The Art Way

When Spencer woke up the next morning and left his room to head towards the bathroom he could hear Brendon singing from the kitchen:
“Cut the power off, give me cold cramped rooms
Disconnected phones and leaky roofs
Give it to me in large unpaid bills
This is how we, this is how we will
Spend the rest of our days
Forever and always, this is
This is how we live”
Spencer shuddered at the image of Brendon living in the conditions the song described, but he knew that it was exactly what would have happened if Ryan and him hadn't taken the guy in.
As he was brushing his teeth he could hear Ryan exiting his room and singing the last verse:
“We form another angry band
Brendon took all the pots and pans
And locked them in his room
Now what are we gonna do?”
He smiled, he could visualise Brendon pouting at this for a second until he would start to smile again. 'Yes', he thought, 'this arrangement is definitely better than the alternative.'

~*~*~

Even though he had gone to bed much later than Pete the previous night Patrick woke about an hour before Pete's alarm would normally blast Metallica through his phone's speakers.
Deciding that he wouldn't fall asleep again before he had to get up anyway he went to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. That's how it happened.
As he was midway to placing a glass on the table it slipped his grasp and shattered to a million pieces on the floor.
“Shit, er shoot!”, exclaimed Patrick, shaking his head when he realised that he was in his boyfriends kitchen and no members of the public were around to feel offended. Maybe he wasn't as awake as he had thought.
But now he needed a broom or a vacuum cleaner. Patrick knew where Pete's broom closet was located but funnily enough he had never needed anything from inside till that day.
So you can imagine his surprise when he found not only a broom and a vacuum cleaner in there but also *a bass*. That was indeed very strange because Pete had always told him that he didn't play any instruments.
Pete appeared behind Patrick, having been woken up by the noise of the breaking glass.
“Pete”, Patrick said, “why didn't you tell me you played? You always said you weren't a musician! I... you could've played on the album!”
“Patrick I... Actually I'm surprised that you didn't know or maybe you just haven't made the connection... I'm sorry that I didn't tell you but my reputation back in Chicago wasn't exactly the best...”
At the mention of his old home the pieces finally connected in Patrick's head. “You... Chicago? You're *the Pete Wentz*!”
“I thought you must have heard of me back then. I had expected you to make the connection when I first told you I was from Wilmette, but you didn't so I just... let it slide...”
“Heard of you? Are you kidding me? You were famous! Well, infamous, to be honest. But I was a teenager back then... I'm five years younger than you, it's not too strange that I've never met you, and I haven't really thought back to my awkward fat teenager time for years, really... But Pete! You were in *Arma Angelus*, with Tim McIlrath! I think there is even a Wikipedia article on that band, holy smokes!”
“There actually is, but Tim is the only one that has his own article... I bet we have an overenthusiastic Rise Against fan to thank for that Arma article though...”
“Is that how you know Joe? From the Chicago scene? He told me he was involved in it when we first met in the studio. I bet it wouldn't have taken much for me and him to meet back in Chicago in a bookstore or something”, laughed Patrick.
“And Andy”, Pete nodded, “but none of our bands ever took off, so we had to rethink our career choices. Me and Andy decided to stick together and that's how we ended up at TAW.”
By then Pete had put his am around Patrick and leaned his head on the smaller ones shoulder.
“Just imagine”, Patrick said, taking Pete's hand in his, “what could have been when the four of us had met and formed a band together.”
“With your voice we would've made it on top of the charts in less then five years.”, Pete assured.
From upstairs they could hear the intro of 'Master Of Puppets'.

~*~*~

Leathermouth's band practice had taken till way past midnight and after they had finished up Frank had noticed two missed calls from Jamia. Well, she knew that Tuesdays were band days, so she should be O.K., Frank reasoned, she hadn't left a message after all or written a text.
Frank was at home now, watching some cheesy horror movie marathon waiting for it being time to leave for his lunch with Jamia. He was also exited to see Gerard again today, he had decided to invite the guy to next Saturday's Leathermouth show.
Maybe he was a bit too exited, he noted. Huh.

~*~*~

Gerard Way was, once again, sitting at his office and staring at his name plate, when the doors were opened.
“Frank is here”, said Ryan, sounding bored. “I think he's looking for you...”
“Oh, O.K., just-”
“I know, I know, I'll be in my bedroom making no noise and pretending I don't exist.”, said Ryan in a deadpan.
“Yeah, basically.”, confirmed Gerard and left to search for Frank.

“Oh, Gerard, hi!”, said Frank when he saw him. “I was looking for you! I wanted to invite you to next Saturday's Leathermouth show, I can write you and plus one up on the guest list if you want to come! If you don't have time on Saturday, we also play the Friday after that...”
“I'm single.”, Gerard blurted out, which wasn't the answer he had wanted to give. “I mean, yeah, Saturday is fine...”
“O.K.... You can bring whoever, you know? Well, I'm gonna go have lunch with Jamia now, see you around Gerard.”, he smiled.
“Yeah, Frank, see you...”, Gerard said quietly and went back to his office.