Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The entire drive from his apartment to yours happened in silence.
He did not speed. He did not turn on the radio.
He wasn't even sure if he had opened the windows.
He just tried to calm himself downso as not to show how frustrated he was.

Good thing you told him you were going to take a shower and go to sleep. He knew you would stay home.

He parked the car, grabbed his stuff, got out, and walked straight to your door.
As he rang the bell, a male voice echoed coughing from inside.
No.
It couldn't be, right?
He heard the doorknob move, held his breath, and waited for the door to open.
Not the Brendon guy.
“Hey, excuse me. I'm going to apartment 3”.
“Yeah, man… Get in.”
The man walked outside, letting Gerard in.
Jesus.
How unsafe.
You definitely needed to move out.
He walked up the stairs and knocked on your door and waited.
You opened it with a towel wrapped around your head and a huge T-shirt hanging off your frame.
His T-shirt.
“Gerard, what the fuck are you doing here?” You asked, frightened. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Uhm… Will you let me in?” he signaled inside.
You were confused, tired, surprised. You weren't expecting anyone to come ,especially not him. But you did let him in.
Locking the door behind you, you saw him walk straight toward your sofa and sit down.
“Gerard, you're worrying me. What's happening?”
You sat down next to him, folding one of your legs under the other one.
“Nothing, everything is fine.” Casually, he emptied his pockets onto the coffee table as if he were settling in for the night.
“Then why are you here?”
Does he want to stay? It's way past midnight. You have things to do tomorrow.
“We agreed to hang out after your party.” He spoke, shrugging as if you were saying something stupid.
You just looked at him, more confused than ever.
“Did we?”
“Yeah, don't tell me you forgot! In the car, when I took you home.”
You were almost certain that conversation had never happened. You never said yes. You were mad at him. The last thing you wanted to do at that moment was to continue the endless cycle of confusing situations.
Maybe you just weren't clear enough. Or you had actually said yes but didn't remember.
“Oh… uhm. Did you have dinner?”
“Yes. I ate some steak and salad. Did you have dinner yet? Or did you eat at the party?”
He looked at you with the most innocent smile he could manage.
“We ate there.”
“What did you guys eat?” He kept asking, leaning toward the table and grabbing his cigarettes and lighter. “Put this in the freezer, woman. It’s melted already.” He grabbed the small package, pressing the soft insides and playing with it before giving it to you.
You forgot about Brandon's chocolate.
“We ate some snacks. Pizza. Cake.” You walked to the fridge, leaving the chocolate inside. “What about you? What did you do?”
“I had a doctor's appointment, rehearsals, and we got some of our measurements taken for the tour costumes. The new stylist is awesome. Remember the jacket with the corset on the back? She did those. By hand. She’s doing new stuff for us.” He grabbed an ashtray and sat on the windowsill. He didn't want your apartment to reek of cigarettes. He left the half-full pack on the window. “And how was the party? How was Lizzie?”

Wait, the new stylist? Was that same new stylist you were thinking about?
Because you didn't like her. And she didn't like you.
You remembered one day when she came to one of the shows last minute to do the band’s hair. Ray trimmed his ends, Mikey got a haircut and Gerard and Frank kept theirs long.
You remembered how she took longer to do Gerard's hair, brushing and hairspraying pieces of hair that were perfectly done and needed no adjustment. How she moved his jacket around, how she tucked his shirt into his pants when it already looked fine.
It seemed like she was looking for an excuse to touch him.
And the worst part? She was extremely cool.
She could sew, design, draw, paint, cut and dye hair. She did tattoos. She played bass.
For all you knew, she probably rode lions for fun. If she weren’t absolutely insufferable you would die to become her friend or be more like her.
Not to forget that she was really pretty. Gorgeous, even. Her name suited her perfectly, Luna.
“So how was the party?”
You stood there, with the fridge door open, completely immersed in your thoughts. You snapped back to reality.
“I already told you, it was great. Brendon found that they have mutual friends with the girls, so they connected on MySpace using her computer.”
You walked back and sat in front of him in the small space. Your knees brushed as the streetlights outside cast warm light across both of your faces. You reached out to him, asking him to share his cigarette with you.
“Wow. I need to meet that guy. He seems super cool. What is he into?”
You took a puff, not entirely aware of what he had asked.
“Women.”
“What?”
“You asked me who he’s into. He's straight. I think.”
“No. I asked you what he likes. Is he like a soccer guy?”
“Oh.” You laughed.
You were tired, there were still some traces of alcohol in your system, you were confused because of his late night visit, and you weren't paying enough attention to his question.
You had not been listening carefully. Your mind was still wandering through the memories from the party.
“I think he likes music a lot, too.” You gave him the cigarette back. “I'm sure he listens to the band because the other day he was humming a song from the first album.”
That. Is. Wonderful.
That was excellent news
If he was a fan, then he knew that he stood absolutely no chance against him.
He felt the relief wash over him.
“But I haven't told him about you or the band. You know that I like to keep it private.”
How easy it was for you to tell him that you did not even dare to speak about him.
Well, he had no problem in letting Brendon know himself who he was.
But is it worth it?
Gerard was seen everywhere with you. There werepictures of you two online, even some in magazines. He did it even though he knew how fast rumors spread. He even told his mom about you the other day, sitting at dinner with Mikey.
Sure, there wasn’t a label, but he was giving you so much of him.
And you didn't even casually mention him to your colleagues?
“Why not? You can ask him to come to one of our shows” He smiled, fixing the pockets of his pants. “That one show before we leave. You can invite them, I'll give you some tickets.”
He walked close to you, taking off the towel from your head and letting it fall on the window.
The scent of your shampoo filled his nostrils. Your damp hair fell around your shoulders, leaving dark patches on your shirt. He slid his hands inside his T-shirt, drawing circles on your skin.
“What if we finally put your bed to use?”

Your morning routine with him was always the same. Maybe shared a slow make-out session. Made breakfast. Then a quick goodbye kiss at the door before you both went your separate ways.

