Fighting for the End -Chapter Four-
Chapter Four
-
Sweet dreams are made of these.
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas.
Everybody's looking for something.
Some of them want to use you.
Some of them want to get used by you.
Some of them want to abuse you.
Some of them want to be abused.
---Marilyn Manson, Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
__
I woke up with a start.
Trying to muffle a scream without complete success, I finally gave up on my hope of sleeping a full night through.
Wiping my tears, I looked outside and found it still dark. Thinking about it for only a couple of seconds, I realised that I hadn’t expected anything better.
I sat up, pulling the covers off of me. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, removing all traces of my sleep, and then stood up. I stood there, seeing stars in my vision, and remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything.
After making sure that the dizziness had passed, I went to my bag and grabbed my sketch pad and my watch. I began my walk back to the couch, peeking into the black bunk room on the way there. I heard deep, even breathing, and slightly envied their full sleeps.
The moonlight was peering into the room by a small window that wasn’t curtained. It spilled the silver light on Frank Iero, and I could make out his features perfectly.
His longer brown hair was in his face. I was pleased that he had grown out his hair again. I liked the fringe, but with the all-over long hair, he just looked...better. Haven had teased me about that, and I blushed at the words that Haven had said with a smile.
Okay, so I had had a small little crush on the rhythm guitarist. In a way, he reminded me of Haven in his appearance, which is why Haven had teased me. They had the same shade of brown hair when it wasn’t dyed, their face shapes were the same, and even their...their lips were similar.
I looked towards Gerard, not seeing him in the little cove that he had on the bottom.
This was going to be a little difficult, having a Haven-in-looks with Frank Anthony Iero and a Haven-in-personality with Gerard Arthur Way.
I almost didn’t know what to think about it.
I tore my eyes away from the sleeping band and headed back to the little makeshift bed I had. Flipping on the overhead light, I sat down and opened my pad to a new sheet. I stared at it and stared at it, nothing coming into my mind.
I glanced at the watch that was laying beside me. It read 4:39 in the morning. I almost sighed.
"Can’t sleep?" came a dull voice, and I jumped, my charcoal stick flying.
Mikey Way laughed, picking it up. He gave it to me and I thanked him, not keeping eye contact for very long.
"No. I don’t really sleep. You scared the shit out of me," I said to him, and he grinned when I looked up at him. He had his glasses on at the moment, which was comforting, considering Mikey wasn’t Mikey without the sandy blonde hair or the black-rimmed glasses.
"Sorry," he said, sounding more like he was up to no good than sincere. I couldn’t help but think that this is not how I somehow expected Mikey to be.
"Amazingly authentic, dude, remind me to laugh later," I told him, and his grin widened.
"May I sit down?" he asked, and I nodded quickly, closing my sketch pad.
"So," he said, having a seat and giving me plenty of room that I was thankful form. "No one sees the art, huh?"
I shook my head, putting the book on the other side of me. He watched me do this and I saw his eyes widen at my pearly white scars.
"So that’s true then?"
I knew what he was talking about. I held my forearm out and looked at the knotted tissue for a moment, and thought about the awkward silence.
Finally, Mikey said, "Gerard almost killed himself. Once. Not with a knife or razor blade or whatever, but with painkillers and a lot of alcohol. All over a girl. Somehow, I don’t see your situations as the same. Yours was pretty bad, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen cuts that bad before."
I was silent. I couldn’t answer that question. At least, I wouldn’t.
"Well, the guys have to be awake at 5:30, so it’ll be funny watching that. Wanna wake Gee up sooner?" The tension was gone, and I couldn’t help but smile at Mikey Way’s enthusiasm on tormenting his brother.
"How can we accomplish that, Agent Way?" I asked, and he grinned. "I like that. That’s fucking amazing. You can be Agent Anderson. Ha-ha."
We laughed. Eventually, he answered my question with six words: "Put on a pot of coffee!"
I tried hard to muffle my laughter, which was coming out without permission now. I couldn’t stop it to save my life.
I nodded, gasping for air while my knuckles were in my mouth. Mikey grinned and said, "Sounds like another amazing plan from the Agents of the MCR tour bus!"
We high-fived each other and he told me to get showered before we committed our evil diabolical plan, and I agreed, digging in my bag and getting a faded, holy pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The shirt was my favourite that I owned; it was black with yellow writing proclaiming ‘SYSTEM OF A DOWN’ and a blood splatter on it. It was tight, and with the tight faded blue jeans, a black studded belt and my worn Chuck Taylors on, I would look halfway decent. More than halfway decent really. It was Haven’s absolute favourite outfit on me.
Besides. While I was sticking around with the band, I had to look like I belonged here. Sure, I wouldn’t be any less miserable, but I still needed to fit in a little bit.
So after my quick shower in the bathroom the size of a bread crumb, I dressed, dried my long black hair, and did my makeup. I stared at my eyes as I did my eyeliner; my vibrant, emerald green eyes were brighter than usual, and filled with a mischievous fire.
With the thick black eyeliner, my cream white complexion, and my soft pink lips, I had to admit that I was looking...lovely.
I kept my hair down, and ran my thin fingers through my mass of baby fine black strands. I then put on some sleeves that were black and yellow striped, for I had to hide my scars because the T-shirt was short-sleeved. I took a deep breath, grabbed all my junk, and left the bathroom.
I came up behind Mikey after only being gone for about fifteen minutes, and said, "Boo!"
He snapped to me, dropping the bag of Starbucks coffee grounds, and let out a little gasp.
"Fuck!" he choked after realising that it was only me. I saw his eyes widen at my face, but thankfully, he just bent down and picked up the bag of coffee grounds and proceeded on making the coffee.
