TONIGHT WE'RE GOLD

NINETEEN

It's been a week since the tour started.

They're somewhere in Florida, Frank doesn't know where. He just knows he has to perform in fifteen minutes and that his vision is blurry, and he's maybe a little drunk.

'You okay, Frankie?' James asks, and Frank just nods, and takes another beer. 'You shouldn't –'

'Shut the fuck up.' And then they're walking on stage, the lights go off and the screen behind them lights up, showing lots of abstract images and bits of random videos. James starts the backing track, and just as the lights go on, Frank starts singing.

We're never good enough
Except when you've had too much to drink
To think, to care

These broken bones go nice
With that light you hate to see me in
'Cause it seems I'm a mess when you touch
(don't fucking touch me)

Only a few people react to them immediately, since they don't know what this is, or what the heck they're witnessing. Only a few recognize Frank from one of his other bands. But after the second song, they all start to dance, and Frank's face lights up.

It works better than the alcohol.

Though the alcohol helps him to sing and be somewhat energetic onstage.

He sings his heart out, unable to think of anything else other than the words he's singing and the crowd in front of him singing his songs.

By the end of his set, he's all sweaty and tired and he just wants to get rid of the adrenaline. Ever since the first day of tour, he found out who was the crew dealer, and he went to get something from him. A week later, he realizes, weed isn't enough to be numb and he starts doing coke. His body remembers what it feels like, all his senses are stronger, but his brain is somewhere else.

He knows he should call Gerard, but he can't do it like that.

He knows he'll be disappointed if he finds out. Even though he knew it would happen.

It would be better for everyone if he forgets about Frank. He doesn't deserve someone like him. Frank is just a bomb waiting to go off at any second.

It'll be better for everyone. No one will miss him.

He's too fucking high to know what is happening, but he notices a bunch of people getting on the bus. He's not sure who they are, or who invited them. He recognizes one of the guys from the other bands on the tour.

They have pills, and they're passing them around, so Frank takes one.

And then he spots him. Cortez.

They used to sleep around back before Frank got clean. He worked as guitar tech with his band, and he was younger, but he was a nice kid. He looks more grown up now.

'I see you're still fucked up,' he tells Frank as he approaches him.

'You're still a smart kid.' Frank offers him coke, and he does a line, before pushing himself to Frank, pressing their lips together, as if it was the most natural thing in the world and they never parted ways.

Frank knows it's just the drugs. He's not really thinking.

He knows it's wrong and Gerard would be so disappointed in him and most likely the engagement is off, but it doesn't matter. He kisses him back, ignoring what his brain is telling him. He just needs a body to get it off, to distract himself from everything. It'll be quick.

He pulls him to the back room, and closes the sliding door behind him.

They're too intoxicated, and all their movements are rough, all limbs, crashing against each other, almost falling. But he's warm and he knows what to do to make Frank feel good, even if just for a while.

He knows it's not the solution, but he feels a little better afterwards.

Maybe this is how it should be.

He's not made for steady relationships and sobriety.

Cortez is the guitar tech for one of the bands, so he's there for most of the tour, and him and Frank sneak out to fuck before the show starts and do lines in between sets and then fuck again afterwards.

The morning after is always the worst so he starts doing pills again.

By the end of the tour, he's puking onstage, and drinking the rest of the day. He tries to call Gerard but hangs up when he answers, and sobs in his bunk for the rest of the night.

They all see him getting worse and worse every day, but no one dares to say anything. James almost calls Gerard, but Frank stops him, throwing his phone to the wall. 'I don't want him here,' he says. 'I don't want him to see me like this.'

'Then, stop it, motherfucker!'

'You don't understand! I can't!' he yells, and storms out of the room, and then out of the building. A fan stops him for a picture, but he just turns around, with tears in his face, and says, 'I'm sorry, not right now.'

He gets on the bus, and finds his pill box under his blanket.

He just wants to not think for a minute.

Be numb.

Punish himself for everything he's done in the past couple months. For that first beer he had. For falling in love with someone so perfect knowing he could hurt him one day.

Gerard doesn't deserve him.

It would be better if he's just gone.

With that thought, he takes all of the pills, drowning them with whiskey, and keeps drinking until everything fades to black and he can't feel anything.

****

Gerard is already in bed, Lois by his side.

He can't sleep though.

He hasn't been able to get any sleep in weeks since Frank stopped calling.

He knew it was bad but not that bad. James texts him to tell him how he's doing, but he knows there's something he's not telling him.

He just wishes he could have stopped him.

And then, his phone rings.

It's James. 'Gee – fuck, I don't –' Is he crying? 'I'm sorry I woke you up –'

'You didn't.'

But James doesn't even hear that. 'You need to get your ass to San Antonio.'

No, no, no –

'Frank had an overdose. They're taking him to the hospital.'

No –

'He needs you.'

****************************************

I apologize for the pain... I promise the story isn't over, I care more about these babies than anything, and I wouldn't end it like this. But things happen.I hope you have a great day/night, and please let me know what you think :)love ya, xomontse