Disorder

Mikey bounced around the room, amped up to play their very first show with their newest songs added to the band’s compilation.

Plus, Frank, his friend, was going to come and watch them play. He had gotten them this show in the first place, as he was part of his own band Pencey Prep. Right now, doing a favor for his best friend Mikey, Frank was trying to get the manager of Eyeball Records to sign the new band.

But while Mikey was so very excited about the new band and the prospects it raised, he felt kind of bad for letting his college work suffer. His mother told him everyday that he should stop slacking off in school so he’d have a backup plan when the band failed. Mikey wasn’t afraid of that though. His and Gerard’s mother had never bothered to listen to their music, so she didn’t know how awesome it was and how sure everyone in the band was about it.

“Mikey! Are you okay?” Ray prodded him in the neck, causing Mikey to break out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. I was just zoning out is all.” He stretched back and collided with Gerard’s back.

“Don’t touch me, motherfucker.” He growled. Gerard’s head was throbbing violently and he knew that any minute he was going to have to run into the bathroom and vomit. He also knew that all of this shit he was going through was his own fault. If he hadn’t been so stupid as to waste all of those years drinking his life away… well, then he probably would be settled down and with a kid.

“Sorry, I was just stretching.” Mikey recoiled from Gerard’s tone and went to stand behind Ray. “He’s really suffering right now. Don’t you think that maybe we should give him something? Just to calm him down.”

“No. He needs to get past this, Mikey. How do you expect him to do that if we give in and feed him a steady supply of what’s killing him?” Ray whispered in an agitated voice.

Mikey and Ray were silent for a minute, watching Gerard struggle to remain standing and clutch his stomach, face turning a shade of deathly grey.

“He’ll be okay, Mikey.” Ray said, patting his shoulder. “He just needs our help.”

Mikey nodded, “Hey, big brother… want some coffee?” He called and went to help Gerard stand up straight.

Matt came slouching down the stairs, followed by a short guy with long, dirty dreadlocks and a lip ring.

“Guy says he’s here for Mikey,” Matt said to Ray with a smirking tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mikey demanded, shoving a cup of coffee at Gerard, spilling it all over him. He winced in pain and dropped the coffee cup, sending it shattering in a million pieces.

“Nothing to get upset over.” Matt said coolly.

“No? I think you were fucking implying something. What the hell did you mean, Mattie?” He growled, taking a step towards Matt, fist clenched.

“Are we going to play or not?” Matt asked clenching his own fists, but taking his eyes off of Mikey to stare at the other members of the band. Part of Matt expected at least Gerard to defend him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that he’d be chosen over Mikey.

“The show doesn’t start for another hour.” Frank muttered, eyes on the ground. He fiddled with the fringe of his hoodie sleeve and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

Gerard, wiping his burning hand on his pants, noticed Frank’s ill-at-ease stance and Mikey’s defensive words. As much as Gerard was grateful to Frank for getting them their first show, he was going to have to have a talk with the smelly, dreadlocked short boy. But first… first he needed something to help him calm down.

“Mikey, I don’t think Matt meant anything. Just settle the fuck down and leave each other alone.” Gerard slouched down in his chair and closed his eyes, fighting the spinning room and his own booming words.

“Whatever…” Mikey growled. He glared at Matt, who smiled mock-sweetly at him and left the room, brushing past Frank in the process of leaving.

Frank got the message and started to follow Mikey, but before he left the room, he turned around, “Uhm… I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Frank Iero, I play guitar. You met me a few times when you picked Mikey up from my house,” he waved at Gerard, who appeared to be sleeping. Frank made an awkward face, turned towards the door, turned back around, opened his mouth, shut it, then turned back around again.

“I heard you, motherfucker. I remember you. It’s just wonderful to see you again. Care to join me in jumping into piles of guitar picks and skipping afterwards?” Gerard scoffed. He had almost fallen asleep, and God knows that he needs some rest. But Frank just wouldn’t let him sleep. Yes, he was an alcoholic druggie, but that didn’t mean that he forgot every goddamn thing.

Frank frowned and crossed his arms, “Sorry,” he said with an attitude. “I was just trying to be po-.”

“Oh god, shut the fuck up.” Gerard groaned. Ray stopped tuning his guitar and watched the scene before him carefully, ready to step in if Gerard got too… rowdy.

The youngest in the room ran his tongue over his lip ring and left the room, wondering what he possibly did to make Gerard angry.

“Your brother hates me.” He announced to Mikey, smoking a cigarette in front of the venue. Some girls passed them and smiled at Frank, waving a few delicate fingers at him.

“Gerard hates everyone, don’t take is personally. And he’s going through a hard time right now. Lately, he’s been trying to get off some drugs and, like anybody else, it’s difficult for him. He was addicted to the drugs for 4 years.” Mikey confided, flicking his half-gone cigarette on the ground and walking away from Frank.

Back in the venue, Matt and Ray were arguing over Matt’s beer. Naturally, Ray didn’t want it for himself, but he didn’t want Gerard to be faced with anymore temptation that his mind already plagued him with. But Matt just wouldn’t throw the beer away.

“Ray, I assure you. I’m fucking fine. I don’t need you, or Mikey or anyone for that matter to try and protect me. I’m a big fucking boy and I don’t appreciate you trying to be my mother! If you keep on fucking trying to protect poor, weak Gerard then I swear I will make you regret it.” Gerard growled, staring into Ray’s eyes.

Ray didn’t respond, captivated by Gerard’s blood-shot eyes. A pressure built in his stomach, like an animal preparing to flee. His blood sped up and his breathing came in short gasps. The brown eyes so desperately wanted to blink, but it was as if Gerard’s hazel ones commanded them, and commanded Ray.