Soon, the arouma of the liquid was filling the bus, and I heard a loud bang from in the bunk room. "SHIT!" yelled Gerard, which proceeded on waking the others up from their dreams and making them swear to some things I hadn’t even heard of before.
Mikey and I looked at each other for about two seconds before cracking up with laughter. "MIKEY! YOU FUCKING DICK!" yelled Gerard, and this made us laugh harder.
Gerard showed up, his hair in every direction possible and a very angry expression on his face. His fists were clenched and I figured he was going to kick Mikey’s arse.
That is, until he saw me.
He stopped mid-stride, his eyes wide and his breathing stopping. He stood there for a minute, staring at me and making me embarrassed, until Frank Iero decided to run into him and knock Gerard’s concentration off.
"Mikey, you little fuck! What kind of damn stun-wow!" Frank’s voice went out too, and I blushed this time.
Gerard, shaking his head, proceeded to knock Frank upside the head with his palm before glancing at me and asking Mikey, "I hope you’re happy, fucker. I just lost sleep because you had to brew some...er-" He sniffed the air. "Christmas Blend? Where did you get Christmas Blend, Mikey?"
"I dunno. It was there, so I made it," replied Mikey, staring back and forth between Gerard, Frank, and me. His eyes lingered on the singer the most, though, and eventually Gerard got a little uneasy.
"Well...er-thanks Mikes." Gerard threw an elbow at Frank and then walked past Mikey and me to get a cup of coffee.
Frank was looking lost. He was currently in a staring match with the younger Way brother, and Mikey wasn’t relenting. The only reason it stopped was Bob showing up, yawning.
"Hey everyone. I think that was meant for Gerard only, but he just had to hit his head. Fucker. Hello Joelle. You look nice. You have green eyes. I thought that they were grey yesterday. Oh well. What’s for breakfast in the rec room today, guys?"
Frank, Mikey, and Gerard, who had a large glass of the coffee black and was sipping it cautiously, all shrugged.
"Probably the same things as usual," Bob said with a grimace. "I’m starting to get tired of fruit and cereal. I want a fucking omelette. With peppers and sausage and-HEY!"
Frank had thrown a pillow at the drummer and hit him dead on in the forehead.
"Shut up, you’re making me miserable!"
Bob pouted. I frowned.
"Why don’t you just get one?" I asked, and everyone looked at me with a real excuse now.
"Well, every time we go somewhere to eat, we get jumped or attacked or something, and there’s nothing like waving a red flag to a bull than a famous band going into Denny’s and bringing a bazillion bodyguards with them."
I frowned at Gerard’s comment. "Bulls are colour-blind."
He tilted his head to the side a little bit. "Really?"
"That’s what I’ve heard," I said. "And besides, all you need is Worm."
Everyone shook their heads. "It’s not that easy," came Ray’s voice from the bunk room, thick with sleep. This was acknowledged by the rest of the band with grim nods.
"That’s dumb. Have you ever gone to a Denny’s this early? I doubt any teenies out there are sitting at Denny’s, thinking about what they’re going to scream about wanting to have Gerard’s babies. They’re all sleeping. And besides, you can always order and run."
They were still in deliberation at this first time, but then shook their heads again.
"It’s always cold by that time. Cold eggs gave us food poisoning once."
Everyone groaned at the experience except me. I had a vague idea however.
"Then get it and eat in the car or somewhere close by that’s more private."
Everyone quelled this idea immediately except for Gerard.
"We could drive to that one about thirty minutes from here. There’s a park close by if something happens."
"I’d like Denny’s," came Ray’s voice, a little more alert and a whole lot closer. I looked and saw him standing in the doorway, his hair about twice as frizzy as it usually was. I let out a giggle at the sight of him with that hair, blue and white striped boxers, and a blue T-shirt.
Bob let out a chuckle that almost matched mine, and Ray grinned happily. He walked past us and poked my shoulder, making me giggle again.
He poured himself coffee before turning to Gerard, blinking slowly, and saying, "I want a huge stack of pancakes!"
"I want an omelette!" said Bob.
"A piece of bacon sounds like heaven right now," remarked Frank.
Mikey rolled his eyes, but he nodded. "He’s got a point. Everyone out to the car!"
Gerard put a fist on his hip and thrust another arm in the air, reminding me of Superman.
Frank said, "We need to get Super-Gee some tights first," and I let out another giggle, raising my hand to my mouth to muffle it.
He patted me on the back, trying to help me breathe. It helped a lot more than I thought it would.
Everyone sort of disappeared. Ray, Bob, and Gerard all went to their bunks, where I could hear them yelling at each other as they got ready to go. Frank went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower start. I looked at Mikey, puzzled, but he seemed to read my mind.
"Yeah, he’s going. He’s super-fast at getting ready, so he’ll probably be done before the others even wake up completely. I’m done, so I’m not too fussed really." Mikey looked down and I noticed his hair was in casual disarray and getting longer. He was completely ready.
True to Mikey’s words, Frank Anthony Iero the Third was done in fifteen minutes. His hair was still wet, but his makeup was done and he was completely thrilled at the prospect of getting some half-way decent food.
Gerard and the others were dressed after another ten minutes after Frank had sat down opposite me on the kitchen table. The table had booths like all the RVs did, instead of chairs.
I was playing with a black ribbon I had tied on a belt loop on my jeans.
"‘Kay!" said Gerard, and Bob jumped down from the kitchen counter, yelling, "YAY! OMELETTE!"
Ray hit him upside the head, and Bob chased him out of the bus.
