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For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

Title: Moments of Clarity: Chapter Three Author: phelsabot Pairing:…

For The Shippers Who Ship Too Much

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Title: Moments of Clarity: Chapter Three
Author: phelsabot
Pairing: Jason White/Billie Joe
Rating: NC-17 [overall]
Disclaimer: The events herein are entirely fictional.
Author’s Notes: Dramatic like a soap opera. ;)

Previous Parts

Chapter Three

Jason visibly jolted as three, hard knocks crashed through the dreamy stupor he’d unwillingly slipped back into. He sat still and cold for a moment. Rap, rap. Quicker.

“Billie.” He gripped the other’s shoulder and shook him gently, already crawling off the bed when Billie stirred dazedly, sucked in a long breath as his head rose off the pillows and turned toward Jason.

Fuck,” He thought aloud, a whispered hiss. Billie sloppily kicked the sheets off his legs, thoughts cycling through him in disoriented waves. He got up and yanked on his boxers as another set of knocks echoed around the silent room, Jason worriedly motioned for him to go into the bathroom, and Billie was gone in an instant.

Jason steadied himself, and crossed in front of the bed, flicking a glance at the closed door of the washroom and visualizing Billie sitting on the countertop waiting.

Billie, from inside, recognized the muffled pattern and weight of the too loud banging to be Mike’s. Everything is fine, everything is fine...

Jason tried to act groggy and found that it came without difficulty. He opened the door and was surprised to see Mike fully dressed, somewhat void of expression and looking thoroughly hung over.

“What‘s going on?” He croaked, squinting into the damn near fluorescent, highly obtrusive light of the hallway.

“Early flight,” Mike said, plainly, though his face wrinkled barely in confusion. “You actually forgot?”

“No,” Jason rubbed a hand over his face as he lied. His sense of time felt so skewed. “What time is it?”

There was a murmuring in the hallway. Mike nodded at someone out of Jason’s view. “It’s around five. People are already heading down to the lobby, so get your shit together. I may have to go hunt Billie down ‘cause no one knows where the fuck he is.”

Christ. Jason felt his blood pike uneasily.

“No, just go down. Don’t worry about it, I’ll grab Bill.” To make the words seem less inconspicuous, even though Mike was too drained to have noticed Jason’s rather abrupt disquiet. “Go get some coffee, man. You’re a total zombie.”

Mike shrugged, smirked at him. Said, “Whatever, man,” and left.

Jason had the door closed for only a second when Billie emerged from the darkened, oval shaped bathroom. “Feels like 2AM, not 5,” Jason grumbled, scraping his clothes from the floor where they had been previously unraveled, unbuttoned and discarded.

He added, “Sorry, Bill. I was actually up for a bit, but I just...I don’t know. I lost track of time, I guess.” He nuzzled into his thin t-shirt, and Billie took his hands before he drifted around the room to grab his other crap.

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize,” Billie murmured, “You always do, and I never know what for.”

They kissed as though trying to draw out time. Jason murmured into Billie’s wet, parted lips, “Last night, it was- you made me feel...” He trailed off, nails curling against Billie’s jaw. They drew back and merely looked, Jason trying noticeably to see something in Billie’s eyes. His thumb settled on Billie’s bottom lip, tracing the line where plump pink met the light shade of his skin.

It became clear that Jason was either looking for him to say something, or nothing at all.

I can’t. I can’t.

Billie gently caught the finger resting on his lips and took it into his mouth instead. After a few seconds Jason withdrew his hand entirely, hooking one arm around the singer’s waist and another over his shoulders so that Billie’s neck fit into the soft crook of his elbow.

Whatever Jason had wanted him to do- to say- he hadn’t shown a flicker, a quiver, a twitch of relief or disappointment. There had been lust in his eyes with Billie’s sultry act following. Billie wasn’t sure if he was entirely happy with what he saw.

They held each other tightly, shared a languid, open-mouthed kiss before Jason whispered into his hair, “I‘ll see you soon. I want to talk to you. I want you to talk to me.” He unlinked himself completely from the other, and tugged on his crumpled pants.

Still vaguely dazed, Billie said, “I want to talk about us. If that’s okay.” He paused, “Not- not now, but um...” Duh, you idiot. It’s time for you to leave.

“Right,” Billie said under his breath, picking up his clothes from the floor and pulling them on. “We’ll talk. I just need...I need to sort out some shit, okay? So just...” Back off? Give me some space? What? You’re the one who initially suggested all of this. You. You’re going to fuck this up.

“We’ll talk,” Jason confirmed, pushing a wet kiss to Billie’s throat, who in turn pulled the second guitarist down into him, nestling there as if he wasn’t ever going to leave. Jason was patient with him. Billie had never encountered such a patient man before. He wondered if his fiancée-

His fiancée. Billie's insides tightened.

“I have to go,” He finally acknowledged aloud, tone almost stricken as he severed himself from Jason and finished snatching up his other belongings scattered about the room.

He paused by the door, one hand resting on the handle as the other fell limp by his side. Jason reached down and squeezed it gently, brought it back up to his lips and kissed the nail of Billie’s middle finger, eyes ghosting over the tiny black heart further down the slender finger. Withdrawing, Billie smiled weakly at him and turned, cracking open the door and peering out through the bright slit into the motionless hallway. He left soundlessly, looking back at Jason.

Jason would stare at the blank, closed door for a moment after it had been shut. He would pack up the rest of his things while muttering ‘fuck’ beneath his breath.


It was late. Mike and Billie were sitting alone together in the substitute ‘living room’ of their tour bus. Tré wasn’t back yet, from wherever he had gone, and the two had immersed themselves in very still, thinly uncomfortable silence for some time now. Billie and Jason hadn’t had a chance to see each other again for nearly a week, through shows and days packed full with rehearsals, interviews, promotions and appearances for their album, Green Day were working harder than they ever had.

