Butane and Bullets

It wasn’t a bad turnout all in all. There were about 100 people packed into the loop lounge discounting the members of the bands playing that night; pretty much half-full. It wasn’t their best turn-out, but it certainly wasn’t their worst. Frank finished tuning his guitar for the first song and then set it down with care before hopping off the stage. All it took was a hop; it was less of a stage and more of a small platform.

He’d noticed the Way brothers arrive - accompanied by A. N. Other - when they had just started setting up. He had been almost certain of Mikey’s attendance. The specs balancing precariously on the tip of his nose were very deceiving; the kid was quite the partier when you let him loose. Gerard on the other hand, he had not been so sure about. The guy was a hermit at the best of times, let alone a week after he witnessed a fucking building go down in flames. But here he was, laughing easily with his companions and sipping on a beer. Impressed, Frank made his way over to the bar where the three men were perched.

“Hey” he smiled as the brothers turned.
“Yo, Frankie!” exclaimed Mikey, immediately shooting for a high-five. Frank obliged and turned his eyes to the older brother.
“Hey. Wasn’t sure you’d be up to coming out.”

He was astonished to notice that although Gerard’s hair remained unkempt and messy, it had definitely been washed and no longer hung in front of his face in greasy strands.
“Well. Surprise” he grinned. “So what’s the set-up here anyway? You get free drinks while you play?”

Frank almost let loose a belly laugh, but compromised with a small giggle as he plucked Gerard’s beer from his unsuspecting hand and took a gulp.

“You kidding? Our fee just about covers enough for one round for the whole band. This place doesn’t rake in enough to give us freebies. And we ain’t big-time enough to have riders yet, unfortunately.” Eyes wide and smiling, he took another gulp of beer before handing the glass back, half depleted. “One day, though. One day.”

Gerard held the glass up, and eyed the remaining contents in amusement.
“You want one?”
“Don’t mess with my heart.”

The two brothers laughed, and Gerard shook his head.
“I’m not. Promise. Do you want one?” he reiterated.

Gerard almost jumped out of his skin when one arm heavily leant on one of his shoulders, the owner’s other arm slumped on Frank. Gerard was on the receiving end of a mildly apologetic toothy grin before the offending face turned that grin onto the other boy he had a hold of.
“What’s this, Frankie? You found a nice strapping young man to supply us with a drink?”

Incredibly entertained by the irritation on Frank’s face as he tried to communicate silently to his band-mate, Gerard felt a tad braver than usual, and confident that his wallet was deep enough, answered the question himself.

“He has, actually.”
“Ace.” The guy let go of Frank entirely now, and shifted his body so that Gerard was the only person in his line of sight. “I’m Hambone.” They swiftly shook hands.
“I’m Gerard.”
“It’s an absolute pleasure, Gerard. But I’ve got to go finish setting up. Cheers for the drink.”

As quickly as the guy had appeared, he was gone again. As Gerard repeatedly blinked, and attempted to process what had just happened, Frank splayed his fingers so that he could peek out whilst still covering his face in embarrassment. Mikey was laughing.

“I am so sorry about that” whined Frank, elongating the pause between each word.
Gerard remained silent for another moment or two, before simply asking:
“Hambone?”
“Don’t even ask. He’s one of my oldest friends; you’ll have to excuse him.” Frank extended an arm and laid his palm on Gerard’s forearm. “You don’t – you don’t actually have to buy these drinks.”
“No, I’m happy to. How many dudes in the band?”
“What?” Every feature on Frank’s face gaped in surprise. “I’m not telling you that. You are not buying drinks for our whole band; are you insane!?”
“Maybe” Gerard smiled easily, before bypassing Frank entirely and looking past him to his brother. “Mikey, how many guys are there in Pencey?”

The blonde brother spoke before Frank had time to spin and clamp his hand over that thin mouth.
“5 including Frankie here. I’ll take another if you’re offering, too.”

As Gerard nodded, Frank folded his arms against his chest in protest.
“Have mine, Mikes. I’m not drinking it.”
“Oh, Frank, don’t be so melodramatic” laughed Gerard as he extracted his wallet from a tight pocket. “Do you want a choice in beer or not?”

Resigning himself, Frank’s tattooed arms dropped to his sides and he mumbled his request, eliciting a wide grin from Gerard as he ordered drinks for the band and top-ups for everyone else. He turned to his right and stood back a little, gesturing Otter into Frank’s line of sight.
“I forgot; you guys haven’t met. This is my friend with the weird nickname. Frank, this is Otter. And Otter-“
“This is Frank from Pencey. I gathered, babe. You alright, bud?” Matt asked, leaning across Gerard to shake Frank’s hand briskly.
“Nice to meet you.”

Gerard paid for the hefty order of drinks and clasped a glass in each palm, lifting his eyes to Frank.
“A little help, drama queen?”

Scooping up the rest of the drinks, Frank slowly led Gerard through the crowd, weaving throughout the small groups of people.
“G, you really didn’t have to. I mean... I know you quit your job. And you need to save all your money for your band when you get it together.”
“Here you go, guys.”

