Chapter Text
Day zero
‘Gee. Gee. Gerard. Wake up.’
A hand on his shoulder rips Gerard from his sleep. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that it’s Ray. It’s always Ray. It’s the routine they’ve developed crammed into their temporary home. Gerard is always the last to wake and it’s always Ray that wakes him. Still with his eyes firmly closed he fidgets against his tangled clothes and grunts in reply. Spending 24/7 with these guys they’ve come to learn each other's quirks and affectations well enough that it’s almost psychic. That is to say Ray would interpret this particular noise as ‘ok, I’ll get up soon’.
Footsteps and the rustle of clothes indicate Ray has accepted his response and exited the sleeping area. The first thing he notices is the lack of swaying that indicates the bus has stopped. This means either a truck stop or a venue. A good enough reason for Gerard to get up and find somewhere to get more cigarettes. Not that he had any idea how many he had left but he always needed more. As expected the lack of noise from the other bunks confirms that as usual, Gerard is the last to rise. Finally peeling open his sleep gritty eyes he stretches as much as the cramped bunk and his twisted clothes allow which confirmed that yet again he had slept in his clothes.
Yawning widely he grimaced at the taste at the back of his throat. The familiar tang of stale alcohol, cigarettes and possibly puke. Gross. Coffee was needed, stat. Actually, scratch that, his bladder felt like an overstretched balloon so bathroom first, then coffee. Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk he was grateful the bus wasn’t moving as it was a hell of a lot easier to crawl out the bunk. On more than one occasion he had smacked his head on the bunk opposite as the bus lurched around a corner.
He shuffled towards the back of the bus where the tiny chemical toilet sat with an even smaller sink. He could hear Ray in the back room practising some of their more complicated riffs over and over even though he played them perfectly every time. Gerard couldn’t help but admire his dedication. Reaching the door of the toilet he tugged it open and immediately gagged as the stench of stale vomit hit him full force. Stumbling back he held his breath as he took in the picture of destruction. There were glistening pools and streaks of the contents of someone's stomach not just in the toilet but around the pan, on the floor and clogged in the tiny sink.
Gingerly he closed the door. He couldn’t be sure it was him but the distinctive stench of stale Jack Daniels strongly suggested it was. Well fuck. He was in no state to face that yet. Instead he stumbled back through the bunk area and out towards the small kitchenette. The word kitchenette was doing some heavy lifting because in reality it was a microwave, a coffee maker, a toaster and a small fridge. Not that Gerard was complaining since his diet consisted of 90% coffee. Speaking of which, the pot was empty and cold. Usually Frank would have a pot on the go for when Gerard woke up. That was their routine. Ray woke him up and Frank gave him coffee then Gerard could function. The only other person around was Mikey who stood by the door shrugging on his jacket.
‘Hey Mikes. Where’s Frankie?’ his voice was scratchy from sleep and what felt like 400 cigarettes.
Mikey turned and frowned, no GLARED at Gerard. ‘Where do you think asshole?’
Gerard was so taken aback he didn’t say anything as Mikey swiftly turned and pushed his way out the door, letting it bang behind him. It was so unlike Mikey that Gerard felt blindsided. What the fuck was his problem? He glared at the empty coffee pot as if it held the answer, the throb of a headache threatening behind his eyes. Reaching up onto his tiptoes he rooted around in the cupboard where the first aid kit was kept in search of some painkillers but came up short. It was fine, he knew Frank carried pretty much a whole pharmacy with him everywhere so he headed back to the bunks. Speaking of, where was Frank? And what the fuck did Mikey mean? Frank’s bunk was below Gerard’s and couldn’t be more different. Where Frank actually made his bed every morning and even washed his sheets every time they found a launderette, Gerard’s bedding looked like a herd of wild cats had decided to have a wrestling match in them and the bedding itself had more stains than the carpet of a cheap bar. Frank’s belongings were stacked neatly at the end of his bed so it was easy to locate his backpack. After pulling out a layer of clean socks and underwear a shiny new bottle of Tylenol appeared.
