Butane and Bullets

When Mikey and Frank left the Way household to go and hang out like originally intended the first thing Gerard did was hop into the shower. Not only had Frank invited him and his brother out for the evening but he had now decided that he had another reason to leave the house, and therefore needed to look healthy enough to be seen in public. He scrubbed away at his 200 pound frame hastily, not daring to look down and survey the damage, instead paying more attention to massaging the grease from his hair. Mikey was right; it was definitely in need of another dye job. The bright red that had stained it all through art school had faded to a washed-out auburn and he was flashing a good deal of his natural colour at the roots. He didn't have the time to worry about that though, and besides, he didn't even have any spare dye lying around the place. The split tips of his hair just tickled his shoulders, and as he stepped out of the shower he parted it messily with his fingers.

Once dry, he slipped his thick legs into dark blue jeans and pulled on an iron maiden shirt. Deciding that he didn't need to keep it for best now that he'd quit Cartoon Network, he also shrugged into his suit jacket, and swiped up both his guitar and lyrics. Place to go; person to see. He jogged up the stairs and swung into the kitchen, finding that he wasn't alone.

"Afternoon, Gerard" chuckled Elena. "Can I make you some lunch, darling? You must be starving."
"I was just on my way out, actually" he told her, whilst immediately folding her into a one-armed hug, the other hand still curled around the neck of his guitar.

It wasn't unusual to find his grandmother lurking around the place. She didn't live there, but she owned a key and practically came and went as she pleased, so he wasn't at all surprised to see her. Of course she'd been sticking very close after the events of the previous week, and had appointed herself as Gerard's faithful guard dog against the hoards of visitors who had attempted to visit after finding out about his brush with tragedy.

She knew him better than almost anyone, and was all too aware that too many visitors would have driven him even further around the bend. Gerard was appreciative of that fact. No one argued with Elena, and thus she was the best person to take on that job on his behalf. She patted his back affectionately, and smiled as his hair tickled her nose, yet didn't brush it away.

"You should still eat, dear. You're a growing lad."
He laughed shortly.
"Yeah, well. I'm growing a little too much nowadays, hey, Grandma? You should really stop feeding my comfort-eating habit, you know."

He let go of her then, still smiling lightly as he stepped back.

"It's the only way a Grandmother knows."
"That's not true and you know it. You've been an angel this past week, stopping everyone flocking to pinch my chubby survivor's cheeks. Mum wouldn't have been strong enough to send them away. ...I'm assuming you've kept her and Dad off my back, too?"

Elena sighed.

"Your mother would have smothered you if I'd let her check on you as often as she wished. She loves you, Gerard. We all do. Some of us just don't understand when to give you some space" she chuckled.
"Like I said. You've been an angel."

They stood silent and smiling a moment.
"It's nice to see you with your guitar, Gerard. I won't keep you. Go run along."
"I'll see you later."

He kissed her on the cheek tenderly, and managed to put his hand on the door handle before he turned back on impulse.

"...Nanna?"

She hummed questioningly, eyes untroubled in the light of his apparent good mood.

"Has Frank called for me this week?"

"Frank." She spoke the name tentatively. "The boy with the knotty hair?"
"Dreadlocks, Nanna" he laughed. "The one who just left with Mikey."
"Oh goodness, yes! Seems like he's been here as much as I have. We'll have to have a chat with Michael if he's irritating you."

"What do you mean?" Gerard asked, attempting to ignore the knotting of his stomach and lessen the widening of his eyes in anticipation.

"Well!" she huffed. "He called round twice asking to see you specifically. After that it felt like he was here every day to play with Mikey. He even stayed for dinner one night. I suppose he was hoping you were going to eat with us. And this is without factoring in all the phone calls!" She shook her head, but not in an exasperated manner. "He simply wouldn't relent. He was very polite, mind you. He seems like quite a nice boy despite his incessant enquiries."

"...Frank was here every day?"

"More or less" she laughed lightly.

The smile crept onto his face before he was fully aware of it, and he only realised it was there because his Grandmother's mouth seemed to mimic his own. His cheeks flushed slightly before he could halt them, and was struck dumb in the face of his embarrassment.

"...Shall I not send him away next time, dear?" prompted Elena gently.

He coughed once, as if the blush could be shaken by clearing his throat. The smile remained.
"Umm... yeah. I mean, even if I'm still in bed, or you haven't seen me yet... just send him on down. I'll sure tell him where to go if I'm not up to it. ...Promise."

She simply nodded, and turned around to bustle about the kitchen and save him from any further embarrassment. He was grateful, and physically shook his head, unable to prevent his grin from expanding. This time he didn't turn when he opened the door; simply paused.

"Thanks."
"Have fun, sweetheart" she called just before he shut the door behind him.
She remained smiling long after Gerard had left the house.

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

He knocked on Otter's door.

Otter (christened Matt Pelissier) was Gerard's older friend; an experienced drummer who had done the rounds throughout many of NJ's well-known local bands. Just the guy for the job. He opened his door, shirtless and sleepy. He was immediately greeted by Gerard's toothy grin. Instead of chewing him out like he'd originally planned to do to whomever dared darken his doorway, Matt threw his arm around Gerard's shoulders and led him into the house. He seriously doubted that anyone could turn the guy away; especially when he flashed those gleaming gnashers.

