Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Incendiary Heart
Chapter 5
14 ReviewsWaking from the nightmare...running towards the dream...
Chapter 5
I know the last chapter hurt some. But hopefully this one’s going to make up for it. Just wait and see…
When Frank awoke, he was not ready to open his eyes. He cursed the daylight he knew would be waiting on the other side of the tinted windows, even through the blinds. It didn’t have to reach him to annoy him. It was enough to know a new day was there.
Frank grumbled, rolling over to his side, a small task that he should not have been able to accomplish on the curved couch built into the back wall. Frank opened his eyes finally to find himself on an air mattress on the floor. The table had been unscrewed and removed and his makeshift bed was taking up the small back room. He sighed at the comfort it gave him, knowing he did not deserve it after what he had done the night before; what had been done to him the night before. Frank wondered who had moved him in his sleep. He was pretty sure he knew who it wasn’t.
The memory of the girl seeped back into his pounding head. The girl whose name he neither cared to remember or think about. His head was still filled with Gerard’s soft moans, playful giggles and the look on his face when he came out and saw Frank on the couch. There was something in that look he knew well. It was out of place across Gerard’s face though. Something like pain…awkward deceit. No…it was guilt. And Frank was not only glad that Gerard felt it…he was slightly happy to have gotten to see it on him.
Frank tossed on the air mattress, moving onto his back again as his weight floated over the tight air cavern, redistributing him across it. He felt like hell. This had to be hell. Frank shut his eyes tightly, trying so hard to block out the images of Gerard’s angry eyes, his furious tongue on his neck. It was horrible. He shivered, pulling the blankets up to his chin to ward off the monster of his memory.
The door opened quietly and Frank wondered how his friends could have such a sixth sense as to always know when he had just woken up. Mikey peeked his long lashes around the corner, testing the air to make sure it was all clear. “Frankie?” he whispered, more to see if it was safe than if Frank was actually awake.
“It’s alright, Mikey. C’mon in,” Frank muttered. They were going to have to talk about this sooner or later. He hoped it would be later, when the sun went down again, and he had something to hide behind. If Frank was lucky, Mikey would hold off. He held onto hope even tighter than the blanket.
“We need to talk,” Mikey said softly, closing the door behind him.
No, Frank was never that lucky. Apparently Mikey had decided it would be now. Frank pulled himself up, wobbling over the air mattress and punching his pillows into a backrest against the front of the couch as he sat upright. Mikey handed him some pills for his head and a glass of orange juice for his throat. Frank wished it had been coffee. He needed the burn now more than ever; to burn until there was nothing left of him but ashes to scatter on the sea.
Mikey backed his way to the door and sat down, leaning against it. Frank wondered if it was to have something to sit against; because he didn’t want to be near Frank anymore than Frank wanted to be with himself; or because he wanted to bar the way from any interruptions. Whatever the reason, they sat opposite one another, their quiet voices slowly filling the gap between them.
“About last night…” Frank mumbled.
Mikey nodded. “Yeah. About that…” And that is where they left for a while. It festered between them, thick like the tension the night before. And then Mikey added something to the space that did not seem to fit. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.
“What?” Frank asked, cocking his head in confusion.
Mikey nodded. “You blazed your way back here after the show and I knew you were burning a path with your fever. I left it alone cause I thought it might give you some kind of confidence to talk to him. Some delirious encouragement to know you were capable of more than you thought.”
Frank closed his eyes, sipped his juice and cooled the way for his words. “I’m exhausted from the capabilities I learned about last night.”
Mikey sighed softly. “Listen, Frank. Whatever you dreamed…you’ve got to see it from his point of view.”
“He made his point loud and clear,” he muttered.
One long finger raised in the air and Frank would not have been surprised if it was Mikey’s middle. But he just wanted him to listen as he held his index finger there, paused in suspension as he spoke. Mikey had the floor they were currently on.
“Listen,” he said gently without harsh order. It was more of an implored request. “I told you yesterday how this would go if you pushed him too hard.” There was the warning tone Frank had been waiting for. “I told you what would happen if you came on too strong.” And then the tone faded out into the steady hum of Mikey’s sweet voice again. “I talked to him last night. All night. For hours on end until I thought it was never going to end,” he sighed. “And all he knew was that you were sleeping against him one minute. And the next, he tried to get up without waking you. And I guess…he guessed,” he corrected, “you felt his warmth slipping away and it woke you from whatever you thought was in the middle of happening. But it wasn’t. You were the only one in progress at the time. Gerard just knew you grabbed him and threw him down and jumped on him. And he said there was a kiss.” Mikey bowed his head, talking down into his fumbling fingers over his lap, quietly hoping his words would still find their way to the man he could not face. “He said it was hard…mean almost. That it was hungry and to someone who’s been starving as long as my brother has…” Mikey shook his head finally looking up again. “Well it just wasn’t fair, Frank. Not to him or you.”
“Did he say anything else?” Frank whispered, almost afraid to ask.
Mikey nodded.
“Are you going to tell me?” he asked.
Mikey shook his head. “There’s nothing else I can tell you that wouldn’t break a brother’s trust.”
And that stung a little, because they were all brothers. But at the heart of it, two brothers shared the same blood. Frank thought back to the night in the middle of their very first tour. Drunk in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road by their broken down van as it overheated into the night. The five of them shared a blood bond, mixing together, holding hands like hippies, sealing them together as brothers for life. But years later, after all that had happened in between, Frank still knew that two of the brothers shared more blood than the rest. That was the way it would always be. And Frank could not hold that against them.
