Anonymous

Things started to look up- at least, on the inside. On the outside, you were still the stone wall everyone was getting used to. It was irritating, to say the least, watching you drift further and further from your fans; wearing sunglasses in interviews to hide your discontent, giving fake smiles everyone can see right through. Of course, not everyone was so understanding. Most of our fans started to drop you as their hero. You were the reason people had faith in us- they heard your voice and all the problems that had plagued them suddenly disappeared. Now, your voice was dead and our fans were dwindling. Some…even started naming me as their hero- I think that pissed you off though you never said anything. It would have been a stupid thing to fight about, so early in our relationship.

It was one of your down days- I hate wording it like that…makes it sound you were back on drugs- and we were sitting in the lounge area of our bus. Our fans were screaming outside- half for you, half for me. But neither of us went out. I had a good excuse…I was sick and my doctor told me that if I didn’t stay indoors until the concert, I was probably going to end up in the hospital again. I hated denying our fans pictures and autographs…they paid to see us, I wanted to give them what they wanted. You, however, you were using me as your excuse not to go out there. You said, “I want to make sure you are okay.” Like me being ill ever stopped you before.

I was leaning against your body- your arm tightly around my waist- reading a rock magazine from three months ago. While on tour, we forget about the outside world…sometimes we forget that there is life beyond big venues and this small tour bus. I sometimes wished you and I could get rid of all the fans, the fame, the everything and just live in New Jersey…safe. But we could never do it, huh? Because we loved playing music too much and we loved the acknowledgment. And fuck, I’ll admit it, the money ain’t bad either.

But I hated hiding; I hated how I felt like a total hypocrite; speaking out for homosexuals and then allowing myself to trap myself in a closet with you. We couldn’t tell anyone we were gay, let alone a couple. See…according to our record label, it’s okay to pretend to be gay, but not if you actually are. So the guys knew, with the exception of Mikey, and Brian and Worm. Those were the people who needed to know, who should know, and that was fine for the time being. But I wanted to shout it from the rooftops- Oh but see, I actually value your privacy unlike some ugly bitch I know.

“That’s from March,” you said suddenly, “why don’t you just buy the new issue.”

I sighed, “I haven’t read this yet.”

“Oh, really? Eliza brought it back when she was touring with us.”

Ew, Eliza germs were swarming all over. I could feel them infecting my body and brainwashing me into thinking she can actually cut hair. Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic; but nevertheless, I threw the magazine across the room.

“Hey hey,” you sighed, “don’t be like that, Frankie.”

“I’m not being like anything,” I argued, taking your hand in mine and playing with your fingers. “I just hate it when you talk about her.”

You let out another frustrated sigh, “Frank, I love you…only you.”

Yes, I wanted to believe that; only me. That’s how it was supposed to be right? So why was I so damn uncomfortable? Our bodies fit perfectly, our minds were almost one sometimes, we always got along…but as I laid in your embrace, I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t feel you as I felt you in that five-star hotel bed. I craned my neck awkwardly to see if I could get a good look into your eyes; instead I saw you still…unmoving, your green eyes looking at nothing. You were lost, that’s why I couldn’t feel you- zoned out almost completely. This was where you got all your great ideas; when you were out of your body.

And though I respected your need to be creative, I just…really needed to feel you. I moved so I was sitting up right, facing your stern profile. You looked kind of cute when you were seriously; a little dead to though, so I didn’t like it so much. I waved my hand in your face- nothing. I smiled coyly and decided that being romantic was the only solution. I leaned over and kissed the side of your chapped lips. I immediately felt the warmth that had been missing overwhelm my boy- well…either it was raw love or I was getting a fever.

You snapped out of your trance and opened your mouth to allow my tongue investigate your- you know I really suck at thinking up cute ways to say I am sticking my tongue down your throat. Really, can anyone describe making out without sounding like a complete ass? Anyway, we were “swapping spit”- cause I’m immature like that- and enjoying every second we were attached. But your cell phone rang and dragged us away from our momentary heaven.

You pulled away and checked your phone; knitting your eyebrows together when you saw the number.

“I have to take this babe,” you planted another quick kiss on my lips, and went to the back of the bus to have your private conversation. I wanted to call you back, but whatever it was…had to be important, right? I mean, important enough to leave me…with a lonely tongue.

I huffed and slouched in my seat; pouting like a child. I don’t know why I have these bouts of immaturity- maybe all twenty year olds are like this. It would explain Eliza’s juvenile behavior, but I like to be above her. No…I am mature, just not serious. Yeah, that sounds a whole lot better. I was the clown of the band…or sidekick. Maybe both. I wonder if I was a super hero, what my name would be…maybe Super Frank! No, that sounds so obvious.

You can tell I am happy when I just start rambling about nothing and everything; like a kid with ADHD. Maybe that’s a bad analogy, but you know what I mean. When I am happy, everything is worth talking about…in a non serious tone. When I am happy, everything in this fucked up world seems right- perfect. What I am in love, wow, when I am in love everything is just insane. Insane, but in a good way. Insane like our fans are insane, insane like us. Insane people you can trust, it’s the normal ones who are shady.

And those were my thoughts, almost everyday. Rambling, that’s how my mind worked. That’s why I could never be as good a writer or artist as you. I mean, I was good. I could write songs…but never were they as beautiful as what you wrote. You wrote songs with a different and deeper meaning. You inspired everyone; I just know how to make people go nuts in a mosh pit. The most I could do when it came to writing was inspire you. I was the sidekick…so what would my name be? Stupid Frankie. Stupid because I put you on a pedestal.

Ray came in, asked where you were. I half ignored him and just said “the back.”

“Ah,” he shrugged, “Bob, Matt, and I are going to the store to pick up some stuff for the bus. We will surprise you and Gerard with something good for dinner.”

“No meat,” I mumbled, not looking at him, as if he forgot I was a vegetarian.

“Yeah…no meat.” I could tell from his response he was confused, maybe even slightly worried. But I didn’t look at him, or force a smile, or act like the clown everyone expected me to. I just sat alone, staring on my hands that held no ring- wondering when you were going to prove all those pretty words you said back in that bed. If you were.

Moments after Ray left, you emerged from the bunk area, staring at your phone confused.

“Frankie,” you began, shoving your phone in your pocket, “ever heard of Eliza and her crew bribing fans.”

My eye twitched at the mention of her name, “No. Why?”

You shifted nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, “Nothing, that was Mikey on the phone. Eliza called him…apparently one of our fans sent her a message through her myspace saying that she was bribing people and that it was wrong. I don’t know- whatever it was, it pissed her off enough to go bitching around.”

“We did have one fan who had back stage passes once out of no where; like we didn’t give them to her and she didn’t seem like she was a friend of the crew.”

We exchanged mixed looks- you were cautiously gazing at me and I was spitting fire into your eyes. Fans don’t lie, right? They don’t take after you.

“What do you think…” you sighed, “is this a big enough deal to do something?”

I thought intently about it; my eyes calming down and wilting to the emptiness on my ring finger. “Not like we can press charges. Or bitch about it now, that happened months ago.”

“So…what do we do…” you returned to your seat next to me.

“Call Elissa, tell her and Eliza to quit doing that…that’s the only thing we can do.”

You grabbed a hold of my neck, smiling at the lost look I had in my eyes. I guess I was cute when I was lost. Maybe that was just cute to you; whatever. As long as I got to see your smiling face, I was fine. I could feel. You pressed your lips against mine, quickly, before we returned to our original positions.

But there was a question bugging me. “Why did you have to leave to talk to Mikey?”
I never felt someone tense up as stiff as you did….