Infinite

Gerard is sleeping in my bed.

Karl and Pete got home hours ago, after Gerard had already fallen asleep. Before that, Gerard and I had taken a shower, ordered pizza, and watched the last few episodes on the Friends DVD from earlier. It had been nice. We had brushed our teeth together, and I had caught him looking at me, giving me that small smile when I looked back at him in the mirror before rinsing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just… you."

I had felt him fall asleep curled up next to me, his arm draped across me and his face buried in my hair. That used to make me feel safe, and I should have been able to fall asleep too. But I couldn’t even close my eyes. My whole body felt like it was charged with something, and it still feels that way.

I heard Karl and Pete talking about us when they came in, when they probably thought that we were asleep (or that I was asleep, since they couldn’t really know that Gerard was still here – but on the other hand, I wouldn’t put it past Pete to have pushed Gerard in the direction of our apartment when the others left to go see Panic). I only heard a small part of what I guess was a longer conversation.

"She’s great", Pete had said. "I’ve really missed her. It’s like she’s finally come out of that Gerard-shaped shell."

"Yeah." Karl had sounded tired. "I love the guy, but he really fucked with her head. Or maybe they both fucked with both their heads, it’s kinda hard to tell."

It wasn’t a conversation that I was supposed to hear, but they didn’t exactly keep it down.

I’m sitting on the fire escape now, with the window open behind me. It’s the kind of New York thing I once wished for; I wanted nothing more from life than to feel confused on a fire escape in New York City. It’s not really all that I expected it to be.

I can’t make sense of this. I’m still a bit sore in all the right places, and the guy I’ve spent this past year longing for is currently asleep in my bed. And I’m not happy.

It’s almost chilly outside now, and I guess that’s reasonable since it’s only May. The leaves on the trees on our street have just started to show themselves, rushed by this week’s warm weather. I should be asleep, not freezing wrapped in a blanket with no pants on on a fire escape. Tomorrow, or rather today, is what might be the most important day of my career so far.

My career.

Last year right about now, I was just a high school dropout. High school dropouts are not supposed to have careers.

My mind sounds like my mother, and I try to shake the sudden feeling of dread of becoming just like her. What my life has become is something amazing; it’s something I’m so proud to have achieved that I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s every part of me that’s good.

And still, Gerard is sleeping behind me, and there’s something off with that. I want desperately to crawl up next to him, and just feel that for a minute, everything is okay. Gerard is here. Gerard is home. I’m in love with him.

It takes me a few minutes more of freezing on the fire escape to realize that loving Gerard is not the same as wanting to spend the rest of my life with him.

"Morning, bedhead."

He’s lying next to me, texting, when I wake up. I’m closer to him now than when I finally went to bed; my left leg is draped across his right one, and my nose is pressed up against his shoulder. I’m thirsty and sleep-deprived.

It feels nice, though, lying next to him.

"What time is it?"

"Ten. Or ten fifteen", he says, checking his phone.

I move away from the warmth of his body, somewhat reluctantly, and I roll out of bed feeling like something from a horror movie. I didn’t get into bed again until almost three in the morning, and it felt like I was tossing and turning for hours.

"It’s today", I say stupidly.

"Yeah." Gerard looks at me searchingly, but doesn’t say anything more. He wants me to say something, I’m sure, but I don’t know what to tell him.

I don’t look at him as I reach for my own phone on the night stand. I’m in a tank top and my pajama shorts – he slid them off of me yesterday and they ended up in a heap on the floor. If I concentrate, I can still feel his fingertips on the inside of my thigh. But I don’t concentrate, and I almost visibly shake my head to make myself not think about it.

If Pete and Karl are surprised to see Gerard at breakfast, they don’t show it. If they have any thoughts at all about the way Gerard kisses my cheek when I’m pouring cereal into a bowl next to the microwave, they keep it to themselves. I catch them looking at each other knowingly, and I know that I will have to explain this to them later.

I don’t really know how, though. I have no idea what we’re doing, and I don’t think that Gerard has any idea either.

If playing at Madison Square Garden is a big deal for Infinity, it’s even more of a lifelong dream for My Chemical Romance. When we’re in the car sent to pick us up, I can’t help but smile as I realize that Gerard’s fidgeting with my hand has nothing to do with him being nervous because of me – well, not just because of me. He can’t sit still because it’s his first time at the Garden too.

I remember going to see the New York Rangers with mom’s ex Owen, in some lame attempt from his side to bond with me. I was ten, Owen got drunk, lost track of me, and I spent two hours alone on the streets of Manhattan looking for him before a kind police woman helped me call my mom. It’s not exactly a happy memory. But I remember walking up to those front doors and thinking that this was the coolest place I’d ever been to.

I get to spend exactly nine minutes backstage at the coolest place I’ve ever been to before Frank has found me, and he looks at me like I’ve stolen his puppy and given him candy at the same time.

"Are you sure you know what you’re doing?" he asks when we’re getting lunch from the backstage buffet before Infinity’s soundcheck. Of course, he’s figured out the exact reason why Gerard didn’t get back to their hotel last night.

"I don’t have fucking clue, Frank, what do you think?"

I don’t mean for it to sound like I’m mad at him, so I fire off a smile which probably doesn’t look strained in the least. He quirks an eyebrow.

"Good to know."

We spend two awkward minutes filling the rest of our plates with veggie tacos, before he says:

"I know you can make your own decisions, A. It’s not that. I just don’t want to be the one to find you like that ever again."

It’s not an accusation. It’s just Frank, using a voice I haven’t heard before. It sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking, and even though I know he doesn’t mean to make me feel bad, the guilt wraps itself around me. He must have been so worried about me. They all were.

I don’t say anything while we’re getting seats in the dining area, which is far more luxurious than the one in Philly.

"You know I still love him, right? And I don’t want to hurt him. It’s just…" I pick at a piece of salad, not really feeling hungry. "I don’t think I can give him anything anymore. Not right now, anyway. And there’s like so much stuff going on, and I don’t even think that I’ve forgiven him yet. And this thing with my mom just… God, it’s so messed up."

Frank isn’t eating either while listening to me ranting. This isn’t really the ideal place for this conversation; Gerard is getting food by the buffet, and our bandmates and managers and crew are either doing the same or are about to sit down right next to us.

"Tell him that."

I look up at Frank from the piece of salad I’ve torn into pieces on my plate.

"I can’t."

"Why not?"

I don’t have time to think about my answer, though, because Gerard is walking towards us and sits down next to me.

He pecks my cheek when he sits down, and my heart swells. Butterflies. And it doesn’t matter that people can see us.

He smiles at me, and I love him.

Why not?