Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Face It
Facing It
“Gee, I need to talk to you.” I stutter nervously, acting very much like the shy little kid I was before this tour started.
Before I met Pete Wentz.
“What’s up, Bro?” Gerard smiles back at me, looking up from where he’s sat drawing on the couch of the bus, eyes showing me that he’s ready to listen like he always is. “You stick a fork in a toaster again?”
I sigh as I flop down next to him, unable to laugh at our old joke because right now I’ve got to focus or else I’ll never get it out. And I’ve got to; I’ve got to tell Gerard Way, quite possibly the most overprotective big brother in the universe, that I’m going out with Pete Wentz. Why do I have to tell him? Because Pete wants me to move in with him after the tour end this weekend, something that can’t just be explained away with lame excuses about pre-show nerves.
I look over at Gerard’s sketchbook to see what it is he’s been doodling; his drawings always calm me down.
It’s a grotesque, bloody scene that sends shivers up my spine at the amount of crimson ink on the page. There’s a vampire, somewhat resembling Gee himself, feasting brutally on some poor short guy. A poor short guy who looks eerily like Pete.
Great.
“Mikey, what is it? What’s wrong?” Gerard’s voice is full of concern as he realises that I’m not here to joke around, that something serious is going through my head.
I swallow and look back up at him from his disturbing drawing, no doubt something he’d like to make a reality, forcing myself to remember that I’m doing this for Pete. No, not for Pete; for us. As in me and Pete, the two bassists with more dirty little secrets than Gerard needs to know. But it won’t be me and Pete for much longer if I don’t get it right; it will be me and the smoking, tattered remains of Pete’s beloved manhood.
“I, err, I’ve got something I need to tell you.” I gnaw at my lip, avoiding his worried gaze to the best of my ability because I know if I look him in the eye I won’t be able to say it.
“I’m listening.” He says softly, a hand coming to rest on my shoulder as he shuffles to get closer to me. “You know you can tell me anything, Bro.”
One shaky inhalation of oxygen later and my courage levels are still below absolute zero. As childish as it may sound, I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before and I managed to cock that one up by telling Gerard. I really don’t want to lose Pete; he’s the one person who can make me feel like I’m actually special. Like I’m not just some spare part in a band that doesn’t even need me.
Hang on a minute.
Of course they fucking need me! Pete told me they do; he said that without bassists there’s no pulse to a song and how can something be alive without a pulse?
It’s just one of his pearls of wisdom that make me love him all the more. And all the more afraid of telling Gerard because where’s the fun in Pete if ends up castrated?
“Well, uh, um…” I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’ve got to do this. For my Peterpanda. “I’m moving out after the tour’s over.”
“That’s great, Bro! You finally found yourself a place, huh? Whereabouts in New Jersey is it?”
I can’t help but wince at how happy he sounds for me. At how happy he sounds at the thought of me being out on my own, but still close to him at the same time. Apart from I’m not going to be close to him at all, I’m going to be close to Pete and miles from home.
Apart from now I guess home is wherever Pete is.
“Chicago.” I look down quickly, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie like it’s as interesting as Pete is when he gets an idea stuck in his head. “Gee, I’m moving in with Pete.”
“Oh.” His smile falters but doesn’t fall, he just hugs me close as though he can protect me from whatever might happen to me when he’s not right by my side. “I guess you two have gotten really close. You’re like best friends, right?”
How?
How can my own big brother still be in denial about it? Fair enough, Pete and I have done our best to hide it up until now, but how can he think that all the marks on my neck were caused by mosquitos? How can he think that I spend all my time on the Fall Out Boy bus acting like a nun? How can he think that Pete and I take all of those “cigarette breaks” that just so happen to dent the side of our bus, just because we enjoy smoking in each other’s company, even in the rain?
It’s because he thinks I’m a baby. A silly little child with nothing more than unicorns and rainbows going on in my head. Well, I’m sick of being the baby.
“Boyfriends, Gee.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “Pete’s my boyfriend.”
After ten whole minutes of silence I look up from my lap to see Gerard gawping at me, jaw like a deadweight and eyes looking as though I’ve just told him precisely what I did in Pete’s bunk last night. Not that I ever would tell him; it’s disturbing enough for me to just think about, let alone retell to my big brother.
“Gee? Say something. Please.” I beg, using my apparent natural innocence to defuse whatever time bomb might be ticking away in his head.
“Those bangs on the bus, they weren’t cats. Were they?” He squeaks, face twenty times paler than it’s normal vampiric shade of white.
“No. No that was me and Pete.”
For a second he looks like he’s going to explode in either disbelief at the thought of me doing something so un-babyish, or in anger at Pete for apparently pushing me down the path of smutty filth that I know for a fact Gerard himself has gone down with Frank. It wasn’t even Pete’s idea to do it against the bus.
I thought of that one all by myself.
Suddenly he looks down at his drawing, scowling at it before throwing it to one side.
“Do you really love him?”
I nod, my eyes beseeching my big brother to understand like he always has done with everything over than my, before this tour, non-existent love life.
“Then go for it, Bro. Just don’t let Pete come near me for a few days, unless you want to be dating a corpse.”
“Thanks, Gee.”