The hot, humid air was suffocating to me after the nice, cool tour bus that the band shared. My nose involuntarily scrunched up.
"What’s up?" asked Frank, and I told him, "I hate humidity, and I despise heat."
He looked puzzled. We had fallen back from the four joking friends and I watched them try to assassinate Bob.
"Jersey is amazing."
"I didn’t say anything about Jersey."
"Jersey’s hot and humid."
"Slightly humid, and it’s cold more months than not."
"Are you sure you aren’t talking about Canada?"
"Never been to Canada."
"Then maybe perhaps Maine. Or Washington."
"State or District?"
"State."
"Nope. I’ve been to New York as of yesterday, California, Connecticut, New Jersey, and Washington DC. Connecticut is the only state that I’ve lived in; everywhere else was only on vacation for a day or two."
He smiled, and we watched the friends climb into the Navigator, acting like spies or something. They were holding up their hands in some sort of gun pose, and had the most fake 007 expressions on their faces.
"We are the biggest bunch of nerds I’ve ever seen," he thought out loud, and I laughed softly at this.
"And you wouldn’t have it any different," I told him, and he looked at me, his eyes soft and his almost-familiar lips turned up at the corners. His wet, black-brown hair was hanging in his face.
"No. No, I wouldn’t."
We climbed in the Navigator.
The ride was long and filled with laughter.
All Ray and Bob did was play that damn Mario game. Frank, who was driving, was carrying on a conversation with his best friend about the upcoming show that evening, and Gerard was enthusiastically keeping it going.
Mikey and I were playing red-hands. Laughing like complete idiots, we smacked so hard that our hands were pink and throbbing by the time Frank pulled into the parking lot of the Denny’s.
We all piled out when everyone had their huge sunglasses on, but it hardly seemed necessary. The parking lot was completely empty except for one other car, not counting the three in the employee’s section.
We all entered the Denny’s, the bell ringing once as we opened the door. The waitress, a tired little thing but lovely in her own way, led us to a large, curved booth in the corner.
Crushed between Mikey and Gerard, I almost couldn’t breathe until the thirty-one-year-old finally laughed and gave me some room. I hit him on the shoulder, pouting with a hint of a smile.
The waitress came back. Her name read ‘Becky’, and her shoulder length brown hair was shining.
"Hey, I’m Becky, and I’ll be your waitress on this early morning," she said loudly, shooting a hard look towards the kitchen. Bob smiled at her, and she blushed, looking sheepish.
"So, can I get you anything to drink?" she asked, her baby blue eyes lingering on Bob more often than not, and Ray nudged him, holding in laughter.
"Er-orange juice?" said Ray in his high voice. Becky nodded, looking at his untamable hair.
"I want a water," mentioned Frank.
"Coke," said Mikey, and I spoke to her. "I’ll have the same as...Bob."
Bob shrugged and said, "Chocolate milk!" with more enthusiasm than I could imagine.
Becky smiled at him and wrote our orders down on her little book.
Here came Mr. Original, also known as the famous Gerard Way. "Coffee," he said, and we all snorted.
"A coffee? I swear, Gee, you’re the most predictable man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet," said Frank, and everyone laughed.
The waitress finally summoned up the courage to ask, "So, you guys really are MCR, huh?"
The laughter died instantly. Gerard made a sound that sounded like ‘Hmpf’, but I wasn’t completely sure.
"I won’t say anything. It’s just that...my older sister is infatuated about you, so I have to know so I can just watch her squirm. Besides, there’s kinda no one here to really care. That mother fucker back there who likes to call himself my boss made me come in here, and at six o’fucking clock in the goddam morning, and-"
Her voice choked off. A light blush had creeped up on her tan face, and I couldn’t help but smile at her.
"I’m not!" I told her, and she looked at me.
"I’ve seen you before too. There was a picture of you in the paper this morning."
My cheeks paled. "Wha..." I managed to get out.
"You were at the VWA with My Chemical Romance. People are wondering who in the hell is with their ‘future husbands’, even though four of you are married. My sister is so jealous. My sister thinks it’s because you were with the all so amazing Gerard Way, but I secretly think it’s because of how fucking gorgeous you are."
I blushed this time, my face warm. I choked involuntarily and held my face in my hands. I felt Mikey and Gerard pat me on the back.
"Sorry. But seriously, I think you should invest in sunglasses too. That and not saying names, and that goes for all of you. Okay, well, I’ll stop being your mother. I’ll go get your drinks."
She promptly left, leaving all of us sort of dazed. Ray finally broke the silence and said, "Bob, she’s pretty, don’t you think?" in a very exaggerated voice.
Everyone looked dumbfounded when his face turned pink.
"What the hell?" said Gerard, taking off his sunglasses. The others besides Bob followed suit, considering that they had been discovered already.
Bob was too busy avoiding everyone’s stares to take his off.
"It’s nothing..." the drummer murmured under his breath, and Frank retorted, "My ass. What the hell?"
"Bob thinks Becky is pretttttttty!" sung Gerard while Mikey and Ray roared with laughter.
Bob turned a deeper shade of red.
"Oh boo. So he thinks she’s pretty. No need to think the world is going to end. Jeez, you’re act like this is totally unheard of. Cut it out; the chick’s coming back," I said.
True to my word, Becky the waitress had a plate of drinks. She handed them out, looking puzzled at everyone’s amused yet acknowledging stares. They were looking her up, all to make Bob (who was staring at a fork) look more and more like a tomato.
After she had done this, she got out her book and asked if we were ready to order. Regardless of the pretty waitress, everyone perked up.
"Omelette!" Bob said with a grin. He finally took off his sunglasses as he said, "I don’t care what’s on it or in it. Everything. Just something besides fruit!"