Frank sighed, closing his eyes and letting them rest. “I never meant to scare him. I would never want that for him.” He opened his eyes to Mikey again, making sure he could see that he meant it as he said, “I would never tease him like that. I meant that kiss. I wanted him to have it. From me. Like a gift.” He closed his eyes again. “I never thought he’d throw it back at me though.”
Mikey shook his head. “He didn’t, Frank. Gerard just thought you were messing with him. And it really hurt him like you can’t imagine.”
“Oh I can imagine,” he said sadly. “He’s not the only who got hurt last night. Remember?”
Mikey nodded. “Yeah. And so does he. He feels horrible, ya know.”
“No,” Frank said coldly. “I don’t.”
He bit his lip, pushing on despite Frank’s pain. “When he came out of the back room…it really hit him what he had done.”
“Well maybe he should’ve thought of that before he picked her up from God knows where.”
“No,” Mikey shook his head. “I mean what he’d done to you.” His eyes softened from chocolate to caramel, still just as sweet. “When he came out…saw your face, Frank…man. It really hit him. That was when he realized you weren’t playing around.” Mikey sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
Frank looked up, his eyes beseeching Mikey to continue.
“Up until then he was so sure you were just messing with him. Stage antics carrying over onto the bus or something. Just guys being guys and trying to make each other uncomfortable or something. Fuck, I don’t know where he thought it came from. But I know he didn’t think it was really coming from you. And by the time he saw the look on your face, the one that told him it was true, and he had just hurt you in the worst way possible…he fell apart. He fell apart on me last night. And all he could think about was you.”
Frank swallowed hard, searching for his voice beneath it. He whispered, “Did you tell him it’s true? That I meant that kiss? That I feel…something…for him?”
Mikey shook his head. “No.”
He was shocked. After all that? “Why not?” he asked with pained reservation.
The corner of Mikey’s smile crept up the side of his lip. “Because you’re my brother too. And I didn’t know what you wanted me to say.” He nodded to Frank. “I’d rather say nothing at all…than put anything out there to betray you.” He shrugged, “You can barely tell me your dreams, Frank. How could I tell him your deepest secret?”
Frank smiled; something he did not think he would do again for a long while. “Thanks, Mikey,” he shined. Mikey nodded and laughed it off but Frank pressed further, his smile fading, his sincerity showing through. “No really. Thank you,” he nodded.
“You’re welcome, brother,” Mikey smiled back. He lifted himself off the ground and Frank reached up for a hug. “Um,” he said, biting his lip. “No thanks.”
Frank laughed, “What?”
Mikey grinned, “You’re sick, Frank. And you’re not the only one anymore. So like the contagious little carrier monkey you are, we’re going to quarantine you back here.” He held out his arm with flourish, “Thus the air mattress bed for you and your bunkmate.”
“Bunkmate?” Frank questioned.
Mikey grinned, “And now that you’re not seething anymore, Bob and Ray can stop holding their breath up front alongside the infected one.”
Frank’s weary head counted through his friends, processing by elimination. Mikey, Bob, Ray… The door opened and Gerard’s grumpy eyes glared at Frank, a blanket pulled up over his head like a monk as he held it closed under his pouty chin. “Gerard,” he muttered. Even in light of what he had just learned, the memory of the last time he had seen him came back to haunt him.
The steel coffin of the bus was not strong enough to hold the buried tension of the homicidal minds it held. Their eyes shot daggers back and forth. The truth was out there but it was not yet between them, leaving everything unsettled and both of them disgruntled.
Gerard looked to Mikey with whimpering eyes. “You can’t leave me here like this,” he grumbled. “He’ll kill me,” he whispered.
Mikey laughed. “Dramatic much?”
He looked angry then. “You’re not just gonna banish me to the back of the bus, Mikey,” he grumbled.
He grinned and pushed him further inside, slipping out the door. “It’s for the good of the group, Gee. Take one for the team,” he laughed. “Love ya!” Then Mikey shut the door.
Gerard faced that closed door for some time. Frank just stared at his back, draped in the blanket. He knew what Gerard was feeling. Too sick to move; too tired to argue. Too embarrassed to turn around and face the person he had hurt. Frank felt the same exact way. Still, he was too embarrassed and angry to comfort Gerard so he kept it all to himself.
Finally, Gerard slowly turned to face Frank. His face was a ghostly pale as he shivered inside his blanket. “You gave me this,” he seethed.
Frank growled, “Maybe she gave it to you. What else did she give ya?”
Gerard snapped, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Frank dripped with anger. “I’m sure it’s nothing a trip to the Free Clinic and a good prescription can’t get rid of.”
Gerard growled lowly, unable to voice his anger in his weakened state. He dropped down to his knees and fell face forward onto the air mattress. The weight of the sudden drop bounced Frank an inch off the bed and sent him sprawling across it and over the side.
“Fucker!” Frank snapped, hitting the hard floor. Gerard giggled, his face still buried into the mattress. Frank was furious at his callous nature. He was supposed to come in groveling so that Frank could forgive him for scaring him. Then Frank would apologize for shocking him the way he did and Gerard would have the opportunity to beg forgiveness for what he had done; the part he could not take back. That was how it was supposed to go. There was no giggling. Not until they kissed and made up. Or at least made up. Frank was not sure there would ever be another kiss again. At that moment he was not thinking about kisses. He was considering giving Gerard a fat lip though.