‘Bingo!’ Gerard muttered, popping the cap and swallowing two tablets down dry. He coughed at the lack of saliva reminding him how thirsty he was. Although he really wanted coffee he needed something to drink right now so he returned to the kitchenette to inspect the contents of the fridge. Three cans of coke, a jar of mayo, a carton of soy milk, and then right at the back buried under a pack of sliced ham one bottle of Coors Light. Score!
The glass bottle was a welcome chill against his hand so he pressed it against his forehead, the beads of moisture seeping into his skin. Already he felt better and soon the Tylenol would kick in. Using the edge of the counter he popped the cap and lifted it to his lips, the heady scent of hops filling his nostrils. The first sip always tasted the best. So cool and refreshing and the alcohol content was so low it barely counted as alcohol. In three big gulps he emptied half the bottle gratefully washing away the taste of the night before. The night before. Hmm. Well clearly something had happened. Thinking about it, the fact their bathroom was covered in puke that was no doubt Gerard’s would explain why Frank and Mikey and probably the rest of their crew were mad at him which wasn’t exactly fair. He must have eaten something that disagreed with him, he didn’t normally puke like that. If anything, they should have been worried about him and taken care of him. He could have been really sick! So much for Mikey calling him an asshole. If anyone was the asshole here it was Mikey. He was his goddam brother for Christ's sake! He should have been looking out for him.
His mood turning sour, he leaned against the counter and downed the last of the beer, belching loudly as the bubbles made their way back up. Well, he might as well find out where they were and hope to god they have a restroom. Grabbing his sunglasses and wallet from the small table he headed out the door.
Even through the tint of his shades the sun was achingly bright making him squint to make out where they were. Some kind of parking lot. Trees in the distance. So not a truck stop then. The area around him was bustling with activity. There were vans and trucks unloading, gazebos and a row of porta-potties. Some kind of festival then. Cool. At least in the backstage area the chemical toilets would be reasonably clean. He headed to the nearest one, his bladder nearly at exploding point. Inside the plastic box the temperature was already sweltering, the sun beating down on the roof like a greenhouse. Holding his breath against the chemical stench he relieved himself as quickly as possible in order to spend as little time as he could inside.
Back outside the sun was warm against his skin, his shirt starting to stick to his chest. It was going to be a hot day. Better get some more beers to stay hydrated and shit. In order to do that he needed to pick up his access pass. Scanning the collection of gazebos he spotted one with a big ‘i’ for information in the centre so he headed there. There was a table covered in plastic boxes filled with lanyards of various colors, crates of water bottles and a pile of papers which on closer inspection was a map of the venue. A young man in a blue polo shirt greeted Gerard politely.
‘How can I help you?’
‘Hi I’m Gerard Way from My Chemical Romance.’ He wasn’t sure if he needed to qualify which band he was in since they were now so famous they were recognised virtually everywhere they went, but he also didn’t want to sound like an arrogant dickwad that assumed everyone knew who he was. ‘I’m here to pick up my lanyard.’
‘Of course Mr Way.’
It always sounded strange to him to be called ‘Mr Way’ like it was too grown up or something even though at the grand old age of twenty-seven he was the very definition of ‘grown up’.
The assistant deftly flicked through the row of laminated cards until he reached a divider marked ‘My Chemical Romance’. It didn’t take long to find as his was the only lanyard in that section, the rest of the band and crew already having picked theirs up. It irked him somewhat that no-one else had picked up his alongside theirs and dropped it off for him like they usually did.
‘Here you go.’ The assistant handed the lanyard over. ‘And here’s a map of the festival.’ He took a leaflet from the pile. ‘ And on the back are the set times.’ He showed the back of the map then handed it over. ‘We’re here all day through to 2 am so if you need anything just shout.’
‘Thanks.’ Gerard tucked the paper into his pocket and looped the lanyard over his head. ‘Is there a convenience store near here? I need to pick up some cigarettes.’
‘Sure!’ The way too chirpy guy replied and pointed over to the left. ‘If you head down to the West gate number 6 just over the road is a 7-eleven.’
