Sorry it have been so long! I havent had the time but here you are!
“We’re almost home,” Mikey says, drawing more consciousness into Frank’s mind. Frank looks down. The spot Gerard had been occupying is empty, leaving only the scent of his sweat and the impression of his head in the pillow as evidence he had been there.
“Where’s Gerard?” Frank voice sounds close to panic. “He alright?”
“He’s fine. He wanted a shower to wash off the remnants of his cold sweat from sobering up.”
Frank sighs heavily, trying to calm himself from the sudden rush of panic seconds ago. The bus pulls to a stop in the parking lot of the label’s production office. Just then, Gerard emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He heads towards the area Frank and Mikey are in. Frank eagerly gets up to greet him.
“Thanks for patchin’ up my leg,” Gerard says unemotionally, cutting Frank off. Gerard steps around Frank as if trying to avoid body contact.
“You’re welcome,” Frank replies, the confusion from the shift in Gerard’s attitude evident in his voice. Gerard grabs some clothes from his bag and heads back towards the back of the bus. Mikey shrugs his shoulders, somewhat shaking his head.
“I should ‘a warned you. He’s been like that since he got up,” Mikey nearly whispers. Frank’s eyes search the room as if he is trying to find physical answers. Gerard walks back into the room completely dressed.
“What time is the sound check?” he asks, his voice still void of emotion. Frank is unable to force any words out off his lips. His eyes dart from the floor to Gerard and back several times.
“At 4:30,” Mikey jumps in. “The show’s at 7, then we’re off for a week.”
“A’right. I’ll see you there.” Gerard grabs his bags and steps off the bus. Frank watches through a window as Gerard limps across the parking lot to his car, tossing his bags in the back seat after opening the door. He slowly slides into the car, obviously aware of the injuries to his leg, cranks it, and speeds out of the parking lot.
“What’d I do?” Frank asks, still unable to comprehend Gerard’s lack of emotion. Mikey just shrugs his shoulders again, turning the corners of his mouth down a little.
“Ray’s gonna come over for while, so we can unwind and play some ‘Gears of War’ before the show. Wanna come?” Mikey tries to take Frank’s mind off Gerard.
“Yeah, yeah. Sounds good,” he mutters in reply.
“What’s up with...” Ray asks curious of what he’s missed as he steps on the bus. Mikey cuts him off shaking his head no at him.
“Oh. Ready to get off this thing?” Ray hints at heading towards some needed rest, taking Mikey’s cue.
“Where the hell is Gerard? I told him 4:30!” Mikey shouts in anger.
“You know where his is,” Ray answers, not even looking up from his guitar.
“It’s almost 5. He better not be...” Mikey is cut off by Gerard’s loud entrance.
“I’m here. Here I am,” Gerard croons out, swings his arms wildly, knocking over the dead microphone. He is stumbling slightly as he turns it back upright and walks out to center stage. Frank can smell the alcohol that seems to be dripping from Gerard’s clothing as he walks by. A pang of guilt sinks in Frank’s gut. He watches Gerard intently, hoping he will make eye contact. Gerard swings around with a dance-like move, his eyes caught by Frank’s. He freezes as his expression drops from his face. He stands there just breathing. With the same quickness he had stopped, Gerard is reanimated, breaking his gaze with Frank. He swings on around towards the direction of Mikey and Ray.
“Are we going to put on show here or did somebody diieee?”
“Geesus, Gerard! You’re shitfaced!” Mikey is irate.
“Naw, naw,” Gerard slurs, waving his hands dismissively. “I’m just ready to rock some fans.” He looks around. “Are we gonna do this or what?”
They all take their places and struggle through the sound check. Gerard is sporadic in remembering the lyrics. Frank, Mikey, and Ray all exchange glances throughout the mock performance. All of them are thinking the same thing: this is going to be either really interesting or really messed up.
Once backstage, Mikey and Ray approach Gerard, hoping to sober him up a little before the show.
“Gerard, I brought you some coffee,” Ray offers, holding out the cup.
“What the fuck do I need that for?” Gerard half giggles. “I got a fuckin’ drink, right here.” He sloshes the amber liquid over the edge of the paper cup in his hand.
“Christ, G,” Mikey wails. “Is that more Goddamn liquor? How the hell you plan on performing tonight?”
“I’m fine,” Gerard words are more slurred than before. “Maybe you should have some.”
Hi! I'm so sorry that it took so long for me to write this, but here it is. My net has been like crap.