FicWad

"Did you see that kid?"

He snorts. "Which one? If you didn't notice, we do seem to attract a lot of /kids/."

"The, uh...the creepy one."

The heater clicks on and I praise the holy tour bus gods silently while snuggling further into my comforter--Batman this time. The back room gets considerably colder than any other part of the bus, but it's by far the most comfortable. Gerard sits causally next to me, chipping the black polish off of his nails, which proves difficult as he only applied that afternoon and it pretty much has a death hold on his cuticles.

I'd rather not state the specifics of how we came back to this position, since I had been so against it last night. I'd like to blame it on random late night urges and slow brain waves due to considerable lack of sleep, but, like I said--I'm a terrible liar.

I just wanted comfort. And at eleven o'clock at night, I knew he wasn't asleep by the rustling above my bunk and when I had pulled back the curtains--sure enough--I found him with a flashlight, a comic book, and a pen and notepad. He stared at me. I stared at him. He said my name lightly, almost like a question, more like a statement, and the first words out of my mouth were "Wanna talk?"

And, of course, he did. Gerard talks. He's good at it. Probably making up for all those years in basic solitude. So before I could register what I had said, he'd climbed out of his bunk, grabbed the Batman comforter, and made his way happily to the back room. Slightly befuddled with myself, I had followed.

And here we were. The same arrangement as yesterday, except this time, I seemed to know what the hell was going on.

He smiled, more to my reply than to me. "If you hadn't noticed, Frankie/, most of kids we attract /are the weird ones."

"And since you failed to notice," I retorted, almost smiling deep within my fortress of comfort, "the main reason we attract said weird kids is due to the blatant weirdness of our lead singer."

His head cocked to the side. "Is weirdness a word?"

"It doesn't sound like one," I pondered. "Did I just make something up? Something /useable/?"

He chuckled, filling the gaping holes of awkward silence that surrounded us, but never really came between us. "I know, it's a miracle. Heaven knows you're not the brightest child."

"Yeah, at least I don't wear fake blood and read comics in my pajamas."

"Yes you do."

"Well, at least it wasn't my idea."

"Yes it was!"

Gerard laughed and I sighed.

"See? I knew that. It's my brain...it doesn't...connect with my mouth. There's a giant gaping void there that gets filled with the most random--"

"Bullshit?" Gerard offered, and I glowered at him.

"Just wait. One day, Way, I'll say some ingenious, remarkable question you can't answer, or something, and you'll fucking love me."

"Keep dreaming."

"I doubt that," I snorted, shifting in my covers as I finally felt the heat creep up from the floor. "Seeing as I don't sleep enough to dream."

Gerard eyed me carefully before reaching out and pulling me towards him, blanket and all. He leant himself back against the couch and stretched out his legs, wrapping his arms around me as I was gently forced against his chest. I was taken aback for a moment, then, gradually, relaxed my muscles and calmed down.

"So," he whispered. "Tell me about this kid."

I accidentally nuzzled my head under his chin as I shifted again, but he didn't seem to mind. I sighed, feeling the heat creep up the side of the couch.

"He...I'm not sure. He had this weird presence about him. Like he wasn't normal. And the way he looked at me...it's almost as if he knew something I didn't. Something about me that I don't know."

"Wow," Gerard said, "he conveyed all that with just one look?"

I searched every part of those words for sarcasm, or mockery, or humor, but could find none. Perplexed, and yet calmer, I nodded my head gently, feeling the fabric of his old Iron Maiden shirt against my cheek.

"Yeah, but...I don't know. It was just weird. I just wondered if you saw him too."

"Mm...no, I don't think so. I would've remembered /that/."

The heat was spreading up through the comforter, and yet the warmth of Gerard was passing down through my body.

"If I see him against tomorrow, I'll point him out to you. You might get a kick out of him."

"He'll probably just want to stalk us; you know--not that it's not flattering, but I think I've heard enough "You've saved my life!"'s to become the new Jesus. But...I can't get irritated by it. I love saving lives. It's what I do. Or, what I've begun to do."

The warmth from the heater had combined with Gerard's body heat, but I could tell them apart; Gerard's warmth made me want to cling onto his shirt, just to get more of it. It felt foreign. It felt sacred. I felt insatiable. I had never felt more comfortable in my life. Sleep. Sleep like this, just like this, for days...

I sighed into his collar, burrowing myself deep between the couch and his side, longing for more heat. "You save lives...but who will save yours?"

His grip around my waist tightened, and he placed his cheek affectionately against my head. I didn't protest.

"That, Frankie," he whispered, "is your ingenious, remarkable question."