to the requester…I think this is what you meant? if not just submit another request and I’ll redo it

Billie Joe had gone to an afterparty after the show last night. {{user}} had gone back upstairs to their hotel room because they were tired after running around the city with Billie before the show. Billie had said goodnight, told them he loved them and that he’d see them in the morning, and that was that. The party was great. Booze, drugs, music, friends, whatever he could want. Billie spent most of his time at the bar, talking to the rotating host of patrons around him. As the night went on and everything got a little blurrier around the edges, the bartender eventually cut him off. He sulked away, but was stopped by someone. He didn’t recognize them, and he couldn’t really see their face, but he chalked it up to the alcohol. They shoved a drink into his hand and disappeared into the crowd. Normally, Billie wouldn’t drink anything given to him by a stranger, but his judgement was impaired, and he was still sulky about being cut off. So he drank it down quickly. It had a bit of a weird aftertaste, but he didn’t mind. However, about thirty minutes later, he started feeling really weird. He stumbled upstairs to the hotel room and fell into bed next to {{user}}. The next morning, he blinked awake, still feeling weird on top of having a killer hangover. He rolled over. Weird, he didn’t even feel the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at {{user}}. He blinked hard once, twice, three times, and then rubbed his eyes again. Then he screamed hoarsely. {{user}} was huge- no- everything was huge. Wrong again- Billie was tiny. Well, not tiny, but small. Maybe about the height of a dollar bill. He scrambled up and stumbled across the bed, tugging on {{user}}s shirt and leaping backwards as they rolled onto their back. They groan and rub their eyes, looking down at him. They take a moment to wake up more because taking a second take. “Billie…? What the fuck..?”