Fighting for the End -Chapter Six-
Title: Fighting for the End (Chapter Five)
Author:
alexandraxjean / AlexandraxJean
Pairing: Gerard/female, Frank/female (Gerard/Lyn-Z hinted)
Rating: NC-17 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.
A/N: Yeah, I know. Oops. Sorry. I've been kinda over-obsessing with a certain fanfiction called Petals in the Wind by
sunshines_rain. If you get the chance, read that bloody storey. It's WICKED. I've been going crazy waiting for this new update to the point of checking it every five minutes. Yeah, I'm obsessed. That chick can WRITE...and draw too. Check out her art.
And then I've been writing like crazy on something else. So yeah...I hope you don't hate me too much. *shrinks away* ANYWAY...this chapter is where the smutty-drama starts. And it's getting pretty fucked up in my head.
Oh yeah---and I finally figured out how to do all this 'LiveJournalCut' shiet, so it's all good. *grins*
Well, here's the next chapter!
Chapter Six
Frank and I separated very quickly. Of course we weren’t completely cold of each other, but one look at each other we were taking off, running away, running towards the person who had seen that...that mistake.
"Jesus Christ, what if that was..."
"Jamia’s outside with Becky I think. They said that they would go straight up to the rooms and shower."
"God, God, God..."
I didn’t who I thought it was, but for everyone’s sake, I really hoped it was Gerard. He wouldn’t approve but he would get it a little bit. Actually, no. As long as it wasn’t a fan or a reporter or Jamia, it wouldn’t be bad...
Right?
"I’m sorry," he whispered in mid-step, and I tried to snort with no success.
"Frank, it wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine."
"It was not."
"Was too."
"You sound like Gee, Joelle. You and him are creeping me out. You’re twins."
"No. I wasn’t anything like H-"
"Huh?"
"Never mind. You know, I don’t think I’ll take Mr. Way on his offer. Knifes are pretty, don’t you think?"
As I said that, we came out of the lobby and met the rest of the group. But Frank didn’t really seem to pay attention. He stopped, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me hard.
"No they aren’t Joelle Anderson. Don’t you say that. Don’t even think about it."
"Yes, Mother."
"Goddamnit," he exclaimed, dropping me and storming off to the My Chemical Romance group.
Everyone was looking at me with bewildered expressions.
"Never you mind. I want a television, and I want you guys to see something. Please. Watch him with me."
I stared at Gerard, who got what I meant and began leading the group to the hotel room.
* * *
My face came on the screen. I was grinning.
"Testing, testing, one two three. I think it’s workin’ dudes and dudettes! This is bitchin’ Joey."
I smiled at the director of our little film. "You’re cute."
"I am weird, what’re you talking about girl?" A strong hand came into the screen and ruffled my hair.
"Haven, you’re going to drop the video camera."
"Oh! Oops!"
I snorted. Haven righted the camera.
"Okay, people who are watching a masterpiece in the making, this is Carmen."
"HAVEN!"
There was a deep laugh, and I reached out and grabbed the camera.
Haven’s face filled up the screen and he covered his face with his hands, groaning.
"You’re prettier to look at."
"NEVER!" he yelled, and then attacked the camera.
"Yes huh."
"Nuh uh!"
"You’re a dork."
"I’m just challenged, Joey."
I began laughing and then righted myself, aiming the camera at him.
He winked at me and then got really serious.
"Okay, so I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo of Jack Skellington, but I’m scared of needles."
"Pansy," I called out, and he laughed.
"I know, I know. So anyway, I’ve been thinking about getting that Henna shit."
"Don’t say shit. Shit is a shitty word, Haven Raine."
He flipped the camera off.
Everyone laughed at this sight. It was so much like Frank. He even laughed himself.
"That’s totally not school appropriate, you know."
"And do you think I’m going to let little Bobby Fit watch this? I’ll be lucky as hell if anyone sees this."
"I’m watching it. One day I’ll let your twin watch it, how ‘bout that?"
He grinned widely and pushed a fist in the air. "Frank Anthony Iero is God." Everyone looked at Frank as he watched with open eyes at his double.
"God is overrated, Haven."
"God is urban legend. Did you know that Satan is my homie."
I laughed offscreen. I laughed onscreen as well.
"Homie? Jeez. Nice, Haven Thomas."
"Why thank you love."
"Bite me."
"Ewwwwwww..."
"What if I did this?"
His eyes got wide. He bit his lip and watched me. I remember touching the inside of my thigh, really high. Poor little Haven. I laughed and everyone looked at me before turning back when Haven began speaking again.
"God, Joelle Thomas. I’m going to jump you if you don’t stop it."
"Lovely."
"I’m supposed to be making an amazing movie!"
"And this is!"
"Gah."
I laughed, zooming in closer to his face.
"Alright, alright, so I went to your house today and your mother said that she wished I’d fall in a pit of quicksand."
"Nice. I’ve never heard that particular insult before."
He grinned. "Yeah, me neither. Usually it’s a lot more violent than that."
"Remember when she said that she would throw you into the sewers of New York and let the giant rats and alligators eat you alive?"
"Yeah, and then she mentioned that she’d give me a flesh-eating virus before so she could get rid of three types of vermin in the New York underground."
"I didn’t hear that part."
"Yeah. I told her that they would eat her too before she even got two steps away."
"You did not."
"I know. I said, ‘That’s great, Mrs. Anderson.’"
"Classic."
"Not really. I wish that Gerard Way would come to our wedding. Do you think that Lindsey will approve?"
"All you ever talk about is me and Gerard Way. I should go kidnap him, cut him in half, and then cut myself in half, and then sow us together. You’d be in Heaven!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
He hopped with inhuman grace and I saw Jamia blush. She was staring at the taller double of her husband with amazement and definite attraction. All of the other females were looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. Because while Haven looked like Frank, he was completely different. His secret glittered in his large eyes.
"Gerard Way is perfect just the way he is."
"And so is Daron Malakian."
"Now, he’s God."
"He’s my God. You can have Gerard Way."
"I don’t want anyone but you..." he whispered. He approached me in the video, and let the screen. The camera fell out of my hands as Haven kissed me.
"I love you Joelle Thomas."
"Haven," I said simply.
He picked up the camera and zoomed on my pink face.
"This is my wife. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."
I blushed harder.
"She’s gorgeous. And she’s thinking about Frankie, aren’t you?"
With a squeal, I jumped him and the camera flew again, falling on us a couple of feet away, on the ground. I was on top of him, and I looked healthier above his beautiful form. He was my medicine.
I stopped struggling and he said, "The video is ruined, if not the camera."
"Then so be it, my love."
I kissed him, and was surrounded by his warmth. After a while, we broke apart.
"You pretending I’m-"
"I am going to annihilate you, Haven."
"Joey’s gotta crush, Joey’s got a crush..." he began singing in a melodious tune, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, on you."
"NUH UH!" he yelled, and then flipped me over, tickling me.
"Hey!" exclaimed a voice and Haven popped up, looking around.
"You aren’t supposed to be in here, kids!" the voice bellowed, and we hopped up, grabbing the camera and running for our lives. The camera bobbed as it filmed the grassy ground and the trees. The screen showed a NO TRESPASSING sign and everyone began laughing in the hotel room. You could hear the shouter and the even footfalls in the video, and when there was an outburst of hysterical laughter on the video, everyone laughed harder.
"We’ve only been there, what, how many times? A bazillion times? And now they catch us. Wow. That’s pretty stellar," said Haven in his melodic voice.
"You’re a dork. Mr. Hamburg is going to know it was us you know."
"Who cares? Damn, I have one fucker of a headache."
I flinched horribly at the mention of this. Gerard flinched just as heavily as I did. Everyone else looked back and forth between us.
"I’m sorry." My expression grew troubled as he banged on his temple.
"It’s alright. I just don’t...Jesus Christ. My brain is on fire, Joey." His expression, showing small amount of fear, looked at me and we stared before he doubled over, coughing up red. It was his blood, and it was coming out of his mouth, his ears.
"HAVEN!"
"Joelle, call an ambulance," he choked, laying down as his nose started to trickle. His hands were clenched, holding his head in a death grip. The camera laid forgotten, filming as I called 911 on my cell phone and cried as I held Haven close. He was so pale...
The camera switched. Now the video showed Haven’s face, sunken in, as he played the guitar. His My Chemical Romance shirt was dark against his pale skin, and his hair was gone. Everyone looked shocked and saddened. I heard Jamia sniffle, a tear falling."Joey, come in here, love."
I jumped, caught. I walked to Haven and sat down, watching him as he began playing Cancer by My Chemical Romance. I laid the camera on the piano, and the picture showed both of us.
"Haven, I wish you wouldn’t."
He stopped playing and looked at me. His brown-hazel eyes were filled with secrets.
"Haven?!" called a voice, and I called back, "He’s in here, Mrs. Thomas."
An older woman came into the view, and she was carrying a glass of water and a handful of pills.
"Here you go honey, take ‘em all, okay?"
"Yes," he said.
She left and Haven looked at the pills. There were at least ten there. I knew in reality that there was thirteen different pills in his hands. Jamia covered her mouth. Frank wrapped an arm around her and looked at me.
"Joey, I think I’m addicted to the Oxy."
"No you aren’t."
"Well, you know what, I guess not."
His eyes were lying. I whispered in the real world, "Your eyes are lying..."
He downed the pills all at once and began chewing them up. Everyone in the room grimaced at the fact that he didn’t grimace. Except me.
I watched him. He never touched the water.
"Haven, when are you going to die?"
He automatically looked horrified and he quickly stood up, swaying a little bit from being weak. He got down on his knees and held me close.
"Carmen Joelle Thomas, I am not going to die soon."
"Yes you will. I know you will. Look at you. You’re dying."
