You Wanna See How Far Down I Can Sink?

The day was warm and sticky; a typicality of the long, muggy month of August coming to a very welcomed close. The day itself might not have been so horrible on its own, but with the layers of stage clothing he wore and the horribly damp handkerchief he wore around his neck, it seemed to affect him at least tenfold, even with the air conditioner blaring on the unventilated bus, and the duel fans he had surrounded himself with his forehead still dripped with perspiration, his clothes feeling ablaze. Being in a state as muggy and disgusting as Atlanta didn’t help either, it has to have been a million times worse than it would be if they were just back in Jersey.

At least though, by being in the bus, he completely missed those few fans that were always wandering around if there was a band playing that they didn’t like. Occasionally, they’d be alright, but for the most part, they were downright creepy. Usually they screamed and some of them fainted. A few of them asked for autographs with this Cheshire Cat grins on their faces, which was alright, he supposed, just until they tried to hug his already sweltering body.

Probably the best and the worst thing were the offers for sex. It was horribly immoral, but most of the chicks who offered were fucking smoking, and sometimes, it did take him a little self-discipline to turn them down, usually by telling himself that they must be sluts, must have a horrible STD or something, that and that he’d be way too hot if he had sex, which was mostly the reason he’d not gone out looking for one; he sure as fuck wanted to enough, especially on the horrible lack-luster dog days that they were having.

He’d sat himself on the couch and laid his head back, right below one of the circulation units of the air conditioner, feeling a constant, wispy breeze on his forehead which caused a few beads of sweat a minute down the side of his temple and fluttered his damp, raven hair slightly as a blow dryer would. He’d not known how long he’d been there, but he’d set himself there immediately after his set had ended and not moved since. For all he knew, the sets could be ending and they could be on the road already, of course it wouldn’t matter to him, but he scorned the next day of having to go on that stage again and sing those songs again and listen to those girls again and be around those god damn flames again mixed with the sweltering heat. For fucks sake he truly had no idea who the fuck in the band was so stupid to agree to join such a fucked up festival at such a horrible time—

"Gerard?" he growled as he was he felt a hand on his shoulder, nudging him, prodding him to attention.

"What?" He unwillingly lifted his head, loosing his jet of air and grumbling to himself, using the back of his hand to wipe the collected sweat on his brow, "It’s too hot for this Mikey." He repeated, "What do you want?"

He watched his lanky kid brother straighten up, unappreciative of the tone he’d been given, using his fingers to separate a few coated strands of his normally dusty brown hair from his forehead, for transudation had turned it sodden and a deeper brown. "G, we’re all hot, no need to be a bitch about it, bro."

Gerard sighed, took the handkerchief off his neck to dab his neck, then threw it to the floor and looked up to his brother, "Temper’s short. Sorry Mike. Now what?"

"Yeah. Whatever…" still a bit moody from the affront and with his patience already being tested by the heat, Mikey’s arms crossed and he looked down, supremantly to Gerard. "We’re going out to Seven Eleven for slupee’s or something. You want us to bring you something back?"

He raised his eyebrow, leaning forward, propping his elbows on his knees and using his palms to prop up his chin, "We?"

"Frank and I."

"So that’s why I can’t come?"

"I never said you couldn’t come."

"Alright," Gerard sat up, spreading his arms out on the top of the sofa and shrugged his shoulders. "Can I come?"

"Do you want a fucking slurpee or what? I’m trying to be nice and offer you shit here…"

Obviously all the fun he could poke at him was drained, so Gerard rolled his eyes, smoothing back his hair and laying back under the air conditioner. "Hey, take some fucking Midol and cool it. I don’t want shit. How long you two gonna be gone?"

"Why do you care?"

"Lemme borrow that car when you get back."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever. See you G." Mikey’s answer was short and hot and immediately after saying it, he turned on his heel.

"And don’t fucking sploodge on them seats either. I don’t want that shit melting into my pants!"

He heard Mikey scoff, disgusted, and seconds later, the sound of the bus door slam behind him. Gerard sighed and smirked to himself, content at the hell he could still manage to bring to that kid.

____

It wasn’t more than an hour later before he heard the door swing open from Mikey again. Of course Ray and Bob and come in and out a few times, but without raising his head, he could tell it was Mikey stepping onto the bus. Frank and Mikey, he meant of course. Mikey and Frank—Frikey: the dynamic duo, inseparable guitarists, both with an incurable obsession for each other and each other’s asses or dicks… or both, back from their slurpee date or fucking in the back of his brother’s SUV, or something of the sort.

