LSD = Lead Singer Disorder (it's from the Heroin Diaries by Nikki Sixx)
The night was as ordinary as any of the ones had been during the past few weeks. The fans were hyped up and enthusiastic as they asked for autographs. Teenage girls swooned at just the slightest smile from Mikey Way, or the smallest bounce of Ray Toro’s russet tinted afro. There was an enormous response for, “Get that thing out of my face!” credited to Bob Bryar hiding from the cameras. But what received the most cheering was what fans liked to call “Frerard.” It happened after every show; blinding lights would beg for the shortest intimate moment between Frank and Gerard. The fans hardly received any of these offstage. Tonight was different. Gerard nibbled on Frank’s neck freely, not caring who saw or what they thought of it. All he knew was that Frank was hot, and he didn’t seem to mind the kissing. So what the fuck, right?
Oh, but Frank minded. He was simply pissed out of his mind. He had to use every ounce of willpower in him to prevent him from knocking Gerard out. He knew he had to be calm. There was something going terribly wrong with his best friend, and getting angry probably wouldn’t help him. But as Gerard’s warm lips pressed against his skin his aggravation grew. He knew that every one of those kisses were out of pure lust, nothing else. His fists balled, clutching all his anger between calloused fingers.
The rest of the band too, had been noticing changes in Gerard over the period of their tour so far. At first it had been subtle, just tiny little smiles of pride. Tonight, though, Gerard had gone from the quiet, shy, often depressed man they knew to this...this freaky guy who grinned like the Cheshire cat! None of them took his happiness as mere happiness. There was something else to the way he was behaving. It was almost like... arrogance.
Mikey gave his brother a weird look, thinking about this. Gerard could barely stay in his seat. If there were walls surrounding him, he would have been bouncing off them. It was like a giant cauldron of ecstasy, brewing inside him. Mikey raised an eyebrow, noting what Gerard was doing to the fan girls. Whenever he wasn’t slobbering all over Frank, Gerard would give one of the more attractive fans a flirtatious wink. They, of course, adored this but Mikey found it creepy. It made Gerard seem like some sort of pedophile.
Eventually, the crowd thinned out as satisfied fans took started walking towards their vehicles. There were only a couple of people waiting to be signed off. Gerard rested his chin on his palm as he scribbled his signature on some girl’s picture of his band. He wasn’t really sure what exactly he had been signing this past night. Random phrases just popped into his head, moving directly from his hand to his pen; his brain wasn’t really involved. Watch out for flying shit. Love you lots, Gee Way. The girl squealed happily, reading this before moving over to Ray. The guitarist eyed Gerard’s message with a curious expression. Gerard yawned, apparently bored. Sometimes, he got pretty sick of meeting fans. His mind began to wander off to the tour bus, to his bed, under the covers, where his special cure lay, all alone. He needed to be with it soon, he needed some more joy in his life. His eyes wandered up to the next fan, whose footsteps had ceased in front of him.
He shot up with a jolt, staring at the girl. She was strikingly different from all the other fans. Everyone at the shows usually imitated or improvised the band’s style; wearing thick eyeliner, unnaturally paled faces, dark clothing, with dyed hair, and side bangs, looking overall dead. This girl though, wore a light pink flowered shirt, with the most preppy looking sparkly jeans underneath. Her curly golden-brown hair fell to her shoulders loosely around her long face. She stood with a notebook clutched to her chest, staring at the previous fan, who was still in front of Ray. Gerard wasn’t trying to stereotype, but that was essentially what he was doing. She appeared, by definition, to be the exact opposite of a My Chemical Romance fan. He wondered if she was really a fan. Maybe she was and she merely was a non-conformist. He could appreciate that.
Gerard decided to give her a chance. She was kind of hot. “Hey, I could sign that while you’re waiting for Toro.”
Her head tilted over to Gerard, as if she had just noticed him. He concluded from her face that she was probably around twenty. He smiled pleasantly at her, waiting for a reply.
“Um, no,” she said, blushing shyly.
Gerard was not quite sure what to make of it until he noticed a camera in her pocket, “Oh. Do you want a picture then?”
