Riding On The Night Train

The two musicians talked into the night; about memories from the past and hopes for the future, about their love for life on stage and their aching for home. They talked about fans that had overwhelmed them, friends that had disappointed them and family that they couldn't live without. They spoke with quiet whispers, soft chuckles, and peels of laughter that made the barmaid smile. At three in the morning, they were still in the corner, glasses close to empty, leaning close across the table, sharing a lazy smoke of Amsterdam's finest silver haze.

“I haven't done this shit since I was a teenager,” Mika commented, as the joint passed back from Billie Joe's hand into his own. The exchange was slow and a little clumsy and he felt a pleasant shiver, as their fingertips brushed together, far too briefly.

“You haven't?”

He shook his head.

“Nah... I suppose it was a rite of passage I felt I had to go through, then when I was done, I was done,” he took a drag and watched the end burn, before exhaling into the air between them. “I was into singing, y'know? I worried about my voice. That doesn't mean I'm not enjoying this though.”

Billie Joe smiled, watching him.

“Yeah... I was never the kind of teenager that worried about my voice. I found other stuff to worry about though, I guess. Maybe I should have thought about it more back then... then I mightn't be the smoke addict I am now. Damn, and imagine how shit-hot my singing might have been...”

Mika smiled around the joint in his mouth.

“I think you're a pretty shit-hot singer as it is. Don't put yourself down.”

“I don't sing like you.”

“I can't play the guitar.”

“... Still, we're both pretty fuckin' great.”

Mika giggled, his elbow landing on the table, as he leaned forward to pass the joint back to Billie Joe.

“Yep,” he nodded.

They were quiet a moment, listening to the clink of glass, as the barmaid cleared the tables. The bar would be closing soon and they both knew it, neither one wanting to venture any suggestion of what this might mean for them and where they could go next. It was late, so late that it could probably be considered early, and any chance of a train back to Landgraaf had long since departed.

“Do you ever think about it?”

Billie Joe's question was quiet, so quiet that Mika wondered for a moment if he had heard it correctly. His eyes were cast downwards, watching the ash fall into the battered aluminium tray that sat between them on the table. It wasn't until his eyes lifted, expectant and almost shy, that he felt he had to answer, and the prospect made his heart race. There wasn't any doubt about what Billie Joe was referring to; the question was heavy, laden with memories that had, as-yet, gone unmentioned and bringing it out into the warm, hazy air between them felt both intimate and frightening.

“I, um... do you?”

Billie Joe gave him a lop-sided smile, dropping his eyes again.

“I asked first.”

He chuckled, a little nervously, letting his answer roll around in his head for a moment before he couldn't hold it in any more. It came out in a whisper that seemed to bring all his breath along with it.

“Yeah... sometimes I have... I mean, I do.” He cleared his throat, with a gentle smirk. “Unless, I mean, you don't. In which case, I'm much... cooler than that.”

Billie Joe laughed, his green eyes crinkling, as one hand scratched in his messy hair. He took another drag on the joint, slow and deliberate, and he held Mika's gaze as he let it out again.

“There's no need to be cooler than that,” he told him, softly, “... 'cause... I think about it too.”

When the bar finally shut its doors, Billie Joe and Mika were the last ones out of them. The barmaid had let them stay a little longer but they had barely noticed her clearing up around them, even the lights and the music dimming and fading had passed them by until she was ushering them on their way.

There was rain in the air and a slight chill to the breeze and Billie Joe shivered, as they made their way down the quiet side street, listening to the sound of the city's night life drifting through from the bustling centre.

Mika was swaying a little as he walked, his footsteps weaving an uneven path, and it made Billie Joe smile. He was feeling a little buzzed himself and his ability to hold his liquor was almost the stuff of legend, so it was little wonder his slender companion was showing signs of struggling on his feet.

“Y'alright?” he asked him, bringing his hand up to the younger man's shoulder, who turned and met his eyes with a smile.

“Sure, yeah... I'm fine,” he replied, “My head feels kind of warm... it's all good.”

Billie Joe smiled, his hand sliding from Mika's shoulder down the arm of his jacket, finding Mika's fingers with tentative hesitation. He wondered when he had started being so ridiculous over this, suddenly he felt like he was twelve again and holding hands with someone was thrilling enough to keep him awake all night. Mika's hand closed, warmly, around his own and it felt so wonderfully right that he barely even noticed they were headed out towards the main square again. He stopped them both, tugging gently on Mika's hand.

