Get off the Ledge and Drop the Knife

*Frank's POV*
My whole week was basically boring. I stayed home and played guitar while Gerard went to work. I considered getting a job, but decided against it. Work is no fun. Mikey even came upstairs and invited me to watch porn with him. I kindly declined his invitation. It would be pretty awkward to watch porn with my boyfriend's brother. But here Gerard and I am, at our club, on our night, waiting for tonight's band to come on.

"Should we get some drinks before it starts?" I offered him.

"No. I like being sober around you." He stated, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," I thought about it for a few seconds. "Why?"

"I want to remember every second. Every detail. I want to be here, not in the land of drunk," he explained.

I smiled, "Romantic."

The lights went dark and I knew it was about to begin. While I knew Gerard was next to me, I grabbed his hand just to be able to feel his presence. The stage lights came on and out came four guys. The singer had familiar, messy, greay, black locks.

"My name is Bert McCracken and we are The fucking Used!" the singer spoke into the mic.

"Oh, look it's Bert!" I exclaimed a bit over enthusiastically earning a glare from both Bert and Gerard.

"You know, sometimes, you make friends. And these friends make you think they care. Then they screw you over. Or maybe you become romantically involved with these friends. You have the time of your lives. But then they leave. They find someone better. But maybe without you, they wouldn't have had the guts, or the desire. So they used you. And that's who we are. The Used," Bert spoke slowly and calmly into the mic. Gerard froze at his words, forcing me to give him a worried look. He didn't even see me though. His eyes were glued to Bert. "So, here you are. Thinking they're just as miserable as you," Bert continued, "But they waltz into your life again, waving around their new life, while you're still going home to the same fucking routine. Take some pills, drink some beer, snort some coke. And you thought they got the best of you. They didn't. This one's called 'The Best of Me'." The whole place was in complete silence, shocked at Bert's rant. Mixed emotions floated into the air, hanging above our head, weaving between our bodies, giving us a taste of each emotion until there was none. Until we were empty. And a sense of relief washed over the room. Gerard was immune though. He stood rigid and tense. Obviously deeply effected by Bert's words. And just as we were all hollowed out, the band began to play and Bert started singing.
"I could forget your name. I could forget your face forever. I could forget the smile you always faked. The one you though I bought but never. I could forget your lies. I could forget the hype for always. I could forget how deperately you tried. Flattery will get you nowhere. I could forget how had tried to get the best of me. You'll never forget that you never got me! Real nice to know that you care to leave me soaking wet. I'm so surprised you would dare. You make me wanna forget. I won't forget your pride. I won't forget your wandering eyes. I won't forget about the way you made me feel. Talked to me so condescending. I could forget how you had tried to get the best of me. You'll never forget that you never got me! YOU! NEVER! GOT! ME!" Bert screamed and threw himself all over the place. He gave his performance everything he had. He was passionate. He was in pain. And I know who caused it. The only tense person in the room. The one who had been flooded of color. The one who looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

Gerard.