ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 6: Nightmarishly Wonderful

"There's an afterparty going on," she informed you, "since you were the last act of the night, everyone's got together and is swapping in and out of each other's buses. There's a massive party going on in Linkin Park's van. There are also a couple of people who want to meet you," she made a suggestive expression, as if she knew these 'people' were important.

"No!" you almost shouted, sitting up straight, before controlling yourself, "Not while I look like this," you gestured to your face. "Give me a second to clean up, okay? Then I'll — go and see."

"Fair enough," Chris shrugged, with a small grin, "but just so y'know, I think they might be making the journey to come here and speak to you personally," she winked, before leaving.

You slapped your forehead into your palm with a groan, "Please don't tell me it's Jimmy Urine," you whispered.

"Doubt it," Harvey replied, whilst digging through his satchel, "from what I saw before I got here, he was busy hanging out with some girls in his tour bus."

You scoffed with malice, however you softened as he pulled out a packet of wet wipes and tissues for you to use. With a quiet 'thank you', you pulled them out, and started to clean yourself up, wiping away the coloured foundation, to reveal your normal face again, marred with your straggled, stressed locks.

"The clown look was iconic, by the way," Harvey noted, as he closed his bag.

You half-laughed, shutting your eyes in order to get the rest of the green off, "Thanks. I told you it was a good idea."

"Don't get cocky," he warned.

When you were sure that all of the makeup was off, you stood up, took off your purple jacket, and smoothed out your shirt. "I don't look too dumb, do I?" you asked, with a small note of fear to the sentence.

"You look like the average sleep deprived rockstar," Harvey responded bluntly. "Now, go on; I want to stay in here and have a nap."

You snorted, before stepping outside, shutting the door behind you, into the night air — it was warm, but not humid, so there was a lack of stickiness to the air that was quite nice, to be honest. A fresh gust of wind swept through your hair, and you sighed at the feeling, almost calm, before a few whoops disrupted your moment.

Glancing to the side, you found, across the parking lot alongside a bus, that there were three people; but not just any people; the people in question were Mikey Way, Frank Iero and Ray Toro.

Hold on.

What the fuck?!

You felt your nervous system shut down, as you stared at them, mouth half open in disbelief — before you could move, Frank caught sight of you, and let out a loud victorious screech, like a predator finding its prey. Glued to the spot, you watched as the short man came barrelling towards you, like a tiny hurricane.

This could not be real. This could not be fucking real.

"Hi!" he burst out, as soon as he was within a good distance of you, "Hey, hi! Awesome show, dude!"

You felt your entire body judder at that statement. "Thank you," you spluttered, "I was — blown away by yours! You — all of you were so good."

"Thanks!" Frank beamed, holding out a hand for you, "I'm Frank Iero! Pleasure to be working with you!"

"No, no, no, the pleasure's all mine," you denied, gasping out the words like a fish out of water, as you shook his hand. "You guys are such a great band, honestly."

"Now you're just flattering us," Ray appeared behind Frank, with a grin; you returned it enthusiastically.

Peeking over his shoulder, you saw Mikey, who was obviously struggling to put himself forwards, loitering behind his bandmates.

You swallowed, knowing the anxious feeling all too well, and stepped forwards, extending a hand, initiating interaction for once; "Hi, you're Mikey Way, the bass player, right?" you questioned softly.

He seemed surprised, but slowly shook your outstretched limb, with a nod.

"You're incredibly talented," you stated, in complete seriousness.

He tried to hide his smile, but you saw it, for a moment, and that was enough for your heart to swell in affection. Frank and Ray exchanged a look, before Frank swung an arm around your shoulders, which shocked you slightly.

"Hey, do you wanna come and van hop with us?" he asked excitedly.

"I... thought everyone was partying," you remarked awkwardly.

"Nah," Ray dismissed, "we just go bother other people, see what the other bands are up to, see if we can steal any of their shit. Then we'll usually head back to the bus and play video games," here, he pointed to the vehicle over his shoulder, marked with the band's logo, "besides, we're lame."

"You're far from lame, I can tell you that," you denied. "But... video games don't sound half bad," you murmured shyly, even though you were inwardly shrieking at the prospect of gaming with MCR.

"Great!" Frank cheered, "Just hop into the bus! Gerard'll be coming back in any minute, so you can get started with him!"

Your blood ran cold. "Wh — wait—" you sputtered, as they began to leave.

"We'll see you there!" Ray called out, as he disappeared into Taking Back Sunday's van; Frank giving you a wink with finger guns, and Mikey gave you a timid wave, before they too vanished.

You stood there, with a huge dilemma on your hands. The prospect of meeting Gerard Way alone, with nobody there, was absolutely terrifying to you; but the van was right there, parked next to your own, and they'd said he'd be here at any minute!

"Fuck," you cursed, leaning against the door of the bus, and biting down on your finger in concentration.

Too much interaction with them, and you might permanently mess up the timeline. You weren't meant to be here, you were still well aware of that, and anything you did might have absolutely awful consequences for everyone later. You had to be careful, not insert yourself into things that might change the course of history, otherwise you might alter people's lives for the—

"Hi!"

Oh shit.

You'd heard that voice one too many times, from all those TV interviews you'd watched on YouTube as a teenager. Never, in your wildest dreams, you'd thought to hear it now, in person, and directed at you.

With a growing sense of astonishment, you turned your head, to see Gerard Arthur Way, walking across the lot, one hand raised in a wave, and a friendly expression; and he was walking towards you.

You swore that time slowed at that moment. You could see every step he took in those fantastic cowboy boots, the way every strand of his dishevelled hair moved, his sunglasses atop his head, the way his jean jacket rustled, the dimple that appeared when he smiled with his teeth.

Fucking hell. Fucking, fucking, fucking hell.

In a moment of awe-struck idiocy, you pointed to yourself, and mouthed at him weakly, 'me?'.

He laughed; it was a dorky, wonderful sound, that made you even more stupefied. Then, all of a sudden, he was there, but a metre away at best, eyes crinkled by his smile. "You're (Y/n), right?" he asked softly — his voice was fucking angelic.

"Last time I checked I was," you choked out a joke, to try and hide your inner screaming.

"I loved your show," he told you, with a small chuckle.

"Oh," you hiccuped, "thank you. You weren't too bad yourself — oh god, who am I kidding — you were fucking amazing," you made a shaky hand gesture, almost frantic, "you were all so, so good, it was inhumane."

Gerard lit up, like a Christmas tree, his hand rubbing the back of his neck like an embarrassed child, "You think?"

"I know," you argued, though you were shocked that this was the same guy who'd masturbated on stage. "Uh — your bandmate, Frank," you awkwardly continued, shrinking in on yourself, "he mentioned that you have, uh, video games in your bus..."

"He invited you to play?" Gerard somehow knew exactly what you were on about, "Sure, I'll take you inside then," he smiled, and tilted his head in a charming manner.

D'aww fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?