Today was different.
He got up before you and took a shower. You woke to the sound of the water running and dragged yourself out of bed to make breakfast. He got dressed, turned on the TV and watched the news with you, making small talk about some politician involved in a money laundering scandal.
“Alright,” you said eventually, standing up. “Let’s clean and leave. It's getting late and I'll miss the train.”
He did just that.
He washed the mugs in the sink and dried them with a dishcloth while you applied one last coat of mascara.
You grabbed your purse and your keys, he grabbed his.
Walking down the stairs, before opening the door, you gave him the usual goodbye kiss.
When you walked out he just grabbed your forearm, stopping you in your tracks.
“Get in.” He was already heading toward his car, opening the passenger door.
You stared at him, confused, purse hanging from your shoulder, glasses sliding down your nose.
“Why?”
“I'm taking you to work, come on. You don't wanna be late.” He walked around the car and slid into the driver’s seat like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
If you were confused two days ago, today was an understatement.
But you got in, anyway.
The situation was overly domestic. He played some seventies record you had never heard before, talked about movies you did not know, and pointed out places he used to hang out that you have never been to.
“Gee, what has driven you to take me to work today?”
“Why not? We deserve someone doing something nice for us every once in a while.”
He meant it, wholeheartedly. He knows he messed up last night. You went out of your way and wanted to make him a part of your world, the fact that it was smaller than his does not make it any less important.
You agreed, just biting your lips to avoid a conversation that will not end well.
“Do you have to work today?
“Babe, I am always working.” He laughed, putting on his black sunglasses and shifting the gears. “But yeah. I have to go to the studio.”
“Cool. What is the song about?”
“You're not gonna believe this.” He glanced at you, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “It's about love.”
“Hey, I am really curious. What is it about?.” You relaxed slightly in your seat, the sarcasm on his voice made you smile.
“It's very good. I think you'll like it.”
You asked him to stop at a gas station or a shop to buy some snacks. He stopped at a gas station and you both got off the car.
You were walking down the aisle and grabbed a Sprite, walking past the soda section.
“You should get this.”
Gerard grabbed a bottle from a fridge, smiling and showing it to you. It was a grape soda.
“I hate grape soda.”
“I know, that’s why”
He took a bottle of water, paid for both of your things and got in the car again.
As you got closer to your office, you looked through your purse.
You didn't have your credential.
Right, you left it at home when Gerard distracted you biting on your neck.
He saw your distress, asking you what happened.
“I left my ID badge at home. I will have to ask security to make an exception or something. At least we're earlier than usual.”
“I can go back and bring it to you if you want. I don't mind.”
You looked at him.
Was he chewing gum?
He kept driving, eyes on the road, jaw moving lazily.
“Do you want to come with me or do you want to wait here?”
“No, leave me here. If my boss sees me, she will know I made it on time”
He bit his lip. He drove close to the entrance of the building, double parking, and you left your apartment keys on the console.
“I'll be right back.” He spoke before leaning, giving you one of those noisy kisses that left your chest fluttering.

You walked to the entrance of the building, waiting at the reception. You could've asked someone to let you in even though you didn't have the pass.
I mean, that's what you did for fun on your free time, anyway.
But then you would have to do the same thing over lunch, or if you had to go out and run some errands.
Also, Karla was just getting in. She could keep you company.
Her gray hair somehow made her look cooler, not older. She once told you that you reminded her of her daughter.
While she was telling you about said daughter, now an engineer with a family of her own, Brendon walked in.
Of course, he asked you what happened. You told him and started doing some small talk. He even told Karla about the party.
You were talking about his time at university when you saw him.
Gerard.
But he had clearly seen you first. Chatting with an older woman and that ugly boy. He was double parking again, making other drivers curse and honking the horns at him.
You recognized that attitude immediately
When he walks a little too smug, when he brushes his hair back a little too much. The confident expression on his face.
You excused yourself. You left your purse on the coffee table in the reception and practically ran to the glass doors of the entrance.
He beat you to it, because he opened it first, walking in, ruining your plans of avoiding him at your workplace.
“Woah, the air conditioner here is nice.” He said casually, looking around.
You felt the eyes of other people in your back. You immediately stepped forward and turned him around so his back faced the room.
Now his back faced them.
You saw Brendon, whose face looked pale as if he had seen a ghost. On the other hand, Karla was technically drooling.
“Do you have it?”
“Yes, babe. I have it right there.” He padded the front pocket on his black jeans. “What's the hurry? You still have like… Three minutes.”
“Yeah, but I don't wanna take more of your time. Can you give it to me?”
“Yes, ma'am. But I have something to ask from you.”
“What?”
“First of all, you look really hot dressed corporate. Those pants fit you just right.” Studying you slowly, he spoke with all the patience that a human being can have. “And second, you can either give me a kiss, or reach into my pocket and grab it yourself”
You looked at the clock on the wall.
Then at his pocket.
Then at his face.
There was absolutely no way you were digging into his pants in the middle of your office lobby.
At least you wouldn't do it in public.
You sighed.
He read you in an instant, and just took you by the waist and kissed you.
Slow at first. Then it was all tongue, grabbing, biting. Specially the last part. His hand cradled the back of your head, careful not to ruin your bun, but firm enough that you could not pull away.
You winced, his teeth digging in your lips. You took a step back, touching your lip to make sure that you weren’t bleeding.
“Okay, now. Credential.”
“You know I love it when you get bossy.” He reached down his pocket, giving you the most prized possession you could ever think of owning right now.
“Okay, anything else?” You made sure to keep the plastic away from him.
“You won't introduce me to your coworkers? You know mine.” He pointed at them with his thumb, looking back for a brief second.
You just couldn't say no.
I mean, they already know who he is.
Kind of.
You put your hand on his back, pushing him towards the three people that were watching the scene unfolding in front of them.
When did Mary get here?
“Hey, this is Gerard. He’s my—” you stopped fast in your tracks, stumbling over the next words.
You didn't have the nerve to say that he was your friend when they saw how he basically devoured your mouth at nine a.m. in front of your workplace. “my credential. He brought me my credential” you finished weakly.
He extended his hand, reaching out to the women first.
“Hey, nice to meet you, ladies.” When he turned to Brendon, he spoke clearly, enunciating his words more than usual. “I'm Gerard Way, nice to meet you.”
Brendon couldn't believe it.
Like, genuinely couldn't believe it.
Maybe his alarm clock ran out of batteries and he was still dreaming. One of those stupid, fever dreams that you have in which your beautiful coworker who you have a crush on starts to make out with a celebrity in front of you.
They exchanged quick nice to meet you’s and names.
“Oh. She's told me about you all. Specially you, Mary and Brandon.”
“It's Brendon.” You interrupted, defending the poor man who was just as shocked as he was five minutes ago when he thought he saw a famous singer on the sidewalk.
“Yeah, sorry. Sometimes I change my vowels.” He shrugged. His soft hand pressing on your side, he spoke to you. “I’m in a band. We make rock music. If you like it, you're welcome to come to our show this week.”
This wasn't real. Your head was spinning. Your belly hurt.
The one place Gerard had never invaded before was now completely occupied by him.
You knew you fucked it up.
But the worst part? The worst part was how natural it felt.
“Don't worry, Gerard. I'll let you know if you want to come. Isn't it getting late for you?” Trying to make him to leave seemed impossible, and you did not want to kick him out in front of other people.
“Yeah, hun’. I should go" he nodded.
Then, he placed both of his hands on your hips, kissing your cheek and murmured loudly enough for everyone to hear: “I'll see you later, babe”
And just like that, he left.

