Sequel: Make a Mess of All the Plans We Made ›
Your Makeup on My Pillow Is Proof
Temptation To Scream
Mikey looks down at the list of guitarist playing tonight. Eight different ones. If he didn't find a new one soon, the band would be nothing. They'd finally narrowed it down to two drummers and the hunt for guitarists was still hitting a dead end.
Mikey cleaned his glasses on his shirt and sat down at a stool by the stage. Guys who played here were usually eager to find a band to play with. Especially if you are just needed to fill out sound rather than be THE guitarist. Mikey himself played bass guitar while his close friend, Ray, was the main guitarist. The two of them had met through Gerard and had been close ever since.
Mikey was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as a small figure shakily climbed onto the stage. A guitar in hand, he swung his legs up onto the stage and stood up.
The figure shuffled into the spotlight and squinted his eyes as he sat down. A man of about 5'4" now sat with his guitar, glancing around. Very few were watching him so he calmed quickly.
-♥-♦-♣-♠-
He inhaled slowly, calming himself. No one was watching. It was okay. Just.. play.
He began to play his first song that he'd written himself, soothing himself with his music. Soon, people grew bored with his song and turned away, all except one guy who sat right in front of the stage.
Creeper.
He continued to play for the next half hour, rarely catching anyone's interest with his music. Whatever, he got paid either way.
After listening to a few lame claps issuing from the drunks, he stood up and exited back into the dimly lit bar.
-♥-♦-♣-♠-
Mikey quickly slipped through the crowd of drunks after the guy. Exactly what they needed. Mikey waited outside the managers door for the guitarist to come out.
He glanced down at the sheet of paper that the manager had given him. It contained the names of the guitarists and whether or not they wrote their own music and some cell phone numbers.
Mikey's eyes quickly scanned it to find the 9 o'clock players name.
Ah. Yes.
Frank Iero.
Mikey cleaned his glasses on his shirt and sat down at a stool by the stage. Guys who played here were usually eager to find a band to play with. Especially if you are just needed to fill out sound rather than be THE guitarist. Mikey himself played bass guitar while his close friend, Ray, was the main guitarist. The two of them had met through Gerard and had been close ever since.
Mikey was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as a small figure shakily climbed onto the stage. A guitar in hand, he swung his legs up onto the stage and stood up.
The figure shuffled into the spotlight and squinted his eyes as he sat down. A man of about 5'4" now sat with his guitar, glancing around. Very few were watching him so he calmed quickly.
-♥-♦-♣-♠-
He inhaled slowly, calming himself. No one was watching. It was okay. Just.. play.
He began to play his first song that he'd written himself, soothing himself with his music. Soon, people grew bored with his song and turned away, all except one guy who sat right in front of the stage.
Creeper.
He continued to play for the next half hour, rarely catching anyone's interest with his music. Whatever, he got paid either way.
After listening to a few lame claps issuing from the drunks, he stood up and exited back into the dimly lit bar.
-♥-♦-♣-♠-
Mikey quickly slipped through the crowd of drunks after the guy. Exactly what they needed. Mikey waited outside the managers door for the guitarist to come out.
He glanced down at the sheet of paper that the manager had given him. It contained the names of the guitarists and whether or not they wrote their own music and some cell phone numbers.
Mikey's eyes quickly scanned it to find the 9 o'clock players name.
Ah. Yes.
Frank Iero.