the turnaround (Lincoln and insanity)
It truly was magical, I thought, and snorted.
I shuffled over to the magazines, my faux fur jacket clutched tightly around me as I scanned through the stacks and stacks of tips and hints and advice for any sort of hobby someone could have. My eyes trailed over the most recent issue of Blender, where I could just see the top of Gerard's blonde hair sticking up over the Entertainment Weekly placed in front of it and rolled my eyes.
I stopped when something hit my eyes. It was bordered orange and pale pink, and I reached down, plucking it out from it's fellow counterparts. The title at the top simply stated "M," and I looked curiously at the heading that caught my attention.
"How To Get Your Boy! Seducing Tips That He Just Can't Ignore!"
Disgusted with intrigue, I flipped the magazine open to the article the page mentioned. I was only reading the first lines when his voice filled my ear.
"Planning on seducing someone, Frankie?"
He placed his chin on my shoulder, and I barely had time to register the fact that his presence didn't surprise me in the least before I really understood the voice he used.
"Hmm, maybe. But I'm definitely not going to use this crap to do it," I said, contradicting my words by leaving the book spread open on my hands as my eyes raked over it.
He yawned widely, sending a light pressure down my shoulder. "And why's that? You don't like the advice of fourteen year old girls?"
"Not really. Since, you know, most of them are confessing the fact that they're perfect for me and that I should just hurry up and rape them."
He was holding a thermos of coffee in his hand. I could feel the head against my side.
"Yeah, well, you can't rape the willing, can you?" He looked over my shoulder at the article. "Oh, wait, here's a good one: "It's All In The Eyes, Girl!" Maybe you should try that one?"
"Gerard, there's no way in hell I'm taking romance advice from the pages of a pre-teen Dear Abby wannabe," I shook my head, laughing. "/No way./"
He pressed the side of his face against my cheek and neck, whispering in my ear, "Oh, you don't think you need it, do you?"
My hand falls down to my side and brushes against his fingers, and I'm internally relieved when he takes them gently, his warmth breath whispering against my flesh. I tilt my head back slightly.
"No, I don't think I do."
"Prove it," he hissed, and I shuddered. I knew the man at the counter was watching us curiously. I felt his fingers slide around my waist.
And then we're rather rudely pushed into the magazine rack, stumbling slightly as Gerard grasps my waist in one hand and reaches out to hold onto the shelf with the other. We both turn, glaring, to the cause of our misfortune.
"Oops," Mikey mutters, smiling nefariously as he continues on his trek towards the counter with his arms full of...crumb cake? We watch him go, mouths slightly open and eyes narrowed.
"Frank..." Gerard mutters, pushing away and steadying himself.
"Yeah?" I reply moodily, rubbing my back. Ouch, fuck!
Gerard studied the back of his younger brother thoughtfully, musing aloud. "How much credit do we really give Mikey?
"Not as much as he deserves, and yet much more than I want to give him."
Gerard simply smiled and pried the magazine from my hands. With disbelief, I watched him take it up to counter and place it on top of the stupidly abundant loaves of cake and pull out his wallet. I couldn't believe him.
And yet, I couldn't help smiling.
I'm not sure how it happened. Or why. Or for what fucking reason, but I decided to ignore the Gerard situation for now, even as it tugged in the back of my mind and tingled the tips of my fingers. I was itching for it, and I felt a shudder of pleasurable shame at the thought, coupled with a shot of guilt when I realized I hadn't called Jamia for days.
Wasn't she telling me about that new friend of hers a few weeks ago? Jeremy, or something? I uncrossed my legs and lay back on the couch, blowing out smoke and staring at the ceiling. Yeah. I was definitely not the only object of her desires. Right? Didn't she tell me about a party that she might go to? One of her friend's birthdays? Or, maybe her cousin. Maybe Jerry was going. Or Jeremy, I mean. Yeah. I just -- I don't know. Am I making all of this shit up?
I groaned and ran a hand across my face. Fuck.
Ray stepped inside the bus, allowing me to catch a small glimpse of the fading daylight before the door was shut. We played an early set today, which left time for us to relax, maybe see some of the sights.
Or, sit in the bus smoking a cigarette, and trying to figure out your feelings for your apparently not-so-straight friend.
"Nah, I'm good," I replied, sitting up. "Where is everyone?"
Ray tossed a couple of magazines on the table and scratched his head distractedly. "Gerard and Mikey are with some of the fans and a few interviewers, I think, and Bob's with Melony."
I cocked my head. "Melony?"
I took another drag before stuffing it out in the ashtray that sat against the couch. I felt drained in this bus, and I had no idea why; usually it's comforting, peaceful, relaxing--I mean, it's fucking home -- but I felt lethargic and fidgety at the same time. I needed out.
"Listen, I'm going to... go take a walk or something. Don't leave without me, 'kay?"
Ray smiled. "Never."
The cool breeze that hit my face when I stepped off the bus was not only uplifting, but damning. Like those damn cigarettes. They kill you just to keep you alive.
