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Gerard was in his favorite place. The venue lights had just dimmed and the crowd roared with applause. It was hard to breathe and the room was way too warm as a result of all the bodies crammed together. Soon, the entire room would transform into a single, fluid mass. There would be sweat and tears and maybe even blood. It was only moments away now, and Gerard’s heart was hammering in his chest. He couldn’t wait.
Gerard found his place at the back of the crowd, where it was a little easier to breathe and move around. He would wind up in the thick of it like he always did, but for now, he wanted a little space. He fumbled around in his bag, trying to decide which camera he wanted to shoot with tonight. Lately, he’d been favoring analog photography and disposable cameras. He’d brought his digital camera just in case, but tonight he was really feeling the Polaroid. He pulled it out of his bag and turned it on. He didn’t need to check if there was film, there was always film. To say that this camera was special to Gerard would be an understatement.
Static burst forth through the speakers and the low rumble of a bass guitar filled the air, seeming to shake the floor beneath them. It was time. Four figures raced out onto the stage and took their places. The drummer shouted a quick “1,2,3,4!” and the band launched into their first song. The crowd was immediately in motion. People pogoed up and down in place, others started to shove and form a mosh pit. Gerard moved in sync with the crowd. He placed the viewfinder to his eye, waited for a moment, and took the first shot of the night. He couldn’t hear the snap of the camera going off over the roar of the music.
The band was gritty and punk, fast and dirty. It was only the opening act and the crowd was already giving its all. It was going to be a good night. Gerard shifted to the left and took a few more shots of the full band. Once they launched into their third song, he slipped deeper into the crowd and went for a shot of just the singer. She was short and loud and absolutely covered in tattoos from head to toe. Gerard snapped the photo and carefully extracted the print from the camera, stuffing it gently into the pocket of his bag. This was the only downside of shooting film at a show, you couldn’t see if the photos turned out alright until after. But for Gerard, that was part of the fun.
As much as Gerard loved photographing bands - he had made a whole career of it, and a pretty successful one at that -, the thing he loved most about shooting concerts was the crowd. People let their guards down completely, let loose, and gave it their all. Strangers who wouldn’t ordinarily approach one another on the street were comrades, if only for the night. When someone fell, there were five people there ready to pick them up. It was something uniquely beautiful and hard to describe, but as they said, a picture is worth a thousand words.
The crowd surged forward and Gerard lurched forward with it. The suddenness of the movement sent him into a brief panic, not wanting to drop his camera. He was in the middle of the crowd now, a few people back from the edge of the moshpit. Gerard turned his attention away from the band and towards the crowd, hoping to find an interesting subject to photograph. A young girl with bright red hair tapped the shoulder of the guy in front of her and yelled something in his ear. He nodded and a second later, he was lifting the girl up and putting her up to crowd surf. Gerard smiled and immediately knew he wanted to photograph this moment. Sometimes he would find people after the concert and give them the photo as a memento. This girl looked like she was having the best time and Gerard wanted to document it.
Gerard continued to snap pictures throughout the night. Two more bands played and then there was a brief interlude before the headliner took the stage. There was a moment of relief from the push and pull of the crowd, but not for long. The headliner came on stage and the crowd was immediately in motion again. Gerard took a few pics of the full band before turning his attention back to the crowd. His focus was on one person in particular.
The guy was short, or at least, shorter than Gerard, and every visible spot of skin was inked with vivid tattoos. He had short black hair with the sides shaved down and dyed fire-engine red. His face was decked out in piercings - his nose, eyebrow, and lip. High on his neck was a traditional-style scorpion, and Gerard couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Even in the poorly lit venue, Gerard could see the guy’s artwork was beautiful. Mentally, Gerard was trying to come up with a way to ask the guy after the show if he could take some shots of his tattoos without sounding creepy. So far he’d come up with nothing.
Gerard actually really liked this band and had come to see them, not to work, so he put the camera back in his bag and let himself enjoy the show. He sang along with the rest of the crowd and even indulged in the mosh pit for a single song. The guy with the scorpion tattoo had disappeared into the front of the crowd, Gerard hadn’t seen him in at least three or four songs.
