Frank spends the rest of the day on the couch with his foot propped up with a few pillows, grumbling about how much his toes hurt. Although I’m not necessarily upset with him for raising his voice at me earlier, I have been spending as little time in the front of the bus as possible. Frank has never taken that tone with me before and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I need some time to process before I try and talk to him about it. I don’t really want to have our first fight over something like this.

Sitting in the middle of the walkway, I pull out my guitar and begin to strum. The random chord changes shift into Romance, which I push into Head First for Halos. As I play, I begin to sing quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone who is still on the bus. I Brought You My Bullets is my go to album when I’m trying to work through things. The chord progressions have been played so much that I don’t have to think about them and the lyrics bring me to a different place, somewhere where I am distant from everyone and everything, completely in my own head.

The bathroom door opens and closes but I hardly notice, continuing to strum, singing along to the lyrics my older brother had written. I think back to the few months we’d spent in the recording studio in Newburgh, working on putting the album together. I was student teaching at the time and could only be there on weekends. If only we had known what the future held for all of us then.

“You sound really good,” the voice behind me pulls me out of my head, causing me to miss a note.

Balancing my guitar against the side of the bunks, I spin around to look at who has interrupted me. Frank stands in the hallway. He’s balancing on one foot, hands resting on the bunks next to him for support. Frank’s hazel green eyes stay focused on me, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. I don’t like seeing him in pain, it hurts my heart.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I ask from my spot on the floor.

“No, I was up reading. I heard you playing Bullets so I figured I’d come make sure you’re doing okay. You only ever play that album when you’re dealing with stuff. Want to talk about it?”

“Nothing gets past you does it, Iero?” I question, getting up and helping Frank hobble back over to the couch. Once he’s sitting he pulls me onto his lap, arms looping around my waist. “Are you mad at me for earlier?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you, Makayla?” Frank answers back, sounding very confused.

I frown a little, pulling at a string that’s hanging off of my jeans, “I just…you seemed upset backstage when I told you that you shouldn’t have been standing on the monitor.”

“No, sweetie. I’m not upset with you at all. If anything I was pissed at myself. I can’t be pissed at your cute face,” Frank giggles, kissing my cheek.

I laugh at the guitarist, happy that we’re still okay and that he isn’t upset with me, “You ‘re being disgusting.”

“You love it.”

I shrug giving the guitarist a wink before leaning back and pressing my lips to Frank’s temple.

Two Days Later

There are two shows left, a day at Six Flags, and then a two-day van ride back to New Jersey. It’s crazy to think that a month and a half ago we’d set out on this incredible journey called Warped Tour and now it’s coming to an end. Everyone has definitely had their ups and downs, but at the end of the day I feel closer to everyone in the band.

Now, I stand across the parking lot, video camera fixed on my older brother as he, stands, hunch over some bushes, throwing up. He stumbles forward, falling into the plants before rolling off onto the asphalt of the parking lot. Frank, whose toes have begun healing nicely, helps my older brother up, patting him on the back.

“He’s alive!” Frank calls out to me as I walk over to the two.

“I filmed you puking,” I announce to Gerard as he brushes his hair out of his face, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt.

“I know,” my brother answers back, swaying a little, pointing across the parking lot, “you were like way over there.”

“Yeah, what happened Gee?” I question.

“What happened was I went right off the sidewalk into the bushes. I was like whoa -” Gerard holds his arms up and waves them around, imitating his fall “- and killed like so many plants.”

Frank laughs at the singer, patting him on the back, “Alright, lets go.”

The three of us continue to walk towards the buses, Frank and I supporting Gerard so that he doesn’t topple over again. As we walk, my brother starts to gag, veering us towards the grassy section along the sidewalk.

“He’s gonna puke again,” Frank grumbles, rubbing Gerard’s back as he vomits.

“I’m going to have to get better,” my brother coughs out as we start walking again. “I’m going to get better for you Frank, I promise.”

“I know buddy. It’s all going to be okay. You’ll get through this and I promise I’m going to do everything I can to help you out, okay?”

Gerard nods, moving over to the grassy area again and throwing himself on the ground. He fishes his cigarette packet out of his pants pocket and lights one, inhaling a few times before looking up at my camera, “It’s easier to smoke if I’m not walking.”

I nod, taking a seat on the grass next to my older brother, Frank coming to sit next to me. He rests his hand on my knee, taking the cigarette I offer him. The guitarist lights it, letting smoke filter out his nose before he hands it back to me.

“We need to talk to Mikey and Ray about getting him into a rehab facility when we get home,” I whisper to Frank.

“At the beginning of the tour I would have told you that that was the worst idea I’d ever heard, now I can’t agree with you more. He can’t keep living like this,” Frank answers with a frown, as Gerard turns his head to look at the two of us.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You and your various – ” I search for the right word – “problems.”

“I don’t -” Gerard says, pointing a finger at me as he stands back up – “have problems.”