‘Cool. Thanks.’ A 7-eleven would be perfect. Chances are they would have a coffee machine as well as cigarettes and hell, he might as well grab some more beers while he’s at it. Today looked like the perfect day to find himself a tree to sit under and sketch away the hours before the show. He was in no mood to seek out his bandmates. He would deal with them later.
‘No problem. Have a good day!’
Even though he knew the guy was just being polite it still grated on Gerard. It was a phrase that sounded so fake and phoney that he wanted to call him out on it. He bit back a sarcastic retort and made his way through security and to the exit.
As promised there was a 7-eleven almost exactly opposite. It was filled to the brim with festival goers but they gave Gerard a wide berth. At first it puzzled him but after a few dirty looks were thrown his way and one old lady tutted at him it dawned on him that maybe the outfit he’d been wearing for more days than he could remember stank like ass, but who cares? He was a rock star and that’s just what rock stars do. Day after day on the road and night after night at one party or another things were gonna get a little stinky. Whatever. A little stank never hurt anyone.
After grabbing a six pack and a coffee from the machine he joined the long queue snaking through the store. The tinny overhead music piped through the store was currently playing Changes by David Bowie. Smiling to himself he hummed along to the familiar refrain. As the queue inched forward he became aware of a background muttering winding around him and slowly gathering strength. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled at the sensation of more and more eyes turning towards him. In his peripheral vision he could make out a wide-eyed teenager raising a camera to eye level, Shit. Maybe if he just kept his head down and ignored them they would take their pictures and move on.
The queue moved forwards another inch and the background rumble turned into defined words ‘Is that…?’ ‘Oh my god!’ ‘...Gerard Way…’
Shit shit shit! This was not good. Gerard was far too coffee and nicotine deprived to deal with crowds. Damn Frank and Mikey and everyone else for making him go out. The familiar feeling of claustrophobia clawed its way up his throat as his eyes darted around looking for an exit. Every direction he looked the crowd was at least four people deep and growing. Cameras were out and he had never been so glad of his sunglasses as he was now, as flash after flash filled his vision.
‘Oh my god! GERARD!’ a girl of no more than 16 years was the first to break ranks. Head to toe in black and a face full of piercings she grabbed onto his arm making him flinch. ‘Y-you saved my life!’
Oh no, she was a crier! Gerard never knew what to do on these occasions. As he tried to twist his arm out of her surprisingly strong grasp he could already see heavy black mascara pooling with tears. ‘Things will get better.’ he muttered. Yes, it was a cop out. Yes, it was his tired standard response, but he’d been caught unawares, unprepared. This only made her cry harder.
Another girl pushed through the crowds shouting ‘Gerard! I love you!’
Within seconds he was completely surrounded by crying, shouting, screaming fans. Grabbing at him, pulling on his clothes, reaching for his face and hair. His heart hammered in his chest as he searched for a way out but he was hemmed in on all sides. ‘Hey! Hey! Give me some space okay?’ But his words were drowned by the hysteria surrounding him. Pens and various pieces of paper thrust in his direction as more and more people tried to push through the crowd to get to their hero. This was getting dangerous. His hands were still wrapped around his hot coffee and the six pack of beer as bodies pressed against him. It dawned on him then what a fucking spectacularly bad plan this was. A fresh stab of panic shot through him as he felt a hand trying to reach under the case of beer to reach his junk. Jesus fuck!
With difficulty he pushed himself up onto tiptoe to try and see over the crowd but it was just bodies as far as the eye could see, cameras flashing causing a strobe effect against the walls and ceiling. If only he could signal to the store clerk or something but he couldn’t even see the counter. The noise from the shouting and screaming was making his ears ring and the heat from all the writhing bodies was making him prickle with sweat.
A sudden surge in the crowd made him stumble and drop the cup of coffee, splashing its contents over his hand and down the chest of one of his pursuers causing both of them to scream. But there was nothing either of them could do, pinned in place as they were. Tears pricked his eyes as the scorching heat burned into his skin as he mouthed ‘I’m sorry!’
