Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you accept?” The woman sitting across from you, who introduced herself as Elise Bowen, questioned. Elise interlaced her fingers while her mouth twitched. For the first time in your incredibly brief music career you found yourself in uncharted waters. Music now felt more like an angry monster you had to fight rather than something you adored.

The entirety of your band stared at you while awaiting your answer that would change everyone’s future for the better or for the worse. Unfortunately for them, you were never good at making rushed decisions.

“I mean… it’s a good deal. Really. But that deadline?” You spoke up, feeling every single stare at the table weigh in on you. Despite your carefully chosen words, mixed responses started from all over the table. Lea, who played lead guitar in your band, roughly kicked you from under the cheap diner table. You looked at her confused expression from the corner of your eye.

“I’m afraid it can’t be negotiated.” Elise replied, drawing your gaze back to her. Her shoulders tightened the longer the band offered each other conflicting glances.

“Give us a minute.” Kenzie, the bassist, stated monotonously while eyeing your current state of anxiety. Elise’s chair scraped roughly against the tiled floor of the diner leaving all five of you to sit and stare at each other playing a waiting game of who would speak up first.

Jesse, who was sitting to your left in the booth, started drumming their fingers against the wooden table. Their hazel eyes followed Elise as she made her way to the diner bathroom.

“Dude, how is this not an instant yes?” Jesse demanded while looking back at you. “Imagine the money we’d make, the tours!”

“Not to mention the once in a lifetime tribute show.” Kenzie added while sipping loudly on his sprite. You stuffed your face into your hands out of pure frustration. Flashes of you weeks from now furiously writing and scrapping sheets of paper over and over again instantly filled your over imaginative mind.

“Yeah it sounds great. But I don’t know if we— or mainly I, can write and create a unique album before the year ends.” You argued back while lifting your head out of your hands.

“It is August, four months is a tight deadline for an original album.” Shelly, who played guitar alongside Lea, joined in after nodding along to your statement. Jesse looked at Shelly and sighed.

“Look, the alternative scene right now is dead and has been for years. We have such an opportunity with this show and the album, don’t forget an actual manager!” Lea gestured to the table. “We could be big. We could finally be the band that speaks to fucked up kids and makes them feel like maybe they really aren’t alone.” The entire table fell into a wistful silence. All eyes fell on Lea. You pursed your lips. You thought back to all those shitty days as a teenager when all you had were your countless posters of various bands and headphones that were filled with whatever music you could play out of them.

Before you could even properly recuperate your thoughts, Elise came back clutching her black faux leather bag with a tight smile on her face as she pulled out the wooden chair and slowly sat down.

“So?” Elise raised an eyebrow. The question weighed even harder on you and manifested an ache against your shoulders. You found yourself looking at Lea. Her dark eyes were wide. In them you found a sparkle you hadn’t seen in the longest time. You pondered for the smallest of seconds. With a chest filled with fake confidence you looked back at Elise and swallowed.

“We accept.” You forced your voice to be strong and focused but it ended up sounding unnatural and pitchy.

After that small dinner on August 9th 2026, you spent every other day practicing and working away on music. Your overactive imagination was correct. Music became a ghost you had to face and tackle almost daily now. You found yourself constantly writing down and scratching off different lines and lyrics. Even at work when a customer obviously needed help finding a certain album, you were busy writing down something, and nine times out of ten it was something you would end up trashing anyways. The small two bedroom apartment you shared with Lea had turned into a trash dump for scrapped lyrics and a hoarding zone for stray instruments. Before anyone had realized, the date turned to October the eleventh, or as you had dubbed it; Doomsday part one.

“Twenty years ago on this day over a dozen people were killed and injured in a…fire. Tonight we honor their memory through Music, something they were robbed—“ But before you could finish reciting those words, your whole body had a jolt at the cold wet face paint Shelly brushed onto your skin causing your hands to crinkle the sheet of paper.

“Sorry, I know it's cold as shit, but we do go on soon. Kinda got to hurry this.” Shelly apologetically smiled while swatching more white face paint onto her brush. “The speech is sounding good though.” You sighed while folding the paper and placing it onto the old wooden table.

“Thanks. Honestly I’m just nervous about memorizing it.” You bitterly claimed while closing your eyes in preparation for the next glob of paint that was destined for your face.

“Can’t you just speak from the heart? Keep your eyes closed.” Shelly asked while dabbing the paint on your eyelid with a sponge.

“Elise gave me a whole fucking script, down to smiling and the in-between stories and banter. She strictly stated no elaborating. I mean I trust her judgement, kinda.” You muttered that last word with the slightest of bad tastes in your mouth.

“That specific? Jeez….” Shelly remarked before sighing. “ I mean in the past two months she’s definitely helped us a lot but she’s a little….. How do I put this….” Shelly leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips.

“Extreme and strict?” You brought up with a raised eyebrow. “Eccentric even?”

“She is a really good manager. She’s worked with a lot of big artists but her tactics are quite questionable.” Shelly agreed while grabbing her eyeshadow pallet.

“That fucking deadline….” A loud exhale left your mouth as you crinkled the black dress pants with a cross of your legs. “Only four agreed upon songs and the year ends in two and a half months.”

“Have you come up with anything new since Wednesday?” Shelly wondered while blending in black eyeshadow she meticulously placed onto your eyelids.

“A line or two, not that it’s any help.” You frowned while thinking back to the current state of your bedroom. “What about you?”

“There’s a riff I’m working on but I don’t know if it’s any good.” Shelly claimed while bringing the brush away from your eye. Your eyelids slowly opened to reveal Shelly with a slight frown on her face which was almost hidden by her deep ruby hair that was slowly falling out of its clip and cascading over her face. You swallowed while looking at her face. Thick air tinted the room over a mutual silence, one you couldn’t really stand given the circumstances. Shelly resumed her makeup duties and started contouring your face with more black eyeshadow.

“You know…” You broke the atmosphere with a hint of mischief in your voice. A slight smile had already appeared on Shelly's face causing her dimple piercings to crease only the tiniest amount. “I wish we could bring Frank Iero back to life and have him help us.” You joked and let out a yelp when Shelly lightly kicked the leg of your chair.

“For the last time we are not Frankenstein-ing Frank Iero from My Chemical Romance.” Shelly giggled while holding up a spray bottle of spirit Halloween fake blood in a threatening manner, but nonetheless you carried on.

“Oh come on! He was in a shit ton of bands back in the day, he has the experience. " You explained before Shelly spritzed the faux cold red liquid onto your face like you were a dog who just shit on the floor.

“As you’ve said the first ten million times— Look up.” Shelly put down the bottle with a thud after spraying your neck. “If we’re going to reincarnate anyone it should be Ray Toro. The man’s a fucking genius.”

You giggled in reply but quickly stopped when the wooden door creaked open. In came a very tired Lea with white face paint and fake blood that mirrored your look. In her hand she carried her suit jacket. Her dark braids had temporarily been pulled back into an incredibly thick pony tail leaving only her bangs to partly cover her face from when Shelly had done her makeup.

“Elise wanted me to tell you we’re on in twenty.” Lea announced before plopping down on an oddly placed leather couch in the corner. In an instant your stomach twisted at the news and reached for the paper again. If it weren’t for the constant worrying and studying its coarse paper would’ve felt unfamiliar to your fingertips.

“You need more fake blood? I’m about to put the bottle away.” Shelly questioned Lea while holding the spray bottle into the air. Lea picked her head up and shook her head.

“I’m so drenched in it that people mistook me for Carrie in the hallway.” Lea giggled but her smile immediately dropped when she saw you crinkling the white piece of paper. “Is everything okay over there?”

“I’m fine.” You blankly replied with eyes wide. “I’m just—“ You cut yourself off with a sigh. Lea tilted her head to the side. “This script is a lot to memorize.”

“Maybe we can help you rehearse?” Lea replied. But you simply sighed feeling a weird unexplainable pressure on your shoulders.

“Thanks but… I think I’m just gonna practice in the hallway. I don’t want my nerves to affect anyone.” You slightly smiled. Lea simply gazed at you and reluctantly nodded before instantly talking to Shelly about a move she wanted them to do on stage.

Behind the wooden door was a pale and desolate hallway. Its white brick reminded you of loud school hallways and jumbles of people with conflicting lives. From where you stood echoed loud chatter coming from the main stage. A loud exhale left your mouth as you found an empty spot on the wall further down the hallway. The whole weight of the world thickened deep in your chest and you softly unfolded the piece of paper. Line after line read the speech and script. Its details and exactness felt daunting and hung over you like a willow tree in an empty park.