"I’m fighting. This Glioblastoma Multiforme is a tricky little bugger, you know that. But I’ll be alive for a lot longe-"
It cut off again, and Lindsey was in the camera, in her black dress from the funeral. She was pale, but dry eyed.
"Christine Anderson, turn that camera off!" demanded Lindsey.
I gasped as Gerard looked at me. Over the television, he said "Let’s turn it off. No one needs to see this."
Gerard Way stepped into the shot, followed by at least five paramedics and two police officers. He was vermillion in colour...my blood. His left hand was twitching so violently that it had a mind of its own. His eyes were cloudy and his black hair was clumped and sticking to his face. He had clearly taken a bloodbath.
"Gerard..." Lindsey started, but she never finished. Gerard collapsed to his knees and began heaving, his posture so tense it was shaking.
My mother filmed while giggling happily.
When he had finished emptying his stomach and then some, he just collapsed on his wife and began sobbing in her lap. The dry eyed Lindsey Ann Ballato just stroked his hair.
"Did my daughter die?" asked my mother, and Lindsey shot her a look of utter loathing. Gerard’s tears increased in volume, and Lindsey freaked out.
"Gee! Is Joelle dead?! Oh Jesus, please tell me she’s not dead, Gerard, please!"
"Please tell me she is!" exclaimed my mother.
"She died in my arms...I promised that I’d keep her safe. She was bleeding everywhere." Lindsey let out a noise that was indescribable.
"The bitch is really dead?"
"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH CHRISTINE ANDERSON!" screamed Lindsey.
"She’s not dead now. I restarted her heart. I made her stay alive. I forced her to breathe."
A paramedic came to him and looked at him. "Sir, you saved that girl’s life. But we should get you to a hospital. You’re in shock."
"I want to make sure she’s still breathing."
"Sir, you’re in shock. You need to come to the hospital and get that blood off of you. Please. I don’t want to force you."
"Gerard go."
"Why isn’t my daughter dead?"
"SHUT IT CHRISTINE."
"Joelle hates you. Why? Tell me why," said Gerard, looking at his wife before being helped up by the paramedic. There was blood on Lindsey’s dress and arms.
When Gerard was gone, Lindsey said, "I know but I’ll never say a word to you Gerard Way. Never."
The screen went black.
* * *
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God," whispered Frank Iero while everyone else looked at Gerard.
Gerard was whiter than a ghost, quite literally, as he just stared at the now blue telly. He was mouthing ‘Why not?’
"Lindsey Ann Ballato is a bitch on high-price rye," I bellowed, pushing a table to the ground. Ray hopped up, getting out of the way as quickly as possible. "And Christine Marie Anderson, my disgusting mother, is a slightly smaller bitch on sourdough! I hope they fucking die. You deserve the truth, so go find her and ask her what the fuck she did! YOU WERE COVERED IN IT!"
Gerard got there before I could throw the lamp at the window of the hotel. He grabbed it and held the porcelain at bay.
"You will hurt someone. Don’t do it, you’ll hurt Becky or Jamia or Alicia or any of the band. Give it to me, Joelle. Please give it to me."
I dropped it and Frank caught it.
The singer crushed me to him, trying to absorb my sobbing and the words "I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry" that were coming out of my mouth over and over again. Completely limp, he practically held me upright as I cried against his chest like a child, a God-forsaken child.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered again.
The room was completely silent.
I woke up screaming.
The thirty-one-year-old, who was beside me on the double wide couch, jolted awake before automatically trying to soothe me.
And he said the six words that made me realise that this really was my best friend... "I should have let you die..."
You know what?
That soothed me more than anything but Haven himself.
When I opened my eyes, two wide open hazel-green ones were staring at me.
"Hello Babysitter Gee."
"Hello Miss Joelle."
"What’s up?"
"Besides the sky?"
"Don’t be sarcastic."
"Well, I think I might die of oxygen deprivation."
I started, loosening my grip on his middle. "Fuck I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about."
"Sure I do."
"What? The only thing you have to be sorry about is trespassing on that Hamburg dude’s property and making out with Frank in the hallway."
I think all of the blood drained out of my body as I stopped breathing. After a couple seconds, Gerard tried to crack a smile and failed miserably. "Breathe Joelle!" he exclaimed after an awkward silence, shaking me softly, and I took a strangled breath.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." I began hyperventilating with worry.
"Hey, Joelle!" Gerard said, panicked. "Calm down! I’m not gonna say anything, even though I think it’s kinda fucked up. Calm down before you give yourself a heart attack."
"Oh, man, Gerard, it wasn’t supposed to happen. This old guy and his card and I couldn’t get...I didn’t really even know what was...Jamia will be so angry...that guy told him to...I made him...he-"
Gerard put one cold finger on my lips. I quelled my excuses and fears instantly.
"Joelle. Calm down. Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth." He took about three deep breaths with me and then continued. "Okay, first of all, will it happen again?"
"No! I swear! It was an accident!"
"Okay! Okay! Another deep breath!"
We both took three more deep breaths.
"Second of all, are you or Frankie going to talk to Jamia about it?"
"I want to, but I’m going to talk to him about it."
"I’ve already cornered Mr. Iero. I had to remind him that you were off limits. But he wanted to tell her too."
"I’m so sorry for doing that to him. He must be feeling really guilty..."
At this, the singer’s eyes avoided mine.
"And what does that mean?" I asked, beginning to hyperventilate again.
"No! It’s nothing, Joelle."
"He didn’t hurt himself, did he? Or something?"
"NO!" he said, and I began to calm down. But only a little bit.
"What does the shifty eyes mean, then?"
"Nothing, I promise."
"You’re a little liar."
He sighed. "I know."
"Then tell me."
"He’s not exactly guilty, if you must know the truth."
I stopped breathing. Gerard then forced me to breathe.
"He’s not-not guilty?! He cheated on his wife!" With a hysterical afterthought, I added, "With a minor!"
"That’s not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?!"
"I meant that Frank isn’t guilty. He told me that he’s been wanting to do that to you ever since he saw you for the first time." This all came out in a jumbled rush and I had to backtrack to remember if that was what he had really said.
"Wait...what?"
"But I have to ask...was that kiss for Frank or was it for his ‘twin’? Because that was the most intense moment I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes. I’ve never seen anything like that. And you had that look in your eyes that you used to have with him, so I just wanted to know... Were you looking at Frank Anthony Iero or Haven Raine Thomas?"
I looked at him, my arms still around him and his arms still around me. Entirely friendly, and nothing more. This was my best friend. And I couldn’t lie.
"Both."
He looked at me, searching for a lie. When he didn’t find one, he said, "If you don’t mind, clarify that Joey." His face grew a bit weary at that last word, my nickname that Haven used to call me.
"It’s fine. I really don’t mind you using it. But no one else. Please."
He nodded and then looked intently at me.
I took another forced deep breath and explained:
"At first, I was comparing him to Haven. He looks like Haven, he’s warm like Haven. And then in the middle, it was just Frank is like Haven, but it’s more about him. And then...he was Frank and he was so perfect. Wow. That’s kinda embarrassing."
The thirty-one-year-old just looked me in the eyes. We stayed like that for a while, entirely in a comfortable silence, and then his face lit up in a huge smile.
"It’s cute. It’s also what Frankie said, only without Haven and including Jamia."
"I’m not really anything like her."
"You have quite a few similarities with her, you know."
"Everyone has similarities with everyone."
"Yeah, I guess."
I grinned. Winner!
"You just got a total ‘I’M A WINNER’ look in your eyes."
I nodded. "You’re pretty good, Way."
"Why thanks!"
"Bite me."
He bit me on the finger. I gasped, and then began attacking him with my finger.
"Make my poor finger feel bweeeettttterrrrrrr, Geeeee!" I wailed, and there was laughter. I knew that it was Ray and Frank by their laughs, but at the moment I really didn’t care.
"Oh shush. Baby." He proceeded to kiss the finger, and I huffed, pouting heavily. I sat up and crossed my arms, glaring at the floor. I was also trying to fight a smile.
"Oh, jeez. You’re so silly," said the singer with a roll of his eyes. I couldn’t help but to smile at that and I pushed him off the couch.
Then I looked at Ray and Frank, blushing a little bit at the latter. Thank God that the room was getting dark.
"Soundcheck’s in a couple of minutes. We gotta go Gee," mentioned Ray, while Frank looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. He had his guitar over his shoulder while Ray was holding his, occasionally strumming on it.
"Come on dork," said Gerard, and he hopped up, dragging me with him.
"Impatient little dude. Slow down, Jesus Christ!"
The thirty-one-year-old grinned at me, dropped my elbow in exchange for Ray’s and the four of us began walking down the dark hallway to go to soundcheck.
It was mostly filled with Gerard and Ray blabbing while Frank and I tried to secretly look at each other and getting caught. But when the lead guitarist and the singer turned a corner, Frank stopped me and turned me to him.
For a minute, there was a tense silence, and then he said, "Do you mind?"
I didn’t even have to think about it. "Of course not."
He proceeded to kiss me fully on the mouth, his lips warm and sweet as they moved with mine. His hands were already pulling me towards him, and they fell on my hips. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him harder against my moving lips. Then, suddenly, his thumbs hooked under the hem of my shirt, rubbing circles into the pressure points on my pelvis bone.
The touch of skin on skin on such an area was agonising, and I gasped, losing my control. I pushed him against the wall this time and his hands went from my skin to my hips and to touching my thighs. His fingers inched from the back to the insides of my legs as my hands snaked up his shirt, feeling his shivering chest. I disconnected my mouth with his and began kissing and nibbling at his Scorpius tattoo and sucking on his earlobe. At this, he let out a noise that was indescribable, and he began taking it to the next level...
