I Liked it Better When They Were Young

Anna's P.O.V

At home alone. I heard Mike come in, with Billie. I walked through to the landing.

“Hey, Bill. Did you have fun with your friends?” Billie looked very worse for wear. It looked like Mike was holding him up, and he was swaying slowly, like a swing someone’s just jumped off. His eyes were closed and he was groaning softly.

“What’s wrong with him?” I looked at Mike. He said nothing. “Mike, what’s wrong with him?” I put two and two together. I looked down at Billie. “Are you... are you drunk?!” Billie answered my question by leaning forwards and throwing up. I looked at Mike and then at the door.

“Where are they?” I asked icily.

“Who knows?” Said Mike, closing the door. “I saw them at the spar, Sean said he was really drunk.” I sighed.

“I shouldn’t have let him go with them...”
“Anna.” Mike interrupted, “This is so far from being your fault. They took him and got him drunk. They know Billie. They know his weaknesses. It’s all just fun and games for them.” I nodded.

“Where did you find him?”

“In an alleyway near Harry’s Bar. He was passed out.”

“Son of a bitch!” I pushed my hair off my face. “Well, you get him to bed, I’ll... I’ll clean up.” I walked back into the living room, slamming the door behind me.

Billie's P.O.V.
I woke up in my own bed with the worst headache I’ve ever experienced. There was a bottle of water on the side of my bed. I grabbed it and drank some down. I heard Anna yell up the stairs, “Billie Joe Armstrong, I wanna talk to you!” Shit! She never says my full name unless it’s something negative. I looked around my room franticly, then pulled the covers over my head.

Anna's P.O.V
I knocked on Billie’s door. No answer.

“Billie? I’m coming in.” I said and I opened the door. I couldn’t actually see Billie, but the lump underneath the covers told me everything I needed to know. I whipped them off him. He looked up at me and smiled innocently. I sighed.

“I hear your night out with the guys got a little crazy.” He looked down at the ground for a second, then up at me.

“Are you mad at me?” I sat with him on the bed.

“Yes! Yes, I am mad at you. But I’m mostly mad at your so called friends. I mean, what kind of friend abandons someone in an alleyway and gets them drunk just for fun?” Billie shrugged.

“A bad kind of friend?” I nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Billie frowned.

“Did you come and get me?” I shook my head.

“No, Mike did. So I would thank him if I were you.” Billie nodded.

“Don’t worry, I will. That guy‘s been there for me constantly.” I nodded and got up off the bed.

“ Yeah, he sure has. I’m gonna go out for a while. Mike will be here, and I’ll be back soon.” Billie nodded. As I was about to leave, he called me back.

“Anna?” I turned around. He sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry.” I nodded.

“Ok then.” He tilted his head to one side.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” I sighed.

“Billie, I love you a lot. But, I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for scaring me as much as you did last night.” He looked down, tears filling his green eyes.

“I’m really, really sorry.” He whimpered. I walked over and hugged him.

“I know.” I said, wiping his eyes. “You’re just gonna have to stop pissing me off.” He grinned and looked up at me.

“I’ll try.”

Billie's P.O.V
I walked downstairs, rubbing my eyes. Mike was sat on the sofa, sipping coffee, as usual.

“Hey.” I said, smiling. He said nothing. But he glared at me a bit. I scoffed. “What’s that look for?” He was about to answer, when Anna came down the stairs.

“I’m going out for a while, you...” She looked at me pointedly. “Stay out of trouble.” I rolled my eyes. Even the hangover was better than this little kid shit she was giving me. Ok, so things had gotten a bit out of control. She went out the door. She was gone five seconds, and Mike faced me with his look of hell.

“You could've fucking died last night.” He said stonily. I shook my head, laughing, trying to shrug it off,

“Aww, don’t exaggerate Mike. It’s a bad habit...”

“Who are you to tell me about bad habits?!” The joking smile faded from my face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, even though I knew fine well what it meant. He was wrong. It wasn’t a habit. I just had trouble knowing when to stop.

“You know fine well what it means!” Mike screamed truthfully. “If I hadn’t found you, God knows what would have happened....” I nodded.

“Yeah, did I thank you for that...?” I asked, a casual smile on my face. Mike ignored my joke. “It’s got to stop, Billie. I can’t keep chasing after you....”

“I didn’t ask you to!” I pointed out, “Christ, you moan on and on over something nobody forced on you!”

“You don’t need to ask me! It’s perfectly clear that you can’t look after yourself.” I bristled. I just wanted him to shut up. It hurt. What he was saying hurt. But then, the truth does hurt....
Mike had stopped speaking. I leered at him.

“Come on Mike! If you‘re gonna have a rant at me, at least make it decent!” A “To hell with it” expression crossed his face and he continued slagging me off.

“You’re always drunk! Every time I see you, you’re fucking wasted!”

“You just catch me at bad times...”

“Any time awake is a bad time for you. I know you’re upset. I know you’re angry. You don’t need to tell me that by binging in your room every night...”

“Shut up.” I hissed, half spitting venomously, half whimpering pathetically. “You don’t know half of how I feel, what I’ve been through...”

“You never tell me!”

“Why would I? I hate crying, Mike. I hate people seeing me vulnerable...”

“You can’t get much more vulnerable than passed out in a gutter.” Mike said, smirking. “ You’re so scared about people seeing the real you, when really that’s all people want to see. You’re pathetic, Billie. You’re a fucking wreck. You’re one more bottle away from becoming the man who started all this in the first place....” Right. Now he had really done it. I bit my lip fiercely, but it didn’t work. I still started crying like a first year. Mike looked alarmed.

“I’m sorry!” He stammered. I don‘t often cry, so it‘s quite a big deal when I do. “I didn’t mean that...” I looked up at him.

“Yeah, sure as hell you didn’t.” I said, choking on my tears. “Why do you hate me so much, Mike? I hate myself enough right now without you jumping on the band wagon!” I walked out of the living room, up to my room. My hangover was the least of my worries now...

“I don’t hate you!” Mike yelled hopelessly from downstairs. I came to the top of the stairs.

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to know! When you say things like that to me...”

“I say those things because I care about you! I want to pull you out of this, Billie. I don’t want you hurting yourself any more...”

“Well now I don’t have to! You’re doing my job for me!” I was about to storm into my room, when I say Mike’s stuff lying on the floor, and the truth sank in.

“I want you out.” I said, voicing what I felt. I heard Mike shuffle in panic.

“What?” I walked over to the stairs and looked down at him, standing on the landing.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t have someone here who looks down on me. I want you out.” I said, my voice breaking with a sob at the end of my sentence. Mike didn’t say a word. He stormed straight up the stairs, past me and into my room. He gathered his things, slung his gym bag over his shoulder and left without a backward glance. I jumped slightly as he slammed the door behind him. The sound vibrated through my ear drums.

I broke down. I flung myself on my bed, shaking violently. He was right. Most of what he was saying was right. I was a wreck. I was pathetic. I was a fucking alcoholic. I could have died last night. And I’d just kicked the guy who saved my life out of my house. But he was wrong about one thing. I wasn’t like my step dad. I wasn’t violent. I wasn’t a liar. I wasn’t a coward. I would never hit a girl. I would never hit a kid half my size. I would never sink that low. I knew he hadn’t meant it like that. I knew what he had meant by it. He meant the alcohol side of things. But he had pushed it too far. We had both pushed things far too far.