Well, well, well. It’s been an entire month’s worth of blog posts. Are you all feeling that fanfiction ache in your chest every Friday morning, immediately followed by a bit of self loathing?
So am I. I won’t delay anymore here is the fourth installment.
I stood up, and without so much as two words and went out to the concert arena. MCR was (I knew for a fact) in sound check right now.
Well, if you know FOR A FACT, then it must be true.
I’m shaking my head from side to side and silently sobbing for all the words I put through hell to make this story.
I walked to the first empty seat that I could find and plopped down. I waited for a half an hour until they finished. Green Day started there sound check shortly after.
Wrong there. Take a shot. How many is that now?
Frankie exited the arena right past me shooting me the coldest harshest glare I’ve ever seen. I took that as an anger sign.
Good, because that’s definitely what it was. If someone glares at you angrily they probably aren’t super pleased with your existence.
Gerard just walked past to the very back of the stadium sitting alone and depressed.
I walked over to him. Forlorn and depressed he didn’t even glance up.
This is like 3/4 of a sentence. ALSO I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IMAGINARY PSYCHIC POWERS I GAVE HER THAT SHE KNOWS ALL THIS SHIT ABOUT HOW PEOPLE FEEL WITHOUT ANYONE SAYING ANYTHING
“Gerard?” I asked softly. I sat a seat away from him. “Gerard I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that we weren’t friends. I just didn’t like you fussing over me then. I really do believe that we are friends. And I really want you to forgive me!” I said as tears slowly cascaded down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them back. I never cry. Never! This is the first time in I don’t remember how long that I’ve cried.
I’m fairly sure that you cried yesterday morning when everyone found you about to kill yourself. But your memory of your life is probably better than mine. OH WAIT, I created you.
I looked down letting the tears fall staining my ripped jeans.
Tears are literally just salt water, they can’t stain anything. Make it weird and hard and crinkly? That they can do.
I felt a warm hand wipe the tears off of my cheeks. I looked up to meet his hazel eyes.
Wow, wait. His eyes are hazel? I didn’t even know…
“You’re forgiven,” He said simply looking deeply into my teary eyes. I had this odd tingling sensation where his hands rested on my cheeks. He leaned in towards me ever so slightly, and I leaned towards him.
“Hello younglings!” Tre came over yelling at us. He walked in and sat in the chair between us.
Gerard looked considerably uncomfortable. I could tell because I felt the same way. He suddenly stood and walked towards the exit. About half way there he stopped and turned walking briskly back to me.
“Um, Maria, would you like to go out with me tonight?” He asked nervously, as if trying to find the right words. “I mean after our concert and all,”
In what fucking time? Again, never been on a tour of North America but I’m pretty sure you don’t have a lot of time after the concert to fuck around. It’s go out, maybe sign some autographs and talk to fans, then get the fuck on the bus and get to the next city.
“Wow, um, of course I will!” I said totally shocked. Gerard had asked me out! GERARD asked ME out. I thought that was like a one in a million chance.
Pretty sure the large foreshadowing hints I dropped earlier indicate that you’re the girl he was asking for advice about. Because that’s totally a thing guys do. /sarcasm
Gerard left and Tre turned to look at me.
“OOOOH! Maria’s got a boyfriend! Maria’s got a boyfriend!” Tre kept chanting like a five year old. I stood up shoving him back in his chair. I walked back to our bus and fell on my bed.
I felt a cold substance dripping down my back. I jumped literally two feet in the air. I hit my head on the bottom of the top bunk. I held where my head had hit and winced in pain. I looked up at the attacker. Billie Joe. I should have known that it was him. When we were growing up he always used to do that to wake me up when I was littler.
By definition if you were growing up you were younger than you are now. Honestly, how did so many people find this compelling enough to read on a continual basis?
“BILLIE JOE! ARE YOU ON CRACK? I WAS HAPPY!” I screamed at him. He just looked at me and laughed.
“As a matter of fact I was on crack. And I didn’t know that you were happy. Wait! You’re never happy! Why are you happy?” Billie Joe said confused.
“I’m happy because I have a date tonight!”
“You do? Who’s it with? Do I know him? Is he a nice boy?”
“Dude, you sound like mom!” I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Calm down! He’s a nice guy, and you do know him!”
“Alright, just bring him home after.” Billie Joe said walking towards the door. “Oh and the concert starts in about, 30 minutes. Be there in 10.”
“Alright, I’ll be there.” I said standing up. Billie Joe walked out of the bus followed closely by Mike and Tre who were both taunting me.
I walked over to my clothing supply, and fingered through them. I pulled out a green and black Tripp skirt, which I had gotten for my 20th birthday. I also pulled a green and black corset with the sleeves torn down to my shoulders. I finished my make up, heavy black and green smudged down so I looked almost dead with my pale complexion.
