New fic!
Title: Transitions
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Word Count: 2,201
Category: Fluff
Summary: Transitions aren't easy. When Bob joins My Chemical Romance, there are a few things he needs to adjust to.
Dedicated to: my beloved helena_lee, as a birthday gift, for being the most important person in my life, on and offline. And to whisperingtome, for being the loveliest beta ever and a huge help. Thanks again, Lucy!
Transitions
Bob Bryar didn't find joining My Chemical Romance as easy as he had thought it would be.
Surely, these boys were quite four of a kind: unique and priceless. The time and energy they dedicated to that band of theirs could be seen shining directly through their eyes every time they had an interview or were about to “go on stage in five seconds”. They were talented and in love with what they did and with each other, and Bob could only observe all of this from his position as an outsider. It was similar to the guy that sits in his armchair to watch the football game, he thought: he never takes his eyes away from the TV screen; he shouts as if he was there in the stadium, his body sways from one side to the other as if he could follow the players' moves, but that was all he could do. Watch. And just watching was somewhat heartbreaking to Bob.
It was quite a simple decision for Bob when they asked him to fill the now vacant spot as the drummer and become a member of the band. Was it really a choice, between staying and trying to construct a serious career as a sound tech or pursuing the dream of becoming a member of a rock band? Better yet, becoming a member of the rock band he had been predicting (and wishing) to reach the sky anytime now?
It took Bob a couple of calls and ten minutes to pack, and he was on his way to the initiation ritual. It couldn't really be that hard, right? He knew those guys. He liked those guys. They had given him a chance and he would grasp it as hard as he could, he would step inside the rehearsal studio and already feel at home, certainly. That was how it was meant to be.
Or maybe not so much, because the instant he walked inside the studio, the other four didn't really notice him. They were gathered around each other, Frank sitting on a box, holding Gerard's hand while the latter had his arms around his younger brother's waist while Mikey patted Ray on the shoulder; all whispers and mumbles. Looked like some kind of religious ceremony, and Bob smiled and sighed. You just couldn't fake a familiarity like that, nor earn it overnight.
Bob coughed to make himself noticed and they all turned at once, wide grins rapidly spreading on their lips. Bob took a deep breath. It was uncannily similar to meeting your girlfriend's folks. All he wanted was to be accepted and feel comfortable.
Gerard was the first to come and greet him, followed by Mikey, who wrapped Bob in a tight hug while his brother asked “the new guy” how his flight was. Bob hoarsely answered that it was “shitty as usual” and they all laughed. Then, there was a thirty-second-long awkward silence (where Bob unconsciously held his breath), broken by Frank's caring voice.
“We're really happy you're here, Bryar.”
That was how Bob remembered his first day, and the memory was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened minutes before. The first lesson on how difficult transitions could be and, boy, he had no idea. Fitting in, musically, was somewhat a battle, Bob's drumming style being a little different to Matt's. The fans, also, weren't that easy to please, being accustomed to the band formation they had seen being born - Bob had to work his way in and conquer them, and though it took him almost no time, it wasn't exactly an easy task. However, these problems were nowhere near as tough as becoming the fifth, instead of the new one.
On Bob’s second week of touring with them, Frank complained about missing home. The topic of homesickness was brought to the table, and they listed all the reasons why they loved Jersey while they hadn‘t been able to wait until they got out of there when they were younger. All the cool places, the teenage stories, the liquor store that would sell beer to the underage, all the wheres and whens that Bob had never shared. Eventually, they smiled at him and he recalls someone saying “we should totally take Bob to see that!” (to which everybody else excitedly agreed), and while that was very kind and sweet, it only contributed to the drummer feeling more like the odd-man-out.
On the first month, Bob had learned all the little things that consisted of living with the boys in the band. Mikey would be a zombie in the mornings, before his wake-up coffee, so if you talked to him, the chances you'd get no response besides a baffled angry “mrhmm” were pretty high. Ray would sit everyday at 9am, put his headphones on and study his guitar for about 120 minutes straight before asking what's for lunch, so there was no use fighting his headphones for attention -you'd lose. Frank had this little special spot on the bus' couch, where he would, every now and then - whenever he was bored, actually - lie with his arms wrapped behind his head to watch creepy cartoons. You wouldn't want to mess with that either. And Gerard? Gerard was dead jealous of his sketchpad, his art supplies and his personal coffee mug, thanks very much. Touching any of his stuff would cause terrible loss of limbs - oh, Bob had learned this one the hard way one morning he got up before everyone and went to make himself some coffee and made the mistake of picking the first mug he laid hands on.