She shook her head, “It's okay, thanks.”
He frowned as his muscles tensed up. What the fuck was this chick's issue? “If you don't want our autographs and don't want our pictures, why are you even here?”
The girl's eyebrows furrowed. “I said I don't want your autograph. I want theirs,” she gestured towards his band mates.
Gerard could feel rage building up from the pit of his stomach, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm part of this band just as much as they are.”
The fan shrugged indifferently and set her notebook down in front of Ray. Her hazel eyes twinkled with admiration at the curly haired fellow. That look was supposed to be reserved for him. Gerard's fists balled and slammed down on the table. All eyes fell on his face, which was turning red with anger. He stood up to his full height, looming a few inches over the poor girl.
“Let me sign your book,” he demanded.
“Gee,” Frank said in a warning tone, “She said she didn't want you to. Calm down.”
“No! Fuck that!” the singer whirled around, now facing his friend, “Just because you're a little pussy who takes crap from people doesn't mean I will, too!”
“What's wrong with you?” he heard the girl yell incredulously, “How can you talk to your best friend like that?”
“This is none of your business,” he said in a calm and cold tone, “I'll talk to him however the fuck I want.”
His band mates stared at him in the same look of disbelief that was plastered on the fan's face. What on earth was going on with him? He had been on the edge with all of them in the recent past. But to a fan? At times, everybody's temper got to them; that was understandable. But for Gerard to make such a big deal about something so trivial was crazy. His friends couldn't help but wonder if he was turning into an egomaniac. All except Frank, that is. Frank was merely suspicious. He stared a little closer than the others, noticing Gerard's dilated pupils, his restless manner.
“You're such an asshole,” the girl spoke finally, “You think you're so cool just because you stand up front and wail into a microphone, but you'd be just another washed up singer if it weren't for your friends. I used to think you actually meant it when you preached about treating people fairly, but I guess that was all just a load of bullshit! You don't deserve to be in this band.”
With that, she snatched her notebook from the table and furiously marched away from the table, not turning back even once.
Gerard sat back down and smirked, staring after her and spitting out, “What a bitch. Can you believe her?”
There was a long, astonished silence before Mikey took the initiative to speak, “Gee, what the fuck was that all about? How could you be so rude to her?”
“She didn't want my autograph!” the older Way argued weakly.
Frank frowned, whispering something into Ray's ear. Ray bit his lip, nodding in agreement.
Gerard's head sharply turned to them, “What the fuck are you saying about me Iero?”
“I was talking to Ray.”
Once again, Gerard rose to his feet, gritting his teeth, “Why don't you come over here and say it to my fucking face, stumpy?”
Frank scoffed, “Stumpy... Like I haven't heard worse.” He stood up proudly though he felt a bit inferior. As he did many times during his high school career, he cursed his stupid genes. However, he wasn't going to allow Gerard the satisfaction of knowing that, “But you know what? I will say this to your face. Whoever that chick was, she's right. You're turning into a complete douche bag. This band is about more than just you. I don't know what the hell has gotten into you these days, but don't count on hiding it from us, because we're gonna find out soon enough. If you keep going like this, you're gonna end up all alone and no one's gonna give a shit. Especially not me.”
Seeing the cold hard rage that shone in Gerard's expression and his curling fist, Mikey nervously piped up, “Frank, stop it. Now you're being an asshole.”
Gerard shook his head, calmly brushing it away, “I just have one thing to say to you, Frankie.” he gave the short man a slight shove, causing him to stumble backwards, “Suck. My. Dick.”
He turned on his heel and stormed off in the direction of the tour bus.
“I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?!” Frank called after him.
His heart pulsated loudly in his chest. He had half the mind to go back and beat Frank to a pulp. What held him back was his longing for some beer. The experts said that drugs and alcohol didn't make a very good combination, but Gerard begged to differ. Although the mixture was deadly to his body, it was pure bliss for his mind. He could snort away all his self-doubt and drink away all his anger. It was the perfect concoction, if you asked him.
Read/Rate/Review. Thanks everyone who read so far. I'm too attached to the original version to delete it :) so it's staying. Read this if you wanna read it like normal, though.