Status: Hi, this is my first story here on Mibba, but not my first story ever! If you haven't noticed I absolutely love Green Day. I usually find it kinda weird to read fan fiction about real people but I got an idea in the shower and decided to give it a go. Hope you like it so far. Should I continue?
The Look in His Eyes
Number One
“Where have you been?”
She just stood there unmoving. He yelled at her again.
“Don’t just fucking stand there! Talk!”
“Hey! Mister!” A balding man with dress pants and a sweater scurried over to them. “What the hell are you going on about?”
“Get out of my business.” The shorter man replied, running a hand through his hair once again. It stuck out every which way, and cast long shadows on the sidewalk.
Meanwhile the girl had been getting increasingly impatient, it seemed, and had turned. Glancing back, as if expecting something, she started to slink back into the darkness.
“Get back here, you little shit.”
“Okay, that’s it.” The man with the sweater said, pulling out his bulky cellphone. “I’m calling someone. You sir, are not allowed to talk to her like that.”
“What the fuck! You don’t even know who I am to her!” The messy haired man yelled, rage filling his round face.
“Whoever you are, you can’t do that. But for all I know you could be a rapist! So I’m not taking the chances.”
“Jesus Christ, shut up down there!” A young, shirtless man wearing sweats yelled from a balcony above.
“Hey you, get down here would ya?” The sweater guy yelled. He quickly cut his eyes back to the man beside him, who had the girl by the arm now. She had a defiant look in her eyes, her choppy shoulder length hair swaying.
A few minutes later, the younger guy had come down from his apartment, still shirtless but in a pair of jeans. He looked slightly put out. “What the fuck Chet, what now?”
The balding sweater guy, Chet, managed to remain serious. “There is suspicion here, deep, dark suspicion. I’ve caught one in the act! Rapist! Woman abuser!” His face was getting red with excitement, and his eyes filled with glee.
“What the hell! You didn’t catch me doing anything! I called to her, that’s fucking it!”
“Listen to em’ Anderson! You can’t trust anything he says, I mean, listen to that trash coming out of that mouth.”
The shirtless guy rolled his eyes. Why did he have to have a neighbor like Chet? Always “looking out” for people. He really needed to stay out of other people's shit. The most annoying thing about it though, was the fact that he always got dragged into it. But this time Anderson did think the guy holding the girl’s arm under the street light did look a bit familiar. He had dark, messy hair. He was wearing a wrinkled white shirt, black jeans that sagged slightly, and a studded belt that was pitifully attempting to hold up his jeans.
“Wait a second dude,” Anderson said. “Who are you? You look kinda familiar.”
Chet narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who are ya?”
The third man smirked, his pudgy lips curling. “Well that might be the question to ask before call me something I’m not, now wouldn’t it.”
Chet looked annoyed. Anderson lit up a cigarette and started puffing, looking bored, but slightly interested in knowing who the man was.
“I’m Billie Joe.” And then with hesitation, “Armstrong.”
Chet scowled.
“And because you didn’t ask.” Billie Joe said, the fire building back up in him, “This is Gwen. Now get the fuck away from us, I ain’t doin’ shit.” he turned to the girl. “C’mon baby doll lets go,”
“Hey, hey, hey. Not so fast!” Chet stepped forward. “I know who you are!”
“Yeah. Cause I just told you.” Billie said his expression becoming increasingly impatient and annoyed.
“Your that rockstar dude, and she ain't’ goin’ with you! Besides you reek.”
“Well my band is called Green Day.” Billie said a smirk now on his face, his eyelids half closed. “And you can’t tell me what to do. I’m leaving, and you're not gonna do anything about it.” He gripped Gwen’s arm roughly, and started making his way towards the corner.
“Oh no, no, no you don’t! This ain’t happenin’, you ain’t gettin’ away! She is not going with a rock n’ roll addict!” Chet was barreling towards them now. His dress pants swaying, his sweater sagging.
“Hey man! You better shut up, I’m not doing too great right now okay? My life is going down hill, my career’s turned to shit! I don’t need you a part of it! Just leave me and this girl alone! I don’t even know who the fuck you are, so just go.” Billie turned, and grabbed Gwen by the shoulder, whispering to her, “Don’t pay attention to them boo, it’s okay, you know I’m the good guy.”
He blocked out the yelling as he walked. They turned down a narrow street. Only one street light was on. By now it was dark, and Billie wished it was brighter. He was pissed out of his mind, but now a bit apprehensive, too. Billie Joe wasn’t the street stalking rapist. No, he was afraid he would be the victim. Some shit faced lady would come out of a bar, and rape him just so she could say she had Billie Joe Armstrong’s baby. Like he was some kind of role model. But I’m not, he thought. I fucking suck.
