To know you is to hate you.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Robert Frost

On Wednesday the 5th of September, my son said his first words. On that same day a woman and man were married in a local church and a young girl was killed on the high street. The 5th of September will never be a day I will forget; it was the day my best friend, and lover, passed away.

It was a combination of his condition and 'self' abuse. His body had had enough of his mind, and decided to divorce; much like me and Brittney.

The exact reason Billie Joe died, I still don't want to know. Adi pressed about everything, all the gory details, but I wanted none of it. The fact that Billie was better off, away from Twitch and Fink, from the hassle between me and Adi, made me feel better. Not much, but better none the less.

Adi cried into my chest, the very man whom had slept with her husband. She wept and wept until she couldn't any more. I stood silently, while the doctor talked. I was too shocked to move, let alone cry.

“He's strong Mike. He'll get through this.”

But he didn't. His heart couldn't take it ;and he gave in.

“Mike?”

I gazed up into the face of our drummer, one Tre Cool. He wielded a cup of coffee in one hand and in the other, a box of tissues.

“You keep spacing out buddy.” he set the mug upon the table before patting my shoulder, “Gotta hang in there.”

It had been a stressful day, full of crying and condolences. Never had I seen so many black suits or such a crowd in a chapel before. My head was hurting, I was dying for a smoke and I was seriously considering suicide.

If this was me, how must Adi and the boys be feeling? Or Billie's mother?

“We'll survive this Mike.” Tre sighed.

“Maybe.” I whispered, “But when will it stop hurting?”

Tre lowered his head to stare at the tops of his shoes. He knew as well as me that it would never stop hurting. Losing Billie Joe, felt like losing a part of me. With out him I wasn't a whole person, I was little more than half a person; I felt like nothing.

“It-”

“Will never stop hurting?” I finished.

Tre nodded, “I can't lie. If I'm feeling this shit, how must you be feeling? You haven't cried a bit since he died.”

“I don't cry. I can't cry.”

“It would help.” Tre sighed, “Why can't you just let it out?”

“Because, crying is like admitting it's happened. I would rather live in blissful denial. Even if it means never grieving.”

“You can't just pretend it didn't happen. Billie Joe is dead. The band is finished. Everything is over. Our best friend is gone and there is no replacing him.”

The words hit me like a truck. I sat, still and staring, at the wall ahead of me. My hands were shaking, my heart beat grew fast and not once did I blink, in all the time that I stared ; I just watched.

In my mind, I begged for it all to be a dream. I begged the God I never knew or believed in to let it not be true; to bring my lover back to me. But it was the end and there was no getting round it. For me ,there was no happy ending.

“B-billie wouldn't want me to cry.” I whimpered, “He would want me to move on. Be happy.”

“He would want you to cry alittle. Come on now, this is BJ, it wouldn't be worth It if he didn't get some tears shed for him.” Tre joked, “He was a real self centred bastard sometimes,”
his voice broke, “ Y-you know that.”

I looked to him; the happy, care free Tre cool. His shoulders jerked with sobs, his cheeks were streaked with tears, and I thought to myself 'If such a strong man as Tre can break, why shouldn't I?'.

And I let myself cry.

We both wept together, and recalled all the good times. We drank beer until we ran out and then, rather drunkly, Tre went to retrieve some blankets from the linen closet.

“You don't have to stay the night, man.” I said.

“No, I want to. I don't want to be alone and I'm sure you don't.”

I wiped my eyes and nodded before curling into the fabric of the couch. A blanket was thrown over me and, across the room, Tre settled into the recliner. By the fire, Mikko whined in his dreams. The rest of my home was silent; deadly silent.

I hadn't heard from Brittney, even at the funeral she kept her distance. I hadn't seen my little boy, not in 4 god damned days. What was my life now with out them or Billie Joe? Was Adi holding me responsible? Would Tre go his own way? Was the band over?

One thing was for certain, the world didn't end in fire or in ice; it ended with Billie Joe Amrstrong.