When the World Comes Down

Billie and Mike were fucking when the world was ending.

It was quite perfect, actually. Billie threw his head back and practically screamed all the way through the first explosion, the guttural, choked sound filling his and Mike’s ears, blocking out everything else. Mike started to thrust into Billie with more force, his hips rocking up and down, his fingers scrabbling uselessly on the messy sheets for some sort of purchase. Billie arched backwards and Mike finally came, hard and hot, falling forward onto Billie, his stomach fitting perfectly into the dip of his back. Billie was just turning around to kiss him as they usually did when the second explosion went. They both stopped, wide eyed, Mike’s fingers digging hard into Billie’s arms on reflex, Billie halfway to sitting up before Mike had even managed to fully roll off him.

The force of the explosion rattled the floorboards. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but just as his lips spread apart, the phone on the bedside table rang, loud and incessant. As Mike reached for it, another explosion hit, this one smaller but still enough to rattle the windows. Billie felt a sinking dread in his stomach.

“Hello?” Mike said waveringly into the phone, and Billie had time to think of how scared his voice sounded, how Mike never sounded like that, not ever, not even when his stepfather died when they were teenagers and he had nowhere to live, not when he was diagnosed with his heart condition -- never. Billie heard fear in Mike’s voice, real fear, and terror started to spread through him, cold and sharp, numbing his fingers and toes, shriveling his testicles and causing goosebumps to spread on his arms and legs and chest.

“Are you sure, Tre?” Mike asked, quietly, and Billie closed his eyes against the tears that suddenly flooded him. This is it, I guess, he thought bitterly.

“Tre… Tre, no, are you sure? Please, I… Tre… talk to Billie, please, while you have the time, please…” Billie could tell Mike was crying even though his eyes were still closed. He could still feel the sting of Tre’s betrayal, smell the sour dirty smell of that night, but it was fading. The smells and feelings of past nights were fading, just like everything else. He held out his hand, and a few moments later, Mike gave him the phone.

“Hello?” Billie said, still staring at the inside of his eyelids. He felt Mike get off the bed, and he wanted to grab for him but found he didn’t have the strength.

“Billie?” Tre’s voice flooded Billie’s ears, and it was exactly the same as the last time he heard it. Crackled with tears, that little boy’s voice stuck inside of a man’s throat. “Billie, please. I can see the mushroom cloud. We have some time left, like they told us, but not too much. Billie… please. Billie.”

Billie’s eyes were still closed. A movie played in his head. Tre was begging Billie to let him back in. “Billie… please. Billie! Please! I’m sorry!” Billie watched himself deadbolt the door and turn his back to Tre’s face, distorted by the frosted glass of his front door. Tre saw a strong back, but tears were streaming down Billie’s face, dripping on his shaking cigarette.

“Billie?” Real life Tre was still begging him, all these years later. “Please. Let me apologize.”

Billie’s eyes opened. He saw the water stained ceiling and realized it was blurred by tears he first shed years ago. “Tre?” he said into the phone, his first word in nearly a decade to a man who had once been his best friend.

“Billie.” Relief filled his voice, relief so pure Billie could almost picture it on his face. “Billie, I’m sorry.”

“I know, Tre. I know you are. I know you were. I know that now.” Billie swung his legs over the bed, cradling his forehead in his hands. Weight returned to the other side of the bed, and Billie felt Mike’s hands caressing his back, the touch gentle and encouraging.

“I love you, Tre.” Billie said through sobs, listening to Tre drop the phone in the heat of his heaving tears, the clatter through the line making him wince as Tre fumbled to pick it back up.

“I love you too, Billie. I always did. I always have. Never stopped… Billie, please… I never meant to hurt you. I should have told you this years ago, but I always thought there’d be more time. I never thought… even when they told us it was all almost over, I still… thought there was time. And now there’s none.”

“We’ll catch up someday, eh? How’s that sound?” Billie said, biting his lips, trying to control his emotions.

Tre laughed a little. “We’ll do lunch.”

Billie laughed. Mike pressed his forehead against the back of his neck. Billie knew the mushroom cloud must be getting closer, because the air seemed thicker and his head felt lighter.

“Tre, I think we should go. I think it’s time.”

“I know it is. Put me on speaker, would you?”

