This Is the Best Day Ever [22/30]
Title: This Is the Best Day Ever
Author: waybeyondreason
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17
POV: Frank's
Summary: Frank and his friends have rented a summer house in California. They are really excited about spending the whole summer without any parents in this paradise. They catch up with an old friend living there, and his friends, the Way brothers. These new acquaintances make Frank realize some unknown things about himself that will change his summer (and his life) considerably.
Disclaimer: Real? This? Nah.
Beta: The one and only lemmethink_nooo. ♥♥ Seriously, check her out.
Author Notes: To all you who comments on this story; you're my little rays of sunshine! This story also contains (and pairs) the other members of My Chemical Romance, some of Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy.
Warnings: Language, boy love and sex. Nothing you can’t handle, hopefully.
1. && 2. && 3. && 4. && 5. && 6. && 7. && 8. && 9. && 10. && 11. && 12. && 13. && 14. && 15. && 16. && 17. && 18. && 19. && 20. && 21.
AN: OH MIGHT LOARD, I can't believe it's been like, two months since the last update! And it's been *counts* seven months since this startes! That's bad! Anyway, it's here now, better late that never. I don't like this chapter, I just kind of had to spew something out so I could post.
“Ugh, I’m never gonna drink again in my whole life,” Brendon moaned sickly as he clutched as his forehead with his palm, and bracing his other arm on the car seat he was currently balled tightly up on. He grunted as he threw his arms over his head to shield off the light. “I’m serious.”
“You’ve said that like, a gazillion times the last few years,” Mikey said as he leaned over the back of Brendon’s seat from his position in the back seat to peek down at him. He extended an arm to stroke Brendon’s shoulder comfortingly. “And it always only lasts for a few weeks, maximum.”
“Stop all this alcohol talk,” Pete grunted. “Or I’m gonna say hello to my breakfast pretty soon.”
“You guys should learn from me,” Ray chirped in cheerfully even though he sat squeezed tight in between Pete and Gerard. “Don’t drink so much, stop in the right time, and always drink lots of milk before you go to bed.” His ‘fro bounced in time with the low music that rattled out from the speakers.
“Shut up, Cinderayella, it’s just because you get fuzzy after the first beer that you don’t drink so much,” I giggled, leaning over the sleeping form that was Gerard to give Ray a playful shove at his side. I rested my head on Gerard’s shoulder on my way back, and found his limp hand to intertwine with my own, snuggling into his warm body.
Bob, who was driving, didn’t say anything.
We were on our way back to Brian’s studio to have another rehearsal, as the competition as well as our new found little gig was fast approaching. We had more or less finished the song, but we were in much need of quite some more timing, and lots more practice.
The wind blew softly in my hair from the window that Mikey had just rolled down. He had his hand outside, stretching his fingers lazily and his head tilted towards us, smiling at the looks on the faces of me and his brother. I grinned back and leaned closer to Gerard, closing my eyes.
I loved that Mikey was so approving of us. So much had happened since we drove over to California, and everything had happened so fast. Getting into a relationship usually took much more time than it had with me and Gerard, so if Mikey had been a little wary and overprotective, I would have understood. I think he knew how we felt though, as he was in the situation himself. And really, we were pretty even. Pete was like a brother to me, so I ought to be just as protective. But I knew that Mikey was one of the kindest, sweetest guys there is, so I couldn’t be anything else than downright happy for them. Ah, those Way brothers. I think he felt the same way about me.
The engine growled as Bob turned in by the curb outside the studio, and turned it off. Everyone opened the doors and went outside, and I shook Gerard awake. I giggled at the silly sleepy face he had as his eyes fluttered open and he smiled at me, and I gave him a peck on the cheek before I went outside too.
Brian came down and opened the door for us when Mikey called him, and he talked excitedly about the two new bands he’d gotten in studio since we last visited.
“You’re still the best, though,” he chatted excitedly as we went into the usual practice room. Craig waved energetically at us from over by the coffee machine, flashing his trademark grin. “They’re kinda random, but they got potential. But you know, when I’m gonna host shows and shit, you’re gonna be my headlines. In a few years, I won’t be able to shut up about that ‘yeah, I started them.’ Them being you,” he grinned, and grabbed for his old, dirty cup that he had placed on an amp.
“Wow Brian, that’s flattering! Who got you laid last night?” Brendon laughed. Brian just grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before he retreated to his cup.
