Attention's Like a Fire

There they were again, grinding on stage, groping each other, kissing each other.

It wasn’t fucking fair. I was the one who loved Frank, who needed him. Yet almost every concert they would go up and dry-fuck each other on stage.

It was my goddamn brother with him, too! I always respected my brother for never fucking around with people, but he did it to me all the time. Even off stage, they would mess around. They would flirt and giggle with each other, while I would just sit around, trying to ignore them.

Did they not notice how I looked at him? With so much love I felt like it was leaking out of my pores. How could they not notice? It was so obvious! Ray and Bob were able to tell, they would always look knowingly at me whenever they saw Frank and Gerard messing around.

But they couldn’t have noticed. I knew that they weren’t the type to screw with people’s feelings, and if they knew that what they were doing was fucking someone up, they would stop right away, without question.

The music faded, the fans screamed, and the lights dimmed. We all made our way offstage, tired from belting out lyrics, pounding drums, and thrashing around with guitars.

“Hey Mikey, you feeling alright?”

I turned around and saw Frank looking concernedly at me. I forced a weak grin; I didn’t want his pretty face to be frowning and have him worrying over me.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why are you asking?”

He looked slightly relieved to hear me say I was okay, “Well, you messed up a bit during Prison and I’m Not Okay, and you looked pretty distracted the entire time.”

I hadn’t realized it, but during the two times they had went up to each other I had messed up, probably from me shaking in anger. Also, I had been staring off into space, thinking about how I wished it were me kissing Frank.

“I-I did? I probably was just thinking about stupid crap, it doesn’t matter…”

Frank looked unsure, “Alright, man…if you say so. But next time, watch out, I’m gonna find out what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Did Frank just call me pretty?

I brushed it off as him being a dork again, but I kept on thinking of the way he had a flirty expression on his face.

He said ‘pretty head’ that means he thinks my head is pretty, so it didn’t mean anything.

But by head he could mean my face…goddamn it, Frank screws around with me even if he’s not trying to!

Frank has a pretty head, and pretty face and pretty eyes. Fuck, everything is pretty about the bastard. It almost makes you ashamed, to have to hang out with someone so perfect.

I still wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Because being near him is always the best part of my day. I always feel so calm. Even my anxiety goes away; I could probably play in front of millions of people if he stayed next to me the entire time.

You should ask him to do that. You could have him all to yourself, if only once, and if only onstage.

I wanted that. I wanted to have him all to myself, at least once. One concert of absolute perfection.