Frank's POV
Another show, another place. Something about being on tour makes ever city blur together. Same stupid bars, same shitty free beer, same bleached blonde girls. The only constant is us. Me. Gerard. Mikey. Ray. Bob. We stick together, through the random shit, the good shit, and the bad shit, and the weird shit. Sometimes I feel like this band holds me together. Maybe that's how the fans feel, too.
Yesterday's show was pretty shitty. Nobody knew who we were, and nobody seemed to care. To add to the dull, people were calling us fags. The entire fucking show, a group of drunk rednecks yelled slurs at us. Of course, Gerard was bothered. Obviously. But he's Gerard, so he's going to do something about it. And when he came in my room to ask me about something, I should have known it was about this. I should have. But I didn't.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Acting (and pretending to be)
FanfictionIn which I am an unoriginal prick. Based off of my headcanon that Gerard was stage-gay-ing but Frank was not.