Frank crawled up over the side of the air mattress. It was only maybe a foot off the ground but it felt like a mountain in his ill state. He growled at Gerard’s giggling fit and ripped the blanket right off him, spinning the man over and off the bed. Frank laughed heartily and it actually made him feel a little better to see Gerard cold and on the floor. When Gerard lifted his angry eyes to face him, Frank’s smile disappeared. Those were not eyes that you messed with. Those were Gerard’s tiger eyes that striped with anger and hovered between colors as he decided which strike to make. And the scariest part of all was that he had mastered antagonistic options to choose from.
Gerard crawled up onto the bed, stalking the mattress as Frank climbed up the other side facing him so they could meet in the middle, neither one giving an inch, or their plan, away. “We can live without a second guitarist,” he growled dismissively.
“Your voice ain’t so tough when you’re not behind a microphone,” Frank snarled, hitting him where it hurt.
Gerard lunged across the mattress, tumbling into Frank as they fought each other down to the bed. Gerard’s hands collided with Frank’s and it became more of a double arm wrestling match than a fist fight. They grunted at one another, expelling what little energy they had left as they struggled. Gerard pinned Frank down on his back, the larger man resting over his body. Frank’s upper arm strength lifted Gerard over him up in the air but he was shaky from feverish weakness. His arms trembled as they snarled at one another and finally Frank’s tired arms gave out. On any other day he would have had him. Today though, Frank was too sick to fight back. And Gerard was never someone he wanted to fight. His arms stopped pushing and Gerard fell down over him with a heavy thud that made them both groan from the impact.
“Get off me,” Frank mumbled from beneath him.
Gerard smirked, “Thought you wanted me to get you off.”
“Off!” Frank muttered angrily.
He kept Frank down under him as he grinned. “Not what you were sayin last night.”
“Gerard!”
He laughed and rolled off him, falling deliriously to his back beside him as they wobbled over the mattress like a water bed as the air shifted from side to side and settled beneath the distributed pressure. They both lie panting, shoulder to shoulder, lost for words and what to say even if they found them.
Frank finally found what he wanted to say and he breathed it out with labored effort. “You’re…an asshole…ya know,” he panted.
Gerard nodded. “I know…you…too.”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed in defeat.
They lay a while together, neither saying anymore, their heavy breathing not saying any less. Neither one of them had ever really been very good with apologies. Some sort of male pride thing had always kept them at odds with reconciliation. But they always found it somehow.
Once Gerard had thrown Frank’s shoes right out the window of the van. Frank had pulled over angrily and got out, walking barefoot up the highway, away from his shoes and the band who watched him in disbelief. Gerard had followed him out, finally catching up to him, the angry moment dispelled and diffused with enough breathing room. Gerard hadn’t said a word. He had shrugged helplessly, revealing the admitted stupidity of his actions and turned around, bending down, offering his back to Frank. Frank had smiled, unable to stay mad at him and climbed onto his back. Gerard carried him back down the highway and into the van. Gerard never said he was sorry. But when Frank woke up the next day there was a brand new pair of Vans on the bench seat, just his size. Frank remembered how Gerard didn’t eat more than chips and salsa for the next two weeks due to that expensive apology.
It worked both ways though. Once Frank had taken a few of Gerard’s drawings and colored them in with careful marker turning them from black and white sketches into full-colored flash for tattoos. Gerard had been destroyed, failing to see the compliment Frank was trying to offer. Frank had been devastated to realize he had taken Gerard’s only originals and abused them for himself. He couldn’t bring himself to say it though. Instead, he stayed up all night long, tracing careful lines over each piece, following their heavy indentations and inking the lines into place. It was not perfect and it was not the same. But Gerard forgave him for that due to his effort to make things right. When he found them on the table, Frank asleep over them from working all night, he could not stay mad any longer. He drew Frank a whole set of flash to color any way he liked and tucked it into his pocket to find. Gerard draped a blanket over him as Frank slept on the desk and kept him warm till he woke.
That was what they did. They fought and made up and there was barely a word in between. It was just their way. And it worked for them. It was about to work again.
Gerard slipped his hand into Frank’s between them and he heard him sigh with relief. Frank gave his soft hand a gentle squeeze and though it had not at all been said, it was certainly all done. Just like that, what had never really been started, was finally over.
Frank closed his eyes and promised himself that whatever followed would be a dream, and not one he should act on in any forceful way; no matter what. He felt himself drifting away almost instantly, relieved to feel the sleep coming for him. It was easier on everyone when Frank knew it for what it was; his dreams taking him over; his subconscious taking him on.
Frank saw Gerard sitting on the picnic table from two towns ago. It was still daylight this time though and evening was closing in, taking over. He remembered what Gerard had said in his dream even before that night; about being able to control your dreams and make them happen? Now Frank understood it. He wanted his dreams to come true. He wanted another chance. He watched Gerard closely and observed him as he got closer.
Gerard sat on top of the table, his feet on the seat as he stared at his arm in the sunlight. His fingers traced over patterns Frank could not seem to see. But he was tracing slowly away just the same. His dark hair shined like black corn-silk and his skin tanned against Gerard’s will. Frank smiled at that. Gerard had always said that ghosts were only supposed to burn in hell. He hated to tan in this life.
"Hey," Frank nodded, watching him there, Gerard's arm out as his eyes moved slowly over it. "What are you doing?" he asked softly, afraid of interrupting the strange mood and hypnotic daze.
Gerard shrugged but it was as if he moved in slow motion. "I don't know. Watching the way the sun moves over me as it sets. Can you see the way the light changes across me? The way it changes me as it moves? I guess I’m just watching it lay down and die across me."
He smiled, "Wow. That was deep." Frank giggled, though he had actually meant what he said.
Gerard looked up at him, a quiet surprise in his eyes that filled like sadness. He said softly, "It's not deep at all." He looked back down at his arm. "It's only on the surface," he whispered.
