Nineteen

His eyes were flecked with green and gold on a base of hazel. I couldn't remember the last time I saw such beautiful eyes in my life. I only knew this because I felt so wasted that I couldn't help but gaze into those hypnotic orbs. A sloppy smile spread over his face as one of the guys did his guitar solo. I wasn't paying attention to who it was though because I was more focused on those eyes of Franks.

"Stop calling my house, stop calling my house!" Frank sang in the mic but his eyes remained on me. He was totally gone and by the looks of things I bet I could get him into a bed tonight and do the things I dreamt of. "Stop calling my house!"

"Great show." I complemented. I was tired and tipsy and just really wanted to collapse onto a bed and sleep until the summer came.

"Mm." Frank mumbled distractedly. "You're cute." he mumbled. I grinned to myself though I really shouldn't have. I should have taken that opportunity to tell him to get some rest but I didn't Instead I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. The alcohol was working, I felt Frank’s lips begin to kiss back but after that was a total blank.

“Gerard?” my head throbbed and I felt sore all over. “Gerard.” I opened one eye lazily only to be blinded by the sun. I reached my hand up to black the light but as I did so I felt my hand come in contact with something. “Oh for fuck sakes.” The person said. I opened my eye again to see my brother picking his glasses up off the floor.

“Sorry.” I mumbled. Mikey looked up and rolled his eyes.

“You are not very light Gee.” I frowned at his words.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I dragged you into a taxi and then into a motel.” He said a bit louder. I winced at his words since I was going through a hangover.

“What happened last night?” I asked.

“Well, besides me dragging you here, after the concert you and that singer got a bit too friendly…” he paused when he saw my expression. “Your tongue was shoved down his throat.”

“Really?” I asked amazed. My dreams were coming true, too bad I couldn’t remember it.

“Yes and when he passed out on top of you. I had to drag him off, did you notice how many tattoos he has?” Mikey brought his face really close to mine. I smelt coffee on his breath. “And you like him.” He whispered.

“I uh-“

“I don’t like him.” Mikey interrupted flatly.

“What? Why not?” I asked and winced as my head ached.

“Not your type.” I frowned at him.

“Oh, and what is my type?” I asked.

“Guys that don’t travel all over the country looking for cheap fucks.”