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April 21st, 2025
Buffalo, New York
Anthony was fed up. Between the lack of energy from the crowd and straight-up rude behavior he'd observed from the venue staff, he was over it. He wanted to lay down in his bunk and go the fuck to sleep.
But that required going down two flights of stairs and walking through the parking lot past a bunch of adoring fans who were only there for Frank.
So instead, Anthony sat at the window, staring down the courtyard where about half the crowd had gathered to wait for them to emerge.
“Ant, come get your sandwich!” Tucker beckoned from the couch.
“Not hungry.” Anthony continued to pout while he watched out the window.
The staff had insisted that the fans clear out of the venue, barely ten minutes after their set had ended. Some people were still standing in line to buy things, and security was telling the merch people they needed to start packing up.
He noticed one guy who he thought might have been the production manager or something approaching the crowd outside. That guy had been particularly off-putting when they had arrived that afternoon and he had really gotten under Anthony’s skin.
Production Fuhrer said something, and then the crowd started to scatter. He watched for another few minutes as most of them got in their cars and left.
“What the fuck,” Anthony muttered under his breath.
They had already been kicked out of the venue, and it seemed like they were now being told they couldn’t even hang out by the bus. That really pissed Anthony off, even though he knew most of the fans only wanted to talk to Frank, because those were fans of his band and he would talk to them if he damn well pleased.
Anthony was about to say something when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Frank in his post-show oversized black hoodie, giving him a puzzled look.
“Are you gonna eat?” He asked, holding out a bag of Doritos.
Anthony swallowed, feeling hunger in the pit of his stomach, but the frustration bubbling up was taking over. He needed to calm down. He knew what he needed to calm down. But he hated asking for it.
Frank continued to give him a concerned look.
“Will you go to the bus with me for a minute?” Anthony felt his palms start to sweat, and he rubbed them on his jeans.
He knew a panic attack was coming on, and he knew what would stop it, but he just had to get to the bus first. The rest of the crew was still sitting around finishing their post-show meal so they would have the place to themselves.
Frank’s look grew even more concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I will be just— can we go somewhere more private?” Anthony asked, hoping his voice wasn’t too pleading.
Frank nodded, turning back to the table to set his drink and bag of chips down.
”Why don’t we go to the bathroom or something?” Frank suggested, ushering Anthony out of the green room and into the hallway beyond. “There’s still gonna be a ton of people outside— that’s not gonna be good for you right now.”
Anthony scoffed. “They’re gone.”
Frank closed the door behind them, and Anthony leaned back against it.
“Already? I mean, I knew the energy was low tonight, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” Frank tried to laugh, but immediately saw the hurt expression on Anthony’s face. “Hey, I didn’t mean that.”
Anthony sighed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes now that they were alone. Even though the energy had been low, he was still feeling the adrenaline come down from the show.
Frank responded with a hand on his shoulder.
Anthony looked up to meet his eyes. He could tell the guitarist felt it too, even though it wasn't as intense. It was the first show of the tour without Travis, and although Frank was used to playing with his brother-in-law, it was still an adjustment when part of the lineup changed.
“Why do I even do this?” Anthony sniffled, pulling Frank into a hug.
Frank wrapped his arms around the taller man, guiding his head onto his good shoulder. “You do it for the good nights. And there are so many good nights.”
Anthony sniffled against Frank’s hoodie. “Is it worth it?”
Frank pulled away from Anthony and looked him in the eyes. “Of course it’s worth it. You were saying just the other day that these last few years have been the best you’ve ever felt.”
Anthony shrugged. He remembered saying that, but he had a habit of falling into black and white thinking. He’d had a bad day yesterday, spent it alone because everyone else had been at home with their families. Easter wasn’t one of the holidays he and Meredith had agreed on, and although Frank had invited Anthony over, he didn’t feel right showing up to a gathering with a bunch of Frank’s extended family who just thought Anthony was a coworker.