That was deep.
And then Gerard lowered his arm, taking the warmth of the sun with him as he slowly walked away into the evening's dusk. Frank sat alone on the table, thinking about what he had said. How deep did Frank’s feelings run? Skin deep? Down through to his soul? Was it his body that craved Gerard’s touch, or his heart that worshipped him back? How deep did his warmth for Gerard go? Frank lowered his head into his hands. He was still burning.
When he looked up again, the night was all around him. He looked around the lot for the buses but there were none. They had all left him behind. Frank felt the chill of the night in the absence of Gerard’s light. He folded his arms across his chest and went in search of his warmth.
He wandered down the street, coming to the broken wrought iron gates of a dead place. Frank stepped through to the path kicking up the dust with his careless footsteps and watched the clouds rise to mix with the fog that hung over the cemetery. It was strange to see the earth reach up to comingle with the air creating ghostly apparitions out of condensation and dirt.
Frank shivered as he strayed from the path, stepping between the stones, still looking for Gerard. “He won’t be here,” he told himself. “I’m more than one lifetime too early.”
He stopped where the moonlight shone through the clouds, piercing the veil of night. The white beam landed more sharply than softly the way it should have. It was like a spotlight across one stone. Frank made his way over to it, trying not to step on the dead, and walked around the stone to read it. There was no name or date. Only a strange epitaph and an obscure reference for time. It read:
Then – Now
Truth is only perception
Frank took a stumble backward, falling into another stone, shocked by its statement. It was profound, even for the dream he knew he was in. Frank shook his head, deciding to decode it later. He turned and faced the stone he was resting on, reading it over again.
Then – Now
Truth is only perception
Frank’s heart began to race as the fear crept up through his body, gripping his heart with a tight squeeze. He looked at the stone to his left, to his right, behind him and in front. They all read the same thing. The clouds parted, shifting in the sky, tentacles of light streaming down over every gravestone, revealing the same epitaph on all of them. Frank felt as though he was going to have a heart attack and he needed to find Gerard immediately. The urgency in his soul broke free as he began to run faster and faster, unable to find his way out.
Frank ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder in fear of something following him he knew could not be Gerard. While he was looking back, his feet running forward, Frank tripped over the steps to the dark mausoleum. He fell down as his hands reached out instinctively to break his fall. He stared down at the broken concrete steps only an inch from the eyes they almost cracked through. He turned his head slowly, facing the black boot tip beside him.
“Gerard,” he whispered.
And there he was, sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette with a smile. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming at all.”
Frank pushed himself up off the ground, sitting on the steps just below Gerard as he tried to catch his breath that now came out in soft puffs of steam as his body heat collided with the cold. “Did you see?” he panted.
Gerard smirked, taking a drag and blowing it out with his own warm breath. “I’m not as blind as you think I am.”
Frank asked, begging the question, “What do they mean?”
“What do you mean?” he grinned like a ghost, reminding him silently that this was Frank’s dream.
Frank shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked out across the moonlit stones, no spotlights on them now. “I think…” he said, trying to understand.
“Therefore you are,” Gerard smiled.
Frank looked back at him. “I think…”
“Because I feel,” he nodded.
Frank shook his head. He needed more focus not confusion. “I think…it means…what I always thought I knew…was wrong. From then until now…what I took for truth…was just my perception of what was real.”
Gerard nodded, taking another slow drag and offering it to him. Frank shook his head, too panted to try. Gerard shrugged and placed it to his lips where it hung from the corner as the lazy side of his lips drawled, “And what do you think now, Frank? Where do we go from here?” His voice took shape in the clouds he exhaled. “Will we become grave dancers? Will we bury this here? Or should we simply lay down and die?”
Frank watched him, Gerard’s pale beauty shining like the moon. His shadowed features drank in the light and reflected it back with subtle appreciation. “There’s too much for either one of us to bury by ourselves.”
Gerard grinned. Another drag. “Are you suggesting we keep it above ground?”
“I’m suggesting we allow it to live.”
A simple slow nod of agreement descended down Frank’s way. Gerard looked off in the distance while Frank followed his eyes. Bob, Mikey and Ray were carrying a casket through the night, between the stones and moonlight. They were dressed in suits, their hats blocking his view, but Frank would know them anywhere.
Gerard watched them as they moved. “Things are getting heavy out there. Maybe it is time we gave them a hand.”
Frank looked back up to Gerard with a soft smile. “My hands are your hands.”
Gerard smiled down at him, his cigarette gone, not even the smoke between them now. “I’m glad you know that now.”
“I know more than you think,” he beamed.
Shaking his head, Gerard responded, “I don’t think, Frankie. I feel.”
“I can do both,” Frank whispered, leaning up towards him.
Gerard grinned as Frank grew closer. “Your talents are wasted here then. Your merit’s no good if you’re grave.”
Frank was closer by the second, drawn in by Gerard’s smiling lips. He felt the panic rising inside him again as he moved forward and Gerard pulled back. He closed the distance hard and fast to catch him again. Frank was about to kiss him when those soft lips moved, just before he reached them.
“Goodnight, Frank. Godspeed.”
So here’s the deal. I’ve written twenty-one pages today and I have broken it into two almost equal chapters. I’ll post them for you, back to back, but only if you promise to review them both. It breaks my heart when I give all I have and people skip over one to only review the second. I worked hard on this piece and I hope you’ll appreciate my efforts. Thank you guys. Please don’t forget to rate and review! I’m far more likely to post two at a time again in the future if you show me you’re there along the way. Thanks everyone!! Xoxo Harley
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I know the last chapter hurt some. But hopefully this one’s going to make up for it. Just wait and see…
When Frank awoke, he was not ready to open his eyes. He cursed the daylight he knew would be waiting on the other side of the tinted windows, even through the blinds. It didn’t have to reach him to annoy him. It was enough to know a new day was there.
