Sequel: Alkaline Eyes ›
Lithium Kisses
The Fall of a Saint
A/N: Two more chapters left for all of you guys after this one. I might write a sequel called "Alkaline Eyes", if people like this one a lot. :)
Billie Joe gazed at me with such love in his eyes. Had he felt this way the entire time? But...I couldn't be with him. It wasn't meant to be. Billie Joe was a guy, and I am a lesbian. No exceptions. I gently pushed him away from me. A sad, heart-broken expression grew on his face. He bowed his head. "But the feeling isn't mutual, is it?" Billie Joe asked solemnly. I shook my head. Well, I couldn't lie about these things, could I? "So, my fucking efforts to try and show you how much I care mean nothing to you?" Billie said with a large amount of hurt in his voice.
"Of course they mean a lot to me. But I'm not straight." I explained calmly. Billie Joe rolled his eyes, picked up a beer that was sitting by the rail of the balcony. He chugged half of it in two gulps. "Do you have to get drunk every damn night?" I snapped.
Billie Joe glared at me for a moment, before chucking the bottle over the railing. It smashed straight into the Washington monument, which crumbled instantly. Clinton would be ashamed. "Don't fucking judge me. I'm not the only who hacks up any old motherfucker on the street and sends them to Africa. I'm fucking tame compared to you." He snarled while cracking open another beer. A wild look was in his eyes. "What the fuck was I to you?!" Billie Joe was beginning to look more and more irate with each passing second.
"A friend...one of the best things that has ever happened to me." I said. And it was true. Green Day had made my wildest dreams come true. I owed them part of my nonexistent soul. Billie Joe chugged more of his beer. "But unlike you, I'm actually getting shit down in this country. All you do is wheel around in the oval office in your underwear. I fixed world fucking hunger." I snapped, remembering how much of an ass Billie Joe was being. He whirled around and threw the beer bottle straight at me. I ducked, and it shattered into a million 1 little pieces.
"Fine, then. Fuck you." Billie Joe shouted before stomping off. I ran after him and shoved him. He whirled around and pinned me up against the wall. "So you're gonna fucking come after me then. You know what you are to me? You're just a pair of tits, that's it." Billie Joe hissed. He then gave me a rough kiss and stomped off inside. I sunk to the ground sobbing. Why would Billie Joe do that to me? I was the prez, he should fucking respect me. I'm the reason Green Day famous!
In the end, I dragged my broken hearted body to my room and tried to sleep. At around 2 AM, I heard a strange sound and awoke instantly. What the fucking fuck? There were no lights on in my room, only the ominous glow of the moon peeking through the curtains. There was a strange dripping sound somewhere in the distance. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and yawned objectively. Tre better not have overfilled the bathtub again. His swimming classes for people's hamsters were getting him lots of profit, but it was still annoying as fuck. I plodded over the bathroom.
"Goddamn it Tre, why do I have be the one to babysit you? Tre? Oh, you're not here." Tre wasn't there. I remembered, he had been put into a private institution after he went into such a state of shock after Mr. Ham-Ham died. The bathtub was half-filled, with beer bottles floating in them. There was a phrase written on the wall in what looked like blood that read My heart is beating from me. I am standing all alone. Please call me only if you are coming home. Waste another year flies by, waste a night or two. You taught me how to live." There were bits of blood speckled on the floor, and they were leading out of the room. I followed them closely.
I gasped in horror because there was another similarly written phrase right by the side of the bed I was sleeping in. This one read. "In the crowd of pain, St. Jimmy comes without any shame. He says, “We're fucked up but we're not the same." " I didn't understand any of this. Was this Mike's way of telling me to fuck off? More bits of blood. I followed once again, like a raccoon on crack. They led to the glass door which led to the balcony. Another phrase. "Jimmy died today. He blew his brains out into the bay. In the states of mind, It's my own private suicide" And more beer bottles littered around. My mind was exploding with a mixture of curiosity, and grotesque fascination. I cautiously opened the door.
It didn't seem as if anything bad had happened. Billie Joe was leaning on the railing with his back to me. He had his head resting peacefully in his arms. I ran up to him, hoping that he would apologize for the stupidity that he had so graciously fucking casued earlier. "Billie Joe, what's up?" I said in a friendly manner. Billie Joe didn't respond. I walked up to him and nudged him. Still no response. I violently shook him. He fell to the ground, with his eyes wide open and a gaping head wound. There was a large pistol laying on his chest. He wasn't breathing. I tried to give him CPR, but it sadly did nothing. Billie Joe was fucking dead. Dead. I didn't understand. He had a great life, why would he kill himself? Only I had that kind of privilege because I had lost Pandora, only I could kill myself.