Though his eyes were closed, Gerard rolled them as they tripped up the stairs together and giggled about something surely idiotic, certainly close, despite the heat, stuck together with the horrible glue that seemed to bond them. Their foot steps were clumsy as they walked in his direction, and when they grew close enough to be in front of him, they stopped for a brief moment, and Gerard opened a single eye a bit, then tilted his head to look over the two: as he’d predicted, Mikey’s arm was around Frank, his hand twisting around him to find a home in his back, right pocket, and the smaller, darker boy was nuzzled close to him, his forehead resting into his neck as he tilted his lips up to kiss the boy’s throat.

Gerard shuddered and looked up to Mikey, whose lips had nestled themselves into a short lock of waves on the top of the other’s head. He extend the muscle’s near his lips and gave it a small peck, then pulled back with a vacuous smile, possibly from his swain still attached to his neckline. When his attention finally settled on Gerard, he kept the smile, seeming to forget the arrogant things he’d said before, dropping the keys into his lap. "Have it back here before we leave tomorrow? Me ’n Frank wanted to drive down to West Palm by ourselves."

"Yeah," he sighed, nauseated at the two of them. He grabbed the keys from his knees and quickly stood, "Gotcha. What time is it?"

Frank lifted Mikey’s hand to check his watch, "Eight seventeen."

Gerard’s eyes again rolled as Frank kissed Mikey’s hand just below his wrist and linked their fingers, swinging their hands slowly between them for a little bit. "Yeah, I’ll be back at midnight at the latest. You two should nap or something," separate from each other for like five seconds, I’m sure you’re loosing brain cells being deprived of so much oxygen for such a long time, "so you’re not tired to drive and whatever. I’ll see ya though." He turned and sort of raised his hand over his should to show he was leaving and walked for the door, grabbing a spare bandana to tuck in his pocket, then descended the stairs, letting the door slam freely behind him as he exited.

The air was cooler outside than he remembered it, and a sort of musty over baked smell overtook him as he looked around. The familiar red-brown fro and scruffy head of blond hair of his other two band mates were each separately identifiable a few feet away. The darker complicated one had a horrible folding lawn chair positioned under a tree no more than a few yards away, completely into a game on a hand-held device in his hand while the flaxen one was in the opposite direction fairly far from him, observing through the curtain at a set that was still on; lucky bastards getting the cool air to play in. The heat of the earlier shift was vomit-inducing, and not just figuratively.

Gerard decided not to bother with the one at the show, the walk was too far, and he personally couldn’t find that he cared enough to make it, so he turned on the afroed man in the chair, taking a few strides between him and the car.

"Ray, come to the bar with me."

"M?" he didn’t look up from his game, but made a noticeable effort to at least make the motion of starting to.

"I said come to the bar with me. I’m buying?"

"Yeah, yeah, that’s cool Gerard," Ray tapped on the buttons with his thumbs, biting his lower lip, "I’ll be in later."

"Yeah… okay… thanks. You’re a fucking pal."

"Mhm..." Ray nodded and Gerard let out a sharp, annoyed breath, proceeding to the car, hitting the ’unlock’ button on the way, growling under his breath. For a front man, he sure did get a fuckload of credit within the band.

____

The bar was mostly empty and very cool as Gerard entered it. Luckily most of the bar stools were vacant, so he took the one closest to him and put an order in for a shot of Bacardi, giving the man his credit card to start a running tab, then laced his fingers together, leaning onto the bar and observing its features, as the shot and his credit card were set in front of him a few moments later.

It wasn’t a typical bar for being a southern one, but then again, he hadn’t gone more than a mile away from the site of the gig, so it was a fairly urbanized area. The table tops, stools, and glasses were clean, he observed, letting his eyes wander the place, and it was decorated in an metropolitan style, like the ones he’d gone to in New York with and snuck Mikey alcoholic drinks when he was just at age and Mikey was still underage; in exchange for his company and a decent conversation. Yeah, he sighed, pocketing his credit card, then downing his shot and gesturing for the bartender to bring him another, that’s what it was trying to copy with that style; New York, before Mikey’d gotten too busy with a boyfriend and he himself could never stay in one place to form anything from being fucking homeless and on the road for practically six years.

