Rae left before Gerard and Matt even had a chance to, barricading herself in her room and working on the song until she fell asleep at her desk.
Frank woke her up too early the next morning, yanking the blinds up. "Wake up, Rae."
She squinted in the sudden light. "What?"
"Why the hell did you leave Mikey yesterday?"
Rae blinked. "Why'd I – what?"
"Mikey. You knew, you fucking knew, you were the only person who'd talked to him so far. You were the only person who knew what was going on in his head and you left."
"But he had you." She stared; she'd never seen Frank like this, pissed for reasons she knew he wasn't completely saying. "I didn't even think, there was the song and Gerard was going out. He had you."
Frank shook his head. "Fine," he said. "We need to get a fucking move on as soon as Gerard wakes up."
"We'll be okay." It felt stupid to say, but everything felt stupid to say; she wasn't at all good at dealing with this kind of fragile. "Even if it's not for awhile, we will be."
He still looked pissed, and when he opened his mouth she half expecting him to rip her a new one for being Pollyanna, but instead he just sighed. "We just need to get in the studio," he said. "It'll be better then."
She nodded. "We'll make a good record, and...it'll be better."
||
Of course, the ways it got better didn't have much to do with being in the studio.
Brian pressed more now, stayed closer. When Howard Benson showed up, Brian was the reason he remembered everyone's names for two consecutive days. But Rae knew better than to argue with the important producer, and every time Gerard opened his mouth to say something stupid, Mikey would touch his arm. Don't fuck this up, they muttered to each other. Even Matt toed the line.
She didn't think the way Howard treated her could really be called sexist. He wasn't polite, of course, but he was a big-time producer: he didn't have to be. And she didn't think the reason he steamrolled over a lot of her suggestions had much to do with her gender, since he did the same thing with the others.
"You need a chorus," he said calmly.
"Fuck that, we need another verse. Gerard!" Frank threw a pencil at him. "Write something."
"Only if what he's writing is the chorus."
"We're not trying to sound like a pop act," Mikey said, sounding mildly injured.
Rae shook her head. "I don't think that's what he means, though."
Howard looked approving now, which was good except that she wasn't really on his side. "I know we need more structure," she told him, "but you're streamlining us too much. We should compromise."
"Compromise?"
She knew what they looked like to him. Hell, they looked a little like that to her – another band a big label had signed that would put out a few CDs and then fade away to obscurity. But even if they were that band right now, they'd all done too much for this to stay that kind of band.
"We learn the art of the chorus, you leave our love for horror movie subject material alone."
It was maybe too strongly worded; she was surprised when he nodded.
"You're sure you shouldn't be the ambassador to, like. Belgium?" Mikey said.
"Waffles." Gerard flopped over onto Mikey's lap. "We can't stop now, come on."
So they didn't.
||
In the end, it still wasn't what Rae really wanted. Of course, she didn't think any of them were capable of what she or Gerard or anyone really wanted; that was the point of putting out more than one CD, she figured. Either way, the record was solid and the label thought it would sell okay, and right now those were the most important things.
Then, suddenly, they turned into a hit in the making.
"Over eleven thousand in the first week," Gerard said. His shoulders were hunched and he looked tired – they were all exhausted, really – but the shock coursed through her all the same. Eleven thousand.
"Holy shit," Mikey said. It wasn't a group hug, exactly, more just individual bumps and hugs along with shared disbelief; Frank was all but vibrating, awe written all over his face.
"We fucking...we..." Rae shook her head.
Mikey touched her arm. "Eleven thousand," he said.
Matt and Gerard were toasting each other with beers, and Frank had graduated to jumping on the couch. Jesus. "It's happening," she said.
Success wasn't something they'd ever really talked about, because it wouldn't – couldn't – happen. Except...week one.
Eleven thousand.
