FicWad

10: Would You Still Remember Me?
Saturday, January 12, 2009: 11:15 AM

Droplets of water sprayed across the mirror as Ray shook his head like a dog, dislodging any of the remaining water he hadn't managed to get rid of and sending fresh bolts of pain through his already throbbing head. He wrapped the towel more securely around his waist and walked into his room. Gerard was sitting on the end of his bed, holding the shirt Ray had worn the night before in one hand. He was staring at him with new interest.
"What?" Ray asked.
"Nothing." Gerard shook his head. "Here. You left this in my room."
He tossed the shirt at him and Ray caught it with one hand, still holding onto the towel with the other.
"Leave, I need to get dressed for the service."
"Why?" Gerard smirked. "Not like I'll see anything new."
"Yeah, well, I know what I'm doing this time," Ray said, striving to keep anger out of his voice.
"You knew what you were doing last night."
"Bullshit." Ray shook his head. "Get out, Gerard. We can argue later."
Gerard cocked an eyebrow at him and got up slowly. When his hand was on the doorknob, he turned and looked at Ray.
"It was just sex," he said softly. "It didn't mean anything. Don't get so bent out of shape." He put heavy emphasis on the word 'bent', and, though his face and voice remained the same, his eyes glittered cruelly.
Ray bit back the response he was longing to say-Gerard was just as bent as he was-as Gerard disappeared out his door.
--
As soon as Gerard appeared in the common room, Mike was up waiting for him.
"Hey, little man," Gerard said easily and grinned. "What's up?"
"What was up in your room last night?" Mike asked. Gerard's heart sank as fast as his smile. Oh, shit.
"I think you have some explaining to do," Mike said and folded his arms over his chest. "Now."
"I have to get ready-can't this wait?"
"No. The service isn't 'til five. You have plenty of time." Mike jerked his head at the table. "Sit."
Resigned, Gerard sat.
"Okay, first question: What the hell went on last night?"
What a stupid question.
"What do you think?" Gerard asked, leaning back and propping his knees against the table. "Don't bother asking Ray."
"Next question." Apparantly, Mike didn't want to get into the details any more than Gerard did. "Wait, why shouldn't I ask Ray?"
"He probably doesn't remember anything." Shit, he was holed in now. "Next question."
"Gerard." Mike was sounding like their father now. "Ray was drunk when he went in your room, wasn't he?"
"He wasn't that drunk."
"Bullshit," Mike said, sounding disgusted. "I can't believe you."
"What-Mike-come on-"
"You took advantage of him, Gerard. He was drunk." Mike shook his head. "I was more wasted than he was and I could tell he was bombed."
"This is bullshit," Gerard said finally. "It's not like he didn't know what he was doing."
"You're lying, aren't you?"
Gerard got up and left.
He wasn't sure if he was lying or not.
He didn't think he wanted to be sure.
--
5:45 PM
The service hadn't started yet when the van, Gerard and Ray as far away from each other as possible, pulled into the small church that it was being held at. In the back were their instruments; DW and some of the church guys were setting up a stage in the field behind the church. There was going to be a free, twenty minute concert for any of the fans who wanted to attend after the service was over.
When they got out, Jamia greeted them with a small wave and a sad smile. "Hey, guys," she said quietly, looking them over: Gerard, in his black suit and red tie, Bob in his black sunglasses and gray suit, Mikey in his white tuxedo jacket and black pants, and Ray, looking like some figure out of a 1940s movie with a charcoal-gray pinstripe suit and polished black shoes, prescription sunglasses on instead of the glasses he would wear later. Gerard and Bob were the only ones who greeted her vocally; Ray just stared at his shoes and Mike offered a small wave.
They walked into the church behind Jamia, the lights filtering in through the stained glass windows showing tiny particles of dust as they walked through them. The church was eerily quiet; no one was talking, no one was whispering. It was a private affair, at the request of Jamia and the Iero family; the fans would congregate and mourn Frank one last time before the concert, when Gerard would request a few moments' silence. So far, it was only Frank's mother, Jamia, the remaining members of My Chemical Romance, and Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. Gerard walked over to greet him; the others hung back. Billie Joe and Frank had gotten along famously during the tours they'd had with them.
"Where's Carmen?" Ray asked Jamia quietly. The church seemed to dictate soft speech.
"She's with my sister," Jamia replied, her voice softer than his own. "I didn't think this would be a good environment." Her voice took on a bitter note as she added, "I didn't think she would remember her father's funeral fondly."
"I'm sorry, Jamia," Ray said after a moment. "I know you've heard that too much lately, but it's true. I really am sorry."
"I know, Ray," she said and her brown eyes welled with tears. Oh, shit, Ray thought. Oh, shit, I made her cry. But she just dabbed at her eyes and sniffed, then offered a watery smile. "Thanks."
Before he could answer, she was over by Frank's mother.
