Butane and Bullets

Frank zipped his hoodie up as he stood on the Way’s porch. During the day it was still relatively warm for October, but this early in the morning he could just about feel the Jersey chill biting at his ankles. It wasn’t even 8am yet.

Frank was on his way to college for the first time in about two weeks. If he didn’t put in at least semi-regular appearances, he’d end up getting in shit with the Dean again, and that was just one extra unnecessary stressor. Between part-time shifts at the pizza place, band practise and playing shows, college had dropped quite an embarrassing distance on the priority scale. So here he was, up bright and early, ready for a day chock-full of learning.

He tried really hard not to groan at the prospect, but didn’t quite manage it. It was Gerard and Mikey’s Grandma that answered.
“Oh hello, honey. Come you in out of the cold.”

Elena had barely finished her first word of greeting before she was herding him into the house and closing the door. She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen, offering him a seat at the table.
“Would you like a drink? I’ve just finished brewing the coffee.”
Frank declined politely as he sat.
“No, thank you. I wasn’t planning on stopping long. I’m on my way to college.”
“Oh, are you now? Say no more. I’m impressed. Mikey’s not as gifted at making his early classes as you appear to be” she smiled, pouring coffee into a mug with Snoopy on the side.

Frank stretched his lips into his cheeks; awkwardly smiling instead of admitting that he attended so infrequently that he’d previously been threatened with expulsion.

“Which one were you here to see?”
“Umm, Gerard?” His statement came out more like a question, but upon viewing the clock hanging on the wall he backtracked a little. “But it is quite early, actually, so maybe he’s not up. I could leave a message instead?”
“Oh no, we can’t have that, Frank, I’m under strict instructions” she informed him, coming closer with the full mug in hand.

He mirrored the smile she offered, but couldn’t help the twitch of his eyebrows, wondering what instructions she was referring to. She seemed to wave it off, however, and pushed the mug into his hands. Frank hadn’t previously pegged Elena as one of those pushy grandparents who force-fed the guests to bursting, but perhaps he was wrong. He couldn’t say it was a bad trait, though. In fact, his smile grew a little wider.

“I was only asking because you can go and give that to Gerard. Those basement stairs are no good for my old knees, you see. You’ll be saving me a trip.”
“Oh!” Frank exclaimed, jumping up and cradling the mug. “Of course.”
“He needs to take his pills” she said, nodding in that understanding manner that came so naturally to her. “You can tell him if he wants breakfast, he should come up here and I’ll make him some. We all have to do our part to coax the monster from his cave”.

Frank grinned helplessly at her conspiratorial wink, pleased to know that his very reason for dropping by was to do his bit.

Elena watched Frank disappear through the basement door, closing it softly behind him. He could definitely do with a comb through his hair, but she liked him. He was the sort of boy who could have a conversation with his friend’s parents – or grandparent, in this case – whilst being polite, but not overly shy. It didn’t feel forced, and she was glad he had come around. She hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks, and had secretly worried that the two might have fought. Relieved that this didn’t seem to be the case, she turned and popped some bread in the toaster. Maybe he was in too much of a hurry to drink coffee, but he could at least take a slice of toast to go.

Frank was slow in his descent. His stomach was fluttering embarrassingly. What if Gerard was asleep? Frank wasn’t exactly a shy dude, but he and Gerard weren’t quite yet at that stage of friendship where he could jump on the bed until he received an intelligible response without fearing for his life. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about waking someone gently. The few times he’d shared a bed with someone, the girl had always woken up first, so that experience provided no insight. He had literally no idea how to approach the situation, and as he knocked on the door he hoped wholeheartedly for a chirpy reply of “Come in!”

Of course, no such phrase was uttered, and Frank was met with stony silence, alone in the stairwell with Snoopy’s smug face taunting him for his timidity. Taking a deep breath, Frank slipped in the door and quickly shut it behind him before he had a chance to look over at the bed and chicken out.

He was careful when he moved the comic pages that covered Gerard’s desk to put the coffee down. His eyes skimmed over them quickly (“My name is Annie. Annie Frankenstein.”) and he considered joining the legion of people questioning Gerard for abandoning art. He’s so fucking good.

He turned, arms folded across his chest as he viewed the snoozing mound of Gerard that lay tangled in Star Wars sheets. The only thing propelling him forward was his desire to get to college on time. Had it been any other day he’d have probably just plonked himself on the floor, knees hugged to his chest and waited for the older boy to stir naturally. Instead of mourning this lost opportunity, Frank stalked forward and gently pushed on the mattress with his sneaker.

Gerard’s eyebrows tightened marginally, and Frank could have died via mortification at how cute he found it. This early in the morning, Gerard’s hair wasn’t even masquerading as anything other than a bird’s nest, one arm dangling off the side of the bed. His mouth was gaping open, and although he wasn’t snoring, the moment at which exhale turned into inhale was clearly audible in his throat, noise puncturing the otherwise silent room. Gerard was by no means an attractive sleeper, but that serene look that Frank supposed came over everyone when they slept seemed to look particularly good on the elder Way brother. Perhaps it stemmed from Gerard’s depression. He could look so serious and troubled during the day that the relief slumber carried was especially poignant upon his face.

