Alright! This is it! The LAST chapter! I must say, I'm satisfied with the ending, and I hope you like it.
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PT.20
The first day the three boys were out, they said nothing at all. They stared out the windows, lost in their own thoughts, adjusting to the fact that they were finally, at last, allowed a chance to be completely free. It seemed like such a strange word. ‘Free’. Chad didn’t say anything either, didn’t even play the radio or anything, allowing them to try and grasp the idea.
They drove all day with no destination. Mike, Tré and Billie all sat close to one another, as if trying to assure themselves that the other two were there. Whenever another car nearby backfired or screeched as someone slammed the brakes, all three jumped and moved closer to one another. It took them nearly a minute to fully relax again.
Chad watched them as it happened through the rearview mirror, pitying them and hoping for them all at the same time.
At around after midnight, Tré finally nodded off. He was leaning against the window, watching the landscape fly by in colored blurs, and his eyelids drooped lower and lower until they at last closed. It didn’t take long for the other two boys to follow. Mike leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closed, and Billie Joe used his left shoulder as a pillow.
Early in the morning, Chad noticed this and smiled quietly to himself. They looked so peaceful to him. He almost didn’t recognize Tré, who, lately, had been sleeping with restless twitches and moans. Now the drummer lay still and silent, sleeping as soundly as the other two, who Chad was sure hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time either.
It was nearly noon before the boys woke up again. Mike was awakened first by a pothole they bounced over in the road. His head snapped up, and he blinked sleepily, mildly stretching his back. He then noticed Billie’s head on his shoulder and winced.
“You okay?” Chad whispered from the driver’s seat, glancing at him in the mirror. Mike looked over at him, meeting his eyes through the mirror, still blinking tiredly.
“Uh...yeah,” he replied softly, his voice hoarse and deeper from sleep. “It’s just a little stiff....” He gestured at the general shoulder area, and Chad was reminded of the recent injury he’d gotten over.
“Well, if he’s hurting you, you can wake him up,” Tré’s father suggested quietly. “I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” Mike nodded, but he made no move to wake Billie Joe up at all.
Tré woke up next. He opened his eyes, first noticing the brightness of the sun coming through the window. He sat up to evade it and rubbed his eyes, adjusting them to the dimness of the van, stretching slightly in his seat.
“Hey, man,” Mike whispered to him, smiling. “Sleep good?” Tré nodded, blinking rapidly to keep his eyes open.
“Pretty much,” he murmured back. “You?”
“Fine...”
Tré leaned forward, pressing himself against the back of the passenger’s seat to look at his father. “Dad,” he said, “when are we gonna make a pit stop?” Chad glanced back through his window as he switched lanes.
“In a little while,” he replied. “First let’s wake Billie up. I think he’s hurting Mike’s shoulder by sleeping on it.” Tré turned to the bassist next to him.
“Really?” he asked, looking at Billie Joe’s smooth face. “Why don’t you wake him up?”
Mike followed Tré’s gaze and looked at Billie’s face. “I just...don’t want to disturb him,” Mike admitted softly. “I don’t remember the last time I saw him this peaceful.” Tré remained silent, and the two observed their friend’s slumber for a little while.
To be truthful, Mike really couldn’t remember a time when Billie Joe looked carefree, even in his sleep. It might have been a little while after he met him, when Billie was just getting over his father’s death, before Steve entered his family and fucked up his life. But that had been such a short time, and such a long time ago, that Mike could not recall how his friend had looked.
Billie Joe came to on his own. His eyes fluttered a few times before they opened fully, revealing a foggy, sleepy green. It took him a moment to register his position, and then he sat up slowly, looking around him. He had almost forgotten where he was. He took a deep breath and yawned, stretching his back and shoulders.
“Are you feeling okay, Billie?” Tré asked. The black-haired boy blinked a few times, then nodded.
“You slept well?” Mike inquired as he slowly rolled his shoulder, stretching the painful stiffness out of it. Billie Joe nodded again.
“I’m fine. You two?”
“Never better,” Tré smiled.
“What time is it?” Billie Joe asked.
“Around eleven,” Chad replied.
“When are we stopping?”
“Soon.”
They all then fell silent and immersed themselves in their own thoughts. It was like a replay of the day before. There was no need for talking. Chad didn’t know if the fact that they were free of the worries and anxieties had hit them yet, but he was sure it would happen soon.
Soon.
Like when the boys all got out of the van and stretched their legs, looking up at the blue sky brushed by creamy white clouds. Like when they blinked at the sun, stared at the woods and the grass and earth beneath their feet. Like when they turned in a small circle, taking in their surroundings, looking at the freeway with its cars zipping by and the calm, gentle woods nearly growing on top of the asphalt.
