FicWad

This hasn't been beta-d, but if I don't get this up now, I probably won't have a chance to post until Monday. My cousins are coming for the weekend :( My Katy Perry, Nicky Minaj, David Guetta loving cousins. Who haven't even heard on Nirvana. And dress like old Grannies 'cos they think it's cool.

Yeah, I get along well with them.

Ohhhh, welllll. I will survive! Yeah, yeah!

Enjoy chapter... 7.

Putting no money on that though.

Sx


Over the next few months on tour, things got better. Frank and Gerard got over their petty argument quickly enough, and their friendship remained as strong as ever, just with more angst. That was to be expected though, after all, both fancied the other man, but were just too ashamed to let on.

Mikey and Ray were tempted to ask about this. They had their suspicions about both, and the bassist was pretty damn sure about his brother, but neither was putting any money on Iero returning those feelings. They helped Gerard get through things, but mostly left it to Frank, in the hope that something would happen.

However, what none of the band knew was that their singer was now in regular correspondence with Bert McCracken. After meeting Gerard in the hotel room that night, The Used's frontman knew a lot more than any in My Chem about what Way had been up to. Because of this, Gerard felt a lot more comfortable talking to him and the two spoke over the phone, sometimes every other night. The younger man found it slightly irritating, but didn't want to lose Way again so soon after regaining their friendship.

The band travelled to Europe, and visited a few countries in Asia. On Gerard's part, each show was better than the last. He was becoming more and more confident with every one, and was even beginning to venture out into the crowd, to the delight of the fans. He was wearing make-up to most shows now as well, and on top of that him and Frank had started with the 'stage gay' again. This amused the other band members no end, and the two got some teasing about it. They didn't really care though.

On top of that, every noticed how much better Way was looking and behaving compared to at the beginning of the tour. He'd put on a bit of weight, and rarely disappeared at night anymore. He never had anymore weird whispering bouts, and was a lot more confident around his friends, joking more openly with them.

Now, it was two nights before the end of the tour, and they happened to be in the same city as The Used. So of course, Gerard and Bert arranged for the two bands to meet up. The My Chemical Romance guys were all surprised by this - as far as they were concerned, the other group was still pissed at them after the arguments between the two frontmen.

The Used knew what was going on - McCracken had told them about his meeting with the other singer - but My Chem were clueless. It took Way a good half hour to explain to them he had been in contact with the younger man for a couple of months now, and they were perfectly friendly.

In the end, they agreed to go, but were annoyed at Gerard for not telling them that he had been in contact with Bert sooner. It wasn't that they were trying to control him - it was just nice to know the ridiculous feud was over.

The two bands met up in a small diner on the outskirts of Chicago, somewhere they hoped they could pass unrecognised. Quinn happened to know the bartender, and had been there a few times, and was fairly confident that no one would approach them.

So the eight men packed in to a small booth, ordering drinks and food as they caught up with each other. The atmosphere was slightly awkward, but that wasn't surprising - the last time all of these men had been in the same place and the same time, they'd hated each other's guts. The years that had passed had somewhat buried that, but making conversation was still slightly strained.

However, The Used asked for some more (very alcoholic) shots, and after a few had been downed, it was like the eight had never argued, never mind spent the last six or seven years pointedly ignoring one another.

Quinn, Jepha and Ray ended up arguing about some stupid TV series that no one else watched; Dan and Mikey were waffling on about Indie bands; and Bert and Gerard were just bullshitting about everything. Unfortunately for Frank, he was trapped in the corner of the booth, with Way opposite him, and the other singer next to him. This effectively cut him off from all other conversation and he didn't feel comfortable joining in with that of the two frontmen. Partially because he had no fucking idea what they were actually on about, but mostly because this was the drunkest he'd seen his friend in years. It seemed being around the other band - who were fully prepared to consume their body weight in alcohol on a daily basis - was a prompt for Gerard to get pissed.

"I haven't done anything!" Way was currently protesting, in a slurred voice.

