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It was a show like any other on the Saviors tour....
bright lights
crowd screaming back every lyric
his bandmates laughter
the fact it was their homecoming show...
But Billie couldn't think about that.
All he could think about was the man next to him, Mike Dirnt.
His best friend forever.. his crush.. oh how he blushed seeing Mike, how he loved him.
He knew Mike didn't love him back at all. Mike loved Brittany.
He understood that as well as anyone when Mike told him that harsh fact a few months ago, in France. He'd been living with the heartbreak for months,months, and, months, and months.
Eating dinner together, on stage, in interviews. hiding how much he couldn't stand to be around the man who shattered his heart.
He couldn't stand to be around anybody.
He couldn't stand to be alive.
That's why he planned to die immediately after tour. no loose ends, no undone show. In a room, nobody home. Adrienne would find him, probably scream. Then he'd be all over the news for a week before being forgotten. Be forgotten for the next big thing... Then he heard a loud
"ahem.... Billie Joe?" oh... it's Jason.... He's still on stage...
"Oh-ahh...Fuck..D-Did...." he looked over to Jason, a horrified look on his face. "hey.... did I.... uhhhh... did I sayyy anythinnnnn'?????"
Jason looked confused "uh... no...?" Billie ignored his friend, immediately having a plan to divert away from the obvious, laughing. Cause this was absolutely normal for him,
"hah... sorry everyone!! little headache..? y'know..? anyways.. CAN I GET A HEYOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH SAN FRANCISCO??????"
The crowd cheered back, assuming it was a normal little flu.
"TONIGHT, RIGHT HERE, WE ARE ALIVE. TO CELEBRATE 20 YEARS OF AMERICAN IDIOT"
he cheered, just as he always did. and they started Homecoming, like they did each show.
but he wasn't alive, his heart was beating from him. And he was all alone. Because this is normal.. there's nothing wrong with him.. this is how he is.
Eventually, the final chords of the show rung out. He walked off stage. hiding in his dressing room, waiting until everyone left and it was just staff. he changed into some sweatpants, a shirt, and a hoodie. and he noticed the wine on the table.. he knew better, he was sober...
He still drank most of the bottle before puking. Eventually, he was superrr fucking drunk, and a staff member walked in after having to burst the door down.
"excuse me... Mr Armstrong... all the other members are heading to the van... I think you should join them..." the younger man said, reaching for his wrist to pull him up.
"nah.. nah. iii-its...fine...i'lllll wallllk..." he said, drunkly pulling his arm away.
"Sir... you at least need to exit the building.." the younger man carried him outside and left him next to the parking lot reserved for the band.
He sat there for a few hours... or an hour... So he started walking, or stumbling. seeing fans, who stared at him weird.
He was trying to hide the horrendous state he was in, mostly just wanting to go home.
But, to anybody it was fucking obvious he was going through it. He looked like an active suicide risk and he sure as fuck felt like one. He didn't even care, he was gonna just walk to Oakland or something.it was stupid, hes NEVER done something THIS diabolically stupid in his 52 years on this planet. Walking through West Oakland... at NIGHT? Jesus, he's begging to get shot, Not like he fucking cares. In fact, if he got shot and killed right now he wouldn't care.
He got to the Golden Gate bridge around 2AM, he was planning to just walk back to Oakland, and like... Call an Uber.... Or call Tre... Or... Anybody.. Fuck, he didn't care, he just walked.
He sat on the bridge railing, nobody could see anyways, it was nighttime and empty. he was fairly close to the Oakland side. still over water....
Then the thoughts came.
Jump.
Jump.
Jump.
Jump???
Why would he? His depression isn't that bad.. He's lying, it's been terrible since he agreed to start the Saviors tour. He had been an active risk the entire tour, he had his meds in a cabinet so he wouldn't try to OD. He wasn't allowed out on his own, he couldn't be alone for more than 2 hours. He's been genuinely suicidal the entire tour, finding anyway for to end all of his pain and stress. He sat on the railing, expecting for police to find him, haul him away to a hospital... And he looked down into the sea of emptiness below him, all he could see, all he knew was there? The net. That stupid fucking net. So he looked for a small part with an opening. He found it, it was closer to San Francisco, but he found a place. So he got ready to jump.