“My own label, guys,” he breathed as we all sat down by the table, and Craig sent around a starch of Styrofoam cups and the coffee can.
“It’s amazing,” Bob nodded and filled up his cup. “What are you gonna call it?”
“Actually, I don’t know yet,” Brian said and scrunched up his nose. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but I haven’t gotten a good idea.”
Right then, we was interrupted by the door squeaking and a blonde, tall, skinny boy entering with a huge grin on his face, waving at us.
“Quinn!” Mikey grinned, and I recognized him as the guy I had almost knocked down (or, tried to knock down) because I thought he was calling me midget. I gave him an embarrassed grin as he walked over, and he winked at me.
“Hey! So you’re the band Brian can’t shut the fuck up about, huh?” he smiled, and Brendon patted on his lap for Quinn to sit down on.
“Yeah, isn’t he a charmer?” Gerard said.
“Very much. He has actually agreed to let us practice here as well. You should get your signing papers ready already, Brian,” Quinn smiled.
“Your and Bert’s band? Quinn, that’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell us, Brian?” Brendon said.
“Oh, I thought this obnoxious gentleman ought to tell you himself,” Brian waved.
“So, have you been practicing anything yet?” Gerard asked.
“Nah, we just split with our drummer, so we’re looking for a replacement. And we’ve been working mostly on writing songs lately. We’re tired of just playing Green Day all day long. But I head you have a song running?”
“Yeah,” Mikey smiled proudly. “It’s almost done too. We’re attending that contest, the one for the music school scholarship? And Brian, we forgot to tell you, we’re planning on playing on a club downtown that some guys told us about.”
“Really? Which bar?” Brian smiled, tipping forward in his chair.
“I think it’s called The Click or something,” Gerard’s chirped in.
“Ah, yeah, The Click. I’ve been there a few times to check out bands,” Brian nodded, and sipped from his coffee again. “It’s a pretty cool place, lots of young bands and kids who knows how to party. You’ll have a good time, I’m sure.”
“Lots of big, cool bands have played there in their youth,” Quinn said.
“And it’s really good practice,” Craig, who had just entered the room after getting some wires and shit from the room next door, agreed. “So you won’t show up with a total lack of experience at the contest. You have like, the coolest song in the history, but that doesn’t help much if you don’t know how to rock it out.”
“Yeah, we thought so too,” I said. “I think it’s gonna be fun. I’m really, really nervous, though.”
“When is it?” Brian asked.
“Heh, tonight, actually,” Brendon said while he refilled his cup with the coffee can, and managed to burn his fingers with a hiss.
“You better get some practice then,” Craig grinned.
We spent about three hours or so practicing before the system broke down completely. But we had used the time well, finishing the song and doing the last polish on the lyrics. Quinn had just sat there gaping for the first twenty minutes, and then started repeating “You made this?” like, a dozen times. We just grinned dumbly, nodding that, yeah, we did.
It felt so great, having made something you were utterly proud of. I mean, the lyrics, they were… they were significant for something more than just a silly love story. It was political, it was important, and we felt like Green Day. The drums made me tap my foot for the rest of day after each practice, and Ray had a pretty awesome guitar solo going on. It sounded like old rock, something awesome.
“Ugh, I fucking hate this!” Brian growled and kicked the nearest amp as he clutched his ears tight, like it was its fault that the sound had turned from song to obnoxious flight alarm. I shook my head to get the ringing away.
We helped them tidy up the equipment before we headed home. On our way, we drove up to check up on the bar and write up for the show. It lay in a little side street a few blocks up from Brian’s studio, and looked kind of dusty and wore down before we tugged on the heavy front doors and went inside.
It looked like an average, modern rock club, mostly. The walls were black, there were chairs and tables scattered around by the walls, and except for that it was only a stage and the bar counter. It was empty, except for the guy behind the bar counter that sat there half asleep over a stack of papers.
Paper-guy looked up as we approached him.
“Hey,” Brendon said, and he gave us an expecting look. “Uh, we’re a, uh, band. We heard you let new bands play here in the nights?” He sounded like he totally didn’t know what he was doing.
Paper-guy just smiled, and grabbed for a pen.
“Yeah, yeah, we do. Which night are you thinking of? And about how many songs?”
“Tonight, we thought. And we got one song of our own, and maybe around six covers?”
“Great, great,” he nodded and looked down at his papers. “What about eleven tonight? You’ll be the last band to get a show tonight, then. You’ll be band number three. Sound okay?”
