Chapter Text
"Hey, (y/l/n), can you do me a solid and run to the store for me? I really want a Snickers bar and the machine's out," Frank Iero says, taking a stack of folders from your arms and setting them on the manager's table.
You nod immediately. "Yes, Mr. Iero. No problem." You don't bother telling him there is another machine down in the basement, one that hasn't even been touched. He told you to go to the store, so you'll go to the store. Its less than a block away, anyway, and you feel like walking for once.
The entire band of My Chemical Romance is your boss, and even if they weren't, you'd do anything for the band. They had meant so much to you for so long.
Frank smiles, handing you a five dollar bill. "Thank you, Miss (y/l/n). Get yourself something too. You're as thin as a rail, kiddo."
You give him a light bow and shut the door quietly behind you as you leave. You are watching your feet and counting your steps when you run into something solid.
"Gah!" you yelp as you fall back into the floor, feeling the floor connect with your backside. Great. Now it feels bruised.
"What the fuck- oh hey, Lizzie!"
You mentally sigh. Gerard Way, the absolutely gorgeous, a-dork-able singer for the band, has this somewhat annoying habit of calling you Lizzie. Its probably your fault; you never corrected him when he first started and now he thinks its your name.
"Hello, Mr. Way." You force a smile, smarting. You want to stand, but your legs keep failing you, getting tangled on themselves.
You'd had a crush on the man ever since you had first met him, but your ass hurts like hell. Niceties can wait a few more moments.
He scrambles to help you up, his hands soft where they weren't calloused. He grabs your arms instead of your hands. Its a hold you had taught the boys whenever they fell down drunk and you helped them stand.
"Thank you, Mr. Way."
"C'mon, Lizzie. You've been working with us for what- six months? Call me Gerard," he says, rocking on his feet, unbalanced.
Ugh. He's drunk. You can smell the liquor on his breath now. You should have first noticed the fact he's intoxicated: his reaction time was even slower than usual.
"So where're you headed?"
"The store. I'm getting Mr. Iero a snack."
"Can you get something for me too?" Gerard is already pulling out his wallet. "I need a new pack of smokes. Some Camels will do."
"Yeah, no problem. Anything else?"
"A Bud, maybe?"
"Mr. Way, you promised no more drinking right before rehearsal, remember?" you say slowly, willing him to not argue. He was already drunk, but you didn't want him even more so.
He mumbles, "Oh, yeah." Then he straightens a bit, saying, "Alright get me a Red Bull, then." He hands you a ten and shuffled back down the hall towards the practice room.
"Snickers, a pack of smokes, and a Red Bull. Got it," you mutter, folding the money and sticking it in your pocket.
While you walk, you think about Gerard. His problem with drinking is spinning out of control. You even think you heard Mikey Way- Gerard's brother- telling Frank he had found Gerard popping pills. Even the thought of Gerard abusing his medications makes you sick to your stomach. When had things gotten so bad?
You speed-walk through the store, grabbing the boys' requests and a small Twix for yourself. The woman at the counter smiles at you as she scans the items.
"You're always dashing in and out of here, aren't you, darlin'?" she says, smacking her gum. The sound makes you grimace.
"Yeah. My bosses always want snacks and their smokes." you shrug, paying.
"That reminds me: where do you work? You're dressed pretty casually to be a businesswoman." Who is this woman, Sherlock? You'd probably get less questions from him.
"I'm just an assistant for the music studio down the street," you say, trying to imply you don't want to discuss it further. Luckily, she seems to get the hint.
"Have a nice day, then." She forces a smile. "Come back soon."
"Thanks," you say, already halfway out the door. You like to have everything back as quickly as possible. Once, you had gotten delayed by a stupid tourist asking directions. He had taken so long that Frank had come looking for you, worried.
You scurry across the nearly empty street and almost get run over by an old black Impala going too fast. The driver shouts something that gets lost in the wind.
Once safely inside the building, you can relax again. At least slightly, that is. The boys are in the practice room, jamming, so you slip inside and set the back down beside you.
"Hey, you got the stuff?" Mikey Way says, coming over and sitting beside you, leaning in conspiratorially.
"Hell yeah, I got the stuff," you joke, smiling at him. Mikey is the only one you would consider saying anything like that to. Your mutual love of unicorns might have something to do with how friendly the two of you are.
