Be Seeing You


Mikey got up slowly, brushing off his pants. 'Shit.'
"Uh, hi. This is kind of awkward, huh." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked around.
"Not really. Besides the fact that you guys kicked me out of the band, and now you're world famous? And maybe that, 'Oh, who would hire a drummer that got kicked out of My Chemical Romance?"
"Yeah, about that..."
"It's okay. I got over it. How's your brother?"
"Oh, Gerard? Oh, he's good. Sober." Mikey immediately regretted saying the last part of his sentence. The whole reason Matt had been kicked out of the band had been because of his and Gerard's drinking habits. "I mean, you know, he doesn't drink so much anymore... I mean..." Mikey looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. Matt looked down at him and chuckled.
"You live here?" He glanced down the empty hallway.
Mikey looked up. "Yeah. Well, kinda. It's really a temporary thing. D'you wanna come in?" he offered, trying not to get on Matt's bad side. Again.


Frank sang quietly as he strummed his guitar, sitting on yet another hotel bed. As he reached the extent of the lyrics he'd written, he began to hum along to the chords. It had been three days, two plane flights, and four shows since the announcement of Mikey's soon-to-be fatherhood and Gerard's date with Amber. The boys had earned a well-deserved break.
Gerard looked up from his notebook, where he'd been avidly scribbling for a good twenty minutes.
"New song?" He asked with interest. Frank hadn't worked on a song in a long time, and this one sounded very different from his Leathermouth work.
"Maybe. Not sure yet. Still workin' on the words."
"Huh." Gerard sniffled and rubbed his face. As he scribbled in his notebook, he thought of the show they were playing the next day. Amber would be there. He'd personally given her a backstage pass and a plane ticket so she could go see them. He smiled at the thought of seeing her again, but he was nervous that she might not have a good time or that he'd do something stupid on stage.
Bob walked in, drinking a Coca-Cola. He tilted the end of the bottle upwards, finishing it with a few quick gulps, and set it down on the table. Ray followed behind, running into the door frame as he read his magazine. Frank giggled. Matt didn't bother to wipe of his smirk as Ray walked in, a bit embarrassed at his absentmindedness.

"Hey, Gerard?"
No reply. Matt tossed a crumpled peace of paper at Gerard's head.
"Huh?" Gerard hadn't been listening. His sketchbook was filled with scribbles of Amber. He had written her name several times in curlicue letters, other times in scratchy print. There were sketches of her face, her eyes. Her butt.
"What're you doing?"
"What? Oh, uh, nothing."
"Lemme see it, then." Matt was bored out of his mind.
"Aw, c'mon! Gerard, what is it? Is it for your girlfrieeeeend? Is is a poem or some shit?" Frank teased, butting into the (not really much of a) conversation.
"No!" Gerard shouted angrily at him.
"Well, sooooorry." Frank then muttered something under his breath, which sounded a lot to Gerard like "PMS."
"I heard that." He threw his pen at Frank, the end of it hitting him in the corner of his eye.
"Fuck! Aw, Jesus!" He yowled, pressing his hands to his closed eye and gritting his teeth. Gerard laughed. "Sorry," he said. The rest of them were snickering and grinning.
After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Frank grew bored and decided to prank-call Mikey.
"Hullo?" Mikey sounded tired.
"Hey, uh, I mean..." he cleared his throat and tried to make his voice sound girly. "Hello. You gave us a call that you might be interested in a Seventeen magazine subscription?"
"No. Hi Frank."
"Damn! You got me. What's up?"
"Uh. Nothing." He dismissed the idea of telling Frank about Matt. "You?"
"Bored. When're you coming back?"
"Oh, I was thinkin', and..."
"And I was thinking maybe I'd better stay here."
"I think I better stay here. You know,, Alicia and the baby."
"Oh. Like... like you're not coming back?"
"Oh. Okay. Bye."
"Bye, Fra--" But Frank had already hung up.


"So what happened?" Matt took a swig of his second bottle of beer and set it down on the glass-topped wooden bar.
"Nothing. I told Frank I wasn't goin' back." Mikey looked down had the dark countertop and pushed around a toothpick with his forefinger. Matt looked at him with a curious expression on his face.
"You need another beer." He stated.
"But--" Mikey began to protest, but Matt had already ordered him another glass. Mikey began to ponder over what had occurred over the last three days, after being rudely awakened by Matt. Nothing had happened, really. Matt had come in and said hello to Alicia, and then he and Mikey had watched football, which didn't really interest Mikey very much. Matt seemed to be interested, though, what with his cursing at the television screen. Then Matt had left. Mikey still couldn't figure out why Matt hadn't wanted to talk about the band or what had happened in their lives since. Now they sat in a dim, smoky bar, talking about nothing in particular, listening to bad 80's rock.
After a good twenty minutes, Matt decided he was bored. He walked over to a group of men shouting at a television and joined them. Mikey laid his forehead onto the bar top and let out a groan of unhappiness.
"What's eatin' you?" The bartender, an attractive girl who looked to be in her mid-twenties, continued to wipe bar clean as she awaited Mikey's answer.
"Mmm?" Mikey peeled his forehead of the countertop and rubbed his face, his bloodshot eyes fluttering open. He hadn't slept the night before. "Oh, uh, nothin'."
"No, I know it's somethin'. Lemme guess. Hmm... girlfriend dump ya?" The girl brushed her wavy brown hair out of her face. She leaned over the countertop.
"What? Oh, uh, no, I'm married."
"Really? Huh. Okay, um... lose something?" She said, her mouth scrunched to the side.
"Kind of." Mikey looked out the window, his face now more easily visible from the dim light of the overhanging lamps. Moths circled the lamps lazily, occasionally bumping into the light bulb and falling to their untimely deaths. They must have inhaled some of whatever the man at the far table was smoking.
"I know you!" Marissa said in realization, now able to see his face. "You're Mikey, right? From My Chemical Romance?"
He panicked, ready to sprint away in case anyone started chasing him and asking him to father their children. His panicked turned to sadness when he remember that he wasn't in My Chemical Romance anymore. He was just Mikey. Michael Way. "Naw. You got the wrong guy," he replied sadly.
Mikey's eyes shot open as Marissa grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled his face just an inch away from hers. Her eyes flicked around his face, her mouth pulled to the side and her brows furrowed, as if searching for an answer. Mikey had a frightened look on his face, not sure what was going on. His eyes met hers and his face flushed: she had beautiful hazel irises. He looked down, averting her hard stare, only to find himself looking down her shirt. She smiled when she saw his cheeks go red. Mikey pulled away, gripping the edge of the bar with sweaty hands, still trying not to look at her eyes. Or her boobs.
"Aw, you're blushing. I know it's you," she smiled. "We've met before. I'm Marissa. Don't you remember?"
"Uh, no. I'm gonna go now." Mikey hastily walked over to Matt and told him he was leaving. As he walked passed the bar, Marrisa smiled. She put her elbows on the bar and rested her face on her hands, her eyes following Mikey as he walked out the door.