Everyone nodded their heads. After Mikey ordered French toast, Frank had asked for a ‘Moons over my Hammy with some bacon’ to everyone’s amusement, Ray had his stack of pancakes, and Gerard and I had our Lumberjack Slams, she turned away and left Bob with his four other very curious band mates.
"Leave me alone," said Bob, and I nodded my acceptance.
The others, however, had a different thing in mind.
"So...Becky?"
"Leave him alone you pricks," I said. Frank laughed.
"She’s pretty. Nice eyes."
"Kiss my ass Gerard," muttered Bob, looking at his fork again.
"She can for me. Would you like that?"
"Hey fucker. Get the hint and read my lips: leave him the fuck alone," I said in a mild case of extreme pissed-off-ness.
It seemed that everyone besides Mikey and Bob looked at my mouth. I blushed and the next thing I knew, Becky was back and she asked to sit down, saving Bob and myself from further humiliation.
"Sure," said Mikey, and Gerard looked at his brother with a sort of arrogant look. Apparently, Gerard wanted more time to tease Bob, but he backed down because of Becky. Besides, he probably figured he could just interrogate him when we got back to the bus.
She pulled up a chair and took a seat at the end of the table. "You guys are the only ones crazy enough to come eat this early, and I get that. You probably don’t want to get mauled. But still, it’s way to goddam early. I feel like a dead man walking."
"You should’ve seen Gerard this morning," mentioned Bob with an innocent smile on his face. Gerard scowled at him, but everyone else laughed, realising that Bob was getting a well-deserved revenge.
Ray yawned. "Too early for me. I just got woken up by Gerard there."
"And Mikey woke me up by making coffee. I swear, coffee is like an alarm clock."
"Yeah no kidding," said Frank. "You make coffee, and Gerard is your alarm clock by banging his fucking head on the bottom of the top bunk."
The band and we two females laughed while Gerard sulked. "That hurt," he mumbled under his breath, and Mikey and I laughed harder...
"So what the hell is up with the boss-dude?" asked Bob, looking at Becky.
She rolled her baby blue eyes and went on a little vocal rampage:
"He wakes me up at five o’clock in the morning, telling me that I have to open the store because his daughter, who is a damn lazy bitch, is too tired to open. So now, I’m stuck here all day while his daughter sleeps her life away, to stubborn to do anything herself and living off her blind-as-a-bat father. And you know what? If I could find a better job doing anything in the world besides standing on street corners...I would take it. And I’m almost tempted to stand on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard, I’m so pissed. I hate this goddamned job."
"REBECCA TAYLOR, GET YOUR LAZY BEHIND IN HERE AND STOP SOCIALISING!"
She grimaced, looking apologetically at us. "And speak of the Devil, there he is. Well, I’ll talk to you later."
She stood up with a little wave and left to go to her yelling boss.
When she disappeared in the back, Gerard said after a long silence, "You know, she’s pretty cool. I like her already."
This was generally agreed to. Bob didn’t say anything, continuing to stare where she had disappeared. Confused, I looked at Gerard.
He leaned to my ear. His breath tickled as he whispered, "He hasn’t had a girlfriend since the tours started at the beginning of his time with us. He’s had one that was everything to him, but she left. It was a long time ago. He’s had girlfriends, but not for long. We’ve been worried. Everyone has someone besides Bob."
I was sad at this news. Poor Bob.
He pulled away, but I could have swore that I felt something-his lips?-brush against my skin.
Maybe I was losing it.
Becky came back out after a while with the food and a glass of water. She gave out the meals (Bob almost cried at the sight of his ‘Ultimate Omelette’) and then sat down again, taking a sip of her water.
"So you guys start today huh?"
Ray said, "Yeah. You should come to the show!" with his mouth stuffed of flapjacks.
She looked angry at this comment. "Well, I was going to go, but my sister gave my ticket to her boyfriend so he could go. I didn’t even find out until today."
Everyone in the band gaped while I looked mutinous. "That’s so fucking low. I already don’t like her."
"No kidding," said Becky, looking disgruntled. But she smiled and motioned to everyone’s food. "Come on; don’t have my manager in here telling me that I’m keeping you from your meals next."
Everyone took a hurried bite; Gerard and I both took a bite of honeyed ham at the same instant while Frank bit off an enormous chunk of his breakfast sandwich.
"Well, can you not get your ticket back?" asked Bob, his mouth miraculously empty, considering he had been wolfing his omelette and was already half done.
"No. They’ve gone for the weekend. Oh well. I’ll just kick Jimmy’s ass on Guitar Hero tonight."
"Who’s Jimmy?" asked Gerard, looking at Bob who was looking at Becky with a saddened expression.
"Little brother," she said, and Bob looked relieved. This did not go unnoticed by Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Frank, and I.
"Well, I’m sure we could get our manager to let you in anyway, even though it’s sold out. It’ll be our treat," said Frank, surprising all of us.
She shook her head. "Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay."
"I insist," said Bob, and she looked up from her water. Their eyes caught and they held each other’s stare until Gerard coughed loudly.
"Sorry," said Becky, colouring again. Bob’s eyes flicked to her.
"It’s okay. I think Bob liked it as much as you did," said Gerard, and Bob aimed an elbow at his ribs. Gerard groaned as it hit his stomach, and pouted while everyone else laughed.
"But seriously Becky. Brian will let us. You can even hang out afterwards. Or before."
"I’ve got to work before," she told Frank in response to his comment.
"I thought you were planning on quitting," remarked Frank, and she nodded.