"Alright, I'll go take Gerard's cigs and heart attack in a can to him, then, okay?" he chuckles, reaching out for the bag.
You feel a slight pang at not taking them yourself, but you give yourself a mental shake. He wouldn't notice you anyway, as he's too busy trying to find the right pitch for a new song.
You nod at Mikey and he takes them over to his brother. "You can just chill or something. I don't think we really need anything else right now, (y/n). Thanks for getting the stuff," he laughs over his shoulder, almost running into Ray Toro, who shoves Mikey away.
"Alright, Mikey." You nod and stick headphones on your head. You play the Lord of the Rings soundtrack, closing your eyes as you lean back. The music drifts your mind further and further away from your concerns about Gerard. You're so tired…
Someone's shaking your shoulder insistently. "Hey, Lizzie, wake up."
You let out a startled noise and fall, headphones falling off.
"Why must you fall constantly around me? Even Frankie says you aren't this much of a klutz around him."
Gerard.
"I-I'm usually n-not this klutzy," you stutter, wondering how the hell you keep managing to end up on the floor.
Gerard laughs. "Hey, chill. I was just teasing." He reaches his hand out and pulls you upright again.
"Thank you, Mr. Way."
"Seriously. Its Gerard, please." He playfully frowns.
"Gerard," you say quietly, "I-"
"Hey, did you get me that Red Bull?" Gerard interrupts, hands fumbling with his sleeves. You notice then he's visibly shaking, and his eyes are darting around nervously.
"Yeah, I did. I gave it to Mikey to give to you," you say, frowning. "G-Gerard," you feel so weird saying his first name after so long of using his last name. "Forgive me, but you seem like you already drank the entire can."
He only laughs. "I don't remember." He sees someone and waves, a big goofy grin on his face. The sight of him smiling eases your mind, even for a moment. He stops moving and stares at you for a moment, his light brown eyes finally focusing on yours. He's also stopped shaking, but his smile never leaves. "You know, I've never really said so, but you're really-"
"Yo, Gerrie!" shouts Ray from across the room. "We're going through 'The Ghost of You' again."
Moment over. Gerard pauses, unsmiling, hands twitching at his sides. "I guess… I better go, then." He faces away, eyes darkening.
"Yeah." You nod even though his back is turned, "Have fun."
He looks at you and gives you a grin. "Sure." He waves and walks over to join his brother and band-mates.
You sit back down. Something brushes your hand; a piece of folded paper is left where you had been sitting. You hadn't noticed it before, so when did it show up? Did Gerard accidentally drop it or put it there?
Glancing over at the boys, you see they're all busy, so you unfold the paper. What's the worst thing it can say? How much Gerard secretly hates you? Come on.
"Mikey, (y/n)'s been working with us for six months. She still hasn't even corrected me when I call her by the wrong name. I can't tell if she doesn't care or if she's too shy. Either way, its about time for her to say something, don't you agree? (You owe me ten bucks now. I told you she wouldn't say anything.)"
He knows your name, that asshole. And he made a bet on it?
"I can't stop thinking about (y/n). She's just a tech, I know, but… I don't know, man. There's something about her. She probably thinks I'm just a drunk who doesn't give a rat's ass about anyone, I don't know."
Gerard… likes you? The letter doesn't stop there, but your hands are shaking so bad you don't know if you can keep reading. You probably should stop. This is Gerard's personal business, and you're reading it as if its nothing. No, not nothing. You have tears welling up in your eyes, and your breath hitches as you try to keep from crying. Damn emotions.
The band is still too busy playing to even look over, so you forget morals and read the last paragraph:
"Fuck it. I'm in love with her. Its not lust, either. I mean sure, I'd love something like that, but at the same time, I want to take her to the movies and sing in the car with her and watch her looking at the fish at the aquarium and everything else like that. She deserves so much, Mikey. How the hell do I tell her something like that? How could I explain to a goddess of light that a common shadow wants to give her the world? Its impossible."
You quickly fold it back up and place it where it was. Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard you can barely breathe.
The band stops playing for a moment, and Gerard catches your eye. He smiles faintly before launching into "The Jetset Life is Gonna Kill You."
If Gerard was questioning how to tell you, you have a better question: how do you tell him you know?