Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > the fact of the matter it that is just a matter of time

Up Against the Wall

by natzlovesyou 3 reviews

:) aliens and tea bags. lolz.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Bob Bryar - Published: 2007-12-02 - Updated: 2007-12-02 - 819 words

Chapter 18

I sat on the plane, looking out my window/…I couldn’t believe I was leaving everything behind. I finally had friends and someone I lo-/. I stopped myself in the middle of my thoughts before it became too painful to absorb./ and someone I finally cared about/ I concluded on my brain. Before I knew it the tears where streaming down my face, and I was sobbing violently.
“Is something wrong?” The guy that was beside me asked.
I looked at him: pale, blue eyes and blonde hair. Your average American. Except I thought I knew him from somewhere.
“Yes, everything’s wrong!” I managed to say, and cradled my face in my hands.
“Hey, hey…” He said, patting my back. “It’s okay…you can talk to me if you want” He said soothingly. I tried to even my breathing but every time I took some air in Gerard’s face flashed in my memory.
“Maybe what you need it to listen first, that way you can escape from your thoughts…Okay…My name’s Bob. I sometimes go to Belleville and throw amazing parties, where almost everyone throws up and- Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”
I managed to control my breathing and sobbing enough to articulate, “Are you the Bob?”
“Wait, you know me?”
I nodded.
“But I don’t know who you are….Do you live in Belleville?”
I nodded once more. He stared harder at my face.
“Oh, yeah I’ve seen you before! You’re um…what’s his name? The dude with the fro….hmmm….Ray’s friend?”
I nodded again.
“Man, isn’t this a coincidence!” He mumbled. “So, why are you going to Chicago?”
“Mom’s sick”
“Oh…so you were crying because of that?”
“Yes…and no. She’s probably going to die and I’m going to be in Chicago when I finally fit in on Jersey…and Gerard and…” I shut my mouth before I started crying hysterically once more.
“You and…Gerard? As in Way?”
“Yeah. Well, we were gonna. Or something of the sort. But not now, a million miles away. This is simply craptacular….” I mumbled.
Bob started laughing,” Craptacular? Where do you get that from?”
“I think Frank or Kamz said it once or twice…”
“Kamz?” He asked and got a little red.
I stared at him. Seriously who hadn’t Kamz banged?
At the end of the ride Bob gave me his number since I didn’t knew mine. He made me promise to call whenever I felt lonely or in desperate need to fly to Jersey. Apparently he was rich. Like rich rich.

I took my luggage from the luggage ramp and started walking towards were there was a mass concentration of people. I looked around for my aunt’s face. Of course, I didn’t really remember it, but she shouldn’t’ve changed much, right? I mean, people don’t change much when they’re thirty something until they’re forty something. They still look the same. It’s not like us teens that can turn into a completely different person. Plus, the old people like stability, they actually like not changing. I can’t understand that, but oh well, what can you do about that?
I started getting tired of waiting for someone to appear miraculously so instead I walked to Starbucks and ordered an espresso with a zillion shots.
I sat on one of the small tables and there I saw her.
“Gabrielle! Oh I’m so sorry I was in desperate need of coffee!” I stared at her. She had bleached hair, a black Metallica top, skinny black jeans with a buckle belt, leather boots. I could see the start of a tattoo in between her breasts and she had a lip ring.
That simply could not be my aunt. I looked at myself: leather black boots, a striped black and neon blue dress with my leather jacket on, and gigantic black sunglasses, my short hair into a useless mini ponytail.
“A-Auntie?” I muttered, in complete awe. She nodded and went to hug me.
“You’re …different” I managed to say.
“I’m me now” She stated.
A smile formed in my lips, “what does mom think about that?”
“Well they don’t let me enter her room like this now because the first time I visited she freaked out. So I have to wear dull-colored dresses and granny shoes and put a bandana in my head and I can’t use makeup. But even if I didn’t have to dress four times my age it would still be depressing…”
“How so?” I asked, dreading the answer.
She looked at me sceptically as we walked towards her mini van, “How so? You’re mother’s dying, Gabe.” She stated and with her words my momentary glee went with the wind.
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