I own nothing, and am simply an adoring Green Day fan who fell in love with this musical instantly.

Heather paced back and forth in her kitchen. The portable phone was in her hands, but she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted to do with it just yet. She walked into her living room, feeling too anxious to stay in one place for too long. Her husband, Charlie, was sitting on the couch.

"Do you really think I should call him?"

Charlie peered over his glasses at his barely thirty, but still stressed wife. She hadn't slept much last night, and her dark hair was visibly knotted. He knew that talking to this man would set her on complete edge for the phone call, but normally she would be alright afterwards. Of course, if she got what she wanted from the phone call, there would only be more anxiety.

"Do you really think you could handle this by yourself?"

Heather looked at her husband for a moment, glad she had not only a sturdy rock, but a source of wisdom. She marched over and kissed the top of his head, then forced herself back into the kitchen. Dialing the number was a bit tricky, but now that she realized that it needed to be done, she didn't hang up once he spoke.

Will had just sat down to grade papers on his couch when the phone rang. "Dammit," he muttered. He found the phone hiding between some cushions just in time to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Will."

Will bolted up from lounging on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair, which instantly made him look less like an adult and more like the seventeen year old boy she had changed. "Oh. Hey, Heather."

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Clearly." He wished that for once in his life she wouldn't turn him into a sour young man again.

"It's about... Aiden."

Opening the refrigerator, Will pulled out a beer. No way he was getting into one of these conversations without one. "What about him?"

"I'm worried about him." Will looked at the drink in his hand. Maybe he wanted to be sure to pay attention. Heather was able to handle most things involving their son. Still, he decided to press the phone between his shoulder and cheek, freeing his other hand to look for a bottle opener.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"He's just..." the eloquent Heather struggled for words. "I'm worried about him, because he's starting to remind me of Johnny. Hardly wanting to talk, not caring about school, bringing home friends, one more suspicious in the eyes of a cop than the next. And I'm having trouble defining between giving him the freedom he needs to stay a good kid with a side of the angst everyone has, and letting him run free and turn into a nightmare."

"Right. So, why are you calling me?"

"Well.. I figured that of our old gang, you'd be the best one to talk to him. Johnny's still a mess, going into a rant about Jesus of Suburbia every so often. Tunny doesn't seem to have an ounce of rebellion left in him that Aiden could relate to. Besides, you're his father." She listened to the silence pounding in her ears. "You don't understand, Will! He is Jesus of Suburbia, born of rage and love!"

"Love?"

Will immediately regretted the word slipping out of his mouth. He heard the hitch in her voice as Heather reminded him. "That was then and this is now. But he has this potential to know Johnny's pain. You can't let him realize that, and you can show him the proofs against going in that direction."

"So you send the once a drunken, high, deadbeat to teach the kid a lesson. Good job, Heather. No need to remind him that you're flawed." He cringed at the sting in his own voice.

"Will..."

"I'm sorry. Better he stayed with you than me. I'll just... I'll come over Wednesday, alright?"

Heather sighed. "See you then, Will."

The phone clicked, and Will rested his head on the wall. Always too much. Always too soon. But never enough.

Heather slumped back onto the couch beside Charlie. "He's coming over Wednesday."

Charlie put his arms around his wife. "He give you a hard time?"

"Not too bad. I wasn't very fair for my part, either."

"There's no perfect thing to say to him, and there's no perfect thing for him to say to you. I wish you'd both realize that." He muted the television. "You did the best you could, you know. You always do when it comes to Aiden."

She sighed. "Do you know the line between allowing freedom of expression and allowing him to morph into a monster?"

"I think very few people do. It's a tricky place, adolescence." He heard her delicate sniff, and knew she had a tear or two on her face. "But I also think that you called the best person you could. He's crossed the line and jumped back over."

They both sat on the couch, watching the actors' mouths move and seeing scenes play out with no sound. Aiden walked into the kitchen after he got home from school, dark as a storm cloud. Soon after, music was playing from behind the closed door to his room. Heather stood by the door a moment, remembering the little boy that she gave all her loving to.

Kids need more than one parent's loving, I guess, she thought.