“Why the hell did I even go along with this?” Gerard asked of himself in an agitated and belittling tone, his usual pale face holding a hint of red to it out of anger at his less-than-sympathetic band mates. “Stop laughing already and get this thing unlocked!” he wailed, raising his right arm up and in turn harshly lifting Frank’s left one up as well displaying their linked problem. Even Gerard had to relent that maybe, just maybe he was being slightly over hysterical at the situation. But goddammit, he was stuck being handcuffed to Frank for fuck sakes. And all because the pint-sized guitarist just had that random Frankie urge to play pint-sized magician that night. Gerard sent a glare to the magic kit box on the bus floor and was snapped back to reality around him with Frank’s little yell.
“Ow!” Frank protested. “Don’t do that.” He pulled his cuffed arm back down and rubbed at his wrist where Gerard had caused the metal of the handcuff to dig into his skin.
“You of all people don’t have any right to complain,” Gerard glared down at the shorter man and crossed his arms over his chest, bringing Frank’s hand to dangle beside it in the process.
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Frank yanked his hand back down and let an angry glare of his own come to his face.
“Yeah, but you were the idiot with the bright idea of a fucking magic show!” Gerard shot, whipping his arm back to jerk Frank forward.
“I didn’t make you be my volunteer!” Frank pulled his arm back, wrenching Gerard forward in retaliation. “It’s not my fault the magic kit gave me fucking defective trick handcuffs!”
“But you did make me!” Gerard argued with a yank of his own. “You used the sad puppy eyes face and that is in fact coercion!”
They’d had the same argument really just merely seconds ago, complete with the tug-o-war match between them. And just like before they had sent their three spectators into another shared laughing fit over their frustrating dilemma. Gerard at last just groaned out of that frustration and walked over to the free space of the bus’s back lounge couch, taking a seat; Frank really having no choice but to follow and sit down as well.
“Maybe we could grease your guys’ hands up with something and slip them out,” Mikey suggested with a laugh. Ray and Bob chuckled as well.
“And what do you want us to use? Fucking peanut butter? There’s nothing on the bus, and we’re driving through the middling of fucking nowhere!” Gerard practically growled and let the back of his head bash against the soft back cushion of the sofa. Just a way to try to calm himself from getting up and shutting the faces of the laughing offenders by any violent means necessary.
This situation was not funny. Well, okay, Gerard had to concede to it being funny if he were in their shoes. But not when he was the one stuck in the handcuffs. And especially not when it was in the middle of a tour, and especially not when it was being handcuffed to the spazzoid known as Frank Iero. Frank may be in his mid twenties, but with his overwhelming tendency to act childish and annoying, Gerard wasn’t sure how long he could survive being stuck with Frank with no escape. Either Gerard was going to end up going out of his mind, or he was going to end up being handcuffed to a freshly murdered corpse. But of course Frank wasn’t all bad. His childishness was endearing, and his penchant at being a clever little asshole at times was oddly an attractive trait. Well, Gerard thought so at least. Honestly he loved being around Frank, and honestly as well, Gerard probably wouldn’t mind this situation so much if it weren’t for the fact that he loved being around Frank a little too much.
“Well,” Ray spoke up through the chuckles and a yawn. “As much as I’d love to see you continue to attempt to free yourselves from each other, it’s really late and I’m beat.”
