Our Foundations from Decay

Gerards POV

I awaited at the end of the street for my mysterious guitarist. the bright, burning sun gleamed across my bare eyes, blocking any vision of what was in front of me.

my phone buzzed in my pocket, causing me to jolt as it always does. I lift my screen, which I'm barely able to see because of the suns intense glare, but it was a message from the guitarist.

"I think I see you"             

                                                                                                             "Really? cool! come to me!"

"Ok."

I put my phone down at cringe at my response to the person. Who says 'come to me'. I'm such a dork. I thought and mentally face palmed.

I suddenly acknowledged the looming silhouette that was approaching me, not seeing their face due to the wretched sun compromising my vision.

then I heard an all-too familiar voice...

"hey, Gerard. I guess we can't escape each other, huh."

my vision became clear and I was face-to-face with my new guitarist.

my eyes widened( bad idea with the bright sun out in the sky) and I turned an embarrassed shade of red, standing there awkwardly as I scratched my head.

"so.." Frank said, breaking the awkward silence, "where are we headed?"

I decided to talk to him through messages since I couldn't talk.

I heard his phone ding and he checked the notification screen, then smiled.

"I was gonna take you to the apartment to hear you play guitar. remember how I said id be taking someone over on Saturday?"

said my message.

"ohhh, right. oh well, I left my guitar in the apartment anyway so it's for the best I guess."

he nervously chuckled and I chuckled along with him, letting him lead the way to the apartment.

wow, so he was the one who auditioned for the band? I wonder why it appealed to him, is he not happy with his life? it makes sense I guess. we have something in common, that's cool. I like people who are like me.

I stared at the boy who was now walking next to me, he seemed tense. hopefully playing guitar will ease him. his gaze was fixated on what was in front of him, like he was a man on a mission. but really, I think he was just trying to avoid looking at me.

we arrived at the apartment, I had noticed that the place was neatened up.

the room was hot to the point of feeling stuffy. almost like how it was on the day of 9/11. I felt my throat closing up with the dry humidity and heavy air that didn't flow easily through my lungs.

the obnoxiously bright glare of the sun, heating up my skin and making me break out in a sweat.

oh no, I was thinking about it.

no, no, no, not now.

I was shaking. hard. I look over to the boy who's sitting on the couch, messing around with the tuning on his guitar.

c'mon, focus Gerard. get out of your head! Distract yourself!

when I couldn't distract myself in time, my 'episodes' got really really bad. And I was struggling to hide it.

I try observing my surroundings to distract myself, but it only made me more freaked out. I felt delirious, the room was warped and overwhelming in my vision. the sun poked and jabbed at me through the half-closed blinds.  the sounds of twanging guitar strings, slightly off-tune. I look down at my shaky hands which had suddenly become blurry and then wet.