FicWad

Amy
It was a party. Yes, you heard me correctly, a party. In case you are completely unacquainted with me, let me give you a crash course in four words: I don't do parties.

A lot of the times people say that I am snobbish, that I think I'm too good for other people, that I thought I was the greatest thing to happen since fire. Truth is, I'm just shy. I used to envy the girls in teen movies, so effortless with their cool. Flirting with boys, downing alcohol, dancing to raucous music---all of this seemed to come naturally to them. Never could I fathom being able to do any of that somewhat competently myself. Maybe I was being too harsh on myself. Maybe the girls in movies are supposed to be like that, utterly above all us common mortal women. But I didn't think so. I thought I was the most awkward, ugly chick in this hemisphere, partly because that's what others had told me. Partly because it was what I had told myself.

So here I was. Standing ever-so-uncomfortable against the table holding the potato chips, sandwiched into a corner. I never should have agreed to this, this was a bad decision, I don't even know whose house this is, once again I let my emotions cloud my better judgment and bad things happen when I do that----my brain was a constant whirlwind of thoughts and regrets. I only came here because of him, of course. He asked me if I wanted to come and I, like a complete moron, accepted eagerly, wanting to see him again. I didn't stop for two seconds to contemplate what this agreement would actually entail. Conclusion: I'm a genius. And Gerard was entirely smashed.

The man in question was headbanging to the loud metal music that was blaring out of the stereo, his now longer black hair flinging around in all its sweaty glory. There was no coordination to what he was doing, flailing about and stumbling across every tangible piece of furniture in the room. Still, the crowd around him laughed, cheered, applauded, even. He was definitely the life of the party.

Around the time that Gerard had nearly destroyed the coffee table in the living room, Mikey strode up to me with a plastic red party cup (presumably filled with alcohol)in his hand. "Hey! Having a good time?" He was grinning ear to ear.

The smile on Mikey's face was admittedly infectious; I grinned back, feeling slightly happier now that a familiar face was in my little corner. "Yeah! Gerard sure knows how to...." My voice trailed off as an audible crash was heard over Mikey's shoulder. I tried to lean over the tall, lean man in front of me, certain that Gerard had just hurt himself. "Hey, is your brother all right?" I asked innocently, not wanting to seem concerned. Not that I was. Or anything like that.

Mikey casually looked over his shoulder, past my line of sight. Someone had turned off the music mid-song. "Hey, Gerard, you okay?"

"Bettah than okayyy, I'm fabulushhhhh!"

I closed my eyes in embarrassment for him. The number of audible groans of the other partygoers indicated a similar reaction. A part of me wondered if Gerard ever remembered the insane way he acted when he was drunk. Actually, insane is a bit of an understatement. I had heard stories before about when Gerard Way got high or drunk, about the crazy way he performed, about how much more likely he was to sleep with some devoted groupie, about his propensity to break things. But having gotten to know him at least somewhat well, knowing the myriad thoughts that went through his head, knowing how much he cared about his bandmates and family and what an overall wonderful person he was, it was harder to see him act like an utter jackass.

Mikey turned back to me. "Yeah, I think he's fine. I was wondering....do you want to take a walk? Danielle's got this little path that goes into the woods and into this really pretty clearing that you might want to see...."

"Danielle?"

"Oh, uh, the girl who's renting this house. I should introduce you. She's a really good friend of mine." He paused for a moment, as if trying to remember what he meant to say. "But, anyway, would you like to see it?"

I nodded after a short second of deliberation. If there was any leftover doubt in my mind, the sight of Gerard dancing on the piano in the next room over as Mikey and I left the house was reason enough to vacate the premises.

*
The night was quiet. Mikey and I were lying on our backs in the clearing, being cushioned by the soft grass below us and the lovely sight of glittering stars above us.

"Did you always know you were going to be a musician?" I asked, feeling completely relaxed.
"I guess. In a way, I always did. I mean, I never consciously said, 'I'm gonna be a bass player when I grow up' when I was a kid. But when it happened, it just felt right, ya know? Like I always knew, deep down, that this was what I was going to do with my life. I just didn't realize it soon enough."

I smiled at that. "Deep."

"What about you? Did you always want to be a writer?"

I sat up suddenly, surprised. "How'd you know that?"

Mikey's smile, cutting through the night air, beamed right to my eyesight. He was, in a way, so like Gerard with his charm and that gleeful way he smiled, however rare it happened. "Gerard told me."

I lowered my torso back down again, feeling slightly stupid for not realizing the answer myself. But the feeling of shame did not linger. Mikey made me feel incredibly comfortable, in a way Gerard didn't. It was like talking to my best guy friend, someone I had known for years, someone who I could confide anything to and trust that he wouldn't divulge it to the masses. I didn't have to worry about being judged here.

