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It took well over an hour after that to get Gerard to leave - his thirst for more knowledge was unquenchable.

I'd agreed, though with gritted teeth and an already fast building regret, to be there tomorrow when his band would play. It was my work night, after all, even though I'd told Mooney I wasn't going to be there.

I don't know exactly how Gerard had managed to talk me into it but a promise was a promise and I went to bed with nerves that would've easily been enough to cause me a heart failure.

I was surprisingly calm about telling Gerard everything, but at the same time very eager to forget all about this afternoon and evening and go on with my life the way it had been before Gerard had miracuslously re-entered my life.

The thought of putting my life behind me -again- was tempting, but since I was fairly sure I couldn't run forever and secretly pleased and relieved in having someone in the know, I decided to face whatever was to come due to my big mouth and keep things the way they were now.
It's not like I had succeeded so well at trying to re-establish my life before.

I had a slow, almost frustratingly so, morning. After a barely motivated, short jog and one too many cups of coffee, I was only waiting for the time to pass enough until it would be appropriate for me to show up at work.

It felt backwards the way you anticipated something you actually did not really look forward to. At the same time I resented the idea of having run out of time before forced to leave, and waited for the time to pass so I could leave the apartment.

It was six PM when I finally arrived at The Blackeye and the band was to start in an hour or two- it depended much on the number or customers present. I had recently been taught to serve the happy drinkers of the bar and Mooney had a bright idea of placing me behind the counter and putting me in charge of the service and, as he called it, cash register abuse.

I was a quick learner, but the damned thing seemed to have a will of its own and never failed to have a mechanical stroke whenever I laid my hands on it. After less than fifteen minutes to the shift I already had a feeling this was going to be a very long night.

"Hit me another" muttered a heavy man with a thick mustache, whose name I had never quite caught. He always wore a basker on his head, slightly cocked to the left side and it always made me think of some artist, painter perhaps, of another century.

He twirled his unwashed mustache lovingly as he poured down a tequila shot after another, but the amount of alcohol he consumed, regardless of how unbelievable it was, never seemed to have an affect on him. His speech never slurred, his eyes never lost their focus and his body stayed as steady in its moves as if he'd been drinking water the whole time.

Mooney called him a goldmine, the man drank more high class tequila than three mexican mobs on a friday night and never had to be declined another fill due to his condition.

I poured the fill, adding another tiny paper bag of salt and a half dried slice of lemon on the saucer next to his glass and put the bill in the drawer underneath the register. It was special service for this guy - he always paid up for his share of drink before leaving.

I was surprised when he stopped stroking his mustache and turned his eyes on me, opening his mouth for the first time to say anything but 'hit me another'.

"Is there a band playing tonight?" he asked, as if the subject held no interest for him, but still felt like asking.

"Yeah, actually there is. Nut I don't think they'll start before eight o'clock tonight. They haven't even showed up yet" With that I took a glance at the huge clock above me and realized that an entire hour had already passed.
Huh. Maybe I'd be lucky and they'd make a no-show.

"What're they called?" He asked in that same indifferent voice.

I felt my cheeks flush as I realized that I didn't have the slightest idea. I shrugged and muttered a sorry after admitting that I really had no clue. He turned away from me, his hand regaining its usual position by his face, fingers entwining with the graying facial hair under his nose.

At that moment, I heard the door open and an exceptionally loud group of men entered the bar, the first one of which that caught me eye being Gerard.
He laughed a loud, crackled laugh and held the door open even after the others had stepped in.

"Aw, don't be a bad sport, man! You can handle it you big boy!" He yelled and let out another excessive giggle before letting the door shut behind him. He lead the men to the counter and fixed his gaze on me, which I tried to dodge by appearing to be busy drying glasses.

"Hi" His soft voice greeted from the other side of the counter. I snapped my head up as if I'd only noticed his presence now.

"Oh, hi, Gerard!" I exclaimed feeling extremely lame. Gerard though seemed to be pleased by my light, happy response and he flashed his famous lopsided grin at me before extending his arm over the counter to ruffle my hair. I snorted and replaced my smile with a frown.

"I can't reach out and hug you so it's the next best thing" he shrugged, still smiling. I chuckled self-consciously and went to get some empty glasses and placed them in front of me, pouring the contents of four beer bottles into them.

"It's on the house" I announced, smiling and waving my hand dismissively "there's only three of you, right?" I checked.

"Four, actually" Gerard corrected, various expressions flowing through his features.

"Oh" I got a fourth glass and poured another bottle "Who's he and where's he?" I asked lightly, before realizing there was something off with the way Gerard smiled now.
It had turned into a careful, guilty grimace.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

The man next to him coughed and I turned to face him.

"He's getting the equipment" he informed.

"By himself?" I mused "That's not very fair, is it"

"We take turns" the man smirked and took a long sip of the beer in front of him. He extended his arm, and we shook hands. His grip was hard and over-confident.

"I'm Matt" he declared.

"Avery" I told him. I could see Gerard shaking his head from the corner of my eye.

"I'm the drummer. Gerard here sings, which you already may or may not know. He's the bass player" He gestured towards the man next to him, a face that I did not recognize. The man waved, and I lifted my hand hesitantly, adding a small smile to compensate my dull response.

"Frank'll show up soon" He finished and sipped on his beer again.

"Frank?" I repeated slowly while my heart picked up a high tempo unfamiliar beat.
Horror? Panic? ...Anxiety? Or the powerful feeling of longing and ache I felt everytime that particular name was mentioned despite my desperate attempts to remind myself of the fact that there were thousands of Franks in the state only?
All four, perhaps.

"Yeah, he plays the guitar. Gerard's friend - you don't know him?"