He noticed it had been rainy, of course it was. Some stupid entity was trying to convince him to survive, whether it was the universe, God, Budda, fuck, even that spaghetti monster those crazy people believe in. It's not stopping him. He slowly took his coat off, the freezing cold air hitting him like a freight train. He folded it on the floor,making sure his wallet with his ID was in there, then his shoes, and finally, he took off his socks, because he fucking hated wet socks. He was gonna drown anyways. He sat back on the railing, and looked down to the abyss of death, black as a sky with no stars. He took one final look at Oakland and San Francisco, divided. Always together, but never together. He thought about his life, his friends... About Mike.
And he stared off, and finally decided he was ready. And he pushed himself off...
He fell, back first, head down. And he looked over at Oakland, his home... Well.. Not his home, it's not Rodeo.
He wished he could've walked around Rodeo one last time before he did this.
But as he stared at the glimmering city, with it's shining lights reflecting on the murky water below, he had a terrifying realization.
No... No no no no no no no.... Oh God...
I fucked up.
I still have songs to write,
people to meet,
life to live,
I'm only 52..
I'm not ready to go..
He hoped once his body hit the water, he'd be able to swim or to just reflect.
But when you fall from that height, you can't swim....
Because your bones shatter into pieces.
As he hit the San Pablo waters that connect the Bay Area, every bone in his body shattered. He couldn't move, his last sight was the city lights vaguely glimmering under the water, the freezing, dirty, polluted water from the refineries entered his lungs. He couldn't move, he was sinking and being dragged by the current to God knows where.
He could feel how filthy the water was.
He would puke if his body could move enough, but right now?
He was tired,
tired of heartbreak,
tired of pressure,
tired of being alive,
just tired.
Living sounded nice, but that's only because humans have a natural survival instinct... And his ran out once he started to feel the pain go away.
Well... I always wanted to die clean and pretty, but I've been to busy on touring days. The last thing he saw before his life faded was the cold, dark, disgusting water.
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October 11th, 2024
[NBC Early Morning Report (partial transcript)]
[Reporter]: Shocking news this morning, a body was recently discovered off the coast of Pinole, California. at around 7:42 am local time, a group of fishermen discovered the body of missing rockstar and Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong. As of now the cause of death is still unknown. We asked the band and family for comment,however they both have declined...this is [...] with NBC and this is your early morning report... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it was a few days after the funeral. Mike went to help Adrienne with cleaning the house, basically he told her to go out and try to clear her head while he stayed inside and processed the fact he indirectly killed his best friend.
He walked through the house and found an old photobook,the first picture was him and Billie,
they had to have been in middle school.
I'm sorry Billie... I'm so so sorry...
He stared at Billie in that photograph..
So young and innocent.
So bright and cheery.
His best friend...
And now he's dead.
you fell in love.. but then you just fell apart...
He shut the notebook but just before he did he noticed a few papers.
Letters...
Suicide notes...
To my Dearest Love Adrienne...
To my best friend Tre...
To my son Jakob....
To my Mom...
To my sister Anna...
To my brother Alan...
To my sister Marcie...
To my sister Hollie...
To my brother David...
To my truest friend Mike,
If you're reading this, you probably already know I'm dead. Hell, my skull is probably blown out all over my room in front of you. Sorry about that, I really don't want to mess this up and have to survive in this world any longer. I've loved you for years, romantically and platonically. I knew it would never work. I knew you'd reject me. So, this whole thing... y'know? my brain kinda everywhere? Please don't blame this on yourself. You kept me on this planet long enough to see you grow up into an old man. I didn't think either of us would make it this far. but look at us !! Most famous punk band in the world.
But I'm leaving you with the biggest task of all...
Take care of Adrienne, don't let her end up with me too soon. she deserves the longest life.
As for you? Live.
I'll see you soon, 50 years or 5 minutes.
Your best friend, Billie Joe. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~