Sequel: Aftermath. ›
1989 (or Love, Billie Joe)
1989 (or Love, Billie Joe)
It had happened innocently enough. Billie Joe was going through some shit he had in storage and Mike offered to help. "Adie's bitching about how I never throw anything away." Billie said with a smile on his face.
Mike snorted and opened a box. "She's got a point. Shit, Billie. How did you manage to fill up so many notebooks?" He knew the answer. It was hypothetical. However, Billie didn't put his notebooks in storage. He had at least three chests in the den for those.
"Notebooks?" Billie threw the lamp he had been poking onto the ground and walked over to the book. He flipped one open and read the date. "1989. Shit, we were..." He did the sum in his head. "We were 17 then. Wow."
He looked at what he had written on April 2, 1989.
I'm sick of the waiting and all the bullshit
I'm sick of wearing this smile, this lie
I don't want to tell you I'm fine anymore
I want to tell you the truth
But I'm terrified
A song without music. There was more, but Billie didn't want to read it. He slammed the notebook shut and put it back in the box. "I hated 1989."
"You did not." Mike said. A letter had fluttered from the notebook, but he didn't say anything. However, when Billie turned his back and moved toward the back of the shed, he picked it up and put it in his pocket. It did have his name on it, after all.
Then Mike found a box of clothes from 1988 and they spent a good half hour laughing about what fashion rejects they used to be. "You haven't gotten much better." Mike teased his best friend after Billie had decided he couldn't throw any of that out either.
It took two hours to go through everything and Billie five minutes to decide he couldn't throw anything away but the lamp he broke.
"What's Adie going to think of that?" Mike asked as they walked back up to the house.
Billie shrugged. "If she wants a shed that badly, I'll just build her one."
"What are you going to do when she wants you to clear out the attic?" Mike pointed out.
"Get her drunk until she forgets about it."
---
Mike waited until about midnight to read the letter. He tried to guilt trip himself into not doing it. He obviously didn't want me to read it if he kept it in a notebook for twenty-four years.
It's got your name on it.
"I'm not schizo." Mike said to no one in particular and slowly slit the envelope open.
Billie's handwriting was terrible. And if Mike hadn't spent years relearning how to read it, he never would have been able to. Not to mention the letter was full of cross-outs and the ink was over twenty-years old.
Mike,
I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come right out and tell you. I'm bi. Well, you know that. But do you remember that one time when we were in about the eighth grade and we taught each other how to kiss? Because you wanted to date that one girl and you didn't know, so I said I'd teach you. Do you remember that?
Well, I can't get it out of my head. And then you got drunk at that party and kissed me last year. And I kissed you at the show. I know you thought that was just because I couldn't find any guy worth kissing in the crowd, but it wasn't. I thought you might be able to tell.
But you couldn't. It's okay. I'm not mad or anything. I don't blame you.
You know how you always said I could bullshit my way out of anything? Well, I'm trying that right now. Mike, I love you. I think I've been in love with you since that first time we kissed back in junior high. Maybe that wasn't it, but I know I'm in love with you now.
And it hurts so bad because I know you'll never love me back. I lay awake every night and think about you. I fucking jerk off to you, Mike. And sometimes I hurt myself. Because I know you don't love me back. Why would you? You're straight.
I know that I'm depressed all the time. You keep asking about it. I know it's making everyone else's life harder. And you're worried. You shouldn't be. You're only seventeen. Hell, I'm only seventeen. But seventeen year olds shouldn't have to worry about each other...
***1989***
Billie looked at the table by his bed and kind of gave a sad smile before returning to his letter.
'So, I'm going to end it. I know it'll probably hurt for awhile, but you'll get over it. Don't worry. It won't hurt that bad. It'll all be over soon. I won't suffer, Mike.
I just wanted you to know before I did it. I wanted you to know how much I love you.
But I'm not killing myself because of you. Don't think that. I know it'll just make you go crazy if you do. I'm killing myself because there's no way out. It's so fucking dark in this hole I dug and I just want the darkness to go away. I want everything to go away. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want anything.
I just want to die.
I love you.
Love,
Billie Joe'
Billie folded the letter up and put it in the envelope he had already written Mike's name on. He put it on his dresser. His mom would make sure Mike got it.
He crawled into bed and took the handful of pills, then put the razor to his wrists. He wasn't taking any chances. Then, slowly, he drifted off to sleep . . . hoping he would never wake up.