Frank grumbled, rolling over to his side, a small task that he should not have been able to accomplish on the curved couch built into the back wall. Frank opened his eyes finally to find himself on an air mattress on the floor. The table had been unscrewed and removed and his makeshift bed was taking up the small back room. He sighed at the comfort it gave him, knowing he did not deserve it after what he had done the night before; what had been done to him the night before. Frank wondered who had moved him in his sleep. He was pretty sure he knew who it wasn’t.
The memory of the girl seeped back into his pounding head. The girl whose name he neither cared to remember or think about. His head was still filled with Gerard’s soft moans, playful giggles and the look on his face when he came out and saw Frank on the couch. There was something in that look he knew well. It was out of place across Gerard’s face though. Something like pain…awkward deceit. No…it was guilt. And Frank was not only glad that Gerard felt it…he was slightly happy to have gotten to see it on him.
Frank tossed on the air mattress, moving onto his back again as his weight floated over the tight air cavern, redistributing him across it. He felt like hell. This had to be hell. Frank shut his eyes tightly, trying so hard to block out the images of Gerard’s angry eyes, his furious tongue on his neck. It was horrible. He shivered, pulling the blankets up to his chin to ward off the monster of his memory.
The door opened quietly and Frank wondered how his friends could have such a sixth sense as to always know when he had just woken up. Mikey peeked his long lashes around the corner, testing the air to make sure it was all clear. “Frankie?” he whispered, more to see if it was safe than if Frank was actually awake.
“It’s alright, Mikey. C’mon in,” Frank muttered. They were going to have to talk about this sooner or later. He hoped it would be later, when the sun went down again, and he had something to hide behind. If Frank was lucky, Mikey would hold off. He held onto hope even tighter than the blanket.
“We need to talk,” Mikey said softly, closing the door behind him.
No, Frank was never that lucky. Apparently Mikey had decided it would be now. Frank pulled himself up, wobbling over the air mattress and punching his pillows into a backrest against the front of the couch as he sat upright. Mikey handed him some pills for his head and a glass of orange juice for his throat. Frank wished it had been coffee. He needed the burn now more than ever; to burn until there was nothing left of him but ashes to scatter on the sea.
Mikey backed his way to the door and sat down, leaning against it. Frank wondered if it was to have something to sit against; because he didn’t want to be near Frank anymore than Frank wanted to be with himself; or because he wanted to bar the way from any interruptions. Whatever the reason, they sat opposite one another, their quiet voices slowly filling the gap between them.
“About last night…” Frank mumbled.
Mikey nodded. “Yeah. About that…” And that is where they left for a while. It festered between them, thick like the tension the night before. And then Mikey added something to the space that did not seem to fit. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.
“What?” Frank asked, cocking his head in confusion.
Mikey nodded. “You blazed your way back here after the show and I knew you were burning a path with your fever. I left it alone cause I thought it might give you some kind of confidence to talk to him. Some delirious encouragement to know you were capable of more than you thought.”
Frank closed his eyes, sipped his juice and cooled the way for his words. “I’m exhausted from the capabilities I learned about last night.”
Mikey sighed softly. “Listen, Frank. Whatever you dreamed…you’ve got to see it from his point of view.”
“He made his point loud and clear,” he muttered.
One long finger raised in the air and Frank would not have been surprised if it was Mikey’s middle. But he just wanted him to listen as he held his index finger there, paused in suspension as he spoke. Mikey had the floor they were currently on.
“Listen,” he said gently without harsh order. It was more of an implored request. “I told you yesterday how this would go if you pushed him too hard.” There was the warning tone Frank had been waiting for. “I told you what would happen if you came on too strong.” And then the tone faded out into the steady hum of Mikey’s sweet voice again. “I talked to him last night. All night. For hours on end until I thought it was never going to end,” he sighed. “And all he knew was that you were sleeping against him one minute. And the next, he tried to get up without waking you. And I guess…he guessed,” he corrected, “you felt his warmth slipping away and it woke you from whatever you thought was in the middle of happening. But it wasn’t. You were the only one in progress at the time. Gerard just knew you grabbed him and threw him down and jumped on him. And he said there was a kiss.” Mikey bowed his head, talking down into his fumbling fingers over his lap, quietly hoping his words would still find their way to the man he could not face. “He said it was hard…mean almost. That it was hungry and to someone who’s been starving as long as my brother has…” Mikey shook his head finally looking up again. “Well it just wasn’t fair, Frank. Not to him or you.”
“Did he say anything else?” Frank whispered, almost afraid to ask.
Mikey nodded.
“Are you going to tell me?” he asked.
Mikey shook his head. “There’s nothing else I can tell you that wouldn’t break a brother’s trust.”
And that stung a little, because they were all brothers. But at the heart of it, two brothers shared the same blood. Frank thought back to the night in the middle of their very first tour. Drunk in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road by their broken down van as it overheated into the night. The five of them shared a blood bond, mixing together, holding hands like hippies, sealing them together as brothers for life. But years later, after all that had happened in between, Frank still knew that two of the brothers shared more blood than the rest. That was the way it would always be. And Frank could not hold that against them.
