Gasoline.

I don't remember much from that morning, all I know is that I passed out on stage, and the last thing I saw was Frank's worried face in front of mine.

When I awoke, I was laid on my bed in the tour bus. I could see Frank sat on the end of my bed arguing with Mikey.
"He's useless! He'll never be able to drop the habit; he's dragging the band down with him!" Mikey yelled at Frank. They obviously thought I was still asleep.
"Shut up, Mikey. I thought maybe you, of all people, would have faith in your own fucking brother!" Frank yelled back.
It made it clear to me they where arguing about me.
From the other room I could hear Ray and Bob arguing over me too.
So all four members of the band were arguing about me.

Nice way to fuck it up, Gerard.

I tried to sit up, but my head was too heavy, so instead, I just moaned. Frank instantly spun around and managed not to fall off my bed as he moved closer to me. Mikey left the room and the argument between Ray and Bob got louder.
"Gee, open your eyes." Frank was pleading. I hadn't noticed my eyes had shut. Opening them I saw Frank was smiling brightly. Without another word, Frank helped me off my bed. Somehow he managed to hold my weight as he led me through the living room area of the tour bus, and out onto the grass out side.
"How are you feeling?" Frank asked with concern as we both sat down on the ground. I shrugged. I felt like shit and it was all my fault.
We sat in silence for hours, the night wind blowing in my face. I had sobered up a bit, so I turned to Frank, to tell him what I should have told him along time ago.

"Frankie, I need help."
He smiled. I knew that's what he was waiting for me to admit.