Married In My Mind

The drive from our miserable first date to my apartment was quiet. Frank had insisted on driving, in spite of his hangover, which left him moody and brooding. My brain was in some sort of awful purgatory between exhaustion and pre-show jitters, which left me with little to talk about. If the silence between us bothered Frank, he didn’t say so.
Sometimes I had bad days, sometimes Frank had bad days. On bad days, the silence was like an unspoken agreement between us. After everything we’d been through over the years, we were too comfortable to need to fill the gaps with small talk.
We were both having a bad day, I realized, after the fifth or sixth time I stole a glance over at him. He still looked partied-out and exhausted, though some of the color had returned to his cheeks. His hair was still a messy dark nest and on top of that. He sort of needed to shave, but the stubble only made him look hotter. His blue jeans were wrinkled and coffee stained. He chewed on his lip as he focused on the road in front of him.
Every time the car rolled to a stop at a traffic light, he would turn his head and smile at me. And every time, I would shoot him a small nervous smile. It almost felt more like a nervous tick than an intended gesture. It was like neither of us could get comfortable with the idea of being comfortable together.
But sometimes Frank’s hand would slide off the steering wheel and end up on top of my hand. For a split second I could let it all go, but not for more than a split second. If I let myself get comfortable I was going to end up forgetting how to hide it.

I found myself nervous when the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot outside of my apartment complex. The feeling only grew as I stepped out of the car into the cold, early afternoon. My brain had been through the same panic dozens of times. I felt my heart skip when Frank grabbed my hand and lead us towards the building.
Would it be totally out of line to shove him down onto my couch and take advantage of him the second we got inside? Part of me felt like it would only be natural to indulge such a compulsion. He was hungover and my nerves were shot, and he’d been the one to say orgasms fixed everything after all.
The eventuality of intimacy between us was killing me. We technically still had a few hours to kill before we had to leave for the show... I needed to get myself presentable but that still left plenty of time for other things.
It was impossible to tell if any of this had even crossed Frank’s mind just by looking at the back of his head as he pulled me up the stairs. I held my breath as I pulled out my keys and unlocked my front door. I could feel his proximity to me like a phantom limb.

As soon as I shouldered the door open, Frank pushed past me and dropped onto my couch, still bundled up in his winter overclothes.
“What are you-?” I started to ask.
“This hangover isn’t going to fix itself.” He offered sarcastically, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and pushing them onto his face, “I feel like dying. Please put me out of my misery.”
“Can I get you anything?” I asked, leaning against the back of the couch and gazing down at him.
“No… just go pretty yourself up.” Frank yawned, nuzzling against the couch cushions, “Unless you’re feeling violent, in which case...”
“What do you mean?” I asked, swallowing hard.
“I dunno. Sometimes you show up covered in blood instead of hairspray...” Frank said, smiling fondly.
“But I don’t wanna cover myself in blood if we’re going out later...” I mumbled, feeling myself blush. I could see a distorted version of myself in the reflection of his sunglasses and I absolutely hated it.
“I was thinking we could stop by my place and shower off after the show... so it doesn’t matter if you wanna get gorey.” Frank shrugged, “But if you put blood on then I have to put blood on too or else I won’t be able to touch you without everyone knowing…”
“It would be sort of an interesting metaphor, I guess?” he continued, lowering his sunglasses on his nose to gaze up at me with his tired, pretty eyes, “You know, blood on my hands... But I’m too hungover for that, Gee.”
“You were the one who suggested blood in the first place.” I scoffed.
“Well, yeah. Blood makes you happy.” he argued, “And you seem kinda, I dunno, tense today… Maybe blood would help?”
I could think of plenty remedies for the tension I was feeling… and blood certainly wasn’t one of them. I wanted to tell him I was going to lose my fucking mind if he didn’t fucking kiss me soon but there was no trace of a dare in his eyes. The look he was giving me was sleepy and content, absent of any invitation to straddle him.
“...I don’t like the way it stains my skin.” I sighed weakly, trying to ignore the ache.
“Hairspray it is then.” Frank grinned, pushing the sunglasses back over his eyes and slinging an arm over his face.
There was no way the tension was all in my head. Every inch of me was still buzzing with it. I had no idea how he was acting so chill.
“There’s probably a comfortable way to sleep with sunglasses on. I’m going to figure out what it is…” He mumbled to himself as he rolled over onto his side.
He still hadn’t even bothered to take off his shoes or winter coat. His untouched coffee cup sat on the coffee table in front of him, getting colder by the moment. Frank had to be really sick if he wasn’t even touching his coffee. I decided the unreciprocated lust had more to do with his hangover than anything else. I still left the room feeling insecure and unkissable.
I thought about offering to let him crash out on my bed while I got ready, but I was quickly grateful I hadn’t offered. A small pile of t-shirts formed on my bed in my efforts to find something that would make me feel kissable. Burying the person I wanted to kiss under a large pile of garments that made me feel unkissable seemed sort of counterproductive.
While I was struggling to pick something out of the existing pile, Ray texted me to confirm the setlist for the show later, asking if Frank was cool with it, too. It was weird he knew we were still hanging out. My brain still hadn’t adjusted to the idea that it was okay for Ray to know we were hanging out. I wasn’t comfortable being comfortable. I didn’t bother waking Frank up to ask because I already knew he’d say he didn’t give a fuck as long as the last song we played was heavy.
Whatever I wore would be so sweat-soaked it wouldn’t matter how it looked in the end. I never felt kissable when I was sweat-drenched anyways. I grabbed a black t-shirt off the top of the pile and pulled it over my shoulders without turning it right-side out.
I found a package of blood capsules in my makeup box and slid them into my back pocket. As long as I didn’t forget about them and sit on them and terrify everyone with my bloody ass, they’d turn out to be the extra bit of flare the show needed.

