*Frank POV*
There aint nothin’ quite like that rush. The sweat I’m inevitably drenched in by the end of the
show. The crowd that kicks and pushes. The music. God the music. Nothing could get my blood rushing faster than the sound of the distorted and loud noise resonating against the grimy walls of whatever bar or basement we were in that night.

Usually, I couldn’t care less where I was; here or fuckin’ Timbuctoo (which is a real place in my beloved state, and is just as forsaken as it sounds). But tonight, tonight feels different. Maybe it’s because we’re playing in our own hometown. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had time to jack off in days, thanks to the cramped and smelly bus we had been residing in for the past couple of weeks. I chuckle slightly to myself, just loud enough for the guys to send me some inquisitive looks. Instead of answering, I finish my beer that tastes (unsurprisingly) like piss, and light up a cigarette. As I pull it away from my mouth and exhale a cloud of willowy smoke, I notice my grip slipping on the stick. My hands are shaking. Hm, weird. Though I suppose there could be a few explanations:

1. I’m nervous to play in front of the kids I went to high school with.
Nah, fuck that. I basically escaped all notice for the 2 years I’ve lived here. I have no one to impress, or disappoint.
2. The mixture of beer and cigarettes are slowly rotting my nervous system.
Okay, maybe, but is that good enough of a reason to quit? Not a chance in hell.
3. I really need to get laid.
No arguing with that one.
Hopefully the adrenaline of playing our final show of the tour will offer me some relief. I could head down to the local record store I hadn’t been to in years, browse for a couple of classics. Maybe grab some coffee on the way home and-
Fuck Frank, this is why they call you Pansy behind your back.
I replace the dreamy expression on my face with one I imagine Mikes would be proud of. He’d be the only face in the crowd I recognized tonight, hopefully.
Squaring up, I steady my grip on the stick between my fingers and make my way after the guys. They’re obviously getting impatient, as their warm-ups begin to sound more like screeches. Alright, alright. I’m comin’ ya bastards.
Stepping on stage, I don’t even bother to see how many kids are in front of me. The feeling I’d die for rushes over me, every nerve tensing in anticipation. I take one final drag of the burning cigarette and toss it to the floor. Welp, here goes nothin’. With a final glance towards my bandmates, I step towards the mic and let loose.

I have this reoccurring dream, you make it hard for me to breathe
I gave you everything I could, I gave up everything I own
At this point the crowd is beginning to get into it, bouncing around like the floor won’t stay still. From what I can see beyond the blinding lights, they’re mostly a bunch of kids, but they’re eating this up as much as I am. Wanting to be closer, I unwind the mic cord and jump off of the low stage, directly into the crowd. I’m just barely able to get my bearings before dozens of hands reach out to touch me, and pull me this way or that. I look down at the poor kid in front of me whose body is practically plastered against mine. Well, maybe poor isn’t the right word, considering how hard this kid is staring at my lips. But I don’t blame him, his are pretty enticing too. He realizes he’s staring and his cheeks flame adorably to match the color of his hair. I should probably look away too, but the look of fascination and excitement in his doe-like eyes peaks my interest.
My decision made, I sing the last line before the chorus, and let my instincts run the show. Mic wrapped around my arm, I grab the kid’s face roughly and smash my lips onto his. They’re warm and plump and I almost don’t want to let go, but the vibe of the room is just too much and I’m forced back by the pull of the crowd. His doe-eyes are now wider than before. It’s adorable and I begin to think of other ways I could make him blush, gasp, mo-
Fuck, Frank, focus.
We’re not finished, pretty boy. I seal the promise with a wink, and allow myself to be pulled back towards the stage.
The rest of the set goes smoothly, and I’m almost able to forget that this is our last show. I can’t believe the endless hours spent on creating lyric after lyric, riff after riff, ends here. By the time we finish up and thank the crowd I HAVE to have a cigarette, a drink; anything to help me forget that this is over. Grabbing another beer (less piss-like this time around), I head outside on shaky knees to light up the habit I started when I was 14.
Stepping through the iron back door, I immediately begin to curse my need for nicotine. Not only is it cold enough to freeze my balls off, but the dimly lit, trash filled alley is the perfect scene for shitty horror movie. You know, the ones where the unsuspecting guy goes out to have a cigarette, and out of the corner of his eye sees something move. It’s probably just a raccoon or something so he goes back to smoking, when he starts to hear the echo of footsteps. He doesn’t know where they’re coming from but they get closer and closer until-
The door behind me creaks loudly.

“Jesus fuck!” I yelp, practically jumping out of my skin.
“O…Oh sorry! I didn’t know anyone else would be out here. I-I’ll just go-“, says a nasally voice.
“Nah dude it’s cool.” I breathe before turning to look at the almost murderer. Lucky me. It’s the guy whose body I had become very familiar with during the show. A slow smirk slides its way across my face.
The guy fumbles, obviously recognizing me too and not knowing what to say next.
“N-nice set tonight. Probably the best that’s come through here in a long time. Not that I would know, I don’t usually go out to things like these and I wouldn’t be here if my brother hadn’t forced me. Not that I had to be forced to see you guys but-“ he stops with a huff, realizing he’s digging himself a deeper hole.
“Don’t sweat it. We’re minor league and know it.” I assure him on an exhale of smoke.
“No! You guys were like a mix of like Jawbreaker and Bauhaus. You’re hard and soft and buzzy and it’s really rad. And the crowd. They were all over it. I almost lost my beer because of you”, he laughs. I watch his eyes light up as he stumbles excitedly over every word. He’s enigmatic and ethereal. Cute but almost otherworldly.
“Jawbreaker, huh? That is pretty rad. Thanks, Bowie”
He pauses lighting his own cigarette and looks up at me. “Excuse me?”
“Well, I don’t know your actual name, so it’s the best I can do for now.”
“My name is Gerard” he states around the stick in his mouth, eyebrows furrowing a little.
“Hm. Geeerard.” I say, testing the feel of his name in mouth. “Nah. You sound more like Bowie to me.”
He looks a little irked. “And your name would be?”
“Frank. Frank Iero.” I say with a shit-eating grin.
“Nope, you sound more like an asshole to me.”
The smile doesn’t leave my face. “Touche.”
We sit in a comfortable, friendly silence for a while until we both begin to shiver.
“I forgot how fuckin’ cold Jersey can get.” I say through chattering teeth.
Gerard simply nods a little, probably too afraid to lose any body heat.
“I’ve got an idea on how to warm up”
He must see the mischievous look on my face, because he visibly gulps and that pinkish (A/N: Ha!) color once again rises to his cheeks. “And what would that be?” He answers cautiously.
I take a step closer and his body is practically pushed against the brick wall behind him.
“It’s practically my fault you spilt your beer. Let me make it up to you with a drink?” I say lowly.
His eyes are impossibly wide and they search my face for answers to a question I hadn’t asked.
“I-I uh….I can’t. I have to, uh, meet my brother and I have work tomorrow like all day so I really can’t. I’ve gotta go” he huffs, doing his best not to look at my lips again.
“Not a problem. I’ve got to pack up here anyways.” He visibly relaxes.
“Yeah, yeah of course. Uh, see you around or something” He fidgets, already rushing towards the door.
“See ya around, Bowie” I tease softly.
He glances back at me, a small smile gracing his lips.
“Later, asshole.”

Notes

Whew! Sorry it took me so long to update. It's been a long week.

I think the story is coming along nicely, but I am curious if the first person thing is working? I feel like I write "I" a billion times. If it works, great. If not, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it/shift perspectives.

Hope you guys enjoy. Voting/subscribing is rad and I absolutely love reading your comments so please feel free!

xoxo ghoul