FicWad

I'll try to update this as often as I can. Thanks for the reviews, keep R&Ring?

Over the next few days, I hid away in my room. The curtains drawn, the light off. I didn't sleep, though. I didn't even lie in bed. No. I sat at my desk and stared into space. When I bothered to, I would pick up my pencil and my sketchbook. Never did my pencil touch the paper. Not once. It was as if there was a forcefield. Every time I had an idea of what to draw or even write, it flew out of my mind before the pencil could reach the paper.

I sighed as I heard a knock on the door. "Come in, Frank." Frank walked into my room and placed a plate next to my sketchbook.

"You need to eat. I'm getting worried."

I looked at the plate. A sandwich. "I'm not hungry, Frank."

"I don't care. Eat. And you know what? I shouldn't have to be telling you to."

"What're roommates for?" I mumbled.

"Very funny, Gerard. I'm not leaving till you eat."

I sighed and picked up the sandwich, nibbling slowly. I looked up and saw Frank watching me intensely. I crossed my eyes at him and took a bigger bite, which made him smile a bit. I finished the rest of the sandwich quickly, realizing how hungry I actually was. Frank chuckled and picked up the plate.

"Good?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now come on, we've got places to be."

"shit, Frank. I don't want to go anywhere."

"Well that's too bad, because we have to meet the guys to discuss the new album."

"Fuck."

Frank narrowed his eyes and takes my arm to pull me out of my chair.

"Gerard, seriously. Since when do you cringe at the thought of seeing the guys? Especially Mikey. He misses you. He's been calling every day. I'm sure you've heard the phone ring."

I had. I didn't want to face them. Not even my brother. I had a sudden twinge of guilt.

"Alright. Alright, I'll go. Get out so I can get changed."

Frank left and I went to my dresser to pull out some clothes. I dressed slowly, deciding against a shower. They were used to that from me, so why bother? I sat on the edge of my bed and ran my fingers through my hair. The dreams happened almost every night now. It was getting more and more difficult to distinguish them from reality.

It seemed a lifetime later when I looked up and realized I was in Frank's car. My sketchbook was in my lap. I looked to Frank and saw he was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He noticed me looking and glanced in my direction.

"I swear, you're like a ghost. I nearly had to drag you out of the house. We're going to meet the guys and when we get there, you're gonna pull yourself out of the depths of your mind and have fun. And that's an order." Frank chuckled at the sound of himself sounding so demanding.

"Everything's a joke to you. Alright, I'll have some fun." I found myself smiling.

We pulled into Ray's driveway and before I knew it, my door had been flung open and I was being hugged very tightly.

"Gee! I've been so worried!" Mikey pulled away and looked at my face, frowning slightly.

"Frank was right, you look like shit."

"Thanks, bro." I rolled my eyes jokingly, knowing he meant no offense.

"Well come on, we have some writing to do." He pulled me from the car and nearly dragged me into the house. I entered the small living room and looked around to see Ray and Bob smiling up at me from the couch. Ray was holding an acoustic guitar and Bob was hitting everything in sight with his drumsticks.

"Bob? What are you doing?" Frank stepped into the house behind me.

"Just keeping the beat in case we ever decide to actually start," he replied as he hit Ray on the head. Ray put down the guitar and launched himself at Bob, pulling him off the couch onto the floor. Mikey stepped over them as they wrestled and sat down in Bob's vacated seat. I sat next to him and chuckled quietly as I watched the scuffle. Ray jumped up and ran to the other side of the room, running his fingers through his bushy hair. Bob sat up and laughed loudly.

"I win!"

"Do not!"

"Alright, children," Frank sat in the armchair and clapped his hands like a teacher. "Let's get to work. Down to the basement or should we just sit here?

We all decided to move to the basement. I sat there and listened as the guys experimented with chords, beats, and rhythms. I barely noticed myself scribbling lyrics into my sketchbook. I was happily surprised once I did notice. Days of a creative brick wall and suddenly the lyrics come running forth.

An hour later, we took a break. Mikey walked over to me as the others went to the kitchen to grab sodas.

"Hey, can I see what lyrics you've got so far?" Mikey knew he was the only one allowed to see my lyrics before they were done. I nodded and handed him my sketchbook.

"No notebook?"

"Nah, guess I grabbed this by mistake. I haven't drawn anything though."

"Really? That's unlike you. Your colored pencils must be lonely."

I chuckled and nodded before heading to the kitchen. I walked in and saw Bob and Frank having a bit of a battle. Bob was holding a dishtowel and Frank had the sink hose gripped tightly in his fingers. Ray was standing next to the fridge and watching with a grin on his face. Frank sprayed Bob quickly and ducked as Bob rattailed him with the dishtowel. I stood next to Ray and smiled at him.

"Ten bucks on Iero," Ray challenged.

"Deal. You're going down."

Bob whipped Frank in the forehead and Frank slipped on a puddle of water, falling onto the floor. Bob roared in laughter and helped Frank up. Ray looked to me with a mischievous grin.

"Pay up."

I rolled my eyes playfully and reached into my back pocket. Mikey came up the stairs into the kitchen, carrying my sketchbook. Silently, he held it up for all of us to see. When I saw what was on the page, I dropped my wallet.

Frank's bloody face stared back at us, realistic and gruesome.