Frank rose from the dead an hour or so later when I was fussing with my hair in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Your shirt’s inside out…” He commented in a raspy voice as he floated into the bathroom and leaned against the wall behind me. I glared at his reflection in the mirror. He had shed his winter layers at some point during his sleep. The sunglasses remained. His hair was somehow messier than before. The wild mess had flattened where his head had been resting on the arm of the couch.
“It’s supposed to be inside out...” I intoned, rubbing styling gel into my hair.
“Oh... Right.” He smirked.
“Does it look dumb or something?” I asked nervously, scrunching up my nose as I glared at myself in the mirror.
“No.” He said, shaking his head, “That’s not what I meant.”
“Should I change?” I asked.
“No.” He insisted. “You look great.”
“Well, like, I’d thought about wearing-”
My response died in my throat as I watched Frank pull his t-shirt up over his head. It took me a moment to figure out what the hell he was doing. He fumbled with the garment in his hands for a few seconds before he put it back on inside-out.
“See?” He said, pulling at his collar as he looked himself over in the mirror, “It looks cool...”
“You didn’t have to do that…” I trailed off weakly.
“Yes I did. Or else you’d change your shirt another twenty times and we’d be late for soundcheck.” He smirked, “And if we’re late for soundcheck after the shit I pulled last night, Ray will fucking strangle us... or, me, anyways…”
“Where were you before the show yesterday, anyways?” I asked, following behind him as he floated out of the bathroom.
“Oh uh. I don’t know?” He mumbled, ghosting down the hallway.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I laughed nervously, grabbing my coat off the back of the couch and pulling it over my shoulders.
“I uh… Well, okay, so, after I thought you’d like... um... fucked Bert or whatever… I kinda freaked out and got really drunk. Like, way too drunk...” He explained, pulling on his own coat.
“Oh.” I mumbled, feeling an immense pang of guilt.
“I guess I even called Jamia and she came over and we like… talked... for like, hours and hours, apparently. She’s a fucking angel because I don’t remember any of that…” He laughed.
“When I woke the next day, I was hungover and still… really fucking mad at you. And I just like, wanted you to like…” He paused to swallow hard, “I just wanted you to realize you needed me or something... so I wanted you to think I wasn’t gonna show up. I wasn’t really thinking straight. It was fucking stupid and childish. I know that now...”
He reached for my scarf and handed it to me.
“I’m really sorry, Gerard. That was really fucked up of me.” He huffed, brushing his bangs out of his face.
“I’m sorry too...” I said softly, “I shouldn’t have made you think that Bert and I…”
“Water under the bridge, right?” He interrupted. “Anyways we really have to be on time tonight. Ray’s letting me borrow one of his guitars so we have to be on time for sound check...”
I nodded and followed him out the door, trying to figure out if there was anything left in the world I could do to prove to Frank that I needed him.

Frank turned the radio on as soon as we got back into the car. The silence that had settled between us on the drive earlier in the day was hidden under a layer of music we both hated. As the car pulled onto the interstate, I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea that Frank could possibly think I didn’t need him. It was absurd. I’d alway need him. He’d always be my friend. He’d always be my rhythm guitarist. That level of insecurity made no fucking sense to me. The passing billboards and exit signs offered me no answers, neither did the awful music that was playing.
As Frank pulled the car off at the exit for the venue, I realized we hadn’t discussed going inside the venue together. Mikey had been able to see it so easily. It felt like everyone else would be able to look at us and just know. It would be obvious we’d been together all day if we walked into the venue at the same time. It would be almost as obvious that something was up if we showed up at different times. It was normal for band members to show up at a venue at the same time, I told myself.
Frank seemed oblivious to our impending doom. He was way more interested in finding a parking space close the venue. He mumbled under his breath as he backed the car into a tight space.
“Ready to go?” He asked as he killed the engine and opened the door.
“Wait.” I insisted, trying to convey my confusion and lust and fear all in one furrowed brow.
“We were supposed to be there like three minutes ago, Gee.” Frank grumbled, “Ray is going to use his guitar to make a coat out of my skin if we don’t get inside right now. He’ll tie you down with amp cables and make you watch if he knows you had something to do with this. What could we possibly be waiting for?”
“Well like, are you sure it’s cool for us to show up together?” I asked timidly.
“You can’t be serious.” Frank laughed.
“But I am, Frank.” I countered, “Brian’s gonna be in there, isn’t he? ...I don’t think we should be seen together.”
“Now that you’ve finally got me, you don’t want to be seen with me. I see how it is.” Frank teased, sliding out of the car.
I opened the passenger-side door to chase after him, totally smacking the door against the car parked in the next stall over with a loud bang. There was a small dent and an accompanying, telltale scrape of paint. I made sure nobody was looking before slamming the car door and booking it after Frank.
“Quit being so melodramatic. Nobody fucking cares about us, Gerard. I fucking promise you that.” Frank sighed, linking our arms together as I fell into step beside him.
“Easy enough for you to say...” I mumbled.
The sun was starting to sink on the horizon, turning the sky a dim yellow shade that reflected against the sea of parked cars. The music venue loomed in the distance. A few tour busses curled around the back of the building. In the distance I could see an LED banner, scrolling the venue’s list of shows.

PRESENTING: MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE ----- 2 NIGHTS IN NJ flashed across the screen.
“You know something? It’s not my fault everyone knows you want me...” Frank laughed, squeezing my arm.
“That’s not funny, Frank.” I moaned, feeling my cheeks burn, and tugging my arm away, “That is the opposite of funny.”
“Jamia says I should be flattered...” Frank mused, still smirking, “And I think she’s right. So uh, I guess I ought to be thanking you right now...”
“Why does Jamia have anything to say about this?” I groaned. “And why on Earth would you be thanking me?”
“For writing so much porn about me.” He mumbled under his breath. “Everyone’s gonna think-”
“It’s not porn! It’s art!” I snapped, not sure if I could blush any harder.
“First of all, PORN IS ART!” He yelled, like we were engaged in some kind of twisted rendition of ‘the penis game.’ He paused to smirk at me for dramatic effect. “You taught me that.” He continued, “And anyways, secondly-”

“Well this relationship got weird fast...” a voice interrupted, startling the shit out of both of us. We both took a step away from one another as quickly as possible. I craned my neck to find Bob staring at me. If we were going to hide an entire relationship we were going to have to learn how to not look so guilty before anyone had even accused us of anything.
“Ray told me to come out here and look for you guys...” Bob went on, puffing on his cigarette, “I only agreed because I wanted to get the fuck away from him. I didn’t think I’d actually find you out here.”
“Oh well, Gerard and I were just working some things out...” Frank laughed.
“You know Ray wants to kill you both, right?” Bob asked with a small smile, matching our pace as we all slumped towards the entrance.
“Yeah.” Frank sighed, “I wanna kill us too. Well, mostly Gerard actually. He’s making things weirder than they already have to be…”
“Am not!” I snapped.
“Okay. Well, Bob’s here now so we can be seen entering the building together.” Frank offered, in a voice dripping with bitterness and sarcasm, “Because the fact that we both play in the same band and said band has been booked to play here in a few hours obviously wasn’t enough of a justification for you…”
“Well when you put it like that…” I trailed off, as Frank threaded his arm through mine again.
“I stand by my previous statement... You guys are weird together.” Bob mumbled, flicking the end of his cigarette against a parked car.