His middle finger began stroking me hard through the cover of my jeans. I tensed, gasping for air as he tortured me with my raging hormones. I was starting to let out little profanities now, along with his name sometimes, and he took my willing mouth again.
Wanting him to feel the agony I was in, I proceeded to grind my hips into his erection, causing the rhythm guitarist to moan and I took my hands out of his shirt to mess with the button on his jeans. Now his breathing was haggard and he was moaning as I unzipped his trousers and began snaking my hands down to grab a hold on his hard on.
Frank Anthony Iero yelled out, actually yelled out my name and pushed my body onto my hand and his thick erection. I began stroking him hard and rubbing the tip. It was moist, so he was about to go.
There was no one coming. No one at all. It was completely barren, but frankly I didn’t give a good goddam in Hell.
I extracted my hand and looked at the panting man in front of me. I told him with my eyes what I was planning to do, and he looked up and down the hallways. His eyes widened and he grabbed me, quickly leading me to a door that read "Cleaning Only" and pushed me inside, automatically locking the door and checking to see if we were all alone. When it was clarified that we were, he practically attacked me while I led him to another wall, and I pulled off his shirt. I kissed him all the way down, finding myself on my knees and in front of him.
"Joelle, y-you don’t-don’t have to," he gasped as I kissed the fabric of his boxers.
"Shut up," I said simply, pulling his erection free and immediately taking it into my mouth.
Frank began withering against me, stroking my hair with tense hands and moaning uncontrollably. I put my hands on his thighs and sucked him hard, enticing a low yell from the rhythm guitarist.
With my hands, I told him that it was okay to move around a little. He finally began rolling his hips to push himself deeper into my mouth and his hands were grasping my hair.
"Jo-you...I’m-"
Instead of listening to his warnings, I sucked him harder than ever, and he exploded in my mouth, crying out and drawing tight like a bowstring. I swallowed everything that came from him as he rode out his orgasm, and when he was finished, I kissed his tip and then helped him as he slid down to the floor. He was still gasping but was trying to slow his breathing down, and I just snuggled close to his bare chest as he held me laxly against him.
When he was slightly in better control of himself, he whispered, "Thank you."
I smiled against his skin and murmured back, "You’re welcome."
He lightly chuckled then sighed deeply in contentment.
"That was really bad of us," he said softly against my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his middle.
"I know. I promised Gerard that nothing like a simple touch of the lips would happen again."
"Well, that’s fucked over times a million. And Gerard’s pretty damn smart. He’s probably got everyone believing that we doubled back so I could get my picks or something."
I lifted my head, smiled at him lightly, and then he kissed me, tasting himself. He sighed again, and then I began zipping him back up while he pulled back on his T-shirt.
"Man, and now I’m all tired, but I’ve got to go jump around on stage for a while. That kinda blows."
I laughed.
"But it’s not exactly fair. You didn’t get anything out of that."
"I got plenty out of that. Trust in that, Frank."
"Frankie," he automatically said, and we both chuckled.
"C’mon," I said, and we stood up, him a little weakly.
Then:
"Come on, guys. We haven’t got all fucking day!" yelled Gerard’s all-tell voice. "I’ve got Pansy, so let’s go! Surely a little kissing doesn’t take this long, you little LIARS!"
Frank and I started laughing at the exasperated tone to his voice and we came out of the cleaning closet, to the singer’s surprise.
"How did you get in there?!"
"Well," I said, grinning, "I reached my arm out, clenched my hand on the handle, turned it open-"
Gerard rolled his eyes, staring at the slightly wobbling Frank Iero. Frank was in his own little world, so he didn’t really notice the thirty-one-year-old’s eyes on him, but I sure as hell did.
"Gerard..." I warned, but I was too late as the lightbulb in his head popped on and he finally got it.
"Joelle!" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, and I coloured, staring at the print on the floor as we walked to the lobby. "You made him go off! Are you out of your mind?! Now he’s gonna be all tired and shit and you promised! You said that nothing else would happen! I was willing to look over the fact that you’d probably kiss again, but giving him head is insane! Thank God Jamia has already taken off with the others! She’ll know in a fucking heartbeat!"
"Sorry," I whispered back, probably as red as a tomato.
Frank was oblivious to this whole exchange of words.
Arriving at the lobby of the hotel cut off Gerard’s next set of words. His jaw was clenched as he watched Frank shuffle out the door and collapse in the remaining blue Navigators. Gerard shot me a look that said ‘You really suck, but what am I gonna do about it now?’ and climbed into the driver’s seat, with me following in the passengers seat.
"It’s a thirty minute drive, Frankie, so don’t fall asleep," said Gerard, but Frank was already dozing in the backseat.
"Joelle..." started the singer, but I interrupted.
"Look, I’m sorry. It just sort of started out sort of innocent and then I couldn’t stop. I wanted to do it, Gerard."
He was silent for a moment before reaching over my lap and pulling out a pack of gum from the glove box. "Take one...or two," he added as an afterthought.
I took one and thanked him. He threw it back in there after taking a piece for himself.
There was a good ten minutes before anyone even spoke, and it was me who broke the silence. "Are you mad at me?"
He automatically looked guilty and miserable. "Oh God, Joelle. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole."
I tried to smile with confidence, trying to remember when I had actually cared what anyone besides Haven thought about me. I couldn’t remember. And I was really worried about what Gerard thought. He was my best friend.
His eyes widened. "You actually give a shit about what I say? I never thought I’d see the day!"
I avoided his eye and stared at my clenched hands.
I guess he finally realised that I wasn’t joking. "Joelle, I don’t know what to say."
"So you aren’t?"
"I could never be mad at you, Joelle. I don’t expect you to completely believe that, but I couldn’t. Never ever never."
I looked into his eyes as they shifted back and forth between the road, my face, and his rearview mirror.
"I really wish that you wouldn’t have done it, though. I mean, Jamia’s a good girl, Joey, and this is an affair, you know! If the press or the fans or Jamia find out, then his whole career and his marriage could tank. And you’re a minor, to top it all off. He could go to jail."
"I know."
He looked at me, edging the speed to about ninety as he hit the freeway. And then he smiled.
"If you’re gonna keep doing this Joey, you need to keep it more private than a cleaning closet on the third floor of a five star hotel."
At this, I couldn’t help but to snort in amusement. He laughed with me as he speeded to over a hundred.
"Do I need to drive?"
"Can you drive?" Gerard asked.
"I’m only eighteen." I said sarcastically. I then scoffed, "I can drive. And I won’t kill us all."
"You don’t know where to go!"
"Neither one of you know where to go," remarked Frank from the back seat, and then his head popped in the centre of Gerard and me. Gerard jumped but didn’t lose control while I began laughing at the thirty-one-year-old’s reaction. Frank grinned out of the corner of my eye.
"Do I need to drive?" he asked, while Gerard scoffed.
"Sorry, Frankie Wankie, but I’ve got it."
Frank flipped him off, smiled at me softly, and then leaned back.
"So...uh...where is everyone?"
"They took off to soundcheck. The fans of My Chemical Romance are going to riot soon while their two most favourite men in the world are missing. The wonders of teen-age fangirls and Ferard."
I got blank looks at that.
"Umm, do I want to know?" asked Gerard, and I laughed.
"Probably not. But shit, Haven’s sister Aranea used to write that stuff on that one website...oh hell, what is it called? LiveJournal, that’s it. Ferard, Ferard, Ferard, and some more Ferard. I do have to admit that some of it was pretty hot."
"Okay. I’ll take the bait. What the fuck is Ferard, and what in the hell is hot about it?" asked Frank.
I summoned up my thoughts as I thought about how to say it correctly.
"Ferard is slash fanfiction-" Gerard and Frank groaned but leaned towards me to listen. Curious little buggers. "-that consists around the pairing of you and you. Frank and Gerard. F and then -erard. Ferard. Anyway, some of it is fluff, and some is just chapter fic, but most is just NC-17 stories about you two fucking each other senseless. Haven thought it was a load of crap, but Aranea loved it. She got off on that shit. She used to make me proofread some of her writings before she’d post it, and I thought some of that was pretty damn good."
For a moment, there was deliberating silence, but then Frank said, "That’s kinda gross."
"Oh, boo. You know you’d like it," retorted Gerard, and Frank snorted.
"Yeah, I’m such a little closet case."
"There’s nothing like a little butt sex to get you off," I mentioned, and the two men erupted into hysterical laughter. I joined in with a grin.
When it had calmed down a bit, I blew a bubble and Gerard reached over and popped it with his index finger.
"Ugh, that’s sick, Gerard."
"Popping bubbles is fun, Joey."
"Popping bubbles that aren’t in people’s mouths is okay. Gum in Joey’s mouth...BAD GEE!"
"AHHHHH!!!! GEEEE SOOOOOOORRRRRRYYYYYYYY!!!!" yelled Gerard, and Frank held his hands over his ears while I laughed like crazy. Gerard’s hand ruffled my hair as he did his giggle-chuckle-thing, and I giggled and groaned, pushing his hand away from me.
We pulled in the parking lot of the Coors Ampitheatre, and Gerard concentrated on not running any of the screaming fans over. They were everywhere this time, and Frank just sort of waved at them while Gerard frowned. I just smiled a little shakily until we were through.
By the time we had parked the car in the midst of all kinds of running around and yelling by the crew, Brian Schecter was at our Navigator door, looking murderous.
Gerard and Frank groaned and then opened their doors.
"GERARD ARTHUR WAY, FRANK ANTHONY IERO, AND JOELLE ANDERSON, WHERE IN THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
Brian’s voice seemed to reach the fans, for they watched at the gate, a bit silent and taking pictures with a renewed frenzy. Even the crew had stopped what they are doing.
"JOELLE’S FAULT!" yelled Gerard, and I screamed, "BAD BABYSITTER GEE!!!"
