PS. I love you Mike Dirnt

Aftermath

I’ve always hated the sun and now more then ever. A sleek ray of ultraviolet colour slithered through the crack in the curtains, slipping along the floor and travelling up the edges of the couch, landing directly onto my face. A crippling groan erupted from my throat and I buried my head further into the back cushions. A dull thump cascaded inside my skull. The only image I can conjure up that will sufficiently describe this pain, is a cartoon picture of a monkey whacking a sledge hammer against my brain. My throat felt dry and I was pretty sure it smelled as if something had died down there. I was sitting in an awkward position, the upper half of my body twisted uncomfortably and my legs were outstretched.

It was only then that I became aware of an intense heat pressed against my back and a gentle trickle of air that echoed in my ear. Mike was sitting next to me, his head flopping awkwardly against the back of mine. I could feel the tip of his nose being bent against my head, and my hair ruffling in time with his snores. His broad shoulders supported him and one of his slim legs were strewn across my shins. I could feel the outline of his elegant finger tips playing against my back bone, and to this day I still cannot fathom the reason as to why I didn’t just shag him on the spot. If ever you have felt like dancing with joy and screaming from the rooftops how good you feel, you can easily depict without images how I felt. My stomach knotted and the sensational butterfly feeling tickled my insides.

I can recall exactly what happened. Mike kissed me. It wasn’t me who kissed him, he kissed me. Which blatantly must mean that he likes me. As I sat on the couch, half afraid to move, half not wanting to move for fear of waking Mike from his slumber, my imagination went into over drive. Eccentric thoughts of happily ever afters swarmed my mind and to be very honest, I loved every single one of them.

He stirred next to me. My heart jolted.

“Nnnrgghh,” he moaned, rolling over and bumping his head against the corner of the couch, “Ouch!”

I grinned inwardly. Trying to keep my breathing steady, I closed my eyes and listened to his movements. I could tell he was contemplating whether or not he should get up from the couch.

“Sweet Jesus,” he mumbled, exhaling sharply and then yawning.

As he shuffled a smirk crossed my face. Mike gasped and heaved himself from the couch. I could here him cursing beneath his breath as he shuffled towards the kitchen. The gentle drip of the tap and the opening of the fridge. After that he awkwardly came back to the front room and burped loudly. Then everything was silent.

“What?” I could just about hear him muse and then, “No!”

He caught my shoulders and shook me roughly. Seeing as I was already awake, my initial reaction wasn’t surprising.

“What?” I asked, swiping at his hands.

He was towering above me. A sick look on his face and a panic stricken glint in his eyes. “Look!” he gasped, pointing to his zipper.

I cocked an eyebrow. “I know you haven’t been on a date in a while Mike, but really, resorting to such actions as I sleep …”

“Shut up Billie, I know you were awake!” he snapped, zipping up his jeans and frowning, “What did we do last night?”

My stomach knotted and I shrugged. “Drank?” I suggested meekly, “Why? What’s wrong?”

He wrung his hands nervously, shuffling his feet and averting his gaze to the window. “I think we may have …touched each other …”

At the time, I didn’t take into account how the last three words were said. He almost spat them at me as if wishing to rid the thoughts and suggestion of it all. I simply abolished his thoughts. No we didn’t touch each other, no way.

“Don’t be silly Mike, we couldn’t have.” Perhaps I said this a bit to desolately, because he glared at me.

“I know you kissed me Bill,” he accused, “I remember that much. Don’t think I don’t.”

“What are you talking about?” I barked, pointing a finger up at him, “You came onto me. There’s no sense in denying it, Mike.”

He gawped down at me and I edged back into the couch. I wasn’t terrified of Mike, he just intimidated me slightly when he got mad. Besides what was he on about? He did come on to me, he’s lying. There was no reason as to why I should have approached him in such a manner, because although I fancied him I wasn’t prepared to put our friendship at stake in such a way.

“Billie Joe, you are a liar,” he said, grabbing his hooded jumper from the chair and manoeuvring towards the door.

My hand as if on impulse shot out and I called his name. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

I clenched my eyes as the door slammed shut and the furious sound effects bounced against the walls, ringing in my ears and telling me straight up that “Billie Joe Armstrong, you fucked up …”