"You alright, little man?"

Gerard was extremely conscious of how not little he was, but seeing as it was coming out of Matt's mouth, he wasn't particularly fazed. They'd been friends a good couple of years; Otter knew about Gerard's depression and everything in between.

"Sure thing, man. You only just up?"
"I'm gonna stop you before you start. You rarely even make it out of your crypt, so don't give me shit for having me a nice lie in" he smiled down at his friend.
"Wouldn't dream of it."

Leading Gerard over to the fridge, he unhooked his arm from the younger man long enough to swipe two cans from the fridge, and then he replaced his arm straight back and meandered over to the couch, where they sank into the cushions.

Gerard set his guitar against the side of the sofa and didn't think twice when Matt handed him a beer. He was absolutely in the mood for a drink, despite the time. He was 90% sure he was going to have to audition himself for the second time that day, and could do with a little extra courage, seeing as Frank had sapped it all. He didn't need quite the same amount of balls to play to Otter, thankfully. He popped the beer open.

"To what-" Matt began, leaning over to tap his can to Gerard's "-do I owe the phenomenal pleasure?"
"Oooh, that's a tough one." Gerard took a sip, appreciating the metallic tang. "I'm gonna go with...progression."
"Interesting choice. What sort of progression are we talking here, Way?"
"Progression of my life; a new direction. A lot's changed since last we spoke."
"Yeah, I've aged, for one. You ain't been around in forever, G, where you been?"

Gerard laughed then, and set his beer down, mouth pursing in an eager smile.
"Working on a kick-ass project."
"Too busy to come and see your old buddy, Matt? Oh I see how it is, man, I see how it is."
"Sorry, dude. Top secret stuff, you know? Couldn't let it taste daylight until the world was ready to handle it."
"Alright, alright. I'll bite." Otter placed his beer beside Gerard's and turned on the sofa, perching his chin in his hand as he smiled at his friend, intrigued. "Whatcha got, kid?"

Gerard bit that bullet, hard and with confidence.

"We're starting a band, Otter. You and me."

"Aww, no way" Matt grinned. "You've got in on the music scene? I'm positively psyched right now. Are we gonna sing songs about hungry monkeys?"

He may have been taking the piss, but he was genuinely excited by this revelation. It was the very nature of their friendship to have a bit of a laugh at the other's expense, which is why he couldn't help but turn it into a joke. However he promptly changed tact when he noticed a muscle in Gerard's cheek twitch, lessening the intensity of his smile and dulling the glow of his eyes. He cupped Gerard's elbow with his other hand, and adjusted his own smile to a softer level. Although they liked a bit of banter here and there, he was still aware that Gerard had severe emotional issues, so he had become incredibly mindful of when to back off.

"I'm kidding. I'm in."
"Fuck you." Gerard mumbled sourly. "You don't need to do that just to spare my feelings, Otter."
"Oh shut up. I'm not playing full-time with anyone right now, so why wouldn't I say yes?"
"Because you've never even heard me play before?"
"Look. G. You're a cool dude; if you tell me this project is kick-ass then I'm still gonna assume you're being modest."

Gerard cast his eyes back upwards then, letting go of the lint that he'd been rolling through his fingers in mild frustration.
"And anyway, I'm not so tired that I didn't notice that guitar you had in your grubby little hand."

The younger man couldn't help his smile from returning then, and reached for the battered acoustic. He'd been given the instrument for his 10th birthday, so it had done well to survive 14 years of lying beaten up in the corner of the basement. Mikey had played on it more than he had, most notably using it to try out for Frank's band when they were starting up. ...He hadn't made it.

Gerard attributed that to the guitar. Who the fuck wouldn't want Mikey? He made a mental note to invest in a new one ASAP, just in case it held some curse that would prevent his new project from getting off the ground.
"You gonna serenade me, baby?" teased Matt.
"Only if you want me to."

Otter pushed himself off the back cushion then, and settled into a cross-legged pose instead. He let all jokes fall to the wayside. His voice was encouraging and genuine when he spoke again.

"Absolutely. I wanna see what you've got cookin' inside that red head of yours."
"It's not so red nowadays..." Gerard trailed off, running his fingers through the still damp aforementioned hair. "Need to do something with it really."
"Well it can wait. You need to play me this song first. I take it that's what's going down; you've already got an idea?"
"Yeah. I played it to Frank this morning." He decided to elaborate in response to Matt's blank stare. "Frank from Pencey?"
"Oh, Pencey Prep? Yeah, I've caught them a couple of times. Decent band. What is he; the singer?"
"And guitarist. He plays real good actually; he helped me out this morning. He really liked it; the song. I mean, if you're not so hot on it I don't really mind as long as you're willing to work with me."
"Absolutely. I'm always up for starting a band up, G, you should know that."