During this period, what surprised Bob the most was how intimate these boys were. Not that he hadn't heard of it before, and not that they didn't show it in front of other people, but now he could see they were really a family, a very close family. Like Mikey would jump on the couch and throw his long legs on your lap and start chatting with you, completely out of the blue. Or Gerard would come, mess up your hair a little, wink, mumble “looking good!” and walk away. Or Ray would pull you into a bear hug whenever he felt the occasion asked for it. Or Frank would call you “little fucker”, “cutie”, “fuckface” and “sexy bastard”, all with the same grin on his lips. As time went by, he was feeling more and more welcomed, more and more accepted, more and more used to the flaws, the virtues, the good and the bad side of each and every member of the band, and it made him feel almost like family too.
Except for one tiny little detail: the special relationship between Frank and Gerard.
It wasn't a secret. Hell, everyone that was considered a member of the band's circle of friends had suspected this (he was pretty sure he heard Jepha once saying something about a bet), but it was different now he was an insider. In everyday life, Gerard wouldn't tease Frank by whispering hoarsely in his ear while obscenely touching his chest with greedy hands, and the guitarist wouldn't give the lead singer's cheek a sloppy and quick kiss in front of hundreds of crazed and amused teenagers. In everyday life, there would be discretion, silence and sideway glances; there would be cuddling on the couch and stolen kisses when no one was looking - or pretending not to. However, they felt embarrassed in front of Bob and he could see it. And he understood, yes, these things were slowly built, it took time and trust, but it still hurt him that after that reasonable time together, Frank would still unwrap his arms that were once around Gerard's waist and smile awkwardly at Bob. He wanted to say he was OK with it, that he could be trusted, fuck, he was happy for them. He even envied them, because they were obviously more in love with each other than Bob had ever been with one of his girlfriends. But that was a conversation he still didn't even know how to start.
That night, they were all feeling pretty tired and drowsy after playing for the fourth time in a freaking week, and after five hours of interviews and photo shoots, and he was very sure that it was the sleeplessness and the stress that had motivated Frank to reply in a not-so-kind manner to a frivolous question Gerard had asked him and, the next thing Bob knew, they were yelling at each other, and a bathroom door had slammed and Gerard was storming out of the bus, Ray and Mikey looking quite astonished at one another. Bob didn't really know what possessed him to stand up and say “I'll go get him”, but by the time he’d realized what he was doing, he was outside, walking towards Gerard, who was sitting in the middle of the parking lot, a cigarette in his mouth.
“Hey.”
“Hey”, Gerard mumbled, still looking at his crossed legs.
“So, what happened in there?”
“I don't know. He was just stressed out. I kinda understand, I've had it for today too.”
“Yeah. It was a long day. I swear, if I have another camera taking pictures of me with fake blood on my face, I'll fucking explode.”
“Exactly,” Gerard chuckled.
“So, just leave him alone for a moment. It happens. He's probably going to come and apologize in no time, it's no big deal.” Bob whispered, patting his friend's shoulder lightly. “I never saw you guys have a fight that lasted more than half an hour. I bet you only do it for the make up sex.”
Gerard turned and eyed him surprised.
“Oh, come on, everyone knows it's the best part of fighting, right?” Bob winked. Gerard grinned.
“Yeah. Wild and rough. Who isn't into that, once in a while?”
They shared pure, honest laughter. Then, silence fell and Bob decided this was the time to say something about what had been bugging him for so long. He took a deep breath, choosing carefully the words he would use, but Gerard beat him to it.
“I'm sorry, Bob. We don't mean to do it on purpose.”
“What?” He asked, a little taken aback at the forwardness of it.
“Shut you out. I mean, I know you notice Frank and I change a little when you're around. It's not on purpose. It's just... the way we are, you know? On stage it's just an act, but when it comes to us, the real us, we don't like to rub it in people's faces. We don't need that, of course. It's just us, you know. I mean...”