He got a ticket for double parking. Whatever, it's just a hundred dollars.
The best spent one hundred dollars of his life.
He had a doctor’s appointment and now it was time to work.
The drive to the studio was felt strangely peaceful. The sun was shining today. The wind was cold. Perfect weather. He had great sex the night before and had fallen asleep curled around a beautiful woman, her hair tickling his chin while she breathed softly against his chest.
Life was great.
At least for now.
As he got into the studio and started to listen to the demos and the song choices that they could record today, most of them blurred together. Guitar riffs, half finished lyrics, scattered ideas.
But one track stood out immediately.
It felt right.

You answered every pending email, shipped packages, made copies, fixed the printing machine that nobody else knew how to deal with, faxed important documents, and even built several new Excel spreadsheets from scratch.
By lunchtime, you were certain you had completed at least two weeks of work.
You just wanted to avoid the curious questions from everyone.
Because you were avoiding everyone.
And when you said everyone, you meant it.
Rumors spread fast in an office like this. People had four eyes and two mouths when gossip was involved.

By the time lunch break came around, your stomach finally reminded you that you had not eaten all day.
Still, you stalled.
You wiped down your desk, organized your pens. rearranged folders that were already perfectly aligned.
Anything but stepping into the hallway.
When you opened the top drawer, the one you kept locked, your stomach tightened immediately.
Gerard’s drawing.
The same one he had given you weeks ago at his home.
You inhaled sharply, preparing to curse his entire bloodline, starting with him and ending with his mother.
“Lunch?” Mary’s voice cut through the moment.
You quickly folded the drawing and slid it back into the drawer before locking it again.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”

You thought you got away with it.
But when you got to the cafeteria, you saw all the people in your department sitting on two long tables pushed together.
That meant trouble.
Or a birthday. And you always check the birthday wall.
There was no birthday today.
Great.
Two empty seats remained, which left you with almost no choice. You just sighed and sat down in front of Brendon, because you would definitely not sit at the head of the table.
“May I ask what the fuck was that? Respectfully.” Brandon broke the silence, addressing the biggest elephant that has ever stepped foot on any room.
“Nothing. I just prefer not to talk about my personal life at work. Like most people here.”
“Love,” Karla spoke searching your face, when you showed us that picture we weren't expecting him to be so…” She was trying to find a fitting word to describe his feelings.
“Cute?” you offered.
“No.”
“Emo?”
“No.”
“Attractive?”
“Sort of.”
“Magnetic?”
“Exactly.” Karla’s face lit up. “Magnetic. It's like… Our eyes were drawn to him.” Karla was emphasizing with her expressions.You had never seen her this delighted about anything.
“That's because you like the gossip.” Mary interrupted. “He is really cute. I understand you, now.”
Meanwhile, Brendon just waited for the right words to cross his mind.
“Why didn't you tell me that you were dating My Chemical Romance? I am like… The biggest fan.”
“I'm not dating My Chemical Romance, Brendon.” You scoffed, immediately shoveling a spoonful of rice into your mouth just to avoid answering. The rice tasted almost as bad as this conversation.

You loved talking about Gerard. You loved to mention him and remember him and especially you loved to talk about him when the talk was positive.
But now, when you have more questions than answers, where the lines are blurred and your future was uncertain, it only made you feel worse.
“I saw Gerard fucking Way shoving his tongue down your throat this morning.” He whisper-screamed, making other people gasp. You stared at him in disbelief. But judging by the way everyone leaned forward slightly, they were also grateful someone had finally said it out loud.
You were angry at the disrespect, of course.
“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that… It's just, why didn't you tell us?”
Your patience ran out.
You exploded.
“Because we're not dating! We just kissed. Have you dated every person you have ever kissed?”

Silence.

Mary spoke with a soft, understanding voice. Thek kind that you use when you deliver bad news. “I can't say yes, but I can tell you that I have dated every single man who took me to work and kissed me goodbye in the mornings.”
You froze.
You felt used, vulnerable, exposed.
How stupid you must have looked. They must think that you are that dumb girl who thinks that she's dating a celebrity and now is ashamed to admit it.
“He's leaving for tour in a couple of days, anyway.” You almost whispered, taking a sip of your drink as you leaned back on your chair.
Brendon spoke.
“You should be proud of yourself, honestly.” He looked at you, genuine. “I mean, for how well you have kept that secret hidden.”
Whatever.
It's not like he had a chance with you. Especially now that he knew who you were spending your time with.
He might as well not be an asshole about it. And try to support you while being at it.
“So, do you guys want to come to the show, yes or no?.” You crumbled up the napkin in a ball and threw it on top of your plate.

You didn't have energy.
Maybe the burst of adrenaline of the rushed and exciting morning intoxicated your body and now you were wasting your energy in detoxifying your system.
No one dared to tell you anything: you got more done in four hours than they do in two days.
Now, you didn't have anything else to do.
So you used the company computer for something personal for once.
Connecting your camera to the CPU, you uploaded the picture of the pen you took at the convention.
Then you started digging.
Websites, blogs, random spots of the internet, YouTube videos and Amazon listings. All in hopes of finding someone who had that freaking pen and decided to sell it to you.
But you didn't fin any.
Until you opened eBay. Someone was auctioning the pen.
It was a fountain pen.
G nib. For the first time in hours, you smiled at the coincidence of the name.
The pen looked elegant. Old fashioned. The kind of pen poets used to write love letters, or politicians used to sign treaties.
It was posted eight minutes ago. Coincidence?
Location: New York.
You ran.

14:43 pm: Hello. I saw your post about the auction of this pen and I am interested. I want to give it as a gift, and I would like to get it in less than two days. Is that possible? How much are you asking for it? Thank you.

And you waited for her to reply. Every minute felt longer than it should have.

14:57 pm: Hi! This was my exhusbands. He cheated nd I took it. I don't even know if its valuable n I don't really care. Give me $150 and its yours. Let me know if that works for u. :)

You bidded $170.

The listing closed almost instantly.

She accepted.

You arranged to meet today, after work, a couple of blocks away from work at a local park.
You asked Brendon to come with you, just for safety. He agreed immediately.
Maybe a little too quickly for your liking.
You made a small list of the people who wanted to come to the show, but other than that, no one touched on the subject.
The walk to the park was surprisingly pleasant.
Brendon turned out to be good company when he wasn’t interrogating you about personal matters. He was funny. relaxed, easy to talk to.
And you were not oblivious to the way he looked at you. The interest was obvious, almost palpable. And it was always nice to know someone liked you.
Still, it was not the person you were thinking about.

