In the summer of 2003, the band, My Chemical Romance, started to gain a following and fans. North Jersey had a lot of punk bands starting there, the music was lively and heavy. You were apart of the sound crew for My Chemical Romance, having known the guitarist, Frank, since high school.

As you worked with the band more, Frank couldn’t help but sit back and watch as you became closer and closer with the Lead Singer, Gerard. Eventually you and Gerard got together, and Frank didn’t like it at all. But he held his tongue. Concerts he would put his all into as a way to get his anger out, he always played better when he was in a sour mood.

One day in July, you came to his apartment and asked him about it. Sitting on the balcony, smoking cigarettes, you asked why you and him weren’t as good of friends as you two had been in high school.

He sucked the smoke through his teeth and exhaled it with a frustrated chuckle. “If we’ve grown apart you did all the work. I’ve always been here for you, whenever you needed. I’ve always been there for you since you entered that fucking school. I’ve held your hand when you were scared, I fought idiots who pissed you off, I lent you my shoulder to cry and lean one when you were weak. So if we grew apart it’s because you pulled away without turning back. I know it, fucking Gerard knows it. Everyone knows it, except you.”