Frank and Gerard were begrudgingly roused at 9:30 by Mikey, stating that Ray had called and said that he would be at the brothers' house in 20 minutes.

Frank delivered on his promise of helping Gerard in shower. He gave Gerard more lovebites on his neck and jaw, darkening the ones that already existed. Frank was determined on letting Alex Saavedra, relationship wrecker extradinaire, know that Gerard was his. Gerard had tried to mark Frank up as well, but the light violets and angry reds stood out better against the pale skin of Gerard's neck.

In little to no time, the band was in front of a house on the opposite side of town. The single-storied brick house seemed small, with lift blue shutters and a dark blue door, void of a spyhole. There were beds of wilting flowers below the windows— obviously someone had forgotten about them or purposefully neglected them.

"This is Eyeball Records?" Gerard asked skeptically. Frank's hand snakes out of his jeans pocket and he hooked his little finger with Gerard's; just how Amara from the first AA meeting had observed the two holding hands.

"Sure is," Ray nodded. "Studio; management; head offices; it's all here."

"But this place is a piece of shit," Mikey protested.

"Oh, sweet, naive Michael," Ray said, throwing his arm around Mikey's shoulders and tried to attempt an upper-class accent. However, coming from the slums of New Jersey, 'upper-class' for Ray was just Trenton. "Inside of the so-called piece of shit is where magical happenings occur."

"Dude, you're overselling it," Matt interjected. "It is a piece of shit, but it's a quality piece of shit. Just, c'mon. It's cold as fuck out here."

Before the five could even finish walking to the front door, it was thrown open to reveal a man slightly taller than Ray, with dark black hair and brown eyes. His tan skin reflected some kind of Italian heritage; he seemed devoid of piercings or tattoos. "Toro!" The man cried and brought his hand down onto Ray's shoulder, gripping it tightly. His voice— slightly deep and thick with a New Jersey accent— gave him away as Alex Saavedra, the founder of Eyeball Records.

"Hey, Al," Ray said. "Okay, so you already know Matt and Frank. That leaves Gerard, the one with the black hair, and Mikey, the one with glasses."

"You talk about us like we aren't right behind you," Mikey observed, narrowing his eyes jokingly at Ray.

"What'd you play, lil' dude?" Alex asked. Mikey was a substantial amount shorter than Alex; then again, he wasn't that tall to begin with. Mikey often likened himself to a gnome. At least he was taller than his brother.

"Bass," Mikey answered and absently ran his fingers over the palm of his hand, letting his callouses rub against the soft skin.

"And Gerard," Alex said, turning to him. Gerard had chosen his usual outfit of black jeans that, without a belt, sagged slightly, a dark pullover hoodie, and dirty Converse. His ebony hair was messed up from when he hadn't brushed after letting it air-dry, and he had remnants of black eyeliner still on his waterline. Alex had to admit that he could understand why Frank chose Gerard: the fucker was good looking. The part that made Alex slightly uncomfortable were the purple and red marks littering Gerard's pale neck, and how his pinkie was intertwined with Frank's. Alex was certain that, if Gerard took off his top, hundreds more of the red and purple marks would appear.

"You're the motherfucker who Toro's been losing his shit about," Alex stated. "Said you sounded like Billy Corgan of the Pumpkins. I can roll with that."

Gerard couldn't help himself; he blushed. "Thanks," he murmured, shyly looking down at his and Frank's feet.

"Baby, don't do that," Frank said quietly, pushing Gerard's head back up with the tips of his fingers. "You don't have to be so shy; Alex is nice."

Geradd gave Frank a pained smile, as if saying shut the fuck up, I can handle this. "Thanks, Frankie," he said softly.

"Sorry, but my balls are freezing off," Matt said.

"Oh, yeah," Alex said and moved out of the doorway. "Sorry 'bout that. Wasn't thinking."

The five shuffled in, immediately thankful for the heating. Frank never let go of Gerard, and Gerard was thankful; he wasn't sure if he could continue without Frank.

Alex showed them to the stairs leading to the basement, the stairwell lit with various strings of white Christmas lights. "We can talk downstairs," Alex said and started down, the wooden stairs creaking underneath his weight.

Ray was right; the place, while it looked less than attractive on the outside, made up for it in the basement, which was filled to the brim with professional-level recording equipment. The sound board was set up in front of a glass window, which looked into a soundproofed room that held numerous microphones and a sophisticated drum set.

However, Matt was also right; other than the high-end equipment, the rest of the oversized basement was lacking, with stained carpet covering the floor and wood paneling around the walls. Several shelves stood on the control panel side of the glass, each shelf bursting with either books of CD cases— some looked used, while others awaited someone to add their music.

"Alright, so, let's talk," Alex said, taking a seat at the controls. The others found places to sit around the room, the Ways sitting on a ratty couch, Ray sinking into a chair opposite Alex, Matt taking his place on another chair set up close to the couch and, after a second of hesitation, Frank lowering himself onto Gerard's knee. Gerard's hands instantly went to grip Frank's waist, keeping him steady.