"I do. That's why I came straight here." He grinned. Otter was smiling back, but didn't speak again, simply waiting patiently. He took a deep breath. "Okay. But you've gotta bare with me, Otter, 'cause I'm pretty shit. Frank had to take over guitar earlier because I was so bad."
"Didn't even know you guys were tight."

It took Gerard a second to formulate an answer to that one, running his digits lightly along the guitar strings as he remembered Frank's tattooed fingers dance both delicately and brutally over them. His actions whilst playing had somehow been both erratic and precise, meshing two elements that should naturally repel each other. It fascinated him. Frank fascinated him; how he'd seemed to have developed a natural interest in whether Gerard was alive or not.

It felt nice to realise he'd made a new friend. That hadn't happened in a while. ...It felt more than nice. His mouth lifted up at one corner involuntarily, and his eyes softened.

"Yeah... neither did I."

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

"I don't believe this. Otter... Matt. This is incredible."

Matt was standing in the doorway, simply watching his friend. He liked to think that it was more than mere coincidence that Gerard had turned up on this particular day. Absently scratching his chest he watched as Gerard's eyes bulged and he span slowly on the spot, appreciating every corner of the room.

He'd been so tired when Gerard had arrived because he hadn't gotten to bed until the early hours of the morning. He'd been finishing this room, the attic. He'd painted the walls a cool dark blue the previous week, and he'd spent the previous night decking it out in new furniture, and had transferred his drum kit up there along with a tonne of old recording equipment that he'd had in storage. After Gerard had played him an admittedly stilted rendition of his song, he couldn't resist bringing him up there.

"You've made a fucking recording studio."
"Don't get too excited, kid. The equipment's not great. ...In fact it's pretty shoddy."
"Better than anything I've got lying around! This is awesome, man, seriously."
"So, you up for doing some shitty recordings on my shitty equipment sometime next week?"

Gerard turned and smiled.
"...We need a guitarist, don't we?"

Matt folded his arms, and lifted his leg, leaning against the wall with his knee out. He tilted his head as he considered, pleased that the issue was being discussed without Gerard seeming upset.
"Well that's got a lot to do with what you wanna do with this. If this is just for fun and you just wanna make a few crappy recordings then we can just do it over and over until you nail the track. Not a problem."

Gerard paced as he mulled the idea over, arms folded as he simultaneously continued to scope out the room. However when his eyes fixated on the large window, his face fell carefully blank, and he padded towards the glass in silence. Otter looked between the boy and the window in confusion until he worked out what Gerard was so fascinated by. Kicking off the wall he also made his way over to the window, and stared out.

They stood in silence to begin with, as Otter waited for Gerard to continue the conversation. That answer never came, so he moved closer, and covered Gerard's shoulder with his arm, tipping him to rest against his side.

"I tried to call" he murmured, looking down at Gerard's mop of hair. "Mikey said you weren't to be disturbed. ...Granny's orders apparently."

Gerard coughed out a short humourless laugh, thinking again of Frank. He lifted his own arm to clutch onto his friend.
"Don't worry; you're not the only one who got turned away."

He didn't look at his friend as he spoke but remained staring out of the window as he had done so many times before. Pre-studio-makeover Matt's attic had essentially been another lounge where would invite friends to hang out, watch movies and get drunk. Gerard had often spent most of those evenings stood there, gazing out of this window, eyes twinkling with the glow of the city lights. Previously he had been unable to shift his gaze for the hope that the view gave him. The loft window provided a perfect portrait of New York; the city where Gerard had believed all of his dreams would come true.

Now he looked at what was once his favourite view and felt dead inside. The skyline was wrong. All wrong. If he didn't know any better, he'd have sworn that he could almost see the outline where the two buildings should still be. Inwardly he battled and scraped to prevent the memories from regurgitating all over Matt's freshly laid carpet.
"How are you coping?" asked Matt.

Gerard slowly shook his head wordlessly as if to halt that particular line of conversation. In response, Otter briefly laid his chin on Gerard's scalp and pulled him tighter, before withdrawing and giving the boy a little longer to adjust to the view.

Coughing lightly under his breath before he began, Gerard decided to pick up the conversation where he had left it.
"So... we need a guitarist."

Matt felt the grin tug at his mouth.
"You're serious then? ...What about your monkey and shit?"

That was his way of casually asking Gerard whether he was sure about giving up his career in art.
"That's just what it is, Otter. Shit. As much as I love that fucking monkey, he's not gonna help anyone out. And that's what I wanna do."

"Then we do need a guitarist. No offence, buddy, but you can't shred."
Gerard turned then, and grimaced at him. Otter flashed his best grin and elaborated.
"Your voice is ace though."

Gerard's eyebrow quirked. However he did so in simple query rather than scepticism.

"Legit, man. Don't get me wrong, you ain't no opera singer, but you've got a certain something, you know? And your lyrics kick all manner of ass."

The two simply smiled at each other for a beat. Gerard was ecstatic that he had friends who truly believed he could do something like this. That was two people now. He was 100% sure that his Grandma would have his back no matter what he did, and so would Mikey when Gerard plucked up the courage to tell him about it... eventually.