“Um, yeah, sure! Awesome,” Brendon smiled puzzled, and we all thanked him and said good bye before we left.
“Well, that was easy,” Gerard said as we got out into the sunlight again.
At home, we beat our own record at being campy so far, and brought out make-up. Yeah, you heard me right, make-up.
After showering and getting dressed, we sat down in the living room, adding eyeliner and eye shadow, making ourselves look really cool. And kinda gay. But hey, there’s more flaming gaymos of us than ones who aren’t. And if you count Brendon, who’s acting like he actually got it for cock, then we’re five against two. We’re definitely the right guys for stage make-up.
Only to flame it up a little more, I put on a loose, pink t-shirt, and baggy, holey light blue jeans with my white socks pulled over the end of the legs. Gerard said I looked hot. Bob said I looked like Zac Efron.
And seriously, Gerard is a queen with eyeliner. While he applied a thick stroke around Mikey’s eyes, I commented with a giggle that he seemed to be really used to doing it, and he only gave me a little wink before making long, thin scratches over my eyes.
While preparing and eating a dinner consisting of yesterday’s Chinese take-out, we drank a whole lot of beer (and a little bit more. And then a little more, even), before we headed out for the car, squeezed ourselves inside it and drove downtown. It was around 10 already, and it was almost completely dark outside.
The club was already stuffed with people, sweat and shaggy music when we entered. The little stage was almost not invisible behind the jumping, swaying, waving crowd, with a little mosh pit in the front and a gathering of guys that did a rather interesting hardcore dance at the back. I smiled widely and took a deep breath, my nerves tickling me excitingly over the drunken buzz that numbed my limbs.
We pressed ourselves inside and elbowed our way over to the backstage door we knew were supposed to go in, and took a look at the band currently playing at the same time. They were mediocre, not too bad, but looked like suicidal teenage girls and sounded like a Simple Plan cover band.
“We’re totally better than them,” Gerard whispered in my ear, and I grinned back at him and pecked his cheek.
The flyer for the club had said that we were supposed to use their instruments, so it didn’t take us too long before we cued up in front of the door and told the guard our band name. He let us in after taking a look at his papers, and we entered a short hallway that led us into a little room that obviously was right behind the stage. It was packed with the five or six other bands that were playing that night, some crew people and quite a few girls that flirted immensely with the guys around.
“I’m gonna call Brian and ask if he’s here,” Mikey said and picked up his phone.
We looked around for a place to sit, and found a dingy old sofa full that we stuffed ourselves into. I climbed up into Gerard’s jaw “to make more space for you guys.” He smiled at me as I nuzzled his neck, and stoked my sides.
“So, you nervous?” He whispered.
“Hell yes,” I said. “It’s like… wow. I’m just trying not to think about it. We came up with this so suddenly you know, if I don’t think about it too much, I won’t get too nervous.”
“Yeah. But hey, you’ll do great anyway.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes! I’m so afraid my voice’ll shake like a bitch,” he said nervously and looked at me.
“It won’t. Hey, it won’t, okay? Trust me?” I said firmly, and pet his cheek.
“I always trust you,” he winked, and kissed me.”
“I’m gonna go meet this girl, Julia ,” Brendon said suddenly, as he jumped up from the sofa and stuffed his cell phone into his pocket with a smug grin. “I finally got a chance with her, now that we’re playing here!”
“Julia it is now, huh?” Ray grinned. “You man whore, what happened to that last one- Liza, Eliza?”
“Hey, I’m no whore,” he said and pretended to be offended, that dork. “I’ve been wanting this girl for fucking ever, dude. She’s Ryan’s ex, I used to try and hit on her so bad. We met last night, and have been texting. And she’s here now, asking if I’d like to meet her! So off I go, toodle-loo,” he winked, and did this terrible little dance before he fled.
“You better be back before we go on!” Bob shouted after him.
“I said he better be back before we go on!” Bob shouted, sounding rather hysterical, which is like, scary. We were standing in front of the stage door, ready to go on in less than a minute, and there was no sign of Brendon.
“I know, I know! And I’m back, right?” Brendon’s voice sounded from behind us, and we turned to see him jogging up to us, slightly flushed, hair ruffled and with a stupid grin on his face.
“Let’s go on fuckers. It’s show time.”
“Oh, sound a little more cliché please,” Bob said and rolled his eyes, but followed him out anyway.
