"No Echo! Where were you when you could contact me? Where the fuck where you when I was there on television! You never tried to get into contact with me. And there I was finding myself thinking whilst I tried to sleep you didn't want me. You left me- yeah, I know, you didn't want to yadda yadda yadda- but to not get in contact? You didn't wanna do that either? The reason I don't talk about when you left is because-" he took a sharp breath in. "-Is because I am so fucking scared that you didn't want me when you were gone,"

I didn't know what words to use. And if I did know them, I didn't know if I could've said them right. And I didn't mean the slurring.

"And I sit here now," He continued. "And I think so much about- if I didn't bump into you in that bar. Would you of ever wanted me with out that nudge?"

For the splittest second. I felt sober. Like this argument had sobered me up completely. I wish I still did feel drunk, because now all I had intoxicating me was this horrid guilt.

Billie still stood there in front of me. Waiting for an answer. The room was silent apart from his heavy breathing, but I didn't know what to say.

Of course that wasn't the case, what he was saying. When I lived in a shared place with Willow, I spent nights and nights thinking all about him.

When I first left California, moving in with Willow. I could hardly speak about him for weeks with out this guilt consuming me. And when he did become famous, I did wanna reach out. But I had this question in my mind. 'Is it too late?'.

I'd of just been another fan. Another girl who had this idea she could've actually really been with Billie Joe. I'd of been a face in the crowd. Which, I never minded being. But did he still want me? Had he moved on? Was he angry for the way I left?

I had a million questions, no answers, and a love sick heart. What was I suppose to do?

So Billie still stood there still. The room was now burning with a tension. I finally raised my eyes to look to him, but he shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke over again. A calm, quiet and shaky voice. "Y'know what," He mumbled. "Don't answer. I don't think any answer will make me feel any better."

I was still struck as I watched him walk straight past me, out the living room. I didn't follow. I felt stuck in this living room carpet by my own two feet. As I heard his shoes echo up the stairs step by step.

Then the bedroom door closed.

Like I had decided even a few days after leaving California and moving in with Willow.

Some things are bound to be a tragedy.

Some people, just naturally have tragedy in their blood line. Its just written in the stars their life is suppose to be a sad shit show. Thats just how its suppose to be.

And that was my case.

One thing after a fucking other.

By the time morning came, I was unpleasantly surprised to find I had fallen asleep in my jeans and on the sofa.

The sounding of Billie rattling with pots and pans echoed from the other room, thumping into my head. Screeching through my ears.

Everything came feeling back to me that had happened before I passed out. I felt my stomach churn with guilt, was he still angry?

I wasn't quite sure where last nights argument came from, or more I didn't really remember, but Billie came out with something he's felt this whole time.

He didn't think I cared about him.

How my past was a terrible thing, catching me at every turn.

"Morning," Billies voice sounded gravely, tired eyes as he wandered through the door way. Baggy tatternd pj bottoms and what looked to be a dirty old operation ivy shirt.

A lump rose inside of my throat. "Morning," I pushed out. My reply didn't seem too confident.

He leaned on the door way, his attention to me. "How come you didn't make it to bed last night?"

How come?

Sometimes I think Billie always wanted me to say straight how I feel. With Billie Joe, what you get is what you see. With me, one of the first things Billie ever told me the first time I saw him drink was how much of a hard person I was to talk to.

Billie enjoyed squeezing the truth out of me. He knew I hated confrontation, so to force it out of me was hard.

"We argued," I answered sheepishly. "I thought I'd stay on the sofa,"

"You really didn't have to," Billie let out a breezy laugh, crossing his arms.

Did he always feel as if it was me who never cared? Never missed him? Never thought of him?

Being sober, the thoughts soured me.

What kind of person, could Billie take me for, if I was as selfish or as arrogant as those things he questions.

"I know." I replied bluntly. Fury fulling me. "I didn't mind,"

Billies face seemed to scrunch in confusion. "Oh? Well... alright." He turned around, walking back into the kitchen. "Hungry?" He called out.

"Not really," I replied. Checking my phone.

I struggled for months after leaving California. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, didn't wanna leave the house. I was home sick of my home town and I was desperate to see a face I knew pleasantly again.

I left California with a big hole in my chest, that took me years of effort and strength to build back together. A built a new life in my wound and that took a long time to achieve.

For nights, I had dreams haunting me. Thoughts swirling around.

I did infact, always question too if Billie missed me as much as I missed him. If he thought about me. If he remembered me.

I don't question anymore.

"What's wrong?" Billie huffed, returning back to the door way. Arms still crossed.

Some could say I question my past. I wouldn't necessarily say I question it, I just catch it. Or... try to.

Sometimes-

"So... where are they? Are they out? Did they move? Did they-"

"-They're not alive anymore Echo,"

"...What?"

-I can be too late.

I made a vow to never be late again. A vow I'm cursed in fear to keep.

But I don't observe anymore.

"Nothing." I shook my head, placing my phone back down.

"Is it last night?" Billie questioned.

Of course it was. Was that really a question?

"Yes Billie." I sighed in frustration. "Maybe it is,"

"Wait," His neck jerked back as he looked at me insulted. "You're angry at me?"

"Yeah. Alright. I am Billie Joe,"

He shifted his position from leaning on the door way, arms uncrossing. "What have I done?"

"So you really think that the only reason I'm here with you now is just because we bumped into each other? Because I needed that nudge?" I reminded, standing myself up preparing to walk out the room. But Billie replied fast.

