Work Text:
“Now, was there anything else?”
I tapped the pen in my left hand against the clipboard in my right, muttering to myself. My eyes quickly scanned over the list I’d made earlier that day. Frank’s broken guitar string had been replaced. I’d ordered an even longer extension cord for the microphone so that someone could sling it all over the stage. Settings on the light that had nearly blinded Ray last night had been adjusted.
After checking off several more tasks, I made it to the bottom of the list and huffed, drawing a couple of large circles around the last line item. Water for the bus. That was what I still needed. I glanced at my watch, contemplating whether now was a good time for a convenience store run.
I decided it was. No one at the venue should’ve really needed me for the next little while. Besides, it had been a fairly quiet day on tour, to the extent that such a thing could even exist. Our whole crew could use a re-stock on snacks, too. With that key piece of motivation in mind, I tucked the clipboard under my arm, then left our base of operations backstage and headed towards the parking lot.
My plans were waylaid, though, when I passed an open dressing room door.
“Hey, Erin!”
I caught myself and backtracked a few steps, glancing in through the doorway. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. “Yes?”
The touring band’s lead singer was seated on a couch, one leg crossed over the other. He had a sketchbook in his lap and was drawing something by the yellow light of a table lamp. How he’d even noticed me walking by with his eyes down, I wasn’t sure. Every one of them seemed to have a sixth sense that let them find me whenever they needed something.
Having gotten my attention, Gerard set the pencil and drawing pad aside and stood, stretching his arms and neck. He was still in unassuming street clothes, not yet transformed into the post-apocalyptic gang leader that he’d become later in the night. His casual tee and worn-in jeans would be swapped for skintight leather and walk-all-over-you boots soon enough. Even now, though, his bright red hair kept him from being mistaken for someone entirely normal.
Gerard seemed to take note of my demeanor as he lowered his arms, frowning slightly in contemplation. “Sorry, you look kinda busy. D’you have a minute?”
“Sure thing,” I said lightly. I could always make time for the band. I crossed the threshold into the small room and saw that no one else was there. “What’s up?”
“Did I tell you about the sculpture?”
I blinked at him. Since the tour supporting Danger Days had started a couple months ago, I’d learned that Gerard had a lot of ideas. Like, all the time. Some of them stuck, some of them didn’t; some of them he actually mentioned to me out loud, others he just thought about really hard. This one, until now, had fallen into the latter category.
I laughed softly, leaning back against the wall by the door frame. His plans were detailed, more often than not, so I figured I might as well settle in. “No, I don’t think so. What do you need a sculpture for?”
He nodded, realizing he would need to explain. “Well, we’re going to make a video for Party Poison, right? And we’re still bouncing ideas around, but we know there’s gonna be cuts to some shots of this crazy house party.”
That part sounded familiar. He had mentioned the video before, at least. “Okay, sounds fun. Do you need me to help find props to test out?” I generally played no part in the creative force behind music videos or anything promotional. I worked strictly behind the scenes helping to manage day-to-day operations, but if the guys needed something while they were on the road, I was usually the person who’d get it for them.
Gerard batted the idea away with a hand, though. “Nah, nothing like that. But we are planning to break a bunch a’ fancy stuff, including a bust. Like, a statue. I figured I could make it,” he said.
I raised my eyebrows, curiosity piqued. “You can sculpt?” Gerard was obviously artistic, but I had never heard him mention this particular skill before.
“Yeah! Well, sorta,” he amended, tilting his head from side to side. “I learned how in art school. It’s been a long time since I’ve done it. But I thought this would be a good excuse to practice, y’know? And then we could get this really dramatic shot of it being destroyed in slow motion.” He swept his hands down and out, imitating something falling and shattering.
I smiled and shook my head, baffled that the man would willingly pour hours of work into something only to destroy it in seconds. He continued. “And fans love Easter eggs in videos and stuff, so I figured if I could make it of someone we know, that’d be even better.”
I digested the plan in my mind for a moment. I always enjoyed hearing about the small surprises and breadcrumb trails they'd leave for fans. “Yeah, that’d be really cool. Who’re you gonna use?”