Mikey nodded. "It is," he said, and moved a little closer, leaning into her side. She let herself lean back.
||
They weren't exactly famous. The band was, with some people, but they themselves weren't. They were still filthy and generally underfed, they still got on each other's nerves a lot, Gerard was still drunk a bunch and Rae still spent too much time avoiding other people.
It was something she thought about a little too much. It wasn't like the band needed her to be spokesperson, or something; that was the point of having a frontman. But reading the blurbs and articles and getting actual fan mail telling her how great it was that she, a girl, was doing this, made her think more about the hours she spent living in the back of the bus than she really wanted to.
Eventually, though, their quasi-fame got to the point where even she wasn't surprised when the requests for interviews started coming in almost unmanageable numbers. They were the cool new Thing now – their song was a hit and people wanted to get a bit of however much success they'd end up having.
The interviews before that had mostly been handled by Gerard and Frank, who was surprisingly good at babbling at interviewers until they had enough for a soundbyte or magazine quote. They'd done a few photoshoots, too, but nothing major.
"So how does it feel to be the only girl in a band best known for its participation in a female-hostile scene?" the interviewer asked, smiling.
It was the second time in a week she'd been asked. She tugged the bottom of her shirt a little. "Kind of like being a guy, I guess," she said. "It's not...I mean, I can't pee when I stand up. But that's about it."
"You never feel pressure from the outside?" The interviewer leaned forward. "What about playing shows? The one I attended had a pretty high proportion of catcalls and lewd slurs, does that ever make you nervous?"
"I don't notice them much anymore," Rae said. It was true; 'Show us your tits!' had been worn out by the second show, and she stuck close enough to the guys post-show that harassment had never been an issue.
"But -"
"Frank likes to put her bras on his head and pretend he's a superhero," Mikey said. "You know Gerard did our album art, right?"
It was the clumsiest, most obvious subject change Rae had ever seen, but somehow it worked. Mikey sat back, looking satisfied.
"You're going to have to teach me how to do that," Rae said after the interviewer had left.
Mikey pulled his headphones down. "Do what?"
"The deflection thing." Rae rubbed her shoulder, feeling almost as off-kilter as she had at the interview. "I hate that question. It's so stupid, out of all the things they could ask..."
"Well, it is kind of obvious, you know?" Mikey pushed his glasses up. "Not like that's an excuse, but..."
"It's not obvious." Rae gestured at herself. "Look at me, seriously, the only person less feminine is Matt."
"You have boobs, though."
"Not obvious ones." She never wore v-necks or even close-fitting regular t-shirts.
But the look Mikey gave her suggested she was missing something. "No, they're kind of obvious. They're boobs. "
"They should be smaller, then, if it's my tits that's making people ask such stupid questions." Rae picked at a stray thread on her jeans. "It's just going to get worse, isn't it? They'll try to make me into some kind of poster girl."
"Probably," Mikey said in that funny not-cheerful Mikey voice of his.
Rae put her head in her hands.
||
Weirdly, it wasn't that bad. The question got easier and easier to deal with over time; the rest of the band also got used to telling when it was coming and avoiding it.
When it got bad enough, she just shrugged and got drunk with the guys. No harm, no foul, she told herself. Rock stars by definition couldn't be sensitive enough to let every catcall get on their nerves.
Maybe it was the selective ignorance that helped it happen; but then, maybe not. No matter how fast-paced everything had suddenly become, she should have noticed things were getting worse. Gerard fell asleep slumped on top of her more, he downed three beers before even a small interview, he stumbled and fell and sang about Elena with his head on the mic stand. But she didn't notice, didn't see, until Warped.
Warped was rough, because Frank and Jepha were friends and Gerard and Bert were...whatever their weird flirtation could be called. Everyone was drunk, because it was Warped, but there was too much tension now.
"I'm so fuckin' stoned," Gerard slurred, staring at the bus (bus, they had a bus, it still hadn't gotten less bizarre) ceiling. "So – hey, Rae, you ever think about what'll happen when the first one of us dies?"