"Why are you angry at me for that? Did you ever try to contact me?" His eyes widened. "Because from all that what I remember, I don't think you did,"

"You were on television Billie Joe," I deepened my voice. "You were on everyone's televisions. Including mine. I was in New Jersey. I was in a town that no one knew the name of, on the other side of the country from where we started. You wanted me to believe I still could of had a shot?"

"So what- you didn't question at all if I still missed you?"

I did.

But it didn't lead to the most pleasant of nights.

"No." I admitted. "I use to have dreams, where I'd stand there next to you. And you couldn't see me. And I would watch you, just forgetting about me. So no, I never called, I never wrote anything in, never looked up your name too much or kept the television on. I didn't question because I thought if you remember me you'd find me again," I finally breathed out. Eyes to him. "And you did,"

Billie looked at me carefully. "I didn't forget about you,"

At first I thought that. But sometimes having hope turns to just scrambling for it. "I didn't forget about you." I replied. "I didn't contact you because I forgot. I was just scared,"

My eyes flickered open, feeling tired as I looked around the room. The realisation began to prick me fast, as my eyes scanned past the framed photos of a small green eyed boy.

"No." I sighed. Eyes flickering around Billies empty living room. Why was I here? I'm miles away from California. "No," I repeated, looking over towards the tall shadowy figure. "Why am I here?"

"Do you know where you are?" He asked.

"Course I do." I mumbled. Beginning to grow uncomfortable as I crossed my arms.

I heard foot steps steeping down the stairs, as I realised who might end up walking in.

I widened my eyes to the living room door. Next thing I knew it had cracked open, and there he walked in. So casually, so nonchalant, he didn't even see me.

"Why?" I questioned, turning back to the tall man. My voice felt small and croaky, as I felt emotions flood through my body.

He was silent for a few seconds. I felt myself deflate realising he wasn't going to answer me.

I turned my neck back to Billie, who gave a sigh as he dropped on to the sofa. Looking tired.

For a few seconds, I couldn't peel my eyes off him. Seeing him was like a back handed slap.

"You can't do this," I tried to strgenth my voice, it only sounded flakier as I narrowed my eyes to the guy.

His voice was deadpan. "Why not?"

"You can't expect me to see this." I mumbled. "To sit here and watch him while he's forgetting about me,"

"He's not forgetting about you," although there was no tone behind the deep voice, something about that felt reassuring. "Why do you think we're here Echo?"

I felt my bottom lip quiver. As I drew it under my top teeth. Why was I here?

To watch another side of the story I was never suppose to see.

To dream to watch your existence disappear with in a person you can't forget.

"Have I done something bad?" I asked uncertain. As my eyes wandered back on Billie.

His arms were lazily spread on the back of the sofa. As his eyes followed the tv. Skin darkening beneath them, he looked exhausted.

"Why do you think that?" The man asked.

My gaze fell from Billie. "I'm not sure," I muttered. "Why else would I be here?"

All I could hear was the audio from the tv, I looked back to see if he was going to reply, but his eyes were on Billie Joe.

I sighed exhaustedly, walking towards Billie Joe. I studied him carefully, too nervous to get too close to him. As he looked past me, un-phased.

"I don't understand how this works," I commented, staring down at Billie. "So he can't see me?"

"No,"

I took in a breath, before sitting on the empty seat beside him on the sofa. Watching him shiver. "Can he sense me?"

"This is just a dream,"

"Right." I nodded. Before my eyes wandered on to Billie Joe.

Being so close to him, seeing the traces and fine creases in his skin. It felt wrong.

Billies gaze flicked off from the television, near to where I was. Slowly wandering as he looked at the room.

Then dead at me.

I felt a breath hitch in my throat. "Can he see me?" I whispered. Feeling almost paralysed.

"No,"

I turned to look at the man slowly. "He's looking straight at me,"

"He's zoned out," The man nodded. "He's thinking about you,"

I slowly turned to look back at Billie. His green eyes still there. Looking dull as ever.

"No," I whispered. "No. No this isn't fair." I stood up fast, Billies eyes slowly moved their gaze simultaneously. "Is there something I can do?" I looked desperately at the tall man.

He didn't respond.

I began to rush over to him. "There's got to be something. Something I can do- surely?" My voice was barley beyond a breath, as I felt my system weaken.

The man didn't speak. But his eyes seem to wander down to the floor. Avoiding me as I stood there.

That night I dreamt I saw the side of the story I should not of seen.

Ignorance is bliss, but regret can catch up.

"Do you really think of me like that?" I asked Billie Joe after a moment. "That we're only here because of that bar?"

Billie bit his bottom lip. Stubble beginning to peak through the skin on his chin. Before he sighed. "Maybe I'm just bitter," he shrugged, gaze on me. "Because you never got in contact. I guess I saw it as you left me, so you'd come find me and... you didn't,"

"I found your wallet?"

Billie gave a lopsided smile. "I guess so,"

There was a silence that refilled the air. "Maybe we should forgot about it." I commented. "And go do something?"

Billies grin grew. "Mike and Tre did call this morning," He informed. "Wanted to know if we wanted to join their camping trip?"

"Camping trip?" I scrunched my face up in distaste. "I'm not the camping kind,"

"Oh come on," Billie chuckled. "It'll just be for a night or two,"

"Or two!?"

"Alright," Billie rolled his eyes playfully. "Just one,"

"Just one?"

"Just one. And we can come home, swear,"

I bit the inside of my cheek, mind wandering. "I'll think about it,"

A/n: right. i will admit this is all written from me being stoned, but it's a take it or leave it chapter
ANYWAY