Life on the Murder Scene

Ever since we got on the road Gerard’s drinking has gotten progressively worse. Most days he’s usually drunk before eleven. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Touring puts a lot of stress on him. He worries he’s not going to give the fans what they want, that he’s going to screw things up for everyone. He drinks to cope with that. I just wish there was something I could do to convince him that the fans are here for the music, if he goes out and puts his heart and soul into the performance they’re gonna love him. He just doesn’t see it that way. He’s convinced he can’t be the Gerard he is on stage without the alcohol.

Standing at the end of our bus smoking a cigarette I videotape the boys coming back from their fifth show so far. Warped Tour is insane. You’re in a different city every day. Most times you wake up and you don’t even know where you are. The wake up calls are crazy earlier and most nights we don’t roll out until around one.

“Where’s Gee?” I question Frank who is the last one to walk through the row of buses towards me.

“He’s coming,” Frank answers with a grin.

Just then my older brother comes around the corner. He stumble running his head into the side of another bus. Laughing hysterically he continues towards me, almost falling over. “You okay Gerard?”

He glances at me, batting away the hand I offer him. He's laughing hysterically, “I’m fucking fine.”

Gerard walks past the end of our bus. He’s walking in a zigzag pattern hands held out, touching the other bus’s sides to keep himself steady. He’s got his head tilted back a little and I can hear him breathing heavy even when he is a few buses down.

“Dude where are you going?” Mikey calls after him. He leans against the side of our bus, watching our older brother through the tiny screen on my camera.

Upon hearing our brother’s voice, Gerard whips around, banging his head on yet another bus. For a few seconds it looks like he might eat shit. Gerard manages to steady himself. He’s wearing a big goofy grin, his eyes glazed over. He’s not even truly looking at us. “To the bus little brother. Aren’t you coming?”

“Naw man, you went too far – ” Mikey taps on the end of the My Chemical Romance tour bus – “this one is ours.”

A look of pure confusion plays over Gerard’s face. He looks back over his shoulder to whatever bus he thought he was going to get on. Sighing he stumbles back towards my brother and me. Together we guide him down the side of the bus and help him up the stairs. Gerard face plants into the couch, letting out a groan.

“Will one of you hand me a beer?

“Maybe you should drink some water,” I offer trying not to let my worry show too much. Gerard’s always had an interesting relationship with alcohol but he can usually hold himself together. I’m not sure that’s gonna happen this time.

“Here ya go,” Frank says handing my brother a silver can before sitting down in the middle of the aisle that runs from the front of the bus to the back. I frown at the dark haired guitarist but he just shrugs. Frank’s mentality is that Gerard will eventually just get tired of getting drunk and stop. According to Frank it’s easier to just give him what he wants instead of trying to reason with him. I don’t agree with him. I don't think Frank understands the problem quite like I do. He might be one of Gerard's best friends but I've lived with him. I know just how bad my brother can get.

Mikey sighs, grabbing his coffee cup before heading back down the bus stairs. Scowling at Frank I flip my camera off before putting it down on the table and following my older brother off the bus. Seeing Gerard this way is really eating him up inside. Sitting down on the asphalt next to Mikey I rest my head on his shoulder. He takes a sip of coffee, making a weird face as he realizes its cold. I can’t help but laugh a little.

“How are you doing Mikey?”

“I’m holding it together. I just wish everyone else would figure out how to do that same,” he responds glancing over at the bus.

“I know.”

“I’m worried about him Makayla. He’s never been this bad before. Is he even taking his pills anymore?”

I shrug. I’ve been leaving Gerard’s anti-depressants out on the table for him every morning since we left on tour. They always disappear but I don’t know if he actually takes them or just flushes them down the toilet.

“Do you think coming on tour was a bad idea? Maybe we aren’t ready for something this big yet.”

“I don’t think that’s it Mikey. At home Gerard is structured. You guys get up and write and go to the studio and then come home. He really isn’t around other people. Here Gerard gets to hang out with a whole bunch of other dudes who just get trashed all the time. Gerard isn’t always the best with peer pressure. I don’t think it’s that he wasn’t ready for a tour like this, I just don’t think he was ready for the people on tours like this.”

Mikey sits quietly for a few minutes letting my words wash over him. This is how he is. My older brother won’t say anything without thoroughly thinking about what was said and deciding just how he wants to word his response. I learned from a very young age to cherish everything Mikey said; no matter what it always has some kind of meaning behind it.

“He wasn’t ready for Bert.”

I sigh. Bert McCracken is the lead singer for The Used. Fantastic band. Fantastic guys. Terrible influences. Gerard met Bert on our second day of tour. My brother couldn’t get his cigarette lit and Bert decided to help him. Honestly I’m surprised that they’ve not met before. Our manager is their manager. Anyway, ever since that day Bert and Gerard disappear for hours and my older brother usually comes back completely shit faced. Neither Mikey nor I are the biggest fans of Bert; at least not as Gerard's friend.

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us were quite ready for Bert,” I respond with a slight laugh before digging in my pocket and pulling out my cigarette pack. Mikey shoots away from me a little as I light one.

“Gerard threw up!” Frank’s voice reaches my ears before I see him. He’s changed into light wash jeans with big rips in the knees and a plain tan shirt. He’s got a cigarette tucked behind his left ear. A beer is held in his hand.

Sighing I go to get up but Mikey stops me, his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll deal with it this time. You got it the last time.”

Leaning my head back against the bus I offer Frank my lighter. He sits next to me, knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes are glassy and I know he is probably only a few beers away from being drunk. The guitarist hands over his can and I take a few sips, letting a temporary warmth wash through my body. It isn’t that I disapprove of drinking or having a good time I just feel like it needs to be done in moderation. The guys aren’t really the best with that.

“I’m sorry that I enable him,” Frank mumbles as he rests his head on his knees. I set his beer can on the ground. He eyes it but leaves it untouched.

“You’re his best friend Frank. You just want him to be happy and in Gerard’s mind he’s only happy when he’s drunk.”

“I just hate it when you look at me like that,” he responds glancing over at me. I do my best to smile back at him. I know Frank doesn’t have any ill intentions.

I met Frank almost six years ago. I went to every single Pencey Prep show. They were my favorite band at the time. I’d come from a rough day at work and go listen to Frank and his band and just be able to get away for a little. After about the tenth show Frank decided to talk to me. We became fast friends. He knew my brothers through the demo CDs that they had put out. I would spend all of my free time listening to Frank record new music. When Gerard offered Frank a spot in My Chemical Romance I was thrilled. He’s a good dude and a wonderful guitarist.

“I don’t look at you like anything,” I respond picking up his beer and taking a few more sips.

Frank grins, finally taking his cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it, “Maybe that’s the problem.”

Rolling my eyes I finish off the beer and crush the can under my hand before tossing it at Frank. He scrunches up his nose when it hits is arm, acting like it actually hurt. “You’re a dick Makayla.”

I let out a laugh. Frank is ridiculous. “Stop being such a pansy.”

“I’m gonna show you a pansy,” he grumbles before leaning over, his fingers assaulting my side.

Being extremely ticklish I let out a shriek beginning to laugh uncontrollably. I try and fight Frank off, reaching under his arms and going for his armpits, the only place Frank is ticklish. He lets out a surprised gasp before breaking into his own fit of giggles.

“Stop, stop!” he says in between laughter.

“You first,” I answer back trying to wiggle away from him. It doesn’t work. Frank is quite a bit stronger than I am.

“Never!”

I dig my fingers back into his armpits. He squeals again.

“Okay! Okay!” he finally says rolling away from me before letting out a cough as he begins to regain his breath.

Crawling over to him I take my tongue and run it over the side of his face, his skin salty. “That’s for the other morning.” With that I disappear back onto the bus.

Notes

I hope that you guys enjoy reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. :)