Gerard gave me a lopsided smile, hands going into his back pockets almost bashfully. “Well, I was hoping it’d be you. Do you wanna be a sculpture model?”
My own smile faltered as I finally realized how this all involved me. After a few seconds, I let out an eloquent, “O-oh.” I shifted my weight on my feet. “Um, why would you want me to do it?” I asked him, hoping it didn’t come across as rude.
Gerard either didn’t register my brusque tone or wasn’t bothered by it. “Well, the party we’re crashing is supposed to be at a rich dude’s house. So it’d be good for the statue to look like an heiress, or maybe the guy’s wife,” he explained with a shrug. “Plus, you do a lot for us and you’re a big part of the tour, but you’re always out of the spotlight. We thought it’d be fun to get you in a video this way.” His hazel eyes were wide and optimistic.
I wasn’t entirely sure I followed his logic, but he sounded certain that it was what he wanted. I would probably go along with it for that reason alone. When, exactly, had I become such a sucker for these guys? And for this one, in particular? We hadn’t even met six months ago, and this was far from my first time out on the road with a band. But they’d all wormed their ways into my heart quickly. Now, I would do most anything they asked.
The problem was that they were starting to realize it.
I pushed my shyness down the best I could. I wasn’t the most confident in my appearance, so the idea of being in a music video was unappealing, at first. But it’s not like he’d asked me to physically be in the video, I reasoned. There was also no way this would draw much attention to me. At most, some dedicated fans would learn my name as a trivia fact.
I glanced back up at Gerard. I knew he’d never make anyone uncomfortable on purpose. Besides, it was a cool idea—I’d probably regret it later if I said no. I took a breath and relented.
“Okay. Sounds like fun.” I smiled at him, relaxing my posture a bit. “What do I need to do?”
He grinned, eyes lighting up. “Awesome! I’ll just need to get some photos and measurements and stuff.” His gaze flicked up and down briefly, assessing me again as he ran a hand back through his neon hair, tugging at the roots. “Were you on your way somewhere when I stopped you? I could get those now, if you’ve got the time.”
If I did this now, I wouldn’t have the chance to back out or overthink my visage being in one of their videos. Permanently. For the entire world to see.
“Sure, let’s do it,” I said, beating back my insecurities again. The bottled water could wait.
He smiled again, more softly this time. “Thanks, Erin. Uh, do you wanna sit down?” He pulled a plastic folding table away from one of the walls into the middle of the room, then pushed armchairs up to either side. I sank into the one closest to me, thanking him. Somewhere in my brain, I registered that it was the first time I’d been off my feet in several hours. It felt nice.
“I’m just gonna go get my things off the bus. Shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes,” he assured me.
“Alright, I’ll be here.” He nodded once and was gone.
I passed the time jotting down a shopping list for whenever I did go to the store, but Gerard wasn’t gone for long. He soon reappeared with the familiar canvas bag containing his art supplies slung over one shoulder.
“Okay,” he said, setting it down on the table. He unzipped the bag and started taking things out: colorful markers, a measuring tape, and a bulky digital camera. He rummaged through a bit more, surveying what was in there, but didn’t pull out anything else. “That should be everything we need.”
He looked back up at me, getting down to business. “So, I’ll need to get a bunch of photos from different angles to use for reference,” he started. “And I’m gonna make it to scale, so I’ll need to take some measurements, too. And it’s easier to measure between points, so I might, like, draw a couple dots on you, if that’s okay.” He picked up the package of markers and scanned the back of it, looking for something. “Yeah, these are non-toxic. And washable, apparently. Would that be alright?” He glanced at me again for confirmation, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Sure. Do I need to do anything to my hair or clothes, or…” I trailed off, picking at the neckline of my shirt. I wasn’t familiar with any part of the sculpting process, but I figured my ponytail and tee weren’t the best fit for a formal bust. Gerard shook his head, though.