I give my brother a thumbs up before allowing Frank to take my hand and help me to my feet. The two of us follow a few paces behind Gee only parting ways once we reach the bus parking lot, Gerard wanting to spend time with Bert before the end of the tour.

------------------
“Makayla, Makayla,” a soft male voice sounds some hours later, waking me from my spot on the couch. I glance at the glowing microwave clock; it reads three in the morning. Groaning, I rub my eyes, trying to get the figure in front of me into focus.

“What is it?”

“Gerard.”

Almost instantly I’m on high alert. I hadn’t seen my brother since earlier that morning after he’d thrown up. Gerry, our tour dad, is standing above me, a cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah Brian, she’s awake. Okay, I’ll call you back in a little.”

“What is wrong with Gerard?” I demand, pulling on the first pair of shoes I lay eyes on, my doc martins. “Gerry, what is wrong with my brother?”

“I need you to calm down. We’re just all going to go on a little walk. Gerard has some stuff he needs to work through and he can’t do it by himself,” Gerry answers, sounding very much like a politician who doesn’t actually want to tell the truth.

“Gerry, cut the shit. What’s happening that you felt the need to wake me up at three in the morning?”

The man in front of my frowns, “Your brother called Brian again. Um, he admitted to a few things that he wants to tell you himself. He is, uh, pretty under the influence right now.”

I bite my lip, trying to hold back tears. I don’t know what I’m going to walk out to, but I know I need to be strong for my brother. He needs my support right now. “Okay.”

Gerry leads me off the bus. Gerard is curled up in the grass, his entire body shaking. For a second I have to turn away, wiping away a few tears that have spilled from my eyes. Taking in a shaky breath, I approach my brother, sitting down on the ground by his head. “Hey Gee, Gerry told me that you wanted to go on a walk.”

Gerard lifts his head, glassy eyes looking out over my shoulder, “A walk is nice.”

“It is. How about I help you stand up?” I offer, getting to my feet again and offering my hand to Gerard.

My brother takes my outstretched hand in his sweaty one, clamoring to his feet with a great deal of difficulty. Once he’s stable, Gerry walks over to help me support the singer, the three of us walking slowly. For a while no one says anything, the sounds of cars driving by on the street the only sound on this eerily quiet night.

Finally, Gerard turns his head to look at me, “You know Frank loves you a lot, right Mak?”

“I know Gee, he also loves you a lot.”

Gerard smiles but it quickly fails, “I let all of you down. You and Mikey and Ray and Frank and mom and dad and Brian and –”

“You didn’t let anyone down Gerard. We’re all so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. We all love you very much and everyone just wants to make sure that you’re doing the best you can,” I cut my brother off. It tears me apart to know that he thinks he’s let all of us down.

“I know. You don’t understand though. I’ve let all of you down. I’ve let the fans down,” Gerard answers back, tears streaming down his face.

“Can you help me understand? How do you think you’ve let us down?”

My brother focuses his attention back to the ground, “I can’t.”

“I’m not going to be upset Gerard, I just want to know so I can help you,” I answer back, keeping my tone low and gentle.

Gerard turns to look at me again, tears still running down his face. He swallows hard, sniffing a little, “Cocaine.”

I stop, fingers curling into a fist. That pathetic excuse of a human being, Bert McCracken, got my brother hooked on cocaine. He’s fucking lucky he isn’t here right now and that I’m probably not going to see him again before we leave. I’d beat the shit out of him. Gerard would have never moved on to hard drugs if Bert hadn’t brought them around.

“It’s okay Gee, I’m not disappointed in you. I just want to help you get better,” I answer, rubbing my brother’s back.

“I want to get better. I need to get better. I have to Mak. If I don’t,” Gerard breaks out in more sobs, his entire body shaking.

“I know. I know. I’m going to do everything I can to help you. I promise.”

Gerard nods as Gerry leads us to a twenty-four hour McDonalds, “I’m going to go in and get him some water and something to eat. Do you mind sitting out here with him?”

“I’ve got him,” I answer back with a s forced smile, leading Gerard over to the curb where we both sit down. “Want a cigarette Gerard?”

My brother nods and I light one for him, handing it over. We smoke in silence for a little bit. Gerard lies down across the grass and I follow suit, reaching over to take my brother’s hand. “Please don’t go anywhere. I need you, you keep me strong.”

A few tears escape from the corner of my eye and I let them run down the side of my face. Before Gerard can answer, Gerry comes back, carrying a large cup and a red container of fries. We sit and watch as my brother eats, sobering up at he does. Once Gee has finished his food, the three of us stand and head back to the bus.

“I’m going to get better. I’m done drinking; I’m done with the drugs. I promise Makayla. I promise,” Gerard grasps my hands in his, holding them to his face.

“I know, how about we try and go to bed? I’m going to put you on the couch.”

Gerard nods, crawling onto the couch I usually use as a bed, allowing me to cover him up with a blanket. I sit on the floor under the table, my brother’s hand still clutched in mine. I rest my head on the side of the couch, thumb running over my brother’s knuckles. He’s going to get better. I’m going to make sure of that.

Notes