"Sure." Bert rolled his eyes. He was more sober than Gerard, despite having consumed more. Well, that wasn't surprising - the older man had barely touched alcohol for years so was going to be a bit of a light weight. "Have you told anyone?"

"No! Why would I? It's under control."

"Whatever man." McCracken snorted, clearly not believing the other singer. "Hey, have you seen that new movie? The one with all those superhero type people?" He changed the subject at the speed of light, but it was too late - the short conversation had caught Frank's attention. As the guitarist felt that there was a lot of things that Gerard wasn't sharing with him at the moment, he was curious, and slightly offended that Way had chosen to share with Bert, as opposed to him.

"No, what do you mean?" He cut in, over the singer's answer. "What are you not telling us?"

"Nothing." Gerard replied. "Bert's just being a dick." He glared pointedly at the aforementioned, who held up his hands in defence and shook his head. And that was all, Iero could get out of either of them.

The night carried on, and everyone was getting more and more drunk. It was like being back to just before either band got big - they were just pissing the night away, not thinking about tomorrow and simply having a good time with old friends. It was almost refreshing.

After a while, they made their way to some metal club, where they continued to drink - Frank more so than anyone else.

He knew it wasn't a good idea, but he'd been so stressed recently; worrying about Gerard, trying to keep his own feelings in order, and now, containing his jealousy over the two front men, and the fact that Way had a secret that he was willing to share with the other singer, but not Frank - who'd been one of his best friends for over ten years now.

The two men were off together now as well; Iero could see them, leaning close against one another in the corner of the shitty little club. They were laughing at something - Gerard was double over at whatever it was. Frank could imagine his high-pitched giggle, the slightly manic note to it only accentuated by the drink he'd consumed.

Iero tore his gaze away, trying to seek out the others. They were all dancing, as far as he could make out. Well, that is, if you could describe the mental movements they were making as dancing. The guitarist smirked slightly, and ordered another Jaeger-bomb. He felt about twenty as he did so, but that wasn't unwelcome.

As he downed this, his eyes drifted back to where the two singers were huddled together. Frank frowned to see another man had joined them. He was on the large side, but whether that was from muscles or fat, Iero couldn't tell. He was pressed in to the corner, getting in the other two men's personal space. Gerard's especially.

Iero stood angrily, meaning to make his way over to the new-comer and set a few things straight. He valiant effort was ruined however, by the sudden movement giving him a head rush, resulting in the singer toppling over drunkenly. By the time he'd regained his feet, Bert was in the other man's face, looking scarier than should be possible for a guy who couldn't weigh more than eleven stone. Perhaps it was the general air of being a stoner, or his words were somewhat threatening, but the fat guy backed away fast enough, leaving the singers on their own.

As Frank watched, Gerard marched towards the other side of the room - where a couple of grimy bathrooms were located. After throwing another glare at the departing man, Bert followed. And of course, so did Iero.

The other two men arrived in the bathroom before him – mostly due to his drunken state – and were already in mid-argument by the time the guitarist was in earshot.

“Look!” Bert was saying. “This is why you have to tell the other guys! What are they gonna think if something like that happens again? And if they don’t know and I’m not here to tell the bastard to fuck off’, Jesus only knows what they’ll do to you! That guy was not messing around!”

“It’s fine.” way insisted in reply. “This is the first time anything like that has happened – I don’t usually go to clubs like this!”

“Yeah, so they just come to you?” Frank could hear the sneer in McCracken’s voice.

“Generally, yeah.”

“What? Through your fucking pimp?”

Iero staggered back at that, not sure what to make of it. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but it seemed that this was the only way he was ever going to get answers.

“I’m not a whore!” Gerard said in defence.

“Sure.” That sneer again. “Look, maybe you’re not the one getting paid, but that Stephen bloke is getting money by you letting guys fuck you. It seems like you’re a skank to me!”

Frank gaped from outside the bathroom, not believing what he was hearing. This had to be some kind of trick – his mind was acting up from the alcohol, or the singers were about to jump out and shout ‘April Fools’ (not that it was April, but still).

They remained quiet, despite the guitarist’s hopes. Worse still, was the fact that Gerard wasn’t denying what the other man had just said.