The walk to the park was filled with conversation.
Brendon was a genuine, chill, interesting guy. You weren’t oblivious at his obvious attraction towards you. It is always nice to know you’re liked. You enjoyed his company.
“So how's Gerard? Is he as cool as he is in the public eye?”
“I'd say so. He’s actually shyer than people think. But yes, he's really cool” You crossed the street, and waited for the woman to come.
He wanted to scoff.
Shy?
He was pretty sure he had seen Gerard tongue kissing more people on stage than he had seen his own parents kiss.
The pen-woman said that she was wearing nude colored thighs, a black skirt and a blue shirt.
“He draws, too? As far as I know.”
“Yes. He's a big fan of comics and all of those things.” You mumbled softly, trying to put this topic of conversation to an end, anxiety building up inside of you.
Brendon noticed that your voice softened slightly when you spoke about him.
“That’s cool…” He paused, “What are you even buying? You didn't tell me.”
It seemed like everyone agreed today to make you suffer and didn't let you know.
“A pen.”
You saw the gears shifting in his head, putting two and two together. Before he could say anything else, you suddenly straightened.
“There she is!”
You both stood up, meeting with a woman with blonde hair wearing that exact same outfit that she described. She excused herself for being late, and you told her that you didn't mind.
She pulled out a notebook from her bag, showing you how it works, how soft the flow is, how fast the ink dries. She gave you the new ink refills and the box.
“It's brand new. I sold it to you because all of the bidders were men and I wasn't interested in giving it to them.” She spoke and then looked at Brendon. “No offense, though..”
“None taken,” he replied with a polite smile.
“That's really nice of you, thank you.” You gave her three bills, paying the total arranged price of the item.
She gave you her card just in case you ever needed an attorney.
And then, she pulled a pen rest from her bag. That's what she told you it was, you had no idea those even existed. But it looked sturdy.
You will definitely call her when you need an attorney.
You said your goodbyes and parted ways.
Brendon walked with you to the train station, Brendon walked you to the train station, but he was quieter now.
“So,” he said eventually, “that pen better be really good. I didn’t know you were into that.”
“It is really good, a limited edition. A collectible.” you replied.
You didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t push.

You went home, changed clothes and left. Spending the evening looking for a new apartment was fruitful, because you found one that was just right.
The only downside was the deposit. It was out of your current budget, but you loved it. You still got on the waitlist, just in case you got the money soon.

Gerard called you just as you were leaving. You wanted to walk around the block and check out the area.
“Hey, babe. How's your day been?”
“Great. I'm checking out an apartment. I really liked it. What about you?”
“It was wonderful. We finished the song and rehearsed for the show. It was nice. Whatcha’ doing now? Wanna meet?”
You wanted so badly to say no. But you knew you didn't want to miss out on the chance to see him. You knew you would regret that later.
“Sure. Where are you?”
“At home. Send me your address by text and I'll come pick you up.”

You sent him the address, deciding to meet him in front of a Starbucks in twenty minutes. You waited until you saw his car, getting in instantly.
He kissed you.
“What do you want to do?”
“Me? I should be the one to ask you.” He said, pulling out a piece of mint gum from the side door and giving one to you.
“I don't know. I'm kinda tired, though.”
“Movie night? At home.”
“Sure, just don't look at the mess. I haven't had time to do my laundry.”
Gerard blinked, then he laughed softly.
“Huh? No. I was… I meant to watch a movie at my house. There's a Blockbuster down the street.”

His house.

You had only been there twice. Three, if you counted that one time. Every time changed something between you.
You had expected to see a nice apartment in the middle of New York City, luxurious enough for someone who had that career.
Or maybe some studio apartment with high ceilings in classic New York industrial styl, the kind that already came with furniture.

The first time you went to his house, you needed a leather jacket for a Grease costume at a party last Halloween and your friends didn't have any that fit you right. You were going for a zombie-like outfit.
He said that he had one that could be perfect for you. He had worn it so much that it had started to fall apart. It was patched up with tape and was crumbling at the sleeves. The zipper didn't work, the pockets were broken and the buttons of the sleeves were missing.
He drenched it in his cologne the day before and tried to make it look and smell as good as he could.
He could not throw it out, because so many memories were attached to that piece of clothing.
And he was glad that he didn't because when he saw you wearing his clothes at a party, he knew that you would smell like him all night.

The second time, he simply called you on a Friday night asking you if you were awake.
He picked you up and just drove around aimlessly for a while, before asking you if you wanted to go to his place.
You agreed.
He took a roundabout and turned the opposite direction that he usually took.
Instead, he drove you to the suburbs of New Jersey, parking in front of a brick house.
“Did you move?”
“No, I used to live here.” Parking the car and grabbing his backpack, he opened the door and stepped out. “This is my childhood home”
His family had gone on a holiday and he had been asked to check on the house every once in a while.
He showed you the living room and the kitchen, before leading you to the basement, where he used to live back when the band was just starting out.
He told you that his mom refuses to change anything and that she tended to keep their awards and some valuable stuff in there.
Gerard made dinner: some mac and cheese with a cold Coke. You ate in the couch at his old room, watching some 80’s film that you didn't quite understand, so you kept asking him over and over again to explain it to you. At some point, you understood that it was pointless to watch it now: you couldn't get the plot.
At that, he just put on The Truman Show. One, because it is interesting, and two, because you had already seen it.
“Do you remember how we met at a basement?”
He spoke, his head resting on your belly and his arms hugging your legs. His old bed was very comfortable.
“I didn't know how to come up and talk to you…” He confessed. “Then, I broke the door of the bathroom in frustration because I felt stupid. And drunk. And you were nice enough to hold it and talk to me.”
You let out a soft laugh. “I was talking to Mikey when I saw you. He told me he came with his brother and that I shouldn't be surprised if he came up to me to talk about nerdy stuff.”
He would never tell you this, but he had sent Mikey to talk to you to see if you were single. Or if you knew who they were.
They had just started to get big and their names were starting to spread like wildfire around the city.
Maybe he could use that to his advantage to impress you and get to know you.
“You could've stopped me at any time. You know I get carried away with those things”
“I didn't want to.” You closed your eyes, slightly dozing off. “I like to listen to you.”
Gerard did not realize the movie had ended until the credits rolled, his mind wandering. Not long after, he fell asleep too, still thinking about you.

The third time was when after spending the night with him, when he asked if you wanted to see his studio, which was just another room in his apartment.
You were still wearing his sweater, your hair was a mess and he had red splotches all over his neck because of you.
You were expecting a recording studio, but no.
Instead, it was a room filled with art supplies. A drawing desk. Walls covered in movie posters. A record player. Bookshelves overflowing with books. Stacks and stacks of DVDs and VHS tapes.

He showed you some of his drawings and past projects of his. He showed you a folder which had multiple drawings of a monkey.
“This is the cutest thing ever” you said in a whiny voice. It was a tiny, flying monkey wearing a hat and a shirt. “That's different from what you usually draw. Your drawings are more angular and this is very round.”
He blushed.
Did you notice that he had a drawing style?
“Uh, well, yes. It was for an old project but whatever.” Rummaging through different piles of paper and boxes, he landed on a leather sketchbook. “Did you know that I made the cover for the second album?” He showed you some marker and watercolor illustrations. “They were meant to be used as inspiration for the photographer, but they chose to go with these.”
As you flipped through the pages, you came across one that looked strikingly similar to the final version. It had more blood and the lovers looked slightly different, but it was clearly the same concept.
“I actually love this one.” You pointed at it with your nail, the nail polish chipped at the corners.
He took the sketchbook from you and carefully tore the page out.
“You can keep it.”