Frank pushed on the mattress again and added a “Hey”.

Gerard woke up this time, groaning and wiping his previously discarded limb across his face. He seemed to stop midway, pausing for a second, and then looked up at Frank from under his forearm.
“...Frank? What are you doing here?”
“I come bearing sweet nectar, naturally” he replied, retrieving the mug and waiting for Gerard to sit up. He did so slowly, sleepy confusion crinkling his face. “Elena said it’s to take your pills with.”

Gerard paused, hand outstretched as he was reaching for the coffee Snoopy concealed. Elena. Oh yeah... Right. He gave one short chuckle, remembering what he’d previously said to his grandmother about Frank, and closed his fingers around the mug, vocalising his thanks. It was really fresh, and sort of stung his throat on the way down, but he held his tongue. Gerard had promised coffee long ago that he would never complain about it.
“Will you pass one to me, please? They’re in that bowl over there.”

Frank walked over to where Gerard gestured, and recognised them from before. He took one out of the bottle and dropped it into Gerard’s palm which immediately popped the capsule into his mouth, chasing it with a shot of caffeine.

This was the first time the two had been in a room together since the night Gerard had got drunk at the Nada Surf show and Frank was relieved that things weren’t awkward. Apparently Gerard must have badgered Mikey for Frank’s hotmail address, typing out an email as soon as he’d got home that night. It was sitting in Frank’s inbox the morning after, both apologetic and blasé. Gerard had suggested they both forget about drunken slurrings, and Frank had been all too eager to agree, claiming deceitfully that he could barely remember what had been said anyway. Things seemed okay mostly, and they had been in contact a couple of times since. They had both been busy at alternating times, however, so meeting in person had been bypassed. Enough was enough for Frank this morning, though. He missed the Ways and was eager to secure some of their time. Frank hadn’t hung out with Mikey since that night either, and he was also eager to be caught up to speed on all of Gerard’s band developments.

“So, anyway. I’m not stopping long. On my way to college.”
Gerard finished his mouthful and set the mug down on a stack of magazines by his bed.
“Rutgers, right? Check you out little boffin. It’s like super early.”

Frank was about to rib Gerard over the fact that this was a normal time of day for most people to be going out to work, but he thought better of it. Frank had been in bands since he was 11 years old but had never had the guts to quit everything to focus solely on music. He had to admire Gerard for that, if nothing else. He hooked his hands in his back pockets, opting for a safer reply.

“Don’t remind me. But I’ve heard they kick you out if you don’t make them think you wanna be there. Apparently the best way to go about that is to show up occasionally.”
“Good plan, batman. So, you just popped in to bring me coffee or did you have something else in mind?”

Frank ignored the dull heat that tickled his cheekbones at Gerard’s words, his mind twisting a seemingly innocent question into one full of innuendo and implications. He hoped Gerard was doing the same.

“Haven’t seen you guys in weeks, man. Thought I’d come and invite you along to a show tonight, entice you out of your Batcave. I mean, it was just an idea, see if you could make it. It’s up in Clifton. We’re only on support, but the headliners are pretty sweet. And besides, I wanted to catch up, you know? Hoping you’ve got a lot to tell me.”

He looked around the room as he spoke the next part, eyes falling on Gerard’s horribly messy bookcase.
“I mean, you guys invite who you want, as well. More the merrier and everything.”

He was mentally reordering the shelves as he rocked back and forwards on his heels, so he didn’t catch Gerard’s facial expression when he replied.
“Umm, sure. I mean, if Mum will let me borrow the car or I can catch a ride then I’m in. I’ll talk to Mikey later on, see what he says.”

Frank turned now, and grinned.
“Cool. Well. I’d better head off. Forward you the address later?”
“Sure, okay. Umm. I’ll come see you out.”

Gerard extracted himself from the protective cocoon of his comforter, and picked up his mug to refill. He was wearing a plain ratty grey t-shirt, but Frank noticed that Gerard’s navy pyjama bottoms had red bow patterns all over them. They were surely intended for females. He didn’t say anything, though, just slid an amused glance up to Gerard’s eyes and began to climb the stairs.

Gerard spent the climb convincing himself that he was most certainly not staring at Frank’s ass; he was merely looking straight ahead. And if Frank’s jean-clad backside happened to be in his line of sight, then that simply wasn’t his fault. He also mentally thanked the powers that be that he hadn’t woken up with morning wood today.

The second the two stepped into the kitchen. Elena spun round and held out a plateful of toast. Frank turned to look at Gerard nervously. He was met with widened eyes and a shrug.
“Don’t look at me, man. Frankenberry’s my poison.”

Elena smiled at the two boys.
“I just thought Frank could do with some breakfast to go. You can eat it on the way?”
He beamed. No one besides himself had made his breakfast in months.
“Elena, you spoil me.”

She gestured to the kitchen table, laid out with more toppings and condiments than Frank had ever seen in his life. Before he could even think about it he was leaping forward and turning all the jars, checking out his options and wondering how many slices he could take before it became impolite.

Gerard slid his grandmother a timid grin. She had done what he asked and sent Frank down when he was still asleep. Although he was faintly embarrassed for Frank to have one again caught Gerard in his pyjamas – the red bow design by no means an improvement on the puppies and bones of last times – he was glad to be awake to witness the boy’s glee over something as simple as breakfast food.

