Butane and Bullets

“Are you sure we can’t stop at Dunkin’ Donuts?” Gerard groaned, dropping his head against the window of the car.
“Gerard, your brother is late for work as it is.” Donna scolded. “If you’d have been ready on time maybe that would have been an option.”
“He was too busy doing his hair” Mikey sniggered from the front seat.
Gerard imagined that most mothers in this scenario would stick up for her eldest son, rather than chipping in with “Makes a change” as his did.

He wished he and Mikey were the kind of siblings who could sort their problems out with their fists, however they’d never once been violent to one another – save for the unfortunate lightsaber meets tooth incident – so he settled for scowling in the direction of the passenger side wing mirror.

There was too much effort to be wasted in arguing his case, especially when he could smell the fresh jasmine scent of his shampoo against his cheek. He was far too nervous to argue. He was about to go into a practise studio with a real band; with real musicians.

Pencey were going to be getting real big any day now. The second that record hit, Gerard was fully prepared to never see Frank again. The prospect made his insides go all gloopy, but that band deserved the accolades that lay in their future. Otter had drummed for more bands than Gerard could keep track of, and Ray Toro was a genius, no matter how modest he wanted to play it. What did Gerard have under his musical belt? Ray Gun fucking Jones? He was essentially throwing himself to the lions, and he was shit-scared of getting torn apart by their experienced canines.

He slid a look over to his battered guitar next to him on the back seat, fighting the urge to vomit. Perhaps he could bribe Frank into teaching Toro the Skylines chords so that he didn’t have to do it himself. Besides the fact that he had no money to use for bribery but the small change that he saved for caffeine emergencies, and nothing to offer as trade that would be of use to anyone.
“Is this it, honey?” asked Donna, pausing at the side of the road.

Gerard looked up, momentarily worried that he’d forgotten the name of the place Frank had sent via email, but all aspersions were discarded when he noticed that Ray had already arrived, and was kicking stones around the parking lot.
“Yeah” he sighed. Don’t sound too excited, Gerard, Jesus fuck.

Opening the door, he climbed out, reaching back in for the guitar.
“Good luck, bro” called Mikey. He sounded sincere, and Gerard wished he could retract the scowl from earlier. He smiled weakly.
“Thanks. Have a good day at work. Bye, Mum.”

As the car pulled away, Gerard crossed the road, guitar neck gripped in one hand, and waved to Ray as he approached.
“Hey, man, thanks for coming.”
“Told you I would” grinned Ray, going for an awkward handshake.

Gerard laid the guitar down carefully, and the two settled into easy conversation as they waited for the others. It wasn’t long before Otter rounded the corner, baseball cap on backwards, twirling a drumstick in one hand. He looked the part and Gerard couldn’t help beaming.

Matt and Ray got reacquainted, and then they waited for the band to arrive.
“I must admit, I’m a little sceptical” hedged Ray. “That Frank guy seemed a little bit weird.”

Gerard’s breathing went a little erratic. This band thing wasn’t solid yet; he was still jumpy at every tiny hitch that threatened to collapse it all.
“He spent 10 minutes last night taking the piss out of my old band name. I mean, 10 whole minutes. How is that even possible?”

Gerard plonked himself down on the gravel and looked up sheepishly, unsure how to get Ray back onside.
“What was the band name?” Matt asked casually.
“The Rodneys” Gerard mumbled, frowning and picking at a piece of lint resting on the knee of his dark jeans.

Matt snorted.
“I think I’m gonna like this Frank guy.”

Gerard looked up, scoping out Ray’s reaction. If he felt like everyone was taking the piss, there was no way he’d stick around to become bandmates. Gerard would hardly be able to stand it if Ray walked away now before they’d even had a practise together. To his incredible relief, a short “ha” bubbled out of Ray’s throat and he fiddled with his glasses.

“Yeah, okay, okay. Give me a break, I didn’t pick it!”
Matt turned his gaze on Gerard’s grateful eyes.
“Hey, G. What are you calling this one?”

Gerard blinked up at the two, blank look plastered on his face. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d have to name this, this thing they were doing. This thing which didn’t even officially have a third member yet. Surely it was too early to be naming it, if it could all too soon be taken away. That’s what his mum had taught him that time he and Mikey had found an injured dove in the yard while playing ‘Hoth’. Little 10 year old Gerard had gushed out the list of possible names.
“Emily. James? Maybe Evelyn. I can’t choose, Mum.”