My head snapped back to Gerard and all of a sudden, his sheepish expression made all the sense in the world.
This wasn't any of the thousand Franks in New Jersey they were talking about, this was Frank. Gerard's Frank. My Frank.
Mental slap.
I gave Gerard the most murderous look I was capable of forming though I was pretty sure my face was closer to horrorstruck than furious. The unspoken words, screams more likely, that he must've seen in my eyes made him take a single step back, which despite my terror and fury, pleased me to no end. He should be scared.

"You guys go ahead and sit, or help Frank, or whatever. I'll be right there" He stuttered and the men grapped their pints and headed to take a closer look at the stage they were about to perform on.
The silence they left behind was deafening.

"I should have told you" He amended after a moment of thick, awkward silence. He switched his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.

"You should've told me" I agreed, too caught up with the extreme emotions that were boiling in my chest to concentrate on the death glares anymore.

"He'll come inside any second now" He gave me an apologetic smile that showed that he knew exactly how much trouble he was in.

"Any second now.." I repeated, my voice trailing off, fading into a pathetic sound that escaped from the back of my throat. A hundred thoughts passed through my brain, each of which as eager to be acknowledged and considered at the same time.

I could see how this would play out. Frank would come in and see me. In shock an anger, he would try and convince Gerard that I was the criminal I'd told the former I was.

He could tell that to Mooney, too - my mouth popped open at the thought and my hand went to to cover it in a movement so fast I barely thought I was capable of in my frozen state.

But would he do that? He hadn't told any one of the guys, a part of me reminded myself acting as the voice of reason. But he'd thought he would never see me again and he might've thought it pointless to report me or uncover me before. But now... Who knew?

"Gerard-" I started.

"I'll cover you up" He cut me off and smiled happily. "I know you made him think you're some kind of a burglar or something equally ridiculous-" he snorted as if it was the most stupid, absurd thing he'd heard in his entire life "-but he won't say anything. I know him. And if he will, I'll just punch him. Or kiss him, or whatever" He shrugged.

I wanted to hit him. It was all so simple to him, too easy, almost. Sure, it wasn't his life in line, his life or his reputation or his fucking freedom.

And what about the heart then, I don't think mine would be able to take this.
My face went from scared to furious to humiliated and over again non-stop.

"Mooney!" I called without breaking eyecontact with Gerard.
I heard a muffled reply from the backroom.

"I'm taking a break now! Could you step in for a few minutes?" I yelled. I walked out from behind the counter to grab Gerard by the arm.

"I need to talk to you" I hissed as I dragged him to the staff room. Mooney walked out as we entered the room and gae me a questioning look, which I dismissed with a growl that was supposed to sound something like 'mind your own business'.

I took one last glance at the front door to make sure Frank hadn't come in and seen me in the last minute, turned around, and pushed Gerard in the chest with all the force I had in me. Much to my displeasure, that wasn't exaclty a lot and Gerard stood unmoved infront of me with an amused look on his face.

Again, I wanted to hit him, but if that's how much harm I did with a full-force push, I was fairly sure that I would just get my knuckles broken if I went for his jaw.

I stomped my foot on the ground, too caught up in my frustration to pay attention to how stupid I must've looked.

"Are you happy now?" I hissed and clenched my jaw "Are you really fucking sure you want me to be exposed like this? To Frank?" In the worst case, to everyone, I added in spite of myself. I had to make sure I would not make any physical contact with Frank, no matter what happened.

"Think of it as a reunion" He chuckled.

"A reunion? You're insane! And do you think Frank would be as fucked up as you to actually believe the whole, true story behind my appearance, disappearance and, finally, re-appearance?" I ranted while poking my finger on his chest in a way that I hoped atleast hurt a bit. "You idiot!" I exclaimed.

A sound loud enough to be heard through the swing door between us and the bar made me freeze. The bell above the door had gone off. Distant, muffled voices reached my ears and I had no doubt in my mind that I'd just identified one as Frank's.

My hand fell to my side and I almost wanted to check my vital signs to make sure I was still alive, for my lungs seemed unable to breath, my eyes were unable to focus and my head spun sickeningly enough to make me want to throw my guts up.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asked "Are you having, like, a panic attack or something?"

Huh. I don't know.
I heard a tiny whimper escape my lips and the next thing I knew I was stuffed into a tight hug and squeezed to the point of suffocation.

"You'll be fine!" He assured me with a high, soothing voice "It won't be that bad, I mean, look at us - we're getting along just fine!"

"That's only because you're a nutjob" I muttered into his embrace. I felt his body shake in a giggle. He pulled away, grabbing me by my soulders.

"Chances are he won't even notice you. He's psyched about the gig"

I nodded. "Though, if he indeed doesn't notice me, I'm sure you won't hesitate to point me out to him. It's not like you didn't want this go down like this" I murmured grudgingly.

Again, he laughed lightly and happily as if none of this was a very big deal to him. And I'm guessing that it really wasn't, either.

The voices seemed to all wonder Gerard's whereabouts, and with a last squeeze he let me free and lead the way out of the backroom.

I followed, holding my breath for dear life.







(I'd like to point out the fact that I'm perfectly aware now, as I was when I was writing the story, of Ray being a part of the band from the start and on the contrary, Frank not. Just as the guys, including Bob, never lived together in Ray's apartment during their time in college. This is fiction, and I never aimed for a as realistic as possible setting for the story. I appreciate and respect all the authors that are motivated to the fullest, squeezing little real-life facts into their stories and using the actual time frame of My Chemical Romance and the lives of its members as the backbone of the stories, making them that much more realistic and fun to read. I never bothered to do that, though, and as their life situations and the band itself is quite an insignificant part of the actual plot, I never thought about fixing these things.)