Butane and Bullets

Frank stuffed the discarded envelope into a wastebasket and folded the ten dollar note into his wallet before throwing an arm around Shaun’s neck.
“Aww, thank you, man. You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t be stupid” Shaun mumbled into his neck. “If I can’t give my friend a present on his birthday then my life is pretty worthless.”

Frank was touched. Every member of Pencey had fronted at least ten dollars each – Hambone pitched twenty. He knew just how broke every one of them was, and yet they still couldn’t let his birthday pass without a gift, however small. He’d actually had quite an impressive haul, considering he’d expected most people were here for the free entry rather than to actually celebrate with him.

Besides, unless they came up to him, Frank had no idea whether he knew the majority of people meandering in masks or not. It was almost cliché, but as far as Frank was concerned Halloween meant costume party, no questions asked. The years hadn’t dampened his excitement for the general season.

As a child his father would take him and a couple of friends trick or treating while his mother finished preparing the pumpkin soup and “blood” jello. As childhood became teens he was then permitted a small group over for bobbing for apples and spooky stories, and now he went out with friends in an attempt to find somewhere that would serve him alcohol.

Unfortunately this hadn’t been quite successful on the alcohol front. Alex Saavedra had been quite accommodating and even forceful that Frank held his party at Eyeball, but wouldn’t go so far as to let him buy drinks. He couldn’t wait until this time next year, where he would be free to get drunk off his own back. Especially as he hoped to be touring the US by then. There’s no point in being on the road with your buddies if you can’t drink.

Money was the easiest present option at Frank’s age, and far more practical than strange trinkets that would no doubt sit somewhere collecting dust, but Mikey Way was not a fan of giving money as a gift, claiming it was lazy and he was obviously the better friend for being able to pick out an awesome present by actually giving it some thought. And it certainly was awesome, Frank had to give him that. Mikey had bought a replacement of Frank’s favourite Black Flag shirt. His had grown worn and thin, holes growing at each armpit and he’d fought with his Mum for ages over keeping it. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the thought that he could now dispose of the old shirt guiltlessly, and appreciated that it must have taken Mikey a good number of hours out of his life to find it to purchase in the first place.

He stowed all of his physical gifts in the back office – keeping a mental inventory, just in case – and wandered back around to the front room, scanning for Alex. Happy to find him nowhere in sight Frank practically leapt over to the buffet table. A bowl of red punch laid in the middle, a hand-shaped iceberg bobbing up and down in the middle. Sneaking looks from side to side he ladled some into a plastic cup and downed it as fast as he could. It wasn’t overly alcoholic, but it tasted fruity and sugary and was most certainly better than nothing until the party grew wilder and he could sucker people into buying him beer when Alex wasn’t looking. Frank was 99% sure that he wouldn’t complain if he saw a drink in Frank’s hand, but for the sake of his business he’d kick off if he saw the exchange happen in front of him.

The DJ booth was hooked up to all of Frank’s favourite bands – a few of which were on the label and so equalled extra publicity – and people were already beginning to dance, even when their moves didn’t fit the fast-paced punk beat.

He was enjoying himself already even though the party had only been going a couple of hours or so. It was nice to see people having fun, and interesting to look over the variety of different costumes. He was just as happy to see the elaborate garments that would have required hours of preparation as he was to see people slinking around in their day clothes with a rubber mask slapped over their face. Frank hadn’t put a phenomenal amount of effort in himself this year, simply opting for a one-piece skeleton suit that he’d already spotted a couple of other guests adorning.

Mikey’s was a particularly clever demonstration of costume laziness. He was loping around in jeans and a Joy Division shirt – nothing out of the ordinary but for the “Nudist on strike” sign that he had hung around his neck. Frank had snorted and congratulated him once again on being the most inventive bone idle motherfucker he had ever known whilst wondering how the other Way was going to rock up – indeed if he turned up at all.