“What’s really bothering you, Anthony?” Frank asked, his eyes narrowing. He knew it wasn’t just the low-energy show. There had been some loyal barricade riders giving Anthony plenty of attention, and he had given it right back, focusing on them instead of the many who were just standing there with their phones out.
Anthony didn’t want to tell him the truth. Partly because he knew it would piss Frank off that he even thought that, but also because Anthony knew he was being ridiculous. People didn’t come to a show just to stare at Frank. He knew this. They obviously enjoyed the band, even if they had gotten into it for Frank. But it was hard to think anything else when Frank’s side of the stage filled up so much faster and 90% of the fans brought MCR merch for him to sign.
“It’s stupid.” Anthony shook his head.
“Hey,” Frank said, lifting Anthony’s chin with his forefinger. “I don’t like you using that word, okay?”
“Sometimes I feel—“ Anthony averted his eyes. “I just feel like sometimes I’m just a stand-in for Gerard.”
Frank’s eyes flashed momentarily with anger, but he quickly regained his composure. “Anthony.”
“I know you say it’s not true. But would we even be doing this if My Chem were still active?”
Frank’s face fell because he knew the answer. If Gerard still gave a shit about making music, Frank may have never been motivated to start a new band. But now Frank couldn’t imagine his life without this project, without Anthony. And Tucker and Tim and Travis, of course, but especially Anthony. They had been friends long before, but had only gotten close when Tucker roped him into the band.
Anthony was a piece of Frank, just like Gerard had been. Just like Jamia was.
“Come on.” Frank motioned for Anthony to follow him down the hall, down the stairs of the strange venue.
At the entrance, Frank poked his head out the door to ensure the crowd hadn’t reformed. He was surprised to see absolutely no one in the courtyard between the entrance and the road where the bus was parked.
Anthony didn’t respond, feeling like he was on the edge of going nonverbal, and gripped Frank’s fingers tightly.
“I got you,” Frank assured him and pulled him toward the bus.
Once they were on the bus and ensured no one else was there, Frank led Anthony to the back lounge that thankfully had a sliding door. Everyone on the bus respected the door, and Frank knew they would have their privacy for as long as Anthony needed.
But they hadn’t gotten there in time. The floodgates opened, and Anthony collapsed against Frank’s chest and started sobbing.
“Hey,” Frank said reassuringly, rubbing Anthony’s back. “I've got you.”
Anthony clung to the shorter man as he let the sobs course through his body. He went to wipe his eyes on his sleeve, and Frank stopped him.
“Take your contacts out first,” Frank reminded him.
Anthony was thankful to have Frank there to remind him of basic needs. He often left his stuff sitting out, and Frank would organize it, putting caps on bottles and zipping up bags.
Anthony did what he was told and went to the small bus bathroom with his toiletry bag. He took his contacts out, rinsed his face with cool water, and put his glasses on. He stared at his puffy eyes in the dimly lit mirror, noting how swollen his whole face looked. He looked old and tired. Another wave of emotions came over him. He didn’t understand why Frank loved him, why they asked him to be in the band, if anyone really gave a shit at all.
He was spiraling again, and he recognized that. He needed Frank to bring him back down. He quickly stripped off his shirt and pants, leaving his shoes and socks in the hallway, and returned to the back lounge. He found Frank sitting on the bench in a relaxed sprawl, legs spread while he scrolled on his phone.
“You already know what you want, huh?” Frank raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his phone.
Anthony nodded, kneeling in front of Frank. Anthony’s oral fixation was quite obvious to everyone around him. Having something in his mouth, whether it be a shirt, a microphone cord or his own fingers , was calming and grounding. He also happened to like having cock in his mouth. Especially Frank’s cock.
“Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you gonna make me guess?”
“Want to do whatever you want me to, sir.” Anthony nestled in between Frank’s legs.
“Hands behind your back, no touching.” Frank demanded. “I’ve got some work to do, so you’re gonna kneel there with my cock in your mouth while I do that.”
Anthony flushed, but did what Frank told him to. He placed both hands behind his back and held them there like he was cuffed. He waited patiently for Frank to unbutton his jeans and pull his soft cock out of his pants.