Ignoring Frank, Gerard smiled, handing glasses over to bewildered band members who thanked him nervously. Hambone shot him a charming wink as Frank assured the guys it was okay to take the drinks. Conversation continued as they made their way back to the others.

“I still have a job, Frank. You don’t need to worry so much.” He said that, but glowed inwardly as he relished in the worry that one boy felt for the other. “I’m not gonna be bankrupt if I buy you guys a drink, I promise. I have another job apart from Cartoon Network, they’ve just given me a bit of time off after last week. Thanks for the concern though.”

He gave the shorter boy’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.
“Oh. I didn’t know that. Where do you work then?”
“I’m with Mikey at Barnes and Noble. They got a temp in to cover me for a week or so until I’m ready to come back. Mikes had to practically beg them to take me on after I left art school, but since I’ve been there they’ve been great to me.”
“That makes me feel a bit better at least.”
“You’re right though. When I get back there I am gonna need to start saving up for band stuff...”

Frank’s eyes flashed golden pride that made Gerard’s stomach ripple with a not altogether unpleasant emotion.
“Yeah? You’re doing it?”
“Otter. He’s gonna be the drummer.”

Evaluating where they were in proximity to the bar, Gerard felt it best to halt that line of conversation.
“Frank, I still haven’t told Mikey.”
“Gotcha; loud and clear.” He pretended to zip his lips closed as his eyes radiated warmth.

Leaning over to the bar, Frank picked up the beer Gerard had bought for him and began to chug it, much to the amusement and applause of Mikey Way. When the glass was drained, he slammed it back down onto the countertop, and leapt onto tiptoes, kissing Gerard on the cheek on complete impulse.
“Gracias. Gotta go set up; we’re on in five.”

Gerard spun on his heels, hand to his cheek; unaware that his mouth was hanging open in shock, and watched Frank jog back towards the stage, leaping straight onto it without breaking his stride.

Frank took the briefest of seconds to survey Gerard's face as he picked up his guitar. The smirk spread quickly as he watched Gerard goggle back at him with a palm attached to his face. Pride ignited an adrenaline-fuelled fire in his stomach that fluttered at the sight. This was just the surge of excitement he could utilise onstage, and exchanging a frenzied nod with Hambone, realised it was definitely game on tonight.

The band shuffled into the wing and hurriedly wished each other good luck as the lights went down and the crowd began to cheer in anticipation. Impatiently fingering the strings he was to use first, Frank wondered whether Gerard was one of the voices making up the collective sound of the audience or whether that hand was still pressed over the skin freshly pecked by his lips in stunned silence.

His belly continued to flutter until the stage lights came to life, at which point nervous anticipation took over. There were always more butterflies when he had friends in the audience. Although Frank was acquainted with most people who frequented the NJ rock clubs by now, it felt different with people he could also socialise with on the outside. Now that he was aware of the presence of the Way brothers – the eldest in particular - he could feel the heavy thud of the blood in his veins and the desperation to impress clawing at his lungs.

Striding out amongst the sound of the crowd provided him with the same rush as always. It never lessened; never dulled.

Taking his rightful place in front of the centre microphone he was delighted to find it was at the correct height. Often when he disappeared during set-up like he had earlier, he would go onstage to find that some joker - usually Shaun - had set the mic up too high as a jab at Frank's height. There had been occasions when he hadn't had time to readjust it before Tim hit the beat, leaving him with no option but to play the first song on tiptoes. Relieved that wasn't the case that evening, he let his eyelids fall comfortably shut as the drumbeat commenced, tattooed fingers at the ready. After the three-count he set his arms to work as he addressed the crowd during the intro of Don Quixote.
"How are you doing out there tonight, loopy loungers? We are Pencey Prep, and we want you to dance for us. We've only got six songs for you tonight, so let's make 'em count!"

Gerard vaguely recognised the song and took the lead from his two companions, bobbing his head along to the beat. He smiled involuntarily as he recognised Frank withdraw from reality, disappearing into a world in his head that his music provided the gateway to. Gerard drank as he mused.

He's 100% comfortable up there.

In fact, comfort wasn't far enough. Frank was at home; it was obvious that the stage was where he belonged.

Could I ever be comfortable up there like that with all those eyes on me?

It was an issue Gerard had never considered. He was desperate to try out this band thing for real. Gerard had been in a couple of small-time bands with his brother during his late teens, but that's all they had been; just a bit of fun to pass the time. He wasn't going to his grave without ever really trying to make music. He wasn't even sure if he could - all they had so far was a half-formed song. He wanted desperately to assess whether he had some flare for this secret desire - but the reason behind it was to share whatever they created via the means of live shows. If they could create something solid, something real, and one person in the crowd took home something positive from the experience then that void in Gerard's artistic being could go some way towards healing. He felt cheated by the comic book industry; tainted by his experience of creating a cartoon. If he could just get a group of like-minded guys together and play at least one show he would feel like he'd done far more for the people in that small audience than he would have done for the entirety of his potential Breakfast Monkey viewers.

