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Gerard leaned back and let the wall prop him up as he cradled his lighter and cigarette, angling his body to shield the flame from any breeze that decided it wanted to fuck with him tonight. Once he got it lit, he took a long, hard drag on the cigarette, looking down and eyeing his scuffed-up boots.
He really needed new ones. The soles on this pair were starting to peel, and the laces were so frayed they threatened to fall apart whenever you did them up. He felt a little sad about it though. These boots had served him well. He'd stomped on a lot of faces with them.
Frank came outside then, spilling yellow light onto the brick wall of the alley as he banged the door open.
“You done sucking that groupie off?” Gerard asked interestedly, looking up.
“I didn’t suck him off, you freak,” Frank said. He came and stood next to Gerard and gave him a really suspicious look. “Why would you even think that? He was an ugly-ass motherfucker.”
“He bought you a drink, you’re easy,” Gerard started, ticking the points off on the fingers of his free hand.
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Frank said, and fished his own lighter and pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He rubbed his face with one hand, making the eyeliner smudge down his cheek.
“Looks goth,” Gerard pointed out.
“Do you ever shut up? Vocalists, I swear.”
Gerard shrugged, and they smoked for a couple minutes in silence. Muffled sounds from the bar inside filtered out through cracks in the doors and windows of the building, some shouting from the crowd and some off-key singing from the band.
Gerard was starting to feel a little less chilly, so he shrugged out of his leather jacket, letting it hang off his shoulders instead. He tapped his heel absentmindedly to the beat leaking out from inside, so loud you could just barely feel it vibrating through the soles of your boots.
Then the door banged open once again, and this time it was Mikey and Ray who barged out. Ray looked kinda… distraught. Gerard shrugged his jacket back on and stubbed his cigarette out against the wall as Ray jogged over to Gerard and Frank, with Mikey following, arms folded over his chest.
“Dude, the van is fucking busted,” Ray said shrilly, gesturing urgently with his hands. There was a beat before Frank said:
“What do you mean the van is fucking busted?”
Ray threw up his hands. “I mean the van is fucking busted, asshole!”
Gerard turned around immediately. “Frankie, go get us a van.”
“Excuse me?”
“Trade it for a blowjob or something, I don’t know--”
“What is it with you thinking I just go around giving random blowjobs for free--”
“Well it wouldn't be for free, it would be for a van, that's the point--”
“God, shut the fuck up!” Ray shouted. “This is serious!”
“I am being serious,” Gerard said, affronted. “People pay good money for a decent blowj!”
“You’d know,” Frank leered, and Gerard hit him. Frank hit back, and they became involved in a brief scuffle, cursing and punching at each other.
“No, seriously, what do you mean the van is busted?” Gerard asked after a few moments, releasing Frank from his headlock.
“I turned the key and it made a noise like my grandma when she died, and then it wouldn’t start,” Ray said flatly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. They all stared moodily at the ground in silence for a while. No van meant no touring, which meant no fucking point to any of their miserable existences. Fuck.
“We could steal a van,” Frank said.
“I am not going back to jail for stealing a fucking van,” Gerard said, scowling.
Frankie scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause we ain’t gonna get caught, boy genius.”
Gerard raised his eyebrows. “Really? Ain’t that whatcha said that time you broke into--”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Frank said, waving his hand and glowering. “This shit is different.”
Judging by his expression, Ray seemed ready to consider it, but Mikey interrupted, saying, “That’s a really fucking bad idea.”
It kinda was. Frank moodily blew some smoke and went back to staring at the ground. Gerard scratched at the inside of his thigh through the hole in his jeans. Fuck.
They stood in communal misery for a good couple minutes before Mikey said:
“So. Anyone wanna go back inside and get plastered?”
“Amen to that,” said Frank, and, for once, Gerard could agree with him.