Gerard parked his car in the lot beside his building.
You followed him inside, and a few minutes later the two of you were walking down the street toward the Blockbuster he had mentioned.
His jacket was zipped all the way up, the hood pulled low over his hair.
Even like this, he was recognizable.
“I’ve got a subscription. You pick the movies.”
You wandered through the aisles slowly, running your fingers along the plastic cases, reading the back of every single one. You chose two: Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola and Washed Away. Yes, the animated one.
“One more.” Gerard held up a third movie with a grin.
It was some obscure film with terrible cover art.
“Of course you’d pick the weird one,” you said.
He checked out the movies while you waited by the door.
He ordered food while you settled onto the couch. The apartment looked exactly the same as the last time you had been there

“You should be grateful I appreciate you.”
He looked up, confused. Your eyes narrowed slightly.
“Because after that little scene you pulled at the office I should've ripped your head off of your body.”
“What about it?” Gerard leaned back against the couch, legs stretched in front of him. “You seemed to like it.”
You gasped in horror.
“Gerard, that's my workplace. You just cannot do that.”
“Babe, you hadn’t even clocked in yet,” he said. “And your office is like on the twelfth floor. You weren’t even technically inside yet.”
He dismissed you with a hand movement and leaned his head back against the couch.
“Yes, but still. Lunchtime felt as if I was in an FBI interrogation room.”
“Did it?” He opened his eyes, turning his head toward to you
“Yes. Brendon almost stabbed me with a plastic fork for not telling him that you were… you.”
“Really?” Gerard smiled. “What'd he say?”
There was a spark of curiosity in his voice.
He was a smart guy. Of course his plan was going to work.
And to think he came up with it during a fifteen minute drive the night prior.
“Yes. He just… Asked me why I never told him that I was dating one of the members of My Chemical Romance.”
Gerard froze. It was subtle, but you saw it.
His mouth went dry.
All the color drained from his face.
Did you tell him that you were dating?
“What? Did you tell him that?” His voice sounded carefully neutral.
He knew that, no matter the answer, it would change things for him.
“Of course not. I just avoided the question.”
That hurt him.
He knew that you weren't actually dating.
He would do so much for you if you were actually dating. Gerard always put your boundaries as a priority, and that included the signals that you sent him.
This was a clear signal.
Because there is someone you see every day and definitely wanted to date you, someone who could offer you something that he couldn’t. On the other hand, you're spending your free time with him. And when the opportunity appeared to claim Gerard, even casually, you chose not to.

That was a message.
Whether you meant it that way or not.

The bell rang and he stood up to grab the food.
“I’ll get the food.”
His appetite had vanished.
But he still forced a smile when he returned. He chose to put Washed Away on the TV, a safe choice. A stupid animated movie about rats that did not not require any emotional effort.
You ate in silence, making a comment here and there about the rats on the screen.

That was until Gerard got a call on his phone. He excused himself and answered the call next to you.
You lowered the volume of the TV with the remote, barely listening of what was being said on the other side of the line. It was evident that it was about the show and the tour.
They spoke about the schedule, logistics, pick up time, documentation, things to keep in mind for the show. He said that he had packed already and everything was set and done.
You cleaned up after yourself. He tried to wave you off, saying that it was fine and that he could take care of that, but you had to wait anyway until he finished the call.
You needed something to make yourself busy.
Just like that, he hung up. You took turns to go to the bathroom and go to his bed. Which you have never been in before.
You expected some theatrical, burlesque, dramatic decor: black satin sheets with red pillows and a rose on the nightstand, but it wasn't the case. The opposite. The sheets and the pillow were white, soft cotton. Comfortable and quiet.
When Gerard returned, he slid under the covers beside you and you curled into him automatically. Both of you pretending to be more tired than you actually were.
“You gonna miss me?” He spoke against your hair. He loved the scent of your shampoo.
“You always come back, though.” Your arms wrapped around his torso, murmuring softly. “You’re really bad at leaving.”
“You’re really bad at letting me leave, then.” He chuckled quietly.
You did not know what to say. Not because you disagreed, but because you weren’t sure how much power you actually had over that choice.
It wasn't as if you could just stop him from going to work.
But you didn't know how much he was willing to do to be with you, if you only gave him the chance.
Neither of you moved. Then you spoke.
“What's the pickup time tomorrow?”
“At ten. You wanna go with me?”
“Sure.”

You fell asleep earlier than Gerard for the first time.
Gerard stayed awake longer, listening to your breathing, thinking.
Thinking about you, the tour, the distance. About your office and that Brendon. About the way you had said we’re not dating and how much that sentence should not have bothered him as much as it did.

His alarm rang exactly at eight o'clock.
Gerard extended his arm across the nightstand and silenced the alarm before it could ring again. Morning crept into the room through the curtains, forcing the routine to begin whether he wanted it to or not.
Brushing his teeth, quick shower, making breakfast.
The air between you felt strange. The tension and excitement lingered there, making you both feel uncomfortable. Neither of you said much while moving around the apartment.
It was a weird mixture between the inevitable pain of the goodbye and the happiness of what’s to come.
Gerard felt more conflicted than ever. He was at the most important moment of his life, career-wise, and had accomplished almost everything he had ever dreamed of. But he still felt empty.
Deep down, he knew exactly why.
“For how long do you leave, now?”
“Six weeks before we get a break.”
That felt longer than ever. Six weeks suddenly sounded much longer than it had the night before, especially now that he had begun to notice the small distance growing between you two.
He wanted to keep the possibility of something between you alive.
So he played the only card he had left.
“You can always come and visit me sometime.”
“How so? I can't afford it right now.”
“I’ll cover it.” He shrugged casually.
Money had started to lose meaning lately. Now, he knew that it was hard for the numbers to go down in his bank account and it had been years ever since he last saw the price tag on something and had to return it. But giving things to you still felt good.
He had the money and could not spend it all on himself.
“Can we stop by my place first? I would like to grab some clothes.”
“Sure, I’ll tell ‘em to come now.”
He called the driver and he agreed on set the trip a bit earlier than the scheduled time.
A few minutes later he lifted his suitcases from beside the couch and grabbed his keys, and the two of you stepped out of the apartment toward the elevator.
“Do you still get nervous when doing shows?”
“Kinda. Right now I'm more excited about the tour than nervous”
Gerard stood beside you, two suitcases resting near his legs, keys spinning absently between his fingers. His other hand leaned against the wall as the elevator hummed quietly down the building.
Neither of you mentioned that he would be leaving in only a few hours.
Outside, the black SUV was already waiting at the curb. The driver stepped out when he saw Gerard, opening the trunk to take the luggage. He nodded politely when he saw you, recognizing you from other times.
You nodded and slid inside into the backseat.
For the first few minutes, the drive was quiet. The city was active as always.
You leaned your head back against the seat and Gerard watched you for a second before looking out the window.
He wanted to say something, anything. But nothing felt right.
Part of him wished he could take this exact moment and seal it inside a glass jar, something he could open later during those days when he missed you like crazy.

