FicWad

Part Two: Phone a Friend

Ray had been feeling very strange as of lately.

The loss of James was an obvious source of this, seeing as nothing had been quite normal since it happened. Of course, the birds were still tweeting, the world was still spinning, and all the trees and buildings were in the same place they had always been. Most people he knew were going about their business like nothing was out of sorts. Ray had tried to join these people.

He spent all his time in his work study, trying to think up new lyrics and new riffs. His eyes were constantly glued to some blank notebook page, his fingers aching from twirling an unused pen or pencil between them. He tried to just go about his business as it always had been. The show must go on, he told himself.

But then he would start to text message Frank, or Mikey, or Gerard, just to ask how their progress was going – and he would remember that the show had come to a screeching halt just a mere two, three weeks ago. The curtains were up, the fat lady sung. Even if he could write, none of it would be put to use.

Still, he couldn’t accept it.

Any of it.

How odd it feels, to suddenly be hurled into a limbo where you want to move on… but you can’t. Yet there’s nowhere else to go but forward. And no one can help, because they’re either in the same position, or it’s irrelevant to them and they don’t care.

It’s hard to explain this to someone who has never experienced great loss. He knew Christa was doing her best to understand, she was doing all she could to be supportive. But she had never been close to James, nor had she lost anyone close --- and so she falls under that second category of irrelevant. But then where are the people who are relevant?

He had spoken to Mikey on occasion, but he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in discussing any deeper feelings. It felt as though Mikey was carrying a businesslike approach to the whole issue --- we’ll just do what we have to do, and get it over with. Frank he had spoken to more, and Frank had offered him a shoulder to lean on… yet Frank also had three kids and a mourning wife to deal with at the moment. And Gerard. Well, Gerard seemed to have just disappeared altogether.

Until a particular Monday morning, that was.

It was nearly six in the am when he got the phone call, and he almost ignored it. But the caller persisted, once, twice, three times. Aggravated as well as tired, Ray answered the fourth phone call in the roughest bark, not having bothered to check who was calling at such an ungodly hour.

“Ray?” came Frank’s voice, sounding shaky and slightly meek.

“What?” Ray asked, his irritation only slightly subsiding.

“Can you come over here?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh…” Frank responded, sounding surprised at the fact that Ray didn’t somehow already know. “Oh right, sorry, I’m at Gerard’s.”

Ray perked up momentarily. At last, someone had reached the singer. He looked over at Christa, who was beginning to stir due to the rude awakening. Ray asked Frank to hold as he got out of bed and let himself out of the room, so as not to wake her.

“Why?” he continued the conversation in the dark main hallway, “Is he okay?

“…Not exactly.” There was hesitation there, and standing in the shadows that are brought about by the early stages of sun rise, Ray felt a slight chill run through his skin.

“Elaborate, maybe? Where’s Bandit and Linz?” He pushed, but Frank seemed to want to keep the conversation short.

“I’ll explain later.” He said, “Just please come here. I don’t think I can handle him on my own.”

Handle him? Ray did a double take at Frank’s wording. Still, he used his arms to get ready to leave as he held his phone against his shoulder.

“Call Mikey.” Ray told him.

“You can’t come?” Frank sighed.

“No, no, I am coming. But if this is as serious as you’re making it sound -- and it better fucking be for dragging me out of bed at six in the fucking morning -- then I think you should call Mikey anyway.”

“Okay…” Frank agreed. A noise that did not come from Frank could be heard on the other end. A groan, of sorts. There was a beep and Ray looked at his phone to see that Frank had already hung up.

He arrived at Gerard’s house for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It was before he even went through the gate that he could tell that the gardeners had not come by in some time. Gerard’s home had always been covered in shrubbery, assortments of plants and greens… but they had clearly gone untrimmed. It was hard enough trying to find the doorbell amidst the leaves of the overgrown branches. After he pressed it, he looked up and saw that he could no longer find the small lenses of the four security cameras that were usually semi hidden in the trees. The mailbox looked to be near over flooding.

It took a while for Frank to come and open the gate for him. While Ray had not looked into a mirror that day, he could assume that he likely looked half awake – eyelids slightly closed, maybe a trail of dried drool still evident from one corner of his mouth, his hair even more disarrayed than usual. Frank, however, looked the exact opposite. His eyes were wide, slightly bloodshot. He seemed to be shaking slightly. He had the appearance of someone who either had way too much caffeine or maybe a bit of cocaine.