“I know what you mean.” Bob replied quickly, and he realized it sounded a little bitter, after it left his lips. Gerard sighed and looked away. “It's just... I feel untrustworthy. Mikey and Ray don't have a problem with it. And neither do I. Still, you act differently with me around, and I feel I'm the odd-man-out.”
Gerard turned to look at Bob, eyes wide open.
“Dude, that's not it at all. It's something Frank and I still need to work out, but that doesn't mean... Bob, you're family. I know it must be hard to jump in, after everyone else is pretty settled, and it was a change for us too, but no, dude. You're not the other guy. You're one of us, ok? You're part of it.”
Bob gave a small smile and Gerard threw his arms around him, reassuringly. It was silly, but that was pretty much all he wanted to hear.
“We love you, Bob. We really do.”
“Oh, don't get all mushy on me, fucker.” Bob chuckled, accepting Gerard's embrace. He looked up and spotted Frank with his arms crossed, looking at them from the bus door like a little boy that had just broken his mother's favorite flower pot.
“Someone's shown up to apologize.” He poked Gerard in the ribs and pointed. “Let's go back, my ass is freezing out here.”
They both walked back to the bus, and when Gerard got to Frank, he immediately suffocated the boy's words of apology with a deep, sweet kiss. Bob smiled and walked past them, climbing inside the bus. He saw Mikey sitting on a couch and, the moment their eyes met, Mikey grinned and patted the seat next to him.
“Come on.”
He sat on the couch and Mikey threw his legs over the drummer's lap.
“What are you watching?” Bob asked.
“Nothing really. I just like to fall asleep to the sound of the TV.”
Yes, he had picked that up on day twelve.
“I figured.”
Mikey glanced at Bob and chuckled, cupping his hands under his head and giving the TV his full attention. Bob sighed. For the first time, since the day he had arrived, he really felt like part of the gang.
Truth is, it wasn't really about being in a band, was it? It was more about making friends for a lifetime. It was more about becoming brothers in arms. And once accomplished, the experience was truly rewarding.
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Word Count: 2,201
Category: Fluff
Summary: Transitions aren't easy. When Bob joins My Chemical Romance, there are a few things he needs to adjust to.
Dedicated to: my beloved helena_lee, as a birthday gift, for being the most important person in my life, on and offline. And to whisperingtome, for being the loveliest beta ever and a huge help. Thanks again, Lucy!
Transitions
Bob Bryar didn't find joining My Chemical Romance as easy as he had thought it would be.
Surely, these boys were quite four of a kind: unique and priceless. The time and energy they dedicated to that band of theirs could be seen shining directly through their eyes every time they had an interview or were about to “go on stage in five seconds”. They were talented and in love with what they did and with each other, and Bob could only observe all of this from his position as an outsider. It was similar to the guy that sits in his armchair to watch the football game, he thought: he never takes his eyes away from the TV screen; he shouts as if he was there in the stadium, his body sways from one side to the other as if he could follow the players' moves, but that was all he could do. Watch. And just watching was somewhat heartbreaking to Bob.
It was quite a simple decision for Bob when they asked him to fill the now vacant spot as the drummer and become a member of the band. Was it really a choice, between staying and trying to construct a serious career as a sound tech or pursuing the dream of becoming a member of a rock band? Better yet, becoming a member of the rock band he had been predicting (and wishing) to reach the sky anytime now?
It took Bob a couple of calls and ten minutes to pack, and he was on his way to the initiation ritual. It couldn't really be that hard, right? He knew those guys. He liked those guys. They had given him a chance and he would grasp it as hard as he could, he would step inside the rehearsal studio and already feel at home, certainly. That was how it was meant to be.
Or maybe not so much, because the instant he walked inside the studio, the other four didn't really notice him. They were gathered around each other, Frank sitting on a box, holding Gerard's hand while the latter had his arms around his younger brother's waist while Mikey patted Ray on the shoulder; all whispers and mumbles. Looked like some kind of religious ceremony, and Bob smiled and sighed. You just couldn't fake a familiarity like that, nor earn it overnight.