They then looked at each other...and smiled.
Tré let out an exuberant whoop and threw himself at the other two, wrapping his arms around them. They laughed as they all fell to the ground, continuing to wrestle among the leaves with enthusiastic joy. When they finally stopped trying to pin each other, they just stood on their knees, their arms around each other, laughing and tilting their faces towards the sky.
“They’ve got it,” Chad murmured to himself with a bright smile, watching the boys’ antics. “You’re free.”
The rest of the day was spent driving, but this time, Chad had on his hands three overly-energetic fifteen year olds. They chattered happily in the backseat, telling each other things that had not been brought out in the open yet. It was mostly joyful memories that they remembered from their childhood. Chad listened from his driver’s position, smiling at his son’s enthusiasm as Tré told them of the time he accidentally put his foot through his bass drum and his parents’ reaction when they found out.
And they all laughed. They laughed in a way that Chad had never heard them laugh before.
From then on, it was like watching a flower grow taller after you had just taken it from a dark closet and placed it in the sun. The boys got better every day. Chad could see it visibly. Their sorrows were momentarily forgotten, and they simply enjoyed their time with each other. No one brought up Steve, their scars, nothing. It was all laughter and fun. Chad saw nearly every day a smile on each of their faces, and a sparkle regrowing in their eyes. And he thanked whatever powers each night he watched them fall asleep in the back of his van, he thanked them for giving the three boys just one more chance to live and find happiness.
It was like they had all shrunk back to five year olds on the inside. When they stopped at a restaurant to get some food, the boys linked arms and skipped to the front door, singing things they came up with off the top of their heads, Chad following at a more slower pace. When Chad pulled over the van to just let them stretch their legs, the three teenagers dashed from the car and continued to run around in whatever space they were given, simply being silly...and loving it.
On special days, Chad lowered the seat down in the back of the van, and the boys were able to play their instruments. Tré, of course, didn’t have his drums, but he was content to simply pound away at a rhythm on the floor, the window, or the door with open palms. Billie and Mike would sit cross-legged on the floor or on the back of the folded seat, strumming away at their guitars. Mike’s bass didn’t sound as powerful as it usually did without an amp, but it still gave off a rather mellow tune. Billie Joe simply held an acoustic guitar in his hands. Together, the three created music, and instead of the rage it had held before, it now expressed joy and freedom.
But despite the way things were getting better, all three boys still felt that there was something weighing them down. Chad couldn’t tell. For all Tré’s father knew, they were on a fast road to recovery. Mike, Billie and Tré had no idea what was making them so oppressed, but they felt it every once in a while, either in the rare occurrence where they were each locked in their own thoughts or when they simply let their fingers guide them on the guitars. Mike and Billie found themselves playing slow, sad tunes whenever they put their hands on autopilot, and they were surprised. Tré also found his hands moving slower than they had been before.
We’re supposed to be getting better, right? they always thought to themselves, staring at their hands as if they were strange and unknown to them. Then why does it feel like something’s just getting worse?
It took a few days for them to figure it out, and, when they did, they were staying in a hotel so Tré’s father could get some rest. Mike and Tré were sitting on the bed, watching the TV and flipping through the few channels it had, and Billie was sitting across the room, on the floor and leaning against the wall, staring at a table leg. Chad had the room next to them, and they could faintly hear the man snoring.
“Billie, is there something wrong?” Mike asked, noticing his friend’s detatchment from the world. The black-haired boy swiveled his eyes up to the two sitting upon the bed, seeming to have come to a decision. Slowly, he got up, moved across the room, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
He gazed at them for a few moments, then opened his mouth.
“Steve.”
Mike and Tré flinched slightly at the name and averted their eyes. Billie Joe didn’t take his eyes off of them, noticing their reaction to the sound of the name. It was just as he’d thought.
“We never talked about him,” Billie Joe whispered, still staring hard at his friends. “We never really accepted what had happened. And because we didn’t, we still can’t stand the thought of him.” He fell silent for a few moments. “He’s just a man.”
Mike was the first to look up, his body shaking slightly. “What do you mean?” he asked softly. Billie met his eyes calmly.
“He’s just a man,” he said again, emphasizing his point by pausing between each word. “Just a man. An asshole. A bastard.”
“Billie...” Tré murmured, his eyes wide.
“A man who has got a sick mind, a man who’s finally locked away for good. Yes, a man who did this to us...” Billie wrenched his sleeve up to show them one of the hieroglyphic signs that Steve had carved into his upper forearm, near the elbow, “...but a man nonetheless, and we don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“Who says we’re afraid?” Mike whispered.
