Fro Guy gasps, and Frank's getting really tired of these "oh god you're getting it wrong" reactions already.
"What?" he asks, when they all just stare at him like he's an alien. "This is really fucking creepy, you guys," he points out.
"So, you grew up in Belleville, but you went to Pencey Prep? And you were raised by your dad, whose name is-" Black-haired Guy lists off the facts like they're questions and fuck, Frank is over this already.
"Henry, yes, I told you all that stuff already." Frank grumbles, rubbing his hands together, "God, do you want to see my fucking driver's license?"
"Yes. Please?" Black Hair answers, and he looks at Frank all hopeful and earnest. Frank knows he shouldn't give out his real name, but this is a weird circumstance and he can't explain the pictures of the lookalike anymore than these guys can. He bends down and slides his license from the inside compartment in his boot where he keeps his emergency money and hands it over.
Black Hair looks at it a moment and gasps, "You weren't born on halloween!" at the exact same time Skinny Blond leans in over and says, "Your name is Frank Lero?"
*
Ray, Gerard, Mikey, Bob, Brian. Frank wonders if he could ask them to wear name tags. They're in a band called My Chemical Romance and Frank knows a few of their songs from hearing them on the radio. They're touring their second album to some pretty major venues. It's a life Frank dreamed of once, years ago, before reality became a place where dreams didn't fit anymore.
This other Frank, this lookalike who knows these guys - who belongs to these guys - has been with them for years. All of them love the shit out of him. Their concern for him is blatant and they don't even bother to try and hide it. Frank can't help but wonder himself where the fuck the other Frank is. This doesn't seem like a life anyone would walk away from.
Brian's pacing, on the phone to the police, giving details even though it hasn't been 24 hours yet so they won't let him put in a missing persons. Gerard's gnawing on his nails with singleminded fixation. Ray looks up every time he hears a car slowing down nearby. They're acting like someone cut off one of their arms and every breath is a ghost pain.
Brian hangs up the phone. "So the fucking police won't start looking for another five hours, so we should start ourselves. Bob, you take the rental with me. Mikey, Ray you take the van. Gerard-"
"I'll stay here with Frank." Gerard says quickly, with a nod. He meets Brian's eyes and he nods back.
Frank hops up abruptly, "'M going for a smoke," he says, heading outside. Anything to get away from their suffocating concern for this guy who isn't Frank.
He ignores the flurry of activity as they divide into cars, staring into the flame of his lighter as he lights his cigarette, sucking down nicotine that does nothing to calm him.
This Frank guy hasn't even been gone a day and they're going out of their heads. Who would worry about Frank if he suddenly disappeared? Would anyone even notice if he didn't make it back from a trick? His landlord maybe, when he didn't make rent. Possibly his neighbour would notice eventually. It would take months before Henry figured it out.
Frank sucks on smoke and tells himself he doesn't need that kind of concern. Doesn't want it. What the fuck would he want with a bunch of fussing weirdos who freak out if you're gone awhile? Crazies, he tells himself, but he doesn't manage to make it very convincing.
no subject
"What?" he asks, when they all just stare at him like he's an alien. "This is really fucking creepy, you guys," he points out.
"So, you grew up in Belleville, but you went to Pencey Prep? And you were raised by your dad, whose name is-" Black-haired Guy lists off the facts like they're questions and fuck, Frank is over this already.
"Henry, yes, I told you all that stuff already." Frank grumbles, rubbing his hands together, "God, do you want to see my fucking driver's license?"
"Yes. Please?" Black Hair answers, and he looks at Frank all hopeful and earnest. Frank knows he shouldn't give out his real name, but this is a weird circumstance and he can't explain the pictures of the lookalike anymore than these guys can. He bends down and slides his license from the inside compartment in his boot where he keeps his emergency money and hands it over.
Black Hair looks at it a moment and gasps, "You weren't born on halloween!" at the exact same time Skinny Blond leans in over and says, "Your name is Frank Lero?"
*
Ray, Gerard, Mikey, Bob, Brian. Frank wonders if he could ask them to wear name tags. They're in a band called My Chemical Romance and Frank knows a few of their songs from hearing them on the radio. They're touring their second album to some pretty major venues. It's a life Frank dreamed of once, years ago, before reality became a place where dreams didn't fit anymore.
This other Frank, this lookalike who knows these guys - who belongs to these guys - has been with them for years. All of them love the shit out of him. Their concern for him is blatant and they don't even bother to try and hide it. Frank can't help but wonder himself where the fuck the other Frank is. This doesn't seem like a life anyone would walk away from.
Brian's pacing, on the phone to the police, giving details even though it hasn't been 24 hours yet so they won't let him put in a missing persons. Gerard's gnawing on his nails with singleminded fixation. Ray looks up every time he hears a car slowing down nearby. They're acting like someone cut off one of their arms and every breath is a ghost pain.
Brian hangs up the phone. "So the fucking police won't start looking for another five hours, so we should start ourselves. Bob, you take the rental with me. Mikey, Ray you take the van. Gerard-"
"I'll stay here with Frank." Gerard says quickly, with a nod. He meets Brian's eyes and he nods back.
Frank hops up abruptly, "'M going for a smoke," he says, heading outside. Anything to get away from their suffocating concern for this guy who isn't Frank.
He ignores the flurry of activity as they divide into cars, staring into the flame of his lighter as he lights his cigarette, sucking down nicotine that does nothing to calm him.
This Frank guy hasn't even been gone a day and they're going out of their heads. Who would worry about Frank if he suddenly disappeared? Would anyone even notice if he didn't make it back from a trick? His landlord maybe, when he didn't make rent. Possibly his neighbour would notice eventually. It would take months before Henry figured it out.
Frank sucks on smoke and tells himself he doesn't need that kind of concern. Doesn't want it. What the fuck would he want with a bunch of fussing weirdos who freak out if you're gone awhile? Crazies, he tells himself, but he doesn't manage to make it very convincing.
(CONT)