He did, however. And in a room he didn't recognize. Nurses, a doctor, his mother wringing her hands and crying.
What the fuck?
Then the door opened and Mike came in. "Is he awake yet?"
Billie's eyes widened. "M-Mike?" Shit. Did he read the note? Fuck. Why didn't it work?
Mike came over to the bed and stared at Billie Joe for a minute. "Selfish bastard." He backhanded him and walked out of the room.
***2005***
Mike closed the letter. He remembered that day. Walking into the hospital after Ollie called him. He hated hospitals. They always smelled weird and the nurses were too fucking nice.
And then Ollie told him what happened. That Billie had tried to overdose on sleeping pills and cut his wrists. He would be fine, but they wanted to know if he knew anything. 'You know him better than I do, Michael.' It was scary when she said that, but it was true.
But Mike didn't know why Billie had done it, just that he had been depressed.
Mike and Billie had never gotten in a physical fight before. Ever. But staring at him in that hospital bed. How could Billie try to leave him? Didn't he know the mess he would leave behind? It probably wasn't the best idea to slap your friend after he tried to commit suicide, but Mike was seventeen. And he was scared out of his fucking mind.
"Billie was in love with me?" he whispered to his bedroom.
He wanted to know what was in those other notebooks.
---
It was easy enough to get the key from Adie. Mike said there was something in the shed he had forgotten to take with him last night when they cleaned it. Billie had taken the boys to do some 'father-son bonding'.
She handed him the key and they exchanged a few minutes worth of conversation. Mike took the entire box of journals home. Adie had said 'the boys' would be gone until that evening. He could have the box back by then. He was sure not all of them were suicidal love notes.
---
I'm sick of the waiting and all the bullshit
I'm sick of wearing this smile, this lie
I don't want to tell you I'm fine anymore
I want to tell you the truth
But I'm terrified
I hate the smile on your face when you're with her
And the way you never look at me that way
I hate the way you don't have to worry about all this shit
The way that I worry every day
But I can't hate you and I can't love you
Because you'd never love me back
And if I told you how I felt
It ended there, leaving Mike completely unsatisfied. He turned the page and found a few scribbled paragraphs. Billie hadn't bothered with capitals, punctuation, or spelling. That happened when he was pissed.
shes a fucking slut i hate her and i hate it when she touches him she puts her hands all over him and i cant do anything because hes not fucking mine goddammit!!!!!!!!!
she gets this stupid grin on her face like she knows exactly what im thinking and she grabs his ass and kisses him and then smirks at me because i know she knows what im thinking and if she told him
she wouldnt tell him would she oh my god what if she did and then he hated me and hes going to hate me and then ill just die ill just fucking die
I HATE MY FUCKING LIFE!!!!!!
Billie had pressed so hard with his pen for the last sentence that the ink actually bled through and onto the next page. Mike blinked for a few seconds. 'She' had been Teresa Donovan. He had never been able to figure out exactly why Billie hated her so much. Mike had dumped her, of course. She wasn't anything special and Billie Joe wasn't speaking to him.
Just listen to me please
I know you hate me but just listen
I'm not like that okay, I'm not
I don't want to like him
I don't want to like guys
But if you would just stop saying 'fag' for one fucking minute
You're not even my dad
I don't know why I care what you think
But everytime I fucking yell at you she cries
And I hate you for it
Why can't you just die
But can't you just stop calling me a fag?
Billie's stepdad had liked calling Billie a fag, especially when he grew his hair out and got the piercings and he found out Billie kissed boys at their gigs. Billie came to Mike's house with a black eye over a fight once. "I'm not." he'd whisper over and over, as if willing the words to be true. "I know." Mike would say back, not entirely sure if it was the right thing to say.
Deep cuts, slashes on my wrist
And the blood comes rolling down
Dark against my skin
I stare through heavy lids at it
It pools and drips onto the floor
Leaving little red dots across the linoleum
It feels kind of good after I wash it
The razor blade clatters against the sink
What the fuck would they say if they knew?
Mike had to wipe tears away. He knew it had happened forever ago, but he never knew Billie was in that much pain, at least on a concious level. He always knew Billie was dramatic with his emotions. He never did anything half-assed. If he was happy, he was through the fucking roof happy. He was bouncing on his feet and grinning and chainsmoking. And if he was upset, he was thorougly depressed, refusing to speak or even look up from an ever-present notebook.
