Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Everyone shakes to the beat with a barrel down their throats.

Chapter Two - Disappointed faces of your peers.

by padfoot_001 1 review

Drinking with friends is fun ... that is until you have to go home and try and unlock the wrong door with the wrong key.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2008-04-20 - Updated: 2008-04-21 - 1934 words

WARNINGS: Alcohol abuse, drugs, self harm, suicide.

Chapter Two

It had been a while since Gerard had drunk, so it was no surprise that he got drunk so quickly. Four bourbon and cokes was pretty pathetic, he usually wouldn't have gotten this smashed ... but then there was the beer. Now how much of that had he actually had? He remembered having one ... just one ... maybe two?

"Anymore beer?" he asked as he finished what was left in the bottle already in his hand.

"I think you've cleaned us out," Bert muttered, almost incoherently, from his place on the floor. He was sitting on his side as though he was posing for a naked artwork and smoking his cigarette much the same. This made Gerard piss himself laughing and before he knew it he had joined his friend on the ground.

"Guess I'm sitting here now," he laughed as he realised he had fallen to the floor.

"Oh man I've missed this fucking shit," Bert sighed as he grabbed Gerard and kissed the top of his messy head of hair.

Gerard let out another laugh and then suddenly realised he felt very drowsy. In fact, he couldn't even remember the time, or how to find out what it was and he was sure that Mikey and the others were expecting him back a while ago.

"Woah, where you going Gee-gee?" Bert asked making his stoned drummer laugh. The two of them repeated the name as Gerard realised that he was on his feet and they were very unstable.

"I think I got a bit drunk," he said quite surprised and loosing his smile slightly as the walls of the tour van he was clinging onto didn't seem to stay still.

"Drunk on weed and booze my man, but we won’t tell anyone," Bert snorted into some other guy’s chest as he lay cuddling him on the grass. Gerard didn't even remember seeing this newcomer arrive and that more then anything made him realise that perhaps he should head back.

"Where's the sun?" he asked looking around and realising it was darker then he last remembered. He laughed as some brain cells moved around in his head and he realised that he must have drunk until night.

"You're fucked man," Bert's new friend snickered as Gerard took a few steps, stumbled slightly and slammed his head into the side of the strange van as he tried to steady himself. Holding his head in where he assumed he hit it he laughed drunkenly along with the others.

"Where you going?" Bert asked, closing his eyes as the pot seemed to make him sleepier.

"I need to find reception to call my brother and tell him I'm on my way home," Gerard explained trying to pull his phone out of his tight jeans.

"You're making all kinds of no fucking sense," Bert and his stoned friend snorted into their drinks. Bert’s smile seemed to fade as his head lolled back and he started snoring.

Still holding his head and now laughing at Bert, Gerard excused himself with a "Good fucking night," and tried to find his way to his home. Tour Van ... he reminded himself as he shook his head in an attempt to clear the drink clouding his mind ... they were on tour not at home.

Drinking on tour was always very disorientating, especially when you were on your own. There was always hundreds of other bands wondering around, bumping past you, all thinking they're the king of shit. Gerard loved it, he really did, but being this drunk and not having Frank by his side like he used to back in the day, he realised that tour could be quite a scary place.

Gerard felt his stomach jump up into his throat as he shook his head and the effort to keep it down and stable himself caused him to land face first in the grass. He laughed and groaned as he tried and failed to lift himself up.

"You alright man?" a member of some band that Gerard recognised but couldn't put a name to asked him. The familiar stranger was holding a drink of his own in one hand, but seemed to be doing a lot better then Gerard felt himself doing.

"I'm fucking fine ... just trying to find my brother," he slurred as he accepted the strangers attempts to help him get to his feet again. Gerard helped best he could but after he realised he was only making it worse he stopped and let the newcomer lift him to his feet on his own.

"You know where he is? You know where you're going? Want some help finding him?"

Sooo many questions, but Gerard realised it was because he wasn't answering any of them, he couldn't quite find the right words. He was on his feet and was very unstable and felt rather a little off balance. His head was spinning and he couldn't quite focus on whoever had just spoken to him. He clung onto the shirt of whoever was standing on his left and threw up on the ground near his feet. His body fell forwards ready to collapse in his own spew and continue to do just that, but strong hands held him up and he stayed gripped to the person's shirt as he was sick once again.

"I think it's the singer from My Chemical Romance," he heard someone behind him say. He was gathering quite a crowd now.