Donna had replied, softly but sternly that Gerard wasn’t allowed to name the beautiful bird he had rescued from the snow. He’d whined but his mother had held her ground. After a brief conversation, in which Donna had to repeatedly remind Gerard that he couldn’t keep it, she insisted that he wasn’t allowed to name her. She wouldn’t be there long, and if he named her, he would miss her when she got better and left.

After pouting, insisting that yes, he did want her to get better, he relented and left the dove nameless. He’d brought her fresh berries every hour and treasured the time they had. Sure enough he only cried for a day or two once she’d flown off, and within a week had instead turned his hand to drawing her from memory, fussing over the details of her beak rather than sobbing that he missed her.

Was this the same method he should adopt now? Maybe he should just make the most of the time he had doing this band thing, and only name it once he was sure it was sticking around awhile.
“I, uhh...well, it’s early days yet” he smiled timidly, eyes fixed firmly to the floor.
“Well, give it some thought, man” Ray replied, craning his neck. “Hey, is that them?”

Sure enough the van was then pulling into the lot, music blasting so loud Gerard could feel it vibrate against his skin through the ground. He stood up, nerves crashing back into his chest. Five dudes piled out of the van, waving over to the other occupants of the building foreground. Hambone went around to the rear and opened up the back of the van. After a lot of clattering, Frank emerged, hopping out, holding both his guitar and a stand.

“Jesus, Iero, can’t you get out using the door like a normal person?” moaned Tim, concerned that most of the clattering sounds were born of a Frank-meets-drum kit collision.
Jogging over, Frank grinned at the three of them.
“Hi, guys. Come with me and I’ll show you the room.”

There was a man reading a guitar magazine at what looked like an oversized high school desk, who glanced up when the doors opened.
“33a, Hambone?” he asked, obviously recognising Frank as a regular. Frank barely had to nod in agreement before the unorthodox receptionist was writing something down – presumably checking them in – and lifting up the desk lid to retrieve a set of keys.

Gerard was pretty impressed. The building was a total TARDIS. There was only one floor, but Frank led them through what felt like a mile of corridor, and past far more doors than Gerard would have guessed existed from looking at the building’s exterior. Inserting the key into 33a, Frank nudged the door open with his knee.

“Come on in” he told them, going straight to one corner to put his guitar stand down, placing his instrument in its loving grip.
He was almost at the door again before Gerard could nervously interrupt.
“Hey, uhh, do you need any help?”
Frank blinked, like he hadn’t even considered that they would want to offer their assistance.
“Umm, sure. I need you to come with me to the desk actually, G. You guys make yourselves comfortable” he said to the others. “There’s a big old janitor’s closet down the hall. Grab a few more chairs so we have enough.”

Gerard tried to memorise the way back to the reception desk where Frank informed the man that Gerard would now also be using the room reserved under Hambone’s name. The dude nodded, scrutinising Gerard’s face as if committing it to memory.

“Thank you... for this” Gerard said, as they made their way back to the van.

Frank turned and really looked at Gerard for the first time since arriving. His eyes were nervous but fresh, as if he’d got a good night’s sleep in preparation to focus. His skin was clear, too; hair clean, possibly with added product. Frank could practically taste Gerard’s enthusiasm and he was definitely into it. It was like Frank was watching Gerard, I don’t know, blossom or something. If there was a way he could keep encouraging that growth he would exhaust every avenue.
“It’s honestly my pleasure” he smiled.

“Gerard, over here” called Shaun as soon as they got closer to the van. Frank stood back and watched as Gerard stepped forward to help unload and carry the keyboard. Shaun was smiling, making jokes, and Frank was really happy to see that Gerard was making friends so easily. Shaun was a good guy; loyal, dependable. Suggesting he play keyboard for Pencey was probably one of the best ideas Frank had ever had. It looked like he and Gerard were getting on like a house on fire (and seriously, what was even with that saying? A burning house doesn’t seem very friendly to me.)

“Did you get my email?”
Gerard looked up from focusing on his foot placement and nodded, still smiling, wide and genuine.
“Yeah, thanks. It was sweet of you.” Gerard started shuffling backwards, grip tight on his end of the keyboard. “It’s really good of you guys to share your space with us. I really appreciate it.”
“Everyone needs to start somewhere, you know? I remember when that was us. It wasn’t that long ago either” Shaun chuckled.

Frank watched the two make their way into the building, chatting easily, laughing as the keyboard almost toppled. It made him smile, to see Gerard talking so easily with someone. He knew it was difficult; Gerard was probably half sick with nerves already by now.

