Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > An Unconventional Office Romance
An Unconventional Office Romance
2 reviewsGerard Way has an average job, an over imaginative brain and a pest called 'Pete Wentz' ruining his sanity. Gerard's mediocre life starts to look up when a certain dark haired man falls in to his l...
1Original
“I’m so late.” Gerard mutters under his breath, as he checks his watch hurriedly. Well-paying office jobs are not generally known to appreciate tardiness - especially where extremely, ultra, mega important meetings are involved and about to take place in - let’s see…about 1 minute and five seconds. Shit. Run Gerard, you smoke-addled, slightly overweight idiot, run!
He opens and slides through the overwhelmingly large glass door of his offices’ building, with a quick nod to the doorman. He races past the front desk and down a long hallway, complete with dark, shiny, wooden panelling on the walls and past the unnecessary tables topped with fake flowers.
As Gerard rounds the corner, reaching the end of the hall, the elevator finally comes in to view. Thank God. Another minute of running and he’d have been collapsed on the floor in an unfit, sweaty lump.
He stands by the elevator doors for a few seconds, panting heavily. With a deep breath Gerard releases the tight grip that his bony hands had clasped on his knees, and straightens up from his breathless crouch. He runs a hand through his slightly too-long and greasy hair and impatiently stabs at the elevators sleek silver buttons.
Ugh, what a shitty morning he’d had. It had been one of those cliché winter mornings in which Gerard’s coffee maker had broken, which caused him to almost have an emotional breakdown (no coffee in the morning? No Gerard), as well as his pride and joy – the coffee maker – succumbing to its untimely death, so had his car.
Gerard’s car had managed to break down about a mile away from any kind of public transportation, forcing him to hitch hike, (which is usually against his moral values but he was desperate to get to work today) and to get in to a car with a complete stranger. Luckily he’d been taken pity on by an elderly woman, who had been fairly insistent in asking every single detail about his entire life, not to mention asking about all of his previous boyfriends – she had emphasised the ‘boyfriend’, as she grinned a false-teethed and seemingly knowing grin. This, Gerard thinks, was rather presumptuous.
He looks like he could like girls, right? Okay, so his features are a little effeminate, but that doesn’t mean anything! And alright, he doesn’t actually like girls, so technically the old lady was correct in her assumptions, but the audacity of her to just–…
Gerard suddenly blinks out of his reverie and sighs, proceeding to shake his head exasperatedly. Gay rights groups everywhere had been protesting for gay rights. Trying their absolute hardest to create a world where it wasn’t assumed that everyone was straight and here Gerard is thinking about the nerve of an old woman to assume he was gay.
Gerard deems his whole train of thought to be a completely ridiculous and shakes his head once again, hoping to clear his brain of the distracting mind chatter.
Gerard glances over at the elevator again. What the fuck is taking so long? He is now 3 minutes and 10 seconds late and will probably lose any chance of getting his promotion. Hell, he’ll probably get fired! Oh God, then he won’t be able to pay off his mortgage and he’ll be out on the streets, living alone under a park bench in the freezing cold! He’ll have militias of menacing slugs sliming their way over his pale face during the night and entering his ears while he sleeps, so that they can chomp down on his brains, relishing in the taste of fresh meat… And then Gerard will become one of them. Joining them as an over large slug in a suit and -- his over-imaginative brain is cut off from its morbid tale of Gerard’s possible zombie-slug-ear-infestation, as the doors to the elevator finally ding their way open.
~*~
“Ah, Gerard. I see you’ve decided to finally grace us with your presence. One minute later and we would have locked the doors on you. Any who, sit down.” An overweight, balding man in a grey pin-striped suit greets him, swaying an arm out to his right, to gesture to the only empty seat left in the room. There are about ten others dressed in similar stark business attire complete with the company logo.
