(A/n)
Requested by KatFire24 and frankiewayx
I finally overcame the lack of creativity so here it is
sorry if it's shitty
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"It's fine here," I tell Gerard as seeing we're already near enough to the building, "it'll be difficult to park there. Also, you don't need to pick me up later. I know the guys are coming over and I need to do some other things, anyways, so it won't be a problem." I smile at him as the car finally comes to a stop.
Gerard turns to me with a smile, his grip around the steering wheel loosening, "are you sure? I can still do it, tho, if you want."
"No, it's fine," I reassure him - sometimes I feel like he'd do anything for me if he could or if I let him. "Anyways, do I look fine? Is my hair okay? The lipstick?" Holding my phone up, I observe myself through the reflex, taking a last check on myself.
"No," he answers, "something's missing." Before I'm able to ask what's it, Gerard's fingers grab my jaw, making me turn to him, and he places his lips over mine. A wordless way of reassuring me and certainly one of the most effective. He pulls away with a small smile, rubbing the corner of my bottom lip with his thumb, "now you are."
A blush takes over my cheeks as I smile, gazing at him adoringly. "'Love you," I say while leaving the car, hearing his faint love you too after I close the door.
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"And do you have any goal? Would you like to work on something apart from Umbrella?" The interviewer asks with a wide smile and a good mood. Unlike most of the times, the interviewer is someone who actually understands the subject he's talking about and his eyes flash more admiration than ambition. Actually, the whole mood is more casual - the live interview happening in the headquarters of the news platform, with a small public who was notified about it a couple of days ago, but most of it certainly is watching through the internet.
"Practically pleading for a role in a BBC series or in a Marvel or DC movie. It'd be nice being the Doctor or some other superhero," I say sheepishly, earning some appreciative words from the people gathered around us with their phones in hands. "But I couldn't wish anything better than working in Umbrella, that's for sure," I grin proudly. "It's been my passion since it was firstly published."
"I understand," he raises his eyebrows briefly, nodding. "And," he takes a glance at the paper cards he's got in hand, "what are you doing now, until you start filming Umbrella's next season?"
"Though I've already been indicated for a few series and movies, but I'm going to spare some time so I can tag along with MCR for at least a part of the tour," there's certain smugness in my voice, but I can't help it, it's not everyone who has a chance like this.
"Oh, really?" The interviewer says; at the same time some muttering