Then again, I never had to worry about being judged by Gerard either. But it was different. It sounds bad, but I was just more concerned about what the elder Way brother thought of me. I was mostly worried that he would soon discover how unbelievably boring I was and stop talking to me altogether. Which, for some inexplicable reason, made me really scared, like a great detail of my life was contingent on Gerard's acceptance.

In my head, I had even entertained the concept of having a relationship with Gerard. I mean, of course I had. I had practically thought of nothing else since I met him in that tornado shelter. But, realistically, it was never going to happen. What would Gerard, rock god and overall icon, want with me?

"Wow, it's dark," I commented casually. "Must be getting late."

"I guess we better be getting back." Mikey's voice seemed a little weighed down, as if attached to a load of regret. "I'd better see the damage Gerard's done in our absence."

*
The party had mostly cleared out as this point. It was pretty much just the band, a few of their friends, and a group of intensely determined groupies circling Gerard and Frank. There was no way I was going to try to penetrate that.

I turned into the piano room. Gerard had apparently refrained from breaking anything in this room, but it was still almost irreparably trashed. A voluptuous woman with waist-length black hair was kneeling on the ground, gathering the trash into a large black bag. "Uh...uh, hi?" My voice came out slightly wavering. It probably wasn't the best way to introduce myself, but it felt rude to stand there without saying anything.

I was expecting to get yelled at, growled at, or at the very least glared at, but the girl stood up and faced me with a cheery smile on her face and an outstretched hand. "I'm Danielle."
"I'm Amy," I replied, trying to replicate her polite enthusiasm for meeting a new person.

"Oh, you're Gerard's guest, right? He mentioned he was bringing you tonight. How did you guys meet?"

My mind immediately fell, ensnared, directly into panic mode. With little warning, I found myself worried that this was somebody I was supposed to be impressing, somebody whose gentle questions were really disguised interrogation techniques in order to make me slip up and say something that could doom my already hopeless friendship with Gerard. And, still, her smile betrayed nothing. "Oh, in Georgia. In a tornado warning."

"Oh!" Danielle exclaimed and slapped her forehead. "I should have remembered that. I'm sorry. I think Mikey told me that, too. I only really have the pleasure of being buds with Gerard and Mikey because my eeeensy-weeensy little band somehow got billed as an opening act for them." She laughed good-naturedly.

"What's your mand called?"

"Ah, we're the Warring States. I play bass and piano," she replied, gesturing to the piano on her right.

"Um, Danielle?"

The large frame and possibly larger afro of Ray Toro slipped under the frame of the door and into the piano room. He looked over at me and smiled politely but didn't say anything. Probably just wondering who the hell I was.

"Yeah, Ray?" she said back, getting back down to the floor to pick up more trash.

"Oh, um, I was just wondering if you needed any help cleaning up...." His sentence trailed off awkwardly. Something in Ray Toro was screaming kindred spirit to me, and loudly.

Danielle didn't even look up from the ground, continuing to stuff random cups and plates into the bag. "Nope, I got it. Thanks, though."

Ray looked a little frustrated but quickly left the room, his hopes obviously deflated. Poor sap.

Gerard tumbled into the room in Ray's place, the heavy stench of alcohol coming with him.

"Heyy," he murmured to Danielle as he walked into the room. She simply raised her hand in acknowledgement. Gerard was noticeably less in flamboyant party mode at the moment. I wondered if his buzz was wearing off. But as he approached me, I could see clearly by his eyes and the somewhat demented grin on his face that this wasn't the case.

He kept walking towards me until the force of his body had backed me into the nearest wall, gently pressing me into it. "Come upstairs with me," he whispered hoarsely into my ear." I pressed against his chest with both hands, but he didn't move. "Please."

Eventually he peeled himself off me, likely due to the "Hmmmmm!" sound Danielle made behind his back. But he was still whispering in my ear. "Come on. Let's go get a room, please."

"No," I whispered back. "No, I will not get a room with you, no matter how much you beg. Go upstairs with one of those groupies if you're that horny."

"I don't want them, I want you."

I shook my head quickly. "Maybe right now. But not an hour from now. Not a day from now. Not in a month. So no. I will not be your little groupie. I won't screw you and then slip quietly into obscurity."

Through the heavy layer of inebriation that covered his eyes, those windows of expression, I felt that my words had cut him. Cut him deeper than I had intended. He backed away slowly and retreated out of the room.

A thought occurred to me. "Um, Danielle, if you could maybe not...."

"Didn't hear a thing." And she went right on piling trash.

"Thanks.