Anthony tried to be as still as possible as Frank guided his cock to the singer's lips. He opened his mouth obediently, looking up at Frank through his lashes.
“No moving. If I get hard, you’re getting punished.”
They both knew that no matter what Anthony did, Frank was gonna get hard. But Anthony wanted to be punished tonight— he needed it, really. Being degraded made him feel like he mattered, like he served a purpose, even if that purpose was just to get Frank off. It was still something.
Anthony closed his eyes and let the warmth of Frank’s cock in his mouth relax him. It shocked him how quickly he found himself feeling more centered. Between the weight of Frank’s cock on his tongue and the quiet tapping of Frank’s fingers on his phone, Anthony felt himself breathing easier, in and out through his nostrils.
He wanted so badly to nudge his nose under Frank’s hoodie, bite at his belly, thumb bruises into the plush skin of his hips, but he resisted. The concentration helped calm him further. Besides, Anthony really wasn’t even getting hard from it.
Frank however, was.
Anthony started to notice the skin of Frank’s cock tightening in his mouth and he looked up to see his boyfriend still intently typing out emails on his phone, seemingly unbothered.
Anthony mewled, the sound muffled by his full mouth. Frank’s eyes flicked up over the top of his phone, and he shot Anthony a warning look.
“Be careful,” Frank cautioned.
Fuck it, he felt like being bad.
Anthony responded by pulling off of Frank’s cock a bit so he could run his tongue down the underside of it. He felt a twitch and knew he was going to get in trouble, but he couldn't help it. He closed his eyes and moaned softly, the salty taste of precum filling his mouth.
Frank didn’t react at first. He simply sighed, set his phone to the side on the couch, and stroked the singer’s face.
Then a sharp sting bloomed across Anthony’s cheek. He didn’t even realize his mouth was empty before it happened. His eyes flew open, and he felt tears form in the corners of his eyes. His hands twitched, and he had to fight the urge to bring a palm to his own face to check if that had actually happened.
“I told you not to let me get hard,” Frank chided, rubbing at Anthony’s stinging cheek.
Anthony tried to resist nuzzling against Frank’s calloused fingertips. He wanted to be good for Frank, but he knew he was bad to his core, so what was the point?
Frank ran a finger down Anthony’s cheek. “How should I punish you?”
“I don’t think you should punish me,” Anthony said. “I think you should let me suck you off.”
“No, I don’t think you deserve that.”
Anthony’s heart sank, but he knew it was true. He thought about the crowd that night, their lack of enthusiasm, their eyes turned only toward Frank. He felt bad for Evan whose first show it was. He felt bad for Tucker, who thrived off the energy of the crowd. He felt bad for Tim, who had just started coming out of his shell on stage. He even felt bad for Frank, though most of the attention was turned to him. He knew the older man hated it when his own fame distracted from the work of the entire band.
Anthony didn’t feel bad for himself, though, because he deserved it. He was inherently bad. He had been bad his whole life. He thought he had probably been born bad, and that’s why all the bad things had happened to him. That’s why he didn’t get along with his brothers, why his marriage had failed, why the drugs still called to him even three years sober.
Frank could practically read the thoughts spinning around in Anthony’s head. “Stop it,” he demanded.
Another slap connected with Anthony’s skin, this time on the other cheek. It wasn’t as hard, just a reminder of who was in charge.
Anthony forced the thoughts out of his head and looked up at Frank with that puppy dog pout he knew he exhibited when he was in that position.
“Color?” Frank asked.
“Green,” Anthony answered without hesitation. “Thank you, sir.”
“How could you think you’re a bad boy? All you do is beg for my cock and then thank me for it.” Frank patted Anthony’s head, running his hands through his hair. “I’m so lucky to have such a good boy.”
Anthony mewled at the praise even though he didn’t think he deserved it.
“Now what am I gonna do with this hard cock?” Frank asked, thumbing the slit of his own erection, teasing Anthony by spreading the precum all over his shaft.
“Whatever you want, sir.”
