They had another concert today and Frank was unsure of it. It was only a couple of hours until performance, but he knew the day was just going to drag out. By checking his watch, the guitarist discovered it was quite late already, so he forced himself to get up. Everything felt like it was spinning as he stood up because he'd gotten up too fast. Sighing, Frank rubbed his eyes, finding Mikey, Ray, Bob and Brian all facing him with blank expressions. To be honest, it was slightly creepy. They were all staring at him like he had five heads. "What's up?" He asked, feeling uncomfortable, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Ray, who had his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the wall, spoke up first, "we need to talk."
Frank attempted at lightening the damp mood. "If I was a girl, I'd think you were all breaking up with me."
Still, they all kept straight faces, which continued to worry Frank. Mikey cleared his throat, switching his gaze from Frank to stare at his hands. "We found. . ." He paused, taking a deep breath. "We found cocaine in one of Gerard's suits."
He knew it didn't really matter at that moment. But, he asked anyway, "why were you looking through his clothes in the first place?"
"Don't stand up for him." Bob said, earning a scowl from Frank.
The guitarist was about to reply when Brian took the opportunity first. "We weren't looking through his clothes. Mikey was tidying the tour bus a little when he picked up Gerard's jackets. . . And they fell out." He explained, getting an "oh" from Frank, who just hung his head. "We know you're closest to him-"
"Mikey's his brother for crying out loud." Frank pointed out, gesturing to the bassist with his eyebrows raised, knowing exactly what he was about to tell him to do. "I can't talk to Gee. What if I screw things up and he hates me? What if. . . I don't know. Just. . . Get Mikey to talk to him. I can't do it." He had no idea why he refused so strongly. It wasn't that he didn't particularly want to confront Gerard, it was the fact he might screw up their friendship.
If Mikey talked to him, it would be different because they were brothers and Gerard would be more likely to listen to his own brother.
Ray shook his head. "No, Frank. We need you. It's highly likely he'll listen to you more."
"Why? Why me? What's so special about me?" The guitarist glared, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
Mikey sighed, putting his head in his hands for a brief moment before answering, "you're his best friend. If it was me talking, he'd think I was against him because we're brother's. With a best friend it means something."
"I don't get it. He'd think I was against him too. What the difference?" Frank huffed.
Brian opened his mouth, ready to explain further, but all of their heads darted to the door as it opened, revealing a dark eyed, messy haired Gerard, who stumbled in carelessly, a wide smirk on his face.
"Hey." He slurred, brushing the hair from his face. Gerard was completely oblivious to what was going on as he trudged past, collapsing sideways on to his bunk.
They knew non of them could carry on the conversation now, which let Frank off the hook. Four of them nodded to each other, getting up and leaving the tour bus in silence. Mikey stayed behind for a second, shooting a look at Frank, one that meant he had to talk to him.
Sitting down, Frank let out a groan of frustration, scratching his head, making his hair tangled. He heard glass shatter from behind, which startled him, causing him to jump slightly and whip around to see what had happened.
There was a broken beer bottle on the floor, Gerard's hand was hanging off the side of the bed. Gerard had passed out and allowed the bottle to fall from his grasp.
Sighing, Frank wandered over it, careful not to tread on any shards as bent down to pick them up to throw them in to the bin.
"I'm sorry." A quiet voice mumbled from beside him, resulting in him jumping a bit as he hadn't expected the black haired boy to talk at all. He thought he had been rendered unconscious again.
Frank forced a smile, "it's okay." It came out like a whisper, but he hadn't intended it. His throat was dry from not drinking for hours.
"I-I can clean it up." Gerard offered, propping himself up on his elbows, trying to keep his eyes open, but they kept closing.
The guitarist shook his head, "no, it's fine. I'll do it." He trialed off, wondering how he was going to bring up the subject that had been discussed earlier. But, he couldn't. The singer seemed so innocent, Frank could imagine Gerard doing anything like that, it was hard seeing him drink himself to unconsciousness. Yet, there he was, slowly destroying himself bit by bit as the days passed.
"Ger. . . rard. . ." Frank stopped, glancing at the black haired boy, who was already asleep, breathing through his mouth with one of his hands hiding most of his face.