The bartender set another shot down in front of him, then moved onto serve two pretty girls, who looked like similar, maybe sisters, leaving Gerard time to let his eyes wander around the other faces at the bar. It was kind of funny how empty the scene was, a Saturday night with an entire concert festival in town… It was kind of annoying… all couples mostly too; exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. He downed his next shot and shook his head, writhing a little from the bitter taste and looked up for the bartender, who was still with the two girls, leaning over the counter, a suave smile on his face, as the two just sort of giggling like women did during that sort of thing. It was ridiculous.

He really couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so unnoticed, but then again, wasn’t completely sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing, though he felt like he really should have, being who he was.

Subconsciously, he sighed, watching as the bartender left the two ladies who were closest beside him at the bar. They were fairly young… he was sure if he mentioned his name… made mention of who he was and what he did, they would fix the situation in a heartbeat. His eyes tracked down to their low, v-neck tops and their loose frame-work, the girl closest to him had her hand on the other’s leg. Hell, they might even be two more to ask him if he was carrying a condom with him.

He sort of gestured the bartender over and asked for an expensive, non-run-of-the-mill type of beer. At the suggestion, he was tended to much hastier than before, to his satisfaction, and stood from his stool as he was presented with some old England style of bottle. Whatever the cost was, he was sure he had enough to cover it, so after cracking the bottle and taking a sip of the most peculiar tasting beer he’d ever had, he strode over to the two girls a few stools away, leaning on the bar next to the blonde one, causing both her and her black haired companion to break from their conversation, each raising an eyebrow up at him, the dark haired one crossing her arms and legs expectantly.

With a bit of a buzz already, Gerard tried his best to put a sexy smirk on his lips, turning his beer in his fingers to show the logo on it when he was poised to take another drink, shrugging his shoulders a little. "You girls look like you could use a night of free drinks…" he took a sip of his beer, watching the girls eye the label, "You interested?"

"M…" the blonde shrugged, looking suspiciously over to her friend, who shrugged and took a sip of her fruity-looking drink, "Yeah, sure. Why not." She brought her hand forward and Gerard met it with his own, "I’m Jess."

He nodded a bit, his hand in a small shaking motion, and relayed "Gerard." Then took his hand back and extended it past the first to the other girl, "and you are?"

Jess moved back a bit to let the other bring her hand forward, "Oh, this is my girlfriend." Gerard’s arm tensed as she said the words and looked to the other girl, mentally cursing himself, but smiling and shaking her hand none the less, tightening his hand muscles a bit as she took it.

"Chris." She smiled and then pulled her hand back in a gentle sort of manner, proceeding to place it on the back of the other girl’s stool.

Gerard inaudibly hissed under his breath, turning to the bar and taking a long swig of his beer. He could never get a fucking break.

____

Gerard’s cell phone had rung countless times as the night grew to a close. He was plastered though, so he didn’t really pay mind to it. It was well after midnight and it was only Mikey calling, he knew. It didn’t matter though. The next show wasn’t until Monday, and it would be Sunday… no, at midnight it had become Sunday, so he had an entire day to sleep it off anyway. The inseparable fuck buddy’s could spare a few hours from driving down to an even muggier shithole than they’d been in the day previous.

His head was rested on the bar as the phone rang yet another time, and as it did so, the girl closest to him nudged his shoulder, causing him to wobble in a drunken stupor on his stool, raising an eyebrow to look up at her warily, "Mph…"

Three of them had spent the night drinking and laughing, and it was after his eighth beer and countless shots that Gerard found himself quite stuck to the countertop, his eyes twitching and showing him blurry images of most everything around him as he struggled to focus on the person before him. "Hey… dude… you want us to give you a ride back to… your bus or something?"

"M…" he shook his head, sitting up straight and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, reaching over for another sip of his beer, but found that it’d been taken in his bit of mental absence, "hey… man…" his eyes, each focusing on its own destination, moved to the bartender who was watching him skeptically, "get me a fucking Brewski, alright?" he sniffed, cracking his neck and turning his head to the girl, "How bout I take you back to my bus… mm…" he moved closer to her, running a hand down her thigh, nuzzling her hair back from her ear with his nose, "or we could just go ta my car… ’s right outside, m… what’d’ya say?"

She pulled back, causing Gerard to stumble forward and grab onto the bar to stabilize himself, a small smirk on his lips as his eyes glazed back up at her, "M… hardtaget… I like that…" he made to advance on her, and felt a sharp sting on his cheek which caused him to stumble back, holding it, watching curiously up at the two girls, one of which had her hand around the other’s waist, they were both on their feet, and looking considerably annoyed with his antics, "Wasss’ that for?"

