Infinite

We spend the rest of the afternoon going to various record stores and comic book stores. I find a few albums I’ve been looking for and Gerard gets some comic books. I won’t pretend I don’t memorize their names - right now it feels as if everything he does or says makes a permanent imprint on my mind.

All too soon, it’s seven thirty and we’re outside The Grudge again. This time we’re not a rookie band but supporting act for an unknown-but-still-a-lot-more-famous-than-we-are band from Boston, called Cyclol Accidents.

When we arrive, Karl and Noel are unloading the stuff from the van. I can see Karl carrying my guitar case.

“Hey guys, what’s happening?”

They look up from their unloading and carrying. Red isn’t in sight, but I’m sure he can’t be too far away – I try not to think about how he will react.

“Soundcheck in fifteen minutes,” Karl says, and gives Frank and Gerard an acknowledging nod. Noel smiles and does the same. “Your make-up is in the back, I got you the red one too ‘cause I… well, I thought it would look good, or something.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“’Or something’?”

“Yeah, whatever, it was a cool color.”

I’m actually impressed. I’ve been silently hoping for months that the guys will let me put makeup on them for our shows.

Greg is there, but seeing as he’s the owner of the club that is kind of obvious.

“What, no mascot today?” he says when he sees me. I smile, but it doesn’t feel that good to be reminded of the fact that the last time I was here, it led to me not being allowed to babysit Jamie.

Red doesn’t look at me directly as we get our stuff on stage, but I can almost feel the tension when he realizes Gerard and Frank are there.

While we do our soundcheck, Gerard and Frank sit in the back listening. When we’re done, we join them to listen to Cyclol Accidents – they’re quite good, not really my kind of music but good nonetheless. The singer is the kind of good-looking guy who probably will have a heap of fanfiction devoted to him if his band ever gets that famous.

Gerard is sitting next to me, keeping his gaze fixed on the people on stage.

I’m not. I’m watching Gerard, admiring how the light reflects in his kind of messy, black hair (I liked it blonde too but black seems to be more him) and in his eyes.

Suddenly, he’s looking at me – Cyclol Accidents have gone silent – and he smiles when he sees me watching him. I smile back, and somehow I can’t move my eyes from his face.

It probably lasts only for a few seconds, but those seconds seem like minutes – I think the color of his eyes is called hazel, but it doesn’t really matter what color they are because either way they are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.

I think he is about to say something, but just then, Frank (who’s sitting on Gerard’s left side) says something about the band, making Gerard turn away.

-

There are people wearing home-made Infinity t-shirts.

I see them as I go on stage, five people in the first row in white t-shirts with our band name written in bold black letters on the front. And when I start singing, they sing along.

They’re not the only ones – people without white t-shirts sing along too. At first, I’m so shocked that I actually miss the beginning of Detention’s chorus. The rest of the band is on it, though – just a couple of bars and I’m back on track.

After half an hour, we’re exhausted, sweaty and extremely happy. Even Red smiles, and that doesn’t happen very often nowadays.

The lights go down and we walk off stage, but the crowd is still shouting.

“So that’s where all those demos went,” Karl says.

“Yeah, despite the crappy sound,” I reply, looking over my shoulder to the stage. “Man, they really want us to go back on.”

Greg, who’s standing backstage, gives us a thoughtful look.

“Do it,” he says. “Cyclol can wait.”

The crowd that meets Cyclol Accidents aren’t half as wild as our was.

The five shirt-wearers, three clearly teenage girls and two guys (they must’ve had false ID's to get in here), are gathered at the backstage door when we exit.

“Nice t-shirts, guys!” I say as they approach us, and they all smile nervously as the rest of Infinity file up next to me.

“Thanks,” one of the girls, a short one with green streaks in her black hair, calls over the noise that is Cyclol Accidents. “We just wanted to say that we think you’re awesome.”

“Yeah,” another girl, with short, bright red hair says. “The demo’s great, we saw you in Newark a month ago, it rocked.”

“I’m Lizzie and this is Amy and Norah, and Danny and Eric,” the short girl continues, pointing at her friends as she says their names. Karl smiles and introduces himself and the rest of us, although I suspect they already know who we are since I’ve just introduced us on stage. There’s no way I’ll remember their names, but they’re nice and for some reason they think we’re awesome.

