Current mood:	okay
Current music:	Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

Christmas story #2
Title: Will Tomorrow Be The Same?
Author: Emelie
Pairing: Jeph Howard/Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jeph is a big fan of Gerard’s band, but he’s not like all the other fans.
Note: This is a Christmas gift to forever_drownin. And by the way, none of this is true and I don’t own the characters. If I did I would give Gerard to her instead ;) Thanks to Good Charlotte for the “inspiration” ;) and thanks to youthstate for the beta! <3



“Wake up, Jeph!” Branden’s irritating voice rings in my ears. I move reluctantly on the hard ground, not wanting to wake up when I just fell asleep.

“Come on, they’re here!” He tries to pull down the zipper of my sleeping bag.

“What? Who?”

“My Chemical Romance, stupid!”

“Now? It’s like in the middle of the night!”

“Don’t blame me. They had to do a sound check or something.”

I crawl out of my sleeping bag. It’s dark in the little hole we are in. It almost looks like a hole, behind me is a big house, in front of me is a concrete wall and on my right is stairs up to the front side of the big house. To my left a small concrete path is following the house. Around me, at the part of the path that is closest to the stairs the ground is littered with bags, sleeping bags and ground sheets, plastic bags and all the other stuff a gang of teenagers leave when they decide to sleep outdoors for one night.

“Aren’t you bringing anything?” Branden asks, himself holding a CD and a camera. I shake my head.

“Get over yourself,” he smiles cheekily at me. “Let’s go.”

We hurry to the backside of the house. There’s a black van parked and a group of girls standing a few feet away. We walk to the group of girls.

“They’re still in the car,” one of the girls tells Branden. I stop reluctantly a bit away from the girls, watching as the doors of the van open. The group of girls are immediately at the doors of the car, like a flock of starving vultures over a dead zebra. It’s scary to watch the scenario of the band getting out and as soon as their feet touch the ground, there’s a few girls there asking for autographs and pictures. And what makes it even scarier is that I know I could be one of them. One of my best friends is. Even though we’re not girls, but that doesn’t matter.

I take a few steps back, trying to melt into the shadows.

I see his head in the crowd at once, his long, back hair and pale skin. If it wasn’t of the fact that he is a pretty short man, I would say he was sticking up above all the others.

He’s professional, he does his work well. Signing and posing for photos. But I can tell that he’s not mentally there. His eyes drift away to the dark outside the circle of light that links the van and the door in the house together.

I want to move, sneak away deeper into the shadows. But I don’t dare.

After a while his eyes finds me and for a few seconds he just look me in the eye. Before he leaves the fans and goes inside.

It all comes back to me at the moment. The distance between us does not prevent his eyes from splitting open my wounds. I’m just a simple fan, I shouldn’t know what it is like to spend hours talking to him in a bar. I shouldn’t know how it feels like to kiss him, nor how it feels like to have his cock up my ass. I shouldn’t know how his voice sounds on the phone. I should just know the silence that followed when he stopped calling.

But I do know all that.

The others are chatting happily, exchanging experiences from the short meeting. I should be one of them, but I’m not. Just because of one night and a few phone calls. I don’t want to be here, the only reason I am is because of Branden. He wanted to and I couldn’t let him go alone.

I turn around and walk back to my sleeping bag. From my place beside the wall I can hear the music from inside and I can’t help but sing along to the well known tune.

A few minutes later Branden comes back. He slides into his sleeping bag beside me.

“He saw me,” I mutter.

“Please, Jeph, you don’t think he recognize you, do you?”

“He did.” It’s a statement, no use to say anything else. And Branden is smart enough to keep quiet.

“I’m cold,” one of the girls says.

“Did you see Frank’s jacket?” someone else says. “I’m gonna buy one like that next week.”

“What time is it?”

“12.30.”

“Take my blanket, I don’t need it now.”

“How long do you think they will be in there?”

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket and four quiet beeps can be heard.

“Can you come to the door?
/Gerard”

I get out of my sleeping bag. “I have to piss,” and walk towards the door.

He is standing under the lamp beside the door, smoking a cigarette. His eyes are aimed at the ground and his hair has fallen into his face, threatening to make contact with his lit cigarette. As he hears my steps getting closer he looks up, smiling.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” I answer coldly.

“Why did you hide before?”

“I’m not an autograph hunter.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I went to see the concert and my friend absolutely wanted to be in first row.”

“Sorry I stopped calling.”

I shrug, I don’t care. I don’t want to care. I’m a fan, of course I care!