But did Gerard really have it in him to be a frontman? His heart was in the right place, and according to Otter he had a half-decent voice, so perhaps he had good intentions and some element of talent on his side. However, he knew you needed more than just talent to be a frontman; what's the point in having the tools if you don't know how to use them properly?

I mean, just look at Frank he reasoned with himself. He was rocking both the role of guitarist and vocalist simultaneously and he was killing it. His eyes were screwed shut as he focused on his vocal performance whilst his arm slashed away at the strings of his instrument with perfect precision despite not looking at where he was aiming his strums. That wasn't just talent; it was an interaction between natural ability, well developed showmanship and vast experience of playing shows.

No matter what pointers Frank may have been able to offer, Gerard wasn't sure any advice would deteriorate the self-consciousness he would undoubtedly be crippled with as his chubby frame was scrutinised by so many eyes. Not only is Frank a compact bundle of talent... he’s generally good to look at. Gerard had never been a fan of shallow phrases such as “eye candy”, but he supposed that if you didn’t know the small man personally it was certainly apt. One of his fingers dusted over the patch on his cheek that Frank had kissed as he continued to think.

Frank met Gerard's gaze briefly before Pencey launched into P.S Don't Write - clearly a crowd favourite, as the mass of bodies began to move and other voices joined Franks in a sing-a-long. Both men had smiled shyly across the room in that short second, Gerard hurriedly removing his hand from his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Mikey miming the words happily, foot merrily tapping away.

Gerard shook his head and drank deeply, draining the glass. He was getting ahead of himself. It was far too early to be worrying about his unease in front of a crowd. He needed more band members before they could even record a song, let alone play a show.

Otter had the drums covered, and they'd decided that Gerard could competently handle simple bass lines, but that still left them without a guitar player - arguably the most important component of a rock band. Watching Frank churn out note after perfect note without even having to try, Gerard couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy in his chest. Pencey had it all together. They had a full band, a great sound, a full length album, a record label... They also had Frank.

No longer paying attention to the performance bar keeping his eyes glued to the pint-sized front man, Gerard wracked his brain for other musicians he was friendly with. Between him and Otter - whose eyes were also glued to the stage, half-empty glass in his fist - they had quite a few guys to contact. However, although the guitarists from his former 'bands' had been decent enough, playing had only been a hobby to them. Gerard was on a mission to find someone who wanted to play as badly as he did.

He held up a single finger to signal for another drink as he continued to mentally mull over his options. He turned back to look at the stage and found that Frank had once again been looking in his direction. He blushed. Frank was obviously trying to check that Gerard was still paying attention. He'd been invited here after all, and nestled between Mikey and Otter - who were both clearly digging the show - he must have stuck out like a sore thumb. What was appropriate in this situation? A wave? A thumbs-up? Would Frank be able to see a nod from the stage? He opted for raising his pint glass when that was slid his way, and received a wide grin and swift point from Frank before he continued that section of the song.

The glass in question was tipped immediately against Gerard's thin lips and he sucked the amber liquid down as quickly as his throat would allow. He had thought of someone he could call, as long as the guy in question wasn't involved in another band. It was someone he saw play a long time ago - someone brilliant. However, he didn't have the contact details for this guy, nor had he seen him in a few months.

Mikey had.

No matter how inappropriate the timing - when he was supposed to be watching Pencey Prep in the support slot - he was buzzing off consuming two beers in such a short space of time that his lips were loose enough to tell his brother what he'd been doing for the past week. It was time to tell Mikey - right that second, before he lost the liquid courage. He took a couple of deep breaths, earning a questioning look from Otter, to which he replied with a nod.

He didn't have time to work out whether Matt had decoded his cryptic bob of the head because he brought his hand down and gripped his brother's shoulder. Mikey turned, eyebrow raised. Gerard smiled.
"Mikes." He had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the band. "I'm starting a band."

Mikey laughed.
"Oh yeah? Frankie inspired you, has he?"
"No! Well, I mean, yes, but... that's not what I meant. I've already started a band. I wrote a song."

Mikey looked as if he was about to reply, but someone else got there first.

“You’ll have to play it for me sometime.”

Gerard’s mouth fell open slightly, and his eyes widened. The voice didn’t belong to either Mikey or Otter. The voice was female, and came from behind him, ghosting over his neck and bringing him out in that shiver he hadn’t felt in far too long. She’d obviously had to shout to be heard over the music, but it wasn’t necessary. The sound of Pencey Prep was bouncing off every surface in the club, but Gerard would have still heard her if she’d whispered. Every one of his senses was finely tuned to pick up her signal, and elation spread through him like wildfire.

His stomach jumped when he spoke without turning. He was glued to the spot, hands fisted at his side, staring through his two friends rather than at their knowing grins.
“Maybe I will.”

She came into his line of sight then, blue eyes as enticing as ever, commanding his hopeful gaze immediately. She smiled, and his heart stopped as he fought back the word vomit of sweet nothings – sweet everythings - that threatened to eject from his throat.

When her lips closed over his cheek and her subtle floral scent sent him dizzy, he sighed, forgetting that Frank’s mouth had previously been in the same spot.