Something I Could Hold Onto
I came back to haunt you!
His eyes scanned the room urgently, hopes of punctuality slipping rapidly through his fingers.
Frank had spent the past half hour tearing the dingy hotel room apart; the mattress was off-centered on its frame, dresser drawers were left open and bare. The severity of the situation clouded the clarity of his thoughts as his hands roamed the duvet once more.
After a day of blurred monotony, Halloween had finally come. Tonight, Frank would see The Smiths. Tonight, he would sing along to every word. Tonight, he would jump and scream and sweat in a crush of bodies, and love every minute of it.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, he would feel alive. And no one could take that from him.
All that remained was gathering his ticket and cigarettes, the latter of which was placed securely in his pocket. He lifted his eyes once again to the peeling yellow wallpaper, hoping for inspiration to strike him. The dirty floral offered him nothing, however, but a bitter reminder of his loneliness. A shiver of pain shot through his spine, yet not one of physical discomfort.
No, Frank. Don't do this now.
Pushing away any shadows of hurt, he continued on his quest. Almost like an omen the ticket appeared in front of him, resting casually against the brown pillowcase. He grabbed it in a haste, excitement coloring his blood and adrenaline filling his lungs.
... His cell phone read "7:32" in florescent orange letters, obscured by smoke and the rush of energy pounding behind his eyes. The lights were still glaring down at the crowd, illuminating each individual body. The small room was filled past its suggested capacity, and more than once Frank found himself uncomfortably close to a stranger. He didn't mind, however, as he was well aware of pit politics. Even if he had been naive of these unspoken rules, he lacked the confidence to even dream of the touches being a symbol of lust; it wasn't possible for someone to find him appealing in that sort of way.
Especially not Gerard...
Before he could continue with his morbid thoughts, the lights faded to a dim glow. The mass of people began to move in sequence, jumping and thrashing in an attempt to express the growing excitement. All of the arena erupted in a wave of cheers, chanting, and shouts; Frank listened intently to each of them.
One in particular caught his attention.
"Frankie!"
He turned slowly, hindered by the compactness before shifting his eyes for the source. He let his gaze rest on several faces, a girl with blue hair, a man whose pierced tongue darted over his lips, a boy with yellow eyes. Finally, he found the voice's owner. Hazel orbs pierced his mind, and a warm toothy smile pierced his heart.
"Gerard?!"
Frank had spent the past half hour tearing the dingy hotel room apart; the mattress was off-centered on its frame, dresser drawers were left open and bare. The severity of the situation clouded the clarity of his thoughts as his hands roamed the duvet once more.
After a day of blurred monotony, Halloween had finally come. Tonight, Frank would see The Smiths. Tonight, he would sing along to every word. Tonight, he would jump and scream and sweat in a crush of bodies, and love every minute of it.
Tonight, for the first time in a long time, he would feel alive. And no one could take that from him.
All that remained was gathering his ticket and cigarettes, the latter of which was placed securely in his pocket. He lifted his eyes once again to the peeling yellow wallpaper, hoping for inspiration to strike him. The dirty floral offered him nothing, however, but a bitter reminder of his loneliness. A shiver of pain shot through his spine, yet not one of physical discomfort.
No, Frank. Don't do this now.
Pushing away any shadows of hurt, he continued on his quest. Almost like an omen the ticket appeared in front of him, resting casually against the brown pillowcase. He grabbed it in a haste, excitement coloring his blood and adrenaline filling his lungs.
... His cell phone read "7:32" in florescent orange letters, obscured by smoke and the rush of energy pounding behind his eyes. The lights were still glaring down at the crowd, illuminating each individual body. The small room was filled past its suggested capacity, and more than once Frank found himself uncomfortably close to a stranger. He didn't mind, however, as he was well aware of pit politics. Even if he had been naive of these unspoken rules, he lacked the confidence to even dream of the touches being a symbol of lust; it wasn't possible for someone to find him appealing in that sort of way.
Especially not Gerard...
Before he could continue with his morbid thoughts, the lights faded to a dim glow. The mass of people began to move in sequence, jumping and thrashing in an attempt to express the growing excitement. All of the arena erupted in a wave of cheers, chanting, and shouts; Frank listened intently to each of them.
One in particular caught his attention.
"Frankie!"
He turned slowly, hindered by the compactness before shifting his eyes for the source. He let his gaze rest on several faces, a girl with blue hair, a man whose pierced tongue darted over his lips, a boy with yellow eyes. Finally, he found the voice's owner. Hazel orbs pierced his mind, and a warm toothy smile pierced his heart.
"Gerard?!"
♠ ♠ ♠
Title is from "You Can't Be Missed if You Never Go Away" by Cobra Starship :3Sorry for the length/wait :]] I tried to fix this chapter up a lot, but I'm still not entirely happy with it :[
Happy Easter tomorrow! I'll try to update again soon :3