Now he had a hand free he realized he could reach his phone. A silent prayer of thanks went up to Brian who had insisted after Gerard lost his fourth Blackberry, that he was only allowed a Nokia 3310. His trusty Nokia that had survived being dropped more times than he could count and only needed charging once every three days. With practiced ease he tapped out ‘SOS 7 11’ the buttons so familiar he didn’t even need to see them to send the text. Thank god for technology. Now all he had to do was try not to get trampled to death before help arrived. Easier said than done as yet another foot landed on his toes and that hand was yet again trying to reach under the crate of beer clutched protectively in front of him.
After what felt like an age but in all likelihood was less than ten minutes he heard the booming voice of Andy, head of their security making its way through the crowd ‘MAKE ROOM! MAKE ROOM!’ Piece by piece the crowd pulled away and the face of his savior came into view. Gerard was so thankful he had to choke back tears. Swiftly he was surrounded by Andy and four other guys dressed in black polo shirts and sporting earpieces and CB radios. Forming a protective shield around him they quickly pushed their way back through the crowd, Gerard safely contained in the centre. Once outside he could see two ambulances and at least three police cruisers, Fuck! He kept his head down as he was hustled into a waiting van with thankfully blacked-out windows. He sank down into the cool leather seat, relief washing over him he could finally breathe.
‘Any injuries?’ Andy was very much in charge of the situation.
‘Huh?’ It took a second for the question to register as Gerard’s thoughts were still scrambled from adrenalin. ‘Oh, yeah.’ He held out his injured hand. ‘Got fucking coffee split over me. Burnt like a motherfucker.’
Andy nodded in acknowledgement. ‘We’ll take you to first aid then once you’re patched up we’ll debrief.’
Debrief. Whenever there was a security issue there was always a debrief after. It was protocol. How did it happen? Why did it happen? What lessons can we learn so it doesn’t happen again? Gerard sank further down into his seat. He already knew how that would go. Why did it happen? Because Gerard’s a fucking idiot who can’t be trusted to even go to a fucking shop without people loosing their goddamn minds that’s why. At least he still had his beer which he didn’t even have to pay for, he realized with a small smile. Silver linings and all that.
In no time at all they pulled into the parking lot and Gerard was escorted by Andy to the first aid tent. There was really no need for protection now they were safe inside the artists’ area but he didn’t feel like he was in a position to argue. A medic quickly assessed his hand then used a freeze spray to instantly cool his skin which felt amazing. He was in the middle of having his hand wrapped with what looked like saran wrap when a familiar head of bouncing curls entered the tent. Instead of focussing his attention on Gerard though, Ray addressed Andy. ‘What happened?’
‘This idiot somehow forgot he’s a famous teenage heartthrob and decided to go shopping.’ The way Andy said ‘heartthrob’ was clearly meant as an insult. ‘It was a fucking mess. There were at least two kids that got crush injuries and have been taken to the ER for possible broken bones. A few have more minor injuries and are making their own way to urgent care.’
Gerard felt the color drain from his face. People had actually ended up in hospital? That was crazy.
‘Gerard was lucky to only get a coffee burn.’ Andy continued. ‘It could have been much much worse.’
Ray finally looked at him then, or rather at the now bandaged hand, his forehead pinched in concern. ‘What were you thinking?’ His eyes slid down to the pack of beer sitting beside Gerard’s chair and his frown deepened but he didn’t comment on it.
‘I just needed to get some cigarettes man. I didn’t think-’
He was cut off by Ray, ‘Yeah, exactly. You didn’t think.’ Great, now Ray was glaring at him. Did everyone hate Gerard today? Was it national ‘be a dick to Gerard’ day? He could have been seriously hurt! Where was the sympathy? Where was the concern? But Ray had already turned back to Andy. ‘Debrief?’
‘Yeah. Let’s do it now.’ Andy reached for his radio clipped to his belt. ‘All security staff debrief outside bus two. Repeat: all security staff debrief outside bus two.’
Usually a security debrief included the security team, the road crew and the band, pretty much everyone except the drivers so when they reached the bus a small crowd had gathered outside. Everyone was there, everyone that is, except Frank. Where the fuck was Frank? Mikey was standing on the opposite side of the circle from him so he tried to attract his attention to ask him but he was stubbornly avoiding his gaze. What the fuck was his problem?