“You’re cold,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” I nod, “but it’ll be worse, I’m gonna sleep outside tonight,” I smile slightly.

He takes off his scarf and hangs it around my neck. It’s black and grey and smells of smoke.

“Hope that keeps you a bit warmer.”

“Thanks.”

“I have to go back now,” he says, putting out his cigarette. “See you tomorrow.”

I go back to my sleeping bag. It’s still cold, but not as cold as before. I pull the scarf up to my ears where it meets my black beanie. The only thing that sticks out is my nose and eyes.

*

I’m shaking with the cold when I wake up the next morning and my body is aching after a night on the concrete floor that felt like an eternity of tossing and turning. Which it was too.

The world is lightening by a dim greyish light and rain is pouring down. Right now I’m really thankful to whoever built this house, whoever made the roof stick out a bit so the rain don’t reach us.

The rest of the day passes by relatively fast as soon as I get my body heat to work again.

More and more people come by and stand in line. Pretty soon we’re basically locked up in the hole below the stairs. The scarf still smells like cigarettes and Branden spends half the day glaring at me.

Sometimes I think he’s having the time of his life right now and I think I start to enjoy it too.

*

Finally the moment we all have been waiting for is here, the moment of joy when we at last can enter the small venue. Branden takes my hand so we won’t lose each other in the sea of people. Resolutely he gets us to the first row. Right in front of Ray. But right now there’s just a stage there, set up for a band to play.

This is the worst kind of waiting, waiting for the band to enter the stage, getting punched into the riot barrier over and over again, for no reason at all. Until the band finally comes out and the pressure gets even worse. And after hours of standing outside in the cold, it’s now extremely hot.

But I don’t mind, the music that fills my ears numbs my body from feeling the pain. At this moment of time it’s worth it. All the waiting and the mashed ribs I know I will have tomorrow. Just to sign along at the top of my lungs and being able to see without anything blocking my vision.

Nothing blocks Gerard’s vision from seeing me either. And I know he sees me as he bounces to the edge of the stage and reach out his hand towards me. Immediately a flock of hands are there, trying to grab him. For a moment he squeezes my hand, and he’s gone.

“If you were here
I never have a fear
So go on live your life
But I miss you more than I did yesterday
You’re beautiful!”

His words echo in my head and his eyes burn a hole through my pupils.

*

The cold grabs a hold of me as soon as I get out. Branden is bouncing happily beside me, humming to himself.

A black mass of girls stands expectant outside the back door, where the van was parked yesterday. It still is now for that matter, but a bit closer to the door this time.

“You don’t have to meet them again, do you?” I ask Branden hopefully.

“No, it's no use with this many people.”

“Good I can't wait to get home and take a long, hot shower.”

“And I bet there's a special Gerard involved in that shower too,” he smirks.

“Oh, you're so dirty!” I punch his shoulder.

*

The bus ride home feels like an eternity. I almost fall asleep with my head at Branden's shoulder. Branden is asleep, resting his head against the window.

When we're almost in the suburb where we live, my cell phone once again beeps, but this time louder. Branden jumps at the sound as he wakes up.

“Nordic Light, room 457. Please be there?
/Gerard”

“Who was it?” Branden yawns. I show him the message.

“You're going?”

“I don't know...”

“Of course you're going! I know you want to.” He searches his backpack until he finds the timetable for the busses.

“If you get off at the next stop there’s one bus going back in…fifteen minutes.” He says pushing the stop button.

“You're not giving me any choice, are you?”

“No. And you can pick up your bag at my place tomorrow.” The bus stops and I go off insecurely. I don't know if I want to do this or not. In one way it's good that Branden made the decision for me, because I think that if I had to do it myself I never would have made any decision at all. Not before it was too late.

The ride back to town feels even longer than the interrupted ride home. I'm not even tired anymore, I just sit and stare out through the window and take my gloves off and put them on, time after time. Picking at the fabric so it almost leaves a hole.

Nordic Light, it's one of the most expensive hotels in town and it's well known for being residence for famous people that pays this part of the country a visit. I've been standing outside there numerous of times waiting for bands, but I've never been inside.

The receptionist looks strange at me, but I try to look confident as I walk pass her. Looking like I use to be in places like this every other day. Even the elevator is glamorous. I look at myself in the golden framed mirror in the elevator. My hair is dirty and I smell of sweat. My stomach hurts like someone have punched it hard and I have dark rings under my eyes.

I should be home and take a shower and get ready for bed now, not on my way upwards in glamorous hotel to meet someone that I absolutely not want to look greasy in front of.

