Disenchanted

My hands found my pockets as I walked back to the bus in darkness, in silence, and embracing the small moment of solitude I’d managed to find amongst the chaos of a tour. In my head, my mistakes were running wild, forging horrible ideas and facts that perhaps weren’t really facts at all but my own opinions, which I’d have rather not known in my moment of peace. You kissed him. I may have brought my face a little too close to his at some point during the show. You can still smell his aftershave, and feel the softness of his hair between your fingers. Sometimes, I drove myself crazy with my thoughts.

I reached the bus after taking the long way around the back of the backstage tents and slumped into the corner of the couch, which was informally my spot to sit and think and annoy our driver with my questions of how far we had to go before we were there, wherever ‘there’ was that day. My mind took me to dark places in those first few minutes of sitting, staring across at the fridge where the letter magnets had been arranged, probably by Mikey, to spell out ‘disenchanted’. He loved that song, a song we’d only really just begun to write, where the lyrics were far from perfect and still too personal for my liking. I wondered if anyone really got the meaning I placed behind those words. I wondered a lot of things as I sat, contemplating on going to bed and hoping to wake in a better mood.

But I couldn’t. It was too late. Those first tears fell from my unblinking eyes, and I knew I was lost in my head again. There was no escape from there without the right chemicals, and God only knows how much trouble I’d be in if I was found with that on tour again. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in Ray’s eyes or the sadness that veiled Mikey’s face as they discovered I was addicted to something so nasty it was almost offensive. Why didn’t you tell us you felt that way? Why didn’t you let us in before you turned to coke? I don’t fucking know.

I dried my tears with frustrated swipes of my jacket sleeve and didn’t even notice as my feet took me to the fridge and found me the last beer hidden on the bottom shelf as I’d left it. I knew I was already pretty drunk; I’d had a few backstage, a few more onstage, and walking back to the bus was difficult when your feet didn’t know how to go straight. This thought slipped from my mind as I uncapped the bottle and drank myself calm once more.

My method might have worked, had I not been interrupted halfway through my beer. Frank walked onto the bus with his guitar and jacket in one hand, the other still holding the doorknob as he watched me through careful eyes. I could see him trying to pick apart my situation until I challenged his stare, and he looked away. He sat down beside me after a while, his eyes glancing from the now empty bottle on the coffee table and then across to me, my eyes back on him. I didn’t like to be judged, but sometimes I knew I was asking for it. Again, his eyes left mine, and I felt a sadness building from the pit of my stomach. Everyone always looked away. It was no one’s place to tell me how to live, which I’d made pretty clear in the past, but I was starting to wish it was. I couldn’t do this on my own anymore. I couldn’t be alone anymore.

“Gerard?” My stare left the ceiling and landed on Frank, who was still looking at his shoes. By his tone, I figured he must have asked me a question, and prompted to hear it again.

“I said, are you using the shower at all? Because I’m dying to get in there.”

“Why would I be sitting here if I wanted to shower?” I saw as he rolled his eyes.

“You usually come back before everyone else to shower first. Don’t get snappy with me just because you’re drunk,” he said, his tone as harsh as mine had been. He got up, removing his shirt as he walked down the corridor that divided our bedding area. I watched as he gathered his clothes and attempted to slip off his shoes to no avail, eventually sitting down to untie the laces. He glanced at me once, then twice, and after that I knew I was staring. A part of me didn’t care, really, but that part was probably the intoxicated part. The rational side of me would regret it in the morning, and see the need to find a way of explaining things. I wasn’t checking you out, I was just drunk. That excuse always seemed to work for a straight man like myself, but sometimes I had to wonder about the truth behind it. Again he’d asked me a question, which I’d failed to actually hear.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He slipped into the bathroom but left the door open as most of us did; with there being no window in there, it could get pretty steamy. I sat and waited for him to come back out, being fully aware that I was beginning to sober up and would want someone to talk to once I was half way there. I felt as my hands began to shake, and took to walking around to distract myself from what felt like my insanity. From the bathroom, I heard a faint humming, and I immediately recognised the tune.

Ray had been mad lately on getting some recording done for a few demos that would lead to a new album, and so I’d been forced to share my half-thought-out lyrics and bits of melodies with everyone. I’d shown something to Frank just yesterday on the drive down to the festival, and found myself smiling, just a little, as it appeared he’d taken to the tune.

“A kiss and I will surrender; the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead,” I sang softly as I passed by the bathroom once more, only aware of what had come out of my mouth after the damage had been done. I rushed back to the couch and tried not to panic as Frank’s humming had stopped so suddenly at hearing my voice, and told myself that he would think nothing of our onstage shenanigans earlier. He’d consented with a nod, and he’d certainly kissed me back. If he had a problem with it, it was half his own fault. We had a mutual understanding that we were promoting equality within sexuality, but I guess I had my own purposes, too. Being lonely did that to you. You’d find yourself in a bar talking to people you had no interest in, just to have a conversation. You’d kiss someone you might not otherwise look twice at. Last week, I’d fucked a woman I didn’t even want to see again. This wasn’t who I was. This wasn’t who I wanted to be. Loneliness was killing me.