I proceeded to chase him around the parking lot, in and out of the crew, and everyone began to laugh when I jumped on his back and fake strangled him.
"Joey!!!" Gerard whined, and suddenly he had thrown me around, lightly tearing me off and grinning at me. "Gerard stronger than Joey. Gerard cooler than Joey."
"Oh boo, you dork." I then proceeded to give him a high five.
I looked at Frank, who was looking discreetly at me.
"GET IN THERE FOR SOUNDCHECK BEFORE I KILL YOU IDIOTS!" yelled Brian, and Gerard and I sulked, stomping like children in the arena.
Five minutes later, and the three of us were on stage. There was a cheer as people got their favourite men back, and Gerard and I just stood there, glaring at the fuming Brian.
"Pick up microphone. Sing," demanded Brian.
Gerard lost his temper. "If I want to fucking sing, I’ll do it in my own sweet time. Go get laid."
"Do it backwards-" I said.
"-forwards-"
"-side-to-fucking-side-"
"-up top-"
"-or bottom-"
"-just get rid of that sexual tension-"
"-and stop being such a blowhard."
We glared as there was silence and Brian just gaped.
Then he turned on his heel and stormed off.
Gerard looked at me and I looked back. The rest of My Chemical Romance was paused over their instruments while everyone else was shocked into silence.
"I want to go swimming!" whined Gerard after a while. I grinned and looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"You just got a tan, dude."
His nose scrunched up as he grabbed his microphone. He mumbled, "Tan’s suck" and it echoed over the stadium.
"You check; I’m too pissed to sing right now."
He tossed me the mike and I snorted. "Go strangle a kitten. Or your darling wife."
"Joelle..."
"Alright, alright. Sorry, Babysitter Gee." There was laughter at that.
I found a mike stand, stole Ray’s guitar, and then said, "Hey Mr. Way. Listen to Joelle Thomas belt out her tunes, bitch!"
He laughed and turned around.
"Self-righteous suicide, take one..." I murmured in the mike and then began playing the guitar, singing the lyrics to Chop Suey! by System of a Down, while some of the crowd sang the backup vocals.
(We're rolling suicide)
Wake up (Wake up)
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup (Hide the scars to fade away the)
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table
You wanted to,
Why don't think you trust,
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to DIE!!!
Wake up (Wake up)
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the (Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup)
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table
You wanted to,
Why don't think you trust,
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to die
Father (Father), Father (Father), Father (Father), Father (Father)!
Father into your hands, I commend my spirit,
Father, into your hands,
Why have you forsaken me,
In your eyes forsaken me,
In your thoughts forsaken me,
In your heart forsaken, me oh!
Trust in my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die...
When the song ended, there was a burst of applause from the audience that seemed to have expanded in the two plus minute song. Gerard, Frank, Mikey, Ray, and Bob (although he came a little late because he was behind the drums) all attacked me in a hug, and I could hear Jamia, Alicia, and especially Becky screaming in the background.
I couldn’t stop laughing! I was grinning like an idiot, which cracked me up even more, and I felt happier than I had in a very long time.
"Joey, that was amazing...congratulations. Everyone loves you right now!" whispered Gerard in my ear, his breath tickling and cold.
"Yeah, but does my best friend?" I asked, my heart jumping for the moment in the apprehension of waiting for his response.
He looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. Everyone paused and looked confused.
And then, suddenly, he pulled me into a big hug and even lifted me up off my feet.
"SERIOUSLY?! HOLY SHIT, JOELLE! BEST FRIEND! YAY! GEE LOVES JOEY! YAY!" He spun me around in a circle and I clenched my arms around his neck for dear life. The other four scattered in fear of getting hit by a stray foot.
"Gerard!" I gasped, and he began laughing like crazy, letting me down. We both swayed and then fell over, giggling like mad and gasping for air.
Then Frank Iero came into my vision and I smirked at him, while he held out a tattooed arm and helped me up. We held on to each other a little longer than appropriate, but no one seemed to notice.
"Sing a duet with me, Joey," said the thirty-one-year-old to me, and I grinned.
"Alrighty then, Babysitter Gee." I picked up Ray’s mike while Brian came in again.
"Soundcheck is over. Get off the stage. Everyone that didn’t pay extra is going to be allowed admittance."
"Get off the stage," Gerard and I said together. Brian opened his mouth to retort, but Bob interrupted. "Schecter, I’d get lost before Gerard impales you with a teacup."
Unwillingly, the singer and I snorted, and unwillingly, Brian left the stage.
The stadium began filling up drastically.
After about ten minutes of deliberation, Gerard and I decided to play something that was completely the opposite of what Mr. Gerard Way was used to.
Of course, the thirty-one-year-old had heard of Dreaming by SOAD, and had fiddled around with it. I took a seat on the ground, and started singing to the almost completely full and gaining stadium.
Conquest to the lover,
And your love to the fire,
Permanence unfolding in the absolute.
Forgiveness is
The ultimate sacrifice.
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
The pictures of time and space are rearranged,
In this little piece of typical tragedy.
Justified Candy!
Brandy for the nerves,
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
I forgot to
I forgot to let you know that...
Justified Candy!
Brandy for the nerves,
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
Conquest to the lover,
And your love to the fire,
Permanence unfolding in the absolute.
Forgiveness is
The ultimate sacrifice.
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
Generation..............
What is in us that turns a deaf ear to the cries of human suffering?!!!
WOAH!!!!!!!
Suffering, suffering now!
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
Generation..........
Gerard’s voice harmonised with mine well, considering they were pretty similar, or according to Mikey. He pretty much did that yelping thing he did during Daron Malakian’s higher vocal work, and my voice was more grittier than his.
But regardless, the full ampitheatre was screaming their goddam lungs out. It was pretty damn good too, what we did together, but it would never match Serj Tankian and Daron Malakian in System of a Down, virtually the best fucking band the world.
After that, I began breaking out in Bert McCracken’s part in Under Pressure, the studio version by The Used and My Chemical Romance. Gerard and the rest of the band accompanied me while the crowd cheered. And when we had rang of that last note, Gerard picked me up over his shoulder and pretty much screamed, "GEE OWNS!" in the microphone, getting an earful of screaming.
Then the band was gone and The Bled was opening.
After a good forty-five minutes of The Bled, My Chemical Romance came on. I was sitting in between Alicia and Becky, and not acting any different around the girl who’s husband I had given a blow job to in a cleaning closet. That would’ve raised suspicion, and I wanted to talk to Gerard and Frank before I went and tried to tell all of my guilt to Jamia Nestor-Iero.
Gerard did his usual chicken dance shit and asked an ecstatic audience "Who wants my underwear?" among all of the other psycho things he usually accomplished in the concerts. Of course, there was that moment where that one fan, some crazy kid, had gotten passed the security and up no-man’s land, climbed onto the stage, and then tried to grab a crazed Gerard. Before security had taken
the teen-ager, Gerard proceeded to dance with him around Frank Iero.
Oh yeah, and that one girl got trampled and her nose broken into a mushy mess.
But other than that, it was a successful concert. Gerard blew a kiss to the four girls in the VIP area that had been reserved to the side for us and then waltzed off the stage with Bob. Mikey and Frank did some freaky bow thing while Ray started head banging and jumping on a yelling Mikey.
Automatically, people began either trying to get passed the mob to get out of the ampitheatre or they began swarming the little area that was being protected by the security for us four. Alicia and Jamia jumped out of their seats in fear of hands grabbing them.
They were screaming for autographs and that they loved us. They wanted to hang out with us. They wanted to party. They wanted to meet the band. They wanted concert tickets. They wanted Gerard’s babies and Mikey’s glasses. They wanted a lock of Ray’s fro. They wanted Bob to sing for them. They wanted Frank. They wanted Gerard.
And when Gerard and Mikey showed up, along with a severely exhausted Frank leaning on Bob’s strong frame, the hysterical fans went ever more insane.
"Frank, you alright?" asked Jamia, and he smiled at her. "Of course. I’m just a little tired."
If I hadn’t have been part of the reason he was so tired, then I would’ve been fooled by the lie. It was pretty damn convincing.
Jamia, successfully adhered, helped Bob take Frank out to a Navigator. Becky followed, and Alicia began dragging Mikey and Christy out, looking equally concerned.
Gerard and I, left alone now in front of all of these crazed fans, looked at each other and began laughing hysterically, falling all over each other and gasping for breath.
The crowd actually quieted dramatically, but we didn’t really know it until our laughter began dying down. By this time, we were both breathing with difficulty and wiping the tears out of our eyes.
"Oops," said the thirty-one-year-old, and I snorted.
"Oops? You dork."
"Not a dork!" said Gerard.
"Dork."
"Bite me."
"Where and how hard?" There were longing sighs at that from the crushing fans.
"HEY! Not fair!" retorted the singer.
"Okay. So where? I can draw blood you know."
"Prove it!"
I leaned over the chair and bared my teeth. "HOLY SHIT!" yelled Gerard, lifting his arms to block himself.
"You told me to prove it," I mentioned.
"Exaggeration!"
"You don’t know how to exaggerate, then."
"You just can’t take a joke!"
"MIKEY!" I randomly bellowed, and he smacked me.
"XOXO!"
"CHOP SUEY!"
"HUMAN POSITION!"
Everyone laughed at Gerard’s comment. I snorted again.
"BRIAN SCHECTER!"
We laughed again.
"Bob likes Becky, Bob likes Becky!" I sang, and Gerard joined in while the crowd looked mutinous.
After a minute, Gerard and I both said, "Peppermint Mocha, hot with whipped cream, and mocha on top!" before booking it out of the station.
But it was too late.
Author:
alexandraxjean / AlexandraxJean
Pairing: Gerard/female, Frank/female (Gerard/Lyn-Z hinted)
Rating: NC-17 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.