There was one lamp on. Mike was beside it, head partly bowed. The severity of the yellow light made the shadows on his face look shaper; eyes black hollows. Mouth set straight as he gazed down into his drink. Then he looked up, lines bending into a new formation. Into a new expression.

Billie was not drunk yet. Even though the slow droop of his features, the glazed quality of his eyes suggested it. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. The after show high had long since dissipated from his body. Eyeliner still smeared beneath his eyes, making him look even more tired than he was. He hadn’t bothered taking it off in the shower.

“Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

Mike’s voice seemed to expand and then fade into nothing, like a nameless sound you hear in the middle of the night. Billie understood after a second.

Is there something going on that I don’t know about?

“No, there’s not.”

Mike tipped his head and sighed. The black line creased along his cheekbone surged upward, while half of his face sank back into obscurity. He looked so surreal.

“Then why don’t I recognize you? Why are you shutting us out again?”

Billie contemplated the question. He wondered how he appeared to Mike right then. He probably looked bleak. The lamplight didn’t quite reach him, so perhaps Mike couldn’t even see his face at all.

He longed to tell Mike all of his secrets. With Jason though, there appeared a very thick wall between them. He had fallen in love with Jason, and Billie couldn’t even fathom what Mike’s response to that would be like. Billie wanted to tell Adrienne, except he didn’t know how.

“I don’t know, Mike. I don’t- I’ve been stressed lately. It hasn’t really, I mean, not yet- it hasn’t affected me onstage but...” he brought his arm up and rested it on the back of the couch, fingers instinctively knotting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He could tell Mike about the dreams, couldn’t he? And what other explanation did he have to give now? Billie didn’t want to tell Mike about them. He already had once, the only other time in his life when they had appeared, right before the inevitably doomed Insomniac tour. He had confided in Mike and the bassist had found him the next day, sitting in the tiny bathtub, soaking cold, staring intently at a razor on the countertop that shivered with the hum of the moving bus. Mike would not forget the image. The way the blades had shone as he’d moved in front of Billie, and how Billie had looked through him. How empty his face had been when Mike crawled into the tub with him, wrapped his arms around his friend.

Billie dragged his line of vision up to meet with Mike’s black eyes. He had encountered every single one of Mike’s looks. He had seen those eyes vibrantly blue, and washed out completely. He had seen them brown with understanding, with anger. He had seen them clear with indefinable happiness. He had seen them an unfathomable black.

“Missing home?” Mike wasn’t entirely expressionless, but Billie didn’t like the way he was being looked at by his friend. Was that why things were so ridiculously tense? He was looking at him like he was a time bomb.

“Yeah, I miss my kids. I miss Adie. I miss her...a lot.”

It wasn’t a lie. Billie’s family was more than everything to him. And as much as he loved coming home during the day, to the open arms of his awaiting family, Billie secretly reveled in arriving back during the night. The wonderfully familiar smell would descend into his senses first, the shoes scattered in the hallway. Everything at peace and as it had always been, tranquil outlines in the darkness. Walking up the stairs after what felt like forever, peeking into his children’s rooms and seeing them. Perfect, asleep, okay. The draft of love and relief and bliss sometimes left him sagged against the doorframe.

Adrienne had always been a light sleeper, and after Billie had stripped off his pants and shirt beside their bed, he would hear the soft crush of the comforter. He would look down and see his wife looking right back at him as if he had never left, looking at him with a disheveled smile that simply made Billie. That smile left him breathless. They wouldn’t say a word to each other; the scoop of Billie’s arms behind her shoulder blades, the deep pressure of his kiss was more than enough.

Billie sank back and let his heart ache. He sank back into the little couch and thought of how weeks prior he had been sprawled across it with Jason’s body binding him there, and he was confused.

Mike was watching him. Billie returned from his thoughts to the quiet. He returned to Mike’s soft words echoing through him, “You’ve been having nightmares again, haven’t you? I’ve heard noises during the night, and it was only until recently that I figured out it was you.”

If Billie had been moving he would have gone completely rigid. Like a deer in headlights. Even though, in the back of his head, he wasn’t really surprised with Mike’s discovery. It was as if saying it aloud had somehow confirmed the fact that Billie had a few problems.

“I thought you were okay. I mean...we all went home, and you went home with your family, and after a couple of months they disappeared completely. It’s been so many years, Bill. Don’t you think it’s strange that it’s happening again.” Very quietly, “Maybe this time you should, you know, get some professional help. I don’t want to find you-” He choked off the sentence, let it dissolve into a cough.

Billie blinked a few times, tried not to shift in discomfort. Mike had spent too many years worrying about him, and now Billie was causing him that very same stress yet again.

“Mike, I...” I what? I started dreaming again after Jason started fucking me? I started feeling worthless and pathetic because I realized that I needed him? Billie set his drink down on the glass table in front of him with an unsteady hand. The bottle clanked a few times, rang around the room, and he winced.

“We finish the first leg in, what? A month? I’ll be fine. I just need to see my family.” Billie stood on cramped legs, needing this conversation to end. “Don’t worry about me, Mike. Please. I’m going to bed now, good night.”

He maneuvered his way out of the room, felt Mike’s eyes on his back and tried to ignore the shameful, sad feeling it left under his skin. When Billie turned back to look at him from the shadows, Mike’s face was completely shrouded in the dark. Billie could feel the warning in his eyes though, the apprehension in the way his limbs locked into position.

  • God, I love this story.

    I loved that image of Billie coming home in the night, and checking in on his children. And that scene with Billie in the tub and Mike crawling in with him was scarily vivid. I could feel the cold of it and the fear.

    And I just feel so bad for Jason.
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