Before they could answer, he felt the collar of his shirt being seized and a hand on his back urged him forward, causing his feet to trip over themselves as he was pushed to the door. Once there, he was thrown onto the pavement and used his arm to break his fall. His eyes darted up to the door, but they were closed before he could get another look in, so he picked himself up off the ground and stumbled over his own feet, heading in the direction he was almost sure he’d parked Mikey’s car in.

__

He couldn’t recollect how he’d managed it, but shortly after one o’clock, Gerard arrived at the bus. The night air had become much cooler, but the humid air had held onto a lot of the heat still, making it a typical clammy summer morning. Though he’d arrived back from the bar, Gerard stayed in the SUV for quite a while after his head rested on the steering wheel, wanting to smash his head open on it.

The girls in the bar had been too goddamn much. He felt himself throbbing in his pants, in need for some kind of action. For fuck’s sake; of course it was his luck to meet, of all the girls at a bar, two goddamn lesbians. He let out a sharp breath and scuttled his hand around, searching for the door handle, and momentarily hitting the horn which went off just as he’d finally gotten the door open, which of course forced gravity to pull him to the ground again. He lay there and groaned for a second or two. He’d probably woken everyone. Just a few more seconds and they’d be trooping out of that bus to bitch at him. How the fuck dare he. He was the front man, he was their image. How the fuck dare he get thrown out of a bar simply for waning a good piece of ass once in a mother fucking while.

"Ugh…" he sat on the ground and dusted off his elbows, shaking his head. He watched the bus. It didn’t move. They probably weren’t up things did sound louder when drunk normally, he told himself, standing up to brush off the rest of the dirt from his clothes. So he was surprised when he heard the soft click of the door and his hazed eyes tracked up to find a small, short figure approaching him in the moonlight.

"Gerard?" Frank was clad only in his boxers. The moon shone upon his body in a pale blue. His body was the lightest bit wet, most likely from the heat, and his waistline was trim from the stress of tour. His face had always been defined and curious, and in the moonlight, it was hard to take ones eyes off the lip ring that he was biting (a nervous habit) as he approached slowly.

"Mph." Both voices were low and rasp, careful not to wake the three others sleeping only a few yards away.

"What’re you doing out here? It’s— Gerard!"

"Fuck," Gerard winced as Frank moved his hand to the side of his face, his fingers prickling against a small scrape he must have gotten upon being thrown from the bar.

"S-sorry." The moon illuminated the confused wrinkles on his face as he looked up at him, "You’re bleeding G… what happened?

"’s nothing…" he grunted, turning his head.

Frank’s head was tilted up a bit, his eyes searched his face for a few seconds, then shrugged, reaching forward for Gerard’s wrist, "Yeah, alright, come on… you need to clean up ’n I got to get to sleep. Me ’n Mikey are leaving at—"

"What the fuck is it with you two anyway?"

Frank furrowed his brow as Gerard spoke, pulling on his wrist to get him to come forward with him, "Gerard, you’re drunk, come on now…"

"No. I’m stayin’ out here… it’s nice." He moved closer to Frank, looking down sharply at his damp chest, then still nebulously up to his eyes, dropping his voice to a soft, lubricious tone, "you should stay with me."

"Gerard…" Frank stepped back a little, releasing Gerard’s wrist, "no… I’ve got to wake up tomorrow… Me and Mikey…"

He let out a sharp hiss and his hand tightened around Frank’s forearm before he could pull it back all the way: he pulled the boy toward him. "A few minutes won’t hurt."

"You’re drunk Gerard…" Frank’s voice shook a little as he spoke, he pulled at his arm, trying to free it, "Mikey won’t like this…"

Gerard growled, pulling Frank closer, letting out a deep, angry breath, "What Mikey doesn’t know won’t hurt him."

"You… what?" Frank tugged tirelessly on his wrist, using his other hand to try and pry the fingers off of it, his eyes still on Gerard’s, "What do you mean?"

"Would you fucking quit?" his tone turned sadistic and he tightened his grip on Frank’s arm, causing the boy to whimper slightly, still pulling and writheing in an attempt at escape. "Cut it the fuck out Frank," his whisper was hoarse, he used his other hand to move onto Frank’s back, pushing him forward into himself, causing a small, soft groan to emit from his lips, "fuck…"

"G-Gerard," the boy squirmed, trying to release himself, "Get off me... I swear… when I tell Mikey he’ll—" Frank’s eyes watered and his head turned to the side slightly. He shivered somewhere between disbelief and pain, before his jaw was seized with the hand that had pressed his hips into Gerard’s and now forced him to stare up into his eyes, silent with shock.