Every hello and breath was planned to a tee, even how you introduced different songs on the setlist and outlandish motions for you to do on stage. No matter how hard you tried it felt impossible to process. The second you read and memorized one thing, you forgot another. Heels clicking down the hallway broke your concentration. In an instant you refolded the paper and shoved it into your back pocket while standing up straight.

“Elise.” You mumbled while slowly meeting her gaze. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tucked a strand of her short black hair behind her ear.

“Is everything alright?” She inquired while walking up to you. You swallowed deep in thought. Her whole demeanor was never one you could quite place. Her eyes screamed anger yet the rest of her face was completely relaxed. You couldn’t tell her anger from her contempt, and that made you squirm. Elise continued to stare at you while you pondered. Your mouth went dry, only managing to find enough saliva to utter a statement that could be shattered with a single phrase.

“The script.. it’s— Uhm.” You wondered with a voice that demanded answers yet cracked under pressure. Elise looked at you for a second and examined your face with a tightness that never seemed to let up.

“This show is a big deal for your band. I figured planning it more extensively would be better for PR.” Elise bluntly replied. “Your band is good, Great even. I see a lot of potential and I’m trying to bring it out of you all.” Her words confused you and your face slightly twisted. The atmosphere became thick and hard to breathe in, which only fueled your irritation.

“Elise with all due respect,” Your voice began strong but a twitch of Elise’s eyebrow caused your jaw to clench, “I don’t need— no. We don’t need a script on how to act on stage. My Chems whole thing was rebellion, giving a big fuck you and doing their own thing. Can’t we do that too at their tribute show?” You brought up and thoroughly examined the woman’s face. Her eyes shut for a brief second before opening them. Then she nodded causing any tension that was in your shoulders to disappear.

“Alright. However, you have to keep the speech. That does need to be planned.” With the way Elise spoke you would think you would’ve spotted a small smile on her lips or an ease of her brow. But you didn’t. “If you improvise, just be mindful about it.”

“Thanks Elise.” You smiled at her before she walked off with her hands clasped together. The twisted knot in your stomach had seemingly untangled itself as you fell back onto the brick wall.

You spent the remainder of the time back stage rereading over the speech until the words were harshly carved into your brain. Meanwhile you and everyone else in your band were buzzing about. All five of you were covered in dark suits with painted white faces and fake blood to pay tribute to My Chemical Romance's second album ‘Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge’. All five of you had something going on, whether that be stressing over an out of tune instrument or a jarring idea for the performance that could no way be planned in a short amount of time. It was pure orchestral chaos.

With only mere minutes left you decided to spend the rest of the time overthinking. Currently you stood backstage in a hidden spot, one where you could still see the crowd yet at an angle where they couldn’t see you. There stood excited fans of a band you weren’t a part of buzzing and conversing in shared band shirts and bangled beaded bracelets. You inched further and further out of your hiding spot to get a better look. The cheering was horrifying and reminiscent of banshee screams. A fan with bright hair and even brighter eyes made eye contact with you and smiled. You waved back like a hesitant alien who just arrived on earth for the first time and hadn’t stepped out of its spaceship in centuries.

Instantly you retreated further back stage with only three minutes left until the show started. The stage looked shiny. Too shiny. Your feet suddenly didn’t feel as planted as they did before. Then you looked towards the crowd. You thought of all one-thousand plus audience members (which still blew you away) laughing at a verse mixup; similar to the one you had done at yesterday’s rehearsal. You paced and paced trying to regulate your thoughts and focus on something safe. But everything you looked at caused a new thought of worry to ferment. Unfortunately you ended up triple checking the speech you still had yet to fully memorize.

“Twenty days— Fuck, years, ago.” You silently mumbled to yourself trying to recall what Elise had written, the piece of paper burned in your pant pocket. Yet you still resisted the urge to grab it as a failed test to your own memory. This wasn’t good. You couldn’t think nor focus. The crowd somehow grew louder in volume the more you tried to think back to Elise’s writing.

“You good?” Kenzie called a mere few feet away while conversing with someone from the crew helping him with his bass. Instead of honesty and being upfront, you shook your head and tugged out the crumbled paper for the last time.

Kenzie called your name another time but you regrettably ignored him, you didn’t even have a choice in the matter as the seconds ticked down faster and faster. Instead you waved him away with your nose stuck in the paper.

Each line swallowed more and more time until only one minute remained. Your mind was going a million miles per hour. You could not fuck this up, people at the incident, families even friends of the victims would be here to witness the event.

While you were mid line, the screams and chatter turned into a confused muddy sound and faded together. You looked up out of confusion only to be met with a slight blur at the movement. Throughout all of the noise you had heard it. A singular droplet. And it had landed right down onto the crumbled speech Elise scripted. You looked down, your eyes slightly widening at the dark red splotch that stained the white paper. Someone called your name, their voice cutting through the chaos right into your brain.

“Dude, your nose is…. Are you feeling okay?” Jesse asked with a comforting hand on your shoulder that wasn’t there a second ago. Everyone’s eyes immediately fell onto you, even the sound engineer that was fiddling with Kenzie's bass. Lea immediately dashed off to find some tissues without a second thought.

“Fuck.” You worded while reaching to wipe your nose with your trembling hand.

“Stop!” Shelly urgently screamed while hurrying over to you, her white guitar with red splatters on it lagged behind on her back. “You’re gonna smudge it. Ugh and I spent so long on your makeup too.”

“At least it blends in with the fake blood?” Jesse commented while scratching the behind of their head.

“Here. This was all I could find.” Lea shoved mangled toilet paper into your hands which you immediately used to stop the bleeding. “How are you feeling?”

“Be careful not to smudge the— face paint.” Shelly cringed while grasping the toilet paper after you accidentally wiped a little too much off. Past Shelly’s shoulder you could see the lights slowly dim and the audience immediately shrieked out of excitement in response. Right on cue, Elise appeared with a confused look on her face and a phone light in hand. Almost instantaneously she realized the situation and started urgently helping with the light.

“Okay. Okay yeah you’re right it does blend in.” Shelly sighed with relief just as the bleeding came to a halt and licked her finger to blend in some of the face paint you had wiped off. Elise took the tissues from Shelly and the script from you, looking absolutely disgusted.

“You guys are up. Don’t let the audience wait.” Elise announced with a disgusted stare towards the tissues. “Unfortunately we don’t have time to really deal with the….” Elise motioned towards your face. Disgruntled members of the band looked at you with concern, but instead they were all forced to walk out. First Jesse, who was followed by Shelly after she triple checked your face paint. Then Kenzie who whispered you a very quick good luck while checking his bass. Their silhouettes cast abstract shadows onto yours and Lea's faces.

“Feeling better?” Lea whispered. You nodded while trying to ignore the deep twisting inside of your gut.

“Yeah, it was just a nosebleed after all.” You replied with pursed lips and tense shoulders.

“I didn’t know you got those.” She remarked before patting your shoulder and slowly walking towards the blinding stage light.

“Me neither.” You mumbled to yourself while slowing following after her.

Chapter Text

Your door slammed with an angered shut. It’s sound freezes the tension that lingered in the air. You stood in the middle of your room unmoving, unable to properly react or do anything. The CD player carried on its deadly tune as if nothing had occurred. In fact it was the CD player that had caused such a conundrum in the first place, your parents were never ones who supported your love of music.

You could’ve— shit probably should’ve turned it off. But you didn’t, because deep down if you knew that if you did, it would’ve meant letting what just happened settle and rot inside of your brain.

Instead you wandered over to your bed with slightly widened eyes, trembling lips, and sat softly before letting yourself fall backwards onto the soft blankets. The overly enthusiastic vocals and guitar marched on in the background, completely ignorant to your state of mind. You found yourself slowly turning your head to the wall, it was a dance you’d done a million times before and a dance you’d be forced to do a million times forevermore. There sat the poster, its familiar design sent a slight warmth in your body that tingled slightly at your fingertips.

For an odd reason you couldn’t quite place; you felt hope.

You talked. You spoke to the men whose faces were strewn all across your wall with such a robotic and tired tone while attempting to sing along to the music. They simply stared back, and you felt idiotic for even thinking they’d move and offer a comforting word.

“If life ain’t just a joke then why am I dead?”