She just stood there unmoving. He yelled at her again.
“Don’t just fucking stand there! Talk!”
“Hey! Mister!” A balding man with dress pants and a sweater scurried over to them. “What the hell are you going on about?”
“Get out of my business.” The shorter man replied, running a hand through his hair once again. It stuck out every which way, and cast long shadows on the sidewalk.
Meanwhile the girl had been getting increasingly impatient, it seemed, and had turned. Glancing back, as if expecting something, she started to slink back into the darkness.
“Get back here, you little shit.”
“Okay, that’s it.” The man with the sweater said, pulling out his bulky cellphone. “I’m calling someone. You sir, are not allowed to talk to her like that.”
“What the fuck! You don’t even know who I am to her!” The messy haired man yelled, rage filling his round face.
“Whoever you are, you can’t do that. But for all I know you could be a rapist! So I’m not taking the chances.”
“Jesus Christ, shut up down there!” A young, shirtless man wearing sweats yelled from a balcony above.
“Hey you, get down here would ya?” The sweater guy yelled. He quickly cut his eyes back to the man beside him, who had the girl by the arm now. She had a defiant look in her eyes, her choppy shoulder length hair swaying.
A few minutes later, the younger guy had come down from his apartment, still shirtless but in a pair of jeans. He looked slightly put out. “What the fuck Chet, what now?”
The balding sweater guy, Chet, managed to remain serious. “There is suspicion here, deep, dark suspicion. I’ve caught one in the act! Rapist! Woman abuser!” His face was getting red with excitement, and his eyes filled with glee.
“What the hell! You didn’t catch me doing anything! I called to her, that’s fucking it!”
“Listen to em’ Anderson! You can’t trust anything he says, I mean, listen to that trash coming out of that mouth.”
The shirtless guy rolled his eyes. Why did he have to have a neighbor like Chet? Always “looking out” for people. He really needed to stay out of other people's shit. The most annoying thing about it though, was the fact that he always got dragged into it. But this time Anderson did think the guy holding the girl’s arm under the street light did look a bit familiar. He had dark, messy hair. He was wearing a wrinkled white shirt, black jeans that sagged slightly, and a studded belt that was pitifully attempting to hold up his jeans.
“Wait a second dude,” Anderson said. “Who are you? You look kinda familiar.”
Chet narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, who are ya?”
The third man smirked, his pudgy lips curling. “Well that might be the question to ask before call me something I’m not, now wouldn’t it.”
Chet looked annoyed. Anderson lit up a cigarette and started puffing, looking bored, but slightly interested in knowing who the man was.
“I’m Billie Joe.” And then with hesitation, “Armstrong.”
Chet scowled.
“And because you didn’t ask.” Billie Joe said, the fire building back up in him, “This is Gwen. Now get the fuck away from us, I ain’t doin’ shit.” he turned to the girl. “C’mon baby doll lets go,”
“Hey, hey, hey. Not so fast!” Chet stepped forward. “I know who you are!”
“Yeah. Cause I just told you.” Billie said his expression becoming increasingly impatient and annoyed.
“Your that rockstar dude, and she ain't’ goin’ with you! Besides you reek.”
“Well my band is called Green Day.” Billie said a smirk now on his face, his eyelids half closed. “And you can’t tell me what to do. I’m leaving, and you're not gonna do anything about it.” He gripped Gwen’s arm roughly, and started making his way towards the corner.
“Oh no, no, no you don’t! This ain’t happenin’, you ain’t gettin’ away! She is not going with a rock n’ roll addict!” Chet was barreling towards them now. His dress pants swaying, his sweater sagging.
“Hey man! You better shut up, I’m not doing too great right now okay? My life is going down hill, my career’s turned to shit! I don’t need you a part of it! Just leave me and this girl alone! I don’t even know who the fuck you are, so just go.” Billie turned, and grabbed Gwen by the shoulder, whispering to her, “Don’t pay attention to them boo, it’s okay, you know I’m the good guy.”
He blocked out the yelling as he walked. They turned down a narrow street. Only one street light was on. By now it was dark, and Billie wished it was brighter. He was pissed out of his mind, but now a bit apprehensive, too. Billie Joe wasn’t the street stalking rapist. No, he was afraid he would be the victim. Some shit faced lady would come out of a bar, and rape him just so she could say she had Billie Joe Armstrong’s baby. Like he was some kind of role model. But I’m not, he thought. I fucking suck.
♠ ♠ ♠
Is it good enough to continue?