Your Makeup on My Pillow Is Proof

Gerard leaned against the cold brick wall backstage. What now? His... whore was here.
His band mates liked his whore.
He didn't.

He loved the way Frankie looked, his voice, his smell, the sex, the way his face looked on paper.
But he just didn't love Frank in any other way than... a whore.

Gerard glanced out onto the stage to see Mikey helping Frank with the chords, he was a fast learner and Mikey was a good teacher. How would he explain to the band that they couldn't have Frank, who was an amazing guitarist, in th band because Gerard had slept with him... and paid Frank for it.

♥ ♦ ♣ ♠

Frank smiled lightly at Mikey. "Wow. You're so good... I feel so dumb just watching you play. I can't believe you know how to play my guitar and yours, and I can't even handle mine."

"Don't be hard on yourself. You taught yourself how to play, so your technique has much to be desired. But you're amazing at your own stuff. We'll have to convince Gerard to let you write some of the music." Mikey returned the smile warmly.

Frank blushed a touch. "Really? I'm good?" He grinned at this and continued playing the chords that Mikey had shown him.
Frank craned his neck so he could see Gerard backstage. Oh Gee. If only he'd known...
He'd fix it. He'd apologize and they'd go back to being together. Would the band mind?
Would Gerard mind?