People in the audience cheered and screamed as the song ended. Looking into the audience you saw so many happy and hopeful faces, some phones were held high and arms even higher. Sweat was already trickling down the side of your head, probably messing up your makeup the tiniest bit; but you didn’t care.

Of course you found yourself looking at Elise for her approval. She stood off at the corner of the side of the stage; just barely peaking out of the shadows. Her arms were crossed, but you could spy her holding something— maybe her phone?

Her eyebrows were absolutely furrowed and her mouth was tightened into a very thin line.

Now anyone who had just met Elise Bowen would assume she was pissed off, maybe even angered at the ludicrous showcase your band had put on. However, you had known Elise for two whole months. One of her tells was the slight ease of her left eyebrow. When you saw it twitch when trying to leave its strangled place, you relaxed slightly and nodded.

You looked back at the audience, hopeful eyes stared up at you in ecstatic wonder. You could’ve done anything next— sung anything next; and that’s what’s so great about attending a concert for music you love. The anticipation; the adrenaline, and how could anyone forget the communal feeling of singing as one like a horrendous twisted instrument of emotion.

Yellow stage lights fell into your eyes as you nodded while reaching for your plastic water bottle and taking a swig, its slightly metallic yet neutral taste offering you some slight relief to your exhaustion. Secretly you hoped it would wash away any fears you had for the next bit of the show. The speech. You cleared your throat of any fear and possibilities before opening your mouth to speak.

‘No improvising.’ You repeated in your head while gripping the microphone.

“On this da-,” You began with an ear piercing microphone feedback causing audience members to groan in return and a few to harshly cover their ears. Not exactly the reaction you want on your biggest show, but you continued. In your peripheral vision, Elise had brought her hand to her forehead.

No Improvising.

You cleared your throat again while looking back at the crowd. It was fine; just breathe. “On this day twenty years ago, over a dozen people were tragically killed and injured in a fire. Tonight we honor their memory through music, music of which they unfortunately couldn’t hear on that night all those years ago.” Perfect. It was going great so far, maybe even exactly as planned. “We would like to offer all of the family and friends of the victims a huge thank you for being here tonight, it truly is an honor to perform in My Chems memory and also an honor to have you all here tonight. If you could please leave some donations at the door, it’s going to a charity to help victims of fires and help rebuild their lives. Thank you all so much for being here.” The crowd applauded after the speech. You looked towards Elise who gave you one singular nod of approval before resuming her usual stone-enforced composure.

The show carried on without a single bump in its entertaining road. Songs played, people jumped and sang their hearts out, and you even joked around with the crowd. It felt perfect; like this was where you were meant to be.

Lights dimmed to a soft glow adding onto the melancholic mood, even the crowd seemed to slow just the littlest bit. You adjusted your ear piece and exhaled in order to work yourself up for the next song. Unfortunately despite it being a favorite, it had a tax when it came to performing it. Even during yesterday's rehearsal, you decided to hide too much behind the lyrics and tissues were handed to you by staff at the venue. Not your best moment, unfortunately.

It’s melody had already begun like a ticking clock reminding you that time does spin by. Your mouth opened getting ready to sing the opening line, but beforehand you looked at Lea who raised an eyebrow at you and mouthed the words ‘you okay?’. Instead of responding you simply stared at her and pursed your lips before singing.

“Late dawns and early sunsets, just like my favorite scenes.” By the time you looked back at the crowd a few flashlights had gone up, which prevented you from seeing any faces in the crowd. Still not your best moment, you inwardly told yourself as the song continued its melodic tune.

Just like a curse; when you tried to start the ending verse you noticed the words didn’t quite come out of your mouth when you sang them. You looked over your shoulder to see Kenzie aggressively strumming his bass while his mouth twitched and nostrils flared. The overhead lights had been shut off— not willingly by the venue it seemed as workers walked out on stage. One in particular walked over to you looking estranged and worried while holding a clipboard. Something wasn’t right, that much you knew.

“Sorry— sorry but do you have a minute?” The worker shouted over the rising volume that had come from the crowd. You nodded while walking over and taking out your ear piece.

“Did something happen? What’s going on with the power?” Kenzie had demanded from behind you, when he got there exactly you were unsure, but he rested a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to listen to what the crew member had to say.

“The storm that was supposed to hit tomorrow came a day early.” He claimed while nervously tapping at the clipboard. “We have someone trying to get the power with the backup generator but…” Someone backstage you couldn’t see was calling him away.

“Shit…” You mumbled while biting the inside of your lip.

“I have a lot to do, but for now st— um… stay put.” He stammered nervously while stumbling away.

“Damnit…. Of course this happens.” Kenzie grumbled while taking off his bass. Lea had now made her way over to you while tightly gripping the neck of her guitar.

“What’s goi—,” But before Lea could finish her sentence a loud crash of thunder could be heard overhead. By that point the entire band was reunited; each of you had concerned faces with wide eyes that screamed dread and confusion. Kenzie explained the situation with great unenthusiastic wording while you decided to peak at the crowd, and only now you realized just how many people there were. It had to have been way over a thousand, you definitely hadn’t even seen that many people before in your life.

“It’s not that bad, I’m sure the power will be on in a bit.” Shelly claimed while what you think was crossing her arms. You looked back at your friends, each of them withheld their own doubts from the group but for some curious reason decided to demonstrate a form of agreement. You see, your friends had tells too; something you’d noticed long ago during one of your group hangout nights while playing cards. Kenzie picked at his finger nails when he was stressed (which you knew wasn’t the worst habit for a bassist but you still took notice of it), Lea tended to nervously fiddle with her hair, Jesse would drum their hands against an object or sometimes themselves, and Shelly would nervously tap her feet or fiddle with her thumbs.

You knew your bandmates, and after scanning their demeanors one thing was clear; this situation added a rocky road you were unsure of how to navigate.

Shelly was, either way, dead wrong. After a minute Jesse had decided to tug out their phone and start counting the minutes as they passed faster and faster. Only when 8:37pm turned into 8:50pm did you all start to gain restlessness.

“Alright we got to do something this is insane.” Jesse remarked while dramatically shoving their phone into their pocket.

“What do you suggest? Dude. Elise is nowhere to be seen and the guy told us to stay put.” Kenzie claimed while gesturing to the crowd.

Lea laughed, an empty half unapologetic laugh, one you had only heard once before.

“You would think the one time we need her crazy planning she would come in handy.” Lea bitterly remarked, while rubbing her frustration on her face with her hand. “Did her script she wrote for you include anything in case this shit happened?” Lea questioned while taking a step for you.

“Not that I can think of,” you shrugged, “If it did I definitely would’ve remembered it with how weirdly detailed it all was….”

“Well why don’t we try and look for her?” Shelly brought up while cracking her knuckles. “Or— Jesse, how about you call her?” Jesse nodded before tapping away at their phone then holding it up to their ear.

“We shouldn’t leave.” Kenzie rejected. “If something happens and we’re not here—“

“I’ll do it.” Your mouth spoke before you could even process. Everyone looked at you with a confused expression. “If only one of us leaves we can communicate with each other and we’re less likely to get yelled at.” You meekly brought up.

“Elise didn’t pick up, either that or her phone is dead. You’ll need to see, I’ll go with you so you don’t freak in the hallway and wander around blind.” Jesse suggested getting ready to move towards you.

“I’ll be fine,” You reassured, “the dressing rooms are only a few doors down the hallway, I’ll just get my phone from there. Besides, you should keep calling her.” Everyone hesitantly nodded in agreement. You split off from everyone and began walking backstage. You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Lea claimed apologetically while the two of you walked further and further into the shadows.

“It’s fine— I did mean it when I said I’d be fine alone.” You remarked while looking at the faint light that painted out her hair and clothes, but nothing else.

“Yeah I know. Honestly I’d rather walk around in the dark than do nothing.” Lea sighed. A few people walked past with their flashlights lightening up her face like passing cars on a dark road. “And I want to actually confront Elise about her abandoning us when we needed her.” You nodded in agreement.

“I’ll support you when you do.” You claimed.

A silence took over. Yours and Lea's boots thumped against the floor the farther you walked.

“So…. I noticed on stage, you didn’t follow Elise’s script.”

“Believe it or not, I did confront Elise about it— respectfully.” You were certain if there was light you would’ve found Lea looking at you pleasantly surprised.

“Good for you.” Lea enthusiastically said.