She ignored his giggle. "Sure. Who doesn't?"
Tinny music made her turn her head. Mikey stopped cranking up the volume on his headphones and turned away from them.
"I think it'll be in the paper. Hey, Bryar."
Bob froze. Since the start of the tour, he'd been more and more careful around them. Rae was trying not to think about what it might mean. "Yeah?"
"Tell Bert I loved him." Gerard took another gulp of beer and fell off the couch laughing.
"Fucking moron," Frank said, but he sounded more tired than anything else.
When someone yelled bullshit at her that day, she kicked a crumpled can off the stage in their direction. It wasn't much, but it had Frank running over to her, playing furiously and yelling, "You okay?"
Gerard screamed off-key and fell over. He was more drunk than stoned today. "Fucking fine," Rae said, and tore into her solo.
||
There had to be a breaking point. Rae kept telling herself that, because either Gerard would break or the rest of them would, and at this point the end of the band was an idea haunting all of them.
They got into a screaming fight with Brian right before Japan. Or rather, Brian screamed and Gerard squirted him with his own bottle of Febreeze, grabbing his crotch and laughing like it was the funniest thing ever.
"Put it away, Gerard," Frank said. He threw a magazine at Gerard, not even a little gently.
"Any regrets, Schechter?" Gerard grinned, patting Brian's head. "Santa doesn't exist."
"You're being a dick," Matt said suddenly.
"You are a dick." Gerard's voice was too loud. "Man, fuck this, fuck this. You're all fucking – what the fuck is this, fucking Japan, fucking shitty-ass band." He stumbled out the door, slamming it behind him.
"He's probably puking." Frank stood up. "Jesus, Brian, he - "
"Just go get him. I know, Frank, okay? I know." Brian sat down, swallowing hard.
Mikey was blaring his music again. Rae went over to him without thinking.
"Hey," she said. It was too quiet for him to hear, so she touched his shoulder.
His face when he looked up almost killed her. She'd never seen his eyes that sunken, or his expression that completely empty. "Why are we doing this?"
Rae didn't have a good answer. "It'll get better," she said. The words felt old, overused. "Just wait. It will, it has to."
She sat with him until he got up and went back to his bunk. She let herself go outside then, leaning against the bus next to Matt.
"Look at him," Matt said. Gerard was lying belly-down on the cement, with Frank kneeling over him. "He's a fucking mess."
It sounded more cruel coming from him than it should have. "He's always had problems. He's going through a rough spot."
Matt snorted. "He's a fucking pussy, is what he is. I don't care who sucks his dick, but when he starts acting like a fucking girl about everything -"
"Hey," Rae said. She could feel herself blushing; she wished to God she could do comebacks like Mikey or even Frank could.
"Fuck off, you know what I meant," Matt said. "You're pretty good and all, but still, acting like a girl is acting like a girl."
"Says the guy who can't keep time live."
It was a mistake, a sore spot, and she knew it. "Fuck off," Matt said again, but this time he was all but snarling. "What the fuck do you fucking know about drumming, Rae?"
Enough to know you're shit, she thought, but she held up her hands. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing, Jesus. I'm sorry."
They flew out the next day. None of them talked, and the second they got off the plane, Frank started texting frantically. She didn't even have to see the screen to know he was talking to Jamia.
"Let's do this," he said grimly.
"It'll get better," she said automatically.
"You said that before." Frank shrugged. "And sure it will. It just has to happen soon, or..."
It felt like swallowing an entire bag of ice cubes. "Or?"
"I'm getting tired, Rae." Frank turned away. "Come on, let's find the fucking hotel."
||
The hotel wasn't better, and neither were the shows. Gerard was a complete mess. Rae could feel herself pulling away; she barely remembered the shows themselves, much less what happened before and after.
She'd beat herself up later for not realizing, not knowing, until the third night when Jerry helped him into his bunk.
"What the fuck?" Frank said. "It's too fucking early."