Just then, someone bumped into Gerard’s side hard . The whole crowd was moving and Gerard didn’t think they’d done it on purpose, but shit, it had kinda hurt. Gerard turned to look at whoever had crashed into him and was taken aback when he realized it was the guy with the scorpion tattoo. He flashed a crooked smile at Gerard and mouthed the word “sorry” before disappearing back into the crowd. He was singing at the top of his lungs, having the time of his life.
Gerard found his camera again and carefully brought it up to his face. He tracked the guy’s movements through the viewfinder. He was a blur of motion, an unstoppable force. The band’s song ended and there was a brief pause before the next one. With the crowd temporarily stilled, Gerard had the chance to photograph the guy. He depressed the button to take the photo and he heard an audible click, then the whirr of the internal motors. He took the camera from his face, waiting for the photo to spit out. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Gerard frowned. He turned off the camera and turned it on again, hoping that would do the trick.
The crowd was in motion again and it took Gerard a while to get the guy in frame. The picture was going to be perfect - the guy's eyes were fixed on the stage, both hands in the air, his brow damp with sweat, and his mouth hung open. He looked really beautiful like this. Gerard snapped the photo and then moved towards the back of the crowd to get some fresh air. Something was wrong. No photo had been printed, again. What the fuck?
Gerard’s heart sped up, and not because of the moshing he’d done. No, something was wrong. But it couldn’t be… could it?
—-
It was a lazy Autumn afternoon and Gerard and Mikey had gone to the thrift store down the street from their apartment. The day was cool and overcast, so they’d decided to walk. Gerard walked lazily down the aisles, browsing the items and sipping at his iced coffee. Gerard joined Mikey in the books section, where Mikey was thumbing through an old paperback with yellowing pages. Gerard browsed the paperbacks and found a well-loved copy of Salem’s Lot, which he stuck underneath his arm. He already had a copy, but the cover on this one was way cooler. It was pitch black with a single red drop of blood on it. The image on the cover was haunting, just like King’s story.
Gerard wandered over to the electronics section. There was a ton of radio equipment and speakers, which Gerard had no use for. He and Mikey already had a badass sound system and record player. Gerard always liked to look at the cameras, even though they were mostly busted-up junk that didn’t work. That day was different, though. Gerard’s eye landed on a black Polaroid bag and he picked it up. It was heavy. He peeled back the velcro and peered into the camera bag. He pulled out a nice vintage camera in what looked like absolutely perfect condition. He inspected the camera, turning it over in his hands. It was a Polaroid Sun 660. Gerard couldn’t believe his luck. The thing surely had to be broken, there had to be some reason it was in a thrift store and not in a nice camera shop.
The price tag on the bag said $29.99. Yep, there was definitely something wrong with it then. Gerard set the bag back on the shelf and walked away, opting to browse the clothing aisles instead. But something was nagging at him. Maybe it was just FOMO, he didn’t need another camera, but something about it was calling to him. He backtracked to the electronics section and picked up the bag again. Something about it felt right in his hands. He decided to take it up to the counter and ask the cashier about it.
“Hi, do you know anything about this camera?” Gerard placed it on the counter.
The cashier was an older gentleman with bushy white eyebrows. He smiled solemnly at Gerard and shook his head. “Sorry, kid. I just work here.”
Gerard blew out a breath. Fuck it. It was only $29.99, he could stand to lose that much money. He placed the paper back down by the camera bag. “That’s okay. I’ll take it.”
–
Later that night, Gerard was sitting on the floor of his bedroom with the camera bag and a shoebox full of different types of film in front of him. He wasn’t sure what type of film the Sun took, but he was almost certain he had every type of film imaginable in the box. He hadn’t even thought to check it for film before he’d bought it. He thumbed open the film compartment and to his surprise, there was film already inside the camera. Score .
Something else caught Gerard’s eye. He frowned down at the camera. There was something besides film in the film compartment. He carefully extracted a piece of cardstock paper and turned it over. On the back, in neat black letters was this note:
“Congratulations on finding this camera! This is no ordinary camera. You will never need to purchase film for it, as the camera never runs out of film… unless you find the one you’re destined to love. The film only runs out when you photograph your soul mate. Please enjoy the journey and take care.