It takes me a while to find the right door, and when I finally find it I can't bring myself to knock. Not yet. I stare at the door handle, willing it to open itself.

But it doesn't move.

I raise my hand slowly, letting it stay in the air for a few seconds before I knock, hard hand fast. The sudden sound makes me jump back in surprise.

A split second later Gerard opens the door.

“I didn't think you would come,” he smiles. He looks beautiful, his hair is new washed, still a bit damp, he wears no makeup and he's dressed in black Dickies and a plain grey t-shirt. It makes me feel even dirtier.

“Me neither,” I smile back slightly.

“I'm glad you did.” He steps aside so I can come in. The room is bigger than an ordinary hotel room, with a big bed, a table, two armchairs and a small table that is covered with books and paper and a laptop. On the floor is a big bag lying open with some cloths hanging out. I take off my shoes and my outdoor cloths, before I follow him into the room. My dear shoes, my Converses with all my favourite bands scribbled at them. Even his band is somewhere in the mess of letters on the fan boy Chucks.

He sits cross-legged at the bed, watching me as I sit down opposite him.

“Why did you want me to come?” I ask resigned.

“I just wanted to talk,” he shrugs.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm the best company right now,” I smile slightly, “I've just had four hours of sleep tonight and almost no food during the whole day.”

“I don't mind,” he moves to the side of the bed where I'm sitting. “You know Jeph, I kinda missed you,” he puts his head at my shoulder. “I just suck at keep in touch with people.”

I smile to myself, I don't know why he does this, maybe he is using me because I'm a fan and he knows he can do anything with me, but maybe he means it too. I don't know right now, but I will do tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

“I can get you something to eat, if you want to?” he asks quietly.

“No, thanks,” I shake my head. “But a glass of water would be great.”

“Sure,” he jumps out of the bed and goes to the bathroom. Two seconds later he's back with a glass of cold, fresh water. He sits down at the side of the bed, watching me as I drink it all. It feels like he's drinking me like I drink the water.

“Thank you,” I say when I'm done drinking. He takes the glass and puts it at the bedside table.

“The show was great,” I tell him, in lack of better things to say.

“Of course it was, I had you too look at in first row all the time.” At least he's good at making me feel good. He crawls back into the bed standing on all fours in front of me.

“May I kiss you?” I nod slowly and he crawls the few inches that's left until he's sitting in my lap, and our lips meet.

One thing is better this time compared with the first though, this time he seems sober and aware of what he's doing. Sometimes, sometimes I actually think he cares.

I whine quietly as his hand touches my stomach.

“I'm sorry,” he breaks the kiss looking worried at me. “What did I do?”

I lift my shirt, showing him my stomach that is starting to turn blue, purple and yellow. “I've been in the front row at one of your concerts,” I remind him with a smirk. “So I'm not up for anything more then cuddling tonight. If you wanted anything kinky you should have taken another groupie.”

“I didn't say I wanted you for the sex, did I?” he leans in again, kissing my cheek and carefully making sure that he doesn't touch my stomach. “We can just sleep, if you want to?” he kisses my neck. I nod, sleeping sounds like the best idea ever right now. And sometimes, sometimes I actually believe that he cares.

He pulls me down in the bed, undressing me to my boxers with careful, warm hands. When he finished his work I undress him, trying to be as careful as he was. We lie down beside each other, so close that out bodies brush together. His hand traces over my sore stomach.

“I remember a few years back,” he says, “I was just like you. At least my stomach looked the same way as yours of the same reasons.”

“Did you have anyone to take care of your bruises like I have?”

“No,” he shakes his head so his hair falls down in his face, I lift my right arm and push it back behind his ear. “I just got to bed myself.”

He pulls me into a hug and kisses me slowly. He smells of soap and shampoo and just a little bit of smoke.

“Good night, Jeph.”

“Goodnight, Gerard.”

I curl up to him and his arms locks around me. At this moment of time I can swear he cares.

*

The gentle autumn sun wakes me up by poking my cheeks. Gerard is still asleep beside me, he's lying on his back with one arm thrown out over the bed. The sheets have slid down so almost his whole smooth and pale chest is showing.

Suddenly I realise that I haven't told my parents where I am. They must be worried sick.

I pull up the covers over Gerard and kiss his cheek lightly. He looks so peaceful sleeping.

I get up and walk to the door where I grab the scarf he gave me yesterday. Carefully I lay it at his chest.

Sometimes, sometimes maybe he does care. But I don't know if I do.

Quietly I sneak into the bathroom and turn on the water.






Hmmmm... Comment?
Am thinkgin about making a sequel... Good? Bad?