He isn’t friends with any of them, so he doesn’t care if he takes away a promotion from anyone. Especially not from Pete Wentz, the evil little shit that goes out of his way to make sure he messes up everything Gerard does, or to pitch in snide remarks or comments to him whenever they are within the vicinity of one another. Gerard really does not like Pete Wentz. He likes him even less at this very moment because, one: he’s fairly sure Pete has probably messed up his PowerPoint somehow, he’d probably replaced it with dicks and gay porn instead of Gerard’s graphs, statistics and marketing propositions knowing him. And two: word around is that Wentz slept with the boss, (i.e the balding, overweight man, who is completely ew and seriously, Gerard would never sink that low, unlike Pete obviously had… If you get what he means, wink, nudge) and was now in his very good books.
Gerard just sighs and walks mechanically over to the empty chair, his briefcase held stiffly in his hand.
~*~
Wentz, the evil, little fuck! As Gerard had predicted, Wentz had managed to tamper with Gerard’s PowerPoint, but only long enough to sneak in a slide that stated in huge bold lettering. “I LOVE COCK.” He’d been giving, in his opinion, a pretty convincing marketing campaign for Speed-Light Sneakers, when he’d clicked for the next slide and voila. There it was, projected on the room’s huge screen, in front of his boss.
One of his colleagues in the meeting had muttered rather loudly, ‘I think someone needs to have a meeting on how to separate their work from pleasure.’ The room had cracked up in as much laughter as stuck-up business workers could lower themselves to laugh at the ‘joke’, leaving a humiliated Gerard opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water. Which is really what he is, he thinks.
A fish out of water – not meant to be in the corporate world of advertising and marketing. Yet he’s somehow found his way there, subconsciously following a goal to live comfortably money-wise but not a goal to be truly happy with what he does with his life.
Currently, Gerard is sitting at his desk in his fairly spacious office, his head in his hands. Sighing he runs a hand through his mess of raven black locks and sat back in his health and safety regulation office chair. He hadn’t got the promotion obviously, the boss not having believed him when he stated his case, telling him that Wentz has once again screwed him over. Of course not, nothing good could ever happen to Gerard now, could it? Gerard, still leant back in his chair has fixed his eyes on the bland coloured rubbish bin, placed in the corner of the room. He’s once again lost in his thoughts, but the thoughts gloomier than ever. That’s when it happens…
Hey, so this is my first upload to FicWad, it’s nice to finally post something!
If you read this story, then thank you so very much! I give you all the awards.
This story will be a Frerard, you just gotta wait a little. ;)
Thanks again, Courtney! Xo
P.S tell me if you see any major spelling/grammar issues and I’ll fix them. :)
He opens and slides through the overwhelmingly large glass door of his offices’ building, with a quick nod to the doorman. He races past the front desk and down a long hallway, complete with dark, shiny, wooden panelling on the walls and past the unnecessary tables topped with fake flowers.
As Gerard rounds the corner, reaching the end of the hall, the elevator finally comes in to view. Thank God. Another minute of running and he’d have been collapsed on the floor in an unfit, sweaty lump.
He stands by the elevator doors for a few seconds, panting heavily. With a deep breath Gerard releases the tight grip that his bony hands had clasped on his knees, and straightens up from his breathless crouch. He runs a hand through his slightly too-long and greasy hair and impatiently stabs at the elevators sleek silver buttons.
Ugh, what a shitty morning he’d had. It had been one of those cliché winter mornings in which Gerard’s coffee maker had broken, which caused him to almost have an emotional breakdown (no coffee in the morning? No Gerard), as well as his pride and joy – the coffee maker – succumbing to its untimely death, so had his car.
Gerard’s car had managed to break down about a mile away from any kind of public transportation, forcing him to hitch hike, (which is usually against his moral values but he was desperate to get to work today) and to get in to a car with a complete stranger. Luckily he’d been taken pity on by an elderly woman, who had been fairly insistent in asking every single detail about his entire life, not to mention asking about all of his previous boyfriends – she had emphasised the ‘boyfriend’, as she grinned a false-teethed and seemingly knowing grin. This, Gerard thinks, was rather presumptuous.
He looks like he could like girls, right? Okay, so his features are a little effeminate, but that doesn’t mean anything! And alright, he doesn’t actually like girls, so technically the old lady was correct in her assumptions, but the audacity of her to just–…
Gerard suddenly blinks out of his reverie and sighs, proceeding to shake his head exasperatedly. Gay rights groups everywhere had been protesting for gay rights. Trying their absolute hardest to create a world where it wasn’t assumed that everyone was straight and here Gerard is thinking about the nerve of an old woman to assume he was gay.