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

It was Kaye that he spotted first. Frank was already half-gone so he didn’t have the presence of mind to feel weird about stumbling over to her and calling her name like they were best buddies. She was tottering around in heels and a baby pink satin cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh with a black sash around her middle. As she span around Frank had to do a double take. Used tissues were balled up both in her fists and the front of her sash and her eyes seemed to be bleeding with smeared make-up.

“Whoa whoa Kaye, you okay?” he cried, hand closing over the corsage around her wrist as he strained to call into her ear. “What’s happened? Where’s G?”
She chuckled and looked to her companions in amusement – mostly male Frank noticed upon second glance.

“I guess my costume’s pretty convincing then, huh?” she laughed, itching at one eye lightly with a nail so as not to disturb the cosmetics that were caked there.
“What?”
“I’m a stood-up prom date, dipshit.”

“Oh.” Oh. He removed his hand from her wrist. “Yeah, it’s- it’s good.”
“I didn’t bring you a gift” she said, shrugging apologetically. “But you can have this instead, yeah?” she grinned, pushing her mostly-full beer bottle into his hand. “Cool party, Frank.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head as if to clear the drunken mist that had settled. “He’s here though?”
“No need to fret, pumpkin, he’s around.”
“Cool.”

It only occurred to him as he was walking away that he should have probably thanked her for coming. And for the beer bottle he wrapped his lips around as he scanned the room, nodding in greeting when people waved or beckoned him over.

He found Gerard huddled in a corner with a bottle of his own, bracketed either side by Shaun and Mikey. Frank’s face cracked into an unashamed grin as he grew nearer and he began to realise that he wholeheartedly considered Gerard as a friend now. He wasn’t just that kid in the new band Frank was helping out in the interest of the local scene, but Gerard was actually his friend, one who he missed in his absence.

Gerard had put in marginally more effort than his sibling; wearing old clothes that he had ripped and dotted with blood, splashing some over one side of his face. Frank had no idea what he was supposed to be but he was into it.
“Hey, look who it is!” cried Shaun, throwing an arm out for Frank to collapse into, smiling at the two brothers.

“Happy birthday, Frank” Gerard said with a timid smile. He’d managed to only just raise his voice to be heard above the music but the small smile was sincere. Suddenly his facial expression changed and Gerard drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Wait. You turned 20?”
Frank nodded, sucking the last from his bottle.
“Oh my god” Gerard cried, a little outraged. “I’ve been supplying you and you’re underage.”

The other three all burst into laughter, and Frank moved, reaching up on tiptoes to hook his arm around Gerard’s neck.
“And you’re gonna keep doing so, too!”
“What?”
“You get me a present?” Gerard shook his head, a little wide-eyed. “Then go buy me a beer.”

Gerard shook his head, a little dazed and wandered over to the bar. While he was gone Frank enthused to Mikey once more about how much he appreciated his present and the two of them made Shaun attempt to take a drink of punch with his vampire fangs in, cackling like hyenas when he predictably spilt the majority of it down his crisp white shirt. Frank shot Gerard a grateful grin when he returned with the drink, raising it as if in toast as Alex caught his eye across the room.

The evening passed pleasantly, with Frank feeling quite popular for once, especially once the offers to buy him drinks increased. Alex held an impromptu costume competition in which Mikey was awarded second place for being sneaky and Frank was dragged onto the makeshift dance floor multiple times by werewolves and Frankenstein’s monsters he didn’t recognise. He stuck pretty close to Gerard throughout, even as the older boy got progressively withdrawn and edgy.

At one point a group of girls collectively dressed as catwoman turned up who seemed to know who Frank was, even if this knowledge was not mutual. He assumed that they frequented Pencey shows and just sort of smiled tightly when they sang happy birthday to him. Hambone meandered over and elbowed him in the side, wiggling his eyebrows. The group had drawn a good majority of the male attention in the room but Frank made his excuses and narrowly escaped one of them grinding up against him. He ducked over to the buffet table and ran a hand through his hair, amused and a little overwhelmed.