The parking lot still had random pacts of kids swarming here and there for merchandise or recognizable faces. I saw a couple of the guys from Rise Against signing fans' shoes and shirts and CD's, and they waved when catching my glance. I nodded and smiled in response and turned away before anyone might recognize me. I wasn't normally this antisocial with the fans, but recently...I've had too many things to think about.
A few did get hold of me, though. I posed for a couple of pictures, answered a few questions, signed a few things, and then I was free. With dusk finally settling in, I turned a far corner near the chain-link fence and started down the opposite side, figuring I might as well circle back to the bus.
A lone light from the top of the roof cast a fake yellow glow on the walls and blacktop, giving my arms a strange orange tint. It was nearly empty back behind the building, with only a few dumpsters and lone boxes keeping the wall and fence company.
I jumped, almost tripping over myself in doing so, and looked around.
Or, was it a different one? He looked older. More...cunning?
His styled hair swarmed with the hazy colours of the lamp as he stepped out from the shadows of the unused dumpsters. I raised an eyebrow and nodded at him. What the fuck was he doing back here?
"Hey. Enjoy the show?
The kid smirked and took several steps closer. I could barely hear him move, even as I heard the gravel beneath my own feet cackle as I shifted.
"Oh, I didn't come for the show," he stated, shrugging his shoulders lightly. One foot in front of the other. No sound. He was most definitely moving, but...it felt almost liquid.
I looked around, my nerves jumpy still, and kept up the casual conversation until I could think of a way out of it. "Really?"
"Nah." His face was perfectly flawless, I saw, before realizing that I shouldn't know from this distance and this light. He seemed to sink and radiate simultaneously. He sunk into the shadows and radiated...something was coming from him. Energy that made me increasingly nervous. I felt my blood pulsing quicker.
"Why did you come, then...?"
"Lincoln," the boy said. "My name is Lincoln. And I came for you, Franklin Iero."
I grimaced. He wasn't some pervert, was he? Shit, this kid must be under eighteen years.
"Hmm. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Lincoln, but when I'm not doing a show, I'm a rather uninteresting person. So, you know, maybe next time I'll see you in the crowd. See you."
I turned back the way I came and started to walk away, my mind made up that I wouldn't turn around no matter what this fucking kid said to me. I was creeped out, to say the least, and something about his voice and demeanor disturbed me deeply.
"Why does the bird sing when it's about to die a lonely life?"
I stopped. My heart jolted. Before I knew what I was doing, I had turned around to face him.
"Because there always were too many fish in the sea..."
The words poured from my mouth like smoke, but I had no idea where they had come from. I racked my brain and my fingers twitched, and I stared at this kid--Lincoln?--with an incredulous expression.
"What...?" I asked, bewildered.
He smiled. "It's good to see you, Frank. Do you know who I am?"
"I don't know you, you fucking freak," I spat, disturbed with myself and still racking my brain to figure out where I had heard that before. A movie? A lyric? "Now tell me what the fuck you just said--tell me what it meant!"
I was yelling, half from the hope that someone might hear me and half because I was...I was fucking scared. This kid's voice burrowed deep into my veins and bloodstream and settled there, coursing through my body until I shivered with uncontrollable fear and unease.
Lincoln grinned mischievously--a face that sent chills straight to every bone in my body. "But you answered me...at least you're not dense enough to forget what you were told."
I stared, shaking my head.
"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed, my outburst surprising even me. The darkness was growing steadily, and I had already forgotten which way I had come and which way I was facing. I gripped my hair tightly in one hand and looked around frantically, my eyes repeatedly coming back to Lincoln, uneasy and frightened.
"I don't know you. You're a fucking trip, kid. Lay off."
He didn't move. I turned and walked in a the direction of what I hoped to be the way back. I couldn't hear his footsteps over the rapid beating of my own heart. I looked behind me.
He was but two feet from me.
I jumped back, stumbling in the darkness.
"What the fuck do you want?! Get the fuck away from me!"
Lincoln just smiled. "You know what the elders used to say? They say "there is one that can prevent it. One that can resist. One that will stop the inevitable and postpone our judgment day." They called it The Prophecy."
"What do you want...what..."
I backed away, my head in my hand. His presence was making me nauseous, fatigued, cold. Freezing. I had no idea what he was saying. White noise. Lincoln stepped closer with each step I took backwards.
"I've waited too long. I've allowed you to discover your strength--the one thing that will be deadly to me, to /us/. But I..." he smiled, laughing lightly. "I've come to stop it. Welcome, Franklin..."
He shoved me against the fence with strength uncanny for a kid so young, and bent his face close to mine. I stared back, pertrified. A flash of light from a distant car illuminated his face for only a second, but long enough for what I saw make me gasp in horror and disbelief.
I finally regained controlled of my body as his mouth started to descend upon my neck. I felt his hot, smooth breath and snapped back into consciousness, kicking the kid away from me. He crouched down, winded and obviously surprised. I took my chance and bolted, turning the corner at top speed and racing all the way back to the bus, not even daring too look over my shoulder or stop when several people called my name.
I did not believe what I just saw.
I could not.
Sorry about... how fast that scene moved. I'm not too good with climaxes [no pun intended]. Funny thing? I used to read M, years ago, haha.