Bob coughed to make himself noticed and they all turned at once, wide grins rapidly spreading on their lips. Bob took a deep breath. It was uncannily similar to meeting your girlfriend's folks. All he wanted was to be accepted and feel comfortable.
Gerard was the first to come and greet him, followed by Mikey, who wrapped Bob in a tight hug while his brother asked “the new guy” how his flight was. Bob hoarsely answered that it was “shitty as usual” and they all laughed. Then, there was a thirty-second-long awkward silence (where Bob unconsciously held his breath), broken by Frank's caring voice.
“We're really happy you're here, Bryar.”
That was how Bob remembered his first day, and the memory was as fresh in his mind as if it had happened minutes before. The first lesson on how difficult transitions could be and, boy, he had no idea. Fitting in, musically, was somewhat a battle, Bob's drumming style being a little different to Matt's. The fans, also, weren't that easy to please, being accustomed to the band formation they had seen being born - Bob had to work his way in and conquer them, and though it took him almost no time, it wasn't exactly an easy task. However, these problems were nowhere near as tough as becoming the fifth, instead of the new one.
On Bob’s second week of touring with them, Frank complained about missing home. The topic of homesickness was brought to the table, and they listed all the reasons why they loved Jersey while they hadn‘t been able to wait until they got out of there when they were younger. All the cool places, the teenage stories, the liquor store that would sell beer to the underage, all the wheres and whens that Bob had never shared. Eventually, they smiled at him and he recalls someone saying “we should totally take Bob to see that!” (to which everybody else excitedly agreed), and while that was very kind and sweet, it only contributed to the drummer feeling more like the odd-man-out.
On the first month, Bob had learned all the little things that consisted of living with the boys in the band. Mikey would be a zombie in the mornings, before his wake-up coffee, so if you talked to him, the chances you'd get no response besides a baffled angry “mrhmm” were pretty high. Ray would sit everyday at 9am, put his headphones on and study his guitar for about 120 minutes straight before asking what's for lunch, so there was no use fighting his headphones for attention -you'd lose. Frank had this little special spot on the bus' couch, where he would, every now and then - whenever he was bored, actually - lie with his arms wrapped behind his head to watch creepy cartoons. You wouldn't want to mess with that either. And Gerard? Gerard was dead jealous of his sketchpad, his art supplies and his personal coffee mug, thanks very much. Touching any of his stuff would cause terrible loss of limbs - oh, Bob had learned this one the hard way one morning he got up before everyone and went to make himself some coffee and made the mistake of picking the first mug he laid hands on.
During this period, what surprised Bob the most was how intimate these boys were. Not that he hadn't heard of it before, and not that they didn't show it in front of other people, but now he could see they were really a family, a very close family. Like Mikey would jump on the couch and throw his long legs on your lap and start chatting with you, completely out of the blue. Or Gerard would come, mess up your hair a little, wink, mumble “looking good!” and walk away. Or Ray would pull you into a bear hug whenever he felt the occasion asked for it. Or Frank would call you “little fucker”, “cutie”, “fuckface” and “sexy bastard”, all with the same grin on his lips. As time went by, he was feeling more and more welcomed, more and more accepted, more and more used to the flaws, the virtues, the good and the bad side of each and every member of the band, and it made him feel almost like family too.
Except for one tiny little detail: the special relationship between Frank and Gerard.
It wasn't a secret. Hell, everyone that was considered a member of the band's circle of friends had suspected this (he was pretty sure he heard Jepha once saying something about a bet), but it was different now he was an insider. In everyday life, Gerard wouldn't tease Frank by whispering hoarsely in his ear while obscenely touching his chest with greedy hands, and the guitarist wouldn't give the lead singer's cheek a sloppy and quick kiss in front of hundreds of crazed and amused teenagers. In everyday life, there would be discretion, silence and sideway glances; there would be cuddling on the couch and stolen kisses when no one was looking - or pretending not to. However, they felt embarrassed in front of Bob and he could see it. And he understood, yes, these things were slowly built, it took time and trust, but it still hurt him that after that reasonable time together, Frank would still unwrap his arms that were once around Gerard's waist and smile awkwardly at Bob. He wanted to say he was OK with it, that he could be trusted, fuck, he was happy for them. He even envied them, because they were obviously more in love with each other than Bob had ever been with one of his girlfriends. But that was a conversation he still didn't even know how to start.
