Famous Last Words! (Frerard fic, also a bit of Mikey/Ray)

Spreading Like A Plague

Gerard's POV

We were all on the tour bus, except Mikey. He texted me earlier, and he seemed depressed, like he was angry yet so uncomfortable. I don't know how to describe it, so here's a little preview of our conversation on our phones:

Me: Dude, where the heck are ya?

Mikey: Erm, well, um...I'm coming. I'll be there LATER! Get off of my case!

Just one text message from him, and he seemed angry. He's never lashed out at me before. I try to shrug it off, but my mind was glued to Mikey, it seemed Ray was in deep thought too. Maybe he was thinking about Michael, he seems to have a right interest in what he's doing, like he's being protective. I take it as nothing, they are best mates anyway.

Anyway, so we were all in our bedroom on the tour bus, and we were all doing our own thing. I was sat on my bed, leaned against the wall with my legs crossed. I had a notepad that Frank got me for my birthday last year. I was making another comic, I got good skills as a drawer. Bob has a go at me for it, considering it to be showing off. I don't care. Frank was next to me, his head on my shoulder. He had a guitar in his hands, plucking some notes to an extent that it ended up being random notes and chords here and there.

Ray was sat on the other side of the room, on one of our chairs. He had his head on the back of it, bored of just waiting. He seemed to be deep in thought. Bob was fiddling with his drumsticks, tapping them on the end of his bed. It was starting to get a bit annoying, he was tapping the same beat that I nearly lashed out on him.

"God sake Bob, change the channel," Frank commented as he rolled his head so he was looking at me, a smile tugging at his lips. Bob looked up at the sound of his name. He turned his head in many directions before he realised that Frank wasn't exactly being literal.

"There's no TV," he stated, completely confused. Ray groaned as did Frank.

"I'm not on about the bloody TV screen you dimwit, I'm on about your tune, it's repeating itself. Find new material!" Frank snapped.

Again, Bob didn't catch on. "I only have wood drumsticks," his voice on one level, as if it was obvious.

Ray, Frank and me chorused a big groan at Bob's oblivity.

"STOP TAPPING!" Ray lashed out.

We all looked up, staring at Ray like he had his hair on fire, that'd be funny.

"Um, sorry," Ray muttered as he closed his eyes again, facing a different direction.

It went quiet after that. We were all in our own worlds, forgetting other people where in the same room. My hand raced across the page before I scrubbed a few lines here and there. But the only sound that could be heard was my pencil roaming across the paper. It was so silent that it was almost uncomfortable. I glanced towards Frank, realising he wasn't even playing his guitar. He was content on laying on my shoulder, breathing in my scent. His eyes were closed, but for a breif second they opened to stare at me. His soft smile making me shake a bit as well as feeling quite excited. I had no idea why I felt like that. I flashed him my one sided grin and went back to drawing. I was so into my ideas for the comic, making sure the bullet was drawn perfectly, not aiming in the wrong direction that I zoned out to everything else.

I then heard the door to our room on the bus slam open with such force it actually tore the door off it's hinges.

"You know what? HOMOPHOBIA IS SPREADING LIKE THE FUCKING PLAGUE!" a voice screamed with agitation, it was Mikey's.

We were all completely thrown off guard by his sentence. We all looked up slowly from what we were doing to stare at my younger brother in disbelief. Did he just say homophobia was spreading like the black plague? Please tell me I didn't just dream that.