I try to listen to the half-screaming conversation, but my eyes start to wander towards the back of the club. I’m torn between talking to our ‘fans’ (I’ve never considered myself as a person who could have fans, so it’s kind of an unreal feeling to have people you don’t know saying that you’re awesome) and looking for… people.

I don’t have to decide, though – suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“You’ve got fans, huh?” Gerard says, close to my ear – probably so he won’t have to yell, but it still sends shivers up my spine.

“By the looks of it, yeah,” I say, turning to face him for a split second (don’t look him in the eye), before turning my head to see the rest of My Chemical Romance coming our way. A few people turn their heads but most of them are focusing on Cyclol Accidents instead of random famous musicians who happen to walk by.

Frank is carrying his bag and Mikey is carrying Gerard’s, but the latter drops the bag at his brother’s feet when he reaches us.

“But Mikes, I thought you were gonna do my laundry,” Gerard says in a whiny voice. Mikey just rolls his eyes, and then looks at me, smiling.

“You guys were awesome,” he says, nodding to emphasize his words. “I really liked your demo.”

“I told you they were amazing on stage,” Gerard says, grinning and putting his arm around my shoulders again. To his (and my own) surprise, I sneak my arm around his waist.

He doesn’t pull away or look at me strangely, he just pulls me closer to his body.

Our fans have realized who I’m talking to, and the girls – Lizzie, Amy and Norah – suddenly gather around me and My Chem. I think Gerard will let go of me when there are so many people around, but he doesn’t and it makes me feel almost elevated.

“C-c-can I have your autographs?” the girl I guess must be Norah says, while the others look at the band in awe.

The rest of my band and the two other fans, the guys, join us just as Mikey says:

“Sure!”

He reaches for the Sharpie that Norah is holding out, and then signs her forearm. The procedure repeats a number of times, since there is one marker, three girls and five band members. Gerard manages to sign three arms without taking his left arm from my shoulders.

“Uh, are you two…?” Lizzie asks when she turns to me, probably thinking it’s safer to talk to me as I’m apparently a bit more on her level.

“Are we what?” I ask, not looking at her as I scribble something I hope is my signature on the small space on her forearm that isn’t covered in MCR autographs. I know what she’s asking, I’m just not entirely ready to answer.

“Together?” she finishes.

“Um…”

“No…?” Gerard says, sounding as hesitating as I feel.

“No,” I finish. Lizzie doesn’t look entirely convinced, and gives me a look that says “yeah right” before handing the marker to Amy.

Well, that was a smooth conversation.

Cyclol Accidents’ set is over and the DJ has started to play other songs, and since we’re blocking the backstage door with our group of fourteen, we move away to a more secluded area of the club were the music is not so loud. It’s still loud enough to make us have to raise our voices – for complete silence we probably would have to go outside.

After receiving a kiss on the cheek from the singer as a form of bribe, Frank agrees to take Gerard's bag too.

"But it's not because of him kissing me!" he says when the rest of My Chem start mocking him for it. "I just knew he has other things on his hands right now."

I try to look at anything but Gerard, but it doesn't go that well. His arm is still around my shoulders and mine is still around his waist, and the rest of My Chem and Infinity keep giving each other meaningful looks. Thanks for being obvious, guys.

All except Red, who has disappeared. I noticed his menacing stares a few minutes ago when he saw the whole of My Chemical Romance coming our way, and now he’s gone. Along with that girl Amy.

The weird thing is that it doesn’t feel the least bit strange. Red has been my friend since kindergarten and we’ve always been close, but these past few weeks he’s been like a stranger to us.

Gerard glances at me.

“You do that a lot.” Man, what is it with him and whispering into my ear?

“What?”

“Disappear.”

“Oh.”

“Are you all right?” he says, pulling me a bit closer.

“Yeah, well, it’s just… Red, he’s been a bit weird.”

Gerard nods.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Karl told me,” he tells me when I give him a surprised look. “Red doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

I look down, a bit embarrassed.

“Uh, well… it’s more about the fact that you’re in My Chemical Romance that bothers him, I think.”

“So that’s why he can keep a civilized conversation with Frank but not with me?”

I look up at him. I haven’t thought about it that way – I have a vague memory of Red talking to Frank, but I’m not sure…

“Oh, you probably don’t remember that, it was during Cyclol Accidents’ soundcheck…”

I blush and he smirks, and to my surprise he puts his lips to my forehead for a split second. Then, while I’m busy recovering from the shock, he turns his head and says:

“Oh, Pete Wentz is here."