NightCurse

The rest of the band and I watched as Frank had his puffy slate-gray coat yanked off of his body by the guard as he tried to capture Frank. I couldn't help but snicker as the guard fell backwards on his butt with Frank's coat covering his face. He definitely got what he deserved.

Without his coat, Frank came rushing toward us with his small crimson carry-on bag in his right hand. By the time he boarded the plane, there was only a minute until it took off. He violently slammed his bag into the over-head baggage compartment and jumped into his seat with haste. Right before he buckled up, the plane began to take off on the runway.

Frank sat right next to me. He smelled heavily of some sort of light yet manly cologne. Roxie sat on the inside next to Gerard. Mikey and Bob sat together as Ray had both seats to himself. The seats were made of royal blue velvet with two lines of golden stars going down each of them. As Frank began reading a magazine he found in the magazine holders on the seat, I leaned on him in fatigue. I could tell this was going to be one long trip.

I tried to fall asleep, but something unknown kept me awake. It felt like something wicked yet quite distant. I then laid my head on the window and stared at Frank, who flipped through the magazine to find an interesting article. I became bored within three minutes of watching him flip through many pages of the magazine yet still lack an article he wished to read. I began thinking of ways to relieve this suffocating boredom. I had to have some sort of thing to do, didn't I?

Roxie was a jet-black clump of fur on Gerard's lap. She actually looked dead as she slept on his lap noiselessly with her feet surrounding her face. Gerard was staring into space and looked like he was having an interesting daydream. I wondered what he was daydreaming about.

I began to feel drowsy and thoughtless. I just tossed my head back and stared at the ceiling with an emotional blank. My eyes closed for a second, but then I blinked them back open quickly. After a short ten minutes, I felt rather dizzy and weak, a feeling I usually got only when I'd been up for over thirty-six hours. However, I hadn't been up nearly that long, and I was feeling horrendous. My eyelids felt rather heavy, and the only thing keeping them up was the muscles, which were very fatigued and lethargic. Five minutes after that, I began to lean on Frank, and he seemed to not care a single bit. He simply laid back in his chair more in order to get comfortable...

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Two hours after my nap, I awoke to the vibrant conversation between the band and another guy with hair longer than Gerard's, a tad lighter, and much messier. He was wearing an AC/DC T-shirt and some blue bell-bottom jeans that appeared to be torn and frayed all over and quite dirt-caked. He smelled of the over-whelming odor of a thick spraying of Axe and after-shave. He sat directly in front of Gerard, who was a few seats across from me and Frank, and faced our side of the plane, which consisted of me, Frank, Bob, and Mikey. This guy fit the exact description of some guy in another band Gerard was telling me he used to be close friends with, until they had fallout because of Gerard being suicidal. Jerk... What was his name, though? I couldn't quite remember. Bob? No, that's Bryar's name. Bo? Probably not. Berney? Maybe. I'll just think of him as Berny for now, until I find out his real name.

They were discussing what happened since they'd last seen each other, which hadn't been in over a year. I was glad they were keeping it civil so far, but I sensed some negative energy in the air.

"I've been thinking of getting a tattoo for my girlfriend, Lindsey, on the back of my neck," Gerard told Berney, "but I just can't. I can't overcome my fear of needles. It's horrible."

"Hah," Berney replied callously, "I don't see why you're so badly afraid of them. They aren't that bad!"

"You don't understand, do you?"

"No! I never quite understood you at all."

Gerard just kept quiet for a few minutes after that. He looked as if he was thinking of something to say but couldn't think of anything good. He nibbled a bit on his lip nervously and stared at his fingers. Probably worried he'd say something wrong or something, he kept his mouth shut for a while and waited to see if Bert was going to say something.

Bert decided to leave for a few minutes to get a magazine. He came back with some odd magazine I'd never seen in my entire life. It had a navy blue cover with a picture of an iPod Touch on the front. All I could read on the cover was, "How to Treat Acne with In-Home Remedies." I seriously needed an eye check-up.

I watched as he scanned through the magazine as he looked for something interesting. That is when he stumbled upon an article he must've liked. The only thing in the title I could make up was the word, "suicide." I observed closely as his eyeballs flashed back and forth through the black blob that must've been the article. After five minutes, he threw the magazine on the seat next to him and turned back to Gerard.

"Why was I ever even friends with a pathetic, little boy like you who couldn't even take a tiny bit of pain in his life, huh?" Bert said callously to Gerard, whose face appearance proved obvious annoyance.

"If you're going to start this shit again, I suggest you leave."

"Why? You don't have your little, baby blocks to play with?" Bert spat out.

"Seriously. Leave. Now."