“I’ve never seen some of these toppings, man. Wow.”
“I don’t know how she does it. If I’m hungry I can never find anything and yet look at all this.”
“That’s because you go straight to the cereal cupboard, my darling” she laughed, pinching one of Gerard’s cheeks playfully, before walking forward and placing the plate of toast – four slices of what looked like sourdough – beside Frank’s elbow on the table.

Elena looked like she wanted to ruffle Frank’s hair, but was mildly afraid of his dreadlocks. Gerard had to hold in a snort as she lowered her hand and patted his shoulder instead.
“They’re all for you” she assured him with a warm smile.

Frank grabbed a knife and began buttering his slices, which were miraculously still very warm. How do grandparents do this shit? Fuckin’ awesome. Trying really hard not to drool in anticipation, he attempted to shake off the niggle between his shoulder blades that reminded him that Gerard was watching. He soon relaxed when he heard the tinkling sound of dry cereal clinking against a bowl and someone opening the fridge door to retrieve the milk. If he wasn’t the only one eating then it made things a little less awkward. Frank ended up with four different toppings; mint-chocolate spread (How does this even exist? ...I blame Mikey.), peanut butter, blackberry jam and marmalade.

When he stood back up, Elena had retrieved a couple of pieces of tissue for Frank to hold the slices in as he left.
“Thank you so much” he gushed as he handed them to her, bending to shrug his backpack onto one shoulder.

Frank turned toward Gerard and had planned to tell him how awesome his grandma was, but when he did so, Gerard had just dribbled pink milk down his chin. Frank bit back his words, stomach clenching pleasantly as Gerard thrust a hand across his mouth, cheeks red with embarrassment.

Giving him time to compose himself, Frank turned his attention back to Elena. He once again communicated his thanks before shrugging to himself and giving her a quick one-armed hug.

Gerard’s lungs felt heavy. Why do I have to be such a social reject? My fucking grandma is better at talking to Frank than I am. He’d never admit out loud that he was jealous of his own grandmother, but put his bowl down, suddenly irritated by the sight of the little pink frankensteins. Frankenberry. Wonderful. Maybe I should start eating Count Chocula instead.

“Gotta go, G” Frank said, eyes soft on Gerard’s face.
“Yeah. Okay. Umm. Have a nice day?”
Frank’s mouth twisted into a smirk.
“If your grandmother wasn’t here, I’d be cussing you out right now. I’ll send you the details later, okay?”

Elena slid him an appreciative smile and Gerard nodded furiously, fingers twitching against his thigh as if he wasn’t sure if he should wave or not. Frank decided to save him the awkwardness and closed the distance between them, throwing an arm around his neck and giving him a hug of his own.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay? If you have transpo issues hit me up.”
Gerard mumbled “okay” in Frank’s ear and as he withdrew Frank beamed again, throwing them both a wave as he turned to leave, toast in the other hand.
“Finish your cereal, okay?”

As soon as he heard the door close Gerard thunked his head on the sideboard.
“Why am I such a loser?”
“You’re not a loser” Elena frowned authoritatively. “You’re just different.”

Gerard groaned. Elena was wonderful, but sometimes even she couldn’t avoid the cliché default answers that relatives were obligated to provide. Apart from Mikey, of course. Mikey would have just agreed with him and loped off again.
“I love you, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“Frank is hardly a normal boy, Gerard. Strange boys keep strange company.” Gerard coughed out a laugh and lifted his head again. “Now finish your cereal.”

************

Sometimes Frank wondered why he ever began college. He skipped more days than he attended, and he never quite felt on the same wavelength as his supposed ‘peers’. Frank was an easy-going guy, so he got on okay with his classmates and never had to sit on his own, but it never went beyond small talk and discussing assignments.

Every time they began a new module, the oceans between him and his other classmates became increasingly apparent. Upon receiving a new lecturer they usually had to do this boring-as-shit introduction thing. Starting at one end of the room and ending at the other, each student had to introduce themselves and explain why they had chosen to take the course in the first place and what they wanted to do in the future. The thing that pissed Frank off the most about this exercise was that the tutor doesn’t actually mean “What do you want to do after you graduate?” What the tutor really means to ask is “What career in this field are you aiming for?”

In Frank’s mind, the answers to these two questions may not necessarily be correlates. Frank didn’t want a career related to his course. Frank wanted to be in a successful rock band and change people’s lives. Frank wanted to put his passion down onto tape and hear kids in England and Japan and fucking Africa singing the words back at him. He wanted to sign his name for tearful fans so many times that the scribble no longer meant anything when he looked at it. He wanted to tour the world for so long that the rancid smell of Jersey made him weep with happiness when he came home. He wanted boys to get his album cover tattooed above their heart.

When he told people this, they usually laughed in his face, so whenever it was Frank’s turn to introduce himself he tended to mumble that he didn’t know, or make out that it would be an adventure seeing where he ended up. In actuality, he was sick of telling the truth and being met with a placating attitude in response. He was done with people humouring him rather than believing him, so had instead turned to lying and feigning confusion.