Somehow you and Lea had managed to make it to the dressing room using only your hopes and dreams (and also barging into random rooms). The room had, just like everything else in the building, been engorged in darkness. You decided to start with the table where Shelly had done your makeup. The feel of the wood was awkward yet solid and long. Until something rectangular and plastic had interrupted your mindless patting around.

“Well, I found mine!” You claimed while grabbing the familiar feel of your phone and turning on the flashlight, it lit up the room giving sight to stray bags and cases and odd miscellaneous objects. You pointed your light at Lea. Her figure cast a large shadow over the wall, outlining her suit and long braided hair that ended past her waist. Lea hummed pleasantly before stepping carefully towards her familiar black denim messenger bag she crafted herself that was covered in patches and pins and keychains from shows she liked.

“Oh wait fuck, Jesse texted.” You called while bringing the phone closer to your face.

“What’d they say?” Lea responded while fishing her phone from her bag.

“They’re doing acoustic music? I think it’s to calm the crowd.” You interpreted while wandering towards the door. “And Jesse couldn’t get ahold of Elise.”

“Great.” Lea stated while leaning against the white brick wall.

“You should go back to the group and help out.” You suggested suddenly. Leas exhausted expression twisted as her eyebrows furrowed and the corners of her mouth pointed downward.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to abandon you in the middle of a storm in a dark building.”

“Okay well— don’t phrase it like that. I’ll be fine. There's a better signal on the stage anyways and you need to do something. You’re better with crowds and with people, they might need you there. If I can get through to Elise once tonight I’m sure I can do it twice.” Lea stayed silent for a moment, her jaw tense as she pondered.

“Lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place you know.” Lea claimed before groaning and pulling herself off of the wall. “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

Lea slowly inched into the hallway and when she left; the room was darker, more unsettling. Lonely. Over head was a crash of thunder, one so loud it sent electricity shooting throughout your nervous system. You bent and twisted your phone-light throughout the room. Taking in the room one last time did nothing other than make you feel a surge of awkwardness in your body. A horrific storm and a missing manager was definitely not how you thought the night would go. Although, you decided, it hadn’t started bad at all thinking back to the beginning of the show.

Thunder could be heard pounding defiantly against the roof. Less and less flashlights could be seen the further you moved away from the stage. It was quieter; maybe even less chaotic. It felt peaceful, like a distraction from the tangled mess your career was currently in. You traced your hand against the rough painted brick. Every single door was shut tightly, its tan wood standing as a hopeful whisper for Elise’s presence but was proven to be an unfortunate let down every single time you slowly opened one.

But then while your hand was tracing along the brick and doors it got stuck on a door you originally thought was closed. Typically it should’ve just to slid over, but its little bump caused your feet to stop. This wasn't a door you had come across yet, and was carelessly closed; only being open by a centimeter.

You pointed your flashlight to the left. No one. Then to the right. Still empty. You held your breath as the door slowly creaked open with a weak grip.

“Elise?” You called loudly while peaking your head into the room. You shined your light inside the room and squinted your eyes hoping to find her dark hair and beige jacket slumped over some paper work, no matter how strange working in the dark at a time like this would be. Instead you found a staircase leading downwards into an endless abyss. The basement, you figured.

Now obviously there was a chance, no matter how small, that Elise was down there. But a dark basement? This wasn’t like the other doors you could just open, shut, and then walk away. Exploring a whole other floor would take up time and you weren’t exactly sure how much time you had. You bit your lip debating on just shutting the door and leaving Pandora’s box to fester its own monsters and look elsewhere for your missing manager. You tightly shut your eyes while thinking. You thought you knew Elise— no matter how much she would glare and frown you knew her well enough. Would Elise be the type to venture off into the dark unknown with a flashlight to help fix the generator?

With a grip of steel on the cold hard metal doorknob you began to slowly shut the door figuring you would try your luck elsewhere. But you stopped halfway feeling frozen in your tracks. A whisper. It was so faint you had to lean in to hear it.

“H-h…he.l..p.” A voice rambled urgently from below. It sounded slightly deep, yet had a strange hoarseness to it. You ripped the door wide open taking a step further towards the darkness to investigate.

“Are you okay? Did you fall?” You called down. You felt a morbid relief flicker in your body knowing the voice was too strangled to be Elise’s. But someone was down there and for now she was not your priority. They were. Then that someone didn’t respond—well not with words, only with a frightening whimper that choked on its attempt to speak.

“Shit…” You whispered under your breath while urgently pulling out your phone to call Jesse or Lea. In place of the service bar were the letters SOS. Your hands had begun to tremble. Just a second ago it had four bars.

“P….pl…ease.” The voice managed to spit out desperately, stealing back your attention.

“Okay, okay. I'm coming, just hold on!” You urgently replied while slowly walking down the creaky wooden steps and tightly holding your phone as a lifeline. It seemed no matter how much further down you went, the bottom just couldn’t be seen. The basement stairs stretched and stretched. Thump after thump came from your boots the more you traveled. Surely minutes, even hours must have passed. You tapped the cold phone screen only to see it was only 8:59. Was this worth it? What was the crowd doing? What about your bandmates? Was your performance bad earlier? Was it good? Did they hate you? Was your career a doomed one? Was any of it worth it?

Your mind was consumed by the questions. You began sprinting down the stairs in an endless spiral. The darkness never ended. The questions had only continued. It was doomed to fail, what it was, well, you had no idea anymore. But it was utterly pointless. You ran faster, and faster pleading for it to end. Until you couldn’t run fast anymore. Until your feet tangled into each other and before you knew it you were falling, and falling. And falling. Cold air cut harshly against your skin. Until it didn’t.

You landed on something ridiculously hard. Whatever it was had sent painful aches all over your body. A horrible pain began to radiate deep inside of your brain.

“Fuck..” Your hands shakily pushed against the thick concrete you had landed on, you groaned like a dead man struggling back into life. “Are you there?” You somehow managed to get out no matter how hard it hurt to breathe. Light. You needed light. They could be hurting, unable to speak. Maybe dead.

Please don’t be dead.

“Hello?” You repeated weakly while reaching around mindlessly for your phone in the dark. Instead of the familiar shape of your phone case you felt something triangular and plastic. Your head weighed heavier than bricks as you tried to lift it to get a better feel as to what it was you had nearly landed on.

It was a guitar pick; that much you were sure of. A lone, singular guitar pick that you fell practically head over heels on top of. You felt around some more from your phone only to feel the cold glass of your phone screen, which explains why the flashlight wasn’t available. You tiredly lifted up the phone to shine its guiding light onto the item. It was in fact a guitar pick, it was black and had some lettering printed onto it.

“F. Iero?” You mumbled with a sour taste of confusion overflowing your senses.

Chapter Text

The air was thick.

Too thick to breathe in, too moist to exhale. You were never the type to shy away from the dark as a child, but as you sat on the basement floor holding a dead musician's guitar pick all these years later your confusion blended roughly with something else. Horror.

Logically, this didn’t make any sense. Yes you were in New Jersey but your bandmates checked to see when My Chemical Romance last performed here; which was 2005. Whatever god was in the sky had casted its luck onto you because literally tumbling onto a guitar pick that would cost hundreds in this economy was less likely than finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

In the midst of your delirium, thunder shook the whole building. The stairs rattled and the floor murmured from under you. Instinctively you shoved the guitar pick away into your jacket pocket. You felt dizzy, even incredibly deprived of any sustenance. You wearily rested your head in one of your hands just taking one blink; a singular moment of rest. But when you opened your eyes again; the lights had come back on, giving view to how small the basement truly was. Well, compared to the first floor that is. You tried to wiggle around to get a better view of the area. A faint hum of electricity and other building quirks could now be heard in the air, it was also the only thing keeping you grounded in reality. With scanning eyes you checked all around where you were sitting. You were completely alone. The only things that were currently in your company were old props and even older music equipment that dated back to the 90s at the latest.

Then there was you. The only person in the basement. You were certain you had heard something. Was it all an elaborate prank? Had the sleepless nights filled with wasteful lyrics and riffs finally caught up to you? Your gaze shifted towards the stairs. Wooden and cracked steps led up to the basement door. You could only count ten of them, no more. No less.

It only took you twenty three years to finally lose your mind and any sense of reality you had left. You scrambled to stand up, in fact you could barely stand quickly enough. Exhaustion ached from the soles of your feet to the palms in your hands. Pain shot through your knees and arms when you even dared to make the slightest movements upwards.