The guitarist swept up the rest of the glass shards, then chucked them in the bin. Thankfully, he hadn't trodden on any. He decided to just let Gerard sleep -which he seemed to be doing an awful lot of.
~
Finally, it was their time to go and perform. Frank had woken Gerard up just over half an hour ago. And, already, he was wasted. As soon as he had woken up, the singer had gone straight for the beer. Of course, Frank had supposed he would. The guitarist was mentally scolding himself for not stopping Gerard after his first drink, or before the liquid had even come in to contact with his chapped lips.
Now, they were all stood up on stage, the band playing the instruments quietly as Gerard talked over them, pacing back and forth on stage. "Alright." He started, running his fingers through his hair. "How many ladies we got here today?" He asked, receiving screams from the girls, who began jumping up and down. "I can't hear you. How many fucking ladies have we got here today?" More shrieks filled their ears, making Gerard's head hurt more than it already did. "I want you to do us a favour-" He paused, taking the mic away from his mouth as he coughed in to his hand, brushing his hand on his skinny jeans after.
"You're gonna be going to rock shows for the rest of your natural lives. Right ladies? And you're gonna see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands, who are gonna come up to you and ask you, to show your tits for a backstage pass. You know what I want you to fucking do?" He questioned, pointing the mic at the crowd for a moment as he walked to the opposite side of the stage.
"I want you to spit right in their fucking face!" He yelled, earning more screams from the audience. The music gradually got louder, until Gerard started singing along.
So far, Frank was positive. Nothing bad had happened, nothing had gone wrong. There was only one part that had been a bit of a downer. But, he had brought it upon himself, so he couldn't really complain. Half way through one of the songs, the guitarist had jumped up on to Bob's drums, causing Bob to shoot daggers at him, which then made Frank feel bad. Although, he couldn't really blame anyone apart from himself.
Mikey had been too focused on his guitar through most of the performance and had barely looked up from his instrument. Ray had been more active than that, but he didn't stand on any drums like Frank had done. No, he stuck to the moving about on stage and frequently singing along with Gerard in to a mic he had on a stand.
The black haired boy smiled a little as he screamed the lyrics, jumping about on stage and sometimes tripping up, but he had managed to catch himself before he fell over.
"I'm okay." He whispered. "I'm okay! I'm okay, now. I'm okay now-but you really need to listen to me. Because I'm telling out the truth-" He paused again, smirking as he stepped backwards, Frank stepping forwards. "I mean this, I'm okay."
The guitarist smiled, leaning in to Gerard from behind so he could speak in to the mic. "Trust me." In the moment, Frank let go his guitar and tangled his fingers in Gerard's hair before kissing his cheek quickly. It was over quite fast as Frank hastily grabbed his instrument again to continue playing.
For a second, Frank could have sworn he spotted Bert in the crowd, glaring at him with his arms folded, as if to say 'back off'. It unsettled him, so he turned away, putting his attention on to something else other than Bert.
~
After a long day, all Gerard wanted to do was sleep peacefully, yet, he found himself wide awake at one o'clock in the morning, staring in to the darkness. All he had on was a pair of old, ripped skinny jeans, which were starting to bag on him, a worn out band t-shirt and a pair of boots he hadn't bothered to take off yet. It was rather cold and Gerard was lying on top of the sheets, not bothering to get properly in because he had been debating in his head for some time, whether he should go outside or not. He'd always loved it at night, it was better than the sun - in his opinion.
Eventually giving in, Gerard climbed out of the bunk, made his way over to his bag, then unzipped it as quietly as he could. Hoping non of the others woke up, he fished out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter, smiling to himself when he found them.
Not bothering for a jacket, the singer trudged outside, silently closing the door behind him. After listening out for anything for a short minute, he lit the end of the cigarette, instantly putting it to his lips. As the smoke flooded his lungs, he relaxed a little, putting his head back to gaze up at the pretty stars.
The influence of alcohol had started wear off a couple of hours ago, so now he desired a new distraction.