When Billie did, Mike’s head shot up and he moved as close to the phone as he could. “Hey, man.” his voice was filled with love and tenderness.

“Mike. Hey, dude. I guess you finally got him to talk to me, huh?” Mike laughed, the tears in his blue eyes shining.

“I guess so. Cutting it a little close, but I guess it’s better late than never.”

“Better late than never.” Tre repeated, his laugh weak. There was silence when the three men listened to each other breathe heavily, a silence as comfortable as the silences they used to share as teenagers. So many years ago. There was barely any time to remember.

“I love you, Tre.” Mike said by way of farewell before burying his face into Billie’s lap, quiet sobs shaking his body.

“Bye, Mike. I love you, man.” Tre sounded strangely calm, resigned.

“We’ll do lunch soon, Tre. See you… see you then.” Billie said, his tears silent. “Love you.”

“I love you both, you guys know that? So much.” Tre’s voice started to break and he hung up, leaving Mike and Billie with nothing but tears and a buzzing dial tone.

---

Everything went wrong at once. The ozone layer. The sunlight. The tectonic plates. The tide. People got headaches; people got sick; people couldn’t breathe unfiltered air without contracting some terrible disease; random earthquakes ranging in severity rattled everyone’s bones; land above sea level was flooded. There was death, there was mass chaos, and slowly but surely, society began to disintegrate. Across the globe, uncontrollable riots broke out, citizens taking control of cities and countries with no opposition from a higher authority - mainly because there wasn’t any. Not anymore.

If anyone had been watching - or caring - they would have seen that the US somehow managed to keep a semblance of control. That’s not to say there wasn’t riots and revolts and destruction, but there was still a government. And because there was a government, the people had something to blame. And this kept them calm - for a while, at least.

Of course everyone wanted to blame the government; and the government was probably a big part of it. The government’s ‘democratic’ lies and ‘patriotic’ cover-ups. But towards the end, when the chance for change and salvation seemed less and less, they started telling the truth more and more. Undeniable truths.

Scientists told the hardest truths - the facts. The emotionless, terrifying truths. We were at the end of the rope. If we all lived long enough, we’d be able to watch the planet fold in on itself, the tectonic plates shifting the face of the planet into an entirely different shape. The northern and southern poles would reverse themselves. The ozone layer would finally deplete, like it had been threatening to do for years. And these things would all happen fast, in quick succession - a matter of days, months, weeks. It was hard to tell.

It would start with temperature changes. And while no one was allowed outside, you could still tell that the weather was behaving unnaturally when it snowed in the morning and was so hot in the afternoon all traces of snow evaporated a mere hours after it fell. Things would deteriorate from there - the sun would turn a greenish color, the sky a tainted purple, and then there would be nothing to do but wait for the final days. These would start with explosions. Explosions coming from the crust of the Earth, rumbling up from the depths of the planet - fault lines would open up, swallowing homes and people. The frequent earthquakes would increase tenfold, the sun would fade out, and then…

Then the government was going to release a hydrogen bomb in the middle of the country, as an act of mercy. It would move slowly, but the general consensus was that it would be a kinder death than falling into the core of the earth.

In the President’s final address to the country, (or to the parts of the country who could hear him) in between the earthquakes that seemed to plague Washington D.C the worst of all, the haggard president left with possibly the most truthful words a man of his office had ever spoken to his constituents: “It is everyone’s fault. Everyone. Every single fucking person is to blame. Every single fucking country. Every-single-fucking-one of us.”

---

Billie and Mike quit smoking in the summer of 2004, but when impending doom was brought on their shoulders, Mike went out and got a packet of Marlboro Reds. He stuffed them in the back of his nightstand, neglecting to tell Billie about it, and forgot about them. Until now.

Now, they lay in bed, side by side, smoking the stale Marlboros. It made it harder to breathe, especially with the gas creeping closer and closer, making the air thicker and thicker. Billie coughed, deep and rough, but kept taking drags, long and hard. Mike smoked daintily, the way he always used to, holding his cigarette like a girl, taking short puffs and blowing the smoke out in tiny explosions of gray smoke.

They were each buried in their thoughts, unable to do much but wait. Panic would do no good - they were too resigned to their fate to panic in any case.