“Nah, those’ll be a lot easier to freehand than facial features. And I’ll be stopping just below your shoulders,” he said, holding his hand horizontal at his own sternum to show me. I nodded my understanding, and Gerard took a seat in the chair across the table.
“Okay. Thanks again for agreeing to be my model,” he said, turning the camera on and fiddling with the settings. Once he had it how he wanted, he glanced up at me briefly. Then he did a double-take and looked more closely, eyebrows furrowing. He sounded concerned when he spoke again. “Hey, you’re sure you don’t mind doing this?”
Even though we hadn’t started yet, I automatically felt self-conscious in front of the camera. My uneasiness must’ve been showing on my face.
“I don’t mind. I think it’s a good idea,” I repeated, flashing what I hoped was a reassuring smile. A question was nagging at the back of my brain, though. “Just checking… these pictures aren’t going anywhere, right?”
Gerard’s eyes seemed to soften in understanding, and he shook his head. “No, I promise. I’m not trying to document the ‘making-of’ process or anything. They’ll just be on this camera. I’ll even delete them when I’m done,” he said, tapping the side of it. The certainty in his voice left no room for doubt.
It was a small gesture, but one that genuinely made me feel better. I took a deep breath, loosening my clasped hands in my lap. “Okay, great. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said, giving me a small smile. “Ready to get started, then?” His kind eyes were trained on me, looking for any remaining traces of hesitation. I nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” he said, adjusting his hold on the camera. “Let me get a few photos straight-on first.”
I shifted in the chair to straighten my back, then stared directly at the camera while Gerard snapped a few photos. He lowered it after a minute, looking pensive. “I hadn’t really thought about what expression we would use. Can I get some of you smiling, too?”
I agreed and tried to smile demurely, in a way that might suit a statue. I must not have done too bad a job, because Gerard made an approving sound. The camera clicked as he captured a few more photos. “Good. Now, tilt your chin up.”
Our session continued with Gerard capturing images of my face in profile from both sides, smiling and not smiling. As we got into the swing of things, I was actually starting to have a good time. It was fun to be directed by an artist. Still behind the camera, he said, “Okay, can you give me a three-quarter view?”
I turned my face what I thought was halfway back towards him. “Little more,” he prompted. I moved again and he chuckled. “Liiiiittle less.” I tried to follow the directive, but he hummed as if it still wasn’t quite right. I started to laugh, amused at my own failure.
Gerard set the camera down. I turned back to face him head-on, ready to apologize, but I didn’t get the chance. “Here,” he said, leaning forward and reaching across the table. He took my chin in his hand and carefully positioned my face exactly where he wanted it, a focused look in his eyes. “Right there,” he said, pulling his hand back slowly. I stayed stock-still, out of surprise as much as anything else, while he picked the camera back up and got a couple photos. I only hoped that I wasn’t blushing.
He spoke again a second later, sounding slightly awkward as his thoughts caught up with his actions. “Sorry, I—uh, that wasn’t cool. I should’ve asked before I did that.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” I assured him, being careful to not move my head. And it was the truth. I’d come to trust Gerard completely over the past few months, and being on tour together definitely made our group closer than normal coworkers. But having a crush on a famous client was already not a great situation, and I knew any gentle touches—even completely innocent ones—would only serve to make it worse.
Not that Gerard had any clue about that. At least, I sincerely hoped he didn’t. My unprofessionalism was my own cross to bear. But he was sweet, and thoughtful, and fiercely talented, and an all-around lovely person. So really, it had been inevitable.
There had been a few moments, sure, when I thought maybe he felt something, too. But it was most likely wishful thinking. Contrary to the irreverent, dangerous band leader that some media outlets described, Gerard was so damn big-hearted that it was sometimes hard to tell whether he was just being friendly or if his actions meant something more. I couldn’t confirm whether he knew that bringing me coffee was the fastest way to earn my affection. Or if he remembered me saying the first week that I felt uneasy staying on the ground floor of a hotel, and if that was why he’d swap our room keys if his was higher up. Or, the biggest stretch of all, if he’d actually put Prison back in the setlist simply because I said it was my favorite song of theirs to hear live.
