Shine a Light
The Deathbed Bride
Okay so I could sit here and write a bag of trash about how Billie followed his band mates through the door that Mike had just emerged from and fall gracefully to his knees, kiss my hands and tell me that he loves me too. But it didn’t happen. I was left with a big lump of regret in the back of my throat at how I had so easily sprung those three words from my tongue and he had not said one word to me since.
A huge group of people emerged from that very door and clotted down the corridor after Mike and Gerard like a herd of cows. I watched them intently, chattering and laughing away wondering if Billie was hiding himself amongst the centre of the group to prevent having to speak to me. If he was anything like me I would have run a mile if someone had said that to me out of the blue, so I didn’t blame him.
“I hope you’re thinking about me”
I turned to see him, all smiles and sweaty shirt. His addictive grin smacking me in the face,
“Yes actually. I was thinking how could you possibly get any sweater?”
Billie chuckled moving the towel he was clutching to skim along his forehead, “Its all for an amazing performance if I don’t say so myself.”
“Oh but you did…and it was” I grinned back at him.
“Come on, we need to talk” he grabbed my hand and pulled me down the corridor, jerking left to avoid the crowd and diving into a room with
BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG stuck on the front of the door.
The room had a huge mirror on one wall with a desk that was littered with hair products, general food junk, a bouquet of flowers and a suspicious looking teddy bear. In the corner sat a small round table and three chairs. There was a box of beer at the foot of one of the table legs and it cried out for me to make it just one beer lighter.
Billie, having read my mind made his way over to the box, ripped the cardboard open and handed me a corona.
“Thanks” I grinned as I caught the cold bottle and the bottle opener that Billie also decided to chuck at me.
“Sit down” He smiled watching me sit cautiously on the small white chair as he pulled himself up onto the ledge in front of the mirror.
A silence erupted as we both sipped at our beers, Billie swinging his legs like a lost little child.
“So…” he smiled at me, his lips popping as he broke their seal from around the beer.
“About before…”
“Did it freak you out? I’m sorry, it freaked me out, big time and now…” I blurted out, word vomit, everything coming out at once; I blushed as he chuckled at me.
“It didn’t freak me out; it’s the reason that I gave the best show ever for a long time.” He looked down at his swinging feet, his trousers pulled up to reveal black and red stripy socks. It finally clicked, Billie Joe Armstrong was Dennis the Menace, he was a twelve year old boy. What the hell was I nervous about?
“It felt good singing Vera without having the feeling of scalpels swimming through my intestine.” He looked back up at me slowly, the curtain of black hair revealing his dazzling green eyes, my toes curled as his pupils revolved to mine.
“Did you still name that song after me? Even after everything that happened?” I asked mouth slightly open in shock.
“Yeah of course. I keep my promises, I promise you that.” He smiled, looking at me with sad eyes.
“What are we going to do about this mess?” I sighed, my arm reaching out and finding the table to lean on.
Billie supped from his beer again, “I don’t know.”
“Do you ever read anything by John Wilmot?” I looked up at his words.
“Are you talking about Charles 2nd John Wilmot?” I frowned slightly at him. It was a long time ago when I read his biography, but from what I could remember he was the biggest sexual pervert ever, a drunken womaniser who ended up dying at 33 from excess drinking that lasted for five years. Why was Billie reading this? Sure they had a few things in common, drink, women, but was he going to try and charm me with a line about dildos?
“Yes that guy, well, he says that men fall three times.”
I frowned deeper at him, bringing my beer up to my lips and listening intently.
“First time, is puppy love, your first love, second is the woman you marry and third…”
I knew this, I finished it off for him, “…third is your deathbed bride.”
He smiled at me, the look in his eyes making my heart skip two beats, “Yes, the woman that you think about in your last dying thoughts.”
“How utterly romantic, but what has this got to do with our situation?” I spat putting my beer to rest on the table for a few seconds.
“Well…” he bit his lip and hesitated, he wasn’t implying that I was…
“You’re my third”
My hand jolted and my beer bottle went flying across the room spraying spit filled corona against the far wall and carpet. Ignoring the stains I stared at Billie with a mixture of emotions that I never thought in this lifetime I would feel.
I loved him for going two steps beyond me and melting me with such a slushy line, I loved him for referencing a pornographic writer; I loved the way he sat on that ledge looking so terrified and agonised as he waited for my answer. I hated him for doing this to me, I wanted to hit him for putting me through all this and above all, I wanted to rip open my ribcage take out my heart and give it to him, because I couldn’t think of anything else that would show him how much I loved him.
He watched me like a cornered deer as I shakily pulled myself from my seat and sat next to him on the ledge.
I turned to face him, our lips inches apart, I didn’t care that he smelt like old feet right now, all I cared about was being here next to him.