We walked out onto the little stage as the manager of the band presented us, squinting in the bright lights. I found my way over to the right side of the stage where a little Gibson was perched up against the wall, and picked it up to swing its strap around my shoulder. We used a minute to get the instruments in tune, and Gerard picked up the microphone. He was obviously uncertain on whether he should introduce the songs we were about to play or not, but the manager did it for him right then, shouting out to the crowd that we were a nameless band, ready to rock them up with a few covers and something self made.
The crowd gave a little cheer at this, obviously floating in the short relax time that had been since the last band. I noticed that the most of them were a little over averagely drunk, swaying back and forth, anticipating for us to play. I nodded towards the others that I was ready, and saw Ray do the same.
“Okay,” Gerard whispered into the microphone, sounding sultry and absolutely sexy and not afraid at all. “Here we go!”
The first songs, something Smashing Pumpkins and one Iron Maiden, went fantastic. The sound wasn’t too good, not too bad either, but you could hear that we knew what we were doing. The crowd was totally getting it, moshing and cheering and singing along where they knew the lyrics.
Gerard looked over at me occasionally, grinning broadly, and I returned it with full force. He screamed and sang really cool, and he swaggered his hips and waved his arms and got the crowd with him. I basically just wanted to shove him into the nearest broom shelter and do him hard.
By the time we got to our own song, it was a blast. Later on, I couldn’t remember anything else than my thudding heart, the smell of alcohol and pure, fucking happiness. And Gerard’s ass.
The remaining bands left in the backstage room actually looked surprised and right out dazzled when we walked back in, exhausted and soaked in sweat, and threw ourselves down on a couch.
“That,” Bob exhaled, “was amazing.”
“Yeah!” Mikey shouted, “I wanna play all night!”
“You can play me all night,” Pete grinned, and pulled him down in his lap to kiss him. “My awfully hot bass boy.”
“And you,” Gerard whispered in my ear from behind, his hands finding his way into my totally wet shirt. “Can play me, right into next week.” He kissed my neck wetly, and I twisted my arms back to intertwine them in his hair.
“You bet I will,” I grinned right back at him.
God, what a night.
-----------------------------
Comments make me happy, and in writing mood :D To everyone who have commented; thank you, thank you, thank you!
Author: waybeyondreason
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: NC-17
POV: Frank's
Summary: Frank and his friends have rented a summer house in California. They are really excited about spending the whole summer without any parents in this paradise. They catch up with an old friend living there, and his friends, the Way brothers. These new acquaintances make Frank realize some unknown things about himself that will change his summer (and his life) considerably.
Disclaimer: Real? This? Nah.
Beta: The one and only lemmethink_nooo. ♥♥ Seriously, check her out.
Author Notes: To all you who comments on this story; you're my little rays of sunshine! This story also contains (and pairs) the other members of My Chemical Romance, some of Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy.
Warnings: Language, boy love and sex. Nothing you can’t handle, hopefully.
1. && 2. && 3. && 4. && 5. && 6. && 7. && 8. && 9. && 10. && 11. && 12. && 13. && 14. && 15. && 16. && 17. && 18. && 19. && 20. && 21.
AN: OH MIGHT LOARD, I can't believe it's been like, two months since the last update! And it's been *counts* seven months since this startes! That's bad! Anyway, it's here now, better late that never. I don't like this chapter, I just kind of had to spew something out so I could post.
“Ugh, I’m never gonna drink again in my whole life,” Brendon moaned sickly as he clutched as his forehead with his palm, and bracing his other arm on the car seat he was currently balled tightly up on. He grunted as he threw his arms over his head to shield off the light. “I’m serious.”
“You’ve said that like, a gazillion times the last few years,” Mikey said as he leaned over the back of Brendon’s seat from his position in the back seat to peek down at him. He extended an arm to stroke Brendon’s shoulder comfortingly. “And it always only lasts for a few weeks, maximum.”
“Stop all this alcohol talk,” Pete grunted. “Or I’m gonna say hello to my breakfast pretty soon.”
“You guys should learn from me,” Ray chirped in cheerfully even though he sat squeezed tight in between Pete and Gerard. “Don’t drink so much, stop in the right time, and always drink lots of milk before you go to bed.” His ‘fro bounced in time with the low music that rattled out from the speakers.