Gerard deems his whole train of thought to be a completely ridiculous and shakes his head once again, hoping to clear his brain of the distracting mind chatter.
Gerard glances over at the elevator again. What the fuck is taking so long? He is now 3 minutes and 10 seconds late and will probably lose any chance of getting his promotion. Hell, he’ll probably get fired! Oh God, then he won’t be able to pay off his mortgage and he’ll be out on the streets, living alone under a park bench in the freezing cold! He’ll have militias of menacing slugs sliming their way over his pale face during the night and entering his ears while he sleeps, so that they can chomp down on his brains, relishing in the taste of fresh meat… And then Gerard will become one of them. Joining them as an over large slug in a suit and -- his over-imaginative brain is cut off from its morbid tale of Gerard’s possible zombie-slug-ear-infestation, as the doors to the elevator finally ding their way open.
~*~
“Ah, Gerard. I see you’ve decided to finally grace us with your presence. One minute later and we would have locked the doors on you. Any who, sit down.” An overweight, balding man in a grey pin-striped suit greets him, swaying an arm out to his right, to gesture to the only empty seat left in the room. There are about ten others dressed in similar stark business attire complete with the company logo.
He isn’t friends with any of them, so he doesn’t care if he takes away a promotion from anyone. Especially not from Pete Wentz, the evil little shit that goes out of his way to make sure he messes up everything Gerard does, or to pitch in snide remarks or comments to him whenever they are within the vicinity of one another. Gerard really does not like Pete Wentz. He likes him even less at this very moment because, one: he’s fairly sure Pete has probably messed up his PowerPoint somehow, he’d probably replaced it with dicks and gay porn instead of Gerard’s graphs, statistics and marketing propositions knowing him. And two: word around is that Wentz slept with the boss, (i.e the balding, overweight man, who is completely ew and seriously, Gerard would never sink that low, unlike Pete obviously had… If you get what he means, wink, nudge) and was now in his very good books.
Gerard just sighs and walks mechanically over to the empty chair, his briefcase held stiffly in his hand.
~*~
Wentz, the evil, little fuck! As Gerard had predicted, Wentz had managed to tamper with Gerard’s PowerPoint, but only long enough to sneak in a slide that stated in huge bold lettering. “I LOVE COCK.” He’d been giving, in his opinion, a pretty convincing marketing campaign for Speed-Light Sneakers, when he’d clicked for the next slide and voila. There it was, projected on the room’s huge screen, in front of his boss.
One of his colleagues in the meeting had muttered rather loudly, ‘I think someone needs to have a meeting on how to separate their work from pleasure.’ The room had cracked up in as much laughter as stuck-up business workers could lower themselves to laugh at the ‘joke’, leaving a humiliated Gerard opening and closing his mouth, like a fish out of water. Which is really what he is, he thinks.
A fish out of water – not meant to be in the corporate world of advertising and marketing. Yet he’s somehow found his way there, subconsciously following a goal to live comfortably money-wise but not a goal to be truly happy with what he does with his life.
Currently, Gerard is sitting at his desk in his fairly spacious office, his head in his hands. Sighing he runs a hand through his mess of raven black locks and sat back in his health and safety regulation office chair. He hadn’t got the promotion obviously, the boss not having believed him when he stated his case, telling him that Wentz has once again screwed him over. Of course not, nothing good could ever happen to Gerard now, could it? Gerard, still leant back in his chair has fixed his eyes on the bland coloured rubbish bin, placed in the corner of the room. He’s once again lost in his thoughts, but the thoughts gloomier than ever. That’s when it happens…
Hey, so this is my first upload to FicWad, it’s nice to finally post something!
If you read this story, then thank you so very much! I give you all the awards.
This story will be a Frerard, you just gotta wait a little. ;)
Thanks again, Courtney! Xo
P.S tell me if you see any major spelling/grammar issues and I’ll fix them. :)
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