A/N: Yeah, I know. Oops. Sorry. I've been kinda over-obsessing with a certain fanfiction called Petals in the Wind by
sunshines_rain. If you get the chance, read that bloody storey. It's WICKED. I've been going crazy waiting for this new update to the point of checking it every five minutes. Yeah, I'm obsessed. That chick can WRITE...and draw too. Check out her art.
And then I've been writing like crazy on something else. So yeah...I hope you don't hate me too much. *shrinks away* ANYWAY...this chapter is where the smutty-drama starts. And it's getting pretty fucked up in my head.
Oh yeah---and I finally figured out how to do all this 'LiveJournalCut' shiet, so it's all good. *grins*
Well, here's the next chapter!
Chapter Six
Frank and I separated very quickly. Of course we weren’t completely cold of each other, but one look at each other we were taking off, running away, running towards the person who had seen that...that mistake.
"Jesus Christ, what if that was..."
"Jamia’s outside with Becky I think. They said that they would go straight up to the rooms and shower."
"God, God, God..."
I didn’t who I thought it was, but for everyone’s sake, I really hoped it was Gerard. He wouldn’t approve but he would get it a little bit. Actually, no. As long as it wasn’t a fan or a reporter or Jamia, it wouldn’t be bad...
Right?
"I’m sorry," he whispered in mid-step, and I tried to snort with no success.
"Frank, it wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was mine."
"It was not."
"Was too."
"You sound like Gee, Joelle. You and him are creeping me out. You’re twins."
"No. I wasn’t anything like H-"
"Huh?"
"Never mind. You know, I don’t think I’ll take Mr. Way on his offer. Knifes are pretty, don’t you think?"
As I said that, we came out of the lobby and met the rest of the group. But Frank didn’t really seem to pay attention. He stopped, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me hard.
"No they aren’t Joelle Anderson. Don’t you say that. Don’t even think about it."
"Yes, Mother."
"Goddamnit," he exclaimed, dropping me and storming off to the My Chemical Romance group.
Everyone was looking at me with bewildered expressions.
"Never you mind. I want a television, and I want you guys to see something. Please. Watch him with me."
I stared at Gerard, who got what I meant and began leading the group to the hotel room.
* * *
My face came on the screen. I was grinning.
"Testing, testing, one two three. I think it’s workin’ dudes and dudettes! This is bitchin’ Joey."
I smiled at the director of our little film. "You’re cute."
"I am weird, what’re you talking about girl?" A strong hand came into the screen and ruffled my hair.
"Haven, you’re going to drop the video camera."
"Oh! Oops!"
I snorted. Haven righted the camera.
"Okay, people who are watching a masterpiece in the making, this is Carmen."
"HAVEN!"
There was a deep laugh, and I reached out and grabbed the camera.
Haven’s face filled up the screen and he covered his face with his hands, groaning.
"You’re prettier to look at."
"NEVER!" he yelled, and then attacked the camera.
"Yes huh."
"Nuh uh!"
"You’re a dork."
"I’m just challenged, Joey."
I began laughing and then righted myself, aiming the camera at him.
He winked at me and then got really serious.
"Okay, so I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo of Jack Skellington, but I’m scared of needles."
"Pansy," I called out, and he laughed.
"I know, I know. So anyway, I’ve been thinking about getting that Henna shit."
"Don’t say shit. Shit is a shitty word, Haven Raine."
He flipped the camera off.
Everyone laughed at this sight. It was so much like Frank. He even laughed himself.
"That’s totally not school appropriate, you know."
"And do you think I’m going to let little Bobby Fit watch this? I’ll be lucky as hell if anyone sees this."
"I’m watching it. One day I’ll let your twin watch it, how ‘bout that?"
He grinned widely and pushed a fist in the air. "Frank Anthony Iero is God." Everyone looked at Frank as he watched with open eyes at his double.
"God is overrated, Haven."
"God is urban legend. Did you know that Satan is my homie."
I laughed offscreen. I laughed onscreen as well.
"Homie? Jeez. Nice, Haven Thomas."
"Why thank you love."
"Bite me."
"Ewwwwwww..."
"What if I did this?"
His eyes got wide. He bit his lip and watched me. I remember touching the inside of my thigh, really high. Poor little Haven. I laughed and everyone looked at me before turning back when Haven began speaking again.
"God, Joelle Thomas. I’m going to jump you if you don’t stop it."
"Lovely."
"I’m supposed to be making an amazing movie!"
"And this is!"
"Gah."
I laughed, zooming in closer to his face.
"Alright, alright, so I went to your house today and your mother said that she wished I’d fall in a pit of quicksand."
"Nice. I’ve never heard that particular insult before."
He grinned. "Yeah, me neither. Usually it’s a lot more violent than that."
"Remember when she said that she would throw you into the sewers of New York and let the giant rats and alligators eat you alive?"
"Yeah, and then she mentioned that she’d give me a flesh-eating virus before so she could get rid of three types of vermin in the New York underground."
"I didn’t hear that part."
"Yeah. I told her that they would eat her too before she even got two steps away."
"You did not."
"I know. I said, ‘That’s great, Mrs. Anderson.’"
"Classic."
"Not really. I wish that Gerard Way would come to our wedding. Do you think that Lindsey will approve?"
"All you ever talk about is me and Gerard Way. I should go kidnap him, cut him in half, and then cut myself in half, and then sow us together. You’d be in Heaven!" I exclaimed sarcastically.
He hopped with inhuman grace and I saw Jamia blush. She was staring at the taller double of her husband with amazement and definite attraction. All of the other females were looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world. Because while Haven looked like Frank, he was completely different. His secret glittered in his large eyes.
"Gerard Way is perfect just the way he is."
"And so is Daron Malakian."
"Now, he’s God."
"He’s my God. You can have Gerard Way."
"I don’t want anyone but you..." he whispered. He approached me in the video, and let the screen. The camera fell out of my hands as Haven kissed me.
"I love you Joelle Thomas."
"Haven," I said simply.
He picked up the camera and zoomed on my pink face.
"This is my wife. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."
I blushed harder.
"She’s gorgeous. And she’s thinking about Frankie, aren’t you?"
With a squeal, I jumped him and the camera flew again, falling on us a couple of feet away, on the ground. I was on top of him, and I looked healthier above his beautiful form. He was my medicine.
I stopped struggling and he said, "The video is ruined, if not the camera."
"Then so be it, my love."
I kissed him, and was surrounded by his warmth. After a while, we broke apart.
"You pretending I’m-"
"I am going to annihilate you, Haven."
"Joey’s gotta crush, Joey’s got a crush..." he began singing in a melodious tune, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, on you."
"NUH UH!" he yelled, and then flipped me over, tickling me.
"Hey!" exclaimed a voice and Haven popped up, looking around.
"You aren’t supposed to be in here, kids!" the voice bellowed, and we hopped up, grabbing the camera and running for our lives. The camera bobbed as it filmed the grassy ground and the trees. The screen showed a NO TRESPASSING sign and everyone began laughing in the hotel room. You could hear the shouter and the even footfalls in the video, and when there was an outburst of hysterical laughter on the video, everyone laughed harder.
"We’ve only been there, what, how many times? A bazillion times? And now they catch us. Wow. That’s pretty stellar," said Haven in his melodic voice.
"You’re a dork. Mr. Hamburg is going to know it was us you know."
"Who cares? Damn, I have one fucker of a headache."
I flinched horribly at the mention of this. Gerard flinched just as heavily as I did. Everyone else looked back and forth between us.
"I’m sorry." My expression grew troubled as he banged on his temple.
"It’s alright. I just don’t...Jesus Christ. My brain is on fire, Joey." His expression, showing small amount of fear, looked at me and we stared before he doubled over, coughing up red. It was his blood, and it was coming out of his mouth, his ears.
"HAVEN!"
"Joelle, call an ambulance," he choked, laying down as his nose started to trickle. His hands were clenched, holding his head in a death grip. The camera laid forgotten, filming as I called 911 on my cell phone and cried as I held Haven close. He was so pale...
The camera switched. Now the video showed Haven’s face, sunken in, as he played the guitar. His My Chemical Romance shirt was dark against his pale skin, and his hair was gone. Everyone looked shocked and saddened. I heard Jamia sniffle, a tear falling."Joey, come in here, love."
I jumped, caught. I walked to Haven and sat down, watching him as he began playing Cancer by My Chemical Romance. I laid the camera on the piano, and the picture showed both of us.
"Haven, I wish you wouldn’t."
He stopped playing and looked at me. His brown-hazel eyes were filled with secrets.
"Haven?!" called a voice, and I called back, "He’s in here, Mrs. Thomas."
An older woman came into the view, and she was carrying a glass of water and a handful of pills.
"Here you go honey, take ‘em all, okay?"
"Yes," he said.
She left and Haven looked at the pills. There were at least ten there. I knew in reality that there was thirteen different pills in his hands. Jamia covered her mouth. Frank wrapped an arm around her and looked at me.
"Joey, I think I’m addicted to the Oxy."
"No you aren’t."
"Well, you know what, I guess not."
His eyes were lying. I whispered in the real world, "Your eyes are lying..."
He downed the pills all at once and began chewing them up. Everyone in the room grimaced at the fact that he didn’t grimace. Except me.
I watched him. He never touched the water.
"Haven, when are you going to die?"
He automatically looked horrified and he quickly stood up, swaying a little bit from being weak. He got down on his knees and held me close.
"Carmen Joelle Thomas, I am not going to die soon."
"Yes you will. I know you will. Look at you. You’re dying."
"I’m fighting. This Glioblastoma Multiforme is a tricky little bugger, you know that. But I’ll be alive for a lot longe-"
It cut off again, and Lindsey was in the camera, in her black dress from the funeral. She was pale, but dry eyed.