He threw that notebook back in the box and pulled out another one. 1994. He was with Adie then. He knew there was probably nothing about him in it, but he opened it anyway. The first page had '2000 Lightyears Away' scribbled on it and the next ones had some songs that hadn't recorded. Not that far into the notebook, however, he found his name.
I'm married for fuck's sake. I'm married to a woman and she's pregnant, but I can't fucking stop thinking about Mike. It's like his head keeps popping into my head at all the wrong times. I don't want it to, but it's not like you can just fall out of love with someone.
And I love Adie. I do. I love her so much it hurts. But I love Mike, too. This whole thing is just so fucked up.
Mike wondered briefly how he missed this for so long. 1994 was still eleven years ago, though. Somehow he knew it didn't end then.
Pulled in two different directions
Two different paths with unmarked destinations
One is easy and the other is hard
One covered in cement, the other is dark
And you don't know which way to go
It's hard to follow and hard to lead
You can't turn back and you can't change your mind
But you can't just stand there and wait
So you give in, you take the easy way out
But you just never know
Mike didn't even notice his clock as the hours slipped by. The notebooks never made it passed 1998, but he was mentioned in every one of them.
1995
It's just a test, true or false
Two chances, fifty-fifty
Pass or fail
And even when it's multiple choice
There's still four answers
And you try so hard to just scrape a pass
Not to fail at this test
It's so much more important than any other
And you've got more people to please now
It's not just your ass on the line and you play connect the dots
It's not just a grade you can throw away
It's life.
God fucking dammit.
Mike or Adie?
1996
I've got these breaths stuck in my throat
I can't breathe and I can't think
Not of anything but you
And there's so much more I've got to do
I've got a life and a family
And then there's you
I've got so much riding on this
I can't just give in now
There's these feelings I've felt forever
God, I can't just push them away and forget
But it's so hard to remember
1997
I hate you. If you die, I don't care. You've got to get out of my thoughts. If you would just go away then I could cope with this. I wouldn't have to try and fight off these urges everyday. It's not fucking fair to anyone, including you. I can't keep doing this.
I love you, but this has to stop. Can it stop while I'm still breathing?
1998
Here's another rung we add
To this ladder we help to build
And as I add this rung to it
Another disappears
It's seems the higher I try to go
The closer I am to the ground
I make so much effort to try and remain
But I just keep getting pulled down
I've got someone coming into this world
And I've got to keep in control
But I've got someone tugging
And he's already here
And he's spinning me out of control.
Mike heard his front door open and he sat up. Within seconds, Billie Joe had thrown Mike's bedroom door open, his eyes the darkest Mike had ever seen them. "Billie, I--"
Billie knocked the notebook out of Mike's hands and grabbed him by his shirt collar, slamming him against the headboard of his own bed. "You had no right, none, to go through those. I kept them in a box for a fucking reason, Mike. Some things you don't go fucking around with, you bastard."
"Billie--"
"I don't want to hear anything you've got to say, understand? Not now. Not ever." He let go of Mike and threw all the journals back into the box, then hoisted it into his arms.
This was it. His last chance, now or never. "Billie, I love you, too."
The dark haired man froze at the door. "Don't you ever say that to me again."
"I mean it."
"No, you don't."
"I do, Billie Joe."
Billie turned. "I don't hate you. I never could. Tomorrow we'll act like nothing happened. But if you ever say anything like that to me again, it's over. I've been coping with this for sixteen years. I don't need you to throw any extra bullshit into the mix."
Mike stood up and knocked the box out of Billie's arms, pulling the smaller man to him for a mind-numbing kiss.
"Stop it!"
"If you're just going to forget about it tomorrow, Billie, you can at least have tonight."
"It's not that easy."
Mike nodded sadly. "I know." He kissed Billie's temple, inhaling the scent of his best friend. "But neither's hiding this for so long. You can at least forget about hiding it for tonight."
"I-I can't. I'm married, Mike."
And Billie pushed away, with all the emotional strength he had and not nearly enough of the physical. He pointed at the box. "Bring those by tomorrow."
"I will."
It ended like that. One kiss, one confession. Billie would never cheat. Billie would never forsake his family. Billie would keep tumbling in a game with himself. A game of hiding everything and hating himself.
Billie would play his game until one morning Mike would wake up to find him dead in his hotel room, succeeding where he had failed in 1989.
I'm killing myself because there's no way out. It's so fucking dark in this hole I dug and I just want the darkness to go away. I want everything to go away. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want anything.