"Yeah, when I find another job. At the moment, no one’s hiring. But if you want me to come after..." She smiled, her eyes distant. She was a million miles away.
"We could even bring you on stage," laughed Gerard with a smirk. "Boy, your sister would be pissed!"
Everyone chuckled at this. Becky was laughing, but still looking distant until Gerard said, "Well, we’re going to need to contact you or whatever, considering you’re not going to skip out on work. So yeah..."
Becky shrugged and said, "I’ve got a cell. Damn, Nicole’s gonna be pissed. Meeting her favourite people in the world and hanging out with them after... This is gonna be hilarious when I tell her. But after. Jesus, that would suck if she begged me to take her."
"You should tell her before so I can give her a rightly deserved smack upside the head," I said, and laughter yet again echoed in the completely empty restaurant.
"Okay. I’m fucking stuffed," said Gerard, patting his stomach.
"Me too," I said, and we both laughed as we looked and saw that we left the same things on our plates. Ray and Bob jumped to the opportunity, each grabbing a plate and beginning to eat our left-overs.
I downed the last of the chocolate milk as a beefy man came out in a crisp suit, looking furious and hot.
"Rebecca Taylor, get in the kitchen or you’re fired."
She rolled her eyes at us and then proceeded to stand up. She left, and Gerard called out, "Wait, we need your phone number!"
"Get to the kitchen or you’re FIRED!" he yelled, and she furiously debated in the back of her mind on whether to disobey and get fired or not go to the My Chemical Romance concert with us.
"Stay and get fired," I said. "I seriously doubt that this guy can run shop while his daughter sleeps off her hangover, so he needs you. You’re indispensable to him at the moment, Becky."
Gerard and Mikey snorted and the manager turned a delicate shade of puce.
"And besides, these idiots beside me are My Chemical Romance. If they...if I...can’t get you a goddam job, then the world’s gone to Hell and back. Sit your cute ass down and give us your phone number. Eventually Mr. Touchy there will get the pole out of his ass."
She couldn’t help it; Becky Taylor erupted in giggles. I grinned at her as she walked past her shocked boss and sat down. Gerard pulled out his cell phone and programmed her number into his contact list, and she stood up with a moment’s thought.
"Besides," she said, turning to the large man with a smirk on her face, "It won’t hurt his daughter to get up, regardless of the headache. And trust me, you need her. Because I fucking quit."
The table exploded in applause and cheers as she took off her name tag and threw it at his feet.
Gerard threw a wad of cash on the table, piled all the left-over food on one plate, and we took off with the piled-high plate, laughing and dragging our new unemployed friend with us.
Rebecca Taylor was a twenty-year-old girl with large dreams and no prospects. She lived with her single mother and her two siblings. She had been struggling with her mother to let her go out and live life, but her mother was reluctant to let go of the only stable child she had. Her sister, a girl with everything at her disposal, was an aspiring actress, but it wasn’t going well, and she now spent most of her time going from boyfriend to boyfriend. The little boy, Jimmy, was not very little at all, being sixteen and working in a paper factory here in L.A. The mother was making an okay income, but wanted more, rushing her daughters into colleges that they couldn’t afford.
Becky was trying to work up enough money to go to college, but she had always wanted to see the world too. It seemed she had nothing to really look forward to, except a life of hard work like most Americans in the world today to get a future that would never happen.
She was happy to be away from Denny’s, but was nervous of what her mother would think.
Bob told her not to worry about it. She gave him a hug. He looked pleased with himself.
When we got to the VWA, crowd was starting to develop. In only two hours, the parking lot went from abandoned to packed.
We got passed the fans and came back to a furious Brian Schecter. In fact, the second we got out of the Navigator, he began yelling.
"HOLY SHIT GUYS!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
"Dear Brian," started Gerard, and Frank finished, "We brought you a plate full of delicious food so you wouldn’t be mad at us. We also brought Bob’s future girlfriend. Love, the band and Joelle."
Bob choked and Becky blushed.
Brian looked at her, and finally took the stolen plate and sniffed it appreciatively. He took a sausage link and bit it, grinning.
"Okay, I’ll forgive you. Anything besides cold fruit is heaven. Well, get ready. And Joelle, I need you and Bob’s future girlfriend to come with me."
I laughed at the horrified expression on Bob’s face. Becky just blushed and smiled, looking at her K-Swiss sneakers.
"Becky; her name’s Becky."
"Hello Becky, nice to meet you. Now come on."
He took off and Becky and I waved, following him. While we walked behind the almost jogging man in front of us, I spoke.
"So, funny day huh?"
She smiled, showing her slightly crooked white teeth. "Yeah. It’s wild. I didn’t expect to be with My Chemical Romance."
Onto the important question: "So what do you think of our drummer?"
She coloured again and looked sideways at me. "He’s...um...cool."
"Do you like him?" I asked, getting to the point.
"I just met him! I don’t know. He’s..."
"Attractive?"
She blushed again. "Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give him that."
"Cool. That’s what I wanted to hear."
She looked confused. "Why would you want to hear that?"
I grinned. "Never you mind. Let’s catch up to Brian and see what he wants to talk to us about."
Despite obviously wanting to continue the subject, she dropped it as we came up to a picnic table in the middle of the parking lot, clearly set up by the loyal workers so they could eat in the outdoors.
We both sat down as the MCR manager finally settled down, eating his cold, stolen food on his stolen plate with his stolen fork.
With a chunk of Gerard or my ham in his mouth, he said, "Now listen here, you two. Becky, right?"
She nodded and said hello. He looked befuddled for a moment, swallowed his meat, and said, "Is every one of those boys gonna bring someone on the bus?"
I laughed. Becky looked sheepish.
