Frank rolled out of bed before the sun was high in the sky, which was new for him. He couldn't have possibly slept longer, though. He was too excited, too anxious for the day he was about to have. The entire demo Gerard had given him, not just the two tracks he needed to know, was ingrained in his mind. It was good music, and today he would be recording some of it.
Gerard and Frank had been in touch over the phone through somewhat awkward conversations that nonetheless left both of them grinning, and everything was settled. Frank would be serving as the rhythm guitarist for them today. He grabbed his guitar and a handful of money and started walking. He knew he'd have to catch a cab or something soon because he was going all the way to New Windsor which was over an hour north, but he didn't think he could sit still just yet. In his mind he reviewed the music for the thousandth time; it occurred to him that he still hadn't met the rest of the band. Great, that was one more thing to make him worry.
After a while, Frank realized he'd have to catch a cab soon or else he'd walk out of the city past most of his chances for a ride. He listened to his gut, and his gut had ridiculously expensive ideas because the cab fare skyrocketed. As soon as he was in New Windsor, he got out of the cab to walk the rest of the way. At least he could save money while calming his nerves; God, he was nervous. Besides, New Windsor was nice. You could actually see a decent amount of green.
Trees turned into houses which turned into businesses. Then, almost too soon, there it was - Nada Recording Studio. Frank double-checked the address even though this was clearly the right place. When Frank knocked on the door, he heard muffled shouting. He waited for a minute before the door was opened by a bony man wearing glasses. Gerard came up behind the man, bearing a welcoming smile.
"Frank, great!" he greeted. "Come in."
"Hey," said the man who opened the door. Seeing Frank's lack of recognition, he kindly offered his name. "I'm Mikey."
Frank felt instantly stupid for not realizing that. Gerard had told him that Mikey was their bassist, and the younger Way brother didn't look so terribly different from the scrawny, fourteen-year-old boy he had been the last time Frank had seen him.
"Shit – Hi," Frank managed, realizing his blunder, "Mikey, of course."
Another, larger man emerged from farther into the building. The new face introduced himself briefly with the word, "Matt."
"He plays the drums," Gerard explained. "I sing, but I've never been able to do that while playing an instrument. That's why Ray is our lead guitarist, but he's not here yet." He stepped back and gestured with open arms. "With that exception, we are My Chemical Romance. Welcome to the recording of our first album. Feel free to set up."
Frank took in the room. It took his breath away to see that he was in a proper studio. It felt dizzying, surreal.
After the brief introductions, Gerard had begun running around manically to put everything in its place. What that 'everything' was, Frank wasn't certain, but he couldn't help but smile at Gerard's perfectionist behavior. Shaking the grin off his face was the fact the he had essentially been left alone in a room full of strangers. Matt made him somewhat uncomfortable, so he was relieved when Mikey came over to work with his bass.
"How've you been, Frank?" Mikey posed the casual courtesy while tuning his instrument.
Frank reciprocated with, "Not bad. How about you?"
"I've been doing alright."
"When did you learn to play bass?"
"Uh, I picked up the bass a little over a year ago, actually. I learned it to be in a totally different band, but Gerard comes first. When he started going for this idea, I sort of threw myself into making this band happen. I helped come up with the name, actually."
"Really? It's pretty unusual."
"It's an Irvine Welsh novel," he explained with a shy smile. "I was working at Barnes and Noble for a while. Then I was interning with a record label, and, well…" Mikey shrugged rather than finish the sentence.
"Cool."
Frank liked Mikey. He was sort of quiet, but that just made him less threatening. He was a benevolent presence in the room, so Frank decided he would try to make a friend out of him.
Frank asked the ordinary yet valuable question, "What kinds of music are you into?"
"Hm… Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Misfits…" Mikey's voice trailed off as he moved in closer to hear his D string.
"Misfits? Nice."
The two boys maintained the casual conversation, and Frank felt pretty confident that they could be good friends. Neither were social butterflies, but together conversation was easy. They found they had a lot of shared interests to discuss, and neither put pressure on the other when they did reach a pause in conversation. The only interruption came when a head of wild, curly hair towering about six feet in the air burst into the room.
"Ray!" Gerard exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Am I the last one here?" the new man, apparently Ray, wondered aloud.
"Yep, and this," Gerard said, gesturing grandly toward Frank and startling him slightly, "is Frank. Exchange guitar wisdom."
Ray turned out to be a really relaxed guy and a brilliant guitarist. He possessed a huge influence on writing the music for the album, and he helped Frank put together rhythm guitar parts. Everyone in the band was pretty fantastic, and throughout the following days that they were together, Frank began to feel as accepted around them as he had ever felt with anyone else. In that first week Frank knew them, they spent time together working in the studio on and off; going out to eat; and even helping Frank job hunt, a grueling endeavor that led them from café to café. By the last day they spent recording the album, they were all talking like old friends.
Gerard, though, still held most of Frank's interest, the way he had seven years ago. Well, not exactly the same way. Frank no longer had a teenage crush on the older boy, now a man; however, Gerard sometimes caught Frank letting his eyes linger a little too long when the smaller boy thought Gerard was looking the other way.
Gerard himself was experiencing a similar problem. He had known since they met that Frank possessed handsome features, but it was different now that they had matured. The boy grown was a sight to see. Still petite, he had a slim frame and well-defined face upon which there could sometimes be seen a coy smirk. On several occasions when that particular expression danced across Frank's face, Gerard caught himself not breathing. He dismissed those feelings, though. He had established in the past that he dated girls, so why would he take a chance on something like this that would probably lead to rejection anyway? The last thing he wanted was to scare Frank away because even as the band finished laying the last track he was working to keep him in his life.
"Frank," Mikey called from the corner where he was packing up his bass on the last day, "where are you going after this?"
"Back my parents' friend's apartment, I guess, but I'll put that one off for a while," Frank explained.
"You never seem to want to go back there."
"I feel like I'm an imposition. It's just me and some adult I hardly know who's doing me a favor."
"Have you considered moving out? You're going to have a job soon, so you'd be able to afford someplace cheap."
"I guess. I'd have to start looking for a place, though."
"You could move in with Mikey," Gerard shouted across the room, interjecting himself into the conversation without physically moving himself toward the people having it. Frank froze for a moment, considering the offer, and then he looked to Mikey.
"I was just thinking," Mikey spilled out, jostled by his brother's interruption, "that I'm looking for a roommate, and you don't like your place. And I'd rather live with you than some stranger. My apartment has pretty reasonable rent. Once you start working, we could split it."
Frank mulled the idea over for a moment before saying, "Yeah, that would be great."
"You'll talk about it then!" Gerard announced on their behalves. "But for now, we should go out and celebrate the completion of our first album."
The gang gave some disjointed shouts of victory and headed out the door, with the exception of Frank. He stayed behind, sorted his few belongings, and let the band go off to their celebration. Gerard, though, leaned against the doorway, maintaining a posture as if he were waiting for something. After a moment of stalling there, Gerard realized he needed to explain himself.
"You too, Frank," he said. "You, poor bastard, are one of us now."