--
6:10 PM
The service had started with Frank's mother saying a few words about her son, then moved on to Jamia. Ray, Gerard, Mike and Bob were in the front row of pews, all of Green Day, Alkaline Trio and Fall Out Boy behind them. There were fans inside the church, too: The lowliest Converse-wearing skate rat rubbed shoulders with Tre Cool, the eyeliner-wearing, black-haired emo girl sat beside Pete Wentz. But there was no time for fangirl hysterics. They had all come to pay homage to their fallen friend, their fallen idol, and that was the only thing on the mind of them all.
Jamia began holding the actual suicide note in her hand.
"I'm going to read some of this, and leave the rest out because some of it's none of your fucking business." That got their attention. She read until she got to the Neil Young line and her voice broke.
"And so remember'-and don't remember this," she said loudly, "because this is a fucking lie: 'It's better to burn out than to fade away'." Without warning, tears rolled down her face and she stepped off the stage. Subdued applause resounded in the small church.
Gerard walked up the steps next. "I... I can't believe he did this," he began. "Frank was the life of the band and nothing can ever replace that. We haven't made an effort to replace him, but we will-the band's going to go on, because that's what Frank would have wanted. I want all of you-" He looked each fan in their eyes. "to learn a lesson from this: Suicide is a shit way to go. If any of you ever think about it, if you're thinking about it... Remember the people you're leaving behind, and the life you'll have. Remember that it's never too late. Remember a man who was sweet, who was talented, who had the love of millions in his hands, but who didn't love himself enough." He took a deep breath and said three last words:
"Remember Frank Iero."
And then stepped off the stage. The applause was louder than it had been yet, still subdued but still loud.
Ray got up amid silence and walked the steps to the little podium. As he went, he wondered detachedly how many sermons had been taught there, the worn wood smooth under his hands that now gripped the sides. "Frank was an amazing guy: he was an idol, a friend, an amazing guitar player, a husband, and, most important to him, he was a father. He loved Carmen with everything he had in him and nothing will ever match that. He had a wife, a daughter, four men that were almost brothers to him and the love of a million people, but in the end, it didn't even matter. If you knew him for a moment, or for seven years, you could get anything you wanted to know about him." He paused for a moment. "He loved the fans, even when we began and he was just a snotty punk from Newark. He came from a town no one had ever heard of and went on to change the rock scene forever. He-all of My Chemical Romance-made amazing music. Remember the music, and remember him. Because that's where he'll always be, in the music, and the music will be in our hearts, forever." When he stopped, he realized how intensely he'd been speaking. He walked off of the stage in silence, and the applause only began when he was back in his seat.
"Okay," Gerard said, "Our show's going to start in twenty minutes. It'll be us, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Alkaline Trio and then an encore. If you want to come, fine, it's in the field behind the church."
--
7:00 PM
The show began after the service was over. The sun was just falling over the horizon when My Chemical Romance walked onto the stage.
Ray began the slow, mournful notes of the famed song and Mike joined in on bass, then Bob on drums. Gerard walked out with something in his hands that hadn't been seen for eight years.
A rhythm guitar was held in both hands-a white one, one that had become famous all over the world, one with purple letters that spelled out 'Pansy' on the side. He'd forced himself to play again after Frank began his drug battle and he was glad that he had.
He joined in finally and leaned in to sing into the microphone.
If I leave here tomorrow...
Would you still remember me?
They finished the song amid total silence. At first, Gerard though it had gone badly and his face fell. But then a low roar began and the crowd began screaming its approval. Ray led the walk off the stage and Fall Out Boy walked on.
A few minutes after their show, when Fall Out Boy was still on and the other two bands were warming up, Ray cornered Gerard.
"Hey," Gerard said carefully, looking up from his position on Mikey's bass case.
"Hey," Ray said, leaning against the car.
"Ray, I just... last night..." Gerard's voice trailed off.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Ray's eyes grew hard. "I know you're saying you didn't realize I was bombed. I hope you know I don't believe you."
"Ray..."
"Gerard, we're done," Ray said flatly. "We never should have started to begin with."
He walked off, leaving Gerard sitting on the case, staring at the ground. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting it.
What he wasn't expecting, though, was how much it hurt when he looked up and saw Ray walking away.
--
They were back onstage within twenty minutes.
"I think you guys will remember this one." Gerard turned and mouthed a word to the rest of the band.
He skipped the introduction and played instead, then joined in.
Burning on...
Just like a match you strike to incinerate....
They continued until they reached the final chorus. Ray began singing for the first time.
"Well if you carry on this way..." Gerard's head was thrown back to the sky and he was only half-singing into the microphone, but the savage scream that tore itself from his lips was loud enough for everyone in the wide field to hear. "Things are better if I stay... So long and goodnight, so long, not goodnight...."
Almost as soon as Gerard finished 'goodnight', he raised his arm and brought it down again. There was a splintering crack and the faithful old Session that had served him so well over all the years My Chemical Romance had been a band lay in three pieces on the stage.
Without a sound, they walked off the stage.