Regardless, nothing he’d ever done had made confessing seem remotely worth the risk. Not to mention the fact we all had jobs to do that needed our full focus. So, I told myself it was probably all for the best.
Once he’d finished taking photos of that angle, Gerard lowered the camera to scroll back through what he had so far. I started talking to fill the quiet. “So, what are the other guys doing this evening?”
“Not too sure,” he replied, squinting at a photo on the small screen. “Mikey said he was going to walk around to check on merch tables, but that was before doors. I’d guess that Ray and Frank are practicing somewhere. They’ve been working on a couple new things together.”
I hummed in response. “Do those look okay?” I asked, nodding towards the camera.
My question hung in the air until he finished his review. “Yeah! So far, so good,” he confirmed, sounded pleased. “Let’s get that same view on the other side.”
I tried to put my head where it was supposed to be, but again, I didn’t quite succeed. Gerard reached out again, having my permission now, and gently guided me down and to the left. “There we go,” he said quietly. He took several photos while I tried to forget the warmth of his touch.
After going through a few more positions, Gerard put the camera down. “Okay. On to the measurements.” He opened the plastic packaging on the markers and selected a green one. “You’re sure you don’t mind if I draw on your face?”
I laughed lightly. “Depends what you draw, but dots for measuring are fine.”
One side of his mouth quirked up into a smile. He uncapped the marker and rolled his eyes playfully. “Okay, fine. I won’t give you a sick dragon tattoo, then.”
I laughed again, leaning across the table towards him so he wouldn’t have to reach as far. He stood, resting one forearm on the table and meeting me halfway. His expression turned to one of full concentration as he studied my face in what I could only describe as an academic way. It felt like he was mapping each of my features in turn.
After a moment, he spoke. “I probably only need a couple dots, really. Most distances I can measure without them. But it would help to mark where the top of your nose is. And I should definitely get the centers of your eyes, too. I’ll make dots just below ’em.”
“Okay, sure. Whatever you need.”
“I’ll do the top of your nose first. Don’t move…” He carefully put a dot just above the bridge of my nose, applying light pressure with the marker. “Okay, eyes next. Look straight at me.”
I didn’t have to be told twice. Close up, without the camera obscuring him, I was reminded yet again just how pretty he was. All pale skin and delicate features—it was amazing just how ferocious he could look on stage. His lips were parted slightly in focus and messy red hair was falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was getting long; I couldn’t help but think that it suited him.
We locked eyes for a moment before he shifted just slightly to position the marker near my face again. “Just be really still,” he said quietly, then centered a tiny dot below each of my eyes.
I stayed frozen afterwards, waiting to see if he decided to mark anything else, but he just looked at me thoughtfully. A long moment passed in silence. His closeness started to make me antsy, and I resisted the urge to either move back or throw all caution to the wind and kiss him.
“You… have really blue eyes,” he observed at last. His voice sounded far away, but honest.
I only hoped he didn’t see my throat bob when I swallowed. “Th-thanks.” How the hell did I respond to that?
“Yeah… yeah, sure thing.” Gerard pulled back to his side of the table, perhaps noticing my confusion. He cleared his throat, coming out of whatever haze he’d been in. Looking somewhat distracted, he quickly traded in his marker for the measuring tape.
“Okay, then. On to the last step.” His eyes scanned the table again, and he nodded towards my clipboard. “Can I get a piece of paper?”
I passed him one, along with my pen, so he could write down the dimensions. Our fingers brushed slightly during the exchange.
“Thanks.” Gerard looked at me squarely again. To both my relief and disappointment, his expression was all business once more. “As long as we’re here, I’m gonna get quite a few measurements. Probably more than I need, but it should keep me from coming back and asking for more,” he said.
I smiled, feeling the tension dissipate as the atmosphere in the room eased back towards normal. “No problem. Just tell me what to do.”
“Let’s see… I’ll get the width of your shoulders first.” He leaned over the table and stretched the tape across my front with one hand at each shoulder. After a few seconds’ pause where his eyes flicked back and forth, he muttered a number and drew back to write it down.