"Christine Anderson, turn that camera off!" demanded Lindsey.
I gasped as Gerard looked at me. Over the television, he said "Let’s turn it off. No one needs to see this."
Gerard Way stepped into the shot, followed by at least five paramedics and two police officers. He was vermillion in colour...my blood. His left hand was twitching so violently that it had a mind of its own. His eyes were cloudy and his black hair was clumped and sticking to his face. He had clearly taken a bloodbath.
"Gerard..." Lindsey started, but she never finished. Gerard collapsed to his knees and began heaving, his posture so tense it was shaking.
My mother filmed while giggling happily.
When he had finished emptying his stomach and then some, he just collapsed on his wife and began sobbing in her lap. The dry eyed Lindsey Ann Ballato just stroked his hair.
"Did my daughter die?" asked my mother, and Lindsey shot her a look of utter loathing. Gerard’s tears increased in volume, and Lindsey freaked out.
"Gee! Is Joelle dead?! Oh Jesus, please tell me she’s not dead, Gerard, please!"
"Please tell me she is!" exclaimed my mother.
"She died in my arms...I promised that I’d keep her safe. She was bleeding everywhere." Lindsey let out a noise that was indescribable.
"The bitch is really dead?"
"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH CHRISTINE ANDERSON!" screamed Lindsey.
"She’s not dead now. I restarted her heart. I made her stay alive. I forced her to breathe."
A paramedic came to him and looked at him. "Sir, you saved that girl’s life. But we should get you to a hospital. You’re in shock."
"I want to make sure she’s still breathing."
"Sir, you’re in shock. You need to come to the hospital and get that blood off of you. Please. I don’t want to force you."
"Gerard go."
"Why isn’t my daughter dead?"
"SHUT IT CHRISTINE."
"Joelle hates you. Why? Tell me why," said Gerard, looking at his wife before being helped up by the paramedic. There was blood on Lindsey’s dress and arms.
When Gerard was gone, Lindsey said, "I know but I’ll never say a word to you Gerard Way. Never."
The screen went black.
* * *
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God," whispered Frank Iero while everyone else looked at Gerard.
Gerard was whiter than a ghost, quite literally, as he just stared at the now blue telly. He was mouthing ‘Why not?’
"Lindsey Ann Ballato is a bitch on high-price rye," I bellowed, pushing a table to the ground. Ray hopped up, getting out of the way as quickly as possible. "And Christine Marie Anderson, my disgusting mother, is a slightly smaller bitch on sourdough! I hope they fucking die. You deserve the truth, so go find her and ask her what the fuck she did! YOU WERE COVERED IN IT!"
Gerard got there before I could throw the lamp at the window of the hotel. He grabbed it and held the porcelain at bay.
"You will hurt someone. Don’t do it, you’ll hurt Becky or Jamia or Alicia or any of the band. Give it to me, Joelle. Please give it to me."
I dropped it and Frank caught it.
The singer crushed me to him, trying to absorb my sobbing and the words "I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry" that were coming out of my mouth over and over again. Completely limp, he practically held me upright as I cried against his chest like a child, a God-forsaken child.
"I’m so sorry," I whispered again.
The room was completely silent.
I woke up screaming.
The thirty-one-year-old, who was beside me on the double wide couch, jolted awake before automatically trying to soothe me.
And he said the six words that made me realise that this really was my best friend... "I should have let you die..."
You know what?
That soothed me more than anything but Haven himself.
When I opened my eyes, two wide open hazel-green ones were staring at me.
"Hello Babysitter Gee."
"Hello Miss Joelle."
"What’s up?"
"Besides the sky?"
"Don’t be sarcastic."
"Well, I think I might die of oxygen deprivation."
I started, loosening my grip on his middle. "Fuck I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about."
"Sure I do."
"What? The only thing you have to be sorry about is trespassing on that Hamburg dude’s property and making out with Frank in the hallway."
I think all of the blood drained out of my body as I stopped breathing. After a couple seconds, Gerard tried to crack a smile and failed miserably. "Breathe Joelle!" he exclaimed after an awkward silence, shaking me softly, and I took a strangled breath.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." I began hyperventilating with worry.
"Hey, Joelle!" Gerard said, panicked. "Calm down! I’m not gonna say anything, even though I think it’s kinda fucked up. Calm down before you give yourself a heart attack."
"Oh, man, Gerard, it wasn’t supposed to happen. This old guy and his card and I couldn’t get...I didn’t really even know what was...Jamia will be so angry...that guy told him to...I made him...he-"
Gerard put one cold finger on my lips. I quelled my excuses and fears instantly.
"Joelle. Calm down. Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth." He took about three deep breaths with me and then continued. "Okay, first of all, will it happen again?"
"No! I swear! It was an accident!"
"Okay! Okay! Another deep breath!"
We both took three more deep breaths.
"Second of all, are you or Frankie going to talk to Jamia about it?"
"I want to, but I’m going to talk to him about it."
"I’ve already cornered Mr. Iero. I had to remind him that you were off limits. But he wanted to tell her too."
"I’m so sorry for doing that to him. He must be feeling really guilty..."
At this, the singer’s eyes avoided mine.
"And what does that mean?" I asked, beginning to hyperventilate again.
"No! It’s nothing, Joelle."
"He didn’t hurt himself, did he? Or something?"
"NO!" he said, and I began to calm down. But only a little bit.
"What does the shifty eyes mean, then?"
"Nothing, I promise."
"You’re a little liar."
He sighed. "I know."
"Then tell me."
"He’s not exactly guilty, if you must know the truth."
I stopped breathing. Gerard then forced me to breathe.
"He’s not-not guilty?! He cheated on his wife!" With a hysterical afterthought, I added, "With a minor!"
"That’s not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?!"
"I meant that Frank isn’t guilty. He told me that he’s been wanting to do that to you ever since he saw you for the first time." This all came out in a jumbled rush and I had to backtrack to remember if that was what he had really said.
"Wait...what?"
"But I have to ask...was that kiss for Frank or was it for his ‘twin’? Because that was the most intense moment I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes. I’ve never seen anything like that. And you had that look in your eyes that you used to have with him, so I just wanted to know... Were you looking at Frank Anthony Iero or Haven Raine Thomas?"
I looked at him, my arms still around him and his arms still around me. Entirely friendly, and nothing more. This was my best friend. And I couldn’t lie.
"Both."
He looked at me, searching for a lie. When he didn’t find one, he said, "If you don’t mind, clarify that Joey." His face grew a bit weary at that last word, my nickname that Haven used to call me.
"It’s fine. I really don’t mind you using it. But no one else. Please."
He nodded and then looked intently at me.
I took another forced deep breath and explained:
"At first, I was comparing him to Haven. He looks like Haven, he’s warm like Haven. And then in the middle, it was just Frank is like Haven, but it’s more about him. And then...he was Frank and he was so perfect. Wow. That’s kinda embarrassing."
The thirty-one-year-old just looked me in the eyes. We stayed like that for a while, entirely in a comfortable silence, and then his face lit up in a huge smile.
"It’s cute. It’s also what Frankie said, only without Haven and including Jamia."
"I’m not really anything like her."
"You have quite a few similarities with her, you know."
"Everyone has similarities with everyone."
"Yeah, I guess."
I grinned. Winner!
"You just got a total ‘I’M A WINNER’ look in your eyes."
I nodded. "You’re pretty good, Way."
"Why thanks!"
"Bite me."
He bit me on the finger. I gasped, and then began attacking him with my finger.
"Make my poor finger feel bweeeettttterrrrrrr, Geeeee!" I wailed, and there was laughter. I knew that it was Ray and Frank by their laughs, but at the moment I really didn’t care.
"Oh shush. Baby." He proceeded to kiss the finger, and I huffed, pouting heavily. I sat up and crossed my arms, glaring at the floor. I was also trying to fight a smile.
"Oh, jeez. You’re so silly," said the singer with a roll of his eyes. I couldn’t help but to smile at that and I pushed him off the couch.
Then I looked at Ray and Frank, blushing a little bit at the latter. Thank God that the room was getting dark.
"Soundcheck’s in a couple of minutes. We gotta go Gee," mentioned Ray, while Frank looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. He had his guitar over his shoulder while Ray was holding his, occasionally strumming on it.
"Come on dork," said Gerard, and he hopped up, dragging me with him.
"Impatient little dude. Slow down, Jesus Christ!"
The thirty-one-year-old grinned at me, dropped my elbow in exchange for Ray’s and the four of us began walking down the dark hallway to go to soundcheck.
It was mostly filled with Gerard and Ray blabbing while Frank and I tried to secretly look at each other and getting caught. But when the lead guitarist and the singer turned a corner, Frank stopped me and turned me to him.
For a minute, there was a tense silence, and then he said, "Do you mind?"
I didn’t even have to think about it. "Of course not."
He proceeded to kiss me fully on the mouth, his lips warm and sweet as they moved with mine. His hands were already pulling me towards him, and they fell on my hips. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him harder against my moving lips. Then, suddenly, his thumbs hooked under the hem of my shirt, rubbing circles into the pressure points on my pelvis bone.
The touch of skin on skin on such an area was agonising, and I gasped, losing my control. I pushed him against the wall this time and his hands went from my skin to my hips and to touching my thighs. His fingers inched from the back to the insides of my legs as my hands snaked up his shirt, feeling his shivering chest. I disconnected my mouth with his and began kissing and nibbling at his Scorpius tattoo and sucking on his earlobe. At this, he let out a noise that was indescribable, and he began taking it to the next level...
His middle finger began stroking me hard through the cover of my jeans. I tensed, gasping for air as he tortured me with my raging hormones. I was starting to let out little profanities now, along with his name sometimes, and he took my willing mouth again.
