The band's lost everything...it couldn't get much worse...or could it?? Things always have to get worse before they get better, huh??
And these words just keep coming
And I‘m so done with running.
I just want you here
By my side
In my arms
With me here
Come back to me
Like these thoughts in my head.
Sometimes I think
I‘m better off dead.
Gerard ripped the paper from his notebook and wadded it into a ball, aiming and throwing it into the waste basket. Nothing seemed right. All the words he wrote were worthless and not going anywhere. It used to be different. Back when Fr-
NO! No thinking of him…it only led to tears…to sadness…to another two weeks of depression and questioning looks from Bob and Mikey. Of course, there would be looks from Ray, but he hadn’t shown his face to anyone but Bob in the course of one whole month. Ray stayed in his room, sunk into the deepest depression anyone could ever be in. It wasn’t like Gerard’s dystymic depressive disorder, easily corrected and controlled with one Lexapro pill in the morning.
There was no cure for this. Ray was /gone/.
Ray shuddered as a draft blew in from the slightly open window. It was cold. He debated whether or not he should get himself up and go close it. No…he’d just snuggle under the blankets farther. He pulled the black comforter up around his chin and pulled his legs up so he was in the fetal position.
Ray sighed and closed his eyes. They shot open five seconds later. Every time they were closed, images of Frank popped into his head. Why? Who knew. But they were there. And they were real. And they shouldn’t be there…but they were. But they shouldn’t… He tried to convince himself that they would eventually disappear. It’d been four weeks though, and they were still there.
He frowned. Wow, he sucked at convincing himself. He always shot himself down. Ray closed his eyes again. Frank appeared. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he seeing Frank? Ray shuddered as memories instantly filled his mind. Oh ya, that’s why.
Ray closed his eyes again, this time allowing the memories to play out. They were rushed and choppy, like an old VHS being fast forwarded. Frank with him in the hospital, Frank kissing him, Frank pleasuring him, Frank…/raping/ him-
“Ray?” Bob’s voice interrupted the thoughts and they quickly dissolved away. “You awake?” The door opened slightly and yellow light poured in from the hallway.
“Yea.” Ray muttered.
“Jesus, Ray.” Bob said as he stepped in. Ray just rose an eyebrow. “I forgot about the window. It’s freezing in here.” He walked over to the window and shut it, pulling the blinds downs and shutting the curtains. “You feel like coming down today?” He was referring to downstairs.
Ray thought about it. He really needed to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. “No…I better not…”
Bob jus sighed deeply and came to sit on the bed. “Please Ray, why not?” Bob tried effortlessly to convince him. Ray just shrugged.
He knew that eventually, if he persisted with it, Bob would just leave him alone. “I just don’t want to.” Bob rolled his eyes.
“Fine, I’ll bring you dinner later, okay?” Ray just nodded and closed his eyes again. Bob just needed to get over the fact that he wasn’t coming down ever…well, anytime soon anyways.
Mikey lost his footing as he ran into Bob on the stairs. “Shit!” He started falling backward but Bob grabbed him and steadied him. “Thank God.” He laughed. His wrist had only just begun to heal and his leg was still killing him. The cast was still on.
“What are you doing trying to climb stairs Michael Way?” Bob used his full name. Mikey stuck his tongue out.
“I was going to see if Ray would let me visit him for once.” Bob just shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, you always get to go up there and talk…and I don’t.” A hint of jealousy filled his voice for a second.
“I don’t care. I mean, you can try.” Bob grabbed his arm and helped him up the stairs the rest of the way. “Yell for someone to help you back down the stairs when you’re don’t okay? I don’t want you hurting yourself more than you already have, Mike-man.” Mikey nodded as he hobbled toward Ray’s room.
Bob turned around, taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing into the kitchen to help Gerard with dinner. Mikey faced Ray’s door and reached a tentative hand out to knock.
“What?” Came a faint voice. He opened the door slightly and cautiously stepped in.
“How you doing Raymond?”
Bob sighed and let his head fall onto the back of the couch. He rubbed his eyes, trying to erase and stop the dreadful dream that had been bringing wrath down upon the band for almost…well…who knew exactly how long. The only problem was that this wasn’t a dream. It was real…more than real. Painfully real. Bob shuddered. There was no climbing out of the hole this time…no getting back on the horse…no anything. He wasn’t going to make it out of this trench…nobody was. They were all pretty much hopeless.
Bob jumped as the phone rang. The caller I.D. showed up Jeffery. What the hell?? That was their old manager. He slowly picked it up and held it to his ear.
“Can I help you?” He started. Somebody cleared their throat. “Hello?”
“Oh, hey Bob. I was expecting Gerard to pick up…” There was a pause and more silence.
“Would you like me to put him on the phone? ‘Cause I don’t think he’s really in the mood to talk but I can try and get him.” He hated dealing with Jeffery.
“Yea…yea that’d be good.” Bob rolled his eyes before placing the phone on his chest and turning his head towards the direction of Gerard’s room.
“Gee!?” He yelled. “You’re needed on the phone. It’s Jeffery.” He heard Gerard moan and then the door opened and an unshaven, very unclean looking Gerard stumbled out.
“What the hell’s he want?” He mumbled. Bob just shrugged and handed him the phone. “Hey Jeff. Can I help you?” There was some mumbling on the other end. “Mmhm.” Bob pretended to not be listening in with interest. “Yea…I mean, I guess. It’s up to them though… Yea, I know Jeff. Yea…Mmhm… I appreciate. I know, I know… I won’t. Yea…I won’t… I won’t! Okay, okay. Thanks Jeff. Yea…you too. Later.” Gerard sighed and sat down next to Bob with a thud. Bob took the receiver and put it back in it’s cradle.
“Sooo…” He started.
“Jeffery said that uh…Fueled By Ramen called him today. It’s a small label…but it’s still a label, Bob.” Gerard didn’t have to say what it was about. Obviously someone was still interested in signing the band.
“Fueled By Ramen?” Gerard nodded. “Goddamn…that’s a small ass label.” Bob laughed and Gerard joined in. “I don’t know, Gee…I mean…”
“Jeffery said that Tooth and Nail called, also.” Bob’s eyes lit up. “Bigger than FBR, huh?” Bob laughed again.
“A helluva lot bigger. Not much…but yea.” Bob sighed. “What did they say?”
“Just that they were interested in signing us. They want an interview tomorrow at 11:30. I told Jeffery to tell them okay.”
Bob was shocked. Hell…it wasn’t Reprise…it wasn’t Virgin…but it was still a fairly large label. And any label was better than none. This was awesome.
“Hey…” Bob said in a sing-song voice. Gerard rolled his eyes.
“Hallelujah!” The both yelled.