FicWad

I’m not gonna have my interesting/weird/slightly sci fi sort of paragraph here. I know, I know, I’m slacking. And sorry about not updating in seven milllion years, I’ve been busy. REAL busy. Girl drama. Hate being a girl... Long story. Anywho, in case you were a bit confuzzled, I’ll just explain it right here.
So. This girl, Claire(I don't think I ever said her name that “might” be her real name...) figures she’s having these weird, story-like dreams. In her “dreams,” she’s Daniella Iverson, engaged to Gerard Way. She thinks that every time she goes to sleep in the “dream” she’ll wake up in “reality,” vice versa. What she doesn’t know is that her “dream” might be her “reality.” Maybe she’s got it all wrong, which is what she started to think previously when pondering whether to tell Gerard she was a sixth grader in these dreams she was having.
Well, what do you think? This is a bit confuzzling, I know... My mind ceates the strangest things.


Muahahahahaha. Hope that cleared it up, everybody. =D Enjoy!!!
Ps. What she thinks is her reality(the twelve-year-old-one) is bold, and her “dream”(with MCR) is regular font. I like bold better than italics.
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“Claire? Hello?”
“Leamelone,” I slurred, rolling over in my bed.
“Wake up, honey, you’ve slept just about half the day.”
“Time not wasted,” I grumbled, and my eyes opened to slits.
“Time wasted. You’ve got a big day ahead of you... Happy birthday.” I peered at my mother. She had black, wavy hair that fell past her shoulders and curved around her German chin. Thank God she had lost the accent before I was born. I hate those accents. Her blue eyes sparkled and I looked at what she held in her hand.
Two tickets and to an MCR concert in Chicago.
“Oh my God! You flippin’ rock, Mom!” I shouted, sitting up and hugging her tight. She fell onto my bed, and we giggled.
“It’s tonight. We can’t be late. Oh, and, I have something else for you.” She leaned over me and grabbed something off my nightstand. It was a short, wide box, about the width of my wrist to my fingertips and the height of a textbook from school. “I hope you like it,” She said, smiling brightly as I began to peel of the paper delicately. I slid off the lid eagerly, and almost screamed when I saw what was inside.
“Mom! This isn’t even published yet! Ahh! I love the Umbrella Academy!” I hugged the issue and stared at the ceiling for a moment, as my Mom prodded the box.
“There’s more,” She said, and I unfolded the white tissue paper and looked at the small black box inside. I laid down the comic and opened it slowly to reveal what was inside. It was a necklace, a short one, with silver chains spiraling around in circles. Hooked onto the string was a circle, studded with six diamonds around the edges. Inside the circle hung a lavender teardrop that glittered in the light flickering through the shades over my window.
“Mom, it’s beautiful,” I gasped, holding it up to glitter in the air with a breathtaking beauty. It spun slightly, and my mother smiled.
“Here,” she said, taking hold of it and unclipping it to place the silver around my neck. I felt her fingers brush against the back of my neck, and then released; the necklace pressed against my skin like it was a tattoo; a part of me. My eyes closed and I fell back into my bed near my mom, who laid her head down near mine. Her fingers twirled in my hair, and the sensation rippled through my body.
“I love you, Claire,”
“I love you too Mom.”

The concert was amazing. With every drop of sweat, every grinding of the guitar, the songs grew more and more passionate and strong. My Mother and I jumped around like the kids we were; My Chemical Romance brought out the best in us. After crashing guitar riffs, beautiful, vocal-chord straining bridges, herioc drumming, and a steady bass line to hold it all together, my Mom and I could have passed for being zombies. Our movements were slow and clumsy, like drunken sailors. We slurred our words and our eyelashes held little anvils on them. There were few things that could revive me from this slumber...
We reached the car, and as my Mom patted her pockets for her keys, a lump of ice fell to my spine. She didn’t have her keys. They were probably somewhere near the stage.
“Mumzy,” I said, leaning against the car, “you know what we do in a situation like this?”
“Bang our heads against concrete?” I smiled slightly, but lifted a bony finger to a green building across the street. There: one of the few things that could wake me up.
“Get Starbucks.”
‘You’re a genius, Claire.” My mom said, and she wrapped me in a hug. “Let’s go. Maybe we’ll find some hotel around here and spend the night. But first and foremost: Starbucks.”
We reached the building, and I stared up into the bright lights of the sign, letting it soak in. It was bright, and bounced a reflection in my eyes, so I couldn’t concentrate on it for long. Instead, of focusing on the sign, my mother put her arm around my shoulders and we entered the small store to a soft droning of low conversations.
“‘Ello, ladies, and what can I get you?” Wide eyed, I stared at the menu. My mom ordered a plain, tall mocha, but I bit my cheek and looked it over. I was about to open my mouth to say ‘caramel mocha frappuccino,’ when somebody said quietly in my ear,
“Go for the raspberry frappuccino.” A smile spread across my face.
“And a tall raspberry mocha frappuccino, with little chocolate shavings on top.” I turned to see who the muse was, and my eyes widened. “Holy fudge,” was what I uttered, and Mikey Way grinned.
“Hi, I’m Mikey.” He said, eyes twinkling in the lights that hung above us.
“I’m Da- ah, Claire.” Even for me, forgetting my name was a stretch. “This is my Mom, Darcy,”
“Hallo, Mikey. Darcy, Darcy Jennings.” They shook hands, holding a friendly gaze. I couldn’t help but feel young; they were shaking hands, I was smiling and nodding.
“Hey, why raspberry?” I asked him, looking up into his hazel eyes. He definitely looked better back in the old days with glasses and spikes of hair sliding around his head. Definitely.
“I dunno, really...” He rubbed his head, fluffing his black hair. “I mean, you seemed like a raspberry kind of person. Kind of... Spunky. I mean, the shoes and the shirt helped me figure that out.” He blushed slightly, but I ignored it. My shirt was a shirt I made with my friends, one that had the definition of a “rebel” on it and an arrow pointing up. My shoes were white Airwalks, with scribbles from my friends on them. On the heel of both of them, it flatly said “SCREW YOU.”
I wrinkled my nose, debating whether I liked spunky or not.
“Hmm, spunky. Never really been told what drink to get based on my ‘spunkiness.’” We shared smiles, and then our drinks were called out. I retrieved mine from the round counter, and took a sip.
“See? I knew you’d like it.” I must’ve been making that face, that “I just fell in love” face.
“Hah, yeah. Thanks for matching me up.” My mom took her mocha, and we met up and stood next to each other for a moment. “Hey, you know what’s good with raspberries? Ice cream. Ice cream and chocolate sauce.” My mom smiled at me.
“So thats where the fresh raspberries went.” I blushed slightly and tipped my gaze down, but to save me, Mikey proposed an offer.
“Why don’t you guys come sit with me and my brother, Gerard? We’re just hanging out, in the back at some tables outside.” I looked at my mom like if she would say yes, I would win a million dollars.
“Sure, why not?”