"You know, Brian. Four of those members are married. All except the amazingly agile Mr. Bob. I doubt that they’ll bring them on the bus. They can have a goddam hotel, because I’m not listening to them shag."
Brian and Becky snorted. The manager shoved a fork full of hashbrowns in his mouth and swallowed with difficulty before saying, "You’re right about that."
"It seems that she’s always right, and I’ve only known her for about an hour and a half!" said Becky, and Brian nodded, knowing that she was right. I wasn’t prideful of vain, but I knew that I was always right too.
It was some sort of accomplishment in my worthless life.
Haven’s brown eyes popped into my head, and I shoved my tears away before I embarrassed myself or did something stupid.
"Alicia, Christa, Jamia, and Lyn are going to be at tonight’s show. I want you two to keep them from going backstage and disturbing the guys."
"Oh hell no."
I backed away from him, shaking my head.
I knew that I couldn’t be in the same room with, let alone watch, Lindsey Ann Ballato. There would only be three outcomes of that, all of them bad.
One would be getting in a screaming match with her in front of thousands of people. I wasn’t worried about looking bad or getting embarrassed in front of them; it was more the fact that I didn’t want the whole world to know my pain. It was none of their goddam business.
Option Two was even more unbearable. I’d get so depressed and upset by just knowing what she did that I’d go into some secluded area and kill myself without accomplishing my mission to destroy Lyn’s controlling relationship over Gerard. Besides, even Gerard himself expressed doubts about being with his wife of now over a year.
And three was desirable but not right. At least not for Gerard. They were still married, Lindsey and the thirty-one-year-old, and I wasn’t going to throw him into more death and agony by killing her. No. That was not right. Gerard was going through enough by having me, the suicidal empty soul, around.
So, to avoid killing her, killing myself, and yelling at her, I had to stay away from Gerard’s wife, and my long-ago solace in a dark existence, besides the source of light itself by the name of Haven Raine Thomas.
"No," I repeated, and I heard Brian’s voice say "But why? What’s wrong with that?" with confusion.
I turned fully around and walked briskly to the MCR tour bus, threw open the door, slammed it shut to the band’s shock, and found myself sobbing on Gerard Way’s bunk.
I could see Haven in my mind. His long brown hair that hung in his chocolate brown eyes had fallen out by the time that Haven died, and even the soft hair on his arms had disappeared with the chemotherapy. The skin around his eyes was black with the cancer that ate away his brain, and yet he still held me as I drifted to sleep, whispering "I love you Joelle, and when this is over, we’re going to get away and get married and be happy. We’ll adopt a child, have a life. It’ll be great. So sleep honey...just sleep." I had always fallen asleep with his comforting words, and despite the fact that Haven never again smelled like cinnamon but of medicine and death, he had always been perfect.
I’ll never forget waking up, wrapped in my destiny’s cold, dead arms.
I felt a pair of cold, strong, foreign arms wrap around me, laying me down as I sobbed.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. For the first time in a month, I had actually dreamt of nothing, and it was almost a relief.
I felt cold. It wasn’t that internal cold that I usually had now, but I was physically cold.
I was barren as well. I didn’t feel...anything. No pain, no misery, nothing but the cold; I was as blank as a sheet of clean paper.
Also, I could feel deep, even breathing on my neck.
This did not make my jump like it usually did. I was in equilibrium. I didn’t feel at all.
It nearly scared me.
Focusing on the dusky room, I let my eyes adjust to the setting and found myself still on the thirty-one-year-old’s bunk.
He was also lying down beside me, breathing deeply in sleep and dreaming. His arms were wrapped around me, which explained my chill.
I figured that Gerard had come in here while I had cried, and eventually his exhaustion and my pain had made us drift off. We hadn’t even realised it. He still hadn’t. He was in his dreams.
My face was in his chest, for I was in a sort of fetal position. It felt comfortable, but my nose was still cold. I wondered if it was pink. I then wondered why the singer was always cold.
I came to many conclusions, each more unrealistic than the last. I settled on him just being cold, purely out of genetics. But then again, his brother was as warm as the rest of the normal human population, and I dropped the questions in my mind. It did no good by wondering about something that you needed the person-in-question to answer.
He shifted in his sleep, and I seized this opportunity to straighten myself out, laying flat against him. He was now directly in my line of vision, and I could see his eyes moving behind his eyelids. His eyelashes were brushing a pale cheek, and his hair was dark against his skin. His steady breathing was tickling my face, and smelled of cinnamon gum and stale cigarettes.
The hero, the idol of millions was holding me to him, and I was confused about being in this situation.
Millions of people, fans and not, would never wake him up. Their hearts would be bursting out of their chests, and they would try to get closer. They might even put a peck on his lips, and then giggle like a love-struck teen-ager. They would not hesitate on just staring at him, perhaps even taking a picture with their camera phone, and then when it was all over, they would go bragging to their friends.
My heart was steady, could never violate a friend to kiss him even if I was in the emotional state of doing it, and I had no camera phone for proof. Furthermore, the only friends that I had to tell knew I was in here, and one was the one that I was being held by.
As for staring and getting closer...well...I was guilty.
I wished that I could be that peaceful without being with my beloved. Gerard Way could be happy without Lindsey or anything else, because he had something to live for.
His chilly body was refreshing to me. I did not like the heat, and I could feel tendrils of heat trying to penetrate Gerard’s cocoon around me.
Focusing on something besides the famous man, I listened for any signs of life in the world. I knew that we were not alone in the bus; I could hear a song coming softly from the television and the hushed laughter and murmuring in the ‘living room’, if that’s what you could call it.