Frank sighed, closing his eyes and letting them rest. “I never meant to scare him. I would never want that for him.” He opened his eyes to Mikey again, making sure he could see that he meant it as he said, “I would never tease him like that. I meant that kiss. I wanted him to have it. From me. Like a gift.” He closed his eyes again. “I never thought he’d throw it back at me though.”
Mikey shook his head. “He didn’t, Frank. Gerard just thought you were messing with him. And it really hurt him like you can’t imagine.”
“Oh I can imagine,” he said sadly. “He’s not the only who got hurt last night. Remember?”
Mikey nodded. “Yeah. And so does he. He feels horrible, ya know.”
“No,” Frank said coldly. “I don’t.”
He bit his lip, pushing on despite Frank’s pain. “When he came out of the back room…it really hit him what he had done.”
“Well maybe he should’ve thought of that before he picked her up from God knows where.”
“No,” Mikey shook his head. “I mean what he’d done to you.” His eyes softened from chocolate to caramel, still just as sweet. “When he came out…saw your face, Frank…man. It really hit him. That was when he realized you weren’t playing around.” Mikey sighed. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
Frank looked up, his eyes beseeching Mikey to continue.
“Up until then he was so sure you were just messing with him. Stage antics carrying over onto the bus or something. Just guys being guys and trying to make each other uncomfortable or something. Fuck, I don’t know where he thought it came from. But I know he didn’t think it was really coming from you. And by the time he saw the look on your face, the one that told him it was true, and he had just hurt you in the worst way possible…he fell apart. He fell apart on me last night. And all he could think about was you.”
Frank swallowed hard, searching for his voice beneath it. He whispered, “Did you tell him it’s true? That I meant that kiss? That I feel…something…for him?”
Mikey shook his head. “No.”
He was shocked. After all that? “Why not?” he asked with pained reservation.
The corner of Mikey’s smile crept up the side of his lip. “Because you’re my brother too. And I didn’t know what you wanted me to say.” He nodded to Frank. “I’d rather say nothing at all…than put anything out there to betray you.” He shrugged, “You can barely tell me your dreams, Frank. How could I tell him your deepest secret?”
Frank smiled; something he did not think he would do again for a long while. “Thanks, Mikey,” he shined. Mikey nodded and laughed it off but Frank pressed further, his smile fading, his sincerity showing through. “No really. Thank you,” he nodded.
“You’re welcome, brother,” Mikey smiled back. He lifted himself off the ground and Frank reached up for a hug. “Um,” he said, biting his lip. “No thanks.”
Frank laughed, “What?”
Mikey grinned, “You’re sick, Frank. And you’re not the only one anymore. So like the contagious little carrier monkey you are, we’re going to quarantine you back here.” He held out his arm with flourish, “Thus the air mattress bed for you and your bunkmate.”
“Bunkmate?” Frank questioned.
Mikey grinned, “And now that you’re not seething anymore, Bob and Ray can stop holding their breath up front alongside the infected one.”
Frank’s weary head counted through his friends, processing by elimination. Mikey, Bob, Ray… The door opened and Gerard’s grumpy eyes glared at Frank, a blanket pulled up over his head like a monk as he held it closed under his pouty chin. “Gerard,” he muttered. Even in light of what he had just learned, the memory of the last time he had seen him came back to haunt him.
The steel coffin of the bus was not strong enough to hold the buried tension of the homicidal minds it held. Their eyes shot daggers back and forth. The truth was out there but it was not yet between them, leaving everything unsettled and both of them disgruntled.
Gerard looked to Mikey with whimpering eyes. “You can’t leave me here like this,” he grumbled. “He’ll kill me,” he whispered.
Mikey laughed. “Dramatic much?”
He looked angry then. “You’re not just gonna banish me to the back of the bus, Mikey,” he grumbled.
He grinned and pushed him further inside, slipping out the door. “It’s for the good of the group, Gee. Take one for the team,” he laughed. “Love ya!” Then Mikey shut the door.
Gerard faced that closed door for some time. Frank just stared at his back, draped in the blanket. He knew what Gerard was feeling. Too sick to move; too tired to argue. Too embarrassed to turn around and face the person he had hurt. Frank felt the same exact way. Still, he was too embarrassed and angry to comfort Gerard so he kept it all to himself.
Finally, Gerard slowly turned to face Frank. His face was a ghostly pale as he shivered inside his blanket. “You gave me this,” he seethed.
Frank growled, “Maybe she gave it to you. What else did she give ya?”
Gerard snapped, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Frank dripped with anger. “I’m sure it’s nothing a trip to the Free Clinic and a good prescription can’t get rid of.”
Gerard growled lowly, unable to voice his anger in his weakened state. He dropped down to his knees and fell face forward onto the air mattress. The weight of the sudden drop bounced Frank an inch off the bed and sent him sprawling across it and over the side.
“Fucker!” Frank snapped, hitting the hard floor. Gerard giggled, his face still buried into the mattress. Frank was furious at his callous nature. He was supposed to come in groveling so that Frank could forgive him for scaring him. Then Frank would apologize for shocking him the way he did and Gerard would have the opportunity to beg forgiveness for what he had done; the part he could not take back. That was how it was supposed to go. There was no giggling. Not until they kissed and made up. Or at least made up. Frank was not sure there would ever be another kiss again. At that moment he was not thinking about kisses. He was considering giving Gerard a fat lip though.
Frank crawled up over the side of the air mattress. It was only maybe a foot off the ground but it felt like a mountain in his ill state. He growled at Gerard’s giggling fit and ripped the blanket right off him, spinning the man over and off the bed. Frank laughed heartily and it actually made him feel a little better to see Gerard cold and on the floor. When Gerard lifted his angry eyes to face him, Frank’s smile disappeared. Those were not eyes that you messed with. Those were Gerard’s tiger eyes that striped with anger and hovered between colors as he decided which strike to make. And the scariest part of all was that he had mastered antagonistic options to choose from.