SK”
Gerard read the note over and over again. What a stupid joke. Whoever wrote this was obviously just pulling his leg. Gerard carelessly tossed the note to the floor and continued messing with the camera. He took a few test shots and waited for them to develop, half-expecting that they wouldn’t. But to his surprise, the shots came out perfectly. Something deep down in his stomach stirred. He went to sleep, plagued by uneasy dreams.
—--
It couldn’t be . It had been three years since the day he’d happened upon the camera at the thrift shop. He’d photographed hundreds of people and places since then. He’d turned it into a career. He didn’t always shoot with the Sun, but when he did, the pictures always turned out to be his best work. Gerard didn’t know how this could be, but the camera had never run out of film. He had never replaced the film, either. He didn’t really question it, until now.
The camera wasn’t working.
He tried again, desperately clicking the shutter over and over again. The flash went off, but nothing came out. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He completely removed himself from the crowd and went to the bar for some fresh air. The band was finishing their last song when Gerard took a seat at the bar and asked for a glass of water. He held the camera in shaky hands and continued to press the button, desperately hoping for a photo to pop out. He wanted to be wrong. He thought back to the night he’d first operated the camera and thought back to the neat black handwriting on the card inside the camera.
Gerard tried to reason with himself. The camera had been old and used, to begin with, it was finally at the end of its life. That was okay. The fact that he’d photographed the stranger and then the camera had stopped working didn’t mean anything. The crowd roared their final applause as the band exited the stage, promising that they’d be back soon. Gerard downed his second glass of water. He forced himself to breathe deeply, but he couldn’t seem to regulate his breathing. His heart was an erratic drumbeat.
Gerard swiveled on the barstool and watched as the concertgoers started to filter out of the venue. He tried to locate the guy with the scorpion tattoo, but couldn’t see him past some of the taller people in the crowd. Maybe he’d already left. Gerard was suddenly desperate to find him. He jumped up from the barstool and moved closer to the front door, hoping the guy would have to pass him in order to get out. Gerard’s eyes searched the crowd but there was no sign of the guy.
He waited by the entrance for another twenty minutes before giving up. The venue was mostly empty now, just a few stragglers left behind at the bar. The guy must have been one of the first people to leave. Gerard ran a trembling hand through his hair and sighed. The entire drive home, Gerard couldn’t get the stranger’s face out of his mind. When Gerard finally fell asleep later that night, he dreamt of the stranger.
----
Two weeks had passed since Gerard’s strange issue with the camera. He’d been extremely busy with work and had done a pretty good job at mostly forgetting about it. Whenever the topic rose in his mind, he shoved it back down. But that was having a huge impact on his subconscious. Upon waking every morning, he could half-remember dreams featuring the guy from the concert, but the details were hazy and they slipped away quickly.
It was Wednesday, and Gerard would be working late that night. He’d been booked to film a concert at the same venue he’d been to the other week. The venue was a hotspot for local punk and hardcore bands, so Gerard’s work brought him there pretty often. As he got dressed and checked himself out in the mirror, his mind turned to thoughts of the stranger. Deep down, Gerard had been hoping that he might be at this show, too. Was it such a stretch to think that the guy would go to multiple different punk shows? The rational part of Gerard told himself he was just being silly and shouldn’t get his hopes up.
The show started at 7:30 p.m., but the band Gerard was filming for didn’t go on until 9:00. He showed up to the venue just after 8:00 and took a seat at the bar, turning the stool around so he could face the stage and the crowd. It was a decent turnout for a weeknight, the venue floor was about half full. Gerard scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of a scorpion tattoo or the distinct black and red hair. He saw a few people he recognized, but none of them was the stranger. Gerard sighed and decided to start preparing for his filming.
Being side-stage while the band performed was actually perfect, Gerard thought. If the stranger did show up, Gerard should have no problem seeing him. He scanned the crowd one more time before turning his focus back to his work.
About halfway through their set, Gerard thought he saw the guy in the pit. His heart sped up and his brow dampened with nervous sweat. The crowd was moshing and it was hard to pinpoint the guy in the ebb and flow of the crowd. Gerard squinted against the venue lights, but the guy had left the pit and Gerard no longer had eyes on him. Maybe the guy would stick around until the end of the show and Gerard could catch him then.