Andy cleared his throat to get their attention. ‘Okay everyone. We had a security incident at approximately 11:06 today. Gerard was mobbed by an out of control crowd at the 7-eleven on Piedmont Avenue opposite West gate six. Gerard sustained minor burns to his right hand from a hot beverage but was otherwise unharmed.’ He looked down to check his clipboard notes as all eyes turned to Gerard. ‘There were multiple crush injuries sustained by people in the crowd, several of which required hospital treatment; however no injuries appear to be life-changing or permanent.’ A few gasps and a murmur ran round the group. ‘Understandably local PD and the event organisers are pissed. They want reassurance that this will NOT happen again.’ Gerard felt himself sinking as all eyes turned to him again.
‘From now on, any member of the band MUST be accompanied by a minimum of two security staff anywhere outside of the artist’s zone, and I mean ANY where’ He looked pointedly at Ray, Gerard and Mikey in turn. ‘This means you will have to TALK to each other and coordinate so the team isn’t spread too thin. In fact, if you do need anything from outside the area send a crew member to get it. Any questions?’
Gerard was tempted to ask ‘Where’s Frank?’ but he didn’t want to draw even more attention to himself.
Andy looked from face to face but no-one had anything to say. ‘Alright, if there’s no questions then you can all go about your day.’
The crowd gradually dispersed and Gerard searched out his brother once again, spotting the back of his denim jacket he chased after him and grabbed his arm. ‘Hey MIkes! Wait up!’ Mikey reluctantly slowed to a stop. ‘Where’s Frankie?’
Frowning, Mikey pushed the bridge of his glasses up to the well worn indent of his nose. ‘He’s gone.’
For a second Gerard thought he must have heard wrong. ‘Whaddaya mean gone?’ as soon as he said the words something clicked. An argument. It was nighttime somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. A truckstop. Everything was kinda hazy. There was shouting. His temples throbbed as he tried to remember and he rubbed the pressure points with his fingers.
‘Everyone has their limit Gerard. Even Frank.’ What was not said but still evident in his face was that even Mikey had his limits.
‘But…But…what about the show? How long is he gonna be gone for?’ A bubble of panic rose in his chest. This was big. This was huge. Frank had never walked out on a show before.
‘Cortez is covering. I don’t know how long he’ll be gone for. You’ll have to ask Brian.’ Each sentence was clipped as if it was physically painful to even talk to Gerard.
The mention of their manager made his stomach churn. News of the 7-eleven debacle would’ve no doubt reached his ears and Brian would have no problem tearing him a new asshole. It was a conversation he was hoping to avoid.
‘Shit.’ They already had Jarrod stepping in for their drummer and now Cortez would be covering Frank. It just wouldn’t be the same but the show must go on he thought bitterly. ‘Can I bum a smoke?’ With all the drama he still hadn’t managed to score some cigarettes and his hands were itching with need.
Mikey opened his mouth to say ‘no’ but then apparently changed his mind and with a sigh of resignation handed the packet over. ‘Keep them.’ That seemed to signal the end of the conversation as Mikey turned and walked away.
‘Thanks.’ He muttered to his brother’s retreating back as he shook a cigarette from the carton and dug around his inside pocket for his lighter. His fingertips brushed the smooth plastic of a baggie. Score! There were definitely some type of pills in there. The type of pills that could melt all of the stress and aggravation away. The day was suddenly looking much brighter. He just needed to grab his sketch book from his bunk and then find a quiet spot to chill the fuck out. Feeling much lighter he made his way to the tour bus, the door of which was already wide open no doubt to air out some of the stench caused by many sweaty bodies rammed in like sardines in a can day after day.
He climbed the stairs and looked around but the living space was blissfully empty. The bunk area too was deserted but he could make out the faint sounds of Ray practicing in the back room. Ray was a creature of habit like that. You could always find him either playing guitar or on the playstation. Gerard felt like Ray was the metronome of the band. The steady, reliable beat that kept everyone on track. You could always rely on Ray.