“Is anyone there?” Your voice cracked as you called out loudly while using the stair railing as a crutch. Heavy boots began to thump against the concrete sending echoes all throughout the basement, you looked around scanning for the source of the noise. From the hallway entered a woman who was walking perfectly fine with, dare I say, a bit of pep in her step. Then she saw you, bent weirdly over the staircase squinting at her with tired eyes that hurt to even blink.

“Shit, what happened?” The woman asked while quickly walking up to you with a thick amount of concern in her voice, which you immediately noted to be heavy, but still higher pitched. Nothing like the voice you heard a couple of minutes prior.

“I fell, I think.” You said while staring at the stairs. She groaned and licked her lips while in thought.

“You’re the singer right? You’re not s’pposed to be down here y’know.” She claimed with a lecturing tone and a hand on your back that didn’t help with the pain at all. “Good news is you don’t look to be too bad off. Nothing broken.” She mumbled while eyeing your bent back, shaky knees and trembling hands that were clutching the railing for dear life. You weren’t sure if your current demeanor was because of the fear, or because of the pain. But it sucked.

“I know. I was…. Fuck it’s hard to explain. Did you, uhm, hear anyone else down here?” You asked honestly while scratching your neck immediately feeling unstable and shaky the second only one hand was securing you. She looked at you blankly as if you had floated into the air or turned purple.

“I definitely would’ve heard ‘em, or better yet heard something. I didn’t get to you sooner cause I assumed you were apart of the crew.” She shrugged while holding your arm. “Here I’ll help ya outta here but don’t come back down. Basements unfinished and shit. Don’t want a lawsuit, it’s not safe, as you can tell.”

“Thanks.” You nodded while she supported your back and helped you out of the dreadful basement, the journey seeming incredibly shorter than it was on the way down, your mind thought back to only a few minutes ago. It made no sense. Time itself had turned on its head.

“You gonna be okay goin’ back to the stage by yourself?” She asked with a firm hand on your back. You nodded and finally made eye contact with her.

“I’ll be fine. Sorry for the trouble I didn’t mean….” You trailed off. The woman patted your back and nodded apologetically before walking away. The guitar pick burned in your pocket, whether it was the fact that you knew it was in your pocket or the fact that it creeped you the fuck out you were unsure. An ominous feeling you couldn’t shake had already started to swell inside of you. More than anything you wanted to sleep it off and hope you’d wake up to a world pain free and sanity full. Instead you began your tiresome walk back to the stage. Walk is unfortunately a term that is being exaggerated. It was moreso a weak lean on the sturdy enough brick wall and stagger.

You had only managed to take a few steps before your phone aggressively vibrated in your hand, it was Jesse who hopefully had better luck contacting Elise than you did. Instantly you accepted their call and put your phone up to your ear.

“Jesse?” Your voice was very clearly shaken even though you tried keeping it steady.

“Where are you— Lea sai— eft to—“ You gripped your phone and held it even closer to your ear.

“Jesse? You’re cutting out— I can’t hear you!” You practically shouted into the phone.

“—und Elise. We a— rting the show.” Shit.

“O—okay I’ll be there in a bit.” You hung up on Jesse and let out a curse while moving one foot in front of the other as fast as possible. What a way to end the night.

It took you a minute or two (you think) to find your way back to the stage, but when you did you saw people rushing around with crumpled papers and shouting accusatory demands. There was a group of five standing in a circle, who you immediately recognized as your bandmates, and Elise. Safe and sound. Unharmed, unlike yourself.

“There you are! Wow, what happened to you?” Jesse remarked while marching up to you, everyone else in your band was following closely behind each with a surprised expression on their faces.

“I only left you for seven minutes, what the fuck?” Lea pondered while looking at your limping state. Seven minutes. It didn’t feel like seven minutes to you.

“It’s nothing, don't worry about it. Just tripped and fell, that's all.” You reassured her, but then made eye contact with Elise whose arms were crossed angrily. “I see you found Elise.”

“I was on the phone with a friend and didn’t realize the power had gone out until I made it to the stage a couple of minutes ago.” She berated with an angered tone that felt misdirected. “Speaking of which you all go on in three minutes. Just skip over Early sunsets and start with Deathwish. Please don’t do anything stupid. We can’t handle another mishap tonight.” With that she rushed off yet again with furrowed eyebrows and a stone hard frown. The second she left everyone got to work tuning their instruments and preparing as if nothing had occurred.

“Is everything okay?” Kenzie asked in your ear after he kept looking back at you when you sat down on the floor two minutes prior. Your hand was firmly tucked into your suit-jacket pocket gripping the odd guitar pick. It couldn’t say Frank Iero, you told yourself. Maybe it was one of Leas and you made the whole thing up or better yet you accidentally grabbed it after figuring out a song last night.

“I’m fine.” You affirmed trying to seem normal and readjusted your posture despite loudly wincing at the movement. “Today’s just been… long.” Kenzie raised an eyebrow but gave you a side hug you cherished by leaning into. He broke away to grab his bass and stand up straight before pivoting back towards you.

“We go on in a bit. Here.” He held his hand out to you. You pursed your lips and nodded, taking his hand and pulled yourself up. You winced. Harshly. For the second time in thirty seconds. But Kenzie didn’t bother you with questions, instead he stood next to you and helped you out onto stage after the lights went off and the stage lights went on signaling for your grand appearance. Walking onto the stage was painful especially with an LED light blaring in your face, but you quickly made it to your microphone, with the help of Kenzie of course.

Cheering instantly flooded in from the crowd, and with it came an applause. It was reminiscent of the noise at the start of the show, which made you feel a bit sentimental. Hope wasn’t lost after all. You apologetically waved towards the audience while staring at their phone lights; which were slowly going out and being swapped with glowing faces.

“Rough fucking storm out tonight. Sorry about that, but don’t worry we still have a few songs to get through.” You reassured the crowd, a few applauded and cheered. With a readjust of your ear piece, you gave Lea the signal to start the opening chords for Its not a fashion statement it’s a fucking deathwish, which was another favorite of yours.

You carried on with the show leaning on the microphone stand and keeping your movement to an absolute minimum (although you did get a bit carried away and fell to your knees at one point, which did help your scream in vampires will never hurt you). By the time it ended you were covered in sweat, water, and god knows what else limping to the dressing rooms with the help of your tired but jittery bandmates.

The absolute relief you felt exchanging your dress shirt and suit jacket for the hoodie you luckily remembered to bring was otherworldly. (You had also managed to sneak the guitar pick into your hoodie pocket.) Not to mention the feel of properly washing off all the real and fake blood from your skin.

While your bandmates chatted you decided to sit in a corner on your phone; scrolling through social media with your hood up and strings pulled. Now of course your band wasn’t exactly the most popular, but there was still a very small community in a dusty corner of the internet that liked to interact with each other about the first album your band had put out over a year ago; and of course niche concert clips from a few shows you’d done months back.

MCRs community however had only grown in numbers since their untimely demise. You saw a post praising your singing abilities, and another bashing your performance for the second half of the show; but you didn’t mind. The feedback made you feel seen, only a little bit anyways. Your mindless scrolling through the dissonant chorus was interrupted by someone a few feet away from you, their words coming out as a surprise.

“See you in a bit!” You heard someone say followed by a pair of fading footsteps. You looked up from your phone only seeing Lea and Kenzie still in the room. See you in a bit. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“ ‘See you in a bit?’ You guys do know it’s almost 10 o’clock at night, right?” You wondered while looking at them.

“Oh. Right. You were looking for Elise at the time…” Lea said while scratching her now free arm as she had exchanged her suit for shorts and a band shirt you bought her as a birthday gift a few years back.

“We’re going out to eat as a celebration for the show. Are you, y’know, up for it?” Kenzie asked with legitimate concern. Your stomach twisted.

“I would, I'm just tired and….” You trailed off, still feeling the physical effects from earlier, not even bothering to think about the mental ones. “It’s late anyways.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. We’ll see each other tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter anyways.” Kenzie shrugged before waving and walking out with his bass slung over his shoulder. Lea's arms were crossed as she wandered over to you and leaned on the wall.

“I’ll bring you back food.” She nudged your shoulder with her hip.

“You don’t have to.” You claimed while looking up at her. Black bangs fell into her eyes as she stared back down at you.

“No I will. But if you change your mind you know where to find us.” Lea nonchalantly shrugged while getting up from the wall.

“Lea…. Did you think the show went well.” You questioned her. She turned to look at you and smiled.

