FicWad

You were finishing a (bad) sketch in your (full of bad drawings) sketchbook when there was a knock at the door. You debated about opening it considering although you had your favourite jeans on you were still wearing your pyjama top; the black one with Tinkerbell outlined in pink on. The knocking grew harder and you abandoned your (bad) drawing to walk over to the door, after turning Good Charlotte down (Little Things) and yank it open.
"Yes?" you asked in your best-peeved tone.
"Miss, can you sign for your package please?" the postman asked, holding out a clipboard.
"Package? What package?" you asked suspiciously. The postman scratched his head. "Well it says here that it's Gerard Way, and I guess that's who the random guy in the back of my van is."
You suddenly felt wide-awake. "Uh yeah, I can sign," you muttered before doing just that.
"Great," the man smiled. "I'll just go get him." Your heart started to pound. It couldn't be the actual Gerard Way could it? And then a man walked towards your front door. Black hair, hazel eyes, leather jacket. Your eyes met and you were first one to look away. Because this was Gerard Way. This was the man who's voice you listened to. This was the man who had a cute brother. This was the man whose lyrics seemed to be written for you. This was the man who was now standing in front of you and asking who the hell you were.
"Oh...er...I'm Katie," you stammered, conscious of the fact that your brown hair was a mess. He scowled. "Where's Frank?"
You frowned in confusion. "Frank? I don't know a Frank."
He snorted disbelievingly. "Yeah sure. Good actress."
"Thanks, but I have no idea what you're talking about," you told him, looking up. You weren't exactly short at about 5" 5, but it appeared that the fan sites were right and he was about 5" 8'. He must have seen truth in your eyes or heard bewilderment in your voice because he suddenly seemed dejected. "Fuck," he said angrily. "Told him he was an idiot." You tipped your head to one side but didn't say anything until, "You can come in if you want."
He glanced at you and followed you into the room. He glanced around, obviously taking in all the horrendous pictures of you from all ages, ranging from in hospital to your sixth birthday to the Christmas you didn't have your two front teeth. You inwardly cringed.
"So who are you again?" he asked.
"Katie," you told him.
"I'm Gerard," he told you with a half smile, holding out his hand for you to shake. You took it and suddenly realised how weird it was. Your hero, the one plastered round your room, was here, in your house, shaking your hand.
"So it looks like you own me," the vocalist said conversationally.
"Yeah," you replied awkwardly, sitting down at the table again, cursing your drawing. He took a seat as well and looked over your shoulder. You immediately closed the sketchbook.
"Um," you began eloquently. He grinned, obviously realising just how embarrassed you were. "So you're Katie and judging from the accent you're British?"
You nodded slowly. "Birmingham."
"Isn't whatshisface from there?" Gerard asked looking confused.
You raised an eyebrow. "Well that's helpful." He smiled sheepishly. "I meant Adam, and no, he's not" he explained. You nodded not understanding and then you glanced at the clock.
"Oh my Gosh," you suddenly yelped. "I have to get ready." Gerard glanced at you. "For what?" But his only reply was you running upstairs to your room.
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