To know you is to hate you: He ain't my brother.

Billie Joe curled up on the couch with a blanket and the remote control as soon as he set foot on the bus. Tre and Jason bombarded me with questioned, not wanting to annoy Billie, and I explained everything while I made myself a well deserved coffee.

“We should just watch out for him y’know? And he’ll have to take it easy.” I said.

Neither of them had any problems with taking it easy. The downfall of being in a band was always being on the move and the tiring business of touring. Don't get me wrong, we loved it but it just played on your nerves.

“I think we should get him the once over when we reach the next town.” Jason replied.

“Yeah! Yeah that’s good! Let’s do that!” Tre was over excited about getting to spend the next day relaxing and watching television.

Jason left us to hang out in one of the other buses when we started to move. Tre made coffee for all of us and I served up pancakes. Billie Joe looked so small hunched up in the corner of the couch with his knees drawn up to his chin. When I set down the plate of food on the coffee table he was the only one who didn't immediately reach out for one. He simply glanced at it and then back to the television. His coffee was grasped between his two hands, like a small child might hold a bottle.

Re-runs of Friends was playing on the television and I couldn’t help but notice how intently he watched it. He was unusually silent as well.

“For the sake of fuck!” Tre complained as the opening theme began to play, “I’ve seen this a bizillion times!”

“I haven’t.” Billie Joe muttered quietly.

“Dude you have! We’ve all watched this so much we could recite every line!”

“No I haven’t!”

Tre fell silent at Billie’s stern comeback. It wasn’t like him to become angry over something so small.

“O-okay.” The drummer glanced at me, “Chill BJ.”

Tre settled down and watched the show without any further complaints. I, however, couldn’t take my eyes off Billie. Something was different about him. One moment he seemed perfectly like himself and the next he was a stranger. It was just the little things he did; the way he spoke, the way he sat and the expressions he held on his face. Even the he scratched his chin and twitched his nose.The changes were so sudden that it was hard to tell when they stopped and started.

Tre didn’t seem so concerned. He was rather content to watch the rerun and sip his mocha coffee. But I did catch him glancing worryingly at me as if pleading for some sort of answer.

God, I wish I knew.

We remained like this for a while, I got up to top up my coffee while Tre and Billie talked and watched television. The singer was perfectly normal, if not a little confused at times, after his sudden outburst and it wasn’t mentioned between us again. He was rather to cheery for a guy who had taken a blow to the skull.

**********

Eventually our traveling came to a brief halt outside a gas station and Tre disembarked the vehicle to get some cigarettes and food. I sat beside Billie Joe and took this opportunity to check if he was really okay.

“How are you feeling Bill.” I asked.

He looked at me and shrugged.

“Just fine Mikey. I mean my head hurts like a mother – fucker but I’ll be fine.” Mid sentence he looked back to the television.

I was more than a little relieved. Maybe what the doctor had said covered more than just confusion and his little ‘outburst'’ was just a side effect of the injury? If I’m honest, I was just glad to have him alive. I couldn’t imagine my life without the man! If he had been killed I would never have forgiven myself and I know for a fact that Adi would be as inconsolable as me.

I lent across and slipped my arm around his slim shoulders, in a friendly gesture and nothing more. His body stiffened and his head snapped round to meet mine.

“What the fuck!?” He screamed and pushed me off him, “Y-you fucking fag!”

I stared at him in total awe and bewilderment. We hugged and held each other all the time. Hell! He had even kissed me on more than several occasions. He enjoyed showing this off on stage, in front of millions of people, and found it entertaining when I slapped his ass in front of the screaming fans. The Billie Joe I knew was not coy about touching other men.

“Billie Joe, man, what did I do?!” I stammered.

“You fucking touched me! Don’t ever put your arms round me-“ He stopped and gazed at me through narrowed eyes, he cocked his head to the side and chewed his bottom lip, “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

That hurt; it stung like a kick in the balls. If he was playing, it really wasn’t funny.

“It’s me, Mike.”

“Mike? I don’t know anyone called Mike.”

Somehow I knew he wasn’t playing.

He stood up and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. Slowly he moved by me, keeping his eyes on mine the whole time.

“I’m going to bed. “

That was it. He went into the bed room and slammed the door leaving me to mull over what had just happened. I heard Tre step into the bus, carrying what I assumed was plastic bags.

He rummaged through the groceries behind me humming lightly to himself. Seconds later he shouted at me from the kitchenette.

“Think fast!”

I was hit on the back of the head by a packet, of what I can only assume, was cigarettes. I didn’t move although I did feel rather stunned.

“Mike?” He wondered over and knelt beside me, “Michael Dirnt!?” his hand was waved in front of my eyes before he jumped to his feet, “Oh my Jesus! He’s dead!”

“I’m not dead you jackass!” I rolled my eyes at him.

“What’s the jizz with you sitting so fucking still like a zombie mother?!”

I didn’t want to mention what had happened with Billie. Somehow I think Tre wouldn’t understand.Well, no, that's not fair, he would understand. I just think he would put it down to me over reacting at one of Billie's jokes. Which I clearly wasn't. Nothing about this was a joke.

“Nothing. I’m just coffee deprived.” It was somewhat of a half truth.

“Okay dude, well let me rustle you up a ‘Monsieur Cool surprise.’ “he moved to the kitchen and I turned in my chair to watch him.

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” His grin was scary wide.

He searched through the cupboards and placed things from the bags into them. The kettle was bowling beside him and he had my overly large coffee mug on the counter ready to be filled with whatever concoction he had in mind.

“Wheres BJ?” He asked mid – spoonful of caffeine.

“He went to bed.” I muttered.

“Oh. Understandable, the tyke must be out of it; what with getting a mother fucker of a hit to the head.”

I didn’t reply. I just turned my eyes back to the television and waited for my drink. What Billie Joe had said had really hurt me and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that the singer had suffered some sort of mental injury. I knew it couldn’t have been his conscious mind which had spoken to me in such a harsh way but none the less, it hurt like a kick to the jewels.