“Well to be honest, it started good, I was a bit worried in the middle of course.”

Instinctively you let out a groan.

“Tonight went great! Look, if you do want to come out I’ll buy your food.” Lea claimed while briefly touching your shoulder. She slid her messenger bag over one shoulder and guitar over the other.

Reluctantly you pulled yourself off of the rusty chair as Lea watched and patiently waited. The two of you slowly wandered down the now lit hallway side by side.

A large red exit sign sat above the door, Lea opened it while holding the door open. Instantly cold October air filled your nostrils and sent a haunting chill down your spine which granted you a shiver.

“I’ll walk with you to the apartment. If you think I’m gonna let you hobble around New Jersey at night you’re fucking crazy.” Lea lightly joked as she shut the door. Instinctively you shook your head and opened your mouth to reject. Your feet had other plans as they crookedly limped on the wet pavement causing your shoes to slide and almost trip you. Ten seconds passed before you properly regained your balance and composure. You clenched your teeth together before breathing out an exhausted sigh.

“Okay fine. You can walk with me.” You muttered in defeat. Lea cheered and strutted up next to you.

Through the clouds peaked the moon who soulfully watched over the two of you the further you got closer to your apartment. Wind whistled through your hair as orange leaves fell onto the sidewalk in front of you. Chills ran through your spine, the autumn temperature fell through your body like leaves falling from the trees. Lea stayed by your side the entire (supposed to be) seven minute walk, the pain had only festered, yet never worsened. Weariness, however, only grew with every step.

The apartment building stood five floors tall, you and Lea lived on the fifth floor. It’s outside was a copper brick with cracks and leaves swimming up the side. The interior was cold and barren aside from the mailboxes and a vending machine that was hardly ever stocked. The elevator was of course, out of order. It’s sign annoying Lea as she whispered curses while guiding you towards the stairs.

You finally made it to the familiar grey of your front door after multiple failed attempts. Lea went ahead and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal the inside. With a soft goodbye she handed you her instrument before getting a call, who you assumed was Shelly, and immediately dashed away leaving you in her dust and all alone. The door shut carefully behind you when you entered. Your apartment was dark. Silent. Empty. Yet, it was still inviting. You walked further in taking note of the grey kitchen counter tops with a few dishes that needed to be done, Lea's bedroom door which had a chore list written neatly on a whiteboard, the messy papers covering the couch making it unusable, one of Lea's acoustic guitars, and then your bedroom door. Safety at last.

It opened silently and slowly revealing your queen sized bed and bookshelves filled with different genres of music, books, and dvds. You practically jumped out of your boots before peeling off your hoodie and pants, trading it for a random black shirt you had lying around. You crept your way to the window while narrowly avoiding your own old guitar and peeped outside trying to spy Lea. Right across from where you stood was the cemetery, its same gated walls stood a yard off of the ground as cracked gravestones covered a large area from behind it. Then you spotted Lea; jaywalking and crossing the road to quickly get to the other side. Her phone was presumably in her pocket; the phone call must not have lasted long. She took a right and began her journey towards the diner. You sighed out of relief, usually you wouldn’t have minded hanging out with friends but sometimes you just preferred your peace and quiet, especially on a night like this. Having people worry about you constantly would’ve only done nothing to help your condition.

You found yourself gazing at the cemetery across the street, being stricken with pure contempt. Branches and leaves softly blew in the wind. Animals ran up trees, leaves fell. Currently the cemetery was empty, aside from a few flowers broken hearted family members had left at graves. But it was peaceful. You felt a strange sense of comfort looking at it, drawn to it even. Tomorrow, you decided, you would visit the cemetery and put a few flowers on the graves, maybe even volunteer to help the groundskeeper clean up a bit as you had done a few times over the years.

In the meantime your stomach grumbled loudly begging for food. Lea’s words about bringing you back food floated in your mind. So instead you closed your curtains and turned around to lay down on your bed; figuring rest would do you some good anyways. Instead of the quilts and duvets galore you were met with something small and triangular that laid perfectly in the middle.

The guitar pick. You hesitated in your step.

“How did that get there?” You whispered to yourself before carefully walking around it like it were a cockroach on the floor. You picked up your jacket. Its pockets were empty. It must’ve fallen out, you assumed, no, prayed.

Carefully you inched forward keeping a close eye on the guitar pick. You looked left. Then right. It was only you in your room. Without a second even passing you snatched the object up tracing its design and carvings with your fingers. They hadn’t changed in the past hour. It was still the same.

“Frank Iero. So I’m not completely insane.” You mumbled to yourself, relief threatened to reveal itself in your voice. The posters that hung over your bed suddenly caught your attention. You’d had these ever since you were a kid. It was an emotional attachment to paper, as your parents had put it when they threatened to tear your posters down. But you didn’t care if it was paper. In some drastic cases there were times that the paper and plastic sheets on your walls were the only reason you were still here. You scanned the walls looking past posters Lea had gifted you years ago to ‘make it more roomy’ when you first moved in and posters from bands you’d bought at concerts. Your entire demeanor eased up when you finally found what you were looking for.

There he was. With short black hair and hazel eyes. Frank Iero. The man who had caused you a great amount of pain and torment tonight despite being dead. A guitar pick. Of all fucking things.

“Why a guitar pick?” You demanded with a firm tone. He stared back at you, of course; as he was a poster. 2D. Not real. Or not alive to be more accurate. God, maybe you were fucking crazy. His eyes looked pleading, like they were trying to portray a message— one you couldn’t seem to pick up on. You groaned and reached towards the half sized bookshelf that sat in the corner of your room and pulled out a CD, one of your bootlegged ones.

“Just what I need.” You muttered while reaching towards the somewhat portable grey stereo and putting the CD in, turning up the volume a few notches, and pressing play.

Heartbreak in stereo by Pencey Prep, it took you ages to burn the CD and even longer to draw its original album cover design and shove it in a case. It’s start was abrupt, but honestly Frank's voice was one you were fond of and oftentimes throughout your years found yourself falling asleep too. You laid back onto your bed curling in on yourself hoping for just one good day soon— for just some good news, whether that be for you or someone else in your band. Before you had even realized it you were out in the darkness of your mind sleeping softly, like a baby hearing a lullaby after countless sleepless nights.

Chapter Text

Spring time at the paramour mansion. The birds were chirping a merciful tune, the sun was shining brightly, and the flowers were finally blooming. All of these were things Gerard observed through the window while writing down anything that sprung to mind. Their lips were lightly squeezed together as he leaned back and tapped the pen against the paper to the tune of a song he couldn’t quite hear yet.

Gerard shook his head and mindlessly flipped the paper off into the distance with frustration. He watched it lightly float to the ground; the only reason they didn't crush the paper and crumble it into a wrinkled, hopefully unreadable mess was because it had potential— potential he couldn’t quite fully grasp.

A loud creak caused Gerard to sharply turn towards the door, only to find the door frame empty and the door wide open. Shadows danced around the purple walls in the hallway as they stared expectantly waiting for someone to come into view. No one wandered by, in fact all they could hear was the distant ticking of a clock. Gerard’s throat began to oddly burn as he stood up walking towards the door. Their hands trembled as he reached for the chipped and scratched door feeling a squeeze around their throat. Phantom screams echoed in Gerard’s mind when he felt his fingers wrap around the cold metal.

“AH!” Frank jumped out with a smile and his hands high above his head like a dramatic ghost. Gerard jolted and immediately released their grip on the door handle.

“What the fuck Frank?!” Gerard snapped while breathing heavily, their hand clutched on their heart. A tight grimace had made itself very apparent on Gerard’s face.

Frank scratched the back of his head,“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to scare you that bad, if it makes you feel better I got Ray pretty good earlier.” Gerard glared at Frank. Frank took notice and his mouth began to form a fine line. “…and I brought you a cup of coffee since I haven’t really seen you in twenty-four hours.” Gerard relaxed as Frank handed him a Starbucks cup he must’ve placed on the floor.

Gerard took the disposable cup with a sigh. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it Frankie. Is the coffee maker broken again?” Gerard asked while taking a sip.

Frank hesitated before shaking his head. “No. I just had to get the fuck out of here.” Gerard nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what he meant while taking a deep sip of his coffee. It was bitter, he noted. Perfect.