“Gee, listen to me.” Bert’s voice was quieter now, and Frank had to strain to listen. “You’ve got to tell someone, for your own protection as much as anything else. Plus, me and the guys are back on tour now, I can’t talk to you every other night, can I? You’ve also got to stop seeing these guys. Tell Stephen you quit or something, get out of it.”

“No.” Gerard sounded resolute. “You know why. I’m not gonna stop seeing these guys.”

That was what did it. Iero couldn’t listen anymore; couldn’t bare to hear his best friend, and the guy he might be a tiny (or a huge) bit in love with, wanting to be fucked by other men. Like some cheap whore. A slut.

He walked back out in to the club, and found Ray fast enough. The other guitarist was as drunk as everyone else (although, after hearing that conversation, Iero was feeling surprisingly sober), so Frank didn’t bother to try and drag him out. They could find their own way back to the bus, and so could he.

Once on board, Iero took advantage of the place being empty and took a shower. He felt disgusting, but didn’t take the pleasure he usually did when cleaning himself off. The water rushing over him did nothing for him, and when he got out, the guitarist felt as heart-broken and horrified as he did before hand.

He pulled on some pants (one of the other guys would probably try and climb in with him and that would just be awkward), and lay down in his bunk. It was quiet in there, peaceful. This didn’t help though – it just meant Iero was alone with his own thoughts.

Pictures of Gerard lying on countless beds, lying under countless men haunted him for hours, and when he fell asleep, his dreams were full of heart-ache and sadness. He woke up when the bus was travelling, with a pounding headache, and feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all. Frank rolled over and sunk back into a restless slumber, trying not to think.

Mikey came and woke him when they reached the venue, pressing a glass of cool orange juice into Iero’s hand. He guzzled it down thankfully, then handed the empty glass back.

“You ok man?” The bassist asked as the older man rolled out of bed and hunted around for his clothes. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

“I’m fine.” Frank responded, despondently. It was a lie, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Mikey his older brother was a prostitute in between his normal life. If only he’d been drunk enough to not remember that conversation. Mind you, he’d probably had have to become comatose before he forgot that.

His best friend was a whore.

Iero got dressed, Way still surveying him worriedly.

The gut wrenching feelings inside Frank didn’t let up for the show. He was playing with none his usual enthusiasm – just going through the motions. When Gerard came over to him, he shied away, refusing to make eye contact. That didn’t mean his missed the hurt that flashed over the singer’s face. The younger man felt guilty, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at, or talk to Way knowing what he did. Messing around on stage was out of the question.

After the concert, he went back to the bus, ignoring the concerned questions from his friends. There, he lay in his bunk, longing for sleep to come. He’d been asleep all day already though, so that wasn’t going to happen. Iero was still fully conscious when the rest of the band came on board, and they set off driving again.

He knew that he was reacting to this new knowledge in completely the wrong way – he should talk to Way, instead of shunning him. He couldn’t help it though. He was upset, angry and jealous, and knew that talking to Gerard now would just release these emotions and neither of them would come out of the inevitable confrontation feeling any better than they did now.

Apparently though, the signer had other ideas.

Frank fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, meaning that someone had to wake him when they arrived at the venue again. This time, it was the elder Way that volunteered, and the other two band members were happy to go along with this.

So Iero woke up to the one person who's face he really did not want to see at that moment, looming over him. Slightly startled, the guitarist sprung back.

Gerard frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The younger man lied. "You just startled me - that's all."

"Ok then. We're at the venue though, so if you wanna come get ready."

Frank nodded and got up. He hunted around for some jeans and a top, feeling uncomfortable under Gerard's gaze. It wasn't a feeling he was used to - or one he particularly liked - but he couldn't shake it.

The two walked off the bus in silence, Way seeming to have detected his friend's awkwardness. They were about to go in to the building when the singer stopped the other man.

"What's up dude? You're acting really weird."