The car stopped outside your building.

“I’ll be quick,” you said.
“Take your time,” Gerard replied.
You stepped out and hurried inside, already making a mental list of the things you needed. Jeans, sweater, perfume, smething comfortable for the show. Maybe a jacket.

Meanwhile, the moment the door closed behind you, the driver glanced at Gerard through the rearview mirror.
“That’s your girlfriend?”
Gerard hesitated, cheeks turning red.
The word hung in the air for a second longer than it should have.
“Eh, something like that,” he said finally.
The driver smiled knowingly.
“She seems nice.”
“Yeah,” Gerard said quietly. “She really is.”
He looked out the window toward the building entrance. Your modest apartment was very different from the one he lived in. You were extremely different from him.
And suddenly he realized something that had been bothering him for weeks.
He had no idea what to call what you were. You were not his girlfriend, not just a friend, but definitely not nothing.
And the worst part was that he had no idea what you called it either.
That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You returned a few minutes later with a small bag slung over your shoulder. Gerard immediately opened the door for you again.
“That was fast.”
“I packed like I was escaping a robbery.”
The driver pulled back into traffic.
This time the ride toward the venue felt busier. Gerard tried to keep the growing adrenaline under control, saving it for the show.
The closer you got, the more obvious it became where you were headed. Trucks and buses were already parked behind the venue. Crew members moved equipment in and out like clockwork. Your stomach tightened slightly.
“You nervous?” Gerard asked.
“A little. It’s not as if I’m gonna be in the stage.”
He smiled.
“Well, that’s good. Being nervous. That means you care.”

Inside the venue, everything moved quickly.
Gerard was pulled almost immediately into soundcheck discussions and stage logistics. Someone handed him a clipboard, Frank started talking about the setlist, and you watched it from a few steps away. He turned back to you briefly.
“You good?”
“Yup. Just watching you work.”
He leaned down and kissed you quickly before disappearing toward the stage.
For you two, the gesture felt like casual routine by now.
For the nearby crew members, it definitely was not.
You were not alone for long.
“Long time no see”
You turned and saw Mikey leaning against the doorway with a small grin, glasses resting on his nose.
“Gerard said you’d be here.”
You shared a quick hug, and he stepped aside so you could follow him down the hallway toward the backstage lounge where the rest of the band had gathered.
“You coming to watch soundcheck?” Frank asked.
You nodded.
From the side of the stage you watched them rehearse.
Gerard looked completely different under the stage lights. More confident, intense, concentrated.
You realize how many different versions of him you had been lucky enough to see.
The shy version of him, the nerdy version, the rockstar, the softer version of him after a good night together.
That uncomfortable feeling on your chest returned, which you were used to by now.

Later, while the band finished preparing, you stayed in the backstage lounge with them.
Gerard left to get his makeup done and change his clothes. Of course, the stylist was in charge of it.
Inside the dressing room, where Luna was already setting brushes and products across the counter.
“Okay, let’s get started.” She said casually, starting to prep his skin. They were chatting about some moisturizee for sensitive skin that she had gotten him, when she paused. Her tone carried curiosity, “The girl from earlier. She's back again.”
Gerard sat in the chair, letting Luna do her thing with his face.
“Yeah.”
Luna began working on his base makeup, her hands steady.
“She's cute. The guys like her, too.” He said nothing, just offered her a smile.
For a second Luna watched his reflection in the mirror, conflicted about whether to ask him or not.
“You don't have to answer if you don't want to, just curious. Are you two a thing?”
Gerard hesitated.
“It's complicated.”
She smiled lightly.
“It always is with you.”
Her expression stayed professional, but an idea flickered behind her eyes before she focused back on her work.

Back in the lounge, Frank leaned toward you.
“So.” You looked up.
“So?” you repeated, looking at his playful eyes.
“How long has this thing with Gerard been going on?”
You blinked.
Before you could answer, Mikey spoke from the other side of the couch.
“Do you work with Brendon?”
Your stomach dropped.
“How do you know Brendon?”
“I don’t know him,” Mikey said. “But Gerard mentioned him.”
Frank raised an eyebrow.
“Office guy?”
You suddenly felt very aware of the way they were looking at you.
It was not hostile, just curious. Boys were always more interested in gossip than what they showed.
The interest between them was genuine.
Before the conversation could go any further, a stagehand poked his head into the room.
“Mikey, your family just arrived.”
Your heart skipped. The conversation stopped for a while.
A few minutes later the backstage door opened again.
His parents stepped inside first. Behind them, a group of very excited people appeared.
Your coworkers. Mary spotted you immediately. Her eyes widened.
“Oh my God.”
Brendon looked around like a kid walking into Disneyland, trying to keep his composure.
“You were not kidding.” Frank glanced between you and the group. Then he leaned closer and whispered quietly in your ear “You really brought your entire office.”
You groaned softly.
“I wish I didn’t.”
Across the hallway, Luna finished adjusting the lace on the back of Gerard’s jacket and he turned toward the lounge entrance.
The moment he saw the crowd gathered there, he froze slightly.
The moment he saw your coworkers gathered around you, his eyes immediately found Brendon standing beside you.
And the small, amused smile that appeared on his face made your stomach flip again.
Tonight was going to be interesting.
You turned slightly toward the group, Gerard staying close to you.
Karla broke silence first. “This is my first time ever being backstage. This is so exciting.”
“It looks less glamorous up close, I promise.” Frank laughed as he walked past, watching as Mary dig through her bag beforepulling out a camera.
Within seconds everyone was shifting positions for photos. Mary insisted on several combinations, and you offered to take the pictures for them. First a group photo, and then one with each member individually.
Then Brendon stepped forward, talking to you as it was Gerard’s turn to take a picture with him.
“Do you mind if we take one with you too? ”
You nodded as you stood beside him for that one. Without thinking about it, Gerard’s hand settled at the small of your back, his fingers resting lightly there as he shifted closer. His arm brushed against Brendon’s side as he did.
It was barely noticeable, but you felt it immediately.
Brendon noticed it too.
The flash went off and the picture was done, but Gerard’s hand stayed there for a second longer before Mikey interrupted you.
“Our parents just got there. They wanted to say hi.”
Your stomach tightened. Do they think about you? Why do his parents want to see you?
Gerard glanced at you.
“You okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Mikey led the way down another corridor toward a quieter, smaller dressing room.
Inside, Gerard’s parents were standing near a small table with cups of coffee in their hands. His mother turned the moment the door opened, her blonde hair shifting as she looked up with immediate curiosity.
You suddenly felt very aware of how you were standing, where your hands were, how close Gerard was beside you and your clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin.
His mother approached with a warm smile that immediately softened the tension building in your chest.
“So you’re the one we’ve heard about.” You blinked, heat rushing suddenly through your face.
“You have?”
Gerard’s ears turned slightly red.
“Yes, Mickey and Gee absolutely adore you.” She stood up pulled you into a quick, affectionate hug. As you separated, his father shook your hand politely, shaking yours with a friendly nod. They tried to make small talk about the show, how proud they were of their children and how nice it was to see that they are still able to make good friends amidst the chaos of fame. Mikey occasionally added small comments.
You all were unaware of how Gerard watched the interaction quietly. Seeing you standing there with his family created a feeling in his chest he could not quite explain.
“They’ll need to start clearing this area soon,” Gerard glanced toward the door, then back at you, speaking quietly.
His mother stepped forward and touched your arm lightly.
“It was really nice seeing you,” she said with a gentle smile.
His father gave you a polite nod before following her toward the hallway. Mikey lingered just long enough to give Gerard a quick sibling look that felt half teasing, half curious. Then he disappeared after them.
Meanwhile, your guests were thrilled to know more of what went on behind the scenes. As they were talking with other people, Luna came up to you.
You were leaning against a table, looking through a few photos in Mary’s camera when Luna passed by, arms full of makeup and hair supplies.
She pauses for a second, looking at you with a half-smile.
“Your boy seems stressed tonight.”
You stop.
“My… what?”
She nods toward the dressing room door where Gerard disappeared minutes ago.
“Gerard. He’s been pacing for like twenty minutes.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head.
“He’s not my—”
Luna lifts an eyebrow.
“Right.”
Then she walks away before you can respond.