Frank on the other hand was busy using his tongue to fiddle with his lip piercing. He seemed to be looking at the floor that was covered in papers, very deep in thought. Frank's head leaned forward just the tiniest bit, his voice low with a slight rasp when he spoke. He usually did this when he had something real serious to say, which was occurring more and more lately. Gerard firmly held his coffee cup to his chest in response, his eyebrows slightly knitted together. “Hey G.” Frank began with a serious stare at the room behind Gerard. Then he made eye contact. “Do you really think this album is—”

—————

Loud knocking pounded throughout your apartment. Immediately your eyes open, forcing you away from the fading dream you were already forgetting. A slight image of your spinning ceiling fan appeared. Trying to escape the inevitable played in the background— you must not have been asleep for very long. Faint light crept in through the cracks of the curtains. You forced yourself up into a sitting position feeling the force of gravity try to pull you downwards. Pain shot through your body when your feet landed on the cold floor. Thankfully limping had somewhat helped with your pain. Your whole face was still strained into a tight frown as you forced your way towards the front door.

“Lea?” You groggily asked while squinting around the apartment. No response, she must still be out. You took notice of the kitchen clock that sat above the oven; 10:17pm.

The front door sent shivers down your spine as you rested against it. Its circular lens revealed nothing. Not a soul, not a noise. Nothing and No one was there, only an empty hallway with a flickering light. You tried swallowing your confusion away but it didn’t help, you shut your eyes and tried thinking back. Knocking. That’s what you had woken up to, you swore it. This whole night had been a harsh attack on your sanity.

Faint screaming from your CD player could be heard from the bedroom. You forced your eyes back open in an attempt to ignore your need for sleep. Not even thirty minutes of rest. Your eyes felt lazy and struggled to stay open. Turning around to face the rest of the apartment did nothing to cure your exhaustion. Shadows bounced off every surface, a car drove by giving a temporary light to the papers, instruments and rare garbage that littered your home.

Like a clock striking 12, you checked your phone to see if anyone had messaged you. Only one from Kenzie. ‘Come out.’ Just two words sent about nine minutes after Lea had left. Your stomach growled, you weren’t even sure if you had eaten since breakfast. Truth be told, it was tempting you. You could stay home, cover yourself in scrapped paper and be found by Lea in the morning in a sorry state. Or you could not be alone for once; not be taunted by odd occurrences and deadlines.

Even now you could hear that small voice pleading for your help. You were tired, a mess of stress and angst. A slight taste of blood slightly filled your mouth, you hadn’t even realized you were chewing the inner flesh of your mouth raw while thinking. It made you feel…. Awake.

Without a second thought you stepped back into your bedroom. Immediately you spotted Frank Iero’s mysterious guitar pick pointing towards the window. You sighed at its unfortunate appearance. It seemed everything was telling you to go out with your friends, relax and have a good time and all that shit. You nodded mainly to yourself while tugging on some jeans and a hoodie and then quickly shoved your keys, wallet and phone into whatever pocket they could fit in.

For once you were taking a step to relax and meet peace; and you felt hopeful. Hopeful towards the future, hopeful for your career, your friendships— your band. It would all work out, you told yourself.

The second you exited your apartment it felt like you stepped inside a giant freezer. Your breath turned into puffs in the night sky. The moon's luminous glare was now hidden amongst clouds. You stepped your way towards the edge of the pale pavement, spots of leftover rain could be seen drying up. The street was empty, not a soul or engine could be heard. Effortlessly you crossed the two lane street and met the iron bars of the cemetery gates. Rushing across the street apparently had been a taxing idea. Your ankles stung and your chest hurt with every breath you attempted to take in. Iron bars met with your back as you leaned to rest. Maybe you should’ve brought some water, or better yet a bike so you wouldn’t have to walk. Recovery from your fall apparently is going to take way longer than a short nap.

Wind whistles through your hair with every glance around the street you took. Stores were dark and empty, alleys welcomed wandering cats, and branches had found a new home on the sidewalk after the earlier storm. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened up the messages app to text the band group chat you decided to come after all.

You were busy typing away a tactical message when in the corner of your eye you saw movement. Your fingers froze instantaneously. Chances are it was an animal; in a forest there was often no doubt about it. But you were alone at 10:30 pm with one of the biggest cemeteries in Jersey behind you. You didn’t move, instead looked out of the corner of your eye. Something was in the tree-line. You were sure of it.

Horror movies were a favorite of yours, you’d seen enough to know when to not be an absolute idiot and risk your life over something stupid. With a sharp pivot to the left you abandoned your post outside of the cemetery and walked, not ran, as fast as you could away from the graveyard. You had an album deadline to work with, a career that was finally going well. Today wasn’t the day you would die and you would make sure of it.

Crunch.

You ignored the noise, assuming it was some trash an asshole had decided to abandon outside of a graveyard of all places. But it happened again, and again, until eventually you stopped not even reaching the end of the cemetery.

With great hesitation you lifted your foot, hoping for it to be some litter. Triangular, that was the first thing you noticed. It was small and…. triangular. Hair on your neck prickled and the wind instantly paused its persistent movement. It felt like the world had stopped breathing just as you did.

You bent down and gently lifted the item. There wasn’t a doubt about it. A guitar pick. It was black and red, and on it was the name F.Iero. This felt impossible and improbable. Your heart thumped desperately in your chest. Someone had to have been playing a prank on you, but to go to such extreme lengths horrified you truly. Every bone in your body shook with worry. Its sharpest point directed to the graveyard behind you. Coincidence, that’s all it had to be.

You slowly turned around to face the ominous tree line that stood beside the graves. Something was there. A figure with human autonomy. Street lights nearby flickered and seemed to have only painted shadows across whoever, or, whatever it was. Someone or something was there. Watching.

Your gaze darted back towards the guitar pick in your palm. It pointed directly at the figure. A strange sense of deja vu tingled against your skin. You shakily shifted it with your fingers, but like a strange magnetic attraction it pointed back towards the figure. This was crazy. You must’ve hit your head too hard when you fell; or better yet, maybe you were still dreaming. Things like these happen in horror movies and while eating popcorn, not at 10pm on a Sunday in the real world. You shoved the guitar pick inside your pocket before quickly pushing back towards the diner while playing willful ignorance. This was a mistake, a simple false move by whatever god was at play.

Crunch. Must’ve been some broken glass, you figured. You shook it off and carried on. Another. Was everyone in the world littering today? Was the guitar pick god out here shitting guitar picks on the sidewalk for all to pick up?

But by the time you reached the sixth hit of plastic against your shoe, something warm clogged your nose and slowly dripped down. That high pitched drip of liquid landing against concrete sent shivers down your spine. Your hand hesitated to reach upwards towards your nose. Something dark and red poured down your fingers. You stepped forward out of pure instinct, the blood only getting worse and had now covered the lower half of your face and dripped down your neck. Metallic liquid crept its way through the cracks of your mouth causing a mortifying taste to overwhelm your senses.

“Fuck this.” You spat out while turning around and stomping your way to where the cemetery gates stood. Whatever was in store for you, whatever was about to happen, you wanted it over. You were hungry and just wanted a damn burger from your local diner and to bond with your fucking friends for fucks sake. Just tonight you’d fallen down a flight of stairs, trended on a small community online, and performed in front of your largest crowd yet; if you could do that you could do anything. Or at least try.

Your hand wrapped around the cold iron lock and chain, fortunately this wasn’t a problem. Befriending the groundskeeper a couple years back had thankfully come in handy. You grasped your keys and felt relief when you found its small dark metal. It unlocked with a click. With that same turn of your wrist, you felt the blood instantly stop and the wind resumed its dance throughout the air. With a tug of the chain and a push of the iron bars, you stepped inside. Gravel crunched underneath your boots.

Graves and tombs galore stood facing you, each shape giving you a seemingly knowing stare. Some of their flowers wilted away and laid dead petals on the wet dirt. The night sky was detrimental giving only darkness and little light, the street light was no help either as you could barely see past the first row of stone. You tugged out your phone and turned on its light and continued your venture forward.

A grave caught your eye, one you hadn’t noticed in your multiple trips to help clean or wander around at the cemetery. It had a phrase engraved into the stone that read, ‘this is not the end for us’.

You shined the light to where you first saw the figure. All you could see was the dark bark on the countless trees in the forest. Then movement. An arm, or what looked like one slowly revealed itself. You stepped forward a bit to get a better look. Something ducked further behind a tree, like the light was painful and it had to be avoided at all costs.