He wasn’t the sort of douche who announced that his band were very soon to have a record out, and for everyone to buy 10 copies each, because his philosophy was that one day all these people would see his face advertised on the side of stadiums and hate themselves for not making more of an effort.

The second the lecturer announced they could leave Frank leapt out of his seat and threw a cursory goodbye to whoever he’d been sitting next to that day. He hadn’t even unpacked his bag at the start of class, so he wasn’t delayed by gathering up papers and pens and ended up being the first one out the door by a long shot.

Frank tore through the corridors at a rate of knots, desperate to be somewhere he felt normal again. He was on his way to band practise and couldn’t wait to hold his baby in his arms again. He’d been playing around with a few new lyrics recently and today was the day he planned to show the others. He tried to play down how his chest vibrated when he pondered the possibility of a new song in the works. They’d only just finished recording their debut and there was already a new idea? Frank wondered idly if he would be able to convince the label guys to let them go back into the studio to record one more if anything became of it. There had been a distribution delay, and even though the album was supposedly done and dusted, they still had no word on a solid release date.

Twisting his key into the lock on his car door, he chucked his bag onto the passenger seat and took a moment to flick through his cassette tapes before sparking the ignition. He was feeling a bit of Minor Threat today. It wasn’t a long drive to band practise, but he whacked the volume up, sort of hoping he’d hit some traffic so he could get through the entire album. The succinct nature of punk songs really leant a hand when Frank took mostly short drives. He sang loudly, warming up his voice by laying down his own vocals over the top of the track.

Sure enough he hit traffic in the clusterfuck of parental cars and the flurry of extra bus services ferrying kids home from school. ‘Filler’ was just about to finish playing through again as Frank pulled up and parked messily, knowing that hardly anyone used the lot. He could see that the other guys were there already, their cars parked near the van, and got out, wondering if it would be a little too cheeky to have a cigarette before he went in, considering he was already late.

He didn’t have long to ponder over it before he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he had just enough time to register that it was Mikey calling before he hit green and pressed it to his ear.

“Hey, Mikey, my man!” he greeted happily.
“So now you’re dropping over to our house specifically when you know I’ll still be sleeping off a hangover. Are we breaking up?”

Because Frank knew Mikey well he could tell it was a joke despite the lack of inflection carried across in his voice.
“Ah, shut up, Gerard’s room was closer” he laughed, once again telling his stomach to quit its clenching. He almost hoped he was getting sick again, just so he could rationalise what his body was doing.

“Well I was just calling to tell you we’ll both be there tonight, anyway. I’m about to start a short shift at work, so I’ll just stick around afterwards as I’ll basically be there already. Gerard’s catching a ride.”

Frank physically pressurised his tongue with his top teeth to stop himself asking who with.
“Sweet. It’s gonna be a good show. I’ve gotta run, though, okay? I’m about to start practise.”

They bid their goodbyes and Frank jogged into the building, making a beeline for the room they always rented. He could hear Tim warming up, hitting in a pattern that vaguely reminded him of the album he’d just finished in the car. He didn’t look at anyone but his guitar as he walked in, apologising as he moved swiftly.
“Sorry, guys. Class overran and then I hit traffic. What’s first on the list?”

He picked up his guitar with gentle hands, slipping the strap over his shoulder immediately. He hated to see her sitting on her own in the corner. Time to make it up to her.

They ran through the five-song set they would be playing later on that night, and didn’t hit a single hitch. Everyone was playing perfectly, and Frank couldn’t wait for the album to drop just so they could schedule some headlining shows.

“Hey, has anyone heard from the label?” he asked hopefully.
“Are you kidding, Iero?” scoffed Hambone. “You’re the singer; they’re most likely to come to you first. If you haven’t heard anything than neither have we.”
“Guess you’re right. I’d say we should call them again, but I think they got mad last week when Shaun called” Frank laughed.
Shaun flipped them all the bird, but laughed along, remembering how high he’d been when he made that call.

After another perfect run-through of the setlist, the band decided to have a break, cracking open cans of cola and generally catching up. Frank waited until there was a natural lull in conversation before he reached for his bag and pulled out the piece of paper he had been brainstorming on.

“So, guys, has anyone come up with anything new recently?” he asked, knowing full well that his attempt at sounding casual was so lame that he needn’t have bothered.
“Ooh, Frankie’s not-so-subtly-hinting” Shaun announced, seeing straight through Frank and grinning.
“It’s not much yet, you know, but it’s a start. I was wondering actually, what do you think the chances are of the label letting us record anything else? I’m not saying we’re definitely going to make something of what I’ve got, but you know; if anyone has anything.”

Everyone seemed to mull it over for a minute or two.

“I don’t think we should push it” declared Hambone. “I’ve been working on little bits and pieces too, but the album’s been delayed so long already that I don’t know if we should risk it taking even longer.”

Everyone seemed to agree, and Frank nodded. It was the sensible option, really. They were so desperate to get the record out that no one dare do anything to potentially increase the delay. He started to reach for his bag again to replace the scrap of paper for safe-keeping. Shaun stopped him.
“Wait, what are you doing? Show us what you’ve got and then maybe we can put it away for the next album.”

