Gerard meets a really strange fan....ew, no, he doesn't fall in love with her!
The night was as ordinary as any of the ones had been during the past few weeks. The fans were hyped up and enthusiastic as they asked for autographs. Teenage girls swooned at just the slightest smile from Mikey Way, or the smallest bounce of Ray Toro’s russet tinted afro. There was an enormous response for, “Get that thing out of my face!” credited to Bob Bryar hiding from the cameras. But what received the most cheering was what fans liked to call “Frerard.” It happened after every show; blinding lights would beg for the shortest intimate moment between Frank and Gerard. The fans hardly received any of these offstage. Tonight was different. Gerard nibbled on Frank’s neck freely, not caring who saw or what they thought of it. All he knew was that Frank was hot, and he didn’t seem to mind the kissing. So what the fuck, right?
Oh, but Frank minded. He was simply pissed out of his mind. He had to use every ounce of willpower in him to prevent him from knocking Gerard out. He knew he had to be calm. There was something going terribly wrong with his best friend, and getting angry probably wouldn’t help him. But as Gerard’s warm lips pressed against his skin his aggravation grew. He knew that every one of those kisses were out of pure lust, nothing else. His fists balled, clutching all his anger between calloused fingers.
The rest of the band too, had been noticing changes in Gerard over the period of their tour so far. At first it had been subtle, just tiny little smiles of pride. Tonight, though, Gerard had gone from the quiet, shy, often depressed man they knew to this...freaky guy who grinned like the Cheshire cat! None of them took his happiness as mere happiness. There was something else to the way he was behaving. It was almost like... arrogance.
Mikey gave his brother a weird look, thinking about this. Gerard could barely stay in his seat. If there were walls surrounding him, he would have been bouncing off them. It was like a giant cauldron of ecstasy, brewing inside him. Mikey raised an eyebrow, noting what Gerard was doing to the fangirls. Whenever he wasn’t slobbering all over Frank, Gerard would give one of the more attractive fans a flirtatious wink. They, of course, adored this but Mikey found it creepy. It made Gerard seem like some sort of pedophile.
Eventually, the crowd thinned out as satisfied fans took walks towards their vehicles. There were only a couple of people waiting to be signed off. Gerard rested his chin on his palm as he scribbled his signature on some girl’s picture of his band. He wasn’t really sure what exactly he had been signing this past night. Random phrases just popped into his head, moving directly from his hand to his pen; his brain wasn’t really involved. Watch out for flying shit. Love you lots, Gee Way. The girl squealed happily, reading this before moving over to Ray. Toro eyed Gerard’s message with a curious expression. Gerard yawned, apparently bored. His energy had died down quite a bit, although his mind was still fogged up. His mind began to wander off to the tour bus, to his bed, under the covers, where his special cure lay, all alone. He needed to be with it soon, he needed some more joy in his life. His eyes wandered up to the next fan, whose footsteps had stopped in front of him.
He shot up with a jolt, staring at the girl. She was strikingly different from all the other fans. Everyone at the shows usually imitated or improvised the band’s style; wearing thick eyeliner, unnaturally paled faces, dark clothing, with dyed hair, and side bangs, looking overall dead. This girl though, wore a light pink flowered shirt, with the most preppy looking sparkly jeans underneath. Her light, curly brown hair fell to her shoulders loosely around a long face. Gerard wasn’t trying to stereotype, but that’s essentially what he was doing. She was the most un-My Chemical Romance-y person ever. Gerard wondered if she was really a fan or not. She stood with a notebook clutched to her chest, staring at the previous fan, who was still in front of Ray.
Gerard decided to give her a chance. She was kind of pretty, “Hey, I could sign that while you’re waiting for Toro.”
Her head tilted over to Gerard, as if she had just noticed him. He concluded from her face that she was not as young as most of the other fans; maybe around Gerard’s age. He smiled pleasantly at her, waiting for a reply.
Her voice came out quiet and melodious, but her words were like sharp knives, “No thanks. I don’t want your autograph.” She turned her head back to Ray, who was now free.
Gerard was not quite sure what to make of it. He watched in confusion as she smiled, and talked, and almost flirted with his band mates. She seemed to know enough about the band, maybe even more than most people just judging by the words she spoke. He could not understand the meaning of, “I don’t want your autograph.” Those words had definitely caught hold of his attention. He waited until the last person, Bob, signed her notebook. She grinned at him and asked for a picture jokingly. Bob started to flail his arms about in an obviously fake mini-seizure thing. Gerard slid in the way between the laughing pair, jumping atop the table.
“You can get my picture,” he suggested, “I’m not afraid of a little digital camera.”
She frowned at him, “Uh...no, that’s fine...I was just kidding...”
“Why?” he asked straightforwardly, “Don’t you like the band? Or is it just my lyrics?”
She let out a small, wry giggle that Gerard just couldn’t comprehend, “Oh I love the band, and I love your lyrics, just not you. Jerks like you just aren’t attractive, sorry.”
Following a shy smile towards Bob, she spun on her heel and began walking. Gerard stared after, dumbstruck. He didn’t even know that girl! How the fuck could she be so quick to judge him? Why did she call him a jerk? Had he somehow known her in college? He was rapped his brains to send out all those thoughts. It shouldn’t matter to him what one random “fan” thought. She wasn’t important. But she had been so direct, unafraid. It was strange.
His mind snapped back into reality. Three of his band members had started to the merch counter, farther away, to help those guys clean up. Only Frank stood, opposing him with his hands shoved into his pockets.
He took a huge step closer when he saw Gerard look down at him, “She’s right, you know. Even if we don’t know her..." they almost touched but Frank leaned away, "She’s right.”
With that he jogged towards Ray, Mikey, and Bob, leaving Gerard alone with his thoughts. The singer roared angrily and slammed his fist on the table. This caught the attention of his friends. There were shouts of, “Are you okay, Gerard?” from everyone but Frank. He chose to ignore them all. He was in shock at Frank’s words. He had believed Frank to be one of his best friends...but apparently the short man thought he was a jerk. His mind needed some clearing up, some alcohol pumping through his veins. And there was still some of that cocaine he had promised himself. He hopped off his seat. “Are you okay?” his friends had asked. They of all people should know that he was not o-fucking-kay.
Thanks to the people who reviewed. Sorry it took a while for this chapter, I was busy fucking up in school.