I just want to die.
I love you.
Love,
Billie Joe
Mike snorted and opened a box. "She's got a point. Shit, Billie. How did you manage to fill up so many notebooks?" He knew the answer. It was hypothetical. However, Billie didn't put his notebooks in storage. He had at least three chests in the den for those.
"Notebooks?" Billie threw the lamp he had been poking onto the ground and walked over to the book. He flipped one open and read the date. "1989. Shit, we were..." He did the sum in his head. "We were 17 then. Wow."
He looked at what he had written on April 2, 1989.
I'm sick of the waiting and all the bullshit
I'm sick of wearing this smile, this lie
I don't want to tell you I'm fine anymore
I want to tell you the truth
But I'm terrified
A song without music. There was more, but Billie didn't want to read it. He slammed the notebook shut and put it back in the box. "I hated 1989."
"You did not." Mike said. A letter had fluttered from the notebook, but he didn't say anything. However, when Billie turned his back and moved toward the back of the shed, he picked it up and put it in his pocket. It did have his name on it, after all.
Then Mike found a box of clothes from 1988 and they spent a good half hour laughing about what fashion rejects they used to be. "You haven't gotten much better." Mike teased his best friend after Billie had decided he couldn't throw any of that out either.
It took two hours to go through everything and Billie five minutes to decide he couldn't throw anything away but the lamp he broke.
"What's Adie going to think of that?" Mike asked as they walked back up to the house.
Billie shrugged. "If she wants a shed that badly, I'll just build her one."
"What are you going to do when she wants you to clear out the attic?" Mike pointed out.
"Get her drunk until she forgets about it."
---
Mike waited until about midnight to read the letter. He tried to guilt trip himself into not doing it. He obviously didn't want me to read it if he kept it in a notebook for twenty-four years.
It's got your name on it.
"I'm not schizo." Mike said to no one in particular and slowly slit the envelope open.
Billie's handwriting was terrible. And if Mike hadn't spent years relearning how to read it, he never would have been able to. Not to mention the letter was full of cross-outs and the ink was over twenty-years old.
Mike,
I don't know how to say this, so I'll just come right out and tell you. I'm bi. Well, you know that. But do you remember that one time when we were in about the eighth grade and we taught each other how to kiss? Because you wanted to date that one girl and you didn't know, so I said I'd teach you. Do you remember that?
Well, I can't get it out of my head. And then you got drunk at that party and kissed me last year. And I kissed you at the show. I know you thought that was just because I couldn't find any guy worth kissing in the crowd, but it wasn't. I thought you might be able to tell.
But you couldn't. It's okay. I'm not mad or anything. I don't blame you.
You know how you always said I could bullshit my way out of anything? Well, I'm trying that right now. Mike, I love you. I think I've been in love with you since that first time we kissed back in junior high. Maybe that wasn't it, but I know I'm in love with you now.
And it hurts so bad because I know you'll never love me back. I lay awake every night and think about you. I fucking jerk off to you, Mike. And sometimes I hurt myself. Because I know you don't love me back. Why would you? You're straight.
I know that I'm depressed all the time. You keep asking about it. I know it's making everyone else's life harder. And you're worried. You shouldn't be. You're only seventeen. Hell, I'm only seventeen. But seventeen year olds shouldn't have to worry about each other...
***1989***
Billie looked at the table by his bed and kind of gave a sad smile before returning to his letter.
'So, I'm going to end it. I know it'll probably hurt for awhile, but you'll get over it. Don't worry. It won't hurt that bad. It'll all be over soon. I won't suffer, Mike.
I just wanted you to know before I did it. I wanted you to know how much I love you.
But I'm not killing myself because of you. Don't think that. I know it'll just make you go crazy if you do. I'm killing myself because there's no way out. It's so fucking dark in this hole I dug and I just want the darkness to go away. I want everything to go away. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want anything.
I just want to die.
I love you.
Love,
Billie Joe'
Billie folded the letter up and put it in the envelope he had already written Mike's name on. He put it on his dresser. His mom would make sure Mike got it.
He crawled into bed and took the handful of pills, then put the razor to his wrists. He wasn't taking any chances. Then, slowly, he drifted off to sleep . . . hoping he would never wake up.
He did, however. And in a room he didn't recognize. Nurses, a doctor, his mother wringing her hands and crying.
What the fuck?