Frank beamed, reaching for his guitar. Time to shine, baby.
“Like I said, I really don’t have a lot right now. But I came up with this little riff which I thought was quite sweet.”

He played the short piece, adding in a couple of possible chord changes on a whim.
“And then I just have a tiny snippet of lyrics. I don’t have a clue on the actual vocal melody or anything yet, but do you wanna hear?”

Shaun snatched the paper from Frank’s hand and decided to read it aloud himself. He cleared his throat mockingly, but when he spoke his voice was level and serious. Shaun read like a poet; Frank had always thought that.

“Believing in you,
With no real reason to.
Dirty hair and frightened eyes,
If they say that I can’t see you,
Then for you I’m gladly blind.”

He looked up and gave Frank a couple of nods, smile pulled up at one side.
“I really like that last part. Nice word play.”

The other two communicated similar sentiments, and they vowed to work on their own stuff soon to try and add to the chords Frank had played them. He sat back and stretched, happiness bubbling in his lungs in response to the support and encouragement of his bandmates. He stood up abruptly, energised by the exchange.

“We gonna practise some more?”
“Yeah, let’s run through the set again” called Tim from behind the kit. “But, dude. Hungry. Pizza?”
Frank nodded, already pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Pizza.”

************

Gerard liked to dance. He was almost certain he looked ridiculous while doing so, but when Kaye was dancing with him, pressing her body against his in such an obscene manner he had no presence of mind to be concerned with modesty or self-consciousness. His head already felt hazy, stuffed to the brim with cotton and so heavy that the slightest jolt let it loll, neck too weak to be of support.

The only part of his body Gerard could consciously feel was his mouth. And perhaps his dick, just at the edge of comprehension. Kaye was all over him, hands skittering as if she didn’t know where to place them, and licking into his mouth as if he’d just sampled the elixir of life.

They’d hung out a while before Ray came to give them a ride to the show, and ended up drinking while watching a movie. Now they were both drunk to the point where the only thing they wanted in the entire world was an orgasm. In his drunken state Gerard wished they’d just fucked before they left; a thought that would repulse him had he been sober.

He needed it; he needed the friction so bad. He needed to nut more than he needed another drink, and even as he angled his hips he hated the feeling so much that he wanted to strip off his own skin and bathe in acid until he’d singed away all the impurities. He loved the feel of her sliding against him, but he knew how this scene ended and he was never eager to repeat it again.

Even as she took his hand and led him away from the dance floor, the pair grinning all the way, he wished he could just speak up and stop letting the alcohol make the decisions for him. Now that she’d separated their lips all that Gerard could feel was his dick pulsating in his pants and he knew that once again he’d lost the battle against his own body.

The two ended up in the alleyway, dirty and cliché as anything he’d ever read in his mother’s romance novels. Nothing good ever happens in the seedy alleyway. This is where the handsome man spins a web of lies to conquer the glory caged behind cotton panties. Had the roles reversed? Was Gerard the helpless damsel? Was Kaye lying through her pretty little teeth?

Even as her hand tugged on Gerard’s zipper and crept through his pubic hair to claim her prize, he felt powerless to stop it. What did she want from him? And how did she make it feel so fucking good while she took it?

Everything but his face was frozen to the spot, head heavy against the brick wall, mouth slack and eyes open wide but unseeing. He could feel her breath against his throat, slightly quickened from the exertion of moving her arm so fast. The slide was perfect, her hand smooth and tight. Gerard’s stomach dropped quickly and his abs clenched so hard he knew they’d be sore in the morning. He heard himself give a short moan, and Kaye’s grip tightened, obviously spurred on by his vocalisation.

His gasp was high-pitched when he came, eyes flickering and elation spreading all over like a warm blanket. She giggled, nuzzling at his neck as her hand gradually slowed. Giving a short laugh Gerard encircled her in his arms, panting into her hair between kisses.

“I love you.”

And there it was. Every fucking time. He wasn’t surprised when Kaye stiffened, not managing to suppress her sigh.

“Yeah” she breathed against his chest before placing one last kiss there. She broke away then, fastening his pants and shaking her hand as she went back inside.

Gerard rolled his eyes and let his head drop back against the brick. Useless. Fucking useless. He could feel his come start to plaster his underwear to his skin and he just couldn’t care. Call it punishment. He should have stuck to his guns and never invited her in the first place. The cool air cleared his head a little bit and he found he was finally able to move properly.

Straightening his shirt out, he walked back into the building through the side-door they never should have used in the first place. The heavy beat of the house mix vibrated through the whole building. Thank god. He hadn’t missed the beginning of Pencey’s set this time. That was something at least.

He made a beeline for Mikey and ordered himself a beer and a shot of whatever the barman had handy.
“Just saw Kaye walk off” Mikey stated. “You guys have a fight?”
“Something like that” he mumbled, before knocking his shot straight back.

Mikey gave his brother an evaluating look and decided to leave it. Kaye had wandered off, and neither of them had any cause to find her again besides making sure she had a ride home. Man, he was going to skin her alive next time he saw her. She and Mikey may be friends outside of her relationship with Gerard, but if it came down to a choice between her or his brother, the question needn’t even be asked. The Way brothers were tight, and nothing would ever change that.