“I feel like I’m being fitted for a suit,” I joked. Gerard grinned, eyes still on the paper. “Sorry, I never did learn tailoring.”
“That’s alright. Seems like you learned just about everything else,” I said without really thinking about it. I bit my lip immediately after. I’d meant it sincerely—the man had a lot of talents—but I didn’t want to embarrass him. His expression melted into a modest smile in response, but he said nothing.
He put the pen down. “I’ll get your neck next.” He held the measuring tape up again, just barely touching my throat and eyeing the projected distance across. I felt my heartbeat pick up irrationally and mentally kicked myself. He scribbled something else down on the paper. “Okay, onto the face.”
Gerard continued taking measurements, recording the dimensions of my features and distances between them. “So, did you have a model when you did this during art school?” I asked, glancing back and forth between the careful movements of his hands and his intent expression.
“Yeah, actually. They made us model for each other,” he said, exhaling a quiet laugh. He’d moved in closer to read the markings on the tape, and I just barely felt the breath against my cheek. I hadn't known what I was signing up for when I agreed to do this. Whether the knowledge would have made me agree faster, or refuse altogether, was up for debate.
“The biggest thing I remember is the guy I got would not sit still,” Gerard continued. I snapped my attention back to his words, and he shook his head at the memory. “I do like having a model, though. Most of the work I do is so stylized. I like bending the rules however I want, usually, but it’s a fun challenge to try to replicate someone real.”
I gave a smile and a tiny nod, trying not to throw him off as he took a measurement across my eyebrow. “It’s nice to not have to worry about staring, too,” he added.
I frowned, probably actually screwing up his measurement this time, before quickly returning to a neutral expression. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s usually rude to stare at people, y’know? But you have to if you’re taking measurements and stuff for a sculpture. It gives you time to actually, like, appreciate someone’s face. See the details of what makes them unique.” I wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so I stayed quiet under the guise of not wanting to interfere with his process. He chuckled as a thought seemed to occur to him, flicking his eyes between mine and the measuring tape. “You don’t actually have to stare at me during this part, though. If you wanna close your eyes or look somewhere else or something, that’s totally fine.”
He leaned back again, writing something down as I pondered his statement. Looking ahead was the easiest thing to do, physically. And I certainly hadn’t minded the excuse to stare back.
Gerard picked up the tape again, glancing over the list of measurements he had so far. “Okay, turn to the side and I’ll get a couple on your ear.”
I did as he said while carefully formulating a response. Having him this close had worn down my composure and was making me feel jittery. On top of that, his comment earlier had rekindled the foolish hope that he might feel the same way I did. With my heart thumping in anticipation, I decided to toss a remix of his own words back at him.
“Staring at you’s not so bad, though,” I started slowly. “You’ve got really pretty eyes. They’re nice to look at.” It sounded bolder out loud than it had in my head. Shit. Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I tried my damndest to look like I hadn’t just said something that crossed a line.
The way my head was positioned, I could only see Gerard out of the corner of my eye. I resisted the near-overwhelming urge to turn and check his reaction. But I heard and felt him pause what he was doing.
A few seconds of agonizing silence ticked by as I wondered just how royally I’d fucked up. Then, he moved his hands away. “Look back at me,” he said. If there was any emotion in his voice, I couldn’t place it.
I did as he said. I thought for a moment that he was just going to take another measurement and completely ignore my comment, which may have been the most merciful route. But when our eyes met again, he looked at me searchingly. I held his gaze, drawing in a nervous breath.
After a long moment, Gerard raised a hand to gently cup the side of my face. At first, my frazzled mind thought maybe he was going to reposition me again, but the affectionate stroke of his thumb across my cheek said otherwise. I felt heat bloom in my face, rising to meet his touch. Almost painfully slowly, he leaned across the table towards me.
“Let me know if I’m reading this wrong,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips. He was giving me every opportunity to back out, but I didn’t need them. I shook my head, finally convinced this wasn’t just wishful thinking, and moved forward.
