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Frank was jittery. He wasn’t really sure why, he usually felt exhausted after a gig, especially the first date of a tour. This weird, nervous energy was something completely new. He knew some of his friends got an adrenaline rush after performing, but this didn’t feel like adrenaline—it felt like instability, like weakness.
He stared up at the ceiling, silently begging sleep to come.
He squeezed his eyes shut, as tight as he could. Opened them again. Rolled onto his side. This had been going on for what felt like hours, thinking if he could just get comfortable he could fall asleep.
But it obviously wasn’t working. Frank eased himself out of bed, tiptoed to the sink to fill up a glass of water. He took a sip, then set the cup back down. He slouched against the counter, tapping his fingernails against it rapidly. The dull tac tac tac sound did nothing to calm him down.
After a moment, Frank pushed himself away from the sink, and quietly slipped out of his room. He crept down the hall to the room next door, then hesitated.
Ray was in that room, probably fast asleep. While Ray would be more than willing to listen to whatever Frank had to say, and could come up with a perfectly logical explanation to whatever Frank was anxious about, did he really want to bother Ray with something as small as not being able to sleep?
Frank shook himself out of his stupor, and quietly knocked on the door. He stood outside for several seconds, finally resolving to return to his own room when the door opened. Ray had his hair tied into a ponytail, with his glasses perched on his nose. Evidently, he had been awake as well.
“You’re awake?” he asked, clearly a little surprised that he wasn’t the only one still up.
“Can’t sleep. Is it ok if I hang out in here for a while? I’ll go back to my room in a bit. I just… didn’t want to be alone.”
“Of course.” Ray moved aside to let Frank enter. “You okay? You’re almost always asleep first.”
“I dunno. I might be sick or something.”
Ray reached forward to feel Frank’s forehead. He didn’t really think about what he was doing, it was more instinctual than anything. Frank swatted his hand away. “Not that kind of sick.”
The room was silent for a moment, broken only by the soft pattering of Frank’s bare feet as he moved to perch on the edge of Ray’s bed. Ray sat down beside him, studying Frank with a slightly concerned expression.
Finally, Frank sighed. “Do you ever worry that… maybe you aren’t good enough to still be doing this?”
Ray cocked his head to the side. “Frank, you’re one of the best guitarists I know.”
“Other than you, of course.”
Ray smiled awkwardly, and waved his hand around to dismiss Frank’s compliment. Frank rolled his eyes, before continuing his thought.
“I’m not the same person they all loved before. I ditched the stupid mohawk, gained some weight… shattered my arm a couple times. Maybe I’m just not cut out to play our old stuff anymore.”
Ray shook his head, curly ponytail bouncing back and forth. “My Chem isn’t the same band it was twenty or ten or even two years ago when we performed for the first time after so many years. None of us are the same as we were back then, and that’s a good thing. Besides, whatever version of My Chemical Romance people are idolizing, it’s not the same without you.”
Frank let his head drop onto Ray’s shoulder. “Thanks. I needed someone to tell me I was just being stupid.”
“You’re not stupid. We’ve all doubted ourselves.” Ray hesitated. “I was pretty nervous about performing again too. You know, the fans always liked you better than me.”
“Fuck them. Who cares what they think? They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”
Ray chuckled softly, but there was a faint disappointment in his face that didn’t escape Frank’s gaze. “I know. I try not to let it get to me, but sometimes…” Ray trailed off.
Frank punched him lightly on the shoulder. “I get it. Sometimes when you’re alone you forget that you don’t totally suck.”
Ray laughed, genuinely this time. “Yeah. God, it’s so late.” Both guitarists were finally feeling exhaustion setting in after consoling each other.
“Do you mind if I stay a little longer?”
“Nah.”
They sat in silence for a while, Frank’s head still resting on Ray’s shoulder, while Ray absently fidgeted with the hem of Frank’s shirt. Eventually, Frank spoke again.
“I meant it when I said you were the best guitarist I know. You know that, right?” Anyone that can’t see it really isn’t worth your time.”
“Thanks. I think I really needed to hear that from you.”
The room fell silent again, while the two sat on the bed. After a few minutes, Frank’s head drooped forward, and Ray realized he had fallen asleep. He gently laid Frank in his own bed, before nestling as close as he could beside him.
“Love you,” Ray whispered, barely audible, before he too slowly drifted off.