Billie's P.O.V:
Just another day in my boring life... I wish something interesting would happen...

Green Day had practically fallen apart... thanks to Mike and his drug habit getting completely out of control last year...

I sighed a little at the memory of all the good times Mike, Tré and I had had together over the years.

I hardly ever spoke to either of them anymore... I mean, sure, Tré and I still spoke a little and we sometimes met up. That was a very rare occurrence thought...

As for my relationship with Mike, well, that had pretty much gone down the drain...

Ever since he'd started doing drugs, I found myself speaking to Mike less and less, until one day, around a couple weeks ago, when we'd pretty much just stopped talking altogether...

I'll admit that I did miss him sometimes... after all, we'd fucking known each other since we were both 10 years old...

I couldn't let that stuff bother me anymore though... that was all in the past... and I'd eventually grown to learn that what happened in the past, stayed in the past.

I was suddenly ripped out of my thoughts by the sound of people talking just ahead of me. I slowly lifted my head to look up at what was happening in front of me.

What I saw really surprised me...

Mike was leaning against a wall and he was casually talking to a guy who looked like he hadn't slept in days... another junkie no doubt.

I leaned in a little closer to try and catch some of their conversation.

"How much?" The kid with jet black hair asked, fishing around in his pocket for something.

"Hmm..." Mike replied. I could hear that his voice was low and raspy. I sighed a little to myself. Why was he doing this to himself...?

I leaned in a little closer, trying to catch the rest of his sentence.

"Normally I'd say 50 bucks. But, for a pretty boy like you, I'll make it 25."

The kid with black hair rolled his eyes at Mike and handed him the money.

I saw Mike smirk before pulling two syringes out of his pocket. Heroin I presumed.

Black-haired kid nodded in thanks before taking that syringes and walking off in the direction of the alley that Mike and I used to go to as teenagers to smoke weed and just mess around.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly made my way over to Mike. I was going to give him a piece of my mind. This whole drug thing had gone on long enough.

"Hey Mike." I said casually as I got closer to him.

"Oh hey Bill." He replied, a small smirk playing across his lips. I gulped. He was a lot taller than me... which meant he could easily win in any sort of fight that ensued between us...

"So what's up?" I continued, my voice quivering a little.

"Oh y'know... the usual..."

I rolled my eyes. The usual...

I suddenly felt a surge of confidence sweep through me. And I gladly seized this opportunity to finally speak my mind.

"Listen Mike." I said calmly. "This whole drug thing has got to stop..."

"And why is that?!" he snarled, grabbing the front of my shirt and slamming me against the wall.

I gasped as the wind was momentarily knocked out of me.

"Because you're killing yourself man!" I coughed and spluttered.

Mike grinned evilly before forcefully throwing me to the ground.

"And why the fuck d'you care?!" He growled, kicking me in the stomach before walking off.

"B-because I-I'm yo-your f-friend..." I whimpered quietly.

After a few minutes of sitting with my back against the wall and my knees pulled to my chest, I slowly got up off the ground and decided to go and look for the black-haired kid. I don't know why, but I somehow felt drawn to him, almost as if I somehow knew him... but of course that couldn't be possible. I'd never seen this boy in my entire life.

The argument I'd just had with Mike played in my mind over and over again as I walked. I still didn't understand why he was doing this to himself... and it killed me everyday knowing that he was slowly killing himself...

Eventually, after a little while, I finally reached the alley where Mike and I used to hang out.

As I cautiously peered into the darkness, I saw the black-haired kid lying in a heap on the ground.

Taking a deep breath to try and slow down my racing heart, I slowly walked down the alley, squinting a little as it got darker.

When I got close enough, I saw with a stab of fear that one of the syringes was lying a couple feet away from him. And it was empty...

I gulped as I slowly crouched down beside the small boy. He looked no older than 19 or 20... the poor kid... his life must've been pretty low if he relied on stuff like this to pick himself up again.

Shuddering, I carefully picked up the syringe between my thumb and index finger.

This just brought back memories of the past... especially after my dad died... I remembered at the age of around 21 or something, I'd messed around with all kinds of drugs, one of the main ones being heroin.

My eyes widened as I caught sight of something on the boy's arm. Scars... or track marks, depending on what you want to call them. These kind of scars only came from sticking syringes into your arms...

I gently picked up the boy's arm. It was absolutely covered in scars... some of them wer quite fresh... I gently traced my thumb over the one I thought looked the newest.

Why did I always get dragged into this sort of thing? First it was my best friend and now it was some helpless kid.

I didn't know what to do... if I left him out here, the cops would surely pick him up...

So, quickly making a decision, I took of my hoodie and wrapped it around the small boy before taking him into my arms and slowly beginning the walk back to my house.

As I looked down at the small, helpless boy in my arms, I couldn't help saying a small prayer, desperately hoping that he'd wake up.