As he approached his bunk his eyes couldn’t help but skim over Frank’s bunk below. The bed was still made as before, but the backpack was noticeably gone from the foot of the bed. So he really was gone. What the fuck was up with that? So they’d had a fight? Big deal. People fall out and argue all the time on the road, it was just a part of tour life. The next day you share a beer and it’s all forgotten. Why did Frank have to go get his panties in a twist and run off like that? How could he just up and leave the band like that ? Asshole. Well, fuck him. They didn’t need him anyways, Gerard was the star of the show. A fucking rock star! He grabbed his bag with his sketch pad and pens and headed back out into the sunshine.
After wandering aimlessly up and down the rows of tour buses and gazebos and tents he eventually found a grassy area with a maple tree in the centre, under which sat a man who looked like he’d been pulled straight out of the seventies.
‘Adam!’ He waved excitedly at his friend. Not only was Adam Lazarra an awesome chill guy to hang with, he was also known to have the best weed in the business.
Adam waved a lazy hand in his direction, with what was clearly a blunt trapped between his first two fingers. ‘Gee-man! Long time no see bro! Come and take a weight off.’
Gerard sank next to him thankful of the shade provided by the leaves above. Without even prompting Adam handed the joint over a big smile on his face. ‘Dude! I haven’t seen you in forever! How’s it going man?’
Taking a slow drag Gerard thought over his reply. Immediately he felt relaxed and floaty. Damn this was good weed. ‘Fucking crazy! Did you hear what happened this morning at the 7-eleven?’
Adams' eyes went comically wide. ‘Shit yes! What the hell happened dude?’
Feeling himself start to relax Gerard leant back against the trunk of the tree. ‘I don’t fucking know man. I just went out to get some cigarettes, next thing I know I’m surrounded by all these crazy psycho fans. Like, they were ALL over me and this one chick kept trying to grab my junk.’
Adam’s eyes went even wider. ‘Shiiiiiiiiiit!’
Gerard took another drag and handed the blunt back. ‘Fucking crazy, man. Security had to come get me out and now we’re not allowed to go ANYwhere without at least two security.’
‘That’s wild dude! I’ve had a couple of intense fans but nothing like that.’ He shook his head as if it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
‘Oh yeah? Like what?’ Adam was clearly a handsome man, so Gerard had no doubt he had his own legion of devoted fans.
Closing his eyes Adam took a large drag of the nearly spent joint. ‘Y’know the usual stuff like trying to find out what hotel room we’re staying in, phoning everyone called Lazarra in the phone book yada yada.’
‘Yeah.’ This had happened to Gerard and in fact the whole band so often that fake names were used at every hotel and they were usually escorted in through a back entrance. ‘I once had this girl write me a love letter, well I assume it was a love letter as I didn’t actually read it, written in what I’m pretty sure was her own blood.’
Adam screwed up his face in disgust making Gerard giggle. ‘Ewwww! That’s so….unhygienic!’ The joint now finished was extinguished into the dirt beside them. Gerard felt disappointed as his buzz was only just beginning. That was until Adam pulled out a cigarette carton inside which half a dozen pre-rolled joints stood proud. He offered the open pack to Gerard.
Grinning widely Gerard pulled a joint from the pack. ‘Oh, hey! Do you wanna beer?’ He pulled his six pack closer and worked a can loose.
Matching his grin Adam held his hand out. ‘Now we’re talking!’
Patting his pockets for his lighter Gerard found the baggie of pills again and pulled them out. There were two that looked like xanax, but another four that were god knows what. He took one out and swallowed it down with a mouthful of beer. While he swallowed he offered the bag to Adam.
‘No, man. I can’t.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’re on in like an hour so I can’t get too fucked up. That’s the trouble with being in a small band, they put us on early. But come find me after and we can party okay?’
Nodding, Gerard stuffed the baggie back into his inside pocket.
‘What time are you guys on?’
Gerard shrugged. ‘No idea. Someone will come get me when it’s time.’
Adam stared at him in disbelief, making Gerard burst into giggles again.
‘I’m the lead singer! They can’t go on without me.’ Suddenly an image of Mikey, Ray, Frank and Bob stood on a stage in front of thousands of fans and just an empty space where Gerard should be popped into his head. The idea of their confused faces and then launching into Helena without Gerard singing struck him as the funniest thing ever, so much so he fell sideways laughing so hard. ‘It would be an instrumental!’