The glare that Ray shot in our direction once we were in his line of vision would have made the devil himself tremble. After Frank’s previous commentary, his guitar just looked like a really expensive, hyper-customized murder weapon. He had just plugged it in and was working with the guitar techs to test out the PA system.
“Found them.” Bob called across the empty concert hall. His voice echoed off of the high ceilings.
“How nice of you to show up!” Ray offered in a cheery, sarcastic tone. “Frank, would you come help me check the monitors?”
“Sure, Ray.” Frank supplied, floating off towards the stage.
“Come on… Mikey’s in the green room.” Bob said, nodding his head away from the stage.
I glanced back at Frank as he ungracefully crawled up onto the stage instead of taking the stairs to the side. Ray just stared at him like an annoyed parent.
“Your boyfriend’s not going anywhere, dude.” Bob mumbled, “Come on.”
“Don’t call him my…” I paused to glance around the empty venue space. A bored-looking sound tech manned the board at the back of the giant room.
“Uh, yeah.” Bob agreed, even though no one had asked a question.
I followed Bob down a long, industrially lit hallway to the green room. The backstage portion of the venue looked a lot more like a hospital than I remembered, even though I’d been there less than 24 hours before.
“You forgot to bring me coffee.” Mikey said, the second I walked into the green room.
“Mikey, there’s a coffee machine right there.” I said, pointing towards the well-loved old coffee machine on the table with the rest of the hospitality the venue had laid out.
“All they have is folgers.” Mikey groaned.
“I’m sorry… I forgot.” I shrugged.
“You forgot or you… were busy?” Mikey asked, narrowing his eyes.
“...Both?” I offered weakly.
“Gross, Gee.” Mikey scowled, “Just gross…”
“Wait a minute,” I said, sliding out of my coat, and collapsing onto one of the couches in the room,“Was ‘busy’ a euphemism for-”“Bob, tell Gerard he’s gross.” Mikey whined, dramatically dropping onto the couch beside me.
“Sorry, what?” Bob asked, “I wasn’t listening.”
Mikey let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and an angsty groan, pulling out his phone and typing out a text. I glanced over at Bob for help, only to find that he had dropped onto the couch across from us and was also enveloped in texting.
The thing about soundcheck was that we had to be early to the venue, but after a few moments of working with the sound engineers, we had hours to kill. And those hours always crawled by as slowly as possible. Frank wandered into the room a few minutes later, dropping his coat onto the back of the couch Bob was sitting on, partially covering Bob’s face.
“How come you didn’t remind Gerard to get me coffee?” Mikey asked as soon as he looked up and saw Frank.
“Uh… wait, what? Since when is that my job?” Frank scoffed.
“Since you were with him all day.” Mikey explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Just always assume Gerard is supposed to bring me coffee.”
“Ok. Whatever.” Frank shrugged, “Anyways… Do you guys know what’s up with Ray besides… well…”
“He’s just stressed out about those executives hanging around Brian, I think?” Bob said, “He really wants to go on tour.”
“Do you really think they’d really decide against booking a tour?” Mikey scoffed.
“I’ve heard they’re really cracking down on bands that party a lot.” Bob said, “But we’ve got our shit together, mostly, so I don’t know what he’s so worried about. He’s just a tense guy I guess?”
“He needs to chill. He’s stressing me out.” Frank groaned sitting down beside Bob and resting his head on Bob’s shoulder. Bob side-eyed him suspiciously but didn’t move away.
“What the fuck do you have to be stressed out about?” Bob asked, reaching out a hand blindly flicking at Frank’s face, “You’re like, the only one of us that’s getting laid.”
“Bob!” Mikey squeaked
“Yeah. Uh, well…” Frank trailed off, smiling and blushing. His gaze wandered all around the room. Anywhere that wasn’t me.
“I need a cigarette.” I said, shooting up and pulling on Mikey’s arm.
Mikey continued to scroll through his phone, pretending he’d been ignoring me completely.
“Mikey.” I hissed, feeling the room get stiflingly awkward. Mikey let out a sigh and slowly lifted himself off the couch like it was the most physically difficult task anyone had ever requested of him.
Bob and Frank were completely silent as I dragged Mikey over to the fire exit and out into the cold without even stopping to put my coat on.

“This thing with you and Frank is going over really well with everyone else...” Mikey pointed out, oozing sarcasm as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, “You should’ve put a coat on. It’s cold out here.”
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious. So glad you could take a moment to remind me why I never come to you for advice…” I countered, reaching for his pack to steal a cigarette for myself.
“Here.” Mikey mumbled around the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He took off his scarf and passed it to me. I wrapped it loosely around my shoulders and shivered in the cold.
“But seriously,” Mikey went on, “Is it getting serious? Do I need to give him the ‘if you hurt my brother you die’ talk?”
“I think that whole speech is kind of implied… in the fine print of the contract I made him sign the first time we held hand” I mumbled, accepting Mikey’s lighter and flicking it under the end of my cigarette.
“I want to make sure it’s really fucking clear.” Mikey offered, exhaling tendrils of smoke. The wind quickly carried them away.
The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. The sky still faintly glowed orange out across the parking lot.
“You know, I never asked… Do you approve of him?” I asked, handing Mikey his lighter back.
“Have you approved of everyone I’ve dated? You don’t need my approval, Gerard.” Mikey sighed.
“But this is different. You know Frank. He’s in our band. You have to tour with him and shit...” I said.
“I think… he’ll either be really, really good for you or really, really bad for you. You’re both really… intense.” Mikey mused, “It all really doesn’t matter to me though. If you love him, you love him. The rest of us will just have to deal with it.”

