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Eulogies, cheap cigarettes, whiskey shots, and valentines.
Billie's Night Up 
19th-Oct-2010 04:01 pm
blond, billie joe armstrong, green day
Billie Joe Armstrong is having trouble trying to sleep. He desperately wants to, but for some reason can't. So he tries numerous things in order to help him go to bed. So far, none of them work, and all he wants is to rest. Billie Joe's "era" (if you will) in this story isn't decided, but that's up to you. Also, Adrienne is not mentioned in this story, suggesting they weren't together at the time. Mike and Tre are his band mates. Later on, Tre tries to help Billie do some antics in order to sleep. Will he stay up all night, or will he finally sleep like a baby?

All ideas, scenarios, story lines, etc have been thought up by me. If any stories are found to contain the same, or closely similar content as this story, used WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, you will be reported.

I will FIND you.
2010© streverendfink

(I don't expect anyone to do that, though, just still)

Chapter One: 1:30 AM.
Billie sighed and looked up at the ceiling from his bed. The stress he was under had finally deprived him of sleep, and it was really getting to him. Billie was quite, very quiet. He seemed to be very troubled by the expression on his face. His brows furrowed, his eyes tired, wet and unable to stay open, and his mouth was pursed tightly. Billie grinded his teeth, and gnashed them together until he started to get a migraine. He groaned. How stupid of him, he thought to himself. Billie rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, trying to relieve them from pain as well, but the moon had decided to be particularly bright that night and it didn’t make a difference whether or not his eyes were open or closed. He turned to his side, laid his head on the pillow, and placed his hands under his head for an extra lift. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Billie kept twisting and turning, until he had finally had enough and got up from his bed, putting on his slippers and walking into the kitchen from his dark room which was a subtle blue from the light shining through his curtains.

Billie trudged his feet along the hardwood floor. His slippers made a scraping or sliding noise against it as he walked. Billie stopped for a moment; shoulders slouched, dizzily moving back and forth from his tiredness. He apparently had forgotten why he was going to the kitchen. Billie seemed to remember where he was, and what he was doing, and made his way to the fridge. He reached his arm inside the cold and dim lighted space where he kept a variety of different drinks. Billie figured he wasn’t going to sleep for a while, so in lieu of milk, grabbed a soda. Billie glanced towards the stove and brought his attention to the clock. It read 1:30 AM. Billie collected air into his cheeks, and exhaled as if he were to sigh.
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