Way Down

-Gerard-
He shifted his feet around a little, still unable to look me in the eyes, whilst stammering on his words. "Gerard, w-why - how - why would he say that?"
I stared in disbelief.
"Gerard?!"
This caught my attention, and he noticed. He shuffled to the sofa, and hesitantly sat down beside me. Slowly, I looked up to him. "Frank, why do you think he said that?"
I - I - Okay, please don't be mad, but-"
"Don't be mad?! Frank, I don't think you understand, my brother has been kidnapped, and is suddenly claiming that you were the one that took him!"
"Gerard, please, calm down, just hear me out..."
I watched him as he tried to form words with his trembling mouth.
"Go on."
He looked down. "We were tracking the bass line for one of the songs in the studios, and we heard some guys talking in the corridor outside about some 'Mike James' plan, but by the time they actually began to speak clearly, one of the sound techs began tuning the guitars, and we didn't hear anything else from them."
I fidgeted my hands. Did I believe him? I sort of had to, it was more or less instinct these days to trust Frank. I knew for certain that I wanted to believe him, but... "What did the guys say?"
Throwing his hands up into the air frustratedly, he let out a huge sigh. "It was weeks ago, I can't remember! I dunno, just a bunch of crap about some McCratten guy's basement not being 'suitable', something about being soundproof." He looked back up at me, eyebrow raised, somewhat realising that he could be onto something. "I mean, at the time I assumed that they wanted to practice in McCratten's basement, but they'd annoy the neighbours or something, but I could never quite get a grip on what the Mike James thing meant. It sounded too common to be a band name."
"Well of course it's too common to be a band name, it's my brother's fucking name!" Micheal James Way, it fit perfectly.
But who was talking about him?
"Did you hear any more names?"
He shook his head.
"McCratten." I stood up and walked in circles around the living room, repeatedly muttering the name over and over again, hoping for a breakthrough. Key word - hoping.

-

"Fuck!"
I landed back on the sofa with a bump, subsequently hitting my forehead with my hand.
We'd gotten nowhere, and were more confused - and stressed - than ever. Ray had been back half an hour, and excused himself from mine and Frank's session of mind-searching so he could clear away my paint stuff. I had to admit, he knew his stuff when it came to art; he knew that if I left my paints out for too long, they'd dry up and I'd have to fork out on buying more.
"Frank, I can't - I-I'm so lost!"
Frank grabbed my left hand swiftly and clung onto it, rubbing slow, soothing circles into my palm. As much as it calmed me down, I still couldn't get the image out of my head of Mikey being alone in a dark basement belonging to some creepy pervert.
"Gee, we'll sort this out, I promise."
"How? We have like, one lead that might not even work out as anything! There could be thousands of Mike James' in this country alone!"
"It's just the way they said everything... so familiar, so relevant... Look, Gerard, I'm going to get you a drink of water, you look like you need it."
He stalked off into the kitchen, and I let out a deep huff and clenched my fists against the cheap fabric of the sofa. "Stupid McCratten!" I shouted, rather childishly, I admit.
I distantly heard Frank's confused protesting, and only bothered to look up when Ray had pushed him all the way out of the kitchen.
He stopped only inches out of the door and looked across at me, shock seeming to cover his face.
"Gerard, what the hell's Bert done now?"
Me and Frank exchanged glances. What was he nattering on about this time?
"Huh?"
"Uh, you said 'Stupid McCracken'?"
I slowly raised myself off the sofa, staring wide-eyed between Ray and Frank.
"Ray!" I yelled, jumping forwards and throwing myself at him, embracing him in one of the largest hugs I've ever given. I even gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in the excitement, but, uh, it's not the same as Frank... "Ray, you absolute genius!"
He stood, oblivious, shocked. Eventually he came round and asked what the heck was going on.
"Frank'll explain, bye!" I laughed as I ran out of the apartment, scarf hung over my shoulder. I grabbed Bob's jacket sleeve as he passed me on the way to my place and dragged him out of the building and down the street with me.
Thankfully he was too curious to object.