“You know you are,” Billie shot back. “Don’t give me bullshit, Michael. You’re still afraid. And you are, too, Tré. As am I.” He stopped talking for a moment, swallowing. “As am I. But I want to stop being afraid. I don’t want him controlling my life now that he’s really gone. We’re doing this to ourselves, guys, don’t you see? He can’t hurt us anymore. We’re hurting ourselves.” The other two stared at him, their eyes wide and glistening. Billie stared back, feeling his throat tighten.
“I’m tired of this fear,” he whispered, shaking his head. And then it all came out.
That night, for the first time, Billie Joe cried. The tears streamed down his face, he hunched over, clutching his stomach, and sobbed into the cheap motel blanket covering the bed. His shoulders shook with each ragged spasm that ripped through his slender body. His weeping echoed around the room, coming back to his own ears and the ears of his friends, who moved forward.
Mike and Tré didn’t bother whispering, “It’s okay, Billie,” or “Don’t cry”. Those were lies. Billie Joe really needed this, and, they soon found out that they did, too. Billie wasn’t the only one to cry that night. The three boys huddled together, their faces buried in each other’s shirts, and they all cried. They cried for the fear that constantly haunted them, they cried for the horrid memories of what had happened, and they cried for each other. They didn’t hold anything back that night. They spilled their every fear out to one another’s ears and weren’t ashamed.
And that night, Mike learned a secret.
Only a few hours after the three had let out everything that’d been bothering them, Billie looked over at Mike from where he was sitting at the edge of the bed.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?” the said boy whispered, shifting his eyes to look over at his friend. Tré was curled up on the other side of the bed, fast asleep, his fist clutching the blanket and faint tear tracks on his face.
“You...re-remember when I almost...killed myself?” Billie asked softly. Mike stared at him for a few seconds.
How could I forget, he thought to himself, a statement, not a question, and he nodded.
“Do...do you know what stopped me?” Billie Joe asked. Mike shook his head. The smaller boy looked down, his fingers playing with the blanket beneath him. He took a deep breath and looked up again, meeting Mike’s eyes.
“You did,” he declared, this time with a much stronger voice. “You....and Tré.” He glanced at the drummer’s sleeping form. “When...when I was standing on the edge of the bridge...all I thought about was...how much I wanted to die. And I came really close to doing it, too. But then...something held me back. A memory, or a vision. Of you.”
Mike listened quietly, eyes focused. Billie took another deep, shuddering breath, then went on. “I saw...you and Tré...both of you were crying. Really hard. And I had this sudden thought, ‘Where would they be if I were dead?’ So...I stepped down from the wall...and I ran as fast as I could to get away from the bridge and every thought of killing myself.”
Another deep breath. “I...I saved myself to save you, Mike. I didn’t want you to grieve or...be sad or anything. Everything was already fucked up enough without me taking the easy way out to leave you and Tré with the tough road. I didn’t want that.”
Mike still remained silent. Finally he just moved forward and wrapped his arms around Billie’s shuddering frame. “Thank you, Billie,” he whispered. “You....” He swallowed. There really were no words to describe the bravery and nobility of the other boy’s decision.
Billie Joe simply clung to Mike’s jacket and let a few tears escape from his eyes.
It was like a final relief. The next day, Chad noticed that they were calmer than they were before, but it seemed as if they were happier. They seemed wiser, yet more willing to accept the world and things as they were. Not only that, they seemed more willing to step forward and see it all.
They only got better. Now that they knew that the other two were there for them, they allowed themselves release. They actually begged Chad to pull over so they could go into a store and buy brighter clothes for themselves. Billie Joe washed off his eyeliner and dyed his hair blond. Tré dyed his bright green. Mike wore much better fitting, brighter clothes.
Not only that, Billie wrote a song. Before, he hadn’t been able to at all, no matter how hard he tried. But in the middle of the day, during the car ride, he suddenly leaned forward and grabbed a pen from one of the cup holders near the driver’s seat. He then sifted through his bag until he found a decent piece of paper. He hunched against the door, and began to scribble something down.
It took a little while, but he finally finished, and he returned the pen to its place, folding the paper up and sticking it in his pocket. Tré leaned forward to see around Mike, who was next to Billie Joe.
“What’d you write?” he asked curiously, glancing at the pocket the slip of paper was in. Billie shook his head, seeming to be deep in thought.
“I’m not going to tell you...yet.”
“C’mon,” Mike urged, poking Billie in the arm. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not that,” Billie replied, looking out the window. After that, no matter how hard the other boys tried, they couldn’t get Billie Joe to forfeit whatever he’d written over so they could read it.