The comment sits in your head longer than it should.

You were on the lounge. You changed clothes and now you had your small bag with you.
Gerard looked down at you, one hand resting on his hip as if he was trying to decide what to say next.
“You should probably go now before it gets busier,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Neither of you moved.
There was an awkward pause where both of you seemed aware that this was the moment to say goodbye for now. It felt like a rehearsal for the real thing that will happen just hours from now.
You shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“Good luck tonight.”
Gerard let out a soft breath through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh.
“I think you’re supposed to say something tougher. We’re a rock band”
“Break someone else’s leg then.” You joked. “I wouldn’t wish that on you.”
His expression softened. He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice so the conversation stayed between the two of you.
“I think I’ll be able to see you from where you’re standing.” This time Gerard reached out and touched your wrist gently, his fingers warm against your skin. “Stay after the show,” he said.
It was not a question.
“I will.”
He seemed to relax slightly at that answer. Then he leaned forward and kissed you.
It was slow and deliberate, as if were reminding himself not to linger too long.
When he pulled away, his thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles before letting go.
“Have fun,” he said.
“You too.” You turned toward the hallway, forcing yourself not to look back as you stepped out of the room.

Your coworkers were waiting where you had left them, standing in a cluster near the corridor that led toward the audience entrance.

Mary spotted you first.
“Well?” she asked immediately.
“Well what?”
“Nothing.” Karla added quickly, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Brendon was watching you quietly. You ignored the look and gestured toward the main hallway.
“Come on. We have to go to our seats before they start pushing people out of backstage.”
Someone from the crew came with security, ready to scort you to your places.

The six of you followed the signs toward the main floor. The closer you got to the venue entrance, the louder the noise of the crowd became. Music played through the speakers while people found their seats.
When you stepped out into the open area near the stage, Mary stopped walking entirely.
“And to think that all of these people came for those guys.”
Rows of seats stretched out in front of you. The place was already filling with people. You didn’t have seats, instead you were looking at the show from the edges of the crowd near the stage.
Brendon stayed standing beside you.
He glanced toward the stage, then back at you.
“You’re staying with us?”
“I am. I am just… watching.” you said. You were nervous.
He nodded slowly. For a moment neither of you spoke, until you finally sat down next to him.
Then Brendon folded his arms loosely across his chest.
“You’re really not dating him?” he asked.
You sighed quietly.
“Brendon.”
“I’m just asking.”
“You already asked.”
He looked down the row where Mary, Karla and the other three guys from yout department were still excitedly talkingto each other. Then his gaze returned to you.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “You act like a couple. In every sense of the word.”
Your stomach tightened slightly.
“And you still say you’re not dating.”
You anxiously scratched the skin of your neck.
“It’s complicated.”
Brendon studied your face for a second longer, before he exhaled slowly.
“Relationships aren’t supposed to be complicated.” He looked at you with with disarming sincerity. “I just think you deserve someone who can give you what you want. And we all can tell that this” he gestured lightly toward the stage and the massive arena surrounding you “is not it.”
The comment landed harder than he probably intended.
Somewhere backstage, Gerard was getting ready. Probably, he was warming up.
And soon the entire room would be screaming his name.

The lights drop and the arena erupts.

The first chord hits like a wave rolling through the crowd. Thousands of people surge forward at once, screaming, some even crying.
Brandon leans closer so you can hear him over the noise.
“This show is insane.”
You laugh, nodding, eyes already on the stage.
The show was electric, the makeup making them look even more eccentric.
For a moment he looks out over the audience, scanning the lights and the moving sea of faces, the rhythm of song allowing him to take it slow.
Then he finds you.
It only lasts a second, but you feel it. His eyes lock on yours before he turns toward the microphone. The show begins.

Gerard moves across the stage wild, loud, completely alive. He belongs there.
But every few songs he drifts back toward your section, he had barely been to the opposite direction of the stage.
Meanwhile, your colleagues were having the time of their lives. Maybe it wasn't their favorite genre, but who doesn't love a live show?

At one point Brandon leans in to say something over the loud music, and you laugh. You don’t notice the way Gerard goes quiet for half a beat before starting the next verse.
Ray notices.
He bumps Gerard’s shoulder as they cross the stage, murmuring something you can’t hear.
Gerard just shakes his head and throws himself harder into the song.
By the last few songs, which were the most energetic, his energy shifted. There’s something sharper in the way he sings, something restless.

When you knew Helena will be the next song to play, the show has come to an end. You had to tell them that one of your girlfriends will come and pick you up, although no one believed it. You bid your goodbyes to your colleagues, scurrying across the narrow passages to get to backstage.

