Clary can only dream of meeting the boys of My Chemical Romance but one day she wakes up to find she actually does.
He was, at that moment, signing notebooks, shirts, arms and so forth. He pushed up his sunglasses as he signed someone's CD. He chuckled lightly when she gushed and thanked him repeatedly. He was moving closer, signing items one by one until he finally reached her.
"Did you want me to sign something?" he asked.
She blinked and tried her best to snap out of her trance. The question hadn't yet reached her brain but she nodded anyway.
"Um..." she searched through her bag and found a pen. She shyly handed it to him. "Could...could...you...um..." her words crashed and trailed. She had, in one terrifyingly embarrassing and paralyzing moment forgotten how to speak the English language.
He smiled and she swore her stomach must have floated somewhere else.
"I'll just sign your arm. Is that okay?" he asked, peering at her over his sunglasses. His eyes twinkled with laughter and she could feel her cheeks burn like the fires of hell.
She nodded numbly.
He smiled again and took her arm, signing his name on the inside of her forearm. Once he had finished he handed the pen back to her and winked at her before moving on to some other fans.
She tried to catch her breath as her heart beat so fast she thought it might jump out of her chest and land on the ground infront of her, beating away on the cold pavement. It would just be her luck if that really happened.
She continued to stare in awe as he signed some more of his fans items. He then made his way to the back door of the building. He waved before disappearing inside.
The excited crowd dispersed but Clary stayed where she was, her feet glued to the ground.
As she began to drift back to the real world, she blinked and tried to shake off the last of her daze.
She walked off slowly, wondering what had just happened.
That was when she remembered something. She stopped and lifted her right arm and stared at her signed limb.
She read the scribbled name and burned a mental note on her brain to look it up and find out who he was.
You could barely make out what the scribble said but she could read it perfectly and she smiled to herself.
"Gerard Way," she whispered to herself.
She wondered who he was and where he came from. She could tell he was famous for something. But for what? Was he an actor? A singer? Or an artist, perhaps?
Whoever he was, she was beginning to feel the first ticklings of infatuation already.