Wanting him to feel the agony I was in, I proceeded to grind my hips into his erection, causing the rhythm guitarist to moan and I took my hands out of his shirt to mess with the button on his jeans. Now his breathing was haggard and he was moaning as I unzipped his trousers and began snaking my hands down to grab a hold on his hard on.
Frank Anthony Iero yelled out, actually yelled out my name and pushed my body onto my hand and his thick erection. I began stroking him hard and rubbing the tip. It was moist, so he was about to go.
There was no one coming. No one at all. It was completely barren, but frankly I didn’t give a good goddam in Hell.
I extracted my hand and looked at the panting man in front of me. I told him with my eyes what I was planning to do, and he looked up and down the hallways. His eyes widened and he grabbed me, quickly leading me to a door that read "Cleaning Only" and pushed me inside, automatically locking the door and checking to see if we were all alone. When it was clarified that we were, he practically attacked me while I led him to another wall, and I pulled off his shirt. I kissed him all the way down, finding myself on my knees and in front of him.
"Joelle, y-you don’t-don’t have to," he gasped as I kissed the fabric of his boxers.
"Shut up," I said simply, pulling his erection free and immediately taking it into my mouth.
Frank began withering against me, stroking my hair with tense hands and moaning uncontrollably. I put my hands on his thighs and sucked him hard, enticing a low yell from the rhythm guitarist.
With my hands, I told him that it was okay to move around a little. He finally began rolling his hips to push himself deeper into my mouth and his hands were grasping my hair.
"Jo-you...I’m-"
Instead of listening to his warnings, I sucked him harder than ever, and he exploded in my mouth, crying out and drawing tight like a bowstring. I swallowed everything that came from him as he rode out his orgasm, and when he was finished, I kissed his tip and then helped him as he slid down to the floor. He was still gasping but was trying to slow his breathing down, and I just snuggled close to his bare chest as he held me laxly against him.
When he was slightly in better control of himself, he whispered, "Thank you."
I smiled against his skin and murmured back, "You’re welcome."
He lightly chuckled then sighed deeply in contentment.
"That was really bad of us," he said softly against my hair, and I wrapped my arms around his middle.
"I know. I promised Gerard that nothing like a simple touch of the lips would happen again."
"Well, that’s fucked over times a million. And Gerard’s pretty damn smart. He’s probably got everyone believing that we doubled back so I could get my picks or something."
I lifted my head, smiled at him lightly, and then he kissed me, tasting himself. He sighed again, and then I began zipping him back up while he pulled back on his T-shirt.
"Man, and now I’m all tired, but I’ve got to go jump around on stage for a while. That kinda blows."
I laughed.
"But it’s not exactly fair. You didn’t get anything out of that."
"I got plenty out of that. Trust in that, Frank."
"Frankie," he automatically said, and we both chuckled.
"C’mon," I said, and we stood up, him a little weakly.
Then:
"Come on, guys. We haven’t got all fucking day!" yelled Gerard’s all-tell voice. "I’ve got Pansy, so let’s go! Surely a little kissing doesn’t take this long, you little LIARS!"
Frank and I started laughing at the exasperated tone to his voice and we came out of the cleaning closet, to the singer’s surprise.
"How did you get in there?!"
"Well," I said, grinning, "I reached my arm out, clenched my hand on the handle, turned it open-"
Gerard rolled his eyes, staring at the slightly wobbling Frank Iero. Frank was in his own little world, so he didn’t really notice the thirty-one-year-old’s eyes on him, but I sure as hell did.
"Gerard..." I warned, but I was too late as the lightbulb in his head popped on and he finally got it.
"Joelle!" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, and I coloured, staring at the print on the floor as we walked to the lobby. "You made him go off! Are you out of your mind?! Now he’s gonna be all tired and shit and you promised! You said that nothing else would happen! I was willing to look over the fact that you’d probably kiss again, but giving him head is insane! Thank God Jamia has already taken off with the others! She’ll know in a fucking heartbeat!"
"Sorry," I whispered back, probably as red as a tomato.
Frank was oblivious to this whole exchange of words.
Arriving at the lobby of the hotel cut off Gerard’s next set of words. His jaw was clenched as he watched Frank shuffle out the door and collapse in the remaining blue Navigators. Gerard shot me a look that said ‘You really suck, but what am I gonna do about it now?’ and climbed into the driver’s seat, with me following in the passengers seat.
"It’s a thirty minute drive, Frankie, so don’t fall asleep," said Gerard, but Frank was already dozing in the backseat.
"Joelle..." started the singer, but I interrupted.
"Look, I’m sorry. It just sort of started out sort of innocent and then I couldn’t stop. I wanted to do it, Gerard."
He was silent for a moment before reaching over my lap and pulling out a pack of gum from the glove box. "Take one...or two," he added as an afterthought.
I took one and thanked him. He threw it back in there after taking a piece for himself.
There was a good ten minutes before anyone even spoke, and it was me who broke the silence. "Are you mad at me?"
He automatically looked guilty and miserable. "Oh God, Joelle. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole."
I tried to smile with confidence, trying to remember when I had actually cared what anyone besides Haven thought about me. I couldn’t remember. And I was really worried about what Gerard thought. He was my best friend.
His eyes widened. "You actually give a shit about what I say? I never thought I’d see the day!"
I avoided his eye and stared at my clenched hands.
I guess he finally realised that I wasn’t joking. "Joelle, I don’t know what to say."
"So you aren’t?"
"I could never be mad at you, Joelle. I don’t expect you to completely believe that, but I couldn’t. Never ever never."
I looked into his eyes as they shifted back and forth between the road, my face, and his rearview mirror.
"I really wish that you wouldn’t have done it, though. I mean, Jamia’s a good girl, Joey, and this is an affair, you know! If the press or the fans or Jamia find out, then his whole career and his marriage could tank. And you’re a minor, to top it all off. He could go to jail."
"I know."
He looked at me, edging the speed to about ninety as he hit the freeway. And then he smiled.
"If you’re gonna keep doing this Joey, you need to keep it more private than a cleaning closet on the third floor of a five star hotel."
At this, I couldn’t help but to snort in amusement. He laughed with me as he speeded to over a hundred.
"Do I need to drive?"
"Can you drive?" Gerard asked.
"I’m only eighteen." I said sarcastically. I then scoffed, "I can drive. And I won’t kill us all."
"You don’t know where to go!"
"Neither one of you know where to go," remarked Frank from the back seat, and then his head popped in the centre of Gerard and me. Gerard jumped but didn’t lose control while I began laughing at the thirty-one-year-old’s reaction. Frank grinned out of the corner of my eye.
"Do I need to drive?" he asked, while Gerard scoffed.
"Sorry, Frankie Wankie, but I’ve got it."
Frank flipped him off, smiled at me softly, and then leaned back.
"So...uh...where is everyone?"
"They took off to soundcheck. The fans of My Chemical Romance are going to riot soon while their two most favourite men in the world are missing. The wonders of teen-age fangirls and Ferard."
I got blank looks at that.
"Umm, do I want to know?" asked Gerard, and I laughed.
"Probably not. But shit, Haven’s sister Aranea used to write that stuff on that one website...oh hell, what is it called? LiveJournal, that’s it. Ferard, Ferard, Ferard, and some more Ferard. I do have to admit that some of it was pretty hot."
"Okay. I’ll take the bait. What the fuck is Ferard, and what in the hell is hot about it?" asked Frank.
I summoned up my thoughts as I thought about how to say it correctly.
"Ferard is slash fanfiction-" Gerard and Frank groaned but leaned towards me to listen. Curious little buggers. "-that consists around the pairing of you and you. Frank and Gerard. F and then -erard. Ferard. Anyway, some of it is fluff, and some is just chapter fic, but most is just NC-17 stories about you two fucking each other senseless. Haven thought it was a load of crap, but Aranea loved it. She got off on that shit. She used to make me proofread some of her writings before she’d post it, and I thought some of that was pretty damn good."
For a moment, there was deliberating silence, but then Frank said, "That’s kinda gross."
"Oh, boo. You know you’d like it," retorted Gerard, and Frank snorted.
"Yeah, I’m such a little closet case."
"There’s nothing like a little butt sex to get you off," I mentioned, and the two men erupted into hysterical laughter. I joined in with a grin.
When it had calmed down a bit, I blew a bubble and Gerard reached over and popped it with his index finger.
"Ugh, that’s sick, Gerard."
"Popping bubbles is fun, Joey."
"Popping bubbles that aren’t in people’s mouths is okay. Gum in Joey’s mouth...BAD GEE!"
"AHHHHH!!!! GEEEE SOOOOOOORRRRRRYYYYYYYY!!!!" yelled Gerard, and Frank held his hands over his ears while I laughed like crazy. Gerard’s hand ruffled my hair as he did his giggle-chuckle-thing, and I giggled and groaned, pushing his hand away from me.
We pulled in the parking lot of the Coors Ampitheatre, and Gerard concentrated on not running any of the screaming fans over. They were everywhere this time, and Frank just sort of waved at them while Gerard frowned. I just smiled a little shakily until we were through.
By the time we had parked the car in the midst of all kinds of running around and yelling by the crew, Brian Schecter was at our Navigator door, looking murderous.
Gerard and Frank groaned and then opened their doors.
"GERARD ARTHUR WAY, FRANK ANTHONY IERO, AND JOELLE ANDERSON, WHERE IN THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
Brian’s voice seemed to reach the fans, for they watched at the gate, a bit silent and taking pictures with a renewed frenzy. Even the crew had stopped what they are doing.
"JOELLE’S FAULT!" yelled Gerard, and I screamed, "BAD BABYSITTER GEE!!!"
