Stomachaches (Frerard Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

Frank loosened his black tie just a little, staring at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He ran his fingers through his wet and knotted black hair. Frank had to examine his attire one last time, just to make sure that he looked some-what neat and clean for tonight's performance, even though he knew he didn't have to go all out- (he was going to a bar for fucks sake, not going out on a first date) he just wanted to make himself look professional enough just to play a show at this small shit bar filled with young adults and older scruffy men you wouldn't want to fuck with. Besides, He wasn't going to perform in just a white tank top and baggy sweatpants. I mean, who does that? Not Frank, that's for sure.

After one last check in the mirror, he was finally satisfied with the way he looked. Frank walked out of the small bathroom and into his room to grab his Epiphone Elitist Les Paul custom white guitar. He had to stare at it in awe for little just so he can admire the beauty. The guitar was pretty damn expensive. Around the time, Frank was desperate for a new guitar anyway because a little incident happened with his old guitar, Pansy. He still has the remains of her but they were now sitting in his little closet, collecting dust. He frowned at the thought before putting the guitar back in it's case and zipping it up, making sure it was protected. He picked up the case by the handle and let out a loud sigh.

Frank made his way downstairs and into his kitchen to grab his car keys. After he found them lazily placed on the kitchen counter, He snatched them and made his way out to the car. His car wasn't fancy or new or anything like that but it got him from point A to point B and that's all that matters. Frank inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. Letting the car run for a few seconds, he reached over and turned on the radio, flipping through the stations. He stopped, almost jumping up and down in his seat with joy once a song by The Bouncing Souls starting playing. It was called True Believers.

He immediately started to sing along to the song, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jean pocket, along with a lighter. He rolled the car window down just a crack while holding the deadly stick between his soft pink lips. It lit up with a simple flick of his lighter and took a long drag. Frank blew a cloud of smoke out of his mouth before driving off to his destination.

~

"Hey! Frank! How's it goin' man?" Bob yelled over at me from across the bar as soon as Frank walked in. He was behind the counter bar-tending. He must working nightshift now Frank thought. He grinned while making his way over to the bearded blonde, trying to be extra careful with his guitar. Frank wondered if he should really give this one a name too.

He walked up to the counter to find Bob stirring up a martini for one of the many people that were sitting at the counter. Bob looked up, smiling wide. "I can pour you one if you want?" He offered. Frank just grimaced and shook his head. "Not now. Maybe after I preform." Bob nodded before sliding the Cocktail Martini to a young man who was all dressed up and slouching in his seat a little. Frank was a little surprised to see that he was not the only one dressed up tonight.

He wore a white long sleeved button up dress shirt underneath a black tuxedo vest and a red tie. His hair was charcoal black but also greasy looking. Frank couldn't see the rest of his attire but He was guessing that he was wearing black dress pants and dress shoes. In the midst of looking him up and down, Franks dull hazel eyes met his stunning hazel ones. Frank suddenly felt awkward, quickly looking down at the floor and clearing his throat. "I'm going to go set up before I start playing" He informed Bob. "Alright, can't wait!"

Frank set the guitar case down on a chair off stage and pulled out the guitar. He then put the guitar strap on after plugging in the cord to his Marshall amp. His fingers began to strum the strings of the guitar he held.

His eyes wandered around the not-so-small and classy bar. There were over a handful of young adults in here and maybe four older scruffy looking men.
Frank cleared my throat, making sure he was loud enough to catch Bob's attention and looked over at Bob, signaling him to come over. He nodded and made his way around the counter, quickly hopping up on stage. He took the microphone off of its stand and held it in his hands.