By the time Adam had to leave Gerard was pretty buzzed and wanting to continue the party. He gathered up his things and made his way back towards the buses. Time to make new friends! As he zig-zagged through the lines of vehicles he stumbled onto a group who were full-swing into a party. There were beers in coolers scattered around the circle and Gerard was thirsty. He zoned in on a guy in a black polo who looked kind of familiar and made eye contact. The guy smiled in recognition so Gerard took that as an in. ‘Hey! Mind if I join your party?’ He waved a pre-rolled joint that Adam had left him with as an offering.
‘Sure Gee! Just grab one of those lawn chairs over there and help yourself to a beer.’
There were a few chairs folded against the side of the bus so Gerard grabbed the nearest one but somehow it opened in the process and he tripped over it sending himself and the tangled chair crashing to the ground. The group erupted in laughter and after a beat he joined in, face down sprawled on the dirt floor, the world spinning pleasantly around him.
‘You okay Gee?’
He rolled onto his back to see black polo guy offering him a hand. ‘That’s me. Gerard Way rock star and fucking clutz!’ He took the offered hand and pulled himself unsteadily up, almost unbalancing black polo guy in the process.
The guy patted him on the shoulder. ‘Good job you’re a singer and not a dancer hey?’
‘I can dance!’ Gerard protested. ‘See! I can shake my ass for anybody.’ He illustrated his point by shaking his hips and nearly fell straight over again.
With firm hands on his shoulders black polo guy guided him to a vacant chair. ‘Sit down before you fall down! Are you sure you want another beer?’
‘Fuck yeah! The night has just begun!’ A beer was exactly what he needed.
The next few hours passed in a blur of laughing, drinking and smoking with his new buddies. They were fun guys! There was Jude, David, Juliet, no wait Juliet had red hair, Alan or Andy or something that starts with an ‘A’, and…and…pfft. Whatever. Names are just labels anyway and Gerard was dead against labels as he’d tried to explain to the guy with the mustache. He was about to ask what the guy’s name was when the red sweaty face of Ray came into view clutching a black CB radio. A look of relief on his face when he spotted Gerard.
Ray pressed the button to speak ‘I’ve found him.’
The radio buzzed then the voice of Andy came through the speaker. ‘You need a hand?’
Looking Gerard up and down Ray replied ‘Yeah. He’s outside the Jimmy Eat World bus.’
So that’s where he was, Gerard mused. What was that song they did? ‘I was spinning free whoah oh-oh-oh-oh WIth a little sweet and simple numbing me.’ Catchy little tune.
‘It’s showtime Gee.’ Ray crouched over him, eyes scanning his face, assessing him.
Gerard tried to wave him off. ‘I’m jus’ a little buzzed. I’m fine. Jus’ some beer and some pot is all.’
‘Uh-huh, and what else?’ Ray was still scanning his face which was fucking annoying.
Gerard frowned as he tried to remember. ‘I dunno, jus’ some xannies or something.’
Ray squinted as if he could see inside Gerard’s skull and replay everything that had happened. ‘What did they look like Gee?’
Bored of the conversation and not knowing the answer anyway Gerard just blew raspberries instead.
‘Real mature Gerard. Real mature.’ A sound of running footsteps turned Ray’s frown into relief as Andy made his way through the crowd. He looked at Ray in question. Ray shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s taken, but he’s definitely stoned and drunk off his ass.’
‘Okay, let’s get him back to the bus and get some coffee in him.’ Andy and Ray took a side each and hoisted Gerard out of his chair.
There was the pleasant familiarity that they were back into their routine again. Gerard got drunk. Someone came and found him. Tour bus. Coffee. Make-up. Get on stage. 16 songs. After-party. Sleep. Start over again. The whole morning had been off-kilter because of Frank but they were back on track now.
As he was dragged/pulled onto the bus the smell of fresh coffee filled his nose. ‘Mikey!’ His brother was slouched next to the coffee pot, arms crossed in front of him. Gerard launched himself on him, wrapping his arms around his neck. ‘I haven’t had coffee ALL day Mikey! ALL day! Because…because of Frank. He didn’t make the coffee.’