Although, when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind, he knew it wasn't that kind of distraction he wanted. Gerard took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he listened, wishing to the stars for it to be all in his head. Blowing smoke in to the pitch black night, he opened his eyes again to watch it disappear, just as the footsteps stopped and he felt a rough hand on his shoulder.
~
He was being badgered, again. It was beginning to become a daily routine. For at least four days now, Mikey had been on his case, listening in on every word he had said to Gerard, though non of them had been the ones Mikey wanted to hear the most. Frank really didn't understand why Mikey didn't just confront his older brother.
"I'm not doing it, Mikes. I don't want to piss him off." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he turned his back on him, now looking out of the window. "If you want me to do it so badly, you do it yourself."
Mikey groaned out frustration, giving in a bit. "Whatever. Keep an eye on him, will you? Take care of him."
"Of course." Frank smiled slightly, surprised the bassist had to even ask. "I always do."
"'Cause you know I won't always be here to fix his mistakes."
"Where are you going with this?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Im just saying, I can't mend his mistakes by myself all the time. I need someone there to help me, to back me up, you know?"
The guitarist nodded in response, glancing back over his shoulder at Mikey, who slipped on his jacket as he told Frank he was going to meet Ray and Bob at the café they had discovered a few days ago. Honesty, the café wasn't too good, the coffee wasn't the best they'd had and the service was lazy, but, seeing as they didn't know the area too well, they settled for it.
All in a matter of seconds, he was alone, again. He didn't like the feeling of loneliness because it was depressing and made him shut off from the world for a little while. Usually, Frank switched his phone on and listened through his playlist before actually deciding to do anything. But, his normal actions of listening to music was put on hold as he spotted something annoying out of the window.
In the not-so-far distance, he could see Bert and Gerard out of the window -practically attached to each other. That alone made him shudder. As the guitarist went to pick up his phone, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
Gerard shook his head as Bert kissed his neck. Eventually, after minutes of Bert not listening, he tried to push the singer off of him, which resulted in Gerard's hands being pinned to the wall beside his head. "No pl-please don't." He said, shaking his head again. "I'm not in the mood."
"Yes, you are. Trust me." Bert replied, ignoring Gerard time and time again, until the black haired boy had had enough.
"Get off me!" Gerard shouted, successfully shoving Bert back and off of him before it got too out of hand. But, The Used singer wouldn't stand for that - in his mind, that wasn't acceptable. A loud sound joined the muffled talking from others as Bert slapped Gerard clear across the face, causing tears to burn the singer's eyes, his head being turned to the side with the amount of force.
Anger. Pure anger bubbled up inside of Frank. He was livid at the fact Bert would even think of doing that. No one else around was bothering to question it and continued on with their lives. The guitarist would have understood if the people would have appeared to have been busy, but, they weren't. So, it was left up to him to do something about it.
"Bastard." Frank muttered under his breath. Grabbing his hoodie, he headed out of the door and marched straight over to where the two were standing.
As he gor nearer, Frank could see the tears trickling silently down Gerard's face, the scowl upon Bert's face and the red mark that was starting to show on the black haired boy's pale complexion.
"What do you think you're doing?" Frank growled, scowling at Bert, who just shrugged.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He stated, acting all innocent, putting his arm around Gerard, who hung his head so his hair fell over his face.
"You know perfectly well." Frank snarled, growing tired of Bert already. It was unforgivable to him, yet Gerard seemed unfazed by it.
The singer stepped forward a little, raising his head to look at Frank through his dark hair. "It's fine, Frank, leave it. Please. It's fine." He begged with a desperate expression.
"No," Frank scoffed, "it's not fine. Gee, he hit you."
Bert laughed, tucking his hair behind his ears. "You're imagining things. I didn't lay a single finger on you. Did I?" He asked, turning to Gerard, who bit his lip, shaking his head hesitantly.
"I can't believe this." Frank breathed. "Bert, quit playing games. I fucking mean it. If Gerard says stop, you stop. You don't carry on until he has to physically push you off of him. Even then, you don't have any right to slap him." He exclaimed, gesturing the red mark on Gerard's skin.