"Hey." Ray greeted his frazzled looking friend. "So what's going on? Where is he?"

Frank swallowed, and then beckoned Ray to follow him with a wave of his hand. They began to walk back to the two story house together, the sun now midway into its ascension to the sky.

"Well I went over to see how he was." Frank began. "As you know, he hadn't answered anyones calls in a while. Mikey told me to give him space, but I just felt like something was up. I was... worried, I guess."

Ray nodded as they reached the doorstep, Frank pushing open the knob. "Well I came over... and everything seemed fine, for a little while. I noticed Bandit and Lindsey weren't here, and Gerard said that they were just out for the day. We hung out."

They entered the semi lit home, and Frank lowered his voice significantly.

"But as the night went on, I also noticed there was a lot of things missing. Basically all of Lindsey and Bandit's stuff. The crib was gone, Lindsey's art pieces were gone, shit like that. There were a lot of his things missing too. When I asked about it he would just change the subject. Then, I noticed there were bandages on his hands. I felt I had to press him about that, and he sort of.... um, flipped the fuck out."

"Did he? What do yo--"

At this point, Frank had already dragged him halfway into the house. They were at an entryway when Frank flipped the switch of the room they were facing. The light illuminated a large entertainment room with maroon walls, one that they had spent many nights in having fun together.

The rooms current state was a reflection of many of those fun nights, although Ray was certain that it did not result from drunk merriment that it usually did. But there were still similarities. The beige carpet floor was nowhere to be found. The coffee table was flipped over. The flat screen was face down on the floor. There were sharp looking shards of god knows what sprinkling the area. The couches seat cushions were in disarray. A mirror lay shattered against the wall.

"He just started breaking things. I couldn't believe it." Frank remarked after Ray had taken it all in.

"Did he hurt you?" Ray asked.

"No, but I feel like he came close a couple of times." Frank recalled. "It was fucking scary. There was a point where he actually started screaming at nothing. Just... screaming."

"Wow..." Ray frowned, trying to imagine the normally mellow Gerard in such a way. "I guess we might know why Lindsey isn't here then. Where is he now?"

"He kind of shut down in the bathroom. He sustained some pretty deep cuts from his little tirade. I tried to get him back into his own room so I can try and patch him up, but he won't listen to me. I'm not even sure he hears me. He has this blank expression on his face. It's freaking me out almost just as much as the screaming did. That's when I called you. I was hoping you can snap him back into being... you know... normal."

Ray nodded, and they both made their way to the bathroom. As they got closer, Ray's anxiety increased. He had no idea what to expect. Gerard had had breakdowns before, and few of them ever ended without a struggle. While Ray had managed to calm Gerard down more than a handful of times, Gerard had never been quite so violent as to break things. The screaming, fine. But it was unnerving thinking that they could open the door and Gerard might start throwing objects at them. It was particularly hard due to the fact that he had not talked to Gerard in some time, and although a few weeks should not make that much of a difference, it was still unclear as to what changes Gerard may have been through during that time.

They reached the upstairs bathroom, and Ray suddenly felt quite nauseated. He almost wanted to turn back, thinking it may perhaps be better to return at another time. But the next thing he knew, Frank had opened the door and it was too late. He took a deep breath before looking into the small, lit space -- he braced himself.

"Ray!" Gerard's voice chirped merrily, and Ray had to take a step back in his surprise.

Gerard was standing over his sink, scrubbing his neck with a moist face towel. He looked over at them both and smiled.

"What's up with you guys?" he asked in the most casual way possible.

Ray looked incredulously at Frank. Had this been another one of his stupid jokes?

But Frank looked just as confused.

"Gerard..." he approached cautiously, "You're.. you're okay now?"

"Well yeah." Gerard turned to them, his eyes glittering with almost eerie cheerfulness. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Um, just a moment ago you were thrashing your entire entertainment system." Frank explained.

Gerard looked at them both as though they were up to some kind of prank. But then he reiterated: he had no idea what they were talking about. He went about scrubbing himself humming the tune to Beautiful Thieves by A Fire Inside.