Outside in the Los Angeles summer heat, I could hear shouting and noise coming from the crew setting up the stage.
I was thinking about what time it was when Gerard’s eyes opened. His hazel eyes searched my emerald ones for a long time before either one of us spoke.
"Do you know what time it is?" he asked me, his voice a whisper.
"No," I whispered just as softly back. "I was just wondering that."
"It is still the 20th, right? I haven’t missed the show, have I?"
"How should I know? I just woke up."
"Did you really?"
I paused, thinking about that for a good minute while Gerard’s eyes searched for any hint of a lie in me. Eventually, I said, "It’s been about ten minutes."
"Hmm... Why haven’t...never mind."
"I haven’t moved because of two reasons. One is that I can feel the heat around us and you seem to be a living freezer, and two is that I like seeing people who can sleep like normal human beings."
He fought to roll his eyes and won. His gaze did not break mine.
"I’m not a freezer."
"Sorry. A refrigerator then, my bad."
He smiled, his small teeth flashing in the gloom. "I don’t know why. That’s something about me that I haven’t quite figured out."
"The fridge-temp to your skin?"
"Yeah. Everyone comments on it. I don’t feel cold, but they say that I always am."
"Imagine that."
He hugged me briefly before pulling out of our embrace and standing up. He stretched, ran a finger through his mess of hair, and pulled out his cell phone. His thin, too-young-for-his-age face was illuminated from the backlight on his cell as he read, "5:24 p.m. We’ve got thirty-six minutes before we need to get to sound check. Why didn’t they wake us up?"
"You looked too peaceful," said Ray Toro loudly. Gerard flipped him off and began rummaging through his white suitcase. He told me, "This is my favourite material thing in the world. Japanese and everything."
I snorted and turned my back on him, pulling down on the blinds to get an eyeful of unwelcome sunlight. I let out my breath harshly, letting go of the blinds, and covered my head with Gerard’s pillow.
"Come on Joelle. You gotta come out sometime."
"Fuck that shit. Just call on me when the sun is gone."
He laughed and I heard him leave the room. A couple of minutes later, I heard the door open and a voice that I didn’t ever want to hear again.
"Hey babe," said Lindsey Ballato, and I heard Mikey and another female laugh. There was a smacking noise and a light voice said, "Get a room Michael Way."
More laughter, and then Ray was talking to the light voiced girl, who I now knew was his wife of only a few months, Christa.
I stood up, mimicked Gerard by trying to smooth out my hair, and I walked out of the bunk room.
Everyone paused as I walked right passed Lindsey without giving her any recognition. The bus was now silent as I walked up to Mikey, who jumped into introductions after giving me a hug and grinning.
"This is my wife Alicia," he said, pointing to a black haired girl with a nose ring. "This is Christa, Ray’s wife," he continued, gesturing to Ray and a short haired girl with a lip ring and tattoos on her arm, "This is Jamia, Frank’s wife..." I looked at the cute little woman beside him and felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. I felt instantly horrified with myself, but smiled anyway.
"And this is our new friend Joelle. She’s touring with us!"
"And thinking of clever diabolical plans to get them real food for breakfast and stealing Way’s make-up."
Everyone laughed when Gerard yelled, "Hell no! Go get your own damn make-up!"
Becky and Bob were sitting beside each other in one of the booths in the kitchen. She smiled and I grinned back.
"Hello Joelle," said Lindsey softly, and I ignored her.
"Mikey and I fucked up their beauty sleep, so I deserved to take them out. We got Becky in the deal, too, so I’m happy. That’s Becky, by the way, also known as Bob’s Future Girlfriend."
Everyone laughed, except for the two embarrassed people in the booth. I could hear Lindsey’s from where I was standing, and it grated on my raw nerves.
After everyone had said hello to Becky, Lindsey said, louder this time, "Joelle Anderson, we need to talk."
Again, I ignored her, walking to the bathroom where Gerard was putting on his make-up for the concert. He had whitened his face even more and was now applying black eyeliner to his hazel-brown eyes.
"Joelle, be nice," he muttered to me, and I snorted, grabbing his red eyeshadow. I began applying it while he finished his eyes. We traded at the same time, for we finished at the same time, and I laughed while he chuckled.
When we were both done, we exited and grinned at everyone. Well, I skipped the persona of Lindsey, but she didn’t count in my book.
Frank was already finished, his eyes done in eyeliner and devoid of black ‘X’s for the time being. Everyone was dressed in their performing clothes besides Gerard, who strolled to the bunk room and shut the door.
"Joelle," started Lindsey, and I finally turned on her. "Look, I’m trying to ignore you. Get the hint and shut the hell up."
I almost winced at the harsh sound of my voice, but I didn’t because I was satisfied about the reaction I got.
"Your sleeve is fucked up," said the rhythm guitarist, and he walked over to me, pulling it up. When his hands, covered in a fingerless leather glove, grazed my skin and a small amount of my pearly scar, I was shocked to find that goosebumps covered my body.
I didn’t let my surprise show, however, and I thanked him with a smile. He smiled back with sincerity and his hazel eyes almost went a yellow colour.
I tore my eyes from his and giggled as Gerard strutted out, in his black suit and red tie. He looked like Gerard Way alright, eye-candy for almost all of the MCR fan population and hero to millions worldwide.
"Geez, don’t you look original?" I remarked, fighting a laugh.
"What?" he asked, walking past his wife without a glance.
"You look like every other you in the world. Dress in a skirt and a Hollister shirt, do your make-up like a dime-store hooker, and go out singing Britney Spears. I’d laugh my ass off."
"I don’t do stuff like that, Joelle!"
