I think I've settled into a voice for this story, well, two voices actually. Switching between Gerard's narrative parts for the broad idea of what's going on in the house and third person bits for when I need to focus on what the others are feeling.
If you couldn't tell this story is going to be more or less fragmented, clips and images of their time at The Paramour. I'm also not writing everything in order, just working on the bits that I have inspiration for. If you're confused, good, you should be.
Exerpt:
There comes a time when you need to be much more than a friend, a band mate, or a brother. You have to learn to be there for each other in ways you never knew existed, face things you never had to face together.
-The Black Parade limited edition booklet, Section No. 002,
The Paramour Mansion, Los Angeles
Frank. It was just Frank who’d interrupted me, nothing to freak out over. I took a calming breath, then tried to smile at him, but failed, probably grimacing at him more than anything.
He stood there, giving me this curious, tilted head look, eyes laced with worry. I must have looked completely mad to him. First standing in an empty hallway facing a wall with my eyes closed, then nearly having a fucking heart attack when he’d tapped my shoulder.
I remember he just took my hand and lead me to his room. Sometimes Frank can read me almost as well as Mikey can.
He knew exactly what I needed.
Frank carefully lead Gerard into his room, shutting the door softly behind them. Gerard stood in the middle of the floor, hands hanging limp at his sides. His eyes were fixed on some point, like he was deep within himself, not really seeing anything before him.
It hurt Frank, seeing him like that, looking so lost. Almost scared. He’d seen his friend go through so much heartache and pain with their last album; he didn’t need to see him go through anything like that again. The last thing he wanted was to almost lose him again.
Frank took a few steps toward Gerard, gently and almost hesitantly taking his hand. He was surprised by how cold his friend’s skin was. How unresponsive and almost dead his hand was. Frank laced their fingers together, tugging slightly on Gerard’s arm.
“G., are you okay?”
Gerard’s head turned then, facing Frank, an almost hollow look in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was weak, small, almost childlike, the sound almost breaking Frank’s heart. The words he spoke succeeding in that endeavor.
“I want to go home.”
Frank was still for a long moment, just looking up into his friend’s eyes, trying to gain some idea of what he could do to help. Finally he sighed, pulling Gerard by the arm over to the edge of his bed. He sat them down, letting go of Gerard’s hand in favor of folding his own in his lap, fixing his eyes on the floor.
“I want to go home, Frankie, I want my life to be familiar again.”
Frank chewed on his lip ring for a moment, a nervous habit that he couldn’t quite break, despite the fact that his teeth often slipped and pierced his lip. Gerard had always told him the gesture was cute, a comment that never failed to make Frank’s ears turn red.
Gerard wasn’t looking at him then though, he was still staring off, still looking into the oblivion on his own mind, lost within his own fears and insecurities. Frank’s eyes wandered to the floor, searching his own mind for something he could say or do to help Gerard, pull him out of this cloud of despair he’d built around himself.
“I’m here.”
He wasn’t really sure why he chose to say that, it just seemed right at the time. He wasn’t really one to dwell too much on the little things, like Gerard did to often. He’d never really felt homesick. Sure he missed Jamia, missed his family, missed his home and the things that were familiar to him, stuff he couldn’t bring on tour, but it wasn’t homesickness. He’d always had his band with him, his friends and brothers. He never really felt alone. He couldn’t imagine why Gerard did.
After a quiet pause Frank slipped a comforting arm around Gerard’s waist, hoping that the gesture would bring some comfort to his friend. It was another moment before Gerard even seemed to acknowledge the half embrace, turning his head to look at Frank.
“I know you’re here, and Mikey, and everyone. You guys have always been my home.” Gerard swallowed hard, leaning slightly against Frank. “I don’t know why I feel so lost. So alone.”
Frank met Gerard’s eyes, searching them for something. What exactly he wasn’t quite sure. Finally he brought a hand up to Gerard’s cheek, calloused fingers brushing slightly. Gerard hadn’t shaved, and the sensation of rough stubble under his touch was almost jarring.
He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and there probably wasn’t anything anyone could say. He sighed heavily then presses his lips to Gerard’s, the kiss firm and determined, hopefully conveying just how much Frank needed Gerard. Needed him safe and sane.
He pressed their foreheads together, reaching for Gerard’s hand again and giving it a tight squeeze. He met Gerard’s sorrowful eyes with his own.
“If you need me, for anything, even just someone to sit in silence with, I’m here. If you need to talk, or jam, even hurt something. I’m here for you, okay? I’m here.”
I stayed in his room that night, for some reason it was more comforting than my own. More welcoming. The strange thing was, I liked my room, as cold and unfamiliar as it was, it fit me.
I guess that’s what had me scared.
Wrapped in Frank’s familiar arms, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, his warm breaths ghosting over my cheek, I actually fell asleep. I didn’t dream, I don’t think, which was a small blessing.
I wasn’t ready to dream again. But really, I don’t think I could ever have be ready for the turn my dreams would take.
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