“What about the stuff with my uh… writing? Do you think the band will ever move past it?” I asked.
“Bob’s tried to make a few jokes about how and Frank must be exceptionally... kinky.” Mikey offered hesitantly, “I’ve punched him every time… more for my benefit than for yours… No offense.”
“None taken.” I shrugged. “Anyways, what did you all day?”
“I didn’t really do anything worth mentioning, but thanks for the subject change.” Mikey laughed.
“Any time.” I laughed, trying to keep my teeth from chattering.
“We can go back inside if you’re cold.” Mikey suggested, “I don’t really wanna smoke this and I know you don’t either… you just wanted to get away from Frank.”
“Uh. Yeah. I don’t know if I can face Frank right now…” I admitted sheepishly.
“Ah.” Mikey nodded, “Well, if Bob says anything else I’ll punch him. Cool?”
“Cool.” I agreed.
Mikey leaned against the fire door, looking surprised when it didn’t give way under his weight. I put a hand on the door, reasoning he just didn’t weigh enough to open the door. The door didn’t budge under my weight either. The door was locked from the inside.
“Um, should we knock?” Mikey asked.
“Nah. Let’s just go around.” I said.
“We could just call Bob or Frank. Bob was just on his phone…” Mikey pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s not necessary.” I insisted.
“Uh. Ya. Sure. Okay. Whatever dude.” Mikey shrugged with a small smirk, following after me as I lead him away from the door. I could see another door down a short set of stairs.
“This way.” I said, beckoning for him to follow me down the stairs.
“Gee, are you okay? You seem kinda, I dunno… off.” Mikey commented.
“I’m fine. Just… I dunno.” I stammered, putting my weight against the door.
It swung open with a loud squeak. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the room beyond. The place was dim and covered in cobwebs. Brooms and empty trash bins were strewn around the concrete floor. Discarded beer cans lay in a small pile in the corner.
“Whoa. I’ve never been down here before.” Mikey gushed, reaching up to brush a cobweb out of his hair, “It’s kind of cool... Frank would hate it, though.”
“Great. Let’s stay down here forever...” I sighed, “I bet no one would even care if we smoked cigarettes down here.”
“Yeah but it’s still cold.” he pointed out, “And you left your jacket up in the green room. Come on, I think I see a door through there.”
“I hope I develop hypothermia and catch a cold and can’t sing.” I mumbled, following Mikey through the room and nearly tripping over an empty beer bottle. To our luck, the door across the way wasn’t locked. It swung open under Mikey’s nonexistent weight, even. Beyond the door was a set of stairs that led up to the main hallway.
“Huh, that must’ve been like, the janitor storage or something…. This is fun, Gee,” He mumbled.
“Lets just find a place where I can quietly off myself…” I grumbled.
“Maybe after the show…” Mikey joked, opening a random door and peaking inside.
“I hope the ceiling collapses in the showroom and they have to cancel the show.” I went on, leaning against the wall beside the door, “I hope it kills me, but just me… And I hope no one comes to my funeral because it’s raining so hard...”
“Damn. You know… you’re really fucking tense for someone who spent all day fucking our rhythm guitarist.” he scoffed.
“We didn’t-”
“Oh shut up. You’re an awful liar.” Mikey interrupted in a bored tone. He must’ve been satisfied with whatever he saw because he closed the door and continued down the narrow hallway. It was quiet aside from our voices and footsteps, echoing softly.
“I’m not lying Mikey.” I countered in a hushed tone.
“Gerard,” Mikey sighed, as we rounded the corner and started down another hallway that looked vaguely familiar, maybe, if I squinted, “I really don’t want to go into details but there’s no way you guys haven’t hooked up already… Do you think this place is haunted, by the way?”
“Just ask Frank. He’ll probably threaten your life instead of gloating about it.” I offered, opening another random door and peaking inside, finding a tiny office, “Of course it’s haunted.”
“Gerard, you really can’t fool me.” Mikey intoned, glancing over my head at the weird stacks of overflowing files, “You both showed up with your shirts inside out. And you forgot my fucking coffee… There’s really only one explanation here.”
“It’s not what it looks like.” I said, spinning around to glare at him. “Frank and I haven’t done anything. You have no idea how much I want him, Mikey. We have this like, agreement… It’s complicated. It’s torture, really. ”
“Then why are both of your shirts inside out?” Mikey smirked.
“Because…” I sighed, “We-”
“Gerard turned his shirt inside out and then he didn’t like the way it looked...” Frank’s voice echoed down the hall, “So I turned mine inside out too. I was worried he’d never leave his apartment if I didn’t...”
I wished so badly that my face could twist up and disappear. Actually, no, I wished my whole body would disappear. I couldn’t believe Frank had heard me talking about him. About us.
I stole a glance down the hallway and saw Frank smirking back at me. It took a second for my brain to register that he wasn’t alone either. Jamia, of all people, was standing next to him. I silently wished for death to take me.
“Oh. Hey Jamia!” Mikey offered cheerily, cutting the awkward silence.
“Hi Mikey!” She echoed, smiling back at us, “... Hi Gerard.”
“Uh Gerard,” Frank said, clearing his throat, “Jamia was wondering if she could maybe talk to you for a minute?”
“Oh he’d love to.” Mikey snorted, “We actually just found a place you wouldn’t want to go, Frank. Lots of spiders...”
“Perfect.” Jamia giggled, starting down the hallway towards me and Mikey.
I looked over at Frank and he just… fucking winked at me. The motherfucker. Oh God. I felt like a wounded animal being cornered by a predator with a locking jaw. Why on earth would Frank want to ambush me with his recently-ex girlfriend before our show?
“But I don’t have a coat… It’s cold.” was the pathetic complaint that came out of my mouth.
“We’ll only be a minute, I promise...” Jamia called back.
“You can borrow mine?” Mikey offered.
“Yeah. That’ll fit me for sure.” I scoffed.
“You can borrow mine, Gee!” Frank’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Like you’re any bigger than me.” Mikey called out.
As I watched Mikey walk away from me, I told myself I’d remember the moment forever so I could remind him of it when we were both in hell together. He glanced back at me over his shoulder, completely ignoring my silent, pleading look and just fucking... grinning at me.