“I’m flattered that you’ve put all that responsibility on me…and how ever romantic and however lost we are in this land of mushy love, there is one big problem.”
“The second fall” Billie sighed drawing his face away from mine and looking at his socked –feet.
“Billie it’s impossible, I’m going to get jealous, you’re going to get stressed and hate me, we’ll both feel guilty and why am I even considering doing this? It’s beyond me.”
He sighed again, his arm swinging around my shoulder and bringing me closer so our heads met together softly. My arms folded around his small torso and we both sat in silence, content just to hear our own breathing for a while, holding each other close.
Billie’s throat let out yet another guttural sigh,
“There’s another problem…”
“What’s that?” I asked nuzzling into his neck.
“I can’t live with or without you V.” He arm pulled me in tighter as the words left his lips.
This was too much for me, “Don’t ever quote U2 to me again Billie Joe”
Billie snickered, “Okay, how about Aerosmith? Cause even when I dream of you the sweetest dream will never do.”
“No Aerosmith either.”
“I’m not helping am I?” he laughed harshly.
“Neither am I? It would be so much easier we if sat here chatting shitty 80s love songs to each other.” Billie chuckled,
“What do you suggest we do?”
I looked up at him smiling, “let’s get drunk, it’s easier to think.”
“I was waiting fro you to say that.” Billie laughed, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on my cheek.
He reached for his jacket draped on one of the chairs by the table, both of us ignoring the spilled beer.
“Are you not showering?”
“I’m Billie Joe Armstrong as If smelling of BO would prevent me from doing anything.”
He winked at me as he slid the leather across his arms.
“It may prevent me from doing things” I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
“You’ll be too drunk to care; anyway if I was up to my eyeballs in horse shit you couldn’t resist kissing me.”
“I’d rather kiss the horse to be honest.”
We both chuckled and made for the door, opening it only to find Tre, Mike, Jason, Gerard, some other guy with a pierced lip and another holding a box of Heineken.
They jumped backwards in shock and cringed at us sheep-ily like naughty kids with their hands still in the cookie jar.
Billie and I looked at each other smirking.
“What do you guys think you’re playing at?” Billie smirked back at them.
“We, we…er, were just coming to get you, you know, were going the pub now and…” Tre gabbled fixing the hem of his shirt.
“Yeah, just knocking for you” the guy with the pierced lip jabbed in.
“Since when do you knock with your ears Frankie? You’ll have to show me that one.” Billie spat at him as everyone else laughed.
“Come on then, lets go” Billie sighed, not wanting to break the mood.
Everyone chuckled as we made for the exit.
A huge group of people emerged from that very door and clotted down the corridor after Mike and Gerard like a herd of cows. I watched them intently, chattering and laughing away wondering if Billie was hiding himself amongst the centre of the group to prevent having to speak to me. If he was anything like me I would have run a mile if someone had said that to me out of the blue, so I didn’t blame him.
“I hope you’re thinking about me”
I turned to see him, all smiles and sweaty shirt. His addictive grin smacking me in the face,
“Yes actually. I was thinking how could you possibly get any sweater?”
Billie chuckled moving the towel he was clutching to skim along his forehead, “Its all for an amazing performance if I don’t say so myself.”
“Oh but you did…and it was” I grinned back at him.
“Come on, we need to talk” he grabbed my hand and pulled me down the corridor, jerking left to avoid the crowd and diving into a room with
BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG stuck on the front of the door.
The room had a huge mirror on one wall with a desk that was littered with hair products, general food junk, a bouquet of flowers and a suspicious looking teddy bear. In the corner sat a small round table and three chairs. There was a box of beer at the foot of one of the table legs and it cried out for me to make it just one beer lighter.
Billie, having read my mind made his way over to the box, ripped the cardboard open and handed me a corona.
“Thanks” I grinned as I caught the cold bottle and the bottle opener that Billie also decided to chuck at me.
“Sit down” He smiled watching me sit cautiously on the small white chair as he pulled himself up onto the ledge in front of the mirror.
A silence erupted as we both sipped at our beers, Billie swinging his legs like a lost little child.
“So…” he smiled at me, his lips popping as he broke their seal from around the beer.
“About before…”
“Did it freak you out? I’m sorry, it freaked me out, big time and now…” I blurted out, word vomit, everything coming out at once; I blushed as he chuckled at me.
“It didn’t freak me out; it’s the reason that I gave the best show ever for a long time.” He looked down at his swinging feet, his trousers pulled up to reveal black and red stripy socks. It finally clicked, Billie Joe Armstrong was Dennis the Menace, he was a twelve year old boy. What the hell was I nervous about?
“It felt good singing Vera without having the feeling of scalpels swimming through my intestine.” He looked back up at me slowly, the curtain of black hair revealing his dazzling green eyes, my toes curled as his pupils revolved to mine.
