No Shows

They met in the spring when the air was thick with humidity and Frank smelled like menthol cigarettes and bad decisions; and his voice sounded like static against against Gerard’s ears. They talked about music as Frank wiped the sweat from his forehead with his own shirt, revealing two sparrows in his stomach, and Gerard tried not to stare,but found his eyes tugging towards them like they’re attached to an invisible string. His body is a canvas. His pale skin was stitched with colorful art that curved and rippled as he moved his hands wildly with every word. He made fun of Gerard’s taste in all forms of media, and laughed when Gerard’s eye twitched ever so slightly. They exchanged numbers, and Gerard promised his first demo.

It’s nice to meet you Gerard Way,” he said, and his voice sounded like caramel.

In the Summer, they’re sitting on Gerard’s front porch, under a fiery moon- and Frank strummed a guitar, carefully choosing each string to gently caress and his fingertips were calloused over and scarred from pressing too hard. And Gerard wants to know how his voice will sounds grinding against Frank’s guitar. But he pinches his lips tightly because he doesn’t have something toxic and bitter to loosen them. The heat was beating against their black clothing and he feels the tingle of the mosquitoes crawling around the openings of this ripped jeans. And before Gerard can protest Frank’s choice of location, he’s met with the raspy twang of the song they were working on. Frank giving it life. Hazel eyes drifted shut and Gerard’s overcome by the sight of him--content. Completely sure. And Gerard unhinged his jaw and sings along side Franks. Their voices met for the first time, and it’s rough, and raw, and worked. And soon it wasn’t two voices meeting, they were melding into one.solid.soul. And Frank smiled:

You’re amazing, Gerard.” And his voice was like roses.

And in the fall, Gerard found out Frank tasted like Jack Daniels when their lips met violently against the wall of a hotel. And he’s immediately intoxicated and addicted and wanted nothing more than to tear off every article of clothing separating their bodies. He wanted to be covered in Frank and Frank’s tattoos. But the room smells like vomit and poor life choices and the wind is howling through the broken window. And Frank is crying and Gerard is shaking. Frank dug his broken fingertips into Gerard’s jacket and begged him to stop trying to destroy himself
and this band
and him.
Because every powder white pill that found itself down Gerard’s throat eats away at a part of him and he’s tired of being broken. And Gerard is wrecked with fear because he didn’t know how to feel anything but vacant and they collapse on to the floor with together, wrapped in each other. Gerard made a promise he couldn’t keep, and Frank exhaled into his neck:

I love you, Gerard.”

But winter slams like an avalanche
And it’s been twelve years since they met-
And it’s eleven since their voices danced-
And seven since they came skin to skin-
He clutches the phone, and racks his brain to find the words.
He says he can’t do the band anymore, but what he means is he can’t disappoint Frank anymore. Because everytime he does, his body feels like it’s about to cave and crumble, and he’s tired of feeling anything at all.
The silence is defending;
And Gerard doesn’t know what Frank smells like anymore, but he knows the cold, hazy, sharp, breath from across the country goes right through him.

I fucking hate you, Gerard Way.”

And his voice numbs him quicker than any pill ever could.

Notes

I haven't written a frerard in foreeverrr.