I proceeded to chase him around the parking lot, in and out of the crew, and everyone began to laugh when I jumped on his back and fake strangled him.
"Joey!!!" Gerard whined, and suddenly he had thrown me around, lightly tearing me off and grinning at me. "Gerard stronger than Joey. Gerard cooler than Joey."
"Oh boo, you dork." I then proceeded to give him a high five.
I looked at Frank, who was looking discreetly at me.
"GET IN THERE FOR SOUNDCHECK BEFORE I KILL YOU IDIOTS!" yelled Brian, and Gerard and I sulked, stomping like children in the arena.
Five minutes later, and the three of us were on stage. There was a cheer as people got their favourite men back, and Gerard and I just stood there, glaring at the fuming Brian.
"Pick up microphone. Sing," demanded Brian.
Gerard lost his temper. "If I want to fucking sing, I’ll do it in my own sweet time. Go get laid."
"Do it backwards-" I said.
"-forwards-"
"-side-to-fucking-side-"
"-up top-"
"-or bottom-"
"-just get rid of that sexual tension-"
"-and stop being such a blowhard."
We glared as there was silence and Brian just gaped.
Then he turned on his heel and stormed off.
Gerard looked at me and I looked back. The rest of My Chemical Romance was paused over their instruments while everyone else was shocked into silence.
"I want to go swimming!" whined Gerard after a while. I grinned and looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"You just got a tan, dude."
His nose scrunched up as he grabbed his microphone. He mumbled, "Tan’s suck" and it echoed over the stadium.
"You check; I’m too pissed to sing right now."
He tossed me the mike and I snorted. "Go strangle a kitten. Or your darling wife."
"Joelle..."
"Alright, alright. Sorry, Babysitter Gee." There was laughter at that.
I found a mike stand, stole Ray’s guitar, and then said, "Hey Mr. Way. Listen to Joelle Thomas belt out her tunes, bitch!"
He laughed and turned around.
"Self-righteous suicide, take one..." I murmured in the mike and then began playing the guitar, singing the lyrics to Chop Suey! by System of a Down, while some of the crowd sang the backup vocals.
(We're rolling suicide)
Wake up (Wake up)
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup (Hide the scars to fade away the)
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table
You wanted to,
Why don't think you trust,
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to DIE!!!
Wake up (Wake up)
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
Hide the scars to fade away the (Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup)
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table
You wanted to,
Why don't think you trust,
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide,
I cry when angels deserve to die
Father (Father), Father (Father), Father (Father), Father (Father)!
Father into your hands, I commend my spirit,
Father, into your hands,
Why have you forsaken me,
In your eyes forsaken me,
In your thoughts forsaken me,
In your heart forsaken, me oh!
Trust in my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die...
When the song ended, there was a burst of applause from the audience that seemed to have expanded in the two plus minute song. Gerard, Frank, Mikey, Ray, and Bob (although he came a little late because he was behind the drums) all attacked me in a hug, and I could hear Jamia, Alicia, and especially Becky screaming in the background.
I couldn’t stop laughing! I was grinning like an idiot, which cracked me up even more, and I felt happier than I had in a very long time.
"Joey, that was amazing...congratulations. Everyone loves you right now!" whispered Gerard in my ear, his breath tickling and cold.
"Yeah, but does my best friend?" I asked, my heart jumping for the moment in the apprehension of waiting for his response.
He looked at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. Everyone paused and looked confused.
And then, suddenly, he pulled me into a big hug and even lifted me up off my feet.
"SERIOUSLY?! HOLY SHIT, JOELLE! BEST FRIEND! YAY! GEE LOVES JOEY! YAY!" He spun me around in a circle and I clenched my arms around his neck for dear life. The other four scattered in fear of getting hit by a stray foot.
"Gerard!" I gasped, and he began laughing like crazy, letting me down. We both swayed and then fell over, giggling like mad and gasping for air.
Then Frank Iero came into my vision and I smirked at him, while he held out a tattooed arm and helped me up. We held on to each other a little longer than appropriate, but no one seemed to notice.
"Sing a duet with me, Joey," said the thirty-one-year-old to me, and I grinned.
"Alrighty then, Babysitter Gee." I picked up Ray’s mike while Brian came in again.
"Soundcheck is over. Get off the stage. Everyone that didn’t pay extra is going to be allowed admittance."
"Get off the stage," Gerard and I said together. Brian opened his mouth to retort, but Bob interrupted. "Schecter, I’d get lost before Gerard impales you with a teacup."
Unwillingly, the singer and I snorted, and unwillingly, Brian left the stage.
The stadium began filling up drastically.
After about ten minutes of deliberation, Gerard and I decided to play something that was completely the opposite of what Mr. Gerard Way was used to.
Of course, the thirty-one-year-old had heard of Dreaming by SOAD, and had fiddled around with it. I took a seat on the ground, and started singing to the almost completely full and gaining stadium.
Conquest to the lover,
And your love to the fire,
Permanence unfolding in the absolute.
Forgiveness is
The ultimate sacrifice.
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
The pictures of time and space are rearranged,
In this little piece of typical tragedy.
Justified Candy!
Brandy for the nerves,
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
I forgot to
I forgot to let you know that...
Justified Candy!
Brandy for the nerves,
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
Conquest to the lover,
And your love to the fire,
Permanence unfolding in the absolute.
Forgiveness is
The ultimate sacrifice.
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
Generation..............
What is in us that turns a deaf ear to the cries of human suffering?!!!
WOAH!!!!!!!
Suffering, suffering now!
You and me will all go down in history,
With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
You and me will all go down in history,With a sad Statue of Liberty,
And a Generation that didn't agree.
Generation..........
Gerard’s voice harmonised with mine well, considering they were pretty similar, or according to Mikey. He pretty much did that yelping thing he did during Daron Malakian’s higher vocal work, and my voice was more grittier than his.
But regardless, the full ampitheatre was screaming their goddam lungs out. It was pretty damn good too, what we did together, but it would never match Serj Tankian and Daron Malakian in System of a Down, virtually the best fucking band the world.
After that, I began breaking out in Bert McCracken’s part in Under Pressure, the studio version by The Used and My Chemical Romance. Gerard and the rest of the band accompanied me while the crowd cheered. And when we had rang of that last note, Gerard picked me up over his shoulder and pretty much screamed, "GEE OWNS!" in the microphone, getting an earful of screaming.
Then the band was gone and The Bled was opening.
After a good forty-five minutes of The Bled, My Chemical Romance came on. I was sitting in between Alicia and Becky, and not acting any different around the girl who’s husband I had given a blow job to in a cleaning closet. That would’ve raised suspicion, and I wanted to talk to Gerard and Frank before I went and tried to tell all of my guilt to Jamia Nestor-Iero.
Gerard did his usual chicken dance shit and asked an ecstatic audience "Who wants my underwear?" among all of the other psycho things he usually accomplished in the concerts. Of course, there was that moment where that one fan, some crazy kid, had gotten passed the security and up no-man’s land, climbed onto the stage, and then tried to grab a crazed Gerard. Before security had taken
the teen-ager, Gerard proceeded to dance with him around Frank Iero.
Oh yeah, and that one girl got trampled and her nose broken into a mushy mess.
But other than that, it was a successful concert. Gerard blew a kiss to the four girls in the VIP area that had been reserved to the side for us and then waltzed off the stage with Bob. Mikey and Frank did some freaky bow thing while Ray started head banging and jumping on a yelling Mikey.
Automatically, people began either trying to get passed the mob to get out of the ampitheatre or they began swarming the little area that was being protected by the security for us four. Alicia and Jamia jumped out of their seats in fear of hands grabbing them.
They were screaming for autographs and that they loved us. They wanted to hang out with us. They wanted to party. They wanted to meet the band. They wanted concert tickets. They wanted Gerard’s babies and Mikey’s glasses. They wanted a lock of Ray’s fro. They wanted Bob to sing for them. They wanted Frank. They wanted Gerard.
And when Gerard and Mikey showed up, along with a severely exhausted Frank leaning on Bob’s strong frame, the hysterical fans went ever more insane.
"Frank, you alright?" asked Jamia, and he smiled at her. "Of course. I’m just a little tired."
If I hadn’t have been part of the reason he was so tired, then I would’ve been fooled by the lie. It was pretty damn convincing.
Jamia, successfully adhered, helped Bob take Frank out to a Navigator. Becky followed, and Alicia began dragging Mikey and Christy out, looking equally concerned.
Gerard and I, left alone now in front of all of these crazed fans, looked at each other and began laughing hysterically, falling all over each other and gasping for breath.
The crowd actually quieted dramatically, but we didn’t really know it until our laughter began dying down. By this time, we were both breathing with difficulty and wiping the tears out of our eyes.
"Oops," said the thirty-one-year-old, and I snorted.
"Oops? You dork."
"Not a dork!" said Gerard.
"Dork."
"Bite me."
"Where and how hard?" There were longing sighs at that from the crushing fans.
"HEY! Not fair!" retorted the singer.
"Okay. So where? I can draw blood you know."
"Prove it!"
I leaned over the chair and bared my teeth. "HOLY SHIT!" yelled Gerard, lifting his arms to block himself.
"You told me to prove it," I mentioned.
"Exaggeration!"
"You don’t know how to exaggerate, then."
"You just can’t take a joke!"
"MIKEY!" I randomly bellowed, and he smacked me.
"XOXO!"
"CHOP SUEY!"
"HUMAN POSITION!"
Everyone laughed at Gerard’s comment. I snorted again.
"BRIAN SCHECTER!"
We laughed again.
"Bob likes Becky, Bob likes Becky!" I sang, and Gerard joined in while the crowd looked mutinous.
After a minute, Gerard and I both said, "Peppermint Mocha, hot with whipped cream, and mocha on top!" before booking it out of the station.
But it was too late.