Unrequited: A Series of Heartbreaks

On Stage For Ages

The heat of the stage, the lights focused everywhere, this was my world. I almost can't remember a time when I wasn't a part of this. I feel like I was born just playing the drums. Or maybe someone up and decided that my home would be in front of an audience. Billie Joe, Mike, and I, we've always been a team. I think we would have found each other one way or another. It's damn near impossible to imagine life without them. I did once. That was some scary shit.

Sometimes, I really do stop for a moment and wonder what life would have been like if I'd never joined Green Day. What would it really be like if I wasn't here right now, in room slowly filling up with teenagers and parents and almost every type of human imaginable? I think I'd feel empty. Yeah, I would definitely feel dead if Billie Joe and Mike weren't my bandmates. But we're all best friends first. It would just be so...strange if I didn't see them having their little 'lovers quarrels' and throwing witty (and extremely sexual) banter at each other all the time.

Seeing that just makes me feel at home. To tell the truth, it makes me a little jealous too. Oh, who the hell am I kidding? It makes me really, really jealous. I've always wanted someone, but every time I try, it just doesn't work out. I've got a gut feeling that it's because I don't want just anyone. There's a certain someone I've wanted from the moment we met. Billie Joe Armstrong.

I know it's almost stupid, but after almost fifteen years of wanting, nothing seems stupid and nothing seems impossible. But I know it is. I watch him all the time and I know he'll never need anyone but his first and longest loveā€”Mike.

The audience is starting to get fired up. So are Billie Joe and Mike. I guess I am too. How can I not be? I get to watch him play. I feel stupid thinking about it, but it's like a treat. I like to watch him. But then again, so does half the planet. Still, no one loves him like I do. He'll just never know.

He took up his guitar and stood next to Mike, the one I was doomed to be jealous of forever. It made sense, of course. They always would be best friends and they would always be in love. And I would always be left behind to gaze at him while he sang and I just sat there, playing the drums and acting like a wind-up monkey. It's been fifteen years and I never breathed a word of it. Everyone says that I'm the stupidest one. I guess they're right; I just sit behind them, staring and thinking the same thoughts over and over.

The audience begins to sing along with him. Mike's singing too. It's terrible; it's like I have this urge to hate my own brother. But we've been rivals since day one. I don't think he cares anymore. I think he knows that I'll never have Billie Joe, no matter how bad I want him.

He stops singing. He's leaning down to focus on his guitar for the moment and I can see the beads of sweat trickling down his neck from his hair. I've touched that hair enough to know how soft it is. But it's never going to be enough, not unless he's mine. He's still playing his guitar like a born rock-star and I'm still banging my drums knowing that it'll never happen.

Billie Joe starts singing again. It's beautiful, just like him. The crowd's going along with him Suddenly, his fingers stop strumming the guitar. He takes it off and places it on the floor. Everyone's looking at Billie Joe intently, and he's looking right back at them. He turns his back and walks away. Something's wrong. Why is he leaving?

...He's not leaving. Billie's coming to me. Something's wrong. This isn't real. He plucks my drumsticks right out of my hand and throws them to the side. The entire world seems breathless and silent. Without warning, without a word, he sweeps down and locks my lips with his in a kiss I've been waiting fifteen years for.

Time stops. The audience is motionless and Mike stands there watching with his mouth agape. He wants to walk towards Billie Joe, but his feet glue him in place. Now he has to watch while my dream comes true.

Billie Joe ignores it. He's not looking at anyone or anything but me. And my eyes are fixed upon his green ones. It's finally happened. I can finally sleep. I can rest easy, because he's mine now. Mine.

"Tre..." he says, softly. I open my mouth to reply, but he speaks again. "Tre..." he breathes. My name rolls off of his tongue, the way it was always meant to. "Tre..."

"Tre?" his voice changes. Louder, now, different. "Tre? Come on, man, stop spacing out." I look around me. We're on stage, but there's no one else. Just the three of us.

"Tre," Billie Joe says, "We have to go to a sound check in about a half hour. We need to get in a little more practice. Bang them drums, Mista Cool!" he jokes. But I oblige.

How can I not? Yeah, sure, it was just a dream. But no one stops dreaming. I never have and I never will, even if it means that I'm going to live in an eternity of unrequited love.