ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 30: Resolve And Tenacity

You swallowed, but obliged, sitting down opposite here; she gave Mikey and Gerard a brief look, and both of them got the hint, and left, shutting the door behind them gently. Gerard gave you a small smile of reassurance before he disappeared, along with a little wink — well, at least he tried to wink; it was sweet of him, but it didn't really settle you. This was his mother, after all, and you were anxious to make a good impression.

"I'll be honest with you," Donna began, "my son is very sensitive."

Your hands clenched around the towel you were still holding from your wash.

"I'm sure you know that he was in a relationship with somebody else only a little bit before he went on this tour," she continued, "but he had to end it, unfortunately. I take it he's told you why?"

You nodded in confirmation. "He told me that they didn't have an emotional connection anymore," you admitted.

"Yes," Donna replied, "and he was quite upset about it for a while. But when Project Revolution started, I was surprised because he seemed quite happy, which was a bit strange considering he'd been so depressed. And he told me about this musician he was touring with, and how he thought they were a wonderful friend."

A tiny ache pulled at your heart — you two really had hit it off back then, more than you'd realised.

"I know when my son wants to be with somebody, but he usually doesn't," she half-chuckled, "so I was waiting for a bit to see when he'd realise. And now he has, I think it was quite good timing, because I've wanted to meet you."

You couldn't help but smile slightly; "He's an amazing person," you blurted out without much thought.

"I know he is," Donna responded, "so I want you to promise me something."

You glanced up at her worriedly, holding back the urge to squirm in your seat like a fish out of water.

"Please promise me you'll take care of my boy," she finally spoke, after a pause. "I want him to be comfortable."

Despite feeling timid, you reached out to touch her hand shakily. "I will take care of him," you assured. "I will try my hardest to make sure he's happy. Not all the time, but — most of the time."

That works, right?

Donna seemed placated by that, and laced her fingers with yours, letting out a sigh of relief. "He needs someone," she remarked. "You seem like a good person, so... I hope that you two will be happy together."

"I do too," you mumbled.

"Now, enough about the serious things," Donna shook her head, "tell me about you. I'm anxious to know all the details. Gee's been very careful with what he's told me."

You grinned wearily — "There might be a reason for that."

-

The dial tone of your phone made you tense up, but you held yourself together, as you stood against the wall of your hotel room, cell pressed to your ear. You kept your eyes shut, awaiting the 'click' of affirmation, readying yourself for the barrage that was to come.

"... little star?" came your mother's weak voice, at the end of the line, at last.

"Mum," you stated tonelessly.

There was a little silence, as you both sort of stood there, in an awkward moment.

Then you decided to pick up the slack. "I talked to Gerard's mum today," you told her.

"Really? That's..."

"She asked me about you," you continued, "and I realised that I didn't know what to tell her."

"Well," she giggled slightly, though it was forced and sad, in a way, "I am a socialite. You could've started with that, sweetie."

"I didn't, though," you replied.

Another pause. "No, you didn't," she at last echoed. "It's a bit silly, now that I think about it, to tell people that your mother is a socialite. I'd like to imagine that it would be less embarrassing to say that I were a businesswoman, or a—"

"Mum," you cut her off, "I want to know why."

"Why — why what?"

"Why did you want me to be you?" you asked, the question finally appearing. "Having that talk with Gerard's mum made me realise that they're two different people. They have similarities, but they're not carbon copies. But you — you wanted me to you. You wanted me to go into high society, go marry some rich person, and spend my days making a fortune with my many skills that you gave me.

"You never asked me what I wanted. Why is that?"

Your mother breathed in deeply, "I'm not good at explaining myself."

"Well you're going to have to try," you retorted shortly.

Another sigh. Then, she spoke, "I detest, I loathe to admit it but — part of what you said was right. Grandma was never too... proud of me. No matter what I did, it didn't seem to be enough, and I suppose I wanted to make sure that... you would be enough. So that the world wouldn't crush you, like it crushed me."

"But it was also for you, wasn't it?"

"It was — it was also for me. But you were so full of potential, little star," now, she was beginning to plead, "you were such a smart child, so full of life and — you had everything in front of you. I didn't want you to throw it away."

"You didn't want me to throw it away like you did?"

"I... I didn't throw it all away. Did I? I don't think I did, I tried, but I — never quite measured up..."

You shifted, so you could hold the phone better. "I think you need to have a talk with Grandma," you said honestly. "I think that there are things that need to be discussed between you two."

"Little star, she doesn't want to talk to me," your mother gained some of her usual edge back, a small scoff coming to her voice. "She hates every bone in my body. She used to put me on the scales every morning, and tell me to lose weight — not that she was wrong, really, I was a little pig."

God, there was so much wrong within the entirety of her speech there.

"Then I'll call her up and convince her," you decided. "Then you two can have a chat."

"But I don't understand what for..."

"You two clearly have some issues that you need to resolve, because it's making me miserable."

"Don't be silly! How can that affect you?"

And she was back. No, you were not having it this time.

"Fuck's sake, Mum, did it ever occur to you that you're a bad parent because of abuse?!" you snapped.

"I—I'm not a bad... parent... am I? No, no, now you're just deluded. We had some lovely times! I was lovely to you!—"

"No, your version of lovely was making sure that I got first place in everything, making sure I was perfect from head to toe," you interrupted, "and all that did was make me miserable."

"What did I... do wrong?" her deliriously upset intonation returned.

"The first step in fixing what's between us is realising that you were wrong," you spoke firmly. "I can't consider forgiving you until you recognise your faults. You don't think anything is your fault Mum, and sure maybe Grandma's influenced your behaviour, but that's no excuse to project onto me and make me feel like shit."

"But how do I — do that?"

"Have a conversation with Grandma, and then yourself," you answered. You stopped, momentarily, listening to her ragged, confused breathing, before you stated, "Call me when you're ready to say sorry."

With that, you hung up, and then slid down the wall, and let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. You hadn't wanted to do that, but you were relieved that you had, now; this was the first step towards getting her to understand, and then subsequently getting out of her chokehold.

It wasn't easy, but nothing really was.