"Let him sleep."
" Jerry?"
Rae pulled her curtain aside in time to see Frank hop down. "What –"
"Seriously." Jerry crossed his arms. "Brian knows. Let him sleep."
It felt almost redundant to watch Gerard curl up under his covers. She wanted to do anything but leave him alone, but Jerry had the look on his face that meant he'd happily take all four of them on.
The call from Brian came on Rae's cell halfway to the airport. "He's going to get better now," Brian said without preamble. "I'm looking for a program he can do."
She took a careful breath. "He's said he'll quit before."
"He means it this time." She heard Brian breathing shakily, wondered just how much Gerard had told him.
"There's another problem. Matt."
"Still not cooperating?"
"He's being a dick," she said. "I mean, really, who's surprised? But he's hurting Gerard, and he fucks up as often as not, now. More often."
"We'll talk about it when you guys get back. Just keep him alive for the plane ride, okay?"
Fuck. She clenched a hand in a fist, realizing for the first time exactly how close they'd come. "Okay."
"Bullshit," Mikey muttered from his seat.
She shut the phone. "No," she said.
Mikey shook his head and slumped down further.
They didn't talk to each other on the plane. Rae was next to Gerard, who half-slept, half-cried for almost the entire trip. He was shivering as he did, too quietly to make a scene but noticeably enough for Mikey to throw his blanket over Gerard's.
Mikey's blanket was the one Gerard chose to bury his face in. Rae waited until he was sleeping fitfully to tuck the covers around him, moving the pillow a little so it supported his neck better.
She looked up and saw Mikey staring at her. It was ridiculous to feel caught, since she knew she hadn't been doing anything wrong. She snatched her hands away regardless, grabbing the in-flight shopping magazine and holding it in front of her face.
Gerard slept a little better after that, and when the plane touched down, he woke up without crying out. Small victories, she told herself, taking his hand and pulling him up gently.
"Fucking walk, Way," Matt said. He shoved Mikey into the seats, not at all lightly.
Frank stopped dead. "Get away from us," he said coldly. "Right fucking now."
It was a stupid, stupid line in the sand to draw, but at least Rae knew what she was going to tell Brian. "Come on, you guys, just walk." She dropped her shoulder a little, letting Gerard lean more.
They got off the plane without killing each other, and Matt left without even bothering to look for Brian. "Good fucking riddance," Frank said.
"Yeah, we're going to have to talk about that."
They turned like it was a movie. Brian looked as tired as Rae had ever seen him, pale and weirdly small for a guy she knew could kick all their asses.
"Brian."
She hadn't realized Gerard was lucid enough to talk, much less launch himself at Brian so hard Brian stumbled backwards. "Jesus," Mikey said quietly, jealousy all over his face. Frank bumped into him a little, holding onto his elbow with a hand. Rae dug her hands into her pockets, watching Gerard cling.
Gerard didn't let go until getting into the taxi necessitated it. He stayed pressed against the window, even when Brian twisted around in the passenger's seat to look at them.
"You have to keep going," Brian said. "I called the label, so you've got a few days, but that's it."
"What are we supposed to do?" Frank was still hugging Mikey, expression fixed in a glare. "What the hell is going on, Brian?"
Brian winced and opened his mouth.
"I'm an addict," Gerard said.
She'd known, expected it, but hearing it still floored her. "Gerard?"
"I'm a fucking alcoholic and just...Jesus. I'm a fucking addict." Gerard's head hit the window with a dull clunk. "And it's going to stop."
Frank indiscreetly clapped a hand over Mikey's mouth. Gerard winced. "It's okay."
"No one's going to say anything stupid," Frank said flatly. "We're fucking staying together and I'll kick Matt out myself if I have to."
Gerard twitched. "Matt?"
"Doesn't fit," Rae said. She felt like the worst kind of bitch, but he didn't and he hadn't for a long time. The way Gerard nodded a little, like he'd been expecting it, confirmed that.
