Eye Contact aka Frerard 2

Sweat poured from every single pore on his body. Drenching his tight, black clothing and dripping off the edges of his long black hair. The stage had to be a million degrees, or so he thought. Thousands of fans screamed, reaching a pitch so deafening, everything seemed to go numb. Gerard turned his back to the audience observing the other band members. Bob, so involved with his endless drumming, did not look back. His blonde hair dripping much like the observer. Mikey and Ray were simultaneously body banging to the beat screaming from the amps and microphones. And then there was Frankie, a stupid grin plastered on his face. His hazel eyes sparkling like every star in the sky. Eye contact. Gerard’s heart flipped in his chest as he turned back to the audience.

“Mama, we all go to hell. Mama, we all go to hell. I’m writing this letter and wishing you well, Mama we all go to hell.”

The addictive beat of the song gripped his body and tossed it around like a rag doll, no protest. Every screaming fan pelted him with the same raw emotion. Screamed it back. That’s what it was all about. Them, the fans.

“Well mama, we’re all gonna die, Mama we’re meant for the flies…”

Gerard poured his heart, every fiber of being into the last lyrics of the song. Looking back at the band when the final chord rang through the stadium, Gerard threw both of his arms straight up into the air, a motion of triumph as a curtain of sparks rained down on the stage. The heat penetrated his soul and became part of him. Like the numbing screams of the crowd just behind him. With one last wave to the audience the stage went dark, their cue to exit. The fans screamed even louder, if that was even possible at this point as My Chemical Romance exited the stage, all smiling, living in the moment.

“That was great!” Ray exclaimed. His white boy fro glistening with sweat collected from their latest performance on the Projekt Revolution tour. “It really was, wasn’t it,” Bob agreed, flashing a smile to the rest of the band. Gerard lay sprawled on the leather couch backstage, as completely exhausted as the rest of the band. Mikey, in the same position on the ground. It was like looking at a reflection. “You two really are brothers aren’t you?” joked Ray. Both chuckled.
“Where are we going tomorrow?” Frankie asked, completely oblivious to the sign on the door with the tour dates printed in an utmost organized way. Bob walked over to the sheet, checking off the places they’d been. “Let’s see here,” he said, pen in hand. “Just did Albany, tomorrow is,” a pause as he looked over the sheet, “Richmond.” He put the sheet back and plopped down in a black leather chair next to the unmoving Gerard Way. “Sweet,” Frank replied as he walked over to the human statue.

“Move your feet Gee, you lazy ass,” Frank demanded fully intent on sitting where Gerard’s feet now rested. “Okay Mr. Pushy,” he replied playfully as the rest of the band joined in on the laughter. Frank dropped down as Gerard reluctantly sat up, scooting over towards Frankie. Eye contact, and his heart did that flippy thing again. Oh those eyes, so beautiful, shining, loving. “Hey, Ray and I are gonna go find some coffee you guys,” Mikey Way gestured to the door as Ray stood up and followed him to it. “We’ll be back,” he said. They left without another word. Silence deafened the room to an unbearable state. “I think I’m gonna go with them,” Bob said, sensing the uncomfortable tension, or was it longing, gripping the room in a giant vice. “Alright, we’ll see you on the bus,” Gerard said, hoping to sound at least a little reassuring, unsuccessfully enough.

“So,” began Frank, “that was one show tonight, huh?” Gerard looked over at the man with the penetrating gaze. “Yea, it was.” Eye contact. It took about twelve seconds before both men were wrapped around each other in an embrace that God himself could not unwind. Gerard nibbled at Frank’s lip ring. Slowly, their soft lips pressed together and both were on the floor. “Gee,” Frank gasped, out of breath from the ‘venomous kiss,’ “you are amazing, you- you,” he stopped after Gerard moved from his lips to his collarbone. Teeth grazed flesh. Frankie couldn’t help but let out a soft groan of pleasure. It was so hot. Skillfully, Gerard slipped off his shirt, not letting go of the man in front of him, afraid of losing what they had going, than moved to Franks. Both were sweating as the pulse of drums raged on stage down the hall. “Oh Frankie,” Gerard kissed his neck. “I love you.” He grabbed Frank’s face just to stare into his eyes. “Gee,” he whispered. Eye contact. His heart leapt from his chest. He went numb, completely numb as the man below him pressed their lips together, in sweet ecstasy.