Then the door opened and Mike came in. "Is he awake yet?"
Billie's eyes widened. "M-Mike?" Shit. Did he read the note? Fuck. Why didn't it work?
Mike came over to the bed and stared at Billie Joe for a minute. "Selfish bastard." He backhanded him and walked out of the room.
***2005***
Mike closed the letter. He remembered that day. Walking into the hospital after Ollie called him. He hated hospitals. They always smelled weird and the nurses were too fucking nice.
And then Ollie told him what happened. That Billie had tried to overdose on sleeping pills and cut his wrists. He would be fine, but they wanted to know if he knew anything. 'You know him better than I do, Michael.' It was scary when she said that, but it was true.
But Mike didn't know why Billie had done it, just that he had been depressed.
Mike and Billie had never gotten in a physical fight before. Ever. But staring at him in that hospital bed. How could Billie try to leave him? Didn't he know the mess he would leave behind? It probably wasn't the best idea to slap your friend after he tried to commit suicide, but Mike was seventeen. And he was scared out of his fucking mind.
"Billie was in love with me?" he whispered to his bedroom.
He wanted to know what was in those other notebooks.
---
It was easy enough to get the key from Adie. Mike said there was something in the shed he had forgotten to take with him last night when they cleaned it. Billie had taken the boys to do some 'father-son bonding'.
She handed him the key and they exchanged a few minutes worth of conversation. Mike took the entire box of journals home. Adie had said 'the boys' would be gone until that evening. He could have the box back by then. He was sure not all of them were suicidal love notes.
---
I'm sick of the waiting and all the bullshit
I'm sick of wearing this smile, this lie
I don't want to tell you I'm fine anymore
I want to tell you the truth
But I'm terrified
I hate the smile on your face when you're with her
And the way you never look at me that way
I hate the way you don't have to worry about all this shit
The way that I worry every day
But I can't hate you and I can't love you
Because you'd never love me back
And if I told you how I felt
It ended there, leaving Mike completely unsatisfied. He turned the page and found a few scribbled paragraphs. Billie hadn't bothered with capitals, punctuation, or spelling. That happened when he was pissed.
shes a fucking slut i hate her and i hate it when she touches him she puts her hands all over him and i cant do anything because hes not fucking mine goddammit!!!!!!!!!
she gets this stupid grin on her face like she knows exactly what im thinking and she grabs his ass and kisses him and then smirks at me because i know she knows what im thinking and if she told him
she wouldnt tell him would she oh my god what if she did and then he hated me and hes going to hate me and then ill just die ill just fucking die
I HATE MY FUCKING LIFE!!!!!!
Billie had pressed so hard with his pen for the last sentence that the ink actually bled through and onto the next page. Mike blinked for a few seconds. 'She' had been Teresa Donovan. He had never been able to figure out exactly why Billie hated her so much. Mike had dumped her, of course. She wasn't anything special and Billie Joe wasn't speaking to him.
Just listen to me please
I know you hate me but just listen
I'm not like that okay, I'm not
I don't want to like him
I don't want to like guys
But if you would just stop saying 'fag' for one fucking minute
You're not even my dad
I don't know why I care what you think
But everytime I fucking yell at you she cries
And I hate you for it
Why can't you just die
But can't you just stop calling me a fag?
Billie's stepdad had liked calling Billie a fag, especially when he grew his hair out and got the piercings and he found out Billie kissed boys at their gigs. Billie came to Mike's house with a black eye over a fight once. "I'm not." he'd whisper over and over, as if willing the words to be true. "I know." Mike would say back, not entirely sure if it was the right thing to say.
Deep cuts, slashes on my wrist
And the blood comes rolling down
Dark against my skin
I stare through heavy lids at it
It pools and drips onto the floor
Leaving little red dots across the linoleum
It feels kind of good after I wash it
The razor blade clatters against the sink
What the fuck would they say if they knew?
Mike had to wipe tears away. He knew it had happened forever ago, but he never knew Billie was in that much pain, at least on a concious level. He always knew Billie was dramatic with his emotions. He never did anything half-assed. If he was happy, he was through the fucking roof happy. He was bouncing on his feet and grinning and chainsmoking. And if he was upset, he was thorougly depressed, refusing to speak or even look up from an ever-present notebook.
He threw that notebook back in the box and pulled out another one. 1994. He was with Adie then. He knew there was probably nothing about him in it, but he opened it anyway. The first page had '2000 Lightyears Away' scribbled on it and the next ones had some songs that hadn't recorded. Not that far into the notebook, however, he found his name.