"That can be dealt with tomorrow," Brian said. "I'd say I can tell him, but one of you should be there."
"Me," Rae said immediately.
"It doesn't have to be," Mikey said. "We could...all of us, maybe."
"I was the one bitching at him. No, seriously." She glared at Frank until he shut his mouth. "I'll go."
"You sure?" Brian was doing that thing with his face, the expression that made him look like a parent. But coupled with the bags under his eyes, it didn't wash even a little.
"I'm positive."
She sat back, sandwiched between Frank and Gerard, and waited for the ride to be over.
||
"No."
Rae fought the urge to fist her hands. She didn't think Matt would go crazy and kick their asses, but it would probably pay not to be too aggressive, anyway. "It's a difficult time for the band," she said, "and you're just not..."
"Not what, Rae Not fucking good enough? I'm sorry all of us can't be fucking obsessed, some of us prefer getting laid to fucking around with our fucking instruments, you prissy fucking -"
"That's enough," Brian said.
Matt rounded on him. "You've got your head so far up your ass you can't see sunlight, Schechter. Do you seriously think that fucking band's going to make it without a drummer? If you'd stop licking Gerard's dick long enough to think you'd know the answer."
"We'll make it just fine." Rae was bad at any kind of fighting, but the look on Brian's face was more than enough to make her confrontational. "With a drummer who isn't you. A good drummer."
Matt recoiled. "Fuck you."
She shook her head. "It's done, Matt. You're out."
It felt better than it should have to leave him gaping, walking out of the house with Brian right behind her.
||
They'd mentioned it a few times after hearing yet another story about how amazing Bob was on the drums. He'd been with them long enough that him smacking one of them for being an idiot was as integral a part of their lives as Brian calling to yell at them or Adam telling insane rumors about them. The few times Rae had asked him about drumming, though, he'd just shrugged and said "Yeah, I like it."
"Bob?" Gerard was clutching a bottle of water, wrapped in three blankets and as much of Mikey's limbs as would fit around him.
She nodded. "Everyone says he can play."
"We've never heard him," Frank said.
"We film in a few days. It doesn't matter, we need someone." Her lip curled. "He'll be better than Matt."
"I like Bob," Mikey offered. He was smiling a little.
She wasn't sure why that was the deciding factor for her."We'll ask him, then."
||
"This isn't actually a question." Bob looked at each of them, voice higher than usual, hands twitching. "You're not seriously asking."
"We kind of are, actually. You can say no. We won't kick your ass." Frank tilted his head. "We won't kick your ass much. "
"I can't say no." Bob shook his head hard. "You're...you want me to...seriously? I'm not getting punked or whatever?"
"It's a trial. A lot of things are right now. But yeah, we voted, and if you wanna be in such a sorry fucking band, then sign the dotted line."
It was the most Rae had heard out of Gerard's mouth in awhile. He was looking at Bob with that weird intent look on his face, the same he'd had right before barreling out on the stage to sing Skylines the first night – except clearer, she realized. Lucid, yeah, but also just more focused.
She wasn't at all surprised when Bob nodded; the difference would be obvious to him, too. "Yeah, okay. Duh."
Frank tackled him down, arms around his neck. It was one of Frank's quieter tackles, but what he lacked in noise he made up for in sheer force.
"Don't break him yet," she said when Frank kept holding on.
Frank shook his head; Bob patted his back. "You're weird, Iero."
"We're all weird." Gerard took a drink of water. "So, want to shoot a video with us tomorrow?"
"In front of the camera?"
"Yeah. You'll, um. You'll be there a lot," Mikey said. He sounded so hopeful Rae almost winced.
Bob shrugged. "Sure."
Gerard leaned back, breathing carefully. Frank started babbling at Bob – like he hadn't been with them on half their tours, Rae thought – but she and Mikey both watched Gerard.