When Frank helped Tim carry the rest of the drum kit inside he shut the door behind him and surveyed the room’s occupants. Nail and Hambone were hanging out of the window having a smoke. Matt and Tim were setting up the kit together, Shaun hovering close by. Ray was keeping to himself, feet curled up beneath him as he checked that his guitar was in tune. Frank would have laid down money that the guitar was in pristine condition. Ray Toro didn’t look like the sort of guy who let his guitar get more than a fraction out of tune.

Gerard sat alone on the beaten up sofa, his own guitar perched half-heartedly in his lap. His eyes flitted between Ray Toro and where his own slender fingers tickled the head of his guitar as if he felt he should be doing the same but didn’t quite know where to start. Ray was in his own world, spending a couple of minutes just him and his instrument. Frank could dig that. He knew how it felt, especially as Ray was effectively about to audition. He probably needed to like, get in the zone or whatever, not present enough to notice Gerard’s silent plea via puppy-dog-eye language. Frank smirked and decided to put the poor guy out of his misery.

"Hey, scoot up."
Gerard looked up, startled, but complied, shifting himself up against the arm of the sofa. Frank held out his hand, gesturing for the guitar.
"Gerard, do you actually know what you're doing?"

Gerard's cheeks coloured, and he handed it over silently, shoulders hunched in humiliation. Great. The embarrassment was already beginning and no one had played a note of actual music yet.
"You just need to know what you're listening for" Frank said, kindly. "You'll pick it up soon enough."

Gerard watched Frank drag his thumb swiftly across all six strings, comfortable focus coating his features. For a split second Gerard wished Frank was an animal, just so he could visibly see his ears prick up while he acoustically analysed the notes. Frank strummed a second time before slowing his movements and plucking each string individually. Gerard stared blankly, unable to tell whether it needed tuning or not. Frank returned to the 4th string – Gerard gave up trying to work out what note it represented – and plucked a further two times, sliding a smile up to Gerard that was probably supposed to communicate “this one”. His other hand reached up to tighten the appropriate peg as he continued to pluck, listening attentively for the changes. He finished with one more strum, and finding it satisfactory, passed it back to Gerard with a smile. Gerard took a deep breath.

“Frank, I was wondering if you-“
“No, G, you’ll be fine. Practise while we’re rehearsing and then you can borrow my electric once we’re done. You’ll be great.”

Finishing off with a smile and a tight squeeze of Gerard’s shoulder, Frank pushed off the sofa and made his way over to his bandmates. Although he consciously tried to keep his tone friendly, Frank was well aware that his response had come off a little clipped. Gerard could perceive it as harsh as he liked, but Frank was playing parent here – it was for Gerard’s own good. If he really wanted this band thing to work out he needed to be able to perform in front of a group of friends, or else he’d never survive playing even the smallest club. Frank wasn’t about to sit back and watch that happen without doing anything to help.

“What’s up first?” asked Hambone.
Frank ducked his head through the strap of his guitar and assumed the position, tightening his mic stand. He looked around hopefully.
“Can we do ‘Attention Reader’?” Frank asked.
“Frankie, it doesn’t really fit with our sound. You know that” Neil explained patiently. “How about ‘Secret Goldfish’?”

Gerard watched as Frank nodded, eyelashes fluttering close to his cheek as he kept his eyes downcast. Shaun caught Gerard looking and shrugged, mouth tight at one side. The second the song kicked in though, Frank seemed to shake it off, giving it his all, the only way he knew how to do. Gerard sat back for a couple of songs, arms loosely folded, watching in awe, grinning whenever Frank threw a funny face in his direction.

By the time Pencey had hit a comfortable stride and were just starting on ‘Don Quixote’, Gerard curled his hand around the fretboard of his acoustic, and reasoned with himself that if he practised now he would probably be the only one to hear himself if he messed up. He took a deep breath and allowed Frank’s singing voice to fade into the background. He really had been practising, and remembered all of the chords but one. He lifted up to remove a scrap of paper from his back pocket to pick the missing one from his hasty doodles. He rolled his eyes at himself when he noticed that one finger had only slightly been out of place. He fingered them all in order once more from memory, and after mentally patting himself on the back for being correct, decided it was time to practise properly. Looking around the room once quickly, he saw that Ray was watching, shooting a happy thumbs up, and in the midst of singing, Frank aimed a wink in Gerard’s direction.

He began to practise quietly, still anxious for anyone to hear him mess up. He whispered the lyrics along to himself, now exceedingly confident in the memory of the words and vocal pattern. When Pencey came to a halt between songs, he did too, flattening his hand against the strings and trying desperately to make his pause look natural. He wasn’t fooling anyone, of course, but they were all too courteous to call him on it, for which he was imminently grateful.