I'm married for fuck's sake. I'm married to a woman and she's pregnant, but I can't fucking stop thinking about Mike. It's like his head keeps popping into my head at all the wrong times. I don't want it to, but it's not like you can just fall out of love with someone.
And I love Adie. I do. I love her so much it hurts. But I love Mike, too. This whole thing is just so fucked up.
Mike wondered briefly how he missed this for so long. 1994 was still eleven years ago, though. Somehow he knew it didn't end then.
Pulled in two different directions
Two different paths with unmarked destinations
One is easy and the other is hard
One covered in cement, the other is dark
And you don't know which way to go
It's hard to follow and hard to lead
You can't turn back and you can't change your mind
But you can't just stand there and wait
So you give in, you take the easy way out
But you just never know
Mike didn't even notice his clock as the hours slipped by. The notebooks never made it passed 1998, but he was mentioned in every one of them.
1995
It's just a test, true or false
Two chances, fifty-fifty
Pass or fail
And even when it's multiple choice
There's still four answers
And you try so hard to just scrape a pass
Not to fail at this test
It's so much more important than any other
And you've got more people to please now
It's not just your ass on the line and you play connect the dots
It's not just a grade you can throw away
It's life.
God fucking dammit.
Mike or Adie?
1996
I've got these breaths stuck in my throat
I can't breathe and I can't think
Not of anything but you
And there's so much more I've got to do
I've got a life and a family
And then there's you
I've got so much riding on this
I can't just give in now
There's these feelings I've felt forever
God, I can't just push them away and forget
But it's so hard to remember
1997
I hate you. If you die, I don't care. You've got to get out of my thoughts. If you would just go away then I could cope with this. I wouldn't have to try and fight off these urges everyday. It's not fucking fair to anyone, including you. I can't keep doing this.
I love you, but this has to stop. Can it stop while I'm still breathing?
1998
Here's another rung we add
To this ladder we help to build
And as I add this rung to it
Another disappears
It's seems the higher I try to go
The closer I am to the ground
I make so much effort to try and remain
But I just keep getting pulled down
I've got someone coming into this world
And I've got to keep in control
But I've got someone tugging
And he's already here
And he's spinning me out of control.
Mike heard his front door open and he sat up. Within seconds, Billie Joe had thrown Mike's bedroom door open, his eyes the darkest Mike had ever seen them. "Billie, I--"
Billie knocked the notebook out of Mike's hands and grabbed him by his shirt collar, slamming him against the headboard of his own bed. "You had no right, none, to go through those. I kept them in a box for a fucking reason, Mike. Some things you don't go fucking around with, you bastard."
"Billie--"
"I don't want to hear anything you've got to say, understand? Not now. Not ever." He let go of Mike and threw all the journals back into the box, then hoisted it into his arms.
This was it. His last chance, now or never. "Billie, I love you, too."
The dark haired man froze at the door. "Don't you ever say that to me again."
"I mean it."
"No, you don't."
"I do, Billie Joe."
Billie turned. "I don't hate you. I never could. Tomorrow we'll act like nothing happened. But if you ever say anything like that to me again, it's over. I've been coping with this for sixteen years. I don't need you to throw any extra bullshit into the mix."
Mike stood up and knocked the box out of Billie's arms, pulling the smaller man to him for a mind-numbing kiss.
"Stop it!"
"If you're just going to forget about it tomorrow, Billie, you can at least have tonight."
"It's not that easy."
Mike nodded sadly. "I know." He kissed Billie's temple, inhaling the scent of his best friend. "But neither's hiding this for so long. You can at least forget about hiding it for tonight."
"I-I can't. I'm married, Mike."
And Billie pushed away, with all the emotional strength he had and not nearly enough of the physical. He pointed at the box. "Bring those by tomorrow."
"I will."
It ended like that. One kiss, one confession. Billie would never cheat. Billie would never forsake his family. Billie would keep tumbling in a game with himself. A game of hiding everything and hating himself.
Billie would play his game until one morning Mike would wake up to find him dead in his hotel room, succeeding where he had failed in 1989.
I'm killing myself because there's no way out. It's so fucking dark in this hole I dug and I just want the darkness to go away. I want everything to go away. I don't want to feel anymore. I don't want anything.
I just want to die.
I love you.
Love,
Billie Joe