Waiting for him in the now quiet hallway, a few minutes later Gerard appears from the direction of the stage.
He had sweat dampening his hair, smudged eyeliner under one eye. The adrenaline of the performance still clung to him, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. You gave him a pack of makeup wipes.
“You stayed.” His fingers brushing yours when he grabbed the package.
“Yeah.”
His eyes drift past you, scanning the hallway.
“Where’s Brandon? And the rest?”
“They left.”
Gerard nods once, like he expected that.
You study him. The question had come too fast, too specifically. Out of everything he could have asked or said after the show, that had been the first thing out of his mouth.
“Why are you asking about him, specifically?”
“Just because he was around.”
“You mean standing next to me.”
Gerard removes his fingerless gloves and takes a wipe, starting to rub it against his skin. He scrubbed harder than necessary.
“I watched you two for half the show.”
“How can you even see us?” The lights were blinding against the darkness of the crowd, how could he spot you?
“It’s not that difficult. You two stood out.”
The tension in his voice makes your blood boil.
“You’re jealous.”
He scoffs in disbelief.
“No, I’m realistic.”
“About what?”

“He likes you.”

“And?”
And? You were seriously asking that?
The air between you felt charged now, heavy with the words neither of you had managed to say for weeks.
“He was flirting with you.”
You laugh in disbelief.
“Are you hearing yourself? It’s called conversation, Gerard.”
“It didn’t look like just conversation”
You take a step closer, lowering your voice.
“You don’t get to be jealous of him.”
His eyes flashed, and his heart started beating faster.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not your girlfriend.”
Gerard doesn’t answer because he really had nothing to say about it.
The accusation landed exactly where it hurt him the most, because part of him knew you were right.
“But he stays. He’s not leaving you for months.”
The words slipped out harsher than he intended, his frustration bleeding through.
“When Luna told me you were stressed today I didn’t believe her, now I see that she was right.” You crossed your arms. “Maybe she can help you out with that.”
Gerard turns immediately, half of his face clean of any residue. Surprise flickering across his features before irritation replaced it.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’m sure she knows you better than I do.” You were fuming. “She told me that my boy was feeling stressed.” You spoke, emphasizing her words.
Gerard mutters under his breath.
“She needs to stop saying that.”
You look at him.
“Saying what?”
“Stuff like that.”
“Like what? Like you’re my boyfriend?”
His jaw tightens.
That was the first time that you have ever said that word regarding him in a conversation.
He dragged a hand through his damp hair, buying himself a second to think, to slow down the storm already building in his chest.
“You know that’s not—”
You cut him off.
“Then what is it?”
Gerard exhales slowly. When he is angry, he gets carried away. Now he found himself trying to muster up the courage and patience to speak with the right words to not hurt you, to not say anything that might ruin whatever you had.
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s actually really simple.” You laugh quietly, but there’s no humor in it.
All the adrenaline drained from his body. He was exhausted, and this conversation was the nail on the coffin. The crash after the performance hit him all at once. The fatigue, the frustration and the sick realization that this moment had been coming for weeks.
“I’m about to get on a bus and disappear for weeks.”
“And?”
“And you deserve someone who’s actually there for you.”
The words sound familiar. That was almost the same thing Brendon told you. Hearing it from Gerard felt worse somehow, because he was confirming a fear you have been trying to ignore.
“Did Brendon tell you that line or did you come up with it yourself?”
“You talked about me with him?” His head snaps up, taking a step closer to you.
“He asked why I keep saying we’re not together.”
Gerard’s expression darkens.
Neither of you cared about the shadows of people around you, passing fast and pretending to be working on something, curiously trying to catch a glimpse of the conversation.
Right now, you had a tunnel vision directed towards him.
“And what did you tell him?”
“The truth.” You hold his gaze.
“And your truth is?”
“That I don’t know what we are.” Your voice was quieter, weak. Admitting it out loud, in front of him after everything that had happened, made the uncertainty feel heavier than ever. “If we're even anything.”
Gerard laughs once, bitterly.
“Yeah. Join the club.”
You could not believe it. Was he making a scene? Was he blaming you for something you have been asking him to do for weeks now?
Now you weren't tired, you were absolutely infuriated.
“You’re the one who won’t say it.”
“Say what?”
You take a step closer.
“That you want this.”
Your voice is quieter now.
His voice drops, his eyes looking up at the fluorescent lights of the hallway.
“I never said I didn’t.”
“But you also never say that you do.”
The noise of the crew faded into the background, the only thing that was present in his mind was you.
Gerard looks at you like he’s fighting something inside himself.
“We spent the night together and then I asked you to come today.”
“And you invited all my coworkers.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Then tell me the difference.”
Were you oblivious of all the things he did for you? You definitely had no idea of how many things he had to give up on just to spend an evening with you. How many fights he had with management to stop the rumors of him bringing girls everywhere with him. You didn't know the amount of beautiful people were throwing themselves at him and he dismissed them all because none of them were you. All of it felt invisible right now, erased by the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to say.
He hesitated, trying to speak but nothing came out. That hesitation hurts more than anything.
Because if you were in his position, you would have not doubted it for a second of an answer.
“You met my parents tonight.”
The words catch you off guard.
“No, you introduced me.” Your index finger pointing at his chest, you continued. “And then you kept watching me all night like I was doing something wrong.”
“You were with him.”
Rising your voice, you exploded.
“Because you won’t be with me.”
The sentence lands like a punch.
Gerard looks away, jaw tight, frustration growing inside of him. He let the wipes fall on the floor.
“I can’t do this right now.”
“So that's your answer. You mean you won’t.”
Another voice calls from down the hallway, screaming that the bus leaves in ten minutes.
Neither of you move.
Finally you say quietly,
“You should go, Gerard.”
Gerard’s eyes return to yours.
For a moment it looks like he’s about to say something.
Instead he just nods.
“Tell Brandon I say goodbye.”
The words are quiet but sharp.
You feel something inside your chest sink.
You were hating him right now.
And you still wanted the best for him.
“Good luck on tour.”
He takes a step back.
Then another.
And then he turns and walks down the hallway without looking back.
You stand there long after he’s gone, listening to the sound of the tour bus engine starting outside.
The low rumble vibrated faintly through the building, a reminder that the moment you have been dreading for so long has finally come.

Sometimes, when these kinds of conversations happened, you were surprised of what he was capable of saying. He had such a way with words that could charm you like a siren to death.
That had always been one of the things that drew you to him in the first place.
Gerard could turn the simplest sentence into something that lingered in your head for days, something that made you feel seen in a way nobody else did.
And tonight, for the first time in his life, he had chosen silence instead.
And somehow that silence hurt more than anything he could have ever possibly said.
Because if he had argued harder, if he had shouted, if he had said something cruel or careless, if he had treated you like trash, at least it would have meant he wasn't standing on a middle ground. That he had conviction of whatever he was feeling for you.
Instead, he had walked away carrying all those unsaid things with him, leaving them behind like ghosts in the empty hallway and your mind.