Once the set ended, Gerard rushed from the stage to the back of the crowd. He stood halfway between the end of the bar and the front door, watching carefully as people started to filter out of the room. Just when he was about to give up, Gerard saw a short guy with black hair, about the same length as the guy from the other night. He was in the queue to get out the door, which was moving slowly.
Gerard was suddenly very nervous because he hadn’t planned ahead what he should say if he ever saw this guy again. The seconds ticked by like hours as Gerard waited for the man to reach the front door. Gerard began inching closer to the door, hoping he could casually slip outside behind the guy and strike up some kind of conversation. The guy was now standing less than 15 feet from Gerard. Gerard frowned and cocked his head, studying the stranger. It wasn’t him . The spot where the scorpion tattoo should have been was blank. When he moved closer, Gerard also noticed that although this guy did have some tattoos, there weren’t nearly as many as the other guy had. Gerard let out a disappointed sigh and mentally scolded himself. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy, this was real life, not some fucking rom-com.
–-
Another week had come and gone and Gerard had done a very good job at putting the whole situation with the camera and the stranger out of his mind. But now it was 2:00 in the morning and Gerard couldn’t sleep a wink. He’d been tossing and turning for hours with no luck. Earlier that day, he’d gone on a walk with Mikey and decided to bring his camera along to take some cool nature pics. He’d opted for the Polaroid Sun 660, hoping that whatever malfunction had happened the other night had corrected itself. Or maybe the thing really was broken, and Gerard could finally muster up the courage to toss it out. He’d tried to take five separate photos during their walk, but absolutely nothing came out. The flash went off, the camera whirred, but no photograph was produced. Now Gerard couldn’t stop thinking about the camera and the stranger with the scorpion tattoo.
Gerard grabbed his phone from his bedside table and opened the internet browser. He typed in the name of the local venue he’d been to the show at. If the stranger had attended one show there, maybe he would attend more. A lot of the bands that had played were local, and the guy probably hadn’t come from far away. Plus, he’d been really into the music, there was no way this guy didn’t go to a ton of shows or even play music himself.
He scrolled through the upcoming shows and saw one that caught his eye. There were a few punk and hardcore bands on the bill that he recognized and one that he didn’t. Pencey Prep . they must be a new band or from out of state. The show was tomorrow at 6 p.m. and Gerard would be off work by then. Maybe he could drag Mikey along with him for moral support.
–
Mikey turned down Gerard’s offer to pay for his ticket to the show. Mikey apparently had plans, but wouldn’t tell Gerard with whom . Gerard pouted in the kitchen until he had to leave for work. He’d resigned himself to still going to the show, with or without Mikey. Gerard’s stomach was churning but he felt a queer certainty that he would see the stranger again. It was hard to describe, but he just knew that he would.
With that in mind, Gerard decided to actually get ready for the show. He showered and styled his hair, which was just above his shoulders in length. He artfully applied a dark red eyeshadow and black liner to his eyes and wore a pair of barely-held-together black jeans, a wash-faded Thursday tee, and black Doc Martens.
Gerard arrived at the show at 6:00 on the dot, as soon as the doors opened. There were only a few other people there that early, and none of them were who Gerard was looking for. He’d brought his camera again, in hopes that if he did run into the stranger, he could try to photograph him again. Gerard wanted very badly to prove himself wrong.
By 7:30 the venue was nearly full and Gerard was starting to lose hope. He’d been watching people filter in through the front door and hadn’t seen anyone who even remotely resembled the guy he was looking for. With each new face, Gerard would get excited and then immediately let down again. He was basically resigned to the fact that his plan had failed and that he may never see the guy again. Oh well, he told himself. Might as well enjoy the show.
Gerard worked his way into the crowd, staying far enough towards the back that he could leave the crowd if he wanted to. The house lights dimmed and the crowd gave generous applause. Gerard wondered what kind of band Pencey Prep was going to be. They were on a bill with some pretty good artists, so they probably wouldn’t totally suck.