“Uh, Hey…” Jamia started once she was close enough to speak at a regular volume.
“Hey.” I said, trying my best to smile as I made eye contact with the terrifying woman before me. My genuine fear of such a small, cheerful individual might have seemed misplaced, but she represented so many of my mistakes. I couldn’t help but fear her.
I glanced past her and saw Frank and Mikey round the corner in the distance, leaving us completely alone. Jamia and I had always been friends by proxy of the fact that we had Frank in common. I’d hung out with her here and there at parties the record company hosted. Frank had met her through our previous label, after all... but all of that had been when I was her boyfriend’s bandmate. Now that I was her ex-boyfriend’s boyfriend slash bandmate, all bets were off. I braced myself for the part where she started screaming and crying.
“So uh, are you gonna show me this spider room or what?” She asked calmly.
“Depends… Are you gonna kill me down there?” I asked timidly, “Cause if you are, there’s a few more things I need to say to Mikey real quick...”
“No Gerard.” Jamia laughed. “Why would you think that?”
“Well…” I trailed off, beckoning for her to follow me back to the janitor’s breakroom.
“Actually, Gerard, I’ll just come right out and say it…” Jamia started, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Frank and Mikey were out of earshot, “I just wanted to make sure we were cool.”
“You and me?” I asked, glancing over at her.
“Yeah. Are we cool?” She repeated, shooting me a hopeful look
“Jamia…” I sighed, “I mean, yeah, we’re cool? I guess? But I fucking… ruined your relationship with Frank? You guys were fucking highschool sweethearts...”
“Ah. I was worried you might think that.” She sighed, with a small smile, “You didn’t ruin our relationship at all, Gerard. It had nothing to do with you as much as it had everything to do with you. You know that, right?”
“No.” I breathed, trying not to laugh hysterically, “What does that even mean? You broke up right after all my writing got discovered. Are you trying to to tell me that’s just a coincidence?”
“It’s complicated. Frank and I were on thin ice as it was...” she explained, shaking her head, “Has he really let you think that it was your fault all this time?”
I kind of just gaped at her, not knowing how to answer.
“I’m going to kill him.” she sighed, “This is exactly what I was worried about.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing around to see if Frank had hidden any other ex-girlfriends he wanted to throw at me while he was at it.
“He just… it’s like you said, we were highschool sweethearts. He still treats relationships like he’s in fucking high school.” She offered, “Come on, show me the damn spider room…”
I lead her down the set of stairs I thought Mikey and I might’ve come up. I could see another set of stairs further down the hallway that looked almost identical.
“This place looks like a fucking hospital.” Jamia commented.
“Uh… yeah… That’s what I said.” I mumbled, pushing through the door, “Anyways, you were saying?”
The room looked different when I entered it from the other side. It was creepier somehow. It seemed smaller, darker, colder, filthier…
“Oh wow. Frank really would hate it down here.” she laughed, eyeing the rust stains on the cement walls, “Anyways…. Frank and I had been together for so long, you know? We were sort of already over each other when we broke up. It was sort of, thanks to you, but not because of you.”
“If that’s your way of politely saying I ruined everything, I swear to God…” I moaned.
“No, really. It was like…” She mused, “That whole scandal blew up and I realized that Frank deserved a shot at someone who could really love him. Even if that someone wasn’t you... The longer we stayed together, the longer I was keeping him from figuring that part of his life out..”
“I think we loved each other,” She went on, kicking at an empty beer can on the ground, “But we just weren’t… in love anymore. I dunno, I didn’t come to dissect my relationship with Frank. Mostly I just wanted to clear the air. I was over at his place the other night and I know you guys have had some misunderstandings about that kind of thing...”
“He told you about the Bert thing, huh?” I asked.
“Only about 50 times.” She laughed, “He was so drunk and so hurt. God, I’d never seen him so upset.”
“That was uh… very highschool of me actually, I suppose?” I shrugged.
“I’m not saying what you did was right, but I know how Frank can be…” She tutted, “I know how he’s been. I see how something like that ended up happening… What’s on the other side of that door?”
She pointed to the door Mikey and I had come through earlier.
“Parking lot.” I mumbled.
“Oh cool. Well, I don’t want to keep you…” She sighed, “I just wanted to make sure we were cool.”
“We’re cool.” I nodded.
“I couldn’t leave him before because... I didn’t know if he’d be okay without me.” She said, turning to push through the door back towards the hospital hallway, “But if he’s with you I think he’ll be fine.”
“Um, thanks?” I said, following her up the stairs.
“No, really. I think you’ll be good for him.” She went on, “He’s a lot of work, but he’s always loved you to pieces... I know you’ll love him right back.”
“Yeah.” I sighed.
I was waiting for someone to pull the carpet out from under me. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The narrow hallway was tiled with old, crinkled linoleum. I was waiting for there to be a catch. Jamia had practically given me her blessing rather than ripping my hair out. She was talking about Frank like he was a puppy I’d adopted, not a boyfriend I’d cruelly and unintentionally ripped from her loving arms.
“Coming here was my idea by the way...” Jamia said quietly, “Frank and I had planned this a long, long time ago. See, I have a friend who wants to fuck the guitarist in one of tonight’s opening bands. She’s gonna show up later though. Frank had promised to introduce us to him...”
“Oh. Uh, okay.” I laughed.
“I’m glad we talked though.” She said, as we rounded the corner back towards the green room. I could see Frank and Bob standing outside the door, engrossed in something on Bob’s phone. Bob took the opportunity to kick Frank in the shin when he wasn’t paying attention. Frank returned the gesture with a firm shove. Bob was so much bigger than him, he hardly moved.
“Me too...” I agreed softly, “Thanks for saying all that.”
“Someone had to.” She laughed.
Her singsong laughter floated down the hall. The second Frank heard it, he spun around to face us, eyes darting between the two of us.
“Everything cool?” He asked nervously.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Cool…” Frank grinned.
Bob’s gaze darted between the three of us in annoyed confusion. He wanted no part in whatever the fuck was going on. I could see it in his eyes.
“Uh, anyways, J, your guy’s in there.” Frank said, grinning at Jamia and nodding his head towards the door, “I need to, um, talk to Gerard for a moment.”
“You said you’d introduce me, Frankie.” Jamia tutted, furrowing her brow, “You know I hate talking to strangers.”
“Well, uh, Bob here would be happy to introduce you.” Frank said, shoving at Bob, who was busy death-glaring back at Frank.
As soon as Bob turned his gaze towards Jamia, the murder-gaze disappeared. A polite, cordial smile appeared in it’s place.
“I don’t want to watch them make out anyways.” Bob intoned with a huge grin, pushing open the door to the green room and holding it open for Jamia.
Jamia leaned in and mumbled something to Bob that made them both laugh.
I watched the entire interaction in silent horror like if I was quite enough I could just be absorbed into the walls and be forced to haunt the godforsaken Jersey concert arena forever.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Frank cleared his throat loudly.
When I glanced over at him he had a small, innocent smile on his lips.
“Hey.” he said, grabbing my hand. I glanced around frantically and tried to jerk my hand away but Frank only tightened his grip.
“What? People in bands hold hands all the time. It’s not weird.” He said, pulling me down the hall towards the abandoned corridor I appeared to be frequenting. One way with Mikey, another way with Jamia, a third time with Frank. How many times did I have to walk down a hall for it to qualify as a haunting?
“So um,” Frank started, slowing his pace as we rounded the corner, “I didn’t mean to sic Jamia on you like that. I’d forgotten she was even coming tonight and then she wanted to talk to you....”
“It’s fine. I like Jamia a lot actually, but I just… you could’ve fucking told me it like, wasn’t my fucking fault you guys broke up.” I pointed out bitterly.
“You could’ve told me how badly you need to get laid. Looks, like we both need to work on communicating.” He shot back, letting go of my hand to put air quotes around ‘communicating.’
“That’s hardly related.” I breathed, feeling myself blush.
“Whatever, Gerard.” He chuckled, spinning around to face me. The next thing I knew he was pushing his lips against mine. It was innocent and sweet and gentle. He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled himself closer to me, gently parting his lips. With his cool, sweet breath came this flood of relief. Even if he was being an asshole, he was still the only asshole I wanted to kiss.
“Frank, what if someone finds us like this?” I whispered, trying to pull away.
“Nobody’s fucking looking for us, Gerard.” he laughed against my lips, “I promise. Besides… it’s normal for members of a band to kiss like this. If anyone asks, we can just politely explain that it’s none of their fucking business.”Satisfied with his argument, he tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth playfully, daring me to kiss him back.
“I don’t want you to kiss anyone else the way you kiss me.” I blurted out softly, regretting it immediately after.
“Well, you won’t ever have to worry about that.” he whispered.
He leaned in and kissed me again, less innocently.
“By the way, why the fuck does everyone have this expectation that we’ve already hooked up?” he asked softly, “Don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up that everyone has an opinion on it? Cause like, that means everyone’s thought about it.”
“I mean, I guess it’s fucked up, yeah.” I supplied nervously.
“I just want it to happen naturally… unplanned…” he explained, ghosting his lips over my cheek.
“Me too.” I whispered.
He pushed me against the wall behind me and leaned into me. I could feel his breath on my neck and it made me weak.
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted it so bad?” He whispered against my ear, “You know you can tell me about stuff like that. We had plenty of time earlier… I would’ve been more than happy to give it to you.”
“Date first, right?” I gasped out softly, “But, you know, we have some time... Now, I mean.”
“There will be lots of opportunities to fuck in broom closets once we’re on tour.” He supplied deviously, “I want you on a bed.”
“There might be a bed here somewhere?” I mused, trying to keep my focus on not popping a boner, “The back seat of your car is sort of like a bed. It’s close enough...”
“We’ll just have to wait til after the show.” He sighed, “I’m cool with making out for now.”
Without further warning he crushed our lips together, pressing himself against me and shoving his tongue in my mouth. My brain short-circuited with the overload of sudden, frantic (but very welcomed) contact. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. His fingers tangled in my hair as we kissed. The whole, ‘not popping a boner’ plan was going south fast.
Frank only made matters worse when he abandoned my lips and went for my neck, tugging at the back of my hair as he bit sloppy, wet kisses into the tender skin.
“You’re going to mess up my hair…” I protested weakly.
I bit back a gasp as he slid a hand down my back and squeezed my ass. I was lucky he’d picked the side of my jeans the blood capsules weren’t in. I was surprised they’d survived as long as they had without bursting. I’d completely forgotten about them when we’d been in the car. With my luck, they’d probably melted together.
“You’re hair looks better messed up.” He offered, covering my mouth with his.
The taste of his mouth was so familiar, it was comforting. He was all cigarettes and sweetness. I got lost in it. I felt like a fucking teenager, sneaking around to make out with a guy I knew I shouldn’t be seen with.
“Oh, gross!” a familiar voice groaned, pulling me out of my silent bliss.
Frank and I broke apart to find Mikey at the end of the hallway, covering his eyes.