He squeezed Gerard’s shoulder, and bumped against his side companionably.
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. Frank’ll be on in a minute.”

It kind of embarrassed Gerard at how much that genuinely lifted his spirits, but for once he didn’t try and suppress it. He needed that boost right now, and he didn’t mind pretending on the surface that he was eager for the band to start playing. After all, the truth – that he was eager to see 1/5 of the band – was more an inaccuracy than a lie.

Ray came back from wherever he’d been hiding, and the three chatted and drank until the lights dropped. Gerard span immediately, losing the thread of whatever they’d been talking about, and glued his eyes to the stage. Gerard had taken the time over the last couple of weeks to listen to the Pencey Prep songs that Mikey had stored on the computer, so he recognised the song they launched into as ‘Trying to Escape the Inevitable’. He nodded his head along to the guitar riff just before Frank began to sing, eyes closed in emotion, philtrum resting loosely against the microphone.

He noticed that Frank was still wearing the same clothes he’d worn when he visited that morning. It struck Gerard a little odd. Wouldn’t you wear something different onstage? He couldn’t say he’d really thought about it before, and made a mental note to revisit the topic later on when he had his closet handy.

The music sounded heavier live than on tape. Gerard mimed along with the words, laughing to himself when he found the lyrics were hitting a little close to home. He was glad he had no idea where Kaye was at this moment in time and kept his eyes on the pint-sized front man.

Frank had noticed the Ways staking out the bar at the beginning of the song and had kept his eyes on them as they moved closer to the stage, still sticking quite close to the sides. He wasn’t as surprised to see Gerard this time after Mikey’s phone call, but he still threw a grin in that direction, hoping that further encouragement would increase the likelihood of Gerard coming out more often. It didn’t take Frank long to notice that Kaye wasn’t with them, and if he threw himself into his performance even harder afterwards then that was just a happy coincidence. He was drenched in sweat after the first song, panting into the microphone as the crowd cheered. Frank lifted a cursory grin as he heard Mikey whooping louder than everyone else. Gerard was now leaning with his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, smile loose and languid. It made Frank’s stomach drop, and for the first time since he’d been in the band he wished the set was over already just so he could go over there.

“Thank you” he said into the mic instead, tuning his guitar for the next song. “Thanks for coming down so early to support the local boys. We’re in a band called Pencey Prep.”

He paused then, to allow the smattering of applause and a couple of whoops that came in response.

“Right, we’ve only got a few more songs for you tonight, but we’re gonna try and warm you up the best we can. This song is called ‘Yesterday’.”

As the song began, Gerard scanned the room, checking out the positive reactions and hoping to God or Vishnu or fucking Batman that the reaction to his own band would be even half as good as all the smiling faces dictated. That was the wonderful thing about Jersey; everyone did come down to support the local bands. People may look upon their tiny state with a measured amount of apprehension, maybe even disgust, but Jersey had produced some pretty fucking substantial acts. Gerard could only hope that one day Pencey Prep and his own as-yet-unnamed band could be classified in such a manner.

Maybe one day they could break out of Jersey, go somewhere else, like the South Coast. Maybe Gerard’s band could open for Frank’s. Maybe they could go on tour together. How fucking amazing would that be? Gerard couldn’t think of any other band he’d rather tour with. Well, you know, besides Maiden and Morrissey and The Misfits. He could learn so much from Frank as a front man. He could teach Gerard how to put up that emotional barrier; how to perform to the best of his ability despite judgemental looks.

He watched closely for the rest of the set, noting the way Frank’s eyes crinkled during emotional lines and how he threw himself into the fast pace and raw power of P.S Don’t Write. And that screaming thing, too. Maybe Frank could teach Gerard how to scream properly. He was only just beginning to get to know his own voice. He had no idea what he could do and what he couldn’t yet. It’s hard to accurately judge your own voice amidst the poor acoustics of a dusty basement.

Gerard clapped vigorously when Pencey finished off their set, leaving the vocal appreciation down to Mikey. Just before leaving the stage Frank aimed a meaningful look in their direction, and Gerard nodded in return, hoping that it was visible from the other end of the room. He figured the band had to pack up before the headliners came on, and Frank was silently asking him to wait around. Not that Frank really needed to ask. Gerard wasn’t going anywhere.

He gave a quick glance around the room, and caught Kaye’s eye while she was talking to a female friend he vaguely recognised. She looked up almost guiltily, but then tried on a small smile for size. He kept his face blank, looking away again soon after. She didn’t need to know that his heart jumped every time she smiled at him, regardless of whether he was angry at her or not. Like she needs more power over me. He was pissed off at himself, actually. Why couldn’t he show his irritation appropriately? His body wasn’t on his side it seemed, but he ordered another beer, eager to try and keep it somewhat happy if not cooperative. His head was still cloudy, but he felt more in control than he had earlier, and he just knew that he’d berate himself in the morning for being such a typical guy earlier on.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to meet up with you guys anytime this week” said Ray, nudging Gerard’s arm to get his attention.
Gerard waved nonchalantly as he finished his mouthful of beer, metallic tang familiar and comforting.