"Yeah, it is man," this time it was the voice of the man he was holding onto. He could tell because he was starting to gain some vision and some sense back now and his whole head lit up with the voice as it was so much closer then the others.

"You alright? Just keep throwing up if you need to ... here is good," the person he was holding onto laughed and patted him reassuringly on the back.

Gerard finally found a voice, but it was weak and he was aware that he was shaking now. "No thanks ... I'm about done."

He righted himself up aware of how much clearer things were. Blurry for sure, because he knew he was still very drunk, but moments ago he couldn't even see two feet in front of him, disorientation still threatened to over take him, but with company all around he had something to focus on.

"Come on we'll take you to your bus," the first voice, the one that had helped him to his feet spoke now and Gerard muttered his thanks as he was led off. He realised that there was about six people all around him now and he felt strangely out of place, but better now that he had somebody to help him.

He was starting to recognise things, they were getting closer to where they had parked now, he remembered and Gerard felt that it was probably because he was sobering up. "This will do," he quickly said, stopping his feet and causing everyone else to stop to. "I'll make it from here."

He fought back the urge to be sick again as he tried to act as sober as he could, but to no avail. No one was holding onto him anymore and for a moment he thought he was standing on his own, then he realised that he was actually leaning against a large man with a Clandestine Industries t-shirt on and was in fact not even supporting himself properly.

"We'll help you in man, you're completely fucked," the guy with the shirt said. Gerard felt sick and slightly anxious now. He couldn't let the band see him like this, he had let them down, all of them, he was drunk again, just like old times. But he couldn't stop it now and before he knew it he was standing by the door, his arms around two shoulders, one on either side. They knocked and he heard a commotion inside as someone fiddled with the handle.

"That better be you Gerard," he heard Bob's voice call from the opposite side of the tour door and as it swung open Gerard’s eyes were suddenly flooded with light.

"Surprise," Gerard giggled as he squinted at the towering figure of Bob.

"Gerard?" Bob questioned as his eyes seemed to take in the singer and the fact that he had two people holding him up. "What happened? You Okay?"

"No," Gerard admitted as he felt his stomach rise again, he struggled to keep it down and heard it churn unhappily. "I'm completely fucked."

The people closest to him laughed at this statement as Gerard had said it exactly the way their own band member had. He felt a fleeting moment of victory at his fantastic joke and how he managed to make everyone laugh, but this was short lived as his stomach gave another horrible turn and somehow he found strength enough to pull away from his rescuers and stumble to their bus' bathroom where he immediately fell to the floor and threw up in the toilet.

"Shit Gee, you okay?" Mikey said concerned as he approached the bathroom. Now that Gerard felt slightly better again he realised that he had in fact pushed straight past them all watching the TV to make it to the toilet, he hadn't even realised.

"Whys everyone always asking me that tonight?" he slurred into the toilet as a drunken smile played across his lips.

"You drunk?" Frank asked from just behind Mikey. It was quite obvious he was, but the question had just been asked and everyone was looking equally surprised.

"Ummm ... little bit," he admitted as he grabbed hold of the sink to help himself up. Weariness was now taking over and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he could see his face disappearing and reappearing as his eyes struggled to remain open. He only had to make it to his bunk now and he would be fine.

His band mates and best friends stood at the bathroom door all looking either completely confused or a little surprised, whispering to themselves, not loud enough for him to hear. Gerard knew it was because they probably honestly thought they would never see him like this again, but still, it didn't give them the right to just look at him like that.

"I think it's bed time," Gerard announced, frowning slightly as he realised he wasn't sure he could make it to his bed. Trying his best to walk past everyone in a straight line only ended in failure as he bumped his side on the stupid towel rack and then ran into Ray, Bob, Mikey and Frank even though they gave him plenty of room. They all put out helping hands to steady him but he just snorted a half-assed laugh and crashed into the first bed he came across. He wasn't even sure if it was his, but it was the most comfortable thing he had felt all night and it didn't take long at all before everything faded into peaceful blackness.


AN: Ermmm, firstly, sorry if some of the spelling is different or the language is a little slanged, ha ha. I'm from Australia and we tend to have our own language.

Eski* Because I just realised you probably don't know what that is, a portable fridge thing for drinks. I dunno what everyone else calls it, ice box maybe? Anyway, let me know what you think and if you like it. Will update soon.

xx Padfoot xx
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