And then, when they were sitting in the back, strumming at their instruments, Billie suddenly began playing a certain tune that he'd clearly practiced before, and the surety of it quieted both Mike’s and Tré’s movements. Then Billie Joe began to sing.
“Wherever you go
You know I’ll be there
If you go far,
You know I’ll be there
I’ll go anywhere,
So I’ll see you there
You place the name
You know I’ll be there
You name the time
You know I’ll be there
I’ll go anywhere
So I’ll see you there
I don’t care if you don’t mind
I’ll be there not far behind
I will dare
Keep in mind
I’ll be there for you...”
Mike and Tré actually felt tears rising in their eyes. Smiling, Mike started playing with his bass to match what Billie was doing, and Tré began pounding out the rhythm. Billie Joe grinned, his fingers plucking at the strings of his guitar.
“...Where there’s truth
You know I’ll be there
Amongst the lies
You know I’ll be there
I’ll go anywhere
So I’ll see you there
I don’t care if you don’t mind
I’ll be there not far behind
I will dare
Keep in mind
I’ll be there for you...”
In the front seat, Chad listened to what they were playing; he listened to Billie’s testimony of loyalty he held for his friends, and he heard the love in each note they played. And when the song was over, Chad glimpsed Mike and Tré moving forward to throw their arms around their friend in the rearview mirror, and he smiled.
It was as if they’d finally come out of the darkness that had plagued them for the longest time. But it hit Chad completely almost two weeks after they’d begun their road trip. It was a dreary, rainy day, but that really didn’t bring the boys’ spirits down.
When they stopped for a moment to get out of the car and stretch their legs, Chad noticed a pay phone standing not too far away. It was battered and had graffiti written all over the metal, but it still worked, thankfully, and he entered the right amount of change and punched in the numbers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ollie. It’s me.”
“Chad,” she said, and he could just imagine her jumping up from her seat. “How is everything? It’s fine? Are the boys alright?” Chad couldn’t help but laugh at her jittery manner.
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” he assured her. “I just thought I’d check in with you while we’ve stopped.”
Miles away, a woman sat in a large armchair by her living room window, a forgotten book lying open on the nearby table. On her lap was an old, tattered notebook, and on top of that was a creased envelope. She held the phone close to her ear.
“And how are they?” she asked, looking down at the thin envelope. Her fingers slowly started to open it.
“You should see them, Ollie,” Chad whispered on the other end, wonder clearly written in his voice. “It’s like they’re totally different people.” Ollie smiled as she heard a joyous shout in the background, clearly belonging to one of the boys.
“So...you really believe that they’re healed?” she asked, taking a slip of paper out of the envelope she was holding. She felt tears rising in her eyes as she gazed down at it.
Chad, who was about to answer, was suddenly cut off by a large clap of thunder from above. Mike, Tré and Billie, who’d been playfully shoving at one another, froze and looked up at the sky. A drop landed on their faces, then another, and another. Soon it was pouring heavily, lightning flickering through the dark clouds. The boys yelled in excitement, even as their clothes were getting drenched, and raised their heads.
Chad smiled. The three teenagers spread their arms wide and tilted their faces upward, towards the sky, letting the rain fall and welcoming it. And there was not a single worried or anxious line in any one of their faces. They closed their eyes and smiled, and what Chad saw there was total and complete bliss.
“Yes,” he replied to Ollie’s question, his voice soft. “I really do believe that they’re healed.”
Ollie grinned through her tears on the other end of the line, looking down at a picture that had been sent to her only days before. It was of Mike, Tré, and Billie sitting in the van. To some who looked at it, it was simply a picture of three boys fooling around, being silly and loving it. But Ollie could see such a difference in them. They looked happier, carefree. And even though she wasn’t there to see her son’s change, she felt that it was better for him to be miles away and happy than to be only inches from her and miserable.
She gave a choked, relieved laugh as she cried, still looking at the picture in her hands and the note written at the bottom:
“Thank you, Mom. I’ll always love you. ~Billie Joe.”
Ollie smiled and gently ran her finger over her son’s smiling face in the picture, noting the sparkle in his eyes that had been absent. She then turned her gaze to the window, where the rain still fell, listening to Billie’s laugh through the phone still pressed to her ear.
“I love you too, baby,” she whispered. “Keep your wings spread.”
And Billie Joe, dancing in the rain with his friends, his arms spread wide, smiled.
THE END
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I'm kind of sad now that it's over......*shniff* But the sequal is well under way. There's at least something to look forward to.
Oh, and this is the picture Ollie had been looking at, the one of the three boys. For some reason, it's one of my favorites of Green Day:
img74.imageshack.us/img74/2974/normalgreenday0yn.jpg