ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 13: Overworked Prodigy Child

"I can deal with all that! Besides, I'm your mother, I should be allowed to see you backstage. I'm coming, and that's final. So put on a nice face for me."

You made a very not nice face. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

As soon as you ended the call, you let out a sigh of irritation, and rubbed your temple. "Is something wrong?" you heard Gerard question, as his footsteps came to a stop next to you.

"Err," you stuttered as you turned to him, to find him pretty darn close, his arm pressed against yours, as he leaned against the side of the bus.

You would've thought you'd gotten used to Gerard's thing with close proximity, but apparently not. Even though he acted like this with all of his bandmates, his constant nearness and tender touches still made you flustered, even though you were more than certain it was just platonic.

Ever since you'd witnessed the infamous kiss between him and Frank on stage at San Bernardino, you'd started to realise how free with his affections he was towards those he cared for. It was sweet, but to anyone else, it would seem as if he was constantly flirting with everybody, when really he just loved to be close to others; it also made it difficult to discern if he ever had romantic intentions.

"You seem kinda uncomfortable," he observed, his words muffled slightly from the cigarette in between his lips.

"I am," you muttered, tapping angrily at your phone, as if it would do anything to calm your ire. "My mother is going to come to the concert tomorrow."

"You don't want her to?" Gerard was a little surprised, "But you haven't seen your family in weeks. None of us have."

"There's a reason for that," you muttered, pocketing your cell, and folding your arms moodily.

"Mummy issues?" he joked, removing his cigarette from his mouth to exhale.

You rolled your head towards him slowly, to stare into his soul — he blinked — and you looked away again, to glare at the bus opposite you, belonging to The Bled. "More like burned out gifted kid," you responded icily.

His hand settled on your shoulder, making you glance at it warily; it was still odd seeing it without a wedding ring, like he'd have on so often in the future. "If you feel upset about anything she's done, you should talk to her about it," he advised.

"I've tried that," you replied dully, "I'll get a lecture about how ungrateful I am, and that she's made me into what I am today. About how I should be thankful, and thank her." You paused, realising with embarrassment that you were trauma-dumping, then shook your head, and turned away, preparing to go back inside, "I've kept you for too long, sorry. I should get back in and—"

"Wait!" Gerard cut you off, and reached out to touch your back delicately, before he retracted himself — you peered behind you cautiously, to find him putting his sunglasses on his head, in order to make proper eye contact. "Can I hug you?" he asked, unexpectedly sincere.

"Uh..." you blanked, unable to compute for a moment.

He took your silence as a rejection, and backed away, shaking his head, "It's fine if you don't want—"

"No, no!" you gabbled, flinging your hands open awkwardly, and plastering on a nervous grin, "Uh, bring it in!"

Gerard chuckled, moved forwards, and with a surprising amount of gentleness, gathered you in his grasp, limbs wrapping around your waist warmly, whilst his chin rested on your shoulder, so his hair was tickling your cheek. You short-circuited, before robotically placing your hands upon his back, limbs stiff with confusion and humiliation.