Our Foundations from Decay

Gerards POV

Me and Frank stood once again outside the studio door, where we somehow always end up and something crazy always happens; am I living in some tv show or what?! I wondered to myself.

Frank nudged the door, the hinges creaking as he did so.

"Well, I know we left the door unlocked because we were in a hurry to escape my mom, but at least it doesn't look like it's been broken into. Thank God," said Frank as he sighed and walked into the apartment, me following him in suite.

if I'm being honest, I was almost shitting my pants in excitement, completely forgetting that I needed to sing and that would be a problem since I don't have my voice.

I watched as Frank immediately picked up his guitar like he couldn't bear spending another second away from it. I swear he was hugging the thing, cradling it in his arms.

"oh- uh, let's get started." Frank abruptly said, feeling the embarrassment overtake him as he realised I witnessed his whole 'rendezvous' with the guitar.

frank placed the music sheet in one of those music sheet holder things and skimmed over it, getting the gist of what it was meant to sound like.

it was just as I envisioned, it was coming along and this made me hopeful.

"yeah this sounds sick, and thanks for writing the lyrics at the parts where my music notes are, it'll help me get the rhythm and keep in time with you." he smiled graciously and I felt proud, like I had finally been doing something right in my life for once.

"Are you ready for 'take one'?" Frank asked.

'wait, how am I supposed to sing? I had almost forgotten that I don't have my voice.'

I wrote down worriedly and then showed Frank as if he'd somehow have the answer to all life's problems.

"Oh damn, I forgot too." he looked down, a stern appearance on his face showing that he was deep in thought.

he had a realisation, because he looked back up at me smiling, placed a hand on my shoulder, and said: "Listen, just feel the music, get lost in it. let the musical notes consume you and then your voice will come to you naturally. Just,,, don't think about it, okay?"

as much as he made sense, I still had no faith in myself that this would actually work.

I looked away, nodding reluctantly, but Frank wasn't satisfied with that.

"Listen, Gerard. don't stress. if you can't do it the first time, it's no big deal. we can practice as many times as it takes for your voice to come back. I'll wait for you." he reassured me, catching my eyes with his sincere glare.

alright, I can do this. For Frank.

I held the cheap, wired, microphone up to my lips and Frank started on his guitar.

since we didn't have drummers or bass yet, I filled the gaps in by using GarageBand, connecting the soundtrack to a speaker and pressing play.

it was all coming together like a puzzle, the sounds of the instruments collaborating and beginning to make sense. Was I the missing piece of the puzzle? I had to be, there was no one left but me; it all came down to me.

the instruments were slightly muddled at the beginning, but then strung together in harmony— it was beautiful.

and suddenly, the sounds I had orchestrated whilst thinking of 9/11, instantly reminded me of the event. But not in a 'getting sucked back' way. This time, I was feeling all the emotions; the fear and anger and trauma all brewing deep in my stomach making a strange concoction that fuelled me with drive.