I found my thoughts entering bad places once again as I sat and waited for Frank to emerge from the bathroom. When I’d shown him the lyrics to that song, all he’d said was that they were “interesting”. What the hell did that even mean? I found myself pissed off over it all over again but this time, it was going to come out. It had to come out. Frank finally came out of the bathroom and walked over to me, when I stood to get right in his face. I liked being taller than someone when I was giving them a serve. I felt 10 feet taller than I really was right then after catching the confused look that swept across his face.

“That song I showed you the other day…” I started, my anger rising, “It really took a lot to show someone and you said nothing.”

“I said it was nice.”

“You said it was interesting!”

“And interesting can’t be nice?” I could feel my tears falling again, but refused to acknowledge them. He knew I’d been having a hard time and just like everyone else, he’d said nothing about it.

“I’m so fucking lonely, Frank. I’ve never been this suici – ”

“I don’t know what to say, Gerard,” he whispered, cutting me off. A part of me knew he didn’t want to hear me finish. No one wanted to hear that. No one. “I don’t know what to do.” To that, I had no words. Was it really that hard to ask someone if they were okay every now and then? And would it have killed him to have given me a hug as I stood there, only barely, crying my eyes out like a broken man? He sighed, but I didn’t get that hug. “Go shower, Gerard. You’re a mess.” I would do exactly that, but the door would be closed. God forbid I was walked in on.

My mind was racing as I stripped and turned the water on, but didn’t get in. My eyes wandered over my body in the mirror, stopping in places and refusing to stop in others. With my past, you’d think someone would have been worried about keeping all the medications so readily available to any idiot that might want to ignore the suggested dosage on, say, some of Mikey’s painkillers for migraines he’d been having trouble with lately. I opened the cabinet in front of me and took them from their place, but the rattle of the bottle sent a disturbing vibration throughout my body as old memories of hospital rooms and disappointed faces filled my thoughts. I took the suggested dose, which was certainly something new for me, and finally hopped in the shower. The small stumble on my way in was just enough to remind me of the alcohol I’d consumed, but not enough to link that with the medication. By the time I got to washing myself, I could hardly stand.

My jelly legs got me out of the shower, where I reached for my towel and caught hold of it on the third try before wrapping it around my waist. Walking around like that was something I never, ever did, so I guess I should have expected Frank’s eyes to dart straight across to me. He walked up to me, noticing the way I was leaning heavily on the railing of my bunk bed, and the look in his eye told me he immediately knew something was wrong. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, the one that only came whilst heavily medicated. I knew I was so, but I also knew I was in no immediate danger. This had all happened far too many times before, usually alone, and the high I had would disappear after a good night’s sleep.

“What’s happened to you?” he asked, smiling a little as I pulled him into a hug.

“I love you guys. You know that, right? I… I fucking love you guys.”

“I know, Gerard.” He seemed shocked as I leaned in a little closer, but didn’t back away as I pressed my lips against the bare of his neck. My hands travelled up his back, almost against my own will and feeling of common sense, which is when he wiggled away a little. “What are you doing?” he laughed, trying to be as cavalier as he knew how.

“I’m really lonely, Frank,” I said with a smile, knowing how odd I must have sounded. “I just want to feel someone else, you know? I just want to feel.” He was still looking straight at me, and appeared to somewhat understand as he allowed me to embrace him once again. I felt like a monster as I stood there hugging him, my lips leaving a trail up his neck and across his jawline, when he licked his lips and swallowed the lump in his throat. I knew he was straight, if it had to be defined like that, and I was sure he knew I was, too. This wasn’t about that, though. This was companionship. This was that overwhelming need for someone to understand. I watched him carefully as he took a step back and his eyes examined me carefully, looking to find that I understood what this was. He seemed happy with his observations as he approached me once more and planted his lips straight against mine, pulling my face closer to his and allowing his tongue to only very gently run along my bottom lip. We’d both deny we were kissing back. We’d both deny those tiny, almost inaudible moans that escaped our lips as Frank slipped and our middles were pressed together as we fell back on my bunk.

A few moments like that passed and I found myself crying again, collapsing in a mess to lay beside Frank and stare up at the various sketches I had stuck on the roof of my bunk. Frank took to stroking the hair away from my eyes where it had fallen.

“Things will get better. You’ll see,” Frank whispered, and something in me had faith in his words. I felt his body leave mine as my eyelids finally closed, praying they’d open to a better day.