Trying to pull his brother's arms off his neck Mikey replied. ‘I know Gee. There is coffee now. Have you eaten anything today?’
‘Uhhh….’ Had he eaten anything? Did pills count? How about if he ate them with a knife and fork, would that count? He giggled at the thought.
‘Okay you need to eat something.’ Mikey was talking to him like he was a child so he was going to act like a child.
‘Not hungry.’ he pouted, sticking out his bottom lip. Andy and Ray managed to pull him away from Mikey and onto the couch.
With a sigh Mikey rummaged through the food cupboard. ‘I’m gonna toast you a pop-tart okay?’
Ray handed him a mug of black coffee as Gerard repeated ‘Not hungry.’
Mikey completely ignored him and fed the pop-tart into the slot. Time was doing that weird thing where it speeds up and slows down at random and when Gerard blinked the next thing he knew Mikey was stubbornly handing him the now heated pop-tart. ‘Eat.’
Reluctantly Gerard nibbled a corner. He really wasn’t hungry and the pop-tart tasted weird.
‘Eat.’
He nibbled some more and washed it down with coffee. It felt weird in his tummy, like he could feel each individual crumb floating around in there.
‘Eat.’
He opened his mouth to eat a bit more but suddenly his stomach flipped. ‘Oh god!’ He slammed the mug on the table staggered to his feet, hand covering his mouth. Fucking MIkey he said he wasn’t hungry. A wet belch escaped.
Ray moved aside as Gerard staggered towards the back of the bus. ‘He’s doing sick burps, get out the way!’
Gaining momentum now Gerard pushed through the sleeping galley into the back of the bus and wrenched open the door to the tiny bathroom. He barely had time to notice the faint smell of bleach before he was on his knees and projectile vomiting. The plus side of not eating all day was that it was entirely liquid and easily flushed away. Once he’d stopped heaving and wiped his mouth a bony hand appeared offering an opened bottle of water. He took it and rinsed his mouth out.
‘You’ve got 10 minutes to get your make-up on before we go.’
‘Thanks Mikes.’ See, routine. Coffee. Make-up. Showtime. Easy peasy.
Once he was convinced his stomach had settled he made his way on unsteady legs back to the living area. Next to the only mirror his make-up box was sat ready. It was the first time that day he’d even looked at his reflection. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but the whole ‘living dead’ thing was their whole aesthetic anyway. He never bothered to remove his makeup after a show so all he had to do was top up the white base where it had rubbed away, add some red around his already bloodshot eyes, not forgetting the emo staple: black eyeliner, and hey presto! Ready to go! He grinned manically at the ghoul in the mirror. This was what the kids wanted wasn’t it? The vampire zombie rockstar Gerard Way. It’s showtime!
~~~
The show was a disaster. The audience was dead. I mean sure, Gerard stumbled around a lot and got some of the lyrics wrong, but it wouldn’t have fucking mattered if they’d just shown some fucking enthusiasm! It was like they’d never even heard their songs. Just a sea of blank faces and without Frank to bring up his energy Gerard struggled to keep up and that wasn’t even the worst part, oh no. Because the worst part, the absolute icing on the whole shit cake was that during Drowning Lessons Mikey’s fucking amp blew up giving him an electric shock that threw him across the stage. In that moment Gerard felt his heart stop. As he staggered over to his brother he muttered ‘Not Mikey, god, anyone but Mikey.’ But Mikey was already picking himself up and waved off Gerard’s concerns, irritated. The show must go on right? He could tell that Mikey was shaken up but any time he went near him to check on him he just ignored him or waved him away. Gerard really didn’t want the show to go on but he did his job. He got up there and sang the songs. So fuck Frank. Fuck Atlanta. Fuck everyone.
After the set he stormed off the stage ignoring everyone and headed straight to his bunk where he took the last of his pills with a shot of whiskey from the bottle he kept hidden under his pillow. Another day over, another gig done, and tomorrow we’ll do it again.
~~~