Nothing prepared Gerard for what happened next, though. He looked up from his phone when the band took the stage. Standing dead center with a white Les Paul slung low across his hips was the guy with the scorpion tattoo. Gerard felt all the blood drain from his face and his mouth went dry at the sight of the guy. He was in Pencey Prep? What were the fucking odds of that?
The band launched into their first song without introduction and the crowd responded instantly. They jumped up and down and threw their arms up in the air as the stranger screamed his heart out. They had a really interesting sound, sort of punky but with a keyboard player who looked slightly out of place. They were actually really good, Gerard decided. The singer commanded the crowd effortlessly, yelling out commands and egging them on. The mosh pit opened up and people looked like they were having fun. Gerard found himself smiling and tapping his foot along to the beat.
The singer announced that it was going to be their last song and panic struck Gerard. He had wanted to try to take a picture of the guy. He had to do it before they went off stage, otherwise, he might not get the chance. Gerard found the camera in his bag and held the viewfinder to his face, not really caring if the shot looked good, only that the singer was in it. Gerard clicked the button and put the camera down, anxiously watching for the print to come spitting out of the camera. Nothing happened.
Gerard shoved the camera back into his bag and quickly made his way to the bar. He sat down and ordered a whiskey and coke. He sipped greedily when the bartender handed over the drink. His head felt swimmy and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something weird was going on here. The note that had accompanied the Polaroid Sun flashed across his mind.
“This is no ordinary camera… the film runs out when you photograph your soulmate.”
Gerard shook his head to clear it. That was the kind of stuff that happened in science fiction, not in real life.
He was swept up in a million frantic thoughts when he noticed that two people had stepped up to the bar. Gerard turned to look at them and recognized them as the bass player and lead singer of Pencey Prep. The singer was ordering a drink and Gerard couldn’t help but notice the way the chords of his neck stood out against that scorpion tattoo. Gerard watched the man’s throat work as he swallowed down a glass of water. Gerard’s mouth hung open in a little o.
“You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Gerard jumped in his seat. The guy was looking at him dead in the eyes. He felt heat rise in his cheeks and he gulped nervously.
“Sorry, I… I was just spacing out. I didn’t mean to be a creep.”
“Whatever. At least you’re cute.” The guy dropped a wink and then turned his back to Gerard, heading into the crowd as the next band took the stage.
Holy shit. The guy probably thought Gerard was a total weirdo for staring like that. He really hadn’t meant to, but he’d been mesmerized. The guy wasn’t just attractive, he was totally fucking gorgeous up close. His jet-black hair complimented his pale complexion and he had the most beautiful hazel eyes. Gerard had to talk to him before he left tonight.
Gerard ordered another drink and downed it quickly. Nothing better than liquid courage. He stood up from the bar and headed into the crowd, scanning the backs of people’s heads for the guy with the scorpion tattoo. He picked him out of the crowd and positioned himself nearby, but not too close. Gerard didn’t want to creep him out even more. He tried his best to enjoy the music and pay attention to what was happening on the stage, but his attention kept returning to the stranger. He looked like he was having the best time, like he had no cares in the world. He swayed and danced to the beat and was the first person to jump in the pit when a heavier song came on. Gerard was really enjoying watching him let loose.
The band’s set came to a close and the crowd dispersed a little. Gerard stayed where he was and decided to pass the time by scrolling on his phone. He was waiting for the perfect moment to approach the singer of Pencey Prep and just had to bide his time until the moment came.
“Do you stare at everyone like that?”
The voice startled Gerard and he jumped a little. The voice had come from someone on his right. He turned to face them and found himself looking into the hazel eyes of the stranger.
“You looked like you were having a lot of fun. I’m sorry for staring.”
“Yeah, whatever. Wanna go outside and smoke?”
Gerard nodded and followed after the guy. They snaked through the crowd and came to a door at the back of the venue. They traded the hot, stale air of the venue for the crisp autumn night. Gerard was now regretting not bringing a jacket. The guy came to a halt in the back corner of the smoking patio and Gerard nearly ran into the back of him. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed one to Gerard. Gerard clamped the smoke between his lips and patted down his pockets, searching for a lighter, but the guy leaned forward and lit the tip of Gerard’s cigarette with the tip of his own. That shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, Gerard thought.