Frank contemplated for a second, lazily running his fingers up and down his shaft. “I think I’ll just come on your face. Get those glasses all messy.”
Anthony whined and licked his lips.
Frank stood so he had a better angle on Anthony’s face. He fisted his cock a few times, milking it of precum to allow a dribble to fall onto Anthony’s cheek.
Anthony squirmed, making good on his promise to keep his hands behind his back. He wanted so badly to taste Frank’s cock, to lick him until he was coming down his throat. Anthony wasn’t even hard— couldn’t get there thinking about how the night had gone. He just wanted Frank to get off. It was the one thing that he could do to salvage the night. He was good for that, at least.
Frank sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, working the skin of his cock with his fist. He didn't feel like dragging this out, knowing Anthony needed to get to sleep. He had kept the younger man up the whole night after Jersey, and he knew Anthony had yet to recover from it. But it had been worth it to fuck him slowly in the hot tub while Jamia jerked him off, both of them pressing soft kisses all up and down his body.
Frank suddenly had an idea and grabbed around on the couch for his phone, not breaking eye contact with Anthony.
“Is this ok?” Frank asked, flipping open the camera app. “Just wanna send it to J.”
Anthony nodded, the look in his eyes becoming more desperate, his million fucking eyelashes fluttering as he blinked.
“How are you so fucking pretty?” Frank whined, pressing record on the video.
Anthony’s eyes looked ten times bigger and bluer when he wore his glasses and he practically looked like that fucking Puss in Boots gif from Shrek and fuck,– Frank was coming all over Anthony’s plush lips and glasses and reddened cheeks.
Frank stroked himself to the point of oversensitivity and shuddered, reluctantly wiping his hand on the leg of his pants. He’d just washed them at home the previous day, so he supposed he would be doing gas station laundry again soon.
True to his word, Anthony continued to kneel obediently, cum dripping down his nose and onto his lips. He was vibrating like he had just come himself, but he didn’t move a muscle.
Frank pressed pause and snapped a picture as well. He knew how much replay that video would be getting over the summer when they were away on their respective tours.
“Clean yourself up, baby,” Frank said, swiping through the cum on Anthony’s left cheek and holding out his finger.
Anthony’s tongue poked out between his lips, eagerly licking Frank’s cum off his fingers and then lapping at the corners of his mouth to get whatever he could reach. It wasn't necessarily a taste that he craved, but he loved how Frank looked at him, satiated and a little unsteady from getting off so quickly, as Anthony drank him down.
Frank set his phone down and gently pulled Anthony’s glasses from his face, holding them to his lips so he could lick those off, too. He stroked Anthony’s hair tenderly, in that oh so soft way he got after he came.
Anthony started shaking, suddenly feeling the chill on his naked skin.
“Let me rinse these off, baby.” Frank pressed a kiss to Anthony’s forehead.
Anthony let his sticky head hang while he waited for Frank to return.
Frank reentered a moment later with clean, dry glasses and a warm washrag. He wiped down Anthony’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Come on, baby, time for bed.”
Anthony let Frank pull him to his feet, lead him through the row of bunks to his own, full of plushies and warm blankets. Frank kicked off his jeans and slid in next to his boyfriend for some necessary cuddle time.
Anthony fell asleep quickly, cuddling one of the various plushies fans had given him during the tour. This particular one was a tiny otter. Frank smiled, remembering the story Anthony had told him about how he and the fan who had given it to him both lit up in delight when they discovered that it squeaked.
Frank quietly slid out of Anthony’s bunk, pulling the blanket over the singer. He sent the video to his wife and quickly typed out a question. It was something they had talked about before, but he wanted to confirm one more time.
Frank stared at his duffel bag. Inside, underneath a hoodie, was a box that contained a special item, one that he had picked up from home the day before. He remembered they would be passing through Niagara Falls early in the morning. Anthony had always waxed poetic about water. He loved sitting by the river and recording covers, the calm but steady rush of the water soothing him while he sang.
Frank had the perfect idea for the morning.