“Shut up, Cinderayella, it’s just because you get fuzzy after the first beer that you don’t drink so much,” I giggled, leaning over the sleeping form that was Gerard to give Ray a playful shove at his side. I rested my head on Gerard’s shoulder on my way back, and found his limp hand to intertwine with my own, snuggling into his warm body.
Bob, who was driving, didn’t say anything.
We were on our way back to Brian’s studio to have another rehearsal, as the competition as well as our new found little gig was fast approaching. We had more or less finished the song, but we were in much need of quite some more timing, and lots more practice.
The wind blew softly in my hair from the window that Mikey had just rolled down. He had his hand outside, stretching his fingers lazily and his head tilted towards us, smiling at the looks on the faces of me and his brother. I grinned back and leaned closer to Gerard, closing my eyes.
I loved that Mikey was so approving of us. So much had happened since we drove over to California, and everything had happened so fast. Getting into a relationship usually took much more time than it had with me and Gerard, so if Mikey had been a little wary and overprotective, I would have understood. I think he knew how we felt though, as he was in the situation himself. And really, we were pretty even. Pete was like a brother to me, so I ought to be just as protective. But I knew that Mikey was one of the kindest, sweetest guys there is, so I couldn’t be anything else than downright happy for them. Ah, those Way brothers. I think he felt the same way about me.
The engine growled as Bob turned in by the curb outside the studio, and turned it off. Everyone opened the doors and went outside, and I shook Gerard awake. I giggled at the silly sleepy face he had as his eyes fluttered open and he smiled at me, and I gave him a peck on the cheek before I went outside too.
Brian came down and opened the door for us when Mikey called him, and he talked excitedly about the two new bands he’d gotten in studio since we last visited.
“You’re still the best, though,” he chatted excitedly as we went into the usual practice room. Craig waved energetically at us from over by the coffee machine, flashing his trademark grin. “They’re kinda random, but they got potential. But you know, when I’m gonna host shows and shit, you’re gonna be my headlines. In a few years, I won’t be able to shut up about that ‘yeah, I started them.’ Them being you,” he grinned, and grabbed for his old, dirty cup that he had placed on an amp.
“Wow Brian, that’s flattering! Who got you laid last night?” Brendon laughed. Brian just grinned and wiggled his eyebrows before he retreated to his cup.
“My own label, guys,” he breathed as we all sat down by the table, and Craig sent around a starch of Styrofoam cups and the coffee can.
“It’s amazing,” Bob nodded and filled up his cup. “What are you gonna call it?”
“Actually, I don’t know yet,” Brian said and scrunched up his nose. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but I haven’t gotten a good idea.”
Right then, we was interrupted by the door squeaking and a blonde, tall, skinny boy entering with a huge grin on his face, waving at us.
“Quinn!” Mikey grinned, and I recognized him as the guy I had almost knocked down (or, tried to knock down) because I thought he was calling me midget. I gave him an embarrassed grin as he walked over, and he winked at me.
“Hey! So you’re the band Brian can’t shut the fuck up about, huh?” he smiled, and Brendon patted on his lap for Quinn to sit down on.
“Yeah, isn’t he a charmer?” Gerard said.
“Very much. He has actually agreed to let us practice here as well. You should get your signing papers ready already, Brian,” Quinn smiled.
“Your and Bert’s band? Quinn, that’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell us, Brian?” Brendon said.
“Oh, I thought this obnoxious gentleman ought to tell you himself,” Brian waved.
“So, have you been practicing anything yet?” Gerard asked.
“Nah, we just split with our drummer, so we’re looking for a replacement. And we’ve been working mostly on writing songs lately. We’re tired of just playing Green Day all day long. But I head you have a song running?”
“Yeah,” Mikey smiled proudly. “It’s almost done too. We’re attending that contest, the one for the music school scholarship? And Brian, we forgot to tell you, we’re planning on playing on a club downtown that some guys told us about.”
“Really? Which bar?” Brian smiled, tipping forward in his chair.
“I think it’s called The Click or something,” Gerard’s chirped in.
“Ah, yeah, The Click. I’ve been there a few times to check out bands,” Brian nodded, and sipped from his coffee again. “It’s a pretty cool place, lots of young bands and kids who knows how to party. You’ll have a good time, I’m sure.”
“Lots of big, cool bands have played there in their youth,” Quinn said.
“And it’s really good practice,” Craig, who had just entered the room after getting some wires and shit from the room next door, agreed. “So you won’t show up with a total lack of experience at the contest. You have like, the coolest song in the history, but that doesn’t help much if you don’t know how to rock it out.”