“So, uhm, what’s-” Gerard began.
“I’m Frank,” the stranger said at the exact same time and the two of them shared an awkward laugh.
“I was just going to ask you that. I’m Gerard.”
Frank took a deep drag from his cigarette. “Weird name for a weird guy. Seems fitting.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot,” Gerard said, rolling his eyes.
“So, Gerard , what brings you out tonight?”
“I saw the show flyer on the venue’s website and thought it sounded fun. I like a few of the bands. How long have you been in Pencey Prep?”
“Just about six months now, give or take. Do you play music?” Frank was eyeing Gerard with a combination of suspicion and interest.
“No, but I’m a photographer. I’m not working tonight, though.”
Frank hummed thoughtfully and finished off his cigarette. Silence passed between them and Gerard was almost certain that Frank was just going to turn around and leave. That made Gerard start to panic, desperately thinking of what to say to keep him here for a little while longer.
“Can I tell you something?” Gerard blurted out.
“You just did.” Frank gave him a crooked little smile. “Sure, go ahead.”
“So, I told you I’m a photographer. Well… I saw you here a few weeks ago while I was working a show.” Frank nodded and twirled his finger in a go-on gesture. Gerard did. “This is going to sound weird. Promise you won’t judge me.”
“Well, I already think you’re weird, so what’s the worst that could happen?” Noticing how Gerard looked a little hurt by that, Frank added, “I like weird. It’s okay.”
“So a few years ago I bought this old Polaroid at a thrift shop. When I opened the film compartment, I found a super fucking weird note inside. Here, I have a picture of it.” Gerard scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and quickly flick through his camera roll. He handed the phone to Frank and eyed him carefully as he read the note. He finished and handed the phone back to Gerard.
“Okay? And?” Frank quirked an eyebrow at Gerard.
“And… the other night while I was shooting, I tried to take your picture, but nothing came out. I tried to take a few more and still nothing. The film compartment was empty.” Gerard felt so fucking relieved to have said it out loud. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying that with him these past few weeks.
“And… you think that means we’re soulmates?” Frank asked, his expression unreadable.
“I think that a camera is just a camera and we aren’t in a sci-fi novel. But it’s been really bugging me.”
“It would bug me too.” Frank’s expression shifted into a flirty smile. “Wanna find out if it’s right?”
Gerard was taken aback by that. He had expected Frank to ask a billion questions about the camera or just straight up walk away from the conversation, but not this.
“What?” Gerard blinked several times.
“Let’s test it out and see if your camera is right,” Frank said this like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Gerard’s mouth fell open and he stuttered, thinking of how to respond. Luckily, he didn’t have to think for long. Frank was suddenly crowding into his space, their faces just inches apart. One hand fell to Gerard’s waist and pulled him closer, and the other cupped the back of Gerard’s neck. Frank was kissing him. It took Gerard’s panicked brain a second to catch up with what was going on. He felt his body relax and he deepened the kiss. Frank’s tongue searched the inside of Gerard’s mouth and his grip on Gerard’s neck tightened. Then it was over, Frank stepped back from Gerard and looked up at him expectantly.
Gerard’s mouth hung open and he was too stunned to speak for a minute. “Wow, Frank, that was…”
“Well, what do you think? Did you feel sparks? Do you have butterflies? Are we soulmates?” Frank was giggling and his cheeks went pink.
“I think no one’s ever kissed me like that before and I want more.” Gerard couldn’t believe how bold he was feeling.
“I think we can arrange that.” Frank reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He put in the passcode and opened up his contacts. He handed his phone to Gerard to put the number in. When Gerard finished, he handed back the phone. Gerard felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out. There was a text from an unsaved number that simply said: <3 xo frnk. “Wanna go back inside?”
Gerard nodded and let Frank lead the way. Frank stopped halfway across the patio and held his hand out to Gerard. Gerard took it. Frank’s hand was warm and soft against his own. Frank smiled at him and they headed back inside.
“
This is no ordinary camera…”,
the note had said. That was for fucking sure, and Gerard had never been more thankful for that.