MarshmallowPancake

Frank fidgeted anxiously next to Gerard on the dirty brown couch. They were in a sort-of hallway with ugly grey-brown carpeting and the couch they sat on was facing a blank, off-white wall, save a boring black door and a couple wrinkled and torn posters. Behind the door was some guy's "recording studio" where Ray, Mikey and Otter were recording. After the show, Frank and My Chem had traded numbers, and the next day Gerard had called him up asking if he wanted to hang out and watch while they recorded. Frank had immediately said yes (forgetting to check if he had any plans. Thankfully, though, he didn't) and met up with Gerard on the corner of

"You're…leaving?" even coming from his own mouth, Brendon still couldn't believe what Ryan's rambling, weaseling-around-the-point-ing had told him. Ryan was standing in front of Brendon, wringing his hands and shifting from foot to foot. He refused to make eye-contact, just flitting his eyes from Brendon's shoes to a spot on the rug, and just anything other than Brendon himself. Brendon sat with his mouth hanging open, his signature pouty lips forming a confused and dumbfounded "o". He raised a hand and ran it through his hair as he watched Ryan looking extremely embarrassed and unsure of what to say or do, like he was standing in the mi

In the dim lighting of the basement of some bar, Frank peeked over the head of all the other smelly people in the crowd towards the stage. Soon he'd be up there himself, all those bloodshot, makeup-darkened eyes looking at him. Whether in awe, or envy, or disgust, he didn't give a fuck. All he cared about was being the center of attention. But right now, Frank shifted on his feet as he watched the opening band clumsily set up their gear. They were all clearly older than him (which wasn't hard to be, as Frank was only 18), but, in comparison with the skill and experience of the bands who would be playing later, they were just babies. The blon

The tour bus door squeaked open and Pete poked his head in, with wide eyes and a big grin. It seemed deserted enough, so he tip-toed up the steps and carefully pulled the door closed again. He straightened himself and walked normally now, looking around. He called out in a whisper, "Mikey..? Yoo-hoo?" "Your boyfriend's out right now." Pete jumped and looked in the direction of the voice. On the tiny bus-couch, there was a just-as-tiny man sprawled across it, covered in tattoos, his black hair mussed up and all over his face. His eyes were closed, but he smirked to himself after, evidently, hearing Pete jump. Pete relaxed his tensed muscles

Big Kid I wake up and feel big. Horizontal on the couch, I watch the floor zoom out And think about life Until I'm not so big. The living room swells back and I find my mom To tell her how big I was But she just doesn't get it. -- "Wander (v): to go aimlessly, indirectly, or casually; meander" Dragging your feet along, you think Second-hand smoke never smelled to great Mingled with people and the sounds they make Harmonize oddly with the radio's droning. Nobody seeming to notice but you You alone who Smiles as you hear a joke not intended for you And you whisper responses you'd say if they knew Yet are completely content wi