Billie finally had enough of his cigarette - his last cigarette, ever - and just before it reached the filter, he stubbed it out on the scarred wood of his nightstand. Mike had his left hand behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, taking his short puffs. Billie sat on the edge of the bed for just a moment, staring at Mike’s profile, watching the way his lips closed over the cigarette, noticing - not for the first time, but maybe for the last time - the way Mike looked deep in thought, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, like he was some great scientist on the brink of a world changing discovery, like he was a writer, struggling for just the right word, ending, beginning, name. Billie felt like he could see every part of Mike at that moment, and he could have stayed there for hours, staring at Mike’s golden beauty, watching him smoke and think, like he had for so many years.

But now, he didn’t have hours. He didn’t know how long he had. Slowly - much more slowly than either of them realized, because they weren’t all there - he walked on his knees across the bed, wrapping his arms around Mike. Mike set his cigarette down on the bedside table, letting it burn itself out, for the first time in his life not worried about starting the house on fire and killing them both, because it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered with death staring them so close in the face besides each other, besides these last few moments, besides the way they looked in the faded light.

“I’ve loved you all my life, you know.” Billie whispered, holding Mike close to him, only their faces apart.

“I’ve loved you longer.” Mike countered, kissing the tip of Billie’s nose.

“I don’t want you to die.” Billie started to cry a little, silent tears, reaching his hand up to trace down Mike’s smooth face. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want this to happen. I… I just…” he trailed off, unable to articulate what he truly meant.

Mike listened to him struggle until he could take it no more, leaning in to kiss Billie, hard and unrelenting, feeling the pressure of Billie’s perfectly imperfect teeth behind his lips.

“If I have to die, Billie, this is the way I want to do it.” Mike said as the kiss broke, his voice strong and deep, the way it almost always sounded to Billie.

“You know what I always wanted to do, Mike?” Billie asked, his words slow, strained, his breaths fewer and farther in between.

“Hm?” Mike’s hands were tracing down Billie’s bare torso, feeling and memorizing every curve, dip, and rib bone he could feel.

“I always wanted to ask you to m-marry me. I always wanted to marry you. Kiss you over a cake with two little grooms on it and… and slip a ring on your finger and… belong to you legally and emotionally and in every possible way. I dunno, Mikey, I just always wanted to ask you and I could never work up the guts.” Billie’s tears had stopped by now. Somewhere deep inside him, he realized that there was no time to cry. No time to waste.

Neither of them noticed how dark it had gotten outside - how quiet.

“Will you marry me, Michael Pritchard?”

Mike leant in and kissed Billie again, this time opening to kiss to passion, letting his tongue slide along Billie’s, trying to remember every single time they’d done this, even though he knew he couldn’t. Even thought he knew it was impossible, he tried to remember and feel and relive every fucking moment he ever shared with Billie, every first experience and bad experience and boring day and long night and every fight and every touch and caress and I love you and in that last open kiss, he realized that Billie was his entire life, there was hardly a memory without him, hardly a day, hardly an hour, hardly a moment without Billie.

“Yes, Billie Joe Armstrong. I’d marry you a million times over.”

Billie laughed a little, quietly, almost inaudibly. “I think we only have time to do it once, baby.”

Mike smiled and felt tears on his face, though he wasn’t sure if they were his or Billie’s. It didn’t matter, anyway.

“Do you take me to be your lawful wedded h-husband?” Billie enveloped Mike into a fierce hug as he said this, whispering it in his ear, squeezing the body he knew and loved so well with all his fading might.

“I do.” Mike whispered back, kissing Billie’s ear weakly. “Do you take me?” he asked, needing to get it out while he could.

“I do.” Billie kissed his ear back.

“Until death do us part.”

The irony was overwhelming for them both. Billie released his death grip on Mike and stared into his eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyes blinked slowly, staying closed for longer each time.

There was nothing but darkness outside, the suffocating cloud blocking out the late afternoon light.

“I love you, Mike.” Billie mouthed, his voice gone.

“I love you, Billie.” Mike mouthed back, and before he could kiss him again, Billie’s eyes slipped shut and didn’t open again.

Mike felt one tiny twinge, unable to feel anymore, and his eyes closed as well.