Mantra of Lies

“Bill. Billie. Billie Joe.”

Mike's voice wafted over Billie's foggy brain as his eyes slowly opened to a living room. He recognized the beige walls and the white carpeted floors. He was at Mike's, as always. He was strewn over a plush beige sofa, as always. He gave a mental groan that leaked slowly out of his throat.

He had only a vague re-collection of last night, but he did recall a lot of booze and, as he spotted one, two, and even three discarded cigarette packets, a lot of smoking. Things hadn't been going well since his divorce with Adrienne, and even though he knew that his constant attachment to alcohol was to blame for their separation, he just couldn't find another way to get away from his haunted thought of 80.

“Billie, do you want some aspirin, or something?” Mike asked.

“You woke me up just to ask me if I needed some fucking aspirin?” Billie heard himself say, before turning over to face the cushions. “If you didn't wake me up, I wouldn't need some.”

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “You've been passed out for nearly 12 hours, for the record. It's 4 in the afternoon, that's why I woke you up, but do you need some aspirin anyway? I can get you whatever, you know.” There was a hint of something that Billie detected. A bit of worry, a bit of sympathy, even. He detested any type of pity, he didn't need it. Even from his mom. Even from Adie.

“Whatever.” Billie said sullenly into the cushion. “I don't care. I'm going back to sleep.”

“Okay, then”. Mike took a seat on the sofa opposite to Billie's. “If this won't wake you up, nothing will. I've talked to Tre. We both think we have something to tell you.”

“Go ahead then,” Billie continued with his monotonous tone. He forced his brain to work, he really wasn't a “morning” person.

“We both.... we both think that you should drink a bit less.” Mike said in a rush ,as if saying it quicker would make Billie's reaction last longer. It didn't.

“I told you, Mike. I can handle myself. Get off my case.”

“Look, Tre and I are just trying to look out for you. You've been getting trashed every single night. We're worried, and we have a right to be!” Mike rose his voice slightly, his arms twitching defensively.

“Well stop getting worried, and no one gave you the damn right to be.” Billie snapped, and sat up straight. “I said it once and I'll say it again – I can handle myself. Stop it with the apathy, I'm fine.”

“Of course you are, Bill.” Mike sighed. Passive persuasion, it was called, passive persuasion. “I'm just saying, you know why Adrie - ”

“Shut the fuck up.” Billie Joe's voice, despite having just woken up, cracked across the room. “This isn't about her, this is about us. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine? Stop treating me like I'm goddamn glass, I won't fucking break, you know. And stop exchanging glances with Tre whenever I open a bottle of beer or whatever. You think I don't notice, you think I'm like, wasted all the time - ”

This time he was cut off by Mike again. “That's because you ARE! Count it yourself! How many times have you actually woken up and found yourself in your own bed, without any vomit around you or someone next to you, making sure you don't choke on your puke? You've been passed out on this couch nearly every morning for three months. Three fucking months, Billie Joe Armstrong. Have you forgotten why Adie left you?”

Billie Joe opened his mouth to retaliate, but Mike cut him short. Fuck passive persuasion.

“No, don't talk, Billie Joe.” he said, his voice turning low and serious. “Look, Tre and I were planning on telling you this gently, but we both know what happened last time. Your life fell apart, you nearly turned suicidal when Adrienne left. You have no idea how worried Tre and I have been about you, Billie, you know how you get. You get intoxicated by alcohol, no, not like everyone else but you rely on alcohol too much, Billie. It's all one big cycle Billie, it'll only get worse. Tre and I are trying to help. You need our help.”

“Great, just great.” Billie stared across the room, and grimaced, as Mike got up and started pacing around the oblong coffee table. “First, you bring up my ex-wife. Then, you say I'm a fucking alcoholic. Then you treat me like I'm a suicidal nutcrack who'll blow out my brains any second. And stop telling me what I need, I'm fine. I'm fucking fine. And I fucking told you. Shit happens, it'll pass.”

“It'll pass? It'll pass when, Billie?” Mike scoffed as his 5'10” figure towered over Billie's sitting one. “Last time you said that the arguments between you and Adie would pass, they didn't. Guess why? Because you kept drinking and procrastinating.” Mike stopped for a second and saw Billie Joe's unresponsive face. He sat down on the loveseat opposite to Billie's sofa.

“Think about your kids, Billie.” he said softly, “Think about Joey, think about Jakob. Don't fuck up with them. It's... it's just, they're your kids, Billie Joe. They deserve their father to be there.”

Those words came out too early for Mike to say them. He saw Billie Joe's face harden, and he slapped himself mentally. Fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck shit Mike thought to himself. What he had said may seem innocent enough to any other person, but not to Billie, nor to Mike. You never brought up any hint of Andy Armstrong with Billie, unless it was absolutely necessary. It was hard enough for Billie when Wake Me Up When September Ends was shot as a video, it absolutely killed him every time he sang it live.

Mike half expected Billie to trash his house, finish all the booze that was left (there wasn't much, however). What he didn't prepare himself for, though, was Billie's glistening eyes.

“Billie? Bill?” he said tentatively. He had only seen Billie cry a few times before, Billie normally got too shit faced to cry when he was upset. Every time Mike did see Billie Joe cry, he never wanted again. “I'm sorry man, I didn't mean to - ”

“It's alright. I'm fine. I told you, I'm fine.” Billie said bitterly, and waved Mike's apology away. He closed his eyes on his tears.

A few moments passed before Billie opened his mouth again.

“Do you know what I said when Joey was born?” Billie asked. Mike stayed silent. “He was born a few days before Dad... you know.” Billie's voice cracked, yet he continued. “I remember promising to myself, the first time I held him in the hospital, y'know. I promised to myself that I would always be there for him. No matter what, my kids would always remember their father. I don't really remember my father, I only remember a couple of things and some stories my mom fed me. I told myself that I will know my kids, and they will know me.” He took a second to breath, and shook his head.

“But I don't. I fucked up already, I guess. I haven't seen them in three months. Adie didn't take them away... I guess I just wanted to forget everything about Adie, and the kids were in the package.” A solitary tear ran from his green eyes down his cheek.

“I fucked up already, Mike. I – I just wanted to forget” Billie finally said. And for the first time since Mike had woken him up with an offer for aspirin, Billie's bloodshot eyes with slept in kohl met Mike's.

“I fucked up, Mikey. But I'm fine. I'm fucking fine.”

Billie went on repeating the last two words, like a mantra. Mike knew, that Billie Joe was still trying to convince himself more than anything.

I'm not fine.