“Bob owes me money.” he grumbled, “And I need to find some way to burn that image out of my brain… quickly.”
“Wanna borrow my lighter?” Frank asked sheepishly.
“I’m not even going to humor that with a response.” Mikey intoned, blinking wildly at the floor, “Anyways, I guess people are starting to line up outside… Ray and Bob were gonna go say hi. Maybe sign some stuff. You guys wanna come with?”
“Uh… yeah!” Frank said, scratching the back of his head. “Sure. I can always play tonsil-hockey with your brother later.”
“Frank,” Mikey sighed, still keeping his eyes off of us, “Look, dude, just because Gerard likes you does not give you automatic immunity from knuckle sandwiches.”
“Who’s gonna give me a knuckle sandwich?” Frank laughed, “You?”
“If I have to.” Mikey shrugged. “Anyways, I’ll let you guys uh… whatever…”
Mikey turned on his heels and disappeared around the corner back towards the green room.
“Come on.” Frank said, grabbing my arm, “I wanna fight your brother.”
“Please don’t.” I commanded in a tiny, unmenacing voice as I followed after him.
“I’m just kidding, Gerard.” he laughed, “Lighten up.”
As we rounded the corner, the rest of the band was waiting for us with Jamia and some guys I didn’t recognize in tow. Frank let go of me as soon as he saw them. I thought about pointing out that he’d said it was normal for us to hold hands, but the many pairs of eyes on me kept me quiet. Frank shot off after Bob. I thought I could see him jump on Bob’s back, but it was hard to tell around Ray’s fro.
I slid into the green room to grab my coat, uninterested in ending up in the cold without one like I had earlier. By the time I slid the coat on and got back out to the hallway, everyone was already pretty far ahead of me. Jamia fell into step beside me at the back of the group as we all marched out of the venue.
“You guys are gonna have such a hard time getting around to a real honeymoon phase.” She said softly, leaning in so that only I could hear, “I don’t envy you.”
“A what?” I whispered nervously, feeling myself blush like crazy, “Frank and I aren’t like… We’re just dating. I don’t even know if he’s my…”
“Oh my god.” She laughed, “You have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about, do you?”
“No.” I mumbled, “I guess I don’t.”
I could hear the distant roar of the crowd as we passed through the empty show room. Techs were busy wheeling around trunks of equipment and speaking into their 2-way radios all around us. I thought I heard Frank yell out an insult.
“The honeymoon phase,” Jamia explained, threading her arm through mine, “Is that first part of the relationship where you’re just like, so busy falling in love with them that you can pretend that they’re perfect and that nothing will ever go wrong. You can pretend you won’t end up fighting about the same 5 things and hate them for how much they snore.”
“But… Frank doesn’t snore?” I pointed out dumbly.
“I’m speaking in hypotheticals.” She laughed, “But that’s beside the point, Gerard. What I’m trying to tell you is that you won’t ever get that part with him. You’ve both been deposited straight into reality. There’s no time to pretend.”
“I guess that does suck.” I said. The crowd outside got louder as we got closer to the door. Jamia pressed closer to me as we squeezed our way out into the night. The wind carried voices and a cocktail of cigarettes, perfume and BO.
“It doesn’t have to suck.” She pointed out, voice straining over the sounds of the crowd, “It just won’t be the fairytale it could be. Just… take care of him. Make sure he takes care of you. Your band is still going places in spite of everything. Remember that.”
“I will.” I said, “Thanks…”
“Don’t mention it.” She said, smiling at me before disappearing into the sea of anxious and excited show-goers.
I was lost in the crowd, stopping to talk to strangers with brightly-colored hair and nylon and tight black everything as fans started to recognize me. Nobody asked about the fanfiction. All anyone could talk about was the rumors that we’d be dropping a new album and without hesitation, I told them the rumors were true. Mostly I was just trying not to blow smoke in people’s faces or light anyone’s product-filled hair on fire as I chain-smoked through the half-hour before the doors opened to ticket holders. I’d almost forgotten about the blood capsules in my back pocket again and cursed myself for not putting them somewhere safe. They had definitely melted together in my pocket. I could just tell. It was nice to be surrounded by people that liked my music. For a moment I even lost my pre-show jitters. It felt nice to be so present, so in-the-moment. It was the first time in a long time that I felt like everything might actually turn out to be okay.Occasionally I’d look up in search of a familiar face. I wanted to see Frank. I needed the comfort I found in his smile. But I would’ve honestly settled for Mikey or Ray or even fucking Brian. I felt so alone in the neverending parade of unfamiliar faces.
When it was getting to be too much for me the doors finally opened and the attention of the crowd was refocused on getting inside. It was then that I realized I wasn’t wearing any sort of artist identification.
There was a chance the people working the doors would recognize me, but with the volume of people swarming in they’d be hesitant to let me through. I spun around in a circle as I tried to figure out what the fuck I was going to do. Being the only person who wasn’t pushing their way towards the door I’m sure I looked out of place. I reached for my phone to call Mikey or Ray or someone, when I felt a hand slide into mine. I expected to find a fan beside me and was surprised to instead find Frank grinning at me.
“Why do you look like a little boy that just lost his parents?” he asked, nodding his head towards the parking lot. I took it as a sign to follow after him, away from the bustling crowd.
“I forgot to get a badge earlier... I was just trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to get back inside.” I laughed.
“Like the people working the doors wouldn’t recognize you.” he scoffed, letting go of my hand to pull out a cigarette. He pointed the pack in my direction and I shook my head.
“It’s happened before.” I shrugged, “Where are you taking me anyways?”
Frank was still slowly leading us towards the parking lot. The sun had vanished completely. The endless rows of parked cars seemed to stretch on forever into the darkness. It felt wrong to follow after him somehow, in the same way it must’ve felt wrong for a ghost to try and leave its haunting parameters.
“I don’t know? We have some time to kill. Ray’s mostly forgiven me, but I think he’d get mad all over again if I disappeared for too long.” he said.
“Well… let’s go watch the opener then.” I suggested, beckoning for him to follow me back towards the venue.
“Wanna try to sneak in?” He asked with a glint of excitement in his eye.
“I can just call Mikey and have him come get us.” I said, shaking my head.
“Oh come on, what’re they gonna do? Kick us out?” he laughed, “We’re headlining.”
“Frank.” I sighed.
“Come on, Gerard.” He sing-songed, dragging me back towards the line of people crowding into the venue, “We’ll just duck under some punk kids and slide right in. I’ll break right and you’ll break left. Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”
He glanced back at me, devious expression softening as he took in my unease.
“Unless you don’t want to?” he amended.
“No, I want to… I just…” I sighed.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked, taking a step closer and framing my face with his palms. He didn’t even check to see if anyone was looking before leaning in and pecking my lips. It was so strange. It was almost like, in crossing through that creepy old breakroom with Mikey, I’d been deposited into an alternate reality where Frank wanted me more than anything else. The boy who stood before me cared more about us than his career and it was making my chest ache.
With that chest ache, I took my hand in his and lead us into the crowd, bending my knees slightly so that my head was no longer floating above those around me. Frank, given his height, had no problem blending in with the others. No one said anything to us about cutting in line. I could hear the security team up ahead, separating the ticket-holders and those on the willcall list into lines. I ducked behind a chubby kid with a giant mohawk, while Frank somehow squeezed behind a frail-looking girl in a duct-tape corset.
I guess I just didn’t get it. If security caught us, I’d have to go through the embarrassment of explaining that my rhythm guitarist just had a knack for getting into trouble. Getting caught was all I could think about. When I looked over at Frank, he obviously wasn’t thinking about it at all. He had the biggest grin plastered across his face.
The line was inching closer and closer to the entrance. There were just a few more people ahead of me.. And then there was just the dude with mohawk in front of me. As he stopped to show the security member his ticket, I made a break for it, charging into the darkness of the venue. I headed left, just as Frank told me to.
I was certain I’d gotten away with it, hiding behind a group of teenaged girls all standing in a circle… until I saw a yellow jacket and a flashlight headed after me. I thought about running but I didn’t want to trouble the security team any more than I already had.
“Can I see your ticket please, sir?” the guy asked, shining his flashlight in my face.
“I um… I don’t have one.” I said, biting my lip. I couldn’t help but smile at the stupidity of the situation Frank had thrown me into.
“I’m going to need you to come with me then.” he said, lowering his flashlight.
It was strange to do the walk of shame alongside a bouncer when I hadn’t technically done anything wrong. I could feel curious eyes of the people standing around focused on me.
“Excuse me, he’s with me. He’s my plus one.” Frank said, appearing out of nowhere to flash his badge at the security member like he’d done it a million times before.
“Is he on the list?” the bouncer asked, motioning for us both to follow him towards a table by the entrance.
“No. He doesn’t need to be on a list. He’s Gerard Way, frontman of My Chemical Romance” Frank shot back in a bitchy tone, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I’m going to need to see some ID.” the bouncer insisted.
“These two idiots are with me.” a familiar voice said. I turned to find Brian standing beside us, “I’ll take it from here.”
“Alright, Brian.” the bouncer huffed, “Please make sure all guests are on the list and have a valid form of ID.”
“Will do.” Brian nodded, “I apologize for any inconvenience.”
Brian waved a hand, gesturing for Frank and I to follow after him. Brian and Frank both showed their badges to backstage security and then we were in the fucking hallway again.
“I’m glad you two are talking again.” Brian said, “That makes my job easier. Sort of… What the hell was that?”
“It was my idea.” Frank said, He sounded more like a guilty little kid who’d just been caught shooting spit balls than a grown man who’d just tried to sneak into his own show.
“I couldn’t have figured that one out on my own.” Brian offered sarcastically, smiling at Frank.
Frank just shrugged, giving up on trying to be helpful.
“I’d just like to remind you two that there are some very important executives in attendance tonight. Please try your best to not do anything else to piss off the venue staff.” Brian instructed.
He was looking at Frank as he said it, too.
We both nodded silently.
“Now…” Brian sighed, “Ray is already up on stage, helping the opener set up. Why don’t you two go watch from the side of the stage? I’ve heard they’re really quite good… and Gerard, I’ll to it that someone brings you a security clearance badge?”
“Okay...” I offered weakly, “Thanks, Brian.
“No, thank you.” Brian replied sarcastically, “I’ll see you two later.”
The stage door was on the other side of the hall from the green room. Frank and I made our way to the stage, dragging our feet as we went.
“See that was fun.” Frank said softly, checking over his shoulder to make sure Brian was out of earshot.
“Brian hates us.” I groaned.
“He loves us.” Frank countered, “Or, he loves you anyways. He could totally tell I put you up to that.”
“Yeah, but I mean, I went along with it.” I said, holding the stage door open for Frank. He batted his eyelashes at me sarcastically and held his hand over his heart as he passed me.
“Whatever. Now you can’t ever say you never snuck into your own show.” he chuckled.