“No worries. We need to scrape the money together to rent a practise room first anyway. We could only afford a couple of days, and both of us are pretty broke right now. His attic isn’t really big enough now that he’s moved all the recording equipment in.”
“Well, I’ll start saving” Ray smiled.

Gerard returned the expression, grateful that Ray had agreed to attend a practise session in the first place. They’d known each other for a number of years, but weren’t especially close. He was surprised that Ray had answered the phone so readily, let alone express enthusiasm and offer his services as soon as he was available. The first night Gerard saw Ray play guitar he decided immediately that the guy was the best Jersey had to offer. He had clearly been born to play, talent practically oozing from his fingertips. He might not look like your typical guitar god, frizzy mop of hair propped on top of his scalp, and glasses even geekier than Mikey’s perched on his nose, but Gerard was certain he’d never seen anyone better. The idea that Ray had even agreed to attend a practise session blew his mind and he felt grateful to have caught him at the right time.

He’d called Ray the day after he last saw Pencey play. They’d taken a minute to catch up before Gerard launched in with the hard hitting questions. Ray had told him that he’d been playing drums for a band but that it was nothing serious. Gerard didn’t care if it was serious or just a bit of fun in someone’s garage, Ray Toro could not play the fucking drums. No way. There was no way a man with talent of that calibre should be discarding the instrument he was born to play and trying out the drums as if he thought that was okay, that it was acceptable that he do that. Immediately Gerard had asked Ray if he was happy. It took a moment of silence and reluctance, but Ray had eventually admitted that no, he felt like he was going nowhere, and did Gerard actually have a point to all this, because this conversation is a little fucking depressing, okay. Gerard told Ray about the song, which he’d since named Skylines and Turnstiles. He explained that he wanted to really try to make this work; that he already had a drummer onside, and stressed as much as possible what a terrible guitar player he was in an attempt to garner pity. Thankfully, Ray had pretty much agreed immediately to come try it out. How could it hurt? Who knows, this could be the salvation they’d all been looking for.

The next day Gerard had typed out his lyrics and sent them along to Ray, receiving a reply full of praise and eagerness to start jamming together. That day needed to come pretty fucking soon.

Gerard spotted Shaun first, who came straight over and shook his hand warmly. Gerard congratulated him on the performance, enthusing that he’d loved the setlist and the energy.
“Speaking of the energy” Shaun laughed. “Here he is.”

Sure enough, Frank appeared at their side, grinning so hard Gerard feared his smile would split his face. It was tough to resist and soon enough he was easily smiling along.
“Hi.”
Frank rubbed a hand over his face, rounding up all the stray sweat before he answered.
“Hey.”

Adrenaline propelled him forward, and suddenly a verbal greeting wasn’t enough anymore. Raising ever so slightly onto tiptoes, Frank threw his arms around Gerard, initiating a hug. This time Gerard was barely even surprised and it took but a split-second before he hugged back.

The second the embrace tightened, Gerard suddenly remembered how upset he was. Apparently physical contact was the key to unlocking his floodgates, and he closed his eyes, afraid that the growing moisture might escape.

Since when did telling someone you love them become acceptable grounds for an argument, anyway? Kaye was always telling him to wait, to just be patient, Gerard. The problem was he didn’t know what he was waiting for anymore. She was scared; he understood that. But he was just trying to make her feel safe. Gerard was well aware how inadequate a boyfriend he would be, but he was trying his fucking hardest just to make her see that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was almost done. He was so close to just giving up.

Frank attempted to draw back, mildly embarrassed at the vigour with which he’d thrown himself into the embrace, but he found himself glued to the spot by Gerard’s arms. The older boy’s chin rested on Frank’s shoulder, and all he could do was outwardly give an awkward chuckle and a roll of the eyes whilst surreptitiously clutching Gerard to him even tighter.

“Hey, what’s up?” Frank asked, once Gerard had finally let go.

Gerard’s eyes widened, as his body took the inopportune moment to remind him of his discomfort. I’m covered in my own come, how are you? He tried to work out if there was a way of checking it hadn’t seeped through his jeans without looking like he was touching himself. His only response to Frank’s question was a series of blinks.

“He had a fight with Kaye” answered Mikey, moving his hand in a cut-throat gesture to halt the topic from going further.
“Oh.” Frank scoured his brain for something appropriate to retort with without allowing himself to sound glad. He came up pretty blank. “Women, eh?”

Gerard barked out a short laugh before he had time to give his body approval to do so. Frank was ecstatic to have provoked a positive reaction and practically danced on the spot.

“Well tonight isn’t about talking girls, anyway. Tonight is about talking band.”
Both boys grinned at each other.
“Need another drink?” Frank asked. “Come on.”
“Hey, what about us?” called Mikey as they walked away.
Frank simply flipped him the bird without even turning back. He owed Gerard a fuck-tonne of drinks from last time, anyway.

When they were settled with fresh bottles Frank decided to just quickly revisit the girl problem again. Gerard had blatantly needed to be held. There was no use pretending he didn’t want to know why, even if just to gather ammunition against Kaye.
“...G, you know you can tell me. What happened with Kaye? Did she sleep with someone else?”

Frank looked suitably ashamed after asking, so Gerard had no doubt that he hadn’t meant it to sound that harsh. The only harsh thing about it was that the only answer how could give to that question is ‘I don’t know’.
“I wanna talk about the band.”