Dried blood weighed against your upper lip. You stepped forward aware of its presence knowing that whatever was supposed to happen, will happen. And whoever had caused it had made it perfectly clear there wasn’t another path you could wander down on, this was it.

It was definitely an arm you spotted, specifically an elbow. Then a leg moved just the tiniest bit. A person or at least it looked like a person wearing all black.

“Hello?” You called before your brain had even realized what it was you were doing. A head slowly tilted from behind the tree with hazel eyes so wide and shell shocked, your stomach twisted. What’s worse was, you recognized those eyes. A good chunk of his, yes his face was burnt off, leaving a large dark slab of meat exposed on the left side. Your body short circuited and lost its grip on your phone. Pitch black ruthless darkness trapped you in its endless void.

“Shit shit shit.” You cried under your breath. Leaves began to rapidly crunch and twigs snapped sloppily. Instantly you reached down and ripped your phone off of the mud, the flashlight was still thankfully on. You shined it towards the source of the noise now revealing the very person who had been haunting you at every opportunity this entire night.

Frank Iero had stood defiantly in between two trees in all of his frightful glory. His eyes looked angry. The skin around was dark, caved in. Terrifying. There was no color on his skin, it was reminiscent of a photograph from the early nineteen hundreds that had been through wars and conflicts of all types. Dark liquid decorated his suit and white dress shirt with uneven spotting, what the source of the liquid was, you were unsure. It stood as a mirror to the dried blood that had seeped down your body just minutes prior. You couldn’t breathe. You tried but it didn’t work. This wasn’t real— couldn’t be real. The whole world around you was moving rapidly and yet…. You couldn’t quite seem to keep up with it feeling trapped in your own head. Your body didn’t even feel like your own, rather a prison for ghosts to wander through. Hallucinations, that’s all this was. It had to be. The brain is an organ that works in incredible ways. In fact it felt like all of your organs were working in ways that couldn’t quite keep up with one another. Your throat lost all moisture, your stomach brewed a potion of toxic waste, and your mind was filled with feelings of Deja Vu.

Frank moved unnaturally towards you, his movements were sudden and desperate. But not efficient. His left leg didn’t lift quite right and twisted in directions no leg should ever be able to move in. It was a stagger, a desperate stagger. Instinctively you backed away unable to truly process what was happening. Five feet. Just five measly feet between you and Frank Iero, a man you’d admired for years and he smelled horrid. Its stench brought you from your downward spiral of emotions. Nausea burned deep in your gut begging desperately to pour out. He was right in front of you now, and moving ever so closer. A scent of burnt flesh and rotten food made you want to hurl. Frank fucking Iero. No. No you wouldn’t accept it. This shouldn’t be your reality.

“Stop.” You suddenly claimed with an outstretched hand. He stopped just as you asked and stood as still as a statue, his head lowering the slightest bit. But those eyes, they stared at you wide and full of emotion. Those eyes were the exact same you stared at when you felt the world was crumbling under your feet. Now you stood all these years later feeling helpless as you stared into them, and they stared back.

With every breath Frank took his chest rose and fell crookedly. Wind blew forcefully in between the two of you. It’s cold air flew beneath your fingertips as if it was trying to keep you steady in this reality. Crows screeched in the background as you swallowed in an attempt to sweeten up your throat to speak.

“Are you…. Frank Iero?” The words forced themselves out. They felt casual for the situation at hand. Maybe if he was alive and well and in his forties like he should be, they would come across that way. Frank stopped all movement, not even twitching. He nodded slowly, his eyebrows only furrowed more at your recognition of his identity. He had heard you. Frank Iero had heard you speak. He shouldn’t be able to do that. “Ca… um…. Can you speak?” Your voice was hoarse. What the fuck should you do? Twists and turns clouded your vision as you stared at him. Frank opened his mouth with a delay revealing dirty crooked teeth. The corner of his mouth tore the slightest bit to form a line to where his flesh was burned raw and decayed horribly, yet he remained silent. His mouth shouldn’t be able to tear like that.

“How did you even get here?” You interviewed mindlessly and stepped towards him just the smallest bit. He looked conflicted, his teeth remained exposed just the smallest bit. Belleville was far, very fucking far.

“How the fuck are you alive?” You didn’t stop, “What happened to you?” Your inward rambling had manifested outwardly while you took a few mindless steps forward. Frank's eyes widened even more, he stepped back slowly in response. “I don’t… fuck. Why is this happening? What should I do?” You muttered out with a trembling jaw. It was supposed to be a question, but one you didn’t expect Frank to answer. You looked back at him, a dark streak exited his eyes. Was he crying? He was. Another fell down his face.

Lightning struck in the sky and temporarily lit up the entire graveyard. A rain drop landed on your head and slid down your scalp. Then another. Rain fell insistently on both you and Frank. Frank. You had lost your fucking mind. There wasn’t a doubt about it. The two of you were forced into a hurricane, almost literally with the storm.

“Come with me.” You decided suddenly. Thunder pounded against the atmosphere right as you spoke. Your words had equally surprised you as they did with Frank. His eyebrows sharply rose when hearing the words, nearly touching the wet ends of his black bangs. “I have an apartment across the street, and a roommate but I can expla-“ Frank loudly growled in protest over the already thunderous rain. Regret was already taunting you. You hated lying to Lea. “Okay. I-I won’t tell her. But you should come with me to get out of the rain so we ca— um… Can figure this all out. I have my own room, bathroom, closet— at least to clean you up.” You pleaded with water seeping into your mouth the more you rambled.

Frank pondered for a moment before nodding, his eyes finally relaxed. He looked exhausted and was barely standing, it reminded you of a puppet on pulled strings. You gazed at his hands, both still attached and both tattooed. His left leg was bent at a 45 degree angle to the left.

“Do you need help?” You shouted over the rain and thunder. Frank nodded. You carefully walked up to Frank and cautiously moved his right arm over your shoulder, your other hand traveled up to his back and rested there no matter how strange it felt to do. You felt awkward looking at his scorpion tattoo, you weren’t even sure if he noticed you staring or not. Seven legs, you counted, just like in the photos. Your stomach only twisted into a tangled mess the more you verified his identity.

You brought your focus back to the task at hand; Lea would be on her way back soon, you didn’t have long. Rain splashed over and over pounding against the concrete. You and Frank made your way to the street, the only sound being heard was the chittering of water. All you could see was the glow of streetlights which guided your way to the building.

Your apartment was in the exact same manner you had left it in. It was dark, covered in papers and instruments, and absolutely silent. You looked at Frank's face, the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight. A rotten feeling festered inside your stomach.

“Sorry about the mess, if I had time to clean it up I would’ve.” You apologetically claimed while shutting the door with your foot. “Life’s shit.” You remarked softly.

You chaotically led Frank to your room while avoiding pieces of paper and a can or two, your door opened with a loud creak. You cringed while stepping in and gazing at the multiple My Chemical Romance posters on your wall. Frank didn’t react, instead he leaned against your bed frame, you noticed water still pouring down his face. In response you shut and locked your door in case Lea decided to barge in. You settled at the door for a second trying to recollect your thoughts. Cold metal snugged under your hand. You could smell rot and decay. This was happening. This was real.

You turned the bedroom light on and silently cursed at your mindlessly placed bootleg Pencey prep CD. Of course you had to be such a damn nerd and obsess over the very man who was now standing (with very concerning posture) in your bedroom.

After explaining how to use the shower, handing Frank a clean shirt and sweatpants, and a tooth brush; you were left alone with nothing but the sound of running water in the background. In the eye of the storm your stomach grumbled, your head loosely falling downwards in response.

The whole reason you left was because you were hungry, but at least now you weren’t so alone. If Lea didn’t bring back a burger and fries you were absolutely going to have a breakdown. What the fuck were you going to tell your band? Thunder distantly rumbled. You wondered if the storm was coming back for round two as you slowly walked towards the window, almost like a punishment. The clouds had grown darker, more angry. The rain sobbed its sorrows against the graves in the cemetery, you could see footprints from where you helped Frank. It’s scene made you hateful, towards who you weren’t sure. But you were tired. The woods had seemed more distant than they usually did when you gazed out of your window. Trees stood taller than they usually did, graves appeared more grim. In your depressive thoughtful spiral you saw something shift. Movement in the treeline, you were sure of it. Just like Frank did.

You immediately reached into your pocket for the guitar pick only to find nothing. Your bed. You turned around. It was gone. Frank's guitar picks had vanished.