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By the time I arrive at my parent's house, the clock's just turning to seven o'clock. As soon as I step through the door, my dad asks me, "so, how'd it go?"

I want to tell him that it sucked, it was awkward because I'd accidently told the lead singer all of my secrets.

That I never, ever want to go back, that I'm calling Mikey tomorrow and telling him that I actually can't do the band at the moment. Instead, I say, "It went... well."

"Playing drums?" he questions. When he get's started with the questions, he doesn't stop---

...God, my dad just drives me insane. He turns everything into a fucking game of twenty questions...

"Um, guitar. You know what dad, I'm drained. I'm heading to bed," I tell him, while brushing past and making my way down the hall. My room's way at the end.

"Frank, that you?" I hear my mom call out from hers and my father's bedroom.

I stop and stand outside her door. "Yeah. Hi mom. I'm going to sleep, I'll see you in the morning."

My dad approaches. "Need any extra blankets?" he says.

To get him off my back, I reply by grabbing a couple blankets off of the stack in his hand.

"You don't want the---" he starts, but I cut him off.

"Good night Dad, see you in the morning."

"G'night!" My mom yells. I walk in the room and try not to slam the door.




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I wake up and all I see is darkness. I don't even remember falling asleep. I figured I'd just waken up in the middle of the night, like I usually did when I was stressed. But by glancing at the clock, I am informed that it's 5:56 am, and suddenly a bolt of energy runs through me, so I decide to get up and make myself coffee. Why not start the day early?

In the living room I watch the weather quietly, seeing as there's nothing else on this early in the morning, and soon my stomach starts to growl. The only thing in the cabinets are the butts of a loaf of bread and a small bit of cheerios, so I lay down on the couch and end up falling asleep.




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Gerard is standing outside of my house, looking in the window. He knocks a few times. "Frank," he says, softly. "Frank," he repeats. This time it sounds more womanly, more like--- "FRANK!"

I open my eyes and realize that the voice wasn't Gerard at all, that it had all been a dream and that it was my mother trying to wake me up. "It's nine in the morning. Get up, I need to watch my show."

Well, someone's cranky.

"Sleep well last night?" my dad asks from the kitchen.

"Yeah, slept fine. Um... can I borrow your car? I'm going to go get coffee and breakfast."

"You don't want anything here? I'm sure we could whip something up," my mom tells me.

I really need to get away from here for a while, before I go insane. I always forget how much my parents annoy me until I'm actually home again. "Nope, that's fine. And I have to, uh, meet up with the band, so don't worry if I take a while." It's a white lie, but it will give me some time to myself.

When I'm at Starbucks, I decide to go inside. As I'm waiting in line, I see someone walk in out of the corner of my eye, someone that made my stomach drop to the floor. I turn to see who it is and from the back, it sure looks a lot like him. Gerard. I didn't want to ditch my spot in line, considering that I'd been standing here for a good fifteen minutes, so I turn the other way. I get to the front of the line, order my coffee, and start to fast-walk out, taking a quick glimpse back at him, only to realize that it wasn't even him. I guess I'm just a little paranoid.

Since I still had a while until I should be heading back to the house, I decide to go to the fas station and get a pack of cigerettes. The pack I had was actually running pretty low.

I pull up in front of 7-11 and get out of my car, then read a sign about some local band. When I walk inside, it's quite empty and smells kind of funny.

"Can I get a marlboro," I say to the cashier. He looks me up and down then turns to unlock the shelf of cigarettes.

He takes one out and slides it across the counter towards me. He's eyeing me, so I pay and get out.

Lingering outside by the ice machine, I take out the pack and open it, then reach for my lighter only to realize it's not even there.

I lose atleast three lighters a week. Then I find them in the most random places...

I sigh, standing there with nothing to do. I don't want to go back inside to that strange cashier, so I start thinking about the plane ride, about Gerard. He'd been so nice about knowing everything--- or maybe he just was afraid to say something. He probably just didn't want to emberass me.

"Hey Frank," says a voice beside me. I look up.

I clear my throat, "Hi Gerard."

Then it's just us, standing by the ice machine as if we're in high school. There's some sort of tension in the air that and I can't quite recognize. Oh no--- he's going to kick me out of the band. I fucking told him I'm gay. He's homophobic.

"So..." he says.

"I'm not really--- I mean, I'm attracted to /women/, you know?" I tell him, then start playing with my right earloab, which is something that I usually do around someone I'm starting to have feelings for, but I tell myself that in this case it's just nerves.

"Huh?" he says, giving me an odd look.

"What?" I ask. It's all confusing.

"Um, I was just going to say, you're a talented guitar player."

I nod. "Right."

"You thought I was going to say something about you being gay?" He says, a mischevious smile on his face.

Sushing him, I frantically look around. No one's even in earshot. That's lucky. "You should be more careful."

He giggles to himself, then pulls out a pack of cigaretts. So he smokes, too. He then proceeds to lighting it.

"You know smoking's bad for vocal chords. You know, for singing." I tell him.

"Yeah, well," Gerard pauses, letting the smoke intoxicate his lungs before continuing. "Where would we be without our smokes and booze?"

I half smile. Oh my god, I want one so bad right now. "Can I use your lighter?"

He nods, hands me his, and says, "you couldn't buy one?"

I shrug, and not wanting to sound lame, say, "Didn't bring enough money."

Soon we're both standing there, smoking, then Gerard says, "Frank?"

I look at him. "Yeah?"

"You, uh... you think you could not tell the guys where I was?"

At first I'm confused. "What do you mean? Here?"

He shakes his head, "No. The flight. I told them I was coming from New York, from college, and um. Just don't mention anything about Delaware."

Slowly, I nod. "Alright."

What would Gerard possibly have to hide from his own bandmates?

"Well, I'll see you around. Next practice is tonight," Gerard says to me, quickly changing the subject from before.
When he walks past me to his car (a beat up silver one), his hand brushes against mine. I can't tell if it was an accident, or if it was done purposefully to either tease me or show he liked me back. Wait--- what am I saying? I don't like Gerard. Let's just get that straight. No possible way do I like this guy. It's just a normal friendship between a couple of guys in a band, and that is all.

It will deffinetly never be anything more.








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