Learn From Your Mistakes...
Now, they were standing in a small cluster that made up the band, the newly blonde singer peering round the curtain towards the stage, eager to get out there. Watching the hundreds of fans, screaming and calling their names. Just the sight sent a mingled sense of fame and love for his band shoot through his veins.
And as the opening act jumped off stage with a racking thud to the stage, Gerard looking back towards the band with a small smile upon his face, "Ready to play-"
But he was cut short, but a sigh from his little brother and a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we know, Gee. Play our hearts out."
A visible snort came from the curly-haired man near the back of the cluster, holding onto his guitar with a loose grip as he laughed. "Don't worry, Gee - we will. Just like last night, and the night before."
And they did. They played their hearts out, just as Gerard had told the band to each and every time they mounted those steps up to the stage, slung their guitars over their shoulders, Gerard's face towards the crowd as he 'hopped about' onstage, as Frankie put it while snickering afterwards on their bus.
Sitting back on the old sofa, drinking a bit yet not too much - it wasn't fun to have a hangover on tour, as they knew so well.
Gerard's mind was blank, absolutely bleached out as he stared off into space from his spot on the couch. Staring off out of the huge window as he was interrupted from his whited-out mind from the sudden appearance of his skinny little brother coming through the door that led to the kitchen.
"Gee?" He asked quietly at first, head tilting to the side curiously at the state of his older sibling. Who didn't reply at first, only jerk his head up dazedly and look over to him before a smile set itself upon his face. "Yeah, Mikey?" He answered, glancing over to him with raised brows as he brushed the platinum hair from his face.
"Bert's here." He mumbled quietly, looking up to view the expression on his brother's face. First, it was joy, till his lips fell and curved into a frown, shaking his head softly. "Why's he here?" He mumbled after a few minutes, looking down to the rim of the glass bottle he was holding between his knees. "He said he wants to talk." Mikey shrugged, walking with light footsteps into the hallway, before pausing midstep. "You know, I don't think he'll be very happy if he's going to have to let himself in. I think you should open up-"
And then, came the banging he was expecting on the door, his unhelpful little brother shrugging lightly, before heading into the hallway with the slam of the door behind him. "He's your friend!" He called out before silence came, other than the slams on the old spray-painted door.
Mikey was right - taking the words apparently to heart as he left the bottle upon the coffee table, obviously about to make a stain but giving no time to let it, as he snatched it up once more with pale fingers. Dumping it half-finished in the already full garbage can on his way towards the door. Why couldn't his ass of a brother just open up already? Where the hell were Frankie, Ray, and Bob, and why couldn't they just open the door - that was all he wondered as he paused, before pulling the door open towards him and staring face to face at his old time friend.
Memories brought back just wanted to hug him, invite him in to play a mindless, drunken game of poker or something of the sort. But then it was when he realized they weren't friends anymore. Because if they were, they wouldn't be standing tersely and stiffly nodding towards each other curtly, formally.
He felt like such a prick standing there till he murmured a soft, "What do you want?" Putting it in the nicest words possible, even though they were far from kindly. A scowl folded itself upon Bert's lips, frowning softly.
"Well, if your going to be like that, then maybe you shouldn't know-"
Turning his back towards the blonde standing upon the steps, finally muttering a soft, "Goddamn, Bert." Before taking a rough grip of his arm, swinging him about to face him once more.
"Why did you come here? What do you want from me?" He said harshly, teeth grabbing a sharp hold upon the tender skin of his collarbone, realizing after a few struggled twists from the other singer that he had drawn blood.
Oh, shit - he didn't mean to do that. Not bite him so hard that he was going to get angry - just as he was getting now. Pushing his lean body upon the gravel, sharp little rocks cutting deep into his flesh upon his back. Toppling over him, fist meeting the pale, pristine skin of the highs of his cheekbone. Smacking, bruising, tainting his perfect skin with a resounding smack upon his cheekbone.
Himself letting out a soft cry, struggling under the heavier weight of Bert upon him, and all of a sudden...he was let go. Head knocking with a sharp crack against those damned rocks, as his friend bent over him, black locks swinging down upon his face, tickling that bruised skin of his.
"Gerard...I'm so, sorry...I don't know why I came here, I guess...I wanted to be friends again..." He heard Bert murmur softly, until his eyelids beat closed one more time.