*Hellos to the people reading my story, well chapter for now. I hope that you enjoy my story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I will say that I sadly do not own anything Green Day or Saint Jimmy. If I did own Saint Jimmy, I would give him a hug and a cookie. As I continue to blab on and waste your time to read this, I will say that I do not know how far I will be working on this story (unless you reviewers give me the power to continue). I am working on other stories at the moment including an original one of my own, so I will say that uploading will not become a huge thing for me. I will try to work on this as much as you reviewers will encourage me to keep going. Thanks again for reading/reviewing this chapter I wrote. Get comfs, Joda*

A slight rain crossed over the twilight sky soon drenching everything in its path. An occassional car passed by with a splash while stray cats and dogs ran for cover. Puddles began filling every hole in the unkept roads. All inhabitants of the suburbs were asleep by now. All except one boy who strolled the rather lonely cracked sidewalks home. His spiked black hair stuck out in odd ways that reminded the people in the suburbs of a hedgehog. They always ridiculed him for his sense of style: black, tight clothes, spiked cuffs, a crucifix dangling from his neck, and the smudged eyeliner around his icy blue eyes. He saw no problem with it, but apparently it was a problem to society when you were a punk-rock freedom fighter.

The boy clutched his face that throbbed horribly. It was clear that he would have a black eye in the morning. If only he was only a few inches taller. Then he would've beaten that asshole, Jonas, to all hell. But no. The boy was too lean to have a fair fight against Jonas, the muscular douche. So instead of kicking ass, his was kicked.

"It was all worth it." The boy muttered to himself. It was, in his mind, worth getting beat up just to make a stand fo himself. At least now Jonas's gang knew this boy was a threat to them. And they would do everything they could to take the boy and his gang out.

Blood dripped from his freshly cut and swollen lip, hitting the pavement below. He cursed to himself. He was going to get revenge on Jonas. Shit-talking his friends and his girl was just something the boy did not take very lightly. But this revenge would be set aside for later. Right now, he just wanted to bum a cigarette. Sadly, he had to go home for that. Not only did Jonas pummel the boy, he also stole the boy's pack of cigarettes. But there was only like three cigarettes left in the pack. It still meant that he had to go home to his witch of a mother. Maybe he would get lucky and she would be asleep so they could not have any encounters at all tonight. Who knows? Luck wasn't always on his side.

The boy jumped over the chain-link fence that chinked into the night, trying to alarm anyone it could about the boy's presence. No response came. Carefully, he snuck around the side of the lightly tanned house to his bedroom window. The window was always unlocked when he was out, which was often. The window provided the perfect way in-and-out into the house without risking a run-in with his mother. He definitely was not scared of her, he simply wasn't in the mood to deal with her bullshit. He never really was.

He wedged the white window open with a grunt. The window seemed to have teamed up with the stupid chain-link fence because it too made several squeaks while the boy fought to open it quietly. His buckled-down boots hit the blue carpet with a small thump! which made him cringe at the noise. Let's face it. The boy wasn't the best ninja in the world tonight... It was odd that his mother wasn't yelling yet. She has to be in a coma to not notice his loudness. The room was exactly the way he left it this morning. The ugly white-and-red plaid comforter sprawled across the twin-sized bed just as it did when he woke up. His clothes were scattered between his small dresser and closet area. His desk was still crowded with the papers he scribbled on. And his beloved red guitar was still next to its case. Good. Just to break the final silence, his stomach practically roared out in hunger. He hadn't eaten much at all today. A midnight snack would at least shut his stomach up. A midnight snack, or whatever was considered edible in the kitchen.

He kicked off his heavy boots, again making more noise, but it didn't worry him anymore. When his mother was asleep, she was out. The boy slowly snuck through the livingroom and to the kitchen where he became Pac-Man while trying to find something that would satisfy his stomach's demands. Waka Waka Waka. Pop from the nearly empty fridge. He would normally grab a beer, but something in his mind told him that he needed to wake up in the morning. Waka Waka Waka Waka. Potato chips from the shelf. That should do.

Finally back in his room, the boy fell onto his bed and turned on his small T.V. After an hour of mind-draining television and late night snacking, he gave up on the T.V. and grabbed his guitar. The instrument was beautiful. Its body was a bright shade of unmistakable red with a lovely ever-shiny polish. The guitar was like a precious token to him. He strummed a few notes on the guitar. A slight pause, then more notes were added and he soon began playing the one song that was forever etched into his fingers' muscle memory. It was a song composed by his favorite band, Green Day. The boy thought highly of them, thinking of them as musical geniuses and the epitome of punk rock stars. The song he played was "Jesus of Suburbia". A well-written song. It was a song that the boy absolutely loved playing. The song changed styles and speeds throughout its entire nine minutes. The lyrics to the song were more than just mere rhymes and thrown in words. The song itself was a whole new definition of rebels. The boy sang the every lyric to the music he created until his exhaustion finally took over. Placing the guitar guitar carefully in its case, he laid back down and dozed off into a heavy slumber

"Jimmy."

The boy's name was called out in a sweet voice that he knew all too well. He looked around the white room, wondering how the hell he got there and where the girl's voice came from. Nothing showed him a sign of answers. Where was the girl calling the spiky haired boy's name, tormenting him with her silky smooth voice?

"Jimmy."

"Where are you hiding?" He barely whispered through his cigarette-stained lips. He soon got his answer.

He's tackled from behind; the person pinned him on his back. Her giggle filled the air as she sat on his stomach. The boy could only smile when he laid his eyes on her.

"I missed you Jimmy." The blonde's eyes twinkled at him. Jimmy gave her a quick kiss, "Me too, babe."

The girl was so beautiful, and all his, in both his conscious and subconscious world. She rested her face on his chest and began tracing the swirling tattoo on the boy's neck with a sweet pink-lipped smile. There was just something about Jimmy's many tattoos that the girl loved so much.

"You are so pretty, Jimmy."

The boy slightly shivered at her fingers' caressing, "Not nearly as much as you are."

She leaned in and kissed his neck, right over his tatoo. Her fingers curled in his black hair, messing up his hair even more. With her free hand, the girl yanked at Jimmy's shirt, "So many amazing tattoos. I want to see them all again, Jimms."

The boy smiled at his pet name, then allowed her to rip off his shirt, unveiling more tattoos. The girl's' green eyes marveled at his inked skin. She always had a thing for his tattoos. For him. Jimmy sat up and pulled her onto his lap, hugging her close to his bare chest. Her arms tightened even more around his body, refusing to let him go for the longest time. The boy sighed into her soft, golden locks, "I love you, babe, you know that right?"

The girl smiled sweetly back to him, then barely whispered into his ear.

"Only if you know that I will always love you."

Jimmy stared at her, then laughed, taking the girl completely by surprise.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Jimmy snickered to himself again, "But we sound so much like some sappy couple."

"You are so right." The girl said with a grin, then she pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. His fingers tangled into her hair, moving it all out of her face as his back met the floor again with her on top of him. Her hands started to explore his body, and he soon did the same to her. Then came the last thing he heard from her soft, sweet lips.

"Jimmy, be my saint."

*'Kays, chapter done. Hit or Miss? You decide. Just know that I will respect what all of you viewers have to say and hope that one day you will all become successful in whatever you plan to do. Eat something healthy, start a new side project, get some rest, and make someone smile. Bye! Hearts, Joda.