"I guess this is wrong too." Bert smirked, confusing Frank, who was sent back, falling to the ground as Bert punched him square in the face, causing his nose to bleed. The guitarist stared at him with wide eyes, lost for words. The whole situation was ridiculous. "See you around, little man." The singer from The Used snickered, walking away, one hand grasping Gerard's tie to tug him along.
Frank put his hands under his nose to catch the blood as he stood up, unsteady on his feet. Words and further actions failed him, all he could manage to do was stumble back to the tour bus and clean himself up.
~
Like every other night, Frank was laying in bed awake. He couldn't blame worries this time, it was partially because Mikey, Ray and Bob were talking beyond the sound level for him to hear anything else. The amount of time he had told them to be quiet, were countless. Not learning from past experiences, Frank got out of his bunk - again - and trudged over to them, hitting them each on the back of the head with his pillow, somewhat playfully. "Some. People. Are trying. To. Sleep." He scolded, chucking the pillow across the room when he was done. It was only then, that he realised he would need it.
"It's not our fault you go to bed so fuckin' early." Mikey huffed, glancing over his shoulder at him from where he was sat.
"It's-" He paused, checking his watch, squinting in the dark. "Eleven... Fifty two."
"Well done. Now that we've established you can read the time, will you please go back to your bunk and loath us quietly over there?" Bob retorted, earning daggers off of Frank, who was fuming. Smoke could have come from his ears.
"We're doing another concert tomorrow. We all need sleep. People need it to function properly. And believe it or not, you do too. Unless I am correct in assuming that you're not a part of the human race." Frank responded, picking up another pillow and throwing it at Bob, which he caught.
Ray sighed, switching his gaze between the other two. "He's right. It's not fair. I don't know about you, but I don't want to fall asleep while performing."
Reluctantly, Bob and Mikey stood up, saying "whatever" in unison as they headed to their bunks. Ray followed, clapping Frank on the shoulder as they all shuffled past him, murmuring a "good night".
"For the love of God, finally." He breathed, climbing in to his own bunk, ready to fall fast asleep. Even though he was comfy, it was silent and there was the quiet tapping of rain to listen to, he remained awake. The fact that Gerard hadn't returned was making him anxious and worried.
What if Bert had done something else?
Pushing those thoughts to the back of his head, Frank rolled over on to his side and did his best to get some rest.
He was sure his friend would be fine.
~
Shortly, after the guitarist had fallen asleep, he was woken up by the sound of unsteady footsteps. Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up in his bunk. Staring in to the pitch black was no help. But, from where he was, he didn't think he could navigate the light switch or lamp. Assuming it was the singer, he called out in to the darkness, "Gerard? You okay?"
"I'm fine." Came the response from right next to him, catching him a little by surprise. Gerard sniffed, sitting down on the floor to take his boots off. A couple of minutes of silence passed before he spoke up again, "are-are you okay?"
Frank nodded, only then realising the black haired boy couldn't see him. "I'm alright... Why?"
Putting his shoes neatly in the corner, Gerard whispered, "you're nose was bleeding... Bert shouldn't h-have punched you... I'm sorry..." He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve before shrugging his jacket off and dumping it on the floor. He didn't bother changing his t-shirt or skinny jeans, so he got in to his bunk, wrapping the covers around him. "I-I shouldn't have stood u-up to him in the first place... Frankie, I'm really sorry..."
Almost immediately, Frank shot up in bed, nearly banging his head. "Gee, you had every right to stand up to him. He was treating you like an object to be played with."
The black haired boy took some time answering, "it's okay... I-I know he doesn't mean it."
The guitarist's lips parted slowly, his mind taking in what his friend had just said. He hated how Bert could get in to Gerard's head and manipulate him so easily. They both knew he didn't deserve to be treated that way. However, Bert had Gerard blinded. He had Gerard confused. "I don't want you to get hurt." Frank admitted, resting his head on his pillow, taking a handful of the material in his clenched fists. He swore, if he ever saw Bert doing something like that again, he was going to beat the hell out of him. Worst of all, he seriously meant it.
No further reply was given from Gerard as the boy was exhausted and drifted off to sleep easily. Though, it wasn't peaceful.