A/N: And that’s the end of that. Sorry for the crappy ending, but I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think! :)
“Gee, I need to talk to you.” I stutter nervously, acting very much like the shy little kid I was before this tour started.
Before I met Pete Wentz.
“What’s up, Bro?” Gerard smiles back at me, looking up from where he’s sat drawing on the couch of the bus, eyes showing me that he’s ready to listen like he always is. “You stick a fork in a toaster again?”
I sigh as I flop down next to him, unable to laugh at our old joke because right now I’ve got to focus or else I’ll never get it out. And I’ve got to; I’ve got to tell Gerard Way, quite possibly the most overprotective big brother in the universe, that I’m going out with Pete Wentz. Why do I have to tell him? Because Pete wants me to move in with him after the tour end this weekend, something that can’t just be explained away with lame excuses about pre-show nerves.
I look over at Gerard’s sketchbook to see what it is he’s been doodling; his drawings always calm me down.
It’s a grotesque, bloody scene that sends shivers up my spine at the amount of crimson ink on the page. There’s a vampire, somewhat resembling Gee himself, feasting brutally on some poor short guy. A poor short guy who looks eerily like Pete.
Great.
“Mikey, what is it? What’s wrong?” Gerard’s voice is full of concern as he realises that I’m not here to joke around, that something serious is going through my head.
I swallow and look back up at him from his disturbing drawing, no doubt something he’d like to make a reality, forcing myself to remember that I’m doing this for Pete. No, not for Pete; for us. As in me and Pete, the two bassists with more dirty little secrets than Gerard needs to know. But it won’t be me and Pete for much longer if I don’t get it right; it will be me and the smoking, tattered remains of Pete’s beloved manhood.
“I, err, I’ve got something I need to tell you.” I gnaw at my lip, avoiding his worried gaze to the best of my ability because I know if I look him in the eye I won’t be able to say it.
“I’m listening.” He says softly, a hand coming to rest on my shoulder as he shuffles to get closer to me. “You know you can tell me anything, Bro.”
One shaky inhalation of oxygen later and my courage levels are still below absolute zero. As childish as it may sound, I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before and I managed to cock that one up by telling Gerard. I really don’t want to lose Pete; he’s the one person who can make me feel like I’m actually special. Like I’m not just some spare part in a band that doesn’t even need me.
Hang on a minute.
Of course they fucking need me! Pete told me they do; he said that without bassists there’s no pulse to a song and how can something be alive without a pulse?
It’s just one of his pearls of wisdom that make me love him all the more. And all the more afraid of telling Gerard because where’s the fun in Pete if ends up castrated?
“Well, uh, um…” I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’ve got to do this. For my Peterpanda. “I’m moving out after the tour’s over.”
“That’s great, Bro! You finally found yourself a place, huh? Whereabouts in New Jersey is it?”
I can’t help but wince at how happy he sounds for me. At how happy he sounds at the thought of me being out on my own, but still close to him at the same time. Apart from I’m not going to be close to him at all, I’m going to be close to Pete and miles from home.
Apart from now I guess home is wherever Pete is.
“Chicago.” I look down quickly, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie like it’s as interesting as Pete is when he gets an idea stuck in his head. “Gee, I’m moving in with Pete.”
“Oh.” His smile falters but doesn’t fall, he just hugs me close as though he can protect me from whatever might happen to me when he’s not right by my side. “I guess you two have gotten really close. You’re like best friends, right?”
How?
How can my own big brother still be in denial about it? Fair enough, Pete and I have done our best to hide it up until now, but how can he think that all the marks on my neck were caused by mosquitos? How can he think that I spend all my time on the Fall Out Boy bus acting like a nun? How can he think that Pete and I take all of those “cigarette breaks” that just so happen to dent the side of our bus, just because we enjoy smoking in each other’s company, even in the rain?
It’s because he thinks I’m a baby. A silly little child with nothing more than unicorns and rainbows going on in my head. Well, I’m sick of being the baby.
“Boyfriends, Gee.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “Pete’s my boyfriend.”
After ten whole minutes of silence I look up from my lap to see Gerard gawping at me, jaw like a deadweight and eyes looking as though I’ve just told him precisely what I did in Pete’s bunk last night. Not that I ever would tell him; it’s disturbing enough for me to just think about, let alone retell to my big brother.
“Gee? Say something. Please.” I beg, using my apparent natural innocence to defuse whatever time bomb might be ticking away in his head.
“Those bangs on the bus, they weren’t cats. Were they?” He squeaks, face twenty times paler than it’s normal vampiric shade of white.
“No. No that was me and Pete.”
For a second he looks like he’s going to explode in either disbelief at the thought of me doing something so un-babyish, or in anger at Pete for apparently pushing me down the path of smutty filth that I know for a fact Gerard himself has gone down with Frank. It wasn’t even Pete’s idea to do it against the bus.
I thought of that one all by myself.
Suddenly he looks down at his drawing, scowling at it before throwing it to one side.
“Do you really love him?”
I nod, my eyes beseeching my big brother to understand like he always has done with everything over than my, before this tour, non-existent love life.
“Then go for it, Bro. Just don’t let Pete come near me for a few days, unless you want to be dating a corpse.”
“Thanks, Gee.”
A/N: And that’s the end of that. Sorry for the crappy ending, but I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think! :)
Sign up to rate and review this story