I fell to the ground sobbing for what was like hours. Members of congress found me hours later. I apparently had something super important to intend to. I flipped them off. There was pretty much nothing for me to live for anymore. Why should I help the US now? It could die for all I cared.
Billie Joe gazed at me with such love in his eyes. Had he felt this way the entire time? But...I couldn't be with him. It wasn't meant to be. Billie Joe was a guy, and I am a lesbian. No exceptions. I gently pushed him away from me. A sad, heart-broken expression grew on his face. He bowed his head. "But the feeling isn't mutual, is it?" Billie Joe asked solemnly. I shook my head. Well, I couldn't lie about these things, could I? "So, my fucking efforts to try and show you how much I care mean nothing to you?" Billie said with a large amount of hurt in his voice.
"Of course they mean a lot to me. But I'm not straight." I explained calmly. Billie Joe rolled his eyes, picked up a beer that was sitting by the rail of the balcony. He chugged half of it in two gulps. "Do you have to get drunk every damn night?" I snapped.
Billie Joe glared at me for a moment, before chucking the bottle over the railing. It smashed straight into the Washington monument, which crumbled instantly. Clinton would be ashamed. "Don't fucking judge me. I'm not the only who hacks up any old motherfucker on the street and sends them to Africa. I'm fucking tame compared to you." He snarled while cracking open another beer. A wild look was in his eyes. "What the fuck was I to you?!" Billie Joe was beginning to look more and more irate with each passing second.
"A friend...one of the best things that has ever happened to me." I said. And it was true. Green Day had made my wildest dreams come true. I owed them part of my nonexistent soul. Billie Joe chugged more of his beer. "But unlike you, I'm actually getting shit down in this country. All you do is wheel around in the oval office in your underwear. I fixed world fucking hunger." I snapped, remembering how much of an ass Billie Joe was being. He whirled around and threw the beer bottle straight at me. I ducked, and it shattered into a million 1 little pieces.
"Fine, then. Fuck you." Billie Joe shouted before stomping off. I ran after him and shoved him. He whirled around and pinned me up against the wall. "So you're gonna fucking come after me then. You know what you are to me? You're just a pair of tits, that's it." Billie Joe hissed. He then gave me a rough kiss and stomped off inside. I sunk to the ground sobbing. Why would Billie Joe do that to me? I was the prez, he should fucking respect me. I'm the reason Green Day famous!
In the end, I dragged my broken hearted body to my room and tried to sleep. At around 2 AM, I heard a strange sound and awoke instantly. What the fucking fuck? There were no lights on in my room, only the ominous glow of the moon peeking through the curtains. There was a strange dripping sound somewhere in the distance. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and yawned objectively. Tre better not have overfilled the bathtub again. His swimming classes for people's hamsters were getting him lots of profit, but it was still annoying as fuck. I plodded over the bathroom.
"Goddamn it Tre, why do I have be the one to babysit you? Tre? Oh, you're not here." Tre wasn't there. I remembered, he had been put into a private institution after he went into such a state of shock after Mr. Ham-Ham died. The bathtub was half-filled, with beer bottles floating in them. There was a phrase written on the wall in what looked like blood that read My heart is beating from me. I am standing all alone. Please call me only if you are coming home. Waste another year flies by, waste a night or two. You taught me how to live." There were bits of blood speckled on the floor, and they were leading out of the room. I followed them closely.
I gasped in horror because there was another similarly written phrase right by the side of the bed I was sleeping in. This one read. "In the crowd of pain, St. Jimmy comes without any shame. He says, “We're fucked up but we're not the same." " I didn't understand any of this. Was this Mike's way of telling me to fuck off? More bits of blood. I followed once again, like a raccoon on crack. They led to the glass door which led to the balcony. Another phrase. "Jimmy died today. He blew his brains out into the bay. In the states of mind, It's my own private suicide" And more beer bottles littered around. My mind was exploding with a mixture of curiosity, and grotesque fascination. I cautiously opened the door.
It didn't seem as if anything bad had happened. Billie Joe was leaning on the railing with his back to me. He had his head resting peacefully in his arms. I ran up to him, hoping that he would apologize for the stupidity that he had so graciously fucking casued earlier. "Billie Joe, what's up?" I said in a friendly manner. Billie Joe didn't respond. I walked up to him and nudged him. Still no response. I violently shook him. He fell to the ground, with his eyes wide open and a gaping head wound. There was a large pistol laying on his chest. He wasn't breathing. I tried to give him CPR, but it sadly did nothing. Billie Joe was fucking dead. Dead. I didn't understand. He had a great life, why would he kill himself? Only I had that kind of privilege because I had lost Pandora, only I could kill myself.
I fell to the ground sobbing for what was like hours. Members of congress found me hours later. I apparently had something super important to intend to. I flipped them off. There was pretty much nothing for me to live for anymore. Why should I help the US now? It could die for all I cared.