When they restarted, Gerard was able to pick straight back up from where he’d left off, and got through to the end with only a couple of minor mistakes. All he asked for was the ability to gloss over such errors when he debuted the songs to Ray, rather than choking and fumbling with his fat fingers whilst apologising profusely.

His heart hadn’t stopped racing from the second he’d stepped out of the car, and it incredibly managed to pick up speed once Pencey decided to call a break. Gerard felt like all eyes were immediately on him, even though it wasn’t like that at all. Frank made a conscious effort to look nonchalant as he handed Gerard his guitar, dragging his amp behind him, and Gerard wasn’t sure whether to take that as comforting or not. He gripped the instrument tightly, suddenly afraid that he might somehow fucking break it or something.

After ridding himself of his guitar, Frank went straight to the water cooler in the corner, pointedly paying no mind to the bundle of nerves occupying the sofa. Shaun appeared at his side and bumped Frank’s hip companionably. He too reached for some water, and kept his voice low when he spoke.
“I can’t wait. He’s gonna be fine, Frank.” Frank pointedly looked ahead, knowing that there wasn’t even any point giving the faux-questioning look. Shaun bumped him again. “Quit it. He’s nervous enough for the two of you. It’s gonna be fine.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile into his cup as Shaun clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, He was right, of course. And if Gerard really got in a mess, he could always step in as a last resort.

Everyone seemed to be milling about doing their own thing – Frank getting a drink, Tim playing with his cell phone, Neil lighting up a smoke, Hambone leaving to piss. Gerard decided to take advantage of the slight bustle and cleared his throat in Ray’s direction.
“So, did you want to umm – I mean, I can show you what I’ve got so far?”

Ray nodded eagerly, and relocated, taking the seat next to Gerard on the sofa, his own guitar cradled lovingly in his arms. Otter left Tim with the drum kit and took the chair Ray had previously occupied, spinning it around and laying his arms on the backrest. Gerard’s hands had begun to shake, and his lungs went into overdrive, interrupting the steady flow of his speech.
“I, uhh” – he paused, insatiable need to swallow – “I’m not great, okay? Don’t have high expectations.”

Ray grinned, full lips pulling into his cheeks.
“Well of course you’re not. That’s why you need me.”
Gerard couldn’t help but bust out a grin too, showing off his teeth and pushing back a fraction of his self-consciousness. Of course Ray was right. If Gerard could fucking shred, there would be no need for this meeting at all.

He lifted his eyes up to the pair respectively and gave a short nod, indicating that he was about to start. Otter gave a thumbs up, whilst Ray cradled his chin between his index finger and thumb, offering up his full attention.

“Do you want to run through the whole thing for me once? And then we can work on the specifics afterwards.”
It made Gerard’s heart jump in his chest that Ray made it sound like he was already in, and decided that the time for thinking was done. He took a deep breath and put his fingers to the strings, doing his best to forget that Pencey Prep were even in the room.

Frank fought not to turn around when he heard the unmistakable sound of his guitar start to sing. It was like a mother inherently being able to pick out her child from a mass of wailing newborns. He wanted to watch; see Gerard’s fingers work over his instrument. But he also didn’t want to put him off. Frank stared at the wall, ears honing in. He remembered the way the song sounded, and was pleased to find that both his and Gerard’s instincts had been pretty spot-on. It sounded so much better on an electric.

Frank listened to the opening notes – dimly aware of his stomach doing jumping jacks – and sighed when Gerard’s voice kicked in, relieved to hear him sing with as much emotion and boldness as he had that first time in the basement. The presence of seven other people in the room had not dampened his passion, and he belted it out, voice raw and perfect. Gerard wasn’t stalling. He was pushing through, both voice and music working together in mostly harmony.

He’s been practising Frank thought with a jolt. He’s really serious about this. He couldn’t hold it back any longer, and turned so that he could watch. He found he wasn’t the only one. Matt looked over the top of the chair in what Frank perceived as pride; Ray watched attentively, seemingly hooked, eyes wide and a little disbelieving. Frank hoped it was in a good way. Shaun and Hambone stood together, small smiles tugging at their lips, eyes transfixed. He beamed at the reaction Gerard was receiving and let his eyes fall in the same place the rest of the audience were looking.