"What? Don’t put on make-up? Are you lying?"
He opened his mouth to retort, paused, and then said after a hesitation, "No!"
"So you do do your make-up like a dime-store hooker?"
"No!"
"But I saw you with make up on that reminded me of one. You’re teasing me, Way. I’ll axe-murder you for that."
"You wouldn’t!"
"How do you know?"
He hesitated. "I wish you’d stop doing that."
"Doing what? It’s hot, babysitter Gee, and I’m hungry. Make me a PB&J."
"I’m not your babysitter!"
"I could’ve sworn that we’ve had this conversation before. Didn’t we agree that you were my sitter?"
"No!"
"But..."
"I’m going to impale you with a coffee cup, Joelle, if you don’t stop putting me in these situations!"
"What situations?" I asked innocently. I heard Bob and Ray laugh; the latter whispered to his wife, "This is better than a TV show, no joke!" The others were smiling and watching with amusement as I manipulated the singer.
"You know!"
"I’m confused, Uncle Jiggy. All I’m doing is finding the flaws in your arguments."
"No, you’re making me seem like a hypocrite."
I laughed. "Fine, Way, but you should really start watching what you say. And stop being so easy."
He snorted, more of his messy dark hair falling in his face. His eyes were sparkling, either from the excitement of singing soon or the little conversation we had just had I didn’t know. But he was happy.
"Ha-ha, aren’t you clever? Well, even a girl like you has weaknesses."
My brain went a little dull, thinking of Haven, but he mentioned the opposite: "For instance, my amazing God-like-ness. You’re jealous of my fantastic swooning skills, and you hate the heat."
"Oh, my God! I didn’t know God was a fag!"
He chased me around Ray and Christa until our laughter made us too breathless to do it anymore. We both collapsed on the opposite side of Bob and Becky, laughing hysterically while everyone else watched and got ready to leave for sound check.
"You guys are fucking gay, you know," remarked Mikey, and we erupted in a new set of giggles. Because seriously...that’s what Gerard Way’s laugh sort of sounded like.
We were dragged out of the somewhat cool bus to the blistering heat outside by Frank and Mikey, their wives dragging behind and chatting to Becky. I instantly made a run to the door of the tour bus, but the thirty-one-year-old singer grabbed me around the waist and carried me as we walked to the crew doorway of the VWA. I allowed him to do it and even wrapped my arms around him because he felt good.
I fought back a choke, thinking about that last comment my mind had thought of. Felt good? Holy shiet, that wasn’t good, was it?
I shoved it into a mouse hole in the back of my brain, concentrating on staying cool.
The cold blast of air was welcoming as we stepped into the back of the Amphitheater. Gerard put me down and I brushed myself off, grumbling about getting babysitter germs on me. Everyone laughed while Gerard rolled his eyes.
Proceeding to the stage, I saw a couple of fans already let in. Paying extra money was the only reason that the couple dozen screaming girls and boys were even allowed in. They got to watch My Chemical Romance’s sound check, and they were stoked apparently.
One girl, a tall, haughty looking thing in the front row screamed, "BECKY TAYLOR!"
We all stopped, looking at the hyperventilating sister of Becky. "What are you...how did you...Becky!" she whined, and one of Frank’s eyebrows rose.
Becky’s voice was small. "I forgot about that part. How can I get rid of her?"
Bob shrugged and whispered something in her ear. Becky giggled and the sister looked confused and furious at the same time.
"I’m so sorry to interrupt on this little reunion, but get going! Do your jobs girls!" Brian, again, looking to ruin our fun. Ha-ha. For such a rocker-styled, tattooed, pierced, and soft-spoken bloke, he was quite the headache sometimes.
"What jobs?" asked Alicia.
Becky and I laughed. "We’re supposed to be taking you hostage, Alicia," Becky giggled, and proceeded to act like she was shackling Mikey Way’s betrothed.
I laughed. Gerard hit me upside the head and I chased him to his microphone, to the amusement and cheering from everyone. I grabbed his mike and began hitting his protesting form, saying, "Check, check, check; the mike’s working just fine, folks!" as the hitting sounded over the amplifiers surrounding the stage.
He eventually grabbed the mike and spoke in it, saying, "God says no, Joey."
"I’m going to impale you with a coffee cup if you call me that again, babysitter Gee." My voice carried and laughter broke out. Even Brian, who had been silently fuming to a nuclear explosion as he watched the chaos, laughed.
"It would be an amazing death. I can see it now: ‘Singer Gerard Way impaled with coffee cup, the same drink he worships on a day-to-day basis! Oh, the horror!’"
I snorted and aimed a swift kick at him, which he neatly dodged. Girls sighed with horror and yet longing on the fact that I was kicking their man candy but being so close to him at the same time.
"JOELLE ANDERSON, STOP FUCKING WITH THE SINGER AND GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I IMPALE YOU BOTH WITH A DAMN COFFEE CUP!" bellowed Brian, and I parted with a wave from my best friend, grinning like an idiot...
Wait.
Best friend? That was Haven, not Gerard!
I was left to my troubled thoughts as I walked past Gerard’s wife.
Lindsey Ballato saw right through me, and I saw right through Lindsey Ballato.
I was confused.
She was scared.
Title: Fighting for the End (Chapter Four)
Author: AlexandraxJean
Pairing: Gerard/female, Frank/female (Gerard/Lyn-Z hinted)
Rating: R to be safe
POV: First, female
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. That would suck. Really bad.
Summary: Gerard Way and Lyn-Z take a young woman out of her home to take away her pain of losing a loved one. None of them expect what happens to the three of them, especially Gerard's relationship with the the girl Joelle.