The bus was unusually quiet except for the random snores coming from Bob and Ray’s bunks. Normally, there was swearing from all five members, but not tonight as the bus chugged down the freeway under a bright, full moon.

The near silence was punctured deeply by a loud, guttural growl and the slamming of a fist against a paper-thin wall. Mikey looked up from where insomnia had taken him (reading a comic book at the table) and watched as Frank emerged from the back room, Gerard at his heels.

“What’s going on?” Mikey stood up just as Gerard lowered Frank into a seat with a firm hand.

“Go to bed, Mikey,” Gerard ordered, giving his younger brother a knowing look, complete with eyebrow raise. “I’ll take care of this.”

Mikey gathered up his comic and phone, and shuffled to his bunk sensing that he didn’t want to be around for the following scene. It was a far too often occurrence for Frank and Gerard to be up in the middle of the night, yelling at each other. Or for Frank to be playing emo boy on the phone with his girlfriend while Gerard looked on.

The scene always ended the same. Someone usually had a black eye, or a swollen lip, or maybe just a sullen expression the following day during interview sessions. It often took three or four days for Gerard and Frank to actually talk to one another again, and even then it was with tight lips and even tighter words.

The others took these fights at face value. They didn’t read too much into any of it, but they all had an idea about what was going on. No one wanted to delve deeper, because they were afraid of what they might find. Gerard didn’t approve of Frank’s girlfriend; he didn’t like the way she acted, the way she dressed or how she treated Frank.

Frank, however, didn’t feel it was any of Gerard’s business and he would always tell him so. Then the phone calls became shorter, and the yelling became less enthused, and every other week Gerard found Frank pulling his hair out in his bunk because she’d just broken up with him (again).

That evening, Frank had had a particularly bad conversation with her and he was fed up; he had broken up with her, and Gerard had been there the entire time, holding his hand. Just being there for him, like he always had been.

“She’s not fucking worth it, Frank,” Gerard said sternly as he sat down beside his friend.

Frank heaved a half-hearted shrug. “I guess not.”

“You can do better.”

“How?” Frank asked, lifting his head up and fixing Gerard with an icy glare. “I’m a fucking asshole. Who’s gonna want me?”

“Someone,” Gerard answered quietly, looking at his fingernails, which were painted black, like Frank’s. “Maybe someone already does and you’re just too blind to notice.”

Frank scoffed. “No offense, Gee, but you need sleep immediately. You’re delusional.”

Gerard forced a laugh, and Frank looked closely at him, noticing the rigid smile and the bags under his eyes. He wanted to say something positive, so he blurted out, “You were a better kisser than her anyway.”

Gerard turned his head slowly, and as gently and quickly as possible, pressed his lips to Frank’s.

“Did you ever think that the only reason I hated your girlfriend was because I was jealous as hell and wanted you for myself?”

Frank shook his head, his eyes glazed over; he seemed to be in a bit of a daze. “I thought about it, but didn’t think it could be true.”

“I fucking love you, you ass,” Gerard said as clearly and strongly as he could, given the fact that his heart was beating painfully against his chest.

“That explains why you pick fights with me every other day,” Frank stated, a smile quirking his lips.

“No, I pick fights with you because you’re always wrong.”

“Shut up,” Frank murmured against Gerard’s lips, “and kiss me.”

Gerard happily obliged.