I see what they're doing, Alex thought with disdain. Little shits. "So," he said aloud. "How many songs do you have written?"

"Six," Ray answered. "Skylines And Turnstiles, Vampires Will Never Hurt You, Drowning Lessons, Our Lady of Sorrows, Early Sunsets Over Monroeville, and Demolition Lovers. We have a few others in the works, but they're nowhere near finished."

"And you've only been at this for four months?" Alex asked and whistled. "Good God, that's a lot of work."

"You're telling me," Ray nodded. "We have the whole of Skylines, Vampires, and Drowning, but we need to get the drums for the rest, and Gerard has to try all of the vocals to see if they work."

"That hasn't been done yet?" Alex asked, turning to Gerard.

"No, I've been busy lately," Gerard said, then, seeing the look that flashed over Alex's face, added: "I've been focusing on getting sober, and that's taken up a lot of my time."

"Oh," Alex said. "Well, that's first priority. Everything can wait until that's sorted out."

"What? Hell no, I'm not waiting," Gerard said, pulling a laugh from his brother and Matt. "I've been doing good since November, going to weekly meeting for AA and such. I can afford to turn my focus to music for a little while."

He has to go to AA, Alex noted, filing that under things he could use later on, if he needed to. "Have you had any experience with recording before?" Alex asked.

"I haven't had much experience with singing in general," Gerard admitted but, before he could say anything else, Frank turned abruptly to face him.

"Get outta here," Frank breathed. "You've never sang before?"

"I was Peter Pan in the fourth grade," Gerard said, thinking. "And my grandmother always loved it when I sang. But never any, like, professional training or anything."

"But you sound glorious," Frank protested. "How is this possible?"

Gerard shrugged. "Not sure," he answered.

"So, basically," Alex started, pulling the two men away from their conversation,"The process is simple: you go in there and sing into the microphone God knows how many times until we get the take we want, then we make you do it hundreds of more times the way we want it. I've found that, after the numerous repetitions, the singer develops a voice that can bring you to your damn knees."

"Oh, okay," Gerard said quietly, not particularly thinking about anything.

"Simple enough," Ray said. "So, how do we make this official?"

"Right, official," Alex said and wheeled himself in his chair over to one of the bookshelves, pulling out a thick black binder. He leafed through it until he found what he was looking for and passed it to Ray, giving him a pen as well. "Signature on the dotted line," Alex instructed. "All five of you."

The paper was passed from man to man, each taking a second to skim over the legal document before writing their name on the line. When it finally made its way to Gerard, he swallowed hard and took a second to become hyper aware of the situation.

He was about to sign to legitimate record company. With the completion of his signature, My Chemical Romanxe would be signed to Eyeball Records. Not taking anymore time, he signed quickly, before he could decide otherwise.

"Awesome," Alex said. "So, when do you think you'll be ready to record?"

"Sometime in the next few months," Mikey said. "Maybe March or April."

"Great," Alex said and took the paper from Gerard's hand, taking the pen as well, and scribbling on the back March-April recording session.

"Simple as that. Welcome to Eyeball Records, My Chemical Romance."

---

---

"Are you awake?" Frank whispered at 1:37 the next morning, knowing that the man holding him was, in fact, awake.

"Yeah," Gerard said. "Are you okay?"

"I've been thinking," Frank started, lacing his fingers with Geeard's. "What if we got our own place?"

"What?"

"I mean, like, our own apartment or something," Frank said. "Last night, when Mikey commented on how he couldn't deal with us being next to him, it got me thinking. I could pull out of the student housing program, and my monthly fee could potentially pay for the first month's rent."

"I don't know, Frankie," Gerard said. "It's a big step. We've only been dating for five months. When do people usually move in together?"

"Who knows?" Frank said, not expecting an answer. "It just... Would be nice, I guess."

"Yeah, it would be nice," Gerard said. "Do I have to answer now? Or can I sleep on it?"

"I wasn't expecting you to answer immediately," Frank said. "Just wanted to get the thought out there."

"Oh, okay," Gerard muttered. "We should try to go to sleep."

"Keyword there is try," Frank giggled.

"You laugh like a stoner, you know?" Gerard asked. "Like, it sounds like a high pitched hyena or something. It's adorable."

"Oh, thanks, baby," Frank said and kissed Gerard's knuckles softly. "I'll try to sleep. Wake me up if you need anything."

"Alright," Gerard whispered, rubbing Frank's bare back, trying to help him fall asleep. However, Alex kept slipping into his stream of thought.

It was obvious that Alex didn't like Gerard. He seemed a bit arrogant, as if he knew the exact outcome of his actions all the time. To be honest, it would get old very quickly. It's just because of your history, Gerard reminded himself. Now go to sleep, for God's sake.

And he did just that.

Notes

So, I'm sure the real Alex isn't an asshole, but he's kinda gotta be. Sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Be the color of lightening, everyone.

xoøli