Gerard had tucked his hair behind his ears so that it didn’t fall over his eyes and create even more of a handicap on his guitar inaptitude. A small rumple had formed between his eyebrows in concentration and his mouth still gaped wide as he sang, pushing every sliver of effort he possessed through the gap in his lips. His voice had improved since last time too; although he was no Mariah Carey, his voice didn’t shake as much as before, holding tune slightly better, although improvements could obviously be made. Considering it was his second run-through in front of other people, Frank was blown away. The first time he’d tried to play for his Mum he basically mumbled his way through, afraid to belt it out. Gerard had seemingly skipped that phase altogether, becoming increasingly more comfortable with his voice. It in turn made him easier to listen to, like he was inviting you in rather than pushing you away. Frank didn’t even try and fight the smile from his lips, thinking himself lucky to have been able to help in some way; to watch this come together. If Ray turned away after this, Frank would be hard-pushed not to knock him the fuck out.

Gerard only paused through error a couple of times, though neither as jarring as those he’d made the first time he’d played for Frank. As he sang out the final line, letting the last note drop off, he nervously lifted his eyes to find all occupants of the room staring in his direction.

It fell silent, sort of like the room should burst into a riotous round of applause akin to a cheesy movie. Instead, he was met with quiet smiles and a series of blinks. Gerard, of course, was fearful that the silence would be broken when someone simply couldn’t hold their laughter back anymore. Ray coughed and rescued him, rearranging his own guitar into position in his lap.
“So, was this the first one?”
“Oh. Uhh, yeah.”

And that was that. Frank smiled from the corner, flipping off Shaun when he shot over an overenthusiastic grin and thumbs up. The rest of Pencey decided to take a walk before their second run-through, leaving Frank eavesdropping in the corner whilst he continued to work on the snippet of lyrics from the previous week.

Gerard showed Ray the chords he had chosen so far, half-scatting along haphazardly just to give the feel of vocals on top, whilst Matt sat and listened, mentally mapping the beat he could lay down beneath it. At one point, in reference to the bridge section before the final double chorus, Ray suggested a change. He worked on it for a couple of minutes, eventually coming out with a more delicate layer that Frank wouldn’t have thought up in his wildest dreams. It fit the tone of the song perfectly, and Frank had to admit that Gerard had chosen a great guitar player to approach for help.

They ran through that part a couple of times, letting Ray get accustomed to the new section, Gerard adjusting his pitch slightly. It sounded great, and Frank couldn’t suppress his grin, sitting in the corner doodling, concentration on the other three occupants rather than the piece of paper right in front of him.

Ray and Otter took to working together then, firming up the rhythm and running through without the vocal melody. It all seemed to be coming together smoothly, and Frank sort of startled when he noticed a pair of scuffed sneakers nudging at his knee. He climbed to his feet where Gerard was gingerly holding out the guitar.
“Thank you. I think we, uhh, I think Ray’s got it down.”

Frank cast a glance over to the bespectacled musician standing in front of the drum kit, concentration plain on his face. He looked back to Gerard and found his expression hopeful, as if he was looking for Frank’s approval or permission. He smiled in response.
“Yeah, I think he does.” He took the guitar back and set it into the nearby stand. “It’s sounding great, G. That part he added sounded ace. You made the right choice.”

Gerard flinched, as if Frank had tucked a tuft of malice between his words. It really wasn’t the case. Ray was doing an amazing job already, and seemed just as into this as everyone else. He also seemed extremely determined and methodical; just the sort of bandmate Gerard would need to keep him on track.
“I want you to win, okay? Don’t give up on this.”

Gerard seemed to have to work at smoothing out the crease between his brows, but he managed it, loosening up just enough to give Frank a small smile before nodding and gesturing towards the drum kit, making his way back over there wordlessly. Frank chuckled to himself a little as he watched Gerard struggle with adjusting the microphone height before he settled back down and lit up a smoke, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t watching anymore. Just as the trio began their first run through with guitar, drum and vocals all together, the doors opened and the rest of Frank’s band filed in.

Gerard faltered slightly, eyes like saucers, letting his voice fall off a little. They seemed to notice that their entrance had disrupted the flow a little and clapped along in time, smiles wide on their faces. Hambone pulled a party popper that he must have just bought out of his pocket and shot it at Gerard, who grinned around his lyrics and bent to pick up the streamers, placing them on top of his head. Gerard allowed his voice to come back to normal volume, brutally sounding out the chorus, face contorted in emotion. Shaun took a seat on the floor next to Frank.
“We’re taking them on tour one day, right?”

Frank simply laughed and continued to stare ahead, watching raptly, hoping against all hope that Gerard would make sure it got to that point.