Gerard crawled up onto the bed, stalking the mattress as Frank climbed up the other side facing him so they could meet in the middle, neither one giving an inch, or their plan, away. “We can live without a second guitarist,” he growled dismissively.
“Your voice ain’t so tough when you’re not behind a microphone,” Frank snarled, hitting him where it hurt.
Gerard lunged across the mattress, tumbling into Frank as they fought each other down to the bed. Gerard’s hands collided with Frank’s and it became more of a double arm wrestling match than a fist fight. They grunted at one another, expelling what little energy they had left as they struggled. Gerard pinned Frank down on his back, the larger man resting over his body. Frank’s upper arm strength lifted Gerard over him up in the air but he was shaky from feverish weakness. His arms trembled as they snarled at one another and finally Frank’s tired arms gave out. On any other day he would have had him. Today though, Frank was too sick to fight back. And Gerard was never someone he wanted to fight. His arms stopped pushing and Gerard fell down over him with a heavy thud that made them both groan from the impact.
“Get off me,” Frank mumbled from beneath him.
Gerard smirked, “Thought you wanted me to get you off.”
“Off!” Frank muttered angrily.
He kept Frank down under him as he grinned. “Not what you were sayin last night.”
“Gerard!”
He laughed and rolled off him, falling deliriously to his back beside him as they wobbled over the mattress like a water bed as the air shifted from side to side and settled beneath the distributed pressure. They both lie panting, shoulder to shoulder, lost for words and what to say even if they found them.
Frank finally found what he wanted to say and he breathed it out with labored effort. “You’re…an asshole…ya know,” he panted.
Gerard nodded. “I know…you…too.”
“Yeah,” Frank sighed in defeat.
They lay a while together, neither saying anymore, their heavy breathing not saying any less. Neither one of them had ever really been very good with apologies. Some sort of male pride thing had always kept them at odds with reconciliation. But they always found it somehow.
Once Gerard had thrown Frank’s shoes right out the window of the van. Frank had pulled over angrily and got out, walking barefoot up the highway, away from his shoes and the band who watched him in disbelief. Gerard had followed him out, finally catching up to him, the angry moment dispelled and diffused with enough breathing room. Gerard hadn’t said a word. He had shrugged helplessly, revealing the admitted stupidity of his actions and turned around, bending down, offering his back to Frank. Frank had smiled, unable to stay mad at him and climbed onto his back. Gerard carried him back down the highway and into the van. Gerard never said he was sorry. But when Frank woke up the next day there was a brand new pair of Vans on the bench seat, just his size. Frank remembered how Gerard didn’t eat more than chips and salsa for the next two weeks due to that expensive apology.
It worked both ways though. Once Frank had taken a few of Gerard’s drawings and colored them in with careful marker turning them from black and white sketches into full-colored flash for tattoos. Gerard had been destroyed, failing to see the compliment Frank was trying to offer. Frank had been devastated to realize he had taken Gerard’s only originals and abused them for himself. He couldn’t bring himself to say it though. Instead, he stayed up all night long, tracing careful lines over each piece, following their heavy indentations and inking the lines into place. It was not perfect and it was not the same. But Gerard forgave him for that due to his effort to make things right. When he found them on the table, Frank asleep over them from working all night, he could not stay mad any longer. He drew Frank a whole set of flash to color any way he liked and tucked it into his pocket to find. Gerard draped a blanket over him as Frank slept on the desk and kept him warm till he woke.
That was what they did. They fought and made up and there was barely a word in between. It was just their way. And it worked for them. It was about to work again.
Gerard slipped his hand into Frank’s between them and he heard him sigh with relief. Frank gave his soft hand a gentle squeeze and though it had not at all been said, it was certainly all done. Just like that, what had never really been started, was finally over.
Frank closed his eyes and promised himself that whatever followed would be a dream, and not one he should act on in any forceful way; no matter what. He felt himself drifting away almost instantly, relieved to feel the sleep coming for him. It was easier on everyone when Frank knew it for what it was; his dreams taking him over; his subconscious taking him on.
Frank saw Gerard sitting on the picnic table from two towns ago. It was still daylight this time though and evening was closing in, taking over. He remembered what Gerard had said in his dream even before that night; about being able to control your dreams and make them happen? Now Frank understood it. He wanted his dreams to come true. He wanted another chance. He watched Gerard closely and observed him as he got closer.
Gerard sat on top of the table, his feet on the seat as he stared at his arm in the sunlight. His fingers traced over patterns Frank could not seem to see. But he was tracing slowly away just the same. His dark hair shined like black corn-silk and his skin tanned against Gerard’s will. Frank smiled at that. Gerard had always said that ghosts were only supposed to burn in hell. He hated to tan in this life.
"Hey," Frank nodded, watching him there, Gerard's arm out as his eyes moved slowly over it. "What are you doing?" he asked softly, afraid of interrupting the strange mood and hypnotic daze.
Gerard shrugged but it was as if he moved in slow motion. "I don't know. Watching the way the sun moves over me as it sets. Can you see the way the light changes across me? The way it changes me as it moves? I guess I’m just watching it lay down and die across me."
He smiled, "Wow. That was deep." Frank giggled, though he had actually meant what he said.
Gerard looked up at him, a quiet surprise in his eyes that filled like sadness. He said softly, "It's not deep at all." He looked back down at his arm. "It's only on the surface," he whispered.
That was deep.