“Yeah, we thought so too,” I said. “I think it’s gonna be fun. I’m really, really nervous, though.”
“When is it?” Brian asked.
“Heh, tonight, actually,” Brendon said while he refilled his cup with the coffee can, and managed to burn his fingers with a hiss.
“You better get some practice then,” Craig grinned.
We spent about three hours or so practicing before the system broke down completely. But we had used the time well, finishing the song and doing the last polish on the lyrics. Quinn had just sat there gaping for the first twenty minutes, and then started repeating “You made this?” like, a dozen times. We just grinned dumbly, nodding that, yeah, we did.
It felt so great, having made something you were utterly proud of. I mean, the lyrics, they were… they were significant for something more than just a silly love story. It was political, it was important, and we felt like Green Day. The drums made me tap my foot for the rest of day after each practice, and Ray had a pretty awesome guitar solo going on. It sounded like old rock, something awesome.
“Ugh, I fucking hate this!” Brian growled and kicked the nearest amp as he clutched his ears tight, like it was its fault that the sound had turned from song to obnoxious flight alarm. I shook my head to get the ringing away.
We helped them tidy up the equipment before we headed home. On our way, we drove up to check up on the bar and write up for the show. It lay in a little side street a few blocks up from Brian’s studio, and looked kind of dusty and wore down before we tugged on the heavy front doors and went inside.
It looked like an average, modern rock club, mostly. The walls were black, there were chairs and tables scattered around by the walls, and except for that it was only a stage and the bar counter. It was empty, except for the guy behind the bar counter that sat there half asleep over a stack of papers.
Paper-guy looked up as we approached him.
“Hey,” Brendon said, and he gave us an expecting look. “Uh, we’re a, uh, band. We heard you let new bands play here in the nights?” He sounded like he totally didn’t know what he was doing.
Paper-guy just smiled, and grabbed for a pen.
“Yeah, yeah, we do. Which night are you thinking of? And about how many songs?”
“Tonight, we thought. And we got one song of our own, and maybe around six covers?”
“Great, great,” he nodded and looked down at his papers. “What about eleven tonight? You’ll be the last band to get a show tonight, then. You’ll be band number three. Sound okay?”
“Um, yeah, sure! Awesome,” Brendon smiled puzzled, and we all thanked him and said good bye before we left.
“Well, that was easy,” Gerard said as we got out into the sunlight again.
At home, we beat our own record at being campy so far, and brought out make-up. Yeah, you heard me right, make-up.
After showering and getting dressed, we sat down in the living room, adding eyeliner and eye shadow, making ourselves look really cool. And kinda gay. But hey, there’s more flaming gaymos of us than ones who aren’t. And if you count Brendon, who’s acting like he actually got it for cock, then we’re five against two. We’re definitely the right guys for stage make-up.
Only to flame it up a little more, I put on a loose, pink t-shirt, and baggy, holey light blue jeans with my white socks pulled over the end of the legs. Gerard said I looked hot. Bob said I looked like Zac Efron.
And seriously, Gerard is a queen with eyeliner. While he applied a thick stroke around Mikey’s eyes, I commented with a giggle that he seemed to be really used to doing it, and he only gave me a little wink before making long, thin scratches over my eyes.
While preparing and eating a dinner consisting of yesterday’s Chinese take-out, we drank a whole lot of beer (and a little bit more. And then a little more, even), before we headed out for the car, squeezed ourselves inside it and drove downtown. It was around 10 already, and it was almost completely dark outside.
The club was already stuffed with people, sweat and shaggy music when we entered. The little stage was almost not invisible behind the jumping, swaying, waving crowd, with a little mosh pit in the front and a gathering of guys that did a rather interesting hardcore dance at the back. I smiled widely and took a deep breath, my nerves tickling me excitingly over the drunken buzz that numbed my limbs.
We pressed ourselves inside and elbowed our way over to the backstage door we knew were supposed to go in, and took a look at the band currently playing at the same time. They were mediocre, not too bad, but looked like suicidal teenage girls and sounded like a Simple Plan cover band.
“We’re totally better than them,” Gerard whispered in my ear, and I grinned back at him and pecked his cheek.
