Riffs in Time

Friday at the studio was different. Gerard was different.

He didn't slink in like usual with his headphones clamped down and that cloud hanging over him. No hunch in his shoulders, no frown. He walked in like he belonged there—relaxed, soft smile, greeting everyone like we weren't used to him avoiding eye contact for entire sessions.

Ray tilted his head slightly, then scanned the room to see if he was the only one seeing this—like Gerard had been swapped with a better-adjusted clone and nobody told him. "Are you... not brooding today?"

Gerard looked at Ray, "Do you want me to?"

Ray shook his head violently.

Mikey raised both brows. "Okay, but seriously, what have you done to my brother?"

Gerard shrugged, casually. "Thought I'd try being tolerable for once."

Frank shot me a look over his coffee, one brow raised. I pretended not to notice.

As we settled into our usual spots to work on the bones of what would become Bulletproof Heart, something else became obvious: Gerard was talking more. Not just tossing out ideas and then retreating into the background, but actually bouncing off of people's suggestions. At one point, Frank picked up his guitar and started messing around with a riff, and Gerard's eyes lit up like someone had just handed him a gift.

"Wait—do that again," Gerard said, sitting forward quickly. "That's it. That's the start."

Frank blinked, surprised. "Seriously?"

"That's exactly the kind of momentum this thing needs," Gerard said, grinning. "It's perfect."

Frank looked down at his guitar, stunned. "Okay, what the hell is going on? A compliment from the Gerard Way?"

"Shit," Gerard said, "I don't say that enough, huh?" then he paused, looking a little sheepish.

"I mean it though," Gerard added quickly, sitting up straighter . "That riff? It's what this song needed. You nailed it."

"Oh my God," Frank said, slapping his chest. "We miss one writing session and now suddenly Gerard's talking? Complimenting? Engaging with the group?"

Gerard rolled his eyes. "You're being dramatic."

"Yes, I'm dramatic," Frank confirmed, pointing at himself. "But you—you're acting like you're a different person."

Ray leaned in, stage-whispering, "You think he found Jesus?"

"Honestly, I'd support it if this was the result" Mikey muttered. "This is the first time in weeks I haven't wanted to launch his headphones into a river."

They all looked at Gerard.

Then at me.

I tried to play it cool. Shrugged. Looked at a cable on the floor like it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. But inside, my brain was doing cartwheels.

Frank's eyes narrowed. "Yana. What did you do to him?"

"I—nothing," I said quickly. "We went to laser tag. He beat me. That's it."

Gerard snorted softly behind his coffee cup. "She was such a sore loser."

"I was not!"

"You threw a foam brick at me."

"I stand by that."

"You still mad about the big gap between our scores?" he asked, leaning slightly toward me.