"Don’t." Gerard breathed through his teeth, his hand tightening on Frank’s arm, "Don’t you fucking breath a word of this to my brother, you hear me?" He watched down as Frank shivered and blinked up at him his lower lip trembling slightly. Gerard brought his hand back up, sharply colliding it with Frank’s cheek before pulling him closer by his chin. "Do you fucking hear me?"

Frank shivered and Gerard felt his the tips of his fingers become wet and watched Frank as he stumped on a few words, "Y-you’re drunk Gerard…" he yelped as Gerard tightened his hand muscles on his face, "I-I won’t say a word."

"Fucking right you won’t," Gerard pushed his jaw back and moved his hand down, starting to dig in his pocket.

Frank brought his free hand up to massage the skin on it. It would surely be bruised the next day. He let out a slow, shuttering breath, not daring to pull again at his arm, but instead watched as Gerard pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and subconsciously moved back as Gerard started to release his arm. This made the grip tighten and Gerard brought his fist up, socking Frank in the jaw. He took advantage of the moment of shock he’d induced and grabbed the boy by his hair, placing a hand over his mouth, feeling a gush of warm blood spill out between his lips as he attempted a muffled scream. He turned him so that his back was to his chest and he could move his lips down to his ear to whisper sharply. When he’d done so, he removed the hand from his hair and put it on his waist instead, holding him against his hips and into his groin, letting out a soft, satyric moan into his hair.

"Are you scared Frank?" he growled, pressing his hand tightly over the other’s mouth, observing a quiet whimper and a very slight nod, feeling a few more tears on his hand, "Good… that’s good. Do you think I’m going to kill you?" He felt the body pressed to his own shake, and again, his hand moved up and down a bit as he perceived a nod, "I wouldn’t kill you." The body shook a bit harder as he moved his hand down Frank’s thigh, grabbing a handful of skin and letting out a deep, hot breath on the skin of his ear, "M… I’ll even let you go right back in there with Mikey ’n a little… mph… all you gotta do it cooperate with me. ’S not so hard, m… you might even like it. Mm…" he moved his hand down Frank’s leg, pressing him in further against him, feeling himself harden, "What’d you say?" He loosened his hand from Frank’s mouth a little, still keeping a tight grip on his leg, letting his hand linger over his mouth, just in case.

"M-Mikey! H—"

Gerard’s hand slammed back over his mouth. He forced him down onto his stomach and pinned his arms to his sides with his knees, shaking and snarling, his chest heaving, pushing his face into the dirt to prevent him from screaming, "Fine then." He reached back into his pocket for the handkerchief with one hand, forcing it between Frank’s lips on the ground, freeing his other hand, then pulling both ends of it tight against his lips, assuming Frank was using his teeth to stop it from entering all the way.

"Open your fucking mouth Frank." He growled, pulling the ends still harder on his mouth, "I’ll fucking kill you Frank, I swear to god I will."

The boy whimpered and his mouth opened and soon the bandana was fastened behind his head, causing him to gag a little, but keeping him from making loud noises as it was supposed to. He brought his body off the boy and pulled him to his feet by his hair, pushing him against the car. He pulled his hands together behind his back, then slid his belt off, using it to twist around his wrists and forearms, fastening it closed tightly with the clasp. He kept him pressed against the car with one hand, then used the other to undo his pants, letting them fall around his ankles along with his boxers. Already hard, he brought his hand up and down his shaft a few times, to move things along quickly, then pulled Frank’s boxers down to his thighs.

It was lucky the air-conditioning was on so heavy. The others might have heard something otherwise.
___

Frank’s body lay curled in the fold-out lawn chair outside the bus. His skin was flakey with dirt and grass and shaking visibly. His right eye was swollen, and from behind the bandana still tied around his mouth, a trickle of blood ran down his chin, a patch of clotted blood collected on his chest, directly under the stream. His hands were still bound and a charging cord was wrapped around his ankles preventing him from moving. His cheeks were red and bruised and stained in tears and his eyes, though aching, focused the door to the bus. He could still feel the rough hand tightened on his jaw and he shivered as the sun began to peak over the horizon, "Don’t you tell them a word," the voice in his mind hissed and he brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, praying for someone to come out of the bus as he mentally watched Gerard walk to the toward it and open the door quietly, stepping a foot up, "Or I swear I’ll finish the job." His mental manifestation of the front man smirked and winked at him, and stepped all the way inside, carefully closing the door behind him.