Gerard likes being famous. But what about Frankie?
Chapter 10. What Have I Ever Done To You?
When I got out of the shower, I was shocked that Frankie had left.
Why was he gone? I wanted to celebrate. Spin had named us best band of the year! Wasn’t he excited?
Then I realized that wasn’t what I’d told him.
I sat on the bed, thinking. Maybe it bothered Frankie when I talked about myself. I didn’t see why it should. I was the lead singer. I had people always looking up to me, always looking for a piece of me. I had to give it to them. If I didn’t, why should they care about me at all?
I liked being famous. I really did. I liked the cameras flashing, I liked being onstage and seeing people, a lot of people, screaming their appreciation. Someone was listening to what I had to say. Me.
I wasn’t really used to be liked so much. Why would anyone like me? I wasn’t exactly the nicest, I was kind of crude, I had a lot of issues. But now there were people clamoring to talk to me.
I missed being with Frank, though. I had a lot of times considered giving up playing music, just start playing for myself. Build a new comic book store, a bigger one. Be the owner/cashier. Chat with customers about the best villains and the arrival of the ever-popular manga that was started to steal Marvel’s thunder. I’d have Frank by my side all the time.
He always seemed sad now. When I looked around Hollywood, I rarely saw gay guys. Or, if I did, they weren’t the kind I wanted to be, like Lance Bass and George Takai (a.k.a. Tsulu). They weren’t anything like me. They were so commercial, so fake. I couldn’t let anyone know about Frank, or they’d hate me.
It’s not that I didn’t love him. I did. But it was like I’d forgotten how to show it. He was so amazing, so beautiful that I couldn’t contain myself. Was I doing something wrong? I thought that was how it was supposed to be done. I used to be so shy, so scared, so timid about sex, but now I was that stallion that girls would faint for. Was I wrong?
I didn’t get it. It’s like I couldn’t do anything without somebody getting pissed at me.
What would he rather I do? Hit him the way I used to? Demean him? Hurt him? Would he rather I turn the whole world against us? I wasn’t hurting him, I was protecting him! If someone ever, ever tried to hurt my Frankie, I’d die. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I didn’t stop them.
But what could I do? I couldn’t be wrong.
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