And then Gerard lowered his arm, taking the warmth of the sun with him as he slowly walked away into the evening's dusk. Frank sat alone on the table, thinking about what he had said. How deep did Frank’s feelings run? Skin deep? Down through to his soul? Was it his body that craved Gerard’s touch, or his heart that worshipped him back? How deep did his warmth for Gerard go? Frank lowered his head into his hands. He was still burning.
When he looked up again, the night was all around him. He looked around the lot for the buses but there were none. They had all left him behind. Frank felt the chill of the night in the absence of Gerard’s light. He folded his arms across his chest and went in search of his warmth.
He wandered down the street, coming to the broken wrought iron gates of a dead place. Frank stepped through to the path kicking up the dust with his careless footsteps and watched the clouds rise to mix with the fog that hung over the cemetery. It was strange to see the earth reach up to comingle with the air creating ghostly apparitions out of condensation and dirt.
Frank shivered as he strayed from the path, stepping between the stones, still looking for Gerard. “He won’t be here,” he told himself. “I’m more than one lifetime too early.”
He stopped where the moonlight shone through the clouds, piercing the veil of night. The white beam landed more sharply than softly the way it should have. It was like a spotlight across one stone. Frank made his way over to it, trying not to step on the dead, and walked around the stone to read it. There was no name or date. Only a strange epitaph and an obscure reference for time. It read:
Then – Now
Truth is only perception
Frank took a stumble backward, falling into another stone, shocked by its statement. It was profound, even for the dream he knew he was in. Frank shook his head, deciding to decode it later. He turned and faced the stone he was resting on, reading it over again.
Then – Now
Truth is only perception
Frank’s heart began to race as the fear crept up through his body, gripping his heart with a tight squeeze. He looked at the stone to his left, to his right, behind him and in front. They all read the same thing. The clouds parted, shifting in the sky, tentacles of light streaming down over every gravestone, revealing the same epitaph on all of them. Frank felt as though he was going to have a heart attack and he needed to find Gerard immediately. The urgency in his soul broke free as he began to run faster and faster, unable to find his way out.
Frank ran as fast as he could, looking over his shoulder in fear of something following him he knew could not be Gerard. While he was looking back, his feet running forward, Frank tripped over the steps to the dark mausoleum. He fell down as his hands reached out instinctively to break his fall. He stared down at the broken concrete steps only an inch from the eyes they almost cracked through. He turned his head slowly, facing the black boot tip beside him.
“Gerard,” he whispered.
And there he was, sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette with a smile. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming at all.”
Frank pushed himself up off the ground, sitting on the steps just below Gerard as he tried to catch his breath that now came out in soft puffs of steam as his body heat collided with the cold. “Did you see?” he panted.
Gerard smirked, taking a drag and blowing it out with his own warm breath. “I’m not as blind as you think I am.”
Frank asked, begging the question, “What do they mean?”
“What do you mean?” he grinned like a ghost, reminding him silently that this was Frank’s dream.
Frank shook his head. “I don’t know.” He looked out across the moonlit stones, no spotlights on them now. “I think…” he said, trying to understand.
“Therefore you are,” Gerard smiled.
Frank looked back at him. “I think…”
“Because I feel,” he nodded.
Frank shook his head. He needed more focus not confusion. “I think…it means…what I always thought I knew…was wrong. From then until now…what I took for truth…was just my perception of what was real.”
Gerard nodded, taking another slow drag and offering it to him. Frank shook his head, too panted to try. Gerard shrugged and placed it to his lips where it hung from the corner as the lazy side of his lips drawled, “And what do you think now, Frank? Where do we go from here?” His voice took shape in the clouds he exhaled. “Will we become grave dancers? Will we bury this here? Or should we simply lay down and die?”
Frank watched him, Gerard’s pale beauty shining like the moon. His shadowed features drank in the light and reflected it back with subtle appreciation. “There’s too much for either one of us to bury by ourselves.”
Gerard grinned. Another drag. “Are you suggesting we keep it above ground?”
“I’m suggesting we allow it to live.”
A simple slow nod of agreement descended down Frank’s way. Gerard looked off in the distance while Frank followed his eyes. Bob, Mikey and Ray were carrying a casket through the night, between the stones and moonlight. They were dressed in suits, their hats blocking his view, but Frank would know them anywhere.
Gerard watched them as they moved. “Things are getting heavy out there. Maybe it is time we gave them a hand.”
Frank looked back up to Gerard with a soft smile. “My hands are your hands.”
Gerard smiled down at him, his cigarette gone, not even the smoke between them now. “I’m glad you know that now.”
“I know more than you think,” he beamed.
Shaking his head, Gerard responded, “I don’t think, Frankie. I feel.”
“I can do both,” Frank whispered, leaning up towards him.
Gerard grinned as Frank grew closer. “Your talents are wasted here then. Your merit’s no good if you’re grave.”
Frank was closer by the second, drawn in by Gerard’s smiling lips. He felt the panic rising inside him again as he moved forward and Gerard pulled back. He closed the distance hard and fast to catch him again. Frank was about to kiss him when those soft lips moved, just before he reached them.
“Goodnight, Frank. Godspeed.”
So here’s the deal. I’ve written twenty-one pages today and I have broken it into two almost equal chapters. I’ll post them for you, back to back, but only if you promise to review them both. It breaks my heart when I give all I have and people skip over one to only review the second. I worked hard on this piece and I hope you’ll appreciate my efforts. Thank you guys. Please don’t forget to rate and review! I’m far more likely to post two at a time again in the future if you show me you’re there along the way. Thanks everyone!! Xoxo Harley
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