3/13

I sat on my couch, eating my breakfast—which was technically brunch since it was already 1:30—on my small coffee table, what I used as a dining table. I was watching some show about space or something, I hadn’t really been paying attention. I lazily brought a forkful of scrambled eggs to my mouth. It had been two days since I got fired, two days since I put up those flyers. Only two days. I sighed. Life was even slower now that I didn’t work. I didn’t mind that much; I liked staying home, watching tv, reading comics. But I was looking forward to tryouts, and the 18th was coming slowly.

Finishing my breakfast, I got up and placed my plate in the sink, atop many other dishes that needed to be washed. I sighed. As long as I was staying at home all the time now, I might as well start cleaning. Sure, I was supposed to not give a shit and all that, but I didn’t want to live in filth. So, I did the dishes. It took a while, since I hadn’t done them in a long time. I swept the floors, cleaned out the refrigerator, and wiped the counters, too. By the time I was done with the kitchen, it was three. Good thing my apartment was extremely small, or this would take days. I grabbed the trash bags I had filled, put on my shoes, and went down the stairs out to the side of the building where the dumpsters were. I hauled the bags into the dumpster and was about to go back when I noticed someone standing there.

“Jesus Christ,” I said as I jumped back. Was I about to get mugged? I shook the thought from my head, I was being ridiculous. I took a better look at the person who had frightened me. He was a short guy with black hair in a baggy gray sweatshirt and black jeans, standing close to the wall, chewing on his lip. He looked sort of nervous.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized. He paused, then continued. “This is apartment complex B, right?”

“Yeah, this it,” I replied slowly.

“Uh, do you know a Gerald Way that lives here?”

I snorted quite loudly at the word Gerald. Then I noticed the guitar case he had in his hand. Of course. God, I was stupid.

“Are you here for my band tryouts?”

He blinked. “You’re Gerald?”

“Yeah, but it’s Gerard. You must’ve read it wrong.” I frowned. “You’re also a bit early. The tryouts are in five days.”

“Huh? No, it says the 13th right here,” he said as he pulled out one of the flyers I had printed out. I walked over and stood next to him to get a better look. The flyer had several small holes, and one was over the date, making the 8 look like a 3. Another was over my name, which explained the earlier confusion.

“Well, you see, if you had seen the other flyers, the ones without holes through them, you’d know that that was an 8”—I pointed to the date—“and that was an r”—I pointed to my name.

“Oh,” he said as he squinted down at the paper. “Oh!” he said again, this time with a short laugh, almost a giggle. What the fuck. This kid just giggled. His nose even scrunched up and everything. “There was another flyer stapled over this one when I saw it. Must’ve ripped when I took it off.” He looked up at me with a big smile, as if the whole thing was just hilarious and everything was great and the world was made of unicorns and puppies. I don’t know how, but his smile gave that off. Who the hell smiles like that? I stopped the urge to roll my eyes at him. I didn’t want to scare away our first member.

“Sorry about that. So, I’ll see you next Sunday?” he said as he started to walk away.

“Wait!” I called out after him. He was already here, might as well get the thing over with. Plus, I was putting off the rest of my cleaning duties. “Let’s just do it now while you’re here.”

“Uh, sure,” he said with a shrug.

I led him around the corner to the back, where the shed was. It wasn’t even a shed, really, it was just a small shelter where people kept things like old refrigerators and couches and stuff they didn’t know what to do with. People often came by and took the unwanted things, so it wasn’t too full.

“Guitar, right?” I asked, eyeing the case. I didn’t know enough to distinguish between guitar and bass, but I had a guess.

“Yeah,” he replied. He set the case down and started to unlatch it. I watched him, sitting down on an old couch.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Frank,” he replied, looking up for a second to smile. “Got an amp?”

“Right.” I got up to bring the amp from behind the couch, thankful it was still there. It was a small, dusty old thing, but it would have to do. I had seen it lying around one of the times I’d come down here, and never thought I’d use it.

“So, I’m guessing no one else is in the band yet?” Frank asked, looking around as if someone was going to appear from behind an oven.

“Nope, it’s brand new. Ready to go?” I sat back down, waiting.

He plugged the guitar in to the amp and tested it out. He looked up. “Anything in particular you wanted to hear?”

“Nope, anything you want.”

He paused for a moment, perhaps wondering at my ease with the whole thing. Poor kid. Maybe he thought he would get something out of being in this band. Maybe he thought it’d take him to stardom or something. I felt bad for a moment, before changing my mind. If Frank hadn’t realized by now that this was not a serious thing, what with the crappy flyer and the sketchy tryout, it was his own fault.

The first few notes being played caught my attention again. I watched as he started rusty, then really got into it. I recognized the song, something from The Misfits I believe. A little into the mini performance, I realized I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn’t because of what he was playing, but how. He was extremely focused, and couldn’t seem to stay still. He had his mouth slightly open, his bottom lip jutting out, his eyebrows furrowed. It was sort of mesmerizing to watch.

Frank ended the bit with a riff, letting it ring through the shed. Then he looked up at me, expectant. I realized I was leaning forward quite a bit.

I blinked, and cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that was, uh, preally good. I mean, pretty. It was pretty.” Realizing what I’d just said, I quickly continued, “Good. Pretty good.” I quickly stood up, ignoring my embarrassment. “Congratulations! You’re in. Welcome to the band. Any questions?”

“Wait, really? I’m in?” Frank watched me with wide eyes as I moved the couch back to its place, preparing my mindset for home. Had I even locked the door after myself? I checked my pockets, but no keys.

“Yeah, definitely, kiddo. You’re pretty good for your age,” I said absentmindedly. I paused, and looked up at him. “How old are you, anyway? There might be practices on school days and such.” In reality, I couldn’t care less about the practices.

He scoffed. “I’m not still in school. I’m 19.”

I stared at him. “Really? No. You can’t be over 16.”

“Do you want me to take out my birth certificate?” He drawled sarcastically as he started moving to pack up his guitar.

“Alright, I believe you. What about college, though? That still applies,” I asked, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.

“Not going. Didn’t get accepted anywhere.” He shot me a smile. “I’m all yours.”

“Huh,” I said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing, that was a ‘huh’. What?”

“Nothing. Just curious why you would choose to be in a crappy band over actually doing something with your life.”

Frank shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. He had finished packing and was now standing up. It was obvious he wasn’t going to give me a reply.

I stood up, too. “Well, see you Sunday, so we can, you know, judge the tryouts, now that you’re a part of the band. You know where to go.”

He nodded and I was just starting to walk out when I heard a loud “Oh, shit!” from behind me. I turned around to see Frank looking at his watch.

“What happened?”

He groaned. “I missed the last metro to my house. Fuck, how’d time pass like that?” he muttered.

“You live far away?” I asked.

“Yeah, with my parents. Do you think there are any buses?” He asked hopefully.

“Probably not, sorry man. I’d offer to drive you, but I don’t have a car.” I thought for a moment. “Come on up to my apartment, I’ll take a look at the bus schedules to make sure.” It felt weird to invite him into my house, but what else could I do?

He hesitated, then started to follow me into the building.

Notes

Yay for long chapters! Who doesn't love 'em? So, wow, three chapters in less than 24 hours, but I couldn't resist! Super excited for this story. Hopefully you can't tell by my writing my dreadfully nonexistent knowledge of guitars and such...
Hope you enjoyed!