*pastes shitty quality screen caps of the Hot Topic website and a photo of a girl from MySpace who is probably still taking off her black eyeliner*
I walked to the arena and flashed the body guard my backstage pass. I made my way to the side stage area where MCR had just gotten on.
I watched and jumped and sang along, with MCR for almost the whole show. They were about to perform there last song, my personal favorite Cemetery Drive, when Gerard did something totally unexpected.
Another wrong there! That’s at least 5. Take another shot, friends!
“Alright,” He spoke into the microphone. “This last song is one that I really like and I hope that you will too. But I’d like to do something special with you.” He said to the crowd.
“Do you want to do something special New York!!??” Frankie screamed sweat falling from his hair.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!” The crowd screamed. I could see random colors of hair shine up towards the stage.
Realistically you wouldn’t be able to see much more than a mass of movement and vague shapes of people because stage lights are fucking bright
“Cool! Now what I’m going to do has never been tried at an MCR concert, ever! So Ray, would you bring out the lucky lady?” He asked looking at Ray. Ray walked off stage and over to me.
“You’re the star of the night madam!” He said pulling my hand. I dug my combat boot heals into the floor and resisted. I hated performing, ironic I know but I did.
“NO! I am not going out there!” I said shaking my head at Ray.
“Yes you are!” He said picking me up and carrying me out there bridal style. He placed me down next to Gerard and walked over to his normal stage position.
There are so many things wrong with this idea that I literally don’t even know where to start.
1. Why did no one ask her if she wanted to go on stage?
2. How do they know she can sing?
3. Why are they forcing her to do it against her will?
4. What is the fucking purpose musically, entertainment-wise, or plot-wise?!
“Alright! This is the lady of the hour, Maria Armstrong. She will be singing for you tonight along with me!” Gerard said handing me a microphone. He cued in Mikey and Frankie and the music started, and Gee started singing. I came in when Gee poked me in the side.
I could just see the crowd go silent as I sang with Gee. “How could you do this? What are you thinking? Are you insane? We both know that you can’t sing at all! Stop that! Stop!” My conscience yelled at me as I sang my heart out. The song ended and I almost screamed in relief. Gerard said good night to the crowd and Green Day headed on stage.
Once I was in the little backstage place Gee picked me up and twirled me around.
“You were terrific!” He said placing me on my feet.
“Thank you! But you sure know how to make a girl scared,”
“Sorry, let me just go get changed and shower and I’ll be right out.” He said walking back to the buses with the rest of the guys. I sat on the little chairs that they had set up and fiddled with the hem of my skirt. About 20 minutes later I felt a pair of warm hands on my hips.
If you’re sitting… how did someone put their hands on her hips? That physically doesn’t make sense.
I turned around to see Lisa obviously drunk off her ass.
“Hey, Maria! How are ya tonight?” She asked slurring her words together. I took her hands and moved them to my neck. I carried her over to Green Day’s bus. I had this odd feeling Billie Joe would be able to help her. So I dropped her on the couch leaving a bucket next to her.
I went to the back of the bus in search of Billie Joe. I found him there, I also found Tre and Mike and about three bottles of Jack Daniels. Luckily they weren’t opened.
Weren’t they literally just on stage? Do they have clones? Or the ability to control time? Did I understand time at 12? Did I have a degenerative memory disease or something? GREEN DAY GET ON STAGE LIKE 2 PARAGRAPHS ABOVE HOW ARE THEY ALREADY DONE WITH THE SHOW?!
“BJ, I need your help with something,” I said quietly standing in front of my brother.
“Do you need me right now? We’re doing our traditional Jack Daniels drinking party!” He said holding up a glass full to the brim with the stuff. I personally loved Jack Daniels but I didn’t drink nearly as much as BJ did.
Pretty sure that’s not a party, just three middle aged men getting drunk on a bus.
“Yes I do unless you want Lisa to die because she choked on her own barf” I said raising my voice a little.
“Oh alright!” He whined placing his glass on the floor and following me back out to the living area.
“OK. I left a bucket there just you know incase. And I thought that since you’re almost always drunk or hung-over you’d have something to help,” I said leaning against the sink in the kitchen area.
“Yup I got just the stuff. Can you open that cabinet and hand me the brown bag?” He asked pointing to the cabinet behind me. I did as told and he took out a HUGE pill and forced it down Lisa’s throat. She groaned. In pain I think. I’m not quiet sure. Of course I still had to get to see Gerard. Oh my dog! Gee! I rushed out of that bus faster then you could say supercalafrajalisticexpialadoshious. I don’t think I spelled that right. Oh well.
There’s that biting self referential humor that was so commonplace in fanfic then. Oh it’s not funny? Or biting? Or good at all? Well then…
I ran out and to the MCR bus jumping the steps to the front. I climbed in to see Gerard just about to walk out.