One day at a time, Brian had told them over and over. At this point it was a not-quite-meaningless mantra: one more day, one more day.
||
"Fuck off," she said. "Seriously."
Mikey's face looked close to splitting, he was grinning so wide. "I can't believe they talked you into that."
"I have to sit on a porch and lick a crayon." She tugged the bottom of the skirt. "And they didn't have any pants that fit me right, so really, Mikey, fuck off."
"Hey." Mikey thumped his croquet mallet. "You don't look bad, you know."
Rae rolled her eyes. "Yeah, of course not. Is today over yet?"
"Gee looks bad." Mikey had the same look on his face he'd gotten the night they had to tell Gerard he was a bad Dungeon Master. "He's like, chalky. And he shakes all the time. You don't look bad."
"I'm not a recovering addict, either." It felt good to say, recovering. "I know I'm not the Loch Ness Monster, okay? It's just weird."
Mikey nodded. "I get it. They should have just tailored you some pants or something."
"No kidding." She sighed when she heard Marc yelling. "Come on."
Mikey followed her closely. She didn't think anything of it until he kept following her, leaving only when someone yelled at him specifically. By the second day, it had crossed the line from weird into creepy.
"Seriously," she said as they were walking back to the bus, "Are you..."
"Huh?" Mikey blinked at her. He had bags under his eyes that she was pretty sure rivaled her own.
"You're. Fuck, I can't think. You're being weird."
Mikey stared at the pavement. "I'm not."
"You are." She tripped going up the stairs, grabbing the handrail just in time. "Whatever. We all need sleep."
She didn't get nearly enough; none of them did. It was probably for the best that she forgot about it until halfway through the next day, since by that time she couldn't think of anything to say anyway.
||
The video got big; at that point, none of them were surprised, though Rae was more than a little embarrassed that it was that song in particular that turned into a hit. It didn't stop being incredible, though, even all the interviews where people asked her what it was like to be a girl in the spotlight. "I'm not in the spotlight," she got used to saying. "I just play."
It was true. The crowds were getting bigger – and younger – and Gerard had gotten even more flamboyant since getting sober, but Rae just planted her legs and played, more or less the same as she'd mimed when she was five and watching all her brother's bootlegged concert videos.
They'd been expecting 'Helena' to be upsetting for long enough that the filming itself felt a little anticlimactic. Bob followed Gerard around, which made sense because Bob acted like they all emitted distress beacons whenever anything was wrong, and Gerard was definitely the most upset. Mikey was a close second, though, and Frank stuck just as close to him as Bob did to Gerard. Rae tried to divide her time between them, though somehow, she ended up dogging Mikey's steps almost as much as he had dogged hers during 'I'm Not Okay'.
Through it all, of course, they smiled for the cameras (there were a lot of them, strangely many; Rae wasn't used to the idea that there were people more interested in them than they were) and said as many meaningful things as they could come up with. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but they got through the filming.
Gerard left Bob's side to put an arm around Rae's waist, leaning on her. "I'm proud of you," he said. His voice was rough, both from exhaustion and crying. "You know?"
She blinked. "Um. Thanks? I'm proud of you, too?"
"No, I mean." Gerard stopped them. "Like. I drew you without boobs, you know? I drew you like a fucking dude. But you're not, you're a girl and you're rocking out like it doesn't even matter. You're a role model. It's awesome."
She blinked at him. He yawned. "Come on, I'm wiped."
"...Thanks," she said again, and followed him onto the bus.
They had a routine, now; it was as close to tucking Gerard in as Rae thought Gerard's dignity would allow. At least one of them always followed him back and went to bed at the same time he did.
Tonight, it was Frank. Bob followed, and Rae got busy with the PS2. She was about to ask Mikey to join in when he stood and left the bus.
Playing alone was never as much fun, but she didn't feel like sleeping yet. Of course, it turned out that she was more tired than she realized; one second she was facing off against a Boss, and the next she was waking up and her watch said four AM.
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