band one-shots

a drink for the horror that i'm in || frerard

owo hi i'm back

ship: frank iero x gerard way

~

Alcohol is going to be the fucking death of Gerard Way.

He doesn't mind though.

See, there's a certain solace that can only be found at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol, and it's a really nice kind of solace, much better than any other brand society can try to sell him. It's his go-to.

It's not exactly the most healthy coping mechanism, but hey, this shit is legal. People drink all the time, and they're perfectly okay. There's really nothing wrong with him, so if he wants to down this shit like it's ice water and he's stranded in the desert, people should fuck off and leave him be.

But Frank's never been very good at fucking off.

"You're drinking another beer?"

"Don't you think you should lay off a little?"

"Dude, we're going onstage in twenty minutes. Put it down."

Maybe Frank should learn to mind his own fucking business, and focus on playing guitar. Last he checked, the motherfucker was having a little difficulty with the I'm Not Okay riff. And Gerard really would not be pleased if the band ended up making an ass out of itself because Frank didn't practice enough.

So even though Frank was right, they are going onstage in twenty minutes (well, now nineteen), Gerard is not going to put his liquor down.

Because fuck that.

He leans against a wall backstage, gulping down the cold liquid. It's still not enough. He closes his eyes, because the world isn't as sharp as it normally is, and maybe that's a result of the alcoholic beverages he's been consuming all day. It's blurry and smudged, and his head is pounding.

There's really nothing he can do about it though, short of collapsing on the floor and missing the show. That would probably piss Frank off more than he already is, and Gerard really isn't about to go playing with fire right now.

After all, alcohol is flammable, right?

~

Once the show is over, Gerard stumbles off the stage. His vision still consists of blurred edges and everything hurts.

Someone, maybe Mikey or Ray, touches his arm and he flinches, standing rigidly. "Yeah?" He spits, turning around to face Frank. Oh.

"Dude." Frank's fingers close around his forearm. "You need to stop this shit."

"Fuck off," He pulls his arm back, but Frank's grip is pretty tight for his smaller than average stature. "Let me go."

"No. Stop drinking."

"Fucking make me." He groans and shakes Frank off. "I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Being tired doesn't cause you to nearly pass out in the middle of a lyric."

Yeah, okay, Gerard kind of tripped when he was singing "Thank You For The Venom", and he'd been a fraction of a second away from tipping off into the crowd and collapsing. But he was just being clumsy. Alcohol had absolutely nothing to do with it, if anything the stage was just a little slippery.

Gerard doesn't respond and turns to leave. They need to catch up with the rest of the band, they don't have time to argue over this shit. Especially when Frank's clearly in the wrong.

Frank allows him to walk away this time, his eyes watching Gerard's hollow frame.

~

The following morning, Gerard cannot find his liquor.

He could've sworn that he had a bottle beside his bed, but it's gone. Or at the very least, invisible.

He rolls over in the covers to see Frank's head poking into the doorway. His hair is greasy and mussed against his scalp.

"Looking for something?"

"Where's my fucking drink?" Gerard sits up in bed, pissed off and alert. "What did you fucking do?"

"Threw it out." Frank shifts his weight against the doorframe, leaning into the white wall. "You don't need it."

"Yes, I do." There's a tense undertone between them, enough to intimidate anyone that should have the misfortune to pass by. "Give it back."

"No."

According to the clock hanging on the wall it is approximately 8:23 a.m, which in Gerard's opinion is way too early to be dealing with this. He crosses the room to Frank, whose eyes remain steadily on his own.

"Dude, I need it." It's close to begging, but fuck dignity, what other options does he have?

Frank reaches up and sets a hand on Gerard's shoulder. "No, you don't." Before the taller boy can object, he continues. "Dude, I'm like really concerned for you, you shouldn't be drinking that shit. Please, like, try to stop."

"I-" Gerard stops himself, noticing the serious flicker in Frank's eyes. "Fine. Whatever. I'll try."

~

gerard in red eyeshadow makes my heart go uwu