That night, they were all feeling pretty tired and drowsy after playing for the fourth time in a freaking week, and after five hours of interviews and photo shoots, and he was very sure that it was the sleeplessness and the stress that had motivated Frank to reply in a not-so-kind manner to a frivolous question Gerard had asked him and, the next thing Bob knew, they were yelling at each other, and a bathroom door had slammed and Gerard was storming out of the bus, Ray and Mikey looking quite astonished at one another. Bob didn't really know what possessed him to stand up and say “I'll go get him”, but by the time he’d realized what he was doing, he was outside, walking towards Gerard, who was sitting in the middle of the parking lot, a cigarette in his mouth.
“Hey.”
“Hey”, Gerard mumbled, still looking at his crossed legs.
“So, what happened in there?”
“I don't know. He was just stressed out. I kinda understand, I've had it for today too.”
“Yeah. It was a long day. I swear, if I have another camera taking pictures of me with fake blood on my face, I'll fucking explode.”
“Exactly,” Gerard chuckled.
“So, just leave him alone for a moment. It happens. He's probably going to come and apologize in no time, it's no big deal.” Bob whispered, patting his friend's shoulder lightly. “I never saw you guys have a fight that lasted more than half an hour. I bet you only do it for the make up sex.”
Gerard turned and eyed him surprised.
“Oh, come on, everyone knows it's the best part of fighting, right?” Bob winked. Gerard grinned.
“Yeah. Wild and rough. Who isn't into that, once in a while?”
They shared pure, honest laughter. Then, silence fell and Bob decided this was the time to say something about what had been bugging him for so long. He took a deep breath, choosing carefully the words he would use, but Gerard beat him to it.
“I'm sorry, Bob. We don't mean to do it on purpose.”
“What?” He asked, a little taken aback at the forwardness of it.
“Shut you out. I mean, I know you notice Frank and I change a little when you're around. It's not on purpose. It's just... the way we are, you know? On stage it's just an act, but when it comes to us, the real us, we don't like to rub it in people's faces. We don't need that, of course. It's just us, you know. I mean...”
“I know what you mean.” Bob replied quickly, and he realized it sounded a little bitter, after it left his lips. Gerard sighed and looked away. “It's just... I feel untrustworthy. Mikey and Ray don't have a problem with it. And neither do I. Still, you act differently with me around, and I feel I'm the odd-man-out.”
Gerard turned to look at Bob, eyes wide open.
“Dude, that's not it at all. It's something Frank and I still need to work out, but that doesn't mean... Bob, you're family. I know it must be hard to jump in, after everyone else is pretty settled, and it was a change for us too, but no, dude. You're not the other guy. You're one of us, ok? You're part of it.”
Bob gave a small smile and Gerard threw his arms around him, reassuringly. It was silly, but that was pretty much all he wanted to hear.
“We love you, Bob. We really do.”
“Oh, don't get all mushy on me, fucker.” Bob chuckled, accepting Gerard's embrace. He looked up and spotted Frank with his arms crossed, looking at them from the bus door like a little boy that had just broken his mother's favorite flower pot.
“Someone's shown up to apologize.” He poked Gerard in the ribs and pointed. “Let's go back, my ass is freezing out here.”
They both walked back to the bus, and when Gerard got to Frank, he immediately suffocated the boy's words of apology with a deep, sweet kiss. Bob smiled and walked past them, climbing inside the bus. He saw Mikey sitting on a couch and, the moment their eyes met, Mikey grinned and patted the seat next to him.
“Come on.”
He sat on the couch and Mikey threw his legs over the drummer's lap.
“What are you watching?” Bob asked.
“Nothing really. I just like to fall asleep to the sound of the TV.”
Yes, he had picked that up on day twelve.
“I figured.”
Mikey glanced at Bob and chuckled, cupping his hands under his head and giving the TV his full attention. Bob sighed. For the first time, since the day he had arrived, he really felt like part of the gang.
Truth is, it wasn't really about being in a band, was it? It was more about making friends for a lifetime. It was more about becoming brothers in arms. And once accomplished, the experience was truly rewarding.