We found a place to sit that was out of the view from the crowd, behind the amps, stage left. In spite of Frank’s earlier bravery, he sat a considerable distance away from me. At first I felt this odd, overwhelming sense of rejection by it. If it had been a few hours earlier I probably wouldn’t have even noticed that it was two or three feet instead of two or three inches. But even Frank, being the little shit that he was, seemed to know when enough was enough and had no interest in pushing Brian’s buttons any further.
I tried to keep my focus on watching Ray help the other band’s guitarist out. The guitarist looked bored out of his mind, but at the same time, grateful that Ray was doing all the work. My attention drifted back to Frank, of course. When I looked over at him, he turned his head and winked, smiling at me sadly.
Eventually Ray was done helping the opening band and sat in the space between Frank and I to watch their set. Their music was a lot different than My Chem’s. It held the same macabre atmosphere but it was softer. There was no punk background. Ray was tapping his foot by the end of their set, while Frank, on the other hand, just looked bored.
Before I knew it, it was time for us to go on. The other band had warmed up the crowd and deserted the stage. The audience was buzzing, waiting for more. I was buzzing right along with them. I saw Mikey with his bass and Bob with his drum sticks across the stage. Brian was by their side, gazing around like a concerned parent. Ray handed Frank a guitar hooked into an extra long amp cable to give him free range of the stage.
Bob was the first to walk on, sitting behind the drumset and experimentally tapping against the kickdrum a few times. The crowd started to wail with anticipation. Mikey followed soon after, getting into position towards the front of the stage. Ray and Frank walked on after. Following Bob’s queue, they all started playing without me.
For a split second I tried to picture what it would actually be like without me, how rare it was that I was the person that was supposed to go up there and complete the picture, how easy it would be to lose it all somehow.
I snapped out of it when a sound tech handed me a microphone and gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. I took a step forward, and then, suddenly I was floating forward. Performing was always an out of body experience but usually I didn’t think about it. It hit me in such a strange and profound way. All of a sudden I was standing before hundreds and hundreds of people, drawling into the mic about my love-hate relationship with the only state I’d ever wanted to die in:

New Jersey.

“New Jersey.” I growled, “I fucking love you.”

And then I was singing. And then I was on the ground and singing, trying my hardest not to crush the blood capsules before I could get them into my mouth. And then I was leaning into the crowd. The sea of hands pulled at me and I pulled right back, gripping blindly at strangers all shouting the lyrics back at me.
In that moment I missed Bert. His presence. His pull. His energy.
The band transitioned into the second song without hesitation, dragging the crowd along with high, nervous energy.
I asked myself what Bert would do if he were here...
I turned my back on them for just a moment’s time during the closing guitar solo, reaching into my pocket to pull out the melted clump of blood capsules. I shoved them into the back of my mouth and turned back to the crowd, biting down hard on the capsules and letting them ooze out between my lips. I felt a little sorry for the kids in the front when some of the blood oozed onto them.
I knew better than anyone that it was never coming out of their band t-shirts, but if the expressions on their faces were anything to go by, they wanted it that way.
I spit some of the blood out. The taste was bitter and vile. It dribbled warmly down my chin and onto my shirt.
I heard a loud whine from Frank’s side of the stage and turned to make sure everything was alright. The look on his face went from horror to understanding to smug satisfaction and as he played his last riffs, he darted towards me, wrapping his arms around my neck and crushing our lips together. It was far from a polite peck. It was rough and desperate and… profoundly romantic in spite of the incredibly poor timing. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever heard such unholy screeches from my fans before, but I heard them that night, loud and clear.
So much for trying to not push any of Brian’s buttons… Abortive alarms were going off all over inside my head as I tried to grasp back at Frank, arms navigating ungracefully around the guitar that hung from his shoulders. The bitter taste of the fake blood mixed with his cigarette taste. It was awful. It was all I needed.

When Frank pulled away, he was a bloody smeary mess. Before I could even figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do next, he grabbed the microphone out of my hand and grimaced into it.
“I don’t, uh,” He faltered, still looking into my eyes, “I don’t know if any of you out here tonight have ever tasted fake blood but it’s… it’s disgusting. It’s awful. I’d… sorry this is gross, but I’d rather uh… I don’t know, what would you rather do Gerard?”
“I’d rather kiss a girl.” I deadpanned, grabbing the mic back from Frank, “A dead girl, I mean. I’d rather kiss a corpse.”
Frank laughed as he backed away to his corner of the stage, spitting out as much of the fake blood as he could.
We were so fucked. I could feel it in every fiber of my being.
But the show had to go on…
I made a signal at Bob, urging him to tick off into the third song, spitting out the slimey, bitter substance. By the fourth song, I could practically feel it staining my skin. By the fifth, it was caking onto my face in a sticky mass that clung to everything it touched. The microphone was sticky in my hands.
I was ashamed to say I could feel myself running out of steam.
Frank was making up for what I lacked, maneuvering around the stage with too much inconsiderate energy, like a puppy who’d been granted too long of a leash. Mikey and Ray stayed in their respective places, trying their best to keep out of his path of destruction.
I was having an out-of-body experience by the last song… I was singing all the right words, but none of them felt real. I didn’t feel real. I felt like I was on the verge of passing out.

By the time I was walking off stage, I was a sweaty, sticky, useless mess. If someone flicked me I would’ve fallen over with the force of it. I kept my eyes on the ground, not wanting to know what anyone was thinking about me and Frank, and our matching red-stained lips.
“Gerard, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” Frank was saying from somewhere to my right, “You know how I get when I’m out there.”
“Yeah, I know.” I nodded. Because I did know. I knew all too well.
“I love you.” He said, leaning in so no one else could hear.
“Back at ya.” was all I could muster, and then we were back on stage for the encore. If you asked me what songs we played, I couldn’t honestly tell you. All I know is that somehow, Bert was there and he had more fake blood with him. Someone had given him a mic and he had an arm wrapped around my shoulder as we belted out a few more songs. He emptied out a bottle of the vile, staining substance onto the crowd, thoroughly soaking the front row.
I was dead on my feet, which only made me feel alive somehow. I felt real again. Only reality could be so harsh. The bad feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away.
The sound from the bloodied crowd was deafening, and honestly, it was the only thing that made it all okay.

Finally it was over. Bert grabbed my arm and dragged me off the stage, handing me a towel and a bottle of water as soon as we were out into the miserable fucking hallway. I could tell I was going to have an issue with long, hospital-like hallways for a long time. I saw Mikey and Bob and Ray all file into the green room. Bert and I stayed under the painful industrial lighting of the hallway.
“How ya feelin?” Bert asked, staring into my eyes with concern.
“I uh, I don’t know.” I shrugged, “I’m really tired.”
“Yeah. You don’t look so good.” he offered, “Let me go find Brian and tell him I’m getting you the hell out of here.”
“I can’t.” I said, shaking my head, “I’d love to go somewhere with you. Anywhere. But uh, I have a date, actually.”
“A date?” Bert asked, his face lighting up.
“Yeah, um, with Frank.” I nodded.
“Fucking finally.” he laughed, “So no afterparty, then?”
“Not tonight.” I sighed.
“That’s a shame.” he grunted, “For me, anyways.”
“Yeah.” I agreed.
“Listen, uh, don’t let him wife you up too quick.” Bert said, “Promise you’ll still come party with me.”
“I promise.” I nodded, “Um, sorry this is unrelated, but how the fuck did you get in here?”
“I snuck in through the front entrance?” He said, “Why?”
“No reason.” I smiled, “Just… Thanks for showing up. I needed you out there tonight.”
“Anytime.” he laughed.

The stage door squeaked open and out popped Frank and Brian. The lower half of Frank’s face was still tinted a guilty pink.
“Gerard.” Brian intoned cheerily.
“Brian.” I nodded.
“Are you free tomorrow, around… 1pm?” He asked, “I know it’s early but it’s sort of… important.”
“I can be.” I shrugged.
“Good. Swing by my office, will you?” he requested.
“Sure.” I said, “But uh, what for?”
“Legal wants to have a chat with you and Frank here.” He said, “Nothing serious, just… business.”
“Uh, yeah.” I nodded, swallowing hard, “Business. Sure.”
“Great.” Brian said, patting my shoulder, “I’m gonna tie up some stuff with the venue people and call it a night. You did great out there, by the way.”
“Thanks, Bri.” I smiled.
“I’m proud of you.” He said, glancing between Frank and I.
“Thanks, Bri.” Frank repeated, finally speaking up.
“Have a nice night, you two.” he said, turning on his heels and disappearing back through the stage door. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed down the hallway.
It all had happened too fast for me to even process any of it.
"Just for the record," Frank said softly, resting his head on my shoulder, "I said 'blood on my hands,' not 'blood on my lips.'"
"Same difference." I sighed.
“Anyways um, I think we’re in a lot of fucking trouble.” he sighed.
“Yeah... I think so, too.” I agreed, turning to kiss the top of his head.

Notes

sorry this took so long~~~ i've been doing too many drugs lately so i'm uninspired//not in a good place to write.

just like, 3 or 4 updates left and this is fic DUSTED
i hope you'll all stay tuned.

i always read yr comments//msgs when i'm feeling down. they make me happy. keep them coming.

MILO IF YOU'RE READING THIS, HAPPY SUMMER! <3

kisses, xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxo
-m