Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Of Comics and Coffee
As soon as she rounded the corner, Lauren broke into her second sprint of the day. It was 4:45 now and she had only 15 minutes to make it back to the common room of her dorm to meet Grant. The after effects of the interview, the running, and her anxiety over the first date she had in over a year left her stomach doing acrobats like it was in a chinese circus. With a grimace, she pressed her hand into her belly as she ran and willed herself not to throw up.
When she finally reached the building she did not bother waiting for an elevator but ran up the stairs to the third floor. She gulped as she swung around the rails of the different landings, her guts still churning and her stress level skyrocketing. Why did she always have to be late?
She quickly reached her floor and burst into the hall, pausing just briefly to steady herself for the final stretch. After only a few yards, she finally made it to the common room to find Grant waiting for her.
“There you are!” He came over to her and pulled her into a brief hug, “I was starting to think you stood me up!” He paused for a moment when he saw her delirious smile and heavily panting breaths. Her face was bright red and her light brown hair stuck out in random waves and puffs “Hey, you ok?”
Lauren nodded her head and opened her mouth to say, “Yeah, I'm great! Sorry I'm so late!” What instead came out was a very sudden outburst of the food she ate earlier that then landed on his shoes.
-
Gerard trudged through the door of his apartment and tossed his keys onto the nearby counter. As soon as they met the ceramic tiles, the phone rang in unison with the tinkling of the metal keys. He tripped over himself as he kicked off his shoes and rushed through the living room to pick up the phone. “Hello?” Only business calls came in on this phone, his cell phone was reserved for only his close friends and anyone involved with the comics he wrote.
“Gerard? Gerard Way?” A deep voice came through the phone to him and he briefly pulled it away from his ear because it was so loud.
“Ah yes, this is Gerard,” he replied.
“I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Dr. Richards from UCLA. We met once at a benefit show a couple years ago,” Gerard frowned in concentration but quickly remembered the man.
“Yes! I remember! How are you?” He could vaguely recall hearing that his brother worked with him on and off when scouting for the record label.
“I'm really great, thanks. I'm actually calling because you're brother, Michael, said you could help me out with something?” At first Gerard was wary but he remembered his brother was good at not getting him into trouble.
“Ah yeah, sure. What's up?”
“Well,” Dr. Richards sighed heavily, “I put together master classes for the music students to learn from guest speakers and for a few of the students to perform to get critiques to help elaborate on the lecture.” Gerard nodded his head in understanding even though he knew the doctor couldn't see the motion. “The problem is,” the voice continued, “The next guest speaker pulled out very suddenly and left me with a slot to fill and as the lecture was supposed on emotional performance and getting past nerves to properly communicate, your brother said you'd be perfect for the job.”
The red head's eyes widened and he held the phone away from his mouth to allow himself a single curse. “Well, I'll do my best!” Gerard forced a smile on his face but deep down inside he was far from pleased. Performing he could handle, but public speaking and teaching? That was another matter. “Just a quick question though, about how big would the class be?”
“Oh, well it's open to any music students interested and all the voice students and choirs will be present. Usually these lectures bring in a bit more than a hundred, no more than two, and then four student performers.” Dr. Richard's tone bellied an easiness of manner and a flippancy that Gerard couldn't help but despise. “Oh, and it will be on the 13th next month so you have two weeks to prepare.”
“Uh... ok,” the singer mumbled.
“Great! Again, thank you so much for your help! This will be great, I just know it!” Gerard nodded his head again and said his goodbyes before hanging up the phone. He collapsed on the nearby couch and reached into the back pocket of his black jeans. He punched in a number and waited for the recipient to pick up. He did after two rings. “Hello?”
“Michael James Way, I'm going to murder you.”
A/N: heh... I so mean to the characters... Thank you all who reviewed and read this! Please keep up the comments and ratings! You guys are the bestest.
When she finally reached the building she did not bother waiting for an elevator but ran up the stairs to the third floor. She gulped as she swung around the rails of the different landings, her guts still churning and her stress level skyrocketing. Why did she always have to be late?
She quickly reached her floor and burst into the hall, pausing just briefly to steady herself for the final stretch. After only a few yards, she finally made it to the common room to find Grant waiting for her.
“There you are!” He came over to her and pulled her into a brief hug, “I was starting to think you stood me up!” He paused for a moment when he saw her delirious smile and heavily panting breaths. Her face was bright red and her light brown hair stuck out in random waves and puffs “Hey, you ok?”
Lauren nodded her head and opened her mouth to say, “Yeah, I'm great! Sorry I'm so late!” What instead came out was a very sudden outburst of the food she ate earlier that then landed on his shoes.
-
Gerard trudged through the door of his apartment and tossed his keys onto the nearby counter. As soon as they met the ceramic tiles, the phone rang in unison with the tinkling of the metal keys. He tripped over himself as he kicked off his shoes and rushed through the living room to pick up the phone. “Hello?” Only business calls came in on this phone, his cell phone was reserved for only his close friends and anyone involved with the comics he wrote.
“Gerard? Gerard Way?” A deep voice came through the phone to him and he briefly pulled it away from his ear because it was so loud.
“Ah yes, this is Gerard,” he replied.
“I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Dr. Richards from UCLA. We met once at a benefit show a couple years ago,” Gerard frowned in concentration but quickly remembered the man.
“Yes! I remember! How are you?” He could vaguely recall hearing that his brother worked with him on and off when scouting for the record label.
“I'm really great, thanks. I'm actually calling because you're brother, Michael, said you could help me out with something?” At first Gerard was wary but he remembered his brother was good at not getting him into trouble.
“Ah yeah, sure. What's up?”
“Well,” Dr. Richards sighed heavily, “I put together master classes for the music students to learn from guest speakers and for a few of the students to perform to get critiques to help elaborate on the lecture.” Gerard nodded his head in understanding even though he knew the doctor couldn't see the motion. “The problem is,” the voice continued, “The next guest speaker pulled out very suddenly and left me with a slot to fill and as the lecture was supposed on emotional performance and getting past nerves to properly communicate, your brother said you'd be perfect for the job.”
The red head's eyes widened and he held the phone away from his mouth to allow himself a single curse. “Well, I'll do my best!” Gerard forced a smile on his face but deep down inside he was far from pleased. Performing he could handle, but public speaking and teaching? That was another matter. “Just a quick question though, about how big would the class be?”
“Oh, well it's open to any music students interested and all the voice students and choirs will be present. Usually these lectures bring in a bit more than a hundred, no more than two, and then four student performers.” Dr. Richard's tone bellied an easiness of manner and a flippancy that Gerard couldn't help but despise. “Oh, and it will be on the 13th next month so you have two weeks to prepare.”
“Uh... ok,” the singer mumbled.
“Great! Again, thank you so much for your help! This will be great, I just know it!” Gerard nodded his head again and said his goodbyes before hanging up the phone. He collapsed on the nearby couch and reached into the back pocket of his black jeans. He punched in a number and waited for the recipient to pick up. He did after two rings. “Hello?”
“Michael James Way, I'm going to murder you.”
A/N: heh... I so mean to the characters... Thank you all who reviewed and read this! Please keep up the comments and ratings! You guys are the bestest.
Sign up to rate and review this story