He took a moment to eat a bit of the cake someone had procured for the occasion and watched his bandmates attempting to dance. It was a pretty hilarious sight. Looking around, his eyes landed on Gerard. He was on the opposite side of the room with his arms crossed, mouth set in a stern line before abruptly pushing off the wall and making his way for the exit. Frank followed. He waved dismissively at Mikey, who had begun to move from the embrace of one of the catwomen – I’ve got this.

He sped up his strides but was relieved to find Gerard still hovering outside the building as opposed to making an actual break for it. He looked agitated, running a hand over his face and looking down at his feet. Frank tucked his hands in his pockets.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“…So you never told me what you are.”
Gerard looked up, smiling a little.
“I don’t know, really. A victim of some kind?” he supposed, pulling at his bloodied torn sleeve. “Mikey’s was great, huh?” Gerard grinned.
“It was really something. …And also nothing” Frank laughed awkwardly.

There was silence for a beat as Gerard looked back down at the floor.
“You not trying your luck?” Gerard asked in reference to the group of girls in faux leather catsuits.
“Nah. I prefer the dark and brooding type.”

A small smile played around Gerard’s lips but he didn’t look back up. When he reached up to pinch the corner of his eyes Frank reached into his pocket, retrieving the baggie someone had slipped him as a present earlier on.
“You got any skins?”

Gerard looked up and a small smile flashed over his face before delving into his own. He passed two cigarette papers over wordlessly and tore a strip off his pack with his teeth, rolling it up. Gerard stood by with the roach while Frank constructed the blunt.

“So” Frank began as he started to sprinkle the weed. “What’s the matter?”
Gerard sighed, handing over the small tube when Frank beckoned with his other hand.
“They kept fucking staring at me.”

“It’s a costume party” Frank said as he held in his first inhale. He let it out, letting his eyes slip closed for a second as the first hit settled in his system. “Of course people will stare.”
“Not like that” Gerard said agitatedly, reaching for his turn. “Because of Kaye.”
Well what a fucking surprise Frank felt like saying.

“She was dancing with some guy earlier, right?” Gerard started. “I don’t care. I actually don’t give a shit, she can dance with who she wants.”
Frank kept his eyes on Gerard as they swapped again, and he seemed sincere.
“But everyone kept fucking looking at me. Pointing and whispering. Smirking like I was about to lose my shit.” Gerard took another toke and rubbed over his face, a little harder than before. “They wanted me to. They wanted me to lose it, and break down, and make a scene. People like that; fucking drama. It gets them off.”

Frank kept silent, for he knew it was true. Personal drama kicking off in public always drew a crowd, whether it was in the form of an overzealous argument between a couple or a fight breaking out. He had no doubt that several people in that room would have loved to see Gerard try to intimidate some dude over Kaye. Especially as they knew he’d probably fail.
“They’re vampires” Gerard said quietly, putting the smoke back between Frank’s lips. “Fucking vampires.”

Frank regarded him for a second through the haze. On impulse he flipped the joint around in his mouth and moved in, cupping Gerard’s cheeks and pulling his face down towards his own. Gerard’s hands shot up immediately to grip onto Frank’s wrists, eyes tightly shut, and he inhaled deeply when Frank puffed the smoke his way. They stood like that for a few minutes more, swapping the dwindling joint over and doing blowbacks until they’d burnt it down to the roach. Frank flicked it away and rolled his head around on his shoulders, pleased with the comfortable fuzzy feeling.

He slid a hand into Gerard’s hair, probably gripping at the roots a little tighter than he should have done.
“You’re better than them. You’re better.”
Gerard held Frank’s stare evenly for a moment before reluctantly nodding.
“Good” Frank said, letting his arm fall heavily back down to his side where his fingers snaked their way into Gerard’s hand. “Now come back inside. We need to tell Alex you’re starting a band.”