The first kiss was soft, even tentative. It lasted all of two seconds before we both drew back and looked at each other, wanting to be absolutely sure. After a moment of silent confirmation, we moved back in like two magnets drawn together.
The second kiss was just as gentle, but blissfully longer. Gerard’s lips were warm, pressing unhurriedly against mine. His hand, still at my cheek, moved carefully down to trace the side of my neck. I lifted a hand to thread in his hair, pulling him forward just slightly in reassurance and holding him to me. After several moments, we pulled apart again.
The two of us simply stared at each other at first. I was speechless and, somehow, out of breath. Finally, I cracked a smile, shifting my hand to tuck some of Gerard’s tousled hair behind his ear. He grinned back at me. He seemed to be about to speak when we heard quick footsteps in the hallway.
We both jumped back in another synchronized move just before Mikey poked his head in the door. I turned around in my seat to look at him, and he nodded to me before addressing his brother, clearly on a mission. “Hey, Gee, you should probably start getting ready. We still need to test out those new in-ears before we go on.” He paused, noticing something was off. His eyes darted between the two of us as a confused look overtook his face. “Are you guys okay?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but said nothing. The endless stream of gibberish occupying my mind would not have been helpful. Luckily, the frontman bailed us out.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Gerard said, his tone very nearly passing as normal. “Just getting some, uh, measurements for that sculpture we talked about.” He gestured towards the supplies on the table, as if needing to prove that it was true. “I’ll meet you guys in the room by the stage in, like, two minutes. Okay?”
Mikey didn’t look fully convinced, but nodded slowly anyway. “Okay, sure. See ya in a few.” He half-waved in my direction, and I returned the gesture on a slight delay. He gave us both one more mildly concerned look, then was gone.
Gerard cleared his throat. I turned my body back from the empty doorway to face him.
He looked uncertain about whatever he wanted to say, and I took a moment to marvel at the duality of man. He was aggressively, unfailingly confident on stage, but a different person entirely here.
After a few seconds, he finally spoke. “So, that wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head. He looked at me hesitantly to gauge my reaction, hazel eyes unsure.
My heartbeat picked up speed again, and I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I have, too.” I laughed softly, surprised and happy. “I really like you,” I added, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It was something I’d told myself over and over that I wasn’t allowed to say, and now here I was, telling it to the last person who was supposed to know.
He grinned, looking relieved. “Great. That’s great. And you’re great, too. I guess I gotta run for now, but… can we talk after the show?”
I nodded again, feeling soothed by his response and slightly dazed all at once. “Yeah. We should do that.”
Gerard stood up from his chair. “Okay. Awesome.” He threw the items on the table back into his bag haphazardly, folding up the paper he’d been writing on. “I probably got all the measurements I need. I, uh, was taking a little more time than I had to,” he admitted. When I registered his meaning, my face grew warm yet again.
“You can wash those dots off, if you want,” he added. I touched a hand to my face, nodding. I’d almost forgotten about them already.
Gerard headed for the door, and I followed him with my eyes until I had to twist around in my chair to keep him in view. He turned back at the last second, smiling at me fondly. “I’ll see you after the show, Erin.” He blew me a kiss from the doorway. It was cheesy as all hell, but somehow, it made me fall for him that little bit more. A moment later, he disappeared around the corner.
I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, a huge grin finally splitting my face as all my nervous energy came bubbling to the surface. One of the thoughts in my cacophonous mind rose triumphant above the rest: this had been so much better than going to buy water.
After taking a minute to regain higher brain functions, I stood up and put the table and chairs back where they’d been before. I grabbed my trusty clipboard and pen, clicking it several times for good measure. My next move, I decided, should be to go make sure the set-up crew had everything squared away for the show. Right. People were looking forward to a great concert tonight, and even if I was hopelessly distracted, I’d do my part to make sure it went off without a hitch.
I stepped back out into the hallway, all but walking on air. I would probably watch the show from the stage wings, as per usual. It was something I always enjoyed. But as much as I loved seeing the band perform, tonight, I was even more excited about what would come after the show.