Perhaps he could have handled it better. Maybe it would have been better to try and understand the situation Gerard was in. Possibly, it would have been better if Frank shouted and screamed. But he didn't. The pain and fury that had built up inside him since overhearing Bert and Gerard's conversation, and now he was at breaking point.

"I know, ok?" He hissed instead.

"About what?" It was clear on the singer's face that the ignorance was faked. Horror was etched into every detail.

"About you going around, acting like a cheap whore and selling yourself out to random strangers for the hell of it!" Iero snapped.

Hurt and anger ripped over the other man's features. Mostly hurt though. "You have no idea, Frank!"

"Then tell me!"

"Everything's gone to shit since Lindsey left and I've just been feeling so lonely-"

"Don't give me that shit." Frank's tone was more even now, but crueller, harsher. "You have me, Mikey, Ray - just to name a few. But instead of doing the sensible thing, you turned into a slut. And the icing on the cake? You don't tell any of us - instead Bert fucking McCracken! What is wrong with you?"

With that, the guitarist turned away, disgust covering his face. Way reached out to try and stop him, but he ripped his hand away with a harsh 'don't touch me!'. Gerard drew his hand back, wanting nothing more than to break down in to tears. He didn't though - just watched his friend disappear through the backstage doors, a few stray drops of salty water trickling down his cheeks.

The show that night was supposed to be their best. It was the last - and traditionally the biggest. However, it was rigid. The singer was on the verge of tears throughout the show, meaning the only songs that emotions bled through on were the sad ones - Cancer, Disenchanted. Frank was simply going through the motions of playing, hitting the chords with no energy or enthusiasm.

The mood affected Mikey and Ray too, but they tried to make up for how out of it the other two were. On the whole, it wasn't a bad show - the crowds looked happy enough - but it was probably the worst of the tour. Before they were even halfway through, the band's manager were considering refunds and tickets to make up for it. They'd wait and see the crowd's reaction after though.

When the show finished, Gerard and Frank were careful to exit to different sides of the stage - a contrast to the way they'd been over the last few months. Toro had no doubt this news would hit the internet within the hour.

Wearily, the four climbed back on the bus. Mikey tried to talk with his brother, find out what had upset him so badly, but with no avail. Ray did the same with Frank, only to get shouted at, to 'mind his own fucking business'. It was with heavy hearts that the band travelled to the airport, where they'd catch a flight, and then different taxis to take them home. There hadn't been this much tension between them since the end of their Black Parade tour.

The bus drive was silent, as was their journey through the departure lounge. On the plane, Toro and the younger Way brother discussed what the hell was going on between their two friends, but neither came up with any solutions. Gerard sat silently by the window, staring out at the endless sea of brilliant white clouds. A few seats away, Frank was blasting his ear drums with the most pissed off music he could find and plotting to write some more stuff with Leathermouth.

When they arrived in LA, Mikey offered to let Gerard stay with him and Alicia for a few days - suggesting that he might feel better with some company. His brother thanked him, but declined - the only thing he wanted to do right then was get fucked.

Frank left with a few short words of goodbye, before driving to Jamia's. He needed to pick up his dogs, and better still, he'd have some company that he could talk freely to, and wasn't another fucking guy.

Christa met Ray in the airport, and the two were kissing for a solid five minutes in view of everyone. Then they went back to their small comfy apartment.

Mikey had to get a cab home, but Alicia made it up to him by having a surprise all set up and ready for him at home.

And Gerard went to his over-sized, lonely house. He left again almost immediately, to have sex with a faceless stranger he'd never see again. Despite all the progress he'd made over the last few months on tour, the moment he got back to the city, he was on the same, self-destructive cycle.

He needed someone to pull him out, or come to his senses. If one of the two didn't happen, the results would be horrific for everyone involved. Unfortunatly - there were only two people who could help. One was halfway across the country; the other was too angry to do so. And Gerard didn't have to motivation to pull himself out.

The only was this could end, was badly.



That last line describes my coming weekend. Maybe I could go swimming and get dragged out to sea by a rip tide?! This could work!

I'm being a tad over dramatic here, aren't I?

Oh, well! R&R please, please?

Sx