“Mika... d'you know where we're going?”

Mika turned, looking down at him with a crooked smile.

“No fucking idea,” he admitted, “That map in my head's got even sketchier, to be honest.”

“I don't think we're getting back to Pinkpop tonight.”

“Uh... no,” he agreed, and the nervous uncertainty in his eyes made Billie Joe smile again. “I think we got ourselves stranded in Amsterdam.”

Billie Joe started to giggle again, the absurdity of their situation slowly filtering through the comfortable fuzz inside his head. He was over a hundred miles from the rest of his band and tour crew, apparently with no way of getting back again, with a guy he had met only twice in his life before and he was now holding onto like he never wanted to let go. Add in the fact that the air in this town smelled like his old teenage bedroom and that was legal apparently, and it was almost crazier than his brain could handle.

“Mike's gonna be pissed.”

Mika laughed too.

“Don't tell him I'm here too, I don't want him comin' after me.”

Billie Joe grinned.

“Don't worry. He isn't as tough as he looks. Actually, he's soft as shit...”

Mika seemed to realise they were still holding hands at the same time he did, and he followed the younger man's eyes down to their linked fingers. The small side street felt very still all of a sudden, and very quiet against the backdrop of the city behind it.

“You know...”Mika murmured, and Billie Joe didn't miss the slight shake to his voice. “I don't really believe you're here. I mean... I didn't even think I was going to see you this weekend... I never really imagined...”

“... We'd be drinking gin and getting high in Amsterdam,” Billie Joe finished.

Mika chuckled, closing his eyes and giving his head a little shake and Billie Joe squeezed his hand.

“I didn't either,” he admitted, “I just knew that... Mika, I really, really wanted to see you again. And I'd been thinking about that for a while.”

The breeze caught Mika's curls and whipped them around his dark eyes, which looked like they were glittering in the city lights. It made him look youthful but, suddenly, very serious and Billie Joe felt a little dizzy, as his free hand moved to rest above the waist of Mika's jeans.

“I've thought about you too...” Mika replied, his smile nervous but somehow reassuring, “I'm glad you're here, y'know. Even though I have no fucking idea how we're going to get home.”

“Is it weird that I don't care?” Billie Joe murmured, becoming aware of Mika leaning closer into his touch and wishing that he was a little taller, just a little, so that he could read his eyes a little better and get some idea of what he was thinking. Even though the fact that his head fit perfectly on the younger man's shoulder was sort of cool after all. He felt Mika exhale.

“I don't think I care either...”

Billie Joe took his hand from Mika's waist and let it slide up the soft cotton of his striped t-shirt, feeling the warmth and the firmness of his lithe body beneath it. It made him quiver a little, as he was reminded of touches, sounds and feelings that had faded far more than he had ever wanted them to. He could feel Mika's breath quickening in his chest and his pulse racing beneath the thin material of his t-shirt, before his hand continued its journey up to his damp hair. It tangled around his fingers, soft and unruly and exactly how he remembered, and then he was tilting his chin upwards and guiding Mika's down so that his mouth met his own.

Mika's heart fluttered when Billie Joe kissed his lips, tentative and soft. He wound an arm around Billie Joe's waist, bringing him closer and pulling him in for a second try, then a third. The fourth kiss was longer, but soft all the same, and Mika could feel his heart hammering wildly, when he felt the guitarist's fingers flex in his hair.

It seemed like a lifetime since he had felt this, and ten lifetimes since he had felt it with Billie Joe. He felt just as good as he remembered, and he let out a shaky exhalation, as their kiss deepened and he felt the first flicker of his tongue. Mika gripped the front of Billie Joe’s jacket, as he felt his knees weaken, his brain fizzing at the sensation of his stubble grazing his chin, his tongue gentle against his lip, and the occasional, blissful scrape of his teeth. He struggled to catch his breath as they parted and Billie Joe leaned into him, his forehead pressing against his hot cheek.

“Mika...” he whispered, and Mika marvelled at how even the way he said his name made his stomach do cartwheels.

“... Yeah?”

“D'you want to find somewhere to stay... with me?”

Mika swallowed, raising one hand from Billie Joe's waist and sliding it into his tousled hair, which felt damp from the rain and curled around his fingers.

“Yeah...” he whispered back, leaning in to kiss him again, “... Yeah.”