The Black Parade Is Dead!

Ray's POV

We finish our last song of the night and the crowd of maybe forty or fifty people applaud and scream at us. It's an amazing feeling, I can tell you. I love nothing more than being on stage and playing guitar with my band mates.
"Thank you everyone. Hope you had a fucking great time, 'cos we sure as hell did!" screams Gerard, our singer, before we leave the stage.
He congratulates me with, "Good job, Toro," as we walk backstage, and pats my back slightly harder than someone normally would. Well, he is drunk, as usual.

I decide I want a drink and walk over towards the bar. As I get closer, my attention is drawn to one guy that's sitting there with a pint in his hand. He has short blonde hair, a tough face and big muscles shown off by the black tank he's wearing. Quite good-looking. But I shouldn't be thinking that.

I walk over to the bar and decide to start a conversation with this guy. I need someone to talk to right now, after that little argument with Jeph this morning. Someone who I could just chat to about general stuff.
"Is this seat taken?" I ask the guy, gesturing towards the stool next to him.
"Nope, sit," he replies without looking at me. As he speaks, I notice his lip ring. It gives him a tough edge, without looking agressive or shabby. I lose myself in my thoughts until I realise that he's looking at me and rush to say something.
"I'm Ray Toro," I tell him.
"Bob Bryar," he responds, and grips my hand firmly, shaking it, so I grip tightly too.

I've heard it said before that you can tell a lot about a man from his handshake, and I'd always though that was bull, up until now. Looking at him now, it was like we were destined to be friends. We'd barely talked, but I could just tell. And I really needed a friend. Gerard was pretty much permanantly drunk, Mikey was too shy to have a decent conversation with, Frank was always too hyper and Matt was just an asshole most of the time. And Jeph... well... we weren't really freinds.

Midnight comes around quickly, and I realise that I've been talking to Bob about random stuff (music, TV, childhood memories etc.) for almost three hours. I give him my number and, regretfully, wish him goodbye.
I don't know if I'll ever see him again, after all we are on tour and will be leaving this town tomorrow, but I have this strange feeling that we will meet again. I didn't know that it was possible to create such a strong friendship in a matter of hours, but I feel like I can trust Bob completely. We never told each other anything about our personal lives, but everything else just seemed to have come out while I was talking to him.

I sigh as I walk back to the bus in the darkness. If only me and Jeph could be friends and not just...