TONIGHT WE'RE GOLD

SEVENTEEN

Frank isn't sure he took the right decision.

He's now the lead singer of Death Spells.

He's in a band again, and he's singing again.

It's been about four years since his last band broke up. It seems like a whole eternity, though. His life changed drastically, and he almost forgot what it felt how good it feels to sing his heart out.

He forgot how music was a big part of his life, of himself. He doesn't know how he survived without it, without writing lyrics and thinking about chord progressions. He knows this is James' project, but he's too invested by now.

'Did you even sleep?' James asks him when he sees him coming in the room, noticing his friend's half opened eyes, and how he didn't even shave.

'Not really. I was writing.'

'He's back!'

Frank tries to hide his grin, walking in the studio and setting up the equipment. 'Should we start?'

They haven't recorded any instruments yet, just James backing tracks and whatever effects he added. So Frank grabs a guitar and plays the progression he wrote the night before over it.

It feels so natural, like the guitar is a part of him. His fingers move by themselves by now, and he hates himself for not doing it all this time. For giving up his dreams for his stupid addiction. He was so happy.

They try to finish one song on guitar and drums, but something just doesn't work, and Frank goes straight to do vocals over the track. For some reason, he likes it that way and they work on it for the rest of the day, adding more effects on post-production, until it sounds exactly how they like it.

'Let's continue tomorrow,' Frank announces in an excited voice. 'I need to go write.'

'You stayed up for just one song?'

'No, I have a couple more, but with new development, I need to change some things.'

***

Back at home, he spends the rest of the afternoon writing songs, changing up the lyrics of the ones he wrote last night, and even works on a new one.

When Gerard calls him later, he's almost jumping in excitement. 'I love seeing this version of you,' Gerard tells him. 'You needed this.'

'I did.'  Frank can't stop smiling. 'I wish you were here,' he says. 'We could be celebrating.'

'I wish I was there with you.'

They have dinner together while Frank shows him the new songs he wrote.

Paranoid, so paranoid, shut it out, I'm on self-destruct
I can't deal with the pains in my head
Medicate the suffocation with bullshit arrogance
I'm in love with a suicide
In too deep is just a state of mind
Self-sedation is my fucking 9 to 5
With a death obsession working overtime
I can't get clean, some scars won't leave, I won't come clean

'Frank!' Gerard says when he finishes reading the email he sent. 'Who hurt you?!'

'You don't wanna know,' he says, laughing.

'I thought you were happy!'

'I am! I am happier than ever!'

'Then why don't you write about that?'

'You just want me to write you a song.'

'I kinda do.'

'I am working on something, but I can't show you yet.'

To end on a good note, Gerard tells him to get his toy, and they had Skype sex like any normal couple in a long distance relationship.

***

'And – we're done!' Frank says when they last vocal track is done, only a week after they started. 'I mean, we still have to work on the tracks and all, but at least we're done recording.'

'Well, then my work here is done,' James tells him. 'This is your job, buddy.'

'Hell, no. You're helping me.'

Frank is too excited to go home, so he wants to end as fast as possible, and go home to his man. But James reminds him that now that he's practically in the band, he has to start thinking about an upcoming tour, which the label is already organizing, plus promotion, filming videos and all that fun stuff.

'Don't make me regret it,' Frank warns him.

'Just saying. You're going to have to get used to it again. I know you miss Gerard, but you knew it was going to be like that when you accepted to be in the band.'

'I know.'

Two days later, they're halfway through with the pre-production, but Frank is starting to get anxious. Between the talk he had with James about touring and everything that this new adventure meant for him, and the meeting that was coming on Monday, about the plans for the band, his head is about to explode. He talked to Gerard early in the morning to help him, but a couple hours later, he's having another anxiety attack.

'C'mon, Frankie,' James tells him. 'It's the weekend, and you need to relax.'

Frank knows what relax means for James, and he does not need that. 'I'm fine, I just need a break.'

'That's what I'm talking about. Let's just go chill at my place. I have some medicinal marihuana, you still do that, right?' Frank nodded. 'Great. You need it.'

He still lived in the same apartment they lived together back then, and it hadn't changed much. He has a new roommate, an Australian guy who wanted to be an actor, and he was rarely home because he had three jobs. But there are other people there. Whether they're James' friends or his roommate's, he doesn't know, but they're clearly on something, and Frank is starting to get nervous.

James rolls a joint for him, and he feels better almost immediately.

'Better, huh?' Frank nods.

James tells him more of his crazy ideas, which sound funny now, but at least he's not scared of what's coming.

At some point, one of the girls flirts with him and he quickly tells her he's engaged.

Then another guy offers him a beer, and before James stops him, Frank takes it, without even thinking about it. 'Frank –'

But he's doing great, he's stronger now, he has Gerard. It won't happen again. So he cracks it open, and chugs the whole thing.

It won't happen again, he tells himself.

He can stop himself before it gets bad.