The flyer for the club had said that we were supposed to use their instruments, so it didn’t take us too long before we cued up in front of the door and told the guard our band name. He let us in after taking a look at his papers, and we entered a short hallway that led us into a little room that obviously was right behind the stage. It was packed with the five or six other bands that were playing that night, some crew people and quite a few girls that flirted immensely with the guys around.
“I’m gonna call Brian and ask if he’s here,” Mikey said and picked up his phone.
We looked around for a place to sit, and found a dingy old sofa full that we stuffed ourselves into. I climbed up into Gerard’s jaw “to make more space for you guys.” He smiled at me as I nuzzled his neck, and stoked my sides.
“So, you nervous?” He whispered.
“Hell yes,” I said. “It’s like… wow. I’m just trying not to think about it. We came up with this so suddenly you know, if I don’t think about it too much, I won’t get too nervous.”
“Yeah. But hey, you’ll do great anyway.”
“Thanks,” I smiled. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes! I’m so afraid my voice’ll shake like a bitch,” he said nervously and looked at me.
“It won’t. Hey, it won’t, okay? Trust me?” I said firmly, and pet his cheek.
“I always trust you,” he winked, and kissed me.”
“I’m gonna go meet this girl, Julia ,” Brendon said suddenly, as he jumped up from the sofa and stuffed his cell phone into his pocket with a smug grin. “I finally got a chance with her, now that we’re playing here!”
“Julia it is now, huh?” Ray grinned. “You man whore, what happened to that last one- Liza, Eliza?”
“Hey, I’m no whore,” he said and pretended to be offended, that dork. “I’ve been wanting this girl for fucking ever, dude. She’s Ryan’s ex, I used to try and hit on her so bad. We met last night, and have been texting. And she’s here now, asking if I’d like to meet her! So off I go, toodle-loo,” he winked, and did this terrible little dance before he fled.
“You better be back before we go on!” Bob shouted after him.
“I said he better be back before we go on!” Bob shouted, sounding rather hysterical, which is like, scary. We were standing in front of the stage door, ready to go on in less than a minute, and there was no sign of Brendon.
“I know, I know! And I’m back, right?” Brendon’s voice sounded from behind us, and we turned to see him jogging up to us, slightly flushed, hair ruffled and with a stupid grin on his face.
“Let’s go on fuckers. It’s show time.”
“Oh, sound a little more cliché please,” Bob said and rolled his eyes, but followed him out anyway.
We walked out onto the little stage as the manager of the band presented us, squinting in the bright lights. I found my way over to the right side of the stage where a little Gibson was perched up against the wall, and picked it up to swing its strap around my shoulder. We used a minute to get the instruments in tune, and Gerard picked up the microphone. He was obviously uncertain on whether he should introduce the songs we were about to play or not, but the manager did it for him right then, shouting out to the crowd that we were a nameless band, ready to rock them up with a few covers and something self made.
The crowd gave a little cheer at this, obviously floating in the short relax time that had been since the last band. I noticed that the most of them were a little over averagely drunk, swaying back and forth, anticipating for us to play. I nodded towards the others that I was ready, and saw Ray do the same.
“Okay,” Gerard whispered into the microphone, sounding sultry and absolutely sexy and not afraid at all. “Here we go!”
The first songs, something Smashing Pumpkins and one Iron Maiden, went fantastic. The sound wasn’t too good, not too bad either, but you could hear that we knew what we were doing. The crowd was totally getting it, moshing and cheering and singing along where they knew the lyrics.
Gerard looked over at me occasionally, grinning broadly, and I returned it with full force. He screamed and sang really cool, and he swaggered his hips and waved his arms and got the crowd with him. I basically just wanted to shove him into the nearest broom shelter and do him hard.
By the time we got to our own song, it was a blast. Later on, I couldn’t remember anything else than my thudding heart, the smell of alcohol and pure, fucking happiness. And Gerard’s ass.
The remaining bands left in the backstage room actually looked surprised and right out dazzled when we walked back in, exhausted and soaked in sweat, and threw ourselves down on a couch.
“That,” Bob exhaled, “was amazing.”
“Yeah!” Mikey shouted, “I wanna play all night!”
“You can play me all night,” Pete grinned, and pulled him down in his lap to kiss him. “My awfully hot bass boy.”
“And you,” Gerard whispered in my ear from behind, his hands finding his way into my totally wet shirt. “Can play me, right into next week.” He kissed my neck wetly, and I twisted my arms back to intertwine them in his hair.
“You bet I will,” I grinned right back at him.
God, what a night.
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