I was woken up by the snoring sounds Gerard Jr. made, and my inability to breathe properly since Mikey's body was spread all over us.

I made an attempt to move him, and totally failed. He wasn't a heavy person but he sure as hell weighed more than it looked.
I slid out from under him, and exhaled heavily as I could breathe normally again.
I looked over at the clock in the room. It was already half past eleven and I never woke up that late; it shortened the day, and I hated not having the whole day to do what I wanted to. Even if I had nothing planned, I needed to have the time to do nothing. If that made any sense.
I looked over at the two bodies in a heap on the bed, and sighed. What day was it? Friday?
I hated Fridays with an immeasurable force.
The word itself sounded gray, boring and wait, Gerard Jr. was supposed to know if he was accepted at the New York Academy of Art today, right?
Ok, maybe this Friday could be an exception to my Friday-hate thing.
I walked back to the bed and shook Gerard Jr. awake. I knew what was in the envelope, and I knew he was accepted, because hello, I had lived that day already. But I couldn't help the excitement.
He opened his eyes, groaning.

"Shit," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
He pushed Mikey off of him, making him fall on the floor with a loud thud.

"I'm fine, I'm ok, don't you guys worry," Mikey muttered, getting up.

"What time is it?" Gerard Jr. asked.

"Half past eleven," I answered.
He sat up and looked phased for a moment before getting up in a rush and running upstairs yelling 'coffee'.
Yep, just how fucked-up-minded I used to be.
Mikey shrugged and looked at me.

"I saw you yesterday with Gerard on the bed," he said.
I cocked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that's it, pretend you're oblivious to what happened. It was the weirdest thing ever. If you actually are from the future and that you're really him and shit, then why was Gerard moaning in your mouth yesterday?" he asked.

Shoot me.

"Well, uh, he had taken random things, and wasn't in his normal state and obviously emotionally frustrated, and he just kissed me?" I said. "Yeah, he kissed himself and then said I was a good kisser."

"Fuck, I thought he had slowed down with the drugs," he sighed. "Whatever man, as long as you weren't planning on fucking yourselves," he said and then cringed at the thought.
We then went upstairs, to see Gerard Jr. trying hard to turn the coffee maker on.
Mikey let out an exasperated sigh, walked to the coffee maker and pressed 'on'.

"Dumbass, I swear," he mumbled, shaking his head and leaving the kitchen.
I stood there awkwardly. This was weird, I mean, me being awkward around myself. There was pretty much a reason, I'll give you that. But, I don't know, this didn't feel right.

"Gerard-"

"Let's," he began, cutting me off. "Let's not talk about it."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," I argued.

"You were going to say something about the fact that I didn't kiss you yesterday," he stated.

"Oh, you remember then. I thought the drugs might have fucked you up too much but it seems they didn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly, looking at me sternly.
Ok, all right then, we wouldn't talk about it if he didn't want to. Not that I wanted to anyway, but I thought it needed to be sorted out somehow?
It seemed like the case was already dismissed.
He poured coffee in three mugs, and handed me one.

"I don't know how much sugar you want in it so, suit yourself," he said and started gulping down his own coffee.
I stared at him, then. This was stupid; he knew exactly how I drank my coffee since we were the same.
I kept my gaze until he finally looked at me five seconds later, realizing that he actually knew.

"Oh right, two coffee-spoon of sugar, sorry, I'm not used to this yet, ok?" he said, pouring sugar in my coffee.
I chuckled slightly and thanked him when he handed me my mug back.
We drank our coffee silently, while Mikey was doing god knows what outside the house.
I would be lying if I said the silence wasn't awkward anymore, because it totally was.

"Listen, I think we should clarify-"

"Gerard, there's a letter addressed to you!" Mikey shouted from the hall, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Gerard Jr. immediately put his coffee on the table and ran to the hall. I did the same; except that I didn't run, and that I kept my coffee in hand. Ok so I actually didn't do the same.
He was already fiddling with the paper when I got in the hall, having a hard time trying to open the envelope, due to his trembling hand.

"Here, let me," Mikey said, trying to take the envelope to open it himself.
He quickly slapped Mikey's hand away.

"No! I will open it," he said as he was finally giving up on opening it properly, and was now tearing off the left side of it.

"Gerard, you're an asswipe, you should've let me open it. Now it's all torn," Mikey mumbled.

