WARNING AND DISCLAIMER: This fan fiction contains vulgar language. Green Day owns American Idiot.

"Johnny, where's your guitar?"

"I sold it, babe," he lounged across the sofa, yawning at the black-and-white television blaring some fuzzy soap opera. Both of them knew that he wasn't into it; he hated most relationship-based tv shows.

"Why? I like it when you play."

He grinned and sat up. "Honey, I'm pretty sure you'll like what I got you with the money," Jonathan motioned for her to come closer and pulled her onto his lap.

"What?" Whatshername asked, halfway torn between insisting that he shouldn't have bothered and throwing her arms around her boyfriend in delight. "What is it?"

"You should have seen the death-glares they gave me when I walked into the store," his chin was on her shoulder. So he'd gotten something really expensive…. Oh no, he'd gone and bought something pricey for her and even sold his most prized possession for it!

Calloused fingertips caressed her neck, making her shiver slightly. "Close 'em," he ordered.

Whatshername did as he said and shut her eyes. She held her breath as Johnny shifted around and mumbled "Shit, where is it?" He hadn't moved much, so it had to be close and small.

His hands tenderly brushed against her skin again, something cold and weighty was put around her neck.

"Open,"

Whatshername looked down to find a priceless necklace adorning her neck- well, it was the most "priceless" thing she'd ever worn before. The chain was silver and held a beautiful pendant. The jewelry had real diamonds and her birthstone, nothing big and but still eye-attracting.

"Johnny, you didn't!"

"You don't like it?"

"I do, I do, but you didn't have to!"

"Naw, of course I did. I haven't played my guitar in weeks, anyway; it was time for a new pair of hands to love it. I've got you to love now, anyway," she could hear the smile in his voice.

Whatshername leaned back as Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, holding her waist. Things had finally started to go right; it seemed like nothing could break the two apart now….

Nothing….

The woman soon to be known as Whatshername quietly inched the door open, hoping that the shitty apartment wasn't a mess like the last time she'd returned. There was no such luck for her; the floor groaned in a way that made her cringe as she sidestepped a stray shirt on the floor.

He'd been doing it again. The smell of pot made her wrinkle her nose in a more than distasteful manner. How many times had she come home to this? Too many. The couple had enough trouble paying the rent as it was without having his reckless side entertain himself with drugs. All kinds of illegal drugs suited his fancy.

There he was, sprawled out on a beaten mattress on the floor, an empty beer bottle in his hand.

This was not the man Whatshername had fallen for, this wasn't the man who had held her close in the middle of the night and sensually traced his fingers across her back. This wasn't the man who had sold off his guitar to buy her a real diamond necklace for their two-month anniversary. This wasn't the cute, new kid who had shown her a good time and made her believe that he returned her feelings.

Saint Jimmy didn't love her. She hated Jimmy, the name he insisted to be called nowadays since becoming the ringmaster of their group of delinquents.

Whatshername longed for the days before the pill-popping and the blades drawing liquid ruby across his hand. Just for fun, the "Saint" had said while stoned. What did you expect?

She knelt beside the shell of the man she'd once known, smoothing the hair out of his face. She was sick of this; he was high or drunk all the time. Why? Did she do something? When had Jimmy and the drugs taken over? Was he sick of her?

Whatshername pried the bottle out of his hands and bit back the urge to smash the glass over the monster's head.

She didn't love Jimmy, but that was what he'd become. The rebellious teen had become a drug-dealing cult leader who no longer gave a fuck about his girlfriend. It hurt to admit it, but Whatshername knew that her heart was no longer his; she doubted that there was little of the man she loved left in him. She would do what she had to before it turned ugly. Uglier- that was more like it.

Shaky fingers dialed the phone number of an old friend. Not jittery from fear of hurting him, but rather from worry that he'd harm her after.

Is this what it's like to fall out of love? She asked herself. Why don't I feel like a cruel, heartless bitch of ice?

(Hey, thanks for reading! This is just a JimmyxWhatshername two-shot set during the break-up.

I didn't originally intend for this to be a prequel to my other fanfiction, Hetalian Idiot, but that's what it's starting to look like. I hope you enjoyed this, I'll put up Jimmy's part when something hits me.)