Frank let it go, figuring he shouldn’t have asked in the first place. He nodded, happy with this direction of conversation.
“So do I. It’s been like 3 weeks. Fill me in.”

Gerard took a deep breath, ready to expel the information. He told Frank firstly how he and Otter had rented out a room to play in for a couple of days, wiping out practically all the money they had left until next payday. But their time there had been productive. Gerard had borrowed an electric guitar from one of Mikey’s friends and spent the day tweaking his original guitar parts to fit the sound of the instrument it had been intended for, whilst Matt figured out the beat. Since then he’d had began working on some more lyrics and had been belting his little heart out at home to get used to the sound of his own voice. Gerard began to explain that the bespectacled stranger they had been hanging out with all evening was hopefully going to take over on the guitar front and get involved full-time.

“I just called him up, asked him if he was happy, and when he said no, I sort of said ‘no, neither are we. Just come try this with us’ you know?”
Frank nodded, sipping on his drink and watching Gerard talk animatedly, using his hands almost as props.
“But anyway, he used to be in this band called The Rodneys who used to play all around here, and he’s so amazing. I can’t believe he’s even agreed to a practise session with us.”

Frank held up a hand to signal Gerard to halt.
“Hold up. The Rodneys? Surely that’s not even real.”

The bridge of Gerard’s nose crinkled.
“Of course it’s real, what are you talking about?”

Frank gave him a measured look.
“Hello. My name is Frank. Nice to meet you. If I’m not playing shows, I’m attending shows. I would have definitely remembered such a ridiculous band name.”
“I think you’re missing the point.”
“And I think you’re in denial about the dumb name.”
“Shut the fuck up” Gerard laughed, punching Frank in the arm. “The point is he’s the fucking best guitar player I’ve ever seen.”

Frank looked down at his lap, knowing that he shouldn’t be reacting, but finding it altogether too difficult to pretend he wasn’t. It took Gerard a second to realise what he’d said.

“Wait. I mean. No. I mean besides you. You play in completely different ways, you can’t even be compared. You know I meant besides you, right? You know what I think about you, don’t you, Frankie?”

Frank looked up from his bottle to catch the truthfulness in Gerard’s eyes. The guy was drunk, but once again his eyes still swam with honesty. Yeah, he knew. His mind cast back to Gerard’s basement, legs crossed on the floor, handling a guitar that was not his own, playing music that was not his own. He remembered what Gerard had said that first time. Perfect.
“Yeah” he smiled, looking away quickly before he began to blush.

Gerard still felt bad, it seemed, and leant forward slightly, softening his voice.
“I wish it could be you. You know that too, right?”

Gerard could hardly stand the innocence of Frank’s eyes as he looked up hopefully through his lashes. He didn’t speak, but just stared for a while. He seemed to be searching for the answer in Gerard’s eyes, and eventually found it, nodded softly. Gerard turned round on his barstool, leaning backwards and resting his back against Frank’s chest.

Somehow Frank wasn’t even surprised, and adjusted his posture slightly so as not to tip them both over. Neither said anything for a couple of minutes, or even changed their facial expression. Frank was first to break the silence.

“We have a practise space. We paid 6 months upfront. We have it for 6 hours every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday.” He paused, waiting to see if Gerard would say anything. He continued when there was nothing. “We’re not using up all our time at the moment. We’re sort of in stasis while we’re waiting for the record to drop. Mostly we order take-out and piss around. ...You guys should come share.”

Frank felt Gerard’s breathing hitch against him, and amended his statement. He wasn’t giving Gerard room to decline.
“You guys are going to share with us.”

When Frank looked up, he realised Gerard’s breathing hadn’t hitched because he was excited, but because Kaye was standing in front of them, wearing a sheepish expression over her shift dress.
“Gerard...G, can we talk?”

Frank was surprised that Gerard had stayed slumped against him so far and fully expected him to move now. When that movement didn’t come, an imaginary air-punch ran through his head before he could stop it.
“No” Gerard sighed. “Not now. Band’s about to start. See you afterwards.”

Almost as if on cue, the lights dropped, and sure enough the band were walking on, striking their first notes. Frank was incredibly impressed by Gerard’s time judgement. Kaye didn’t even try to change his mind, simply spun and pushed her way into the crowd, heading directly for the mosh pit as far as he could see.

“Thank you.”

It was only because Gerard was pressed so close that Frank had even heard him above the music, as he hadn’t raised his voice. He didn’t reply, but simply placed a hand on Gerard’s hip, first two fingers tapping along to the beat.

Gerard couldn’t believe what Frank had just said. He wanted Gerard’s band to share the same practise space. He didn’t know if Pencey Prep would want any money towards the cost or not, but even if they did it would be at a vastly reduced price, considering the number of people who would be splitting it. Maybe he could learn all those things from Frank after all.

Kaye could wait until later. Gerard wasn’t moving right now, he was comfy as fuck. His stomach was flopping around like a fish out of water, but the feel of Frank’s fingers dancing rhythmically across his love handles was strangely soothing. It was almost enough to make him forget about his sticky underwear yanking on his pubes every time he shifted his weight. Almost.