It was pretty at the tables in back. White and forest green lights hung draped across the wall of the Starbucks and around the railing of the fence that trailed around the deck. Gerard sat casually, feet up on another chair as he sipped a white liquid from his Starbucks cup. I was walking with my mother, and she and I shared smiles for a moment.
“Mom!” I suddenly whispered, clasping a hand on my backside. “These are the pants I made a while back!” She didn’t comprehend, and I wrinkled my nose. “The pants that have a certain design on my be-hind,” I said, pronouncing the syllables clearly. A smile widened on her face, and she laughed quietly.
“It’ll be fine,” Gerard hoped up as he saw Mikey had company.
“Alo,” He said, as if a simple “hi” or “hello” was too bland for the almighty Gerard Way. He stood up, and before I registered what was happening, he hugged me and my mom swiftly. I think I said hello, and said my name, but I wasn’t sure. I was kind of dazed.
“What did you get?” We were sitting, and I was sipping my drink slowly, savoring it.
“Raspberry mocha frappuccino.” I responded, taking one more gulp of heaven and then sitting back in the metal, wired chair.
“Good choice... Kind of fits you.”
“And so does your cookie ice-cream whatever they call it.” I said, leaning over and looking at the white froth.
“Try it,” He said, and I smiled slightly, then sipped from his straw. I took a moment to asess the taste.
“Sweet, but it doesn’t block out the flavor of the actual coffee. It’s not one of those ones that people love because they’re new, and anyone could like them, but it has something along with it that makes it so much better: the coffee taste. I have to say, your drink has an amazing personality.” He smiled brightly and twirled his straw. “Here,” I said, “try mine.” I slid my drink over, and he took a delicate sip.
“Hmm, raspberry. There’s something about raspberry, probably because its a fruit, that makes it more healthy-sounding, and making it sound better. Makes it seem like the right thing to choose. The chocolate on top is just a coating that makes it look more like one of those drinks that taste like candy, the worthess ones with no coffee, like the ones just like a bunch of others, but underneath the chocolate and whip cream you’ve got the raspberry mocha taste. I think, overall, your drink has a great personality.” I wanted to say something like, “you’re amazing, Gerard,” but the thought slipped my mind as I smiled.
“You know what would be good,” My Mom said, pointing at my drink and then to his, “is if you mixed them.” I had about half of mine left, and I looked over at Gerard.
“Hey, why not?” He said, and I laughed and pried off my lid as he did the same with his. I lifted mine, and then turned it and watched as the brown liquid slid slowly off the plastic, dripping into his. It mixed naturally and slowly, and I stuck in my straw to disrupt the progress and then I spun it in circles until the mutant drink was a light, beige color.
“Would you do he honors?” I asked, and he stuck in his straw and spun it in circles.
“We’ll do it at the same time,” He proposed, and I nodded, the smile still catching my lips. We both leaned forward, placed the straws in our mouths, and tasted the liquid. I felt his cheek brush mine, an electric tingle that sent shockwaves down my neck. As we leaned back, both smiling, we said in unison:
“Raspberries and ice cream tastes amazing.”

I guess we just fit together that way.



Ok, so it turned out that was all “CLAIRE.” The next chapter will have Dani in it, don’t worry.
Now, guys, I’m sorry for not updating in a while... And I probably don’t deserve it, but this is what keeps me going...
R E V I E W S ?