billie Joe swept a festering of sports equipment and such away out of his path so he could get to where his son slept, his mouth slightly open. Billie Joe laughed internally and kissed him lightly, just as he did with Jakob.
Joey stirred a bit as Billie Joe straightened back up. He rubbed his nose and turned on his other side, his sleep undisturbed. Billie Joe rubbed his burning eyes and left the room to go down to yet another door down the hall, but with every intention of spending more time within it.
The door squeaked slightly as Billie Joe tiptoed inside the dim room. The moonlight shone through the sheer draperies on the windows since the heavier ones were tied back during the warmer months of the year.
Billie Joe discarded his shirt and pants, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor, very similar to the piles in his son's rooms. He ran a hand through his hair. It stuck roughly in the patches of hair product and gel someone had applied to the strands earlier in the day at a photo shoot.
He padded to the large bed and slipped underneath the cool sheets and sighed a sigh of relief when his head made contact with his pillow. It was cool, fluffy and perfect. He rolled his head to the side to see a dark mess of hair lying out on the pillow next to his. The dark mess moved to reveal the porcelain face of his wife, Adrienne.
She sniffed and shifted her body to a more comfortable position, not knowing she was being watched. There was a slight smudge of eyeliner under her eyes. She always had difficulty washing it all off at the end of the day.
The covers of the bed were shoved down around her waist and revealed an old, faded Pinhead Gunpowder shirt of Billie Joe's. There was a small hole in one of the sleeves and a few bleach spots here and there, but it still looked perfect as it rested naturally against the curves of her upper body.
Billie Joe scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her temple lovingly. Adrienne made a noise in her throat and leaned into him more. "I missed you." She murmured, her eyes still closed and her breathing still steady.
"I missed you too Adie." He kissed her again and noticed the deep breathing of his wife as she slept on, as if the interaction between them had just been a dream. He whispered "I love you too," as he settled himself in a comfortable position, his arms still around his other half and drifted off to a sleep. The first in a long time.
The man took of his shoes and shut the door behind him, quietly. His back ached from sitting upright on a plane for so long and his eyes stung from being awake consecutively longer than a healthy human should.
Billie Joe Armstrong made his way into the kitchen of his home. All the lights were off except for the faint glow of a small light in the corner of the kitchen. The half moon outside illuminated the corners of the counters and the presence of tables and chairs.
His body was bent and hackneyed from months of touring and performing. He never complained about the touring nor the performing, even though that is where most of the physical pain came from. However, it pained him emotionally that he had to be away from his home for so long and from the inhabitants inside it.
Billie Joe squinted at the walls. He could have sworn the apple green walls were a golden color when he left several months ago, and he did not recognize some new appliances, but there were familiar things that always remained the same.
There was a pile of opened and unopened mail in a basket on the counter. Bills, letters, cards, subscriptions, it was all accounted for in that basket, just like always. There was a collage of pictures on the refrigerator. Nieces, nephews, friends, reminders. It was all jumbled together in a smattering of color on the black
The grinning school and soccer pictures of his sons were the exact same as the ones in his wallet. However, there were some of familiar faces placed next to ones he had never seen before in his life. Billie Joe shrugged, he really didn't care about it right now.
He made his way past the kitchen table and around the corner into the living room. His foot slid out from under him, nearly taking his body down onto the hardwood floor with a crash much louder and painful than he wanted to experience at the moment. He grabbed onto the mantle, moving several candles and pictures from their previous lots, to keep himself from falling. His back screamed in protest of the quick and straining movements.
"Joey." He growled as his oldest son's skateboard rolled away from him. Billie Joe shook his head. He knew he was going to die by a freak accident, but he didn't want to die from his son's carelessly placed skateboard. He straightened himself up and took that moment to remove his jacket from his body and threw it on the couch.
With only the light of the moon to guide him, Billie Joe made his way up the stairs, carefully checking to make sure his path was clear. Action figures hurt rather badly when stepped on by a naked foot. Continuing his careful surveillance, he made his way to a door on the second floor.
Billie Joe opened the door slowly so the hinges wouldn't squeak too terribly loud and poked his head inside the room. His youngest son Jakob was asleep in his bed, his brown hair tousled from sleep. Billie Joe stepped quietly to him amid a war zone of toys and such and kissed him lightly on the head as he slept.
Jakob yawned deeply as Billie Joe went back to the door and glanced back at his son before he closed the door, but left a crack between it and the doorway. He padded down the hall to another door and stepped inside. The room was a wreck, a sure signal that he was in his oldest son Joey's room.
Moving his foot to the side, Billie Joe swept a festering of sports equipment and such away out of his path so he could get to where his son slept, his mouth slightly open. Billie Joe laughed internally and kissed him lightly, just as he did with Jakob.
Joey stirred a bit as Billie Joe straightened back up. He rubbed his nose and turned on his other side, his sleep undisturbed. Billie Joe rubbed his burning eyes and left the room to go down to yet another door down the hall, but with every intention of spending more time within it.
The door squeaked slightly as Billie Joe tiptoed inside the dim room. The moonlight shone through the sheer draperies on the windows since the heavier ones were tied back during the warmer months of the year.
Billie Joe discarded his shirt and pants, leaving them in a messy pile on the floor, very similar to the piles in his son's rooms. He ran a hand through his hair. It stuck roughly in the patches of hair product and gel someone had applied to the strands earlier in the day at a photo shoot.
He padded to the large bed and slipped underneath the cool sheets and sighed a sigh of relief when his head made contact with his pillow. It was cool, fluffy and perfect. He rolled his head to the side to see a dark mess of hair lying out on the pillow next to his. The dark mess moved to reveal the porcelain face of his wife, Adrienne.
She sniffed and shifted her body to a more comfortable position, not knowing she was being watched. There was a slight smudge of eyeliner under her eyes. She always had difficulty washing it all off at the end of the day.
The covers of the bed were shoved down around her waist and revealed an old, faded Pinhead Gunpowder shirt of Billie Joe's. There was a small hole in one of the sleeves and a few bleach spots here and there, but it still looked perfect as it rested naturally against the curves of her upper body.
Billie Joe scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her body and kissed her temple lovingly. Adrienne made a noise in her throat and leaned into him more. "I missed you." She murmured, her eyes still closed and her breathing still steady.
"I missed you too Adie." He kissed her again and noticed the deep breathing of his wife as she slept on, as if the interaction between them had just been a dream. He whispered "I love you too," as he settled himself in a comfortable position, his arms still around his other half and drifted off to a sleep. The first in a long time.