Gerard finally blinked and looked away, unnerved by what had just happened. It had been many years since his eyes had ever rooted anyone to the spot like that. He had forgotten what a rush of heart-pounding adrenaline streamed through his veins when he caused someone’s very heart to almost stop with the mere power of his eyes. It felt… good.

Ray scrambled away from Gerard, trying to hide the apparent fear that had streamed through his veins. Never before had Gerard used any form of charismatic power on him. He resumed tuning his guitar, although it was finely tuned already. Behind him, Matt sniggered.

“I’m going outside to have a smoke.” Gerard stated, grabbing his leather jacket from a chair near where Ray was tuning. He leaned close to Ray and felt a surge of pleasure when the guitarist flinched, accidentally pulling a guitar string too tight.

“I’ll go with you!” Matt said, grabbing his own jacket. But he was seized by a glare from Gerard.

“No. You stay.” He commanded and left the room. Outside, it was chilly and a white sliver of the moon, barely evident against the dark sky, assisted no guide for walking. That didn’t matter to Gerard though. His headache was gone and it was all thanks to giving someone else dread. It seemed that, for the time being, he found an outlet for withdrawal pains.

“Alright, Mikey. Good luck performing.” Gerard heard Frank say and he saw a blurred black figure headed for him.

Deciding to give Frank a good, head-clearing scare, Gerard put on a gravelly voice, “Aren’t you a pretty boy… nice, pretty, succulent boy.”

Frank whipped around to the sound of Gerard’s disguised voice and the latter was pleased to hear him breathing frantically. “Wh-Who’s there?”

At first, Gerard was going to continue to use the scary, gravelly voice… but with the revelation of his newly powerful eyes, he decided to give the old voice a go. “Nobody but the one you fear the most. I promise you… I won’t hurt you.”

Frank’s breathing eased as he took a step toward the sweet, addictive voice. It seemed a little familiar, but he just couldn’t place a chipped nail polish covered finger on it.

“A little closer, my friend. I can’t very well see you in the dark.”

He did was he was told and strode closer to a vague, dark outline. Once he was close enough to reach out and poke the figure, he just stood there, waiting for more commands. But none came; the silence pertained to the moments in a horror movie when the heroine (or hero) was hiding from the murderer, trying franticly to maintain hidden.

Yet, that didn’t cause Frank to move away or even flinch. Through the darkness, he had caught a glimpse of something both menacing and oddly reassuring: the faint twinkling of eyes.

A car pulled into view and for a split second, Gerard’s face was driven out of the shadows and illuminated by the headlights of the car. Before Frank could derive who it was, Gerard launched himself at Frank and tackled him to the ground, shrieking in cruel laughter.

Frank struggled on the hard tar, punching at the maniac laughing- well… manically on top of him. Other than crushing him under his weight, the maniac was doing anything to harm Frank. Another car pulled into the parking lot and Frank was able to see Gerard clutching his stomach and tears of mirth pouring down his face. He shoved the insane one off if him and got up, slapping some dust off his pants.

“Motherfucker! You scared the shit out of me!”

Still laughing, Gerard was unable to respond. He rolled on the ground and thought his ribs were going to crack from laughing so hard. “Oh, shit… your face before I tackled you was so fucking funny.”

“Fucking cunt.” Frank spat and started to walk away. But he was stopped by Gerard’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, I do need to talk to you though.” He said, his breathing labored from guffawing so much.

“Fuck you.” Frank shoved Gerard’s hand off of him and tried to walk away, but Gerard told him to stop, using the same charismatic voice as before. Frank was simply a human, therefore unable to resist the honey tones of Gerard’s voice.

“I want to talk to you about Mikey.”

“What about him?” Frank asked carefully. It was quite evident that Gerard was an unstable motherfucker with a liking for scaring the shit out of people. But still… the voice…

Gerard smiled crookedly at Frank. “You better not hurt him.”

“I’m not seeing him.”

“Liar.”

“I’m really not seeing him.” Frank said, articulating as if that would make Gerard believe him.

“If you hurt him,” Gerard said as if Frank had not spoken, “I will hunt you down and promise you a death so slow and painful that’ll make you wish you stuck to cunts. It’ll be torture and the whole time I’ll make you think of Mikey. Of how you hurt him and how you never deserved him and how you wish you were dead.”

Frank’s eyes widened and his mouth fell slack. It was as if Gerard had dunked him into a tub full of concentrated horror with mere words and threats. Normally, Frank was never one to be intimidated by anyone or anything… but this was different. Gerard spoke so surely that Frank knew that this was no lie. He would really suffer… “But…. I’m not seeing your brother. He’s just my friend.”

“Come here. Stand there… no, there. Alright, look at me. Look into my eyes. Look into my eyes, I said. Now, repeat your last words.”

Gerard’s eyes were hazel fire with every intent of burning Frank if he so much as suspected a lie. “I… am not dating… Mikey.”

The taller of the two held the other, guaranteeing that this was indeed the truth. Obviously satisfied, Gerard pushed Frank away. “Fine. Now go.”

No need to tell me twice, freak. Frank thought and practically ran away from Gerard. Once he was back in the venue, in the safety of the jostling crowd - riled up for a good show - he thought of the depth of those eyes. Yes, there was cruelty and malice, but there was beauty hidden deep in the pores. He couldn’t help but notice that detail and it burned shamefully under his skin along with admiration for Gerard’s sick ability.

Suddenly the lights went out and the crowd started roaring, and jumping, even before the band got on stage,

The lights surged back on and there stood the 4 men, 8 arms raised in the air, watching the crowd scream.

Slowly, Gerard lowered his hand holding the microphone. “WE ARE… MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE!”