“Did you still name that song after me? Even after everything that happened?” I asked mouth slightly open in shock.
“Yeah of course. I keep my promises, I promise you that.” He smiled, looking at me with sad eyes.
“What are we going to do about this mess?” I sighed, my arm reaching out and finding the table to lean on.
Billie supped from his beer again, “I don’t know.”
“Do you ever read anything by John Wilmot?” I looked up at his words.
“Are you talking about Charles 2nd John Wilmot?” I frowned slightly at him. It was a long time ago when I read his biography, but from what I could remember he was the biggest sexual pervert ever, a drunken womaniser who ended up dying at 33 from excess drinking that lasted for five years. Why was Billie reading this? Sure they had a few things in common, drink, women, but was he going to try and charm me with a line about dildos?
“Yes that guy, well, he says that men fall three times.”
I frowned deeper at him, bringing my beer up to my lips and listening intently.
“First time, is puppy love, your first love, second is the woman you marry and third…”
I knew this, I finished it off for him, “…third is your deathbed bride.”
He smiled at me, the look in his eyes making my heart skip two beats, “Yes, the woman that you think about in your last dying thoughts.”
“How utterly romantic, but what has this got to do with our situation?” I spat putting my beer to rest on the table for a few seconds.
“Well…” he bit his lip and hesitated, he wasn’t implying that I was…
“You’re my third”
My hand jolted and my beer bottle went flying across the room spraying spit filled corona against the far wall and carpet. Ignoring the stains I stared at Billie with a mixture of emotions that I never thought in this lifetime I would feel.
I loved him for going two steps beyond me and melting me with such a slushy line, I loved him for referencing a pornographic writer; I loved the way he sat on that ledge looking so terrified and agonised as he waited for my answer. I hated him for doing this to me, I wanted to hit him for putting me through all this and above all, I wanted to rip open my ribcage take out my heart and give it to him, because I couldn’t think of anything else that would show him how much I loved him.
He watched me like a cornered deer as I shakily pulled myself from my seat and sat next to him on the ledge.
I turned to face him, our lips inches apart, I didn’t care that he smelt like old feet right now, all I cared about was being here next to him.
“I’m flattered that you’ve put all that responsibility on me…and how ever romantic and however lost we are in this land of mushy love, there is one big problem.”
“The second fall” Billie sighed drawing his face away from mine and looking at his socked –feet.
“Billie it’s impossible, I’m going to get jealous, you’re going to get stressed and hate me, we’ll both feel guilty and why am I even considering doing this? It’s beyond me.”
He sighed again, his arm swinging around my shoulder and bringing me closer so our heads met together softly. My arms folded around his small torso and we both sat in silence, content just to hear our own breathing for a while, holding each other close.
Billie’s throat let out yet another guttural sigh,
“There’s another problem…”
“What’s that?” I asked nuzzling into his neck.
“I can’t live with or without you V.” He arm pulled me in tighter as the words left his lips.
This was too much for me, “Don’t ever quote U2 to me again Billie Joe”
Billie snickered, “Okay, how about Aerosmith? Cause even when I dream of you the sweetest dream will never do.”
“No Aerosmith either.”
“I’m not helping am I?” he laughed harshly.
“Neither am I? It would be so much easier we if sat here chatting shitty 80s love songs to each other.” Billie chuckled,
“What do you suggest we do?”
I looked up at him smiling, “let’s get drunk, it’s easier to think.”
“I was waiting fro you to say that.” Billie laughed, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on my cheek.
He reached for his jacket draped on one of the chairs by the table, both of us ignoring the spilled beer.
“Are you not showering?”
“I’m Billie Joe Armstrong as If smelling of BO would prevent me from doing anything.”
He winked at me as he slid the leather across his arms.
“It may prevent me from doing things” I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
“You’ll be too drunk to care; anyway if I was up to my eyeballs in horse shit you couldn’t resist kissing me.”
“I’d rather kiss the horse to be honest.”
We both chuckled and made for the door, opening it only to find Tre, Mike, Jason, Gerard, some other guy with a pierced lip and another holding a box of Heineken.
They jumped backwards in shock and cringed at us sheep-ily like naughty kids with their hands still in the cookie jar.
Billie and I looked at each other smirking.
“What do you guys think you’re playing at?” Billie smirked back at them.
“We, we…er, were just coming to get you, you know, were going the pub now and…” Tre gabbled fixing the hem of his shirt.
“Yeah, just knocking for you” the guy with the pierced lip jabbed in.
“Since when do you knock with your ears Frankie? You’ll have to show me that one.” Billie spat at him as everyone else laughed.
“Come on then, lets go” Billie sighed, not wanting to break the mood.
Everyone chuckled as we made for the exit.