“Couldn’t wait could you?” He asked with that sexy half smile that he gives.
“I could. I just wanted to let Frankie know that Lisa is on the Green Day bus because she’s drunk off her ass.” I said smugly looking back at him the same way.
“What about Lees?” Frankie asked coming out with the Frankie doll I made for him.
BUT WHEN DID YOU BECOME FRIENDS? IN WHAT TIME DID SHE MAKE THIS FOR YOU?! AND WHY WOULD SHE BE FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE BUT GERARD?! I have so many questions that will never have answers because I can’t go back in time and interview myself.
“Dude I can’t believe that you still have that dumb doll!” Gerard said poking the doll.
“Hey! I happen to like it. It looks like me in the Helena video and that’s where Lisa like’s me most! So ha on you!” Frankie said walking out of the bus.
“So are we going to go now or are we going to wait here for the next 15 minutes?” I asked sitting on the couch.
“I thought that we could go out to eat at this nice little café; then I have a surprise for you,” Gerard said taking my hand and leading me towards the door.
“So The Gerard Way is going out with a girl who is only famous because she’s lucky enough to be sisters with a famous guy, that’s interesting,” I said looking at Gerard as we walked down the street.
“Well I don’t care if you’re famous or not. I think that you’re a really cool girl.” He said holding my hand to his cheek. My cell phone started to ring. I pulled it out and checked caller ID. My worst nightmare was on the other end.
And my teen angst definitely has a body count. It’s 1. It’s me. I killed myself because I’m so embarrassed by this “story”.
I wish I could say it gets better… but I think it just doubles down and gets even worse-but-great.
“Hello?” I asked answering it scared.
“Hey baby,” The voice retorted coyly.
“Don’t Baby me! I broke up with you 5 months ago!” I screamed into the phone.
“Come on! Can’t we make up?” he asked me.
“No we can’t!” I said slamming the phone shut.
“Who was that?” Gerard asked as we approached the café.
“That was just my ex,” I said stiffly not wanting to bring up him.
I don’t have a lot of experience with ex-boyfriends (read: one) but I’m fairly sure they don’t randomly call you out of nowhere five months later to try and win you back with a “Hey baby,”
In fact this is exclusively something a 12 year old girl who had never been kissed would find romantic.
We walked into the little café. Well it was more an alternative café. It wasn’t so much a café as a hang out for rockers, punks, emos, Goths. Not that I like to label social groups that’s just what it was.
If you’re saying that’s what it was then you’re labeling them. But, of course, it’s not cool to have a label. It’s cool to be ~*different*~
We found a little table towards the back. The lighting was dim and the music was loud. I hummed along to Simple Plan’s Addicted as I read the menu.
“So are you going to tell me who your ex is?” Gerard asked after ordering his latte.
“One I never figured you a latte kind of person. Two his name was Matt Jones, we went out for a grand total of 4 months,” I started.
That’s the name of the guy I catfished at the same time I was writing this story.
“He was like totally obsessed with me and I just didn’t like him. I only did go out with him because he was BJ’s old drummer and I felt bad for him.” I wrapped up. Gee looked at me confused.
“Then why don’t you want to talk to him, if all he did was be kind of obsessed with you?” Gerard asked looking at me.
Yeah, man, it’s like with Kesha. I don’t understand why she can’t work with her abuser and rapist. Just baffling… /sarcasm
“Well, because he keeps on wanting to get back together now only because if he does he’ll get his 15 minutes of fame.” I stated matter-of-factly. Our drinks came and the barista stood there trying to flirt with Gerard.
“Um, excuse me?” I asked interrupting their giggle fit.
“What?” She asked dryly and with a hint of annoyance.
“Could I have my latte?” I asked pushing a little. She slammed my latte down on the table. I took it and inspected it, nothing bad, nothing spit, nothing wrong. I sipped it slowly savoring its hazelnutty flavor. I inhaled the scent forgetting that Gee and the barista (who’s name I think is Tiffany) were shamelessly flirting.
The fact that Gee would flirt with someone on our date wasn’t what shocked me. He was a guy and he was a celebrity, it was kind of expected of him. What did shock me was that she was rather preppy. She had pointed pink stilettos, a pleated pale pink mini skirt (that might I add was WAY too short), and a white tube top. The last time I remember Gerard looking at someone dressed like that was warped tour 2 years ago. And then it was only because she practically jumped him.
Definitely against every single cafe dress code in the country. Stilettos at work? Hell no, you do not want to be wearing four inch heels while on your feet for eight hours.
Well, that was quite a whirlwind of a chapter. First they’re sad, then they’re happy, then everyone is sad again. Tune in next week to find out how many more of my friends I can drag into this disaster with me. Plus: a bunch of teenage heartbreak that actually happens to a “26 year old”!