Our Foundations from Decay

Frank POV 40

We were sounding good. Like, exceptionally good. The guitar in my hands had begun feeling right again, and I knew the rest of the members could feel it too.

"Our competitors ain't got NOTHING on us!" I shouted into the studio between huffs of air, invigorating call casting jittery echoes around us. The sky was blue, the breeze was warm, the birds were chirping and the grass was gre--

"I noticed about 13 mistakes in total. Frank, you were responsible for 9 of them." Mikey's deadpan voice shattered my illusions with the force of a semi truck, the echo of my voice becoming a mocking taunt.

"Mikey," Gerard tutted with a shake of his head, hair shining with beads of sweat. "why on earth were you counting?"

The boy shrugged innocently, distractedly drumming at the strings of his bass. "Someones gotta. We can't mess this up if we wanna win."

I rolled my eyes and fell backwards, collapsing onto the beaten and bruised couch- its torn seams and exploded stuffing reminding me of myself. I stuck my hand out in front of me, gorily scratched-up fingernails glaring back with equal malice.

It certainly wasn't easy, spending every waking moment (other than making out with Gerard, which was admittedly a nice distraction) practicing with the band. Every second was important under our time constraints, the daunting countdown in the sky ticking down like a bomb.

Friday. Two days.

The undeniable sensation of pressure began hatching in my gut. If I left myself unchecked, it would easily grow and evolve into an uncontrollable beast; one even I wouldn't be capable of reining in.

Fake it till you make it, right?

"We'll win." I sat up straight, steely eying up my bandmates. "Don't even think about losing. We have spunk. And skill. We've got good songs and strong lyrics. Plus, we've got the sexiest lead singer in the whole of America." I took a moment to wink at my boyfriend. "Uh, so, yeah. We'll win."

There was momentary silence before a hearty chuckle from Ray, stationed over by the drums. "You're right, bro. Eyes on the prize." He tapped his pair of ancient drumsticks on the floor, grimacing as wooden flakes shook off them like fleas from a dog. "It'll be even better since we'll get to use the venues equipment."

As if it heard us, the plastic-cased speaker let out a grated squeak, violently digging into out ears. God, we really are cheapskates. With the way we lived, it would be incredibly easy to just get up and leave; escape into the country with $20 to our ragtag band's name. I grunted at the thought, imagining the fuss Gerard would make in the merciless wilderness-- not that I'd fare any better.

"Do you really think we've got a chance? I mean, we'll be up against some pretty tough people." Mikey sounded unbothered, yet even I could sense the lingering anxiety in his tone. It was times like these that I had to remind myself of the boy's age; 15 was incredibly young to be bearing the weight of... well, everything.

"We've got that meeting tomorrow. Once we see how harmless our competitors are, it'll all work out." Ray's voice of reason sounded like symphonies to my ears, his inherent calmness bringing peace to the room. Wow, I can't believe that I thought this guy was annoying.

"I'm not looking forward to versing that Bart guy though." I grimaced, staring outside the window at the golden lights of the evening skyline. They glittered off the glass like a mirror-- reflecting my own scrunched eyebrows back at me.

"Who?" Mikey tilted his head. "Like, the Simpsons guy?"

Gerard's mouth pulled into an awkward smile, feet shuffling as he spoke. "He's talking about Bert. Bert McCracken." Ah right, that's the one. "They've met briefly."

"Woah dude!" Ray gaped, looking me in the eyes. "You met Bert? I haven't seen that guy in years."

"Yeah, and I hope he disappears again." I grumbled under my breath, earning a sharp look from Gerard.

Ray chuckled, sheepish grin etched across his face. "I get you, dude. That guy has some serious wacko vibes, makes me think he'll end up in prison one day."

My boyfriend moved his frown to the curly-haired boy, sighing as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Ray, don't humour him! Bert's a good guy, he's just got a few... Issues."

"A few?" Mikey snorted, "He's a ticking time bomb. I'm surprised he was allowed back in school at all."

Woah, no one trusts him, huh. I bit back an abrasive smirk. Good. With an invigorated jump I bounced off the sofa, taking my place next to Gerard on our makeshift stage-setup.

"I'll count us in, you guys ready for round two?" I called out, watching as fire lit behind my bandmates eyes.

"Yep!"

"Yeah."

"For sure, dude."

"Great, then let's get this show on the road."

As Gerard's voice and my guitar harmonised in otherworldly matrimony, I only had one thought on my mind.

Let's win this.