"What matters is that the content is intact, I don't give a shit about the envelope," Gerard Jr. answered.
He got the paper out, and started unfolding it, a reluctant expression creeping its way up on his face.

"Come on, Gerard, get this over with!" Mikey whined.
Gerard Jr. sighed and totally unfolded the paper.

"Dear Gerard,
Congratulations! I am pleased to inform you of your admission to the New York Academy of Art.
Your admission to NYAA is evidence of the Admission Committee's confidence in your potential, as well as recognition of your fine scholastic achievement and unique personal qualities. We believe you have much to contribute to the artistic vitality and diversity which characterize NYAA.
NYAA is committed to give you the very best education available; and the high quality of the residential campus-life here, provides an exciting and productive learning environment.
You will find in the envelope, a copy of the necessary information (Map of the Campus, schedule, etc.)
Please complete and return the forms included in this letter with your housing deposit and advance payment. If you have applied for financial aid, you will receive confirmation, and more information within the next few weeks.
We hope to see you on our campus, and again, our warmest congratulation on your admission and best wishes from all of us at New York Academy of Art.
Sincerely. Mr. Kratz."
Gerard Jr. had read the letter out loud, and was now grinning from ear to ear.

"I was sure you were gonna make it, asshole," Mikey exclaimed, hugging Gerard Jr. as if it were the last time they would ever see each other.

"Come fucking hug with us, old man," Mikey mumbled to me.
I accepted gladly as I practically enveloped them in my arms. I remembered the excitement I had felt the day I had opened this letter. I was re-living every moment of my past. Every emotion that Gerard Jr. felt, I felt it too, and right about fucking now, I was the happiest I'd been in a long, long time.

"We need to celebrate that," I suddenly said. "We should, like, go out or something, I'll pay for everything."

"Yeah, we could go to that bar downtown, you know, the one with gigs almost every night? The owner allows us in and let us drink since that time we'd found his lost dog," Mikey said.
Gerard Jr. nodded enthusiastically.

"I've got to tell mom about NYAA, though," he said and left the hall, getting his phone out of his pocket.

That's when I realized we had slept in our clothes. That's when I realized I really stank. That's also when I realized I didn't have any other clothes than the ones on me.

"I think you could use a shower," Mikey said as if reading in my thoughts. "You smell like an old zombie. Not that I've actually ever smelt one, but I guess it would smell like you." He then paused. "We'll go downtown to buy you some clothes, too. There's no way you can go out dressed like this tonight."

"Hey, these are like, my favorite clothes. I look sexy in them," I said, wiggling my brows.
He just stared at me blankly for at least fifteen awkward seconds before brushing past me, patting my shoulder.

"Just get in the shower, ok?" he said.
And just like that, I was in the bathroom undressing myself. I took off my black skinny jeans and started unbuttoning my shirt, slowly revealing that necklace I had forgotten I had.

Never take the necklace off of you. A voice echoed in my head. I nodded dumbly as if the person whom the voice belonged to was in the room.

I took my shirt and boxers off and stepped into the shower, recalling all the things I'd done in here.
There was the few times I had cut under the steamy hot water, or this time where I went in the shower with my cigarette and got pissed at the water for ruining my smoke, and the oh-so-many times I had been jerking off silently before going to school. It happened almost every morning –jerking off, not cutting or smoking under the shower—like some luck rituals, except I never had any luck anyway.
I jumped out of the shower as the cool water hit my skin. I was no longer used to having to wait for it to heat up since where I lived, in Flushing, I didn't have to wait.
Once it was hot enough, I stepped in again and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth.
I didn't realize how long I had stayed motionless under the steamy hot water before I heard bangings on the bathroom door.

"Man, are you showering or playing the young mermaid, get out of here," Mikey shouted.

I quickly washed myself and got out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Mikey was leaning against the wall in front of the bathroom, glaring at me.

"Uh," I said.

"Gerard put some clothes on his bed for you. I doubt they'll fit you but you'll have to deal with it until we get you new ones," he said.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "Sorry for, like, monopolizing the bathroom," I added.

"There better still be hot water for me, dude." He walked passed me to the bathroom.

Shaking my head, I walked to the basement and picked up the clothes on the bed and looked around to make sure nobody was in the room.
I dropped the towel, put boxers on, and then took a closer look at the clothes. Iron Maiden shirt, a pair of baggy jeans, and probably the only pair of clean socks in this house. I put on the clothes, slightly struggling to zip up the jeans and walked out of the bedroom.
Mikey and Gerard Jr. were already waiting for me in the hall, all dressed and clean. Practically clean. Maybe Mikey was the only clean one, actually.

"You took your time," Mikey sighed, and it really didn't feel like I had taken that much time.

We walked out of the house and down the streets in a complete silence.
When we finally reached the commercial center, Mikey dragged me and Gerard Jr. to a band merchandise store and I kind of hesitated stepping in. But then I spotted several Misfits merchandize and why the fuck would I not get inside this shop? I might be thirty, but these types of clothes never got old.

"Alright," Mikey said. "There you go. Hope you took your wallet."
Then he and Gerard Jr. went to the 'band accessories' shelf while I just randomly picked simple –not so simple—black jeans. Black skinny jeans. Black skinny jeans with chains on them. Black skinny jeans with chains on them and too many skulls. Yeah.
Then I saw that magnificent Nirvana shirt and that perfect Misfits hoodie and jesus lord fuck, I could have bought the whole store. Which I basically almost did. But Mikey judged necessary to step in and take half of the clothes I had picked away from me to put them back on their shelves.

"Mikey, I have enough money! Fuck, have you seen that fucking Iron Maiden jacket? And the shoes, Mikey give them back," I surprisingly whined.
But then I realized I was older, and could actually decide what I could buy and what I couldn't. Even though I wasn't to be trusted in these kinds of stores.

I still ended up with less than I had in the beginning because, Mikey's stubborness.
I kept the shoes, the three skinny jeans, the Iron Maiden jacket, the Misfits hoodie, and the Nirvana and Rancid shirts. Also, there actually were blink-182 boxers and the three of us bought the batch of two boxers.

"Ok," Mikey said as we got out of the store. "It's really not like you spent $340 in there."

"Hey, there's not a lot of these stores where I live, and it's become so, so much more expensive. You'll notice that in ten years, kiddo," I said, ruffling his hair.

"Ok, whatever. It's like, five PM right now, right? We've got two hours before the gig at that bar starts." Mikey said.

"Yeah, do we go there a little before or what?" Gerard Jr. asked, fighting to get his lighter out.

"I guess? I mean, we could get there as soon as he changed from his awful clothes," Mikey answered, pointing at me.
I rolled my eyes.

***

"Alright slow down with the beer, asswipe, we just arrived," Mikey told Gerard Jr. as he gulped down his second beer like there was no tomorrow.

There was the sound of a guitar being tuned and apparently the band was playing now. Not an hour later.
Mikey ran to the stage and when Gerard Jr. and I turned to face the stage, we met a familiar face. Behind his guitar and mic. And hair. Frank.

"Hey isn't that-"

"Yeah, it's Frank, I didn't know he was playing tonight," Gerard Jr. cut me off.

"Ok then, why don't you go front row and say hi?" I asked.

"I'll meet him at the bar, I guess?"
And the band started playing, keeping me from hearing what other useless things Gerard Jr. must have said about wanting another drink but having no money.
They started playing their first song, without introducing the band or the song itself, just letting the loud and uncoordinated notes blasting in the crowd's ears.
They weren't actually bad. They just lacked stage experience, I presume, but they did not lack talent.
When Frank actually started singing though, to say I was surprised was an understatement. I couldn't really tell if I liked the weird uniqueness of his voice or not. All I knew was that I wasn't going to block the sound from bewitching my ears anytime soon so I got a little further in the crowd.

A few other songs were played, Frank head-banging way too much to actually sing every lyric. He was like those bobble-head toys with that mechanism at the back that you had to turn several times before the toy bounced everywhere. Except that Frank's bouncing lasted longer.
Sweat drops were dripping from his forehead, rolling from his temple down to the nape of his neck to end up in his drenched shirt. This shirt that he should totally take off. Now.

He did. By the end of the set, he took off his shirt, revealing pale naked skin. Naked skin. I found myself expecting more tattoos than the one on his arm. I got a weird feeling, then, somewhere that I couldn't pinpoint. Just a vibe throughout my whole body, or just overflowing my brain. Then a flash. Some lost memories racing in front of my eyes. Frank was in them. I couldn't see anything clearly though, but could still guess the forms, and then nothing anymore. Just the remnants of a vague image of a tattooed chest.
The band got off the stage and I tried to kind of spy where Frank was going. I put my bag next to Gerard Jr. and pushed through the crowd to follow him but losing him when Mikey bumped into me.

"Fuck man, don't you watch where you're- oh," Mikey said. "Enjoyed the show, oldie?"

"Yes, Mikey, I did," I sighed, my eyes still wandering in the room in hope to catch a glimpse of Frank. "Could've used a chair, I suppose, my legs aren't as strong as they used to be. Because thirty is so old, you know? But hey, isn't it bed time already, Mikes? Better go home before mom's curfew," I added, looking down at him.

He stared at me blankly, "Well I know somebody who's got smokes and it's not you so you'd better lick my ass if you want one," he said, looking above my shoulder.

"I could still-"

"-Hey, you didn't leave Gerard alone at the bar with your bag in which your wallet is, right?" he cut me off.
Shit, shit shit shit shit, shit.

"Shit," I said bringing a hand to my hair. "He can't have gotten too much drinks yet, it's only been like, three minutes so it's cool. We just need to take my wallet away before he actually gets enough time to get shitfaced."

"Yeah, dude, it's weird because it seems like I know him better than you do when it should actually be the other way around. He must've had like, at least five shots of Tequila already, come on."
I rolled my eyes and we, again, pushed our way through the crowd to the bar, Mikey and I's arrival synchronized with Frank's. And it looked like we were just in time to see Gerard Jr.'s tongue shoved down a random girl's throat, their hips grinding wildly into each other's.
Frank's expression was blank, although I could catch a glint of pain in his eyes.
Then, the next thing that happened was Frank ordering a drink, gulping it down and walking towards me, shirtless, shirtless. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me down before attaching his lips to mine. The brain between my legs obviously decided that kissing back was a cool thing to do, and that grabbing Frank's waist was even funnier. Frank pushed his tongue past my lips and pressed our bodies together and that's exactly when my supposedly clever brain said 'stop'.
This 'stop' message, instead of creating a war between my two brains, forced me to pull back and let go of Frank and even ever so slightly push him away.

I stared at Frank who went to order a few drinks for his band—of which I still didn't know the name of.
My mouth opened and closed and re-opened and re-closed and I seriously couldn't get a fucking word out. I ended up throwing a sheepish look at Gerard Jr. while Frank walked off to his band mates.
Gerard Jr. seriously looked destabilized and a pang of guilt cut through me; I shouldn't have kissed back and pushing Frank away should have been my first fucking reaction.
And Mikey was just there, though, his mouth hanging open, pointing towards me with his scrawny finger.

"What," I snapped. I really didn't need anybody giving me a lecture right now.

"Did that really just happen," he more stated than asked before turning and- "Where's Gerard?" he asked. "Did you get your wallet back?"

"I didn't really get the time between the moment I arrived and the moment when Frank threw himself on me," I stated.
I turned my head and Gerard Jr. was actually at the end of the bar, gulping down his—one, two, three, four, five—sixth shot, I could tell by the empty glasses. I didn't know how he, therefore I, managed to take so many shots in such short lapse of time.
I slowly walked to where he was and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, let's go home," I said, as he stood up and pushed me away.

"You do not fucking touch me," he said somewhat threateningly but mostly, drunk-out-of-his-face-ly.
He then walked out of the bar and I followed him, cursing under my breath.
By the time I got outside, he had already lit up a spliff. I sighed to myself and stepped closer.

"Gerard, listen. Don't you try to interrupt me before I'm done," I started. "What happened back there should have never happened. And like, I don't mean to put it all on Frank, but the guy jumped on me and kissed me, not the other way 'round, and-"

"You did nothing to keep him from doing so, though," he muttered, smoke flowing out of his mouth, his eyes fixated on the ground.

"Right, it's not like you were practically eating that girl's face when we arrived at the bar," I said, making him look up. There was some distress in his eyes; he sure as hell didn't want Frank to have seen it.
Rage quickly overflowed his look, though.

"Don't even start with that," he almost shouted, pointing a lazy finger at me. "Don't even try to turn the situation over and put whatever blame on me, fucker."

"Look, I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean to hurt you. Frank just took me by surprise," and he was fucking shirtless, I didn't add. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," he mumbled, throwing his finished spliff on the ground and starting heading home, brushing past me just as Mikey got out of the bar.

"Is everything back to peace or is he bitchy-walking down the streets just because?" Mikey asked me.

Notes

I'm incredibly sorry for the wait!
You are allowed to kick me.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even just a little ♥