"You don't even know what pain is, do you? It's not like you were kicked out when you were just sixteen, were you? Oh, wait. That's right. You were bullied and depressed. Boo Hoo. You poor thing."

The sarcasm in his voice as he said those last few sentences was almost sickening to my stomach. I tried to not listen to the rest of the conversation. I began playing with my hair mindlessly while staring out my jet-black window, but after five minutes, I couldn't help but continue to listen to their conversation. Watching people fight upset me tons, but I just couldn't help it.

"You are the most pathetic creature I've ever met in my life, Gerard Way!" Bert was right in his face screaming as he said that.

"At least I'm not an asshole like you!"

"You're the fuckin' asshole."

"I don't give a fuck what you think of me. Just get out of my face. NOW!"

That's when the physical fight ensued. First, Bert started it by gripping onto Gerard's neck and attempting to suffocate him. Gerard then ripped a big wad of Bert's shocking jet-black hair out and dropped it on the ground. Suddenly, they were both punching each other in random parts of each other's bodies, and Gerard bit Bert's arm.

Bert had Gerard on the ground instantly after Gerard did that and proceeded to kick him in the back. "I hope you burn in Hell, motherfucker!" he shouted almost demonically at Gerard, "You'd surely deserve it!"

From behind, Frank was preparing a sneak attack. He leaped out of a seat that I didn't even know he had even been in, grabbed Bert by the neck, and slammed him down. Instantly, he had him in a headlock as Bert's furious legs began kicking the arid air.

After about five minutes, Bert stopped kicking, so Frank figured he gave in. However, when Frank let him go, Bert tackled Frank down to the floor and began punching him in the back of the head. Blood began gushing out like a volcano from Frank's head, but Bert still continued to beat him up.

Gerard couldn't stand a bit of this. There was no way some jerk like this would ever beat up someone as sweet as Frank right in front of his eyes! He kicked Bert off of Frank and pushed him underneath the seat.

After spraining his wrist, Bert finally gave up and walked to another compartment of the plane in immense pain. He surely did take a beating, but it was his own fault.

Suddenly, Bob said, "What's his problem?"

"No idea. He was always like that..." Gerard replied.

"Really? I've never seen him act like that in my life."

"Oh, yes. When me and him were alone, he'd always start fights like that. He's sure got a short fuse."

"That's for sure."

That's when Mikey interrupted, "I'ma go get us some coffee, 'kay?"

"I'll help you out with carrying it all," I replied to him. This was only to get my mind off of the fight that had just taken place here. I couldn't stand to see any of the guys all bloody like Frank had been. He sure did look a mess. Maybe he should've had his head checked, in case he needed stitches. However, he just decided to plop back down into his seat and wait for me and Mikey to come back.

Mikey sure was breathing rather heavily. He reminded me of someone who'd been running a mile, but really he was just so stressed out over what had just happened. His willingness to control his anger was like a near-collapse house held up by merely a single jack. At any given moment, the jack could've given out, and the house would've collapsed instantly. On his face was a furious grimace, and his milk chocolate-brown eyebrows were pointed down sharply He must've looked quite scary, because every time we'd pass someone else on the plane, they'd dart into a seat to get out of his way. Even I feared him a considerable bit; for I knew his angry side definitely was not anything near the beautiful appearance of the early morning sunrise but something quite unimaginable to most people, including me at first.

When he grabbed the paper Dixie cup by the coffee machine, he knocked all of them down, and they all fell down to the ground like defeated bodies of a great war. I heard a bit of a growl come from him, but I could tell he was trying to control his anger, even if he was a hair away from flipping out.

When he became angry like this, which happened every month or so, it was like he was possessed by some evil spirit. It was not like his usual self at all. He turned into an absolute monster waiting to destroy you in one shot. It was horrendous, but after a day or two, the mood usually subsided. When this monster took over him, however, the monster was strong and absolutely ruthless.

Then, we walked back to where everyone else was. Mikey still looked as if he were about to kill someone, so I kept my silence and distance from him in case something were to go wrong. Instead of calming down, it seemed as if he were getting even more agitated by the second. I had a horrible feeling that he'd be flipping out on some trivial thing in a few seconds, but hopefully he wouldn't.

By the time we got back, everyone but Gerard had been sleeping. When Gerard noticed us coming back, he said in a half-sleeping voice, "Welcome back." Mikey didn't even glance at him but instead just jumped back into his seat. Gerard kept staring at him for a second after that but knew better than to say anything.

Suddenly, Mikey shouted, "WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?" and gave him a fierce snarl.

"You seem rather agitated. What's wrong?"

"YOU!"

Gerard didn't reply and instead began staring out his window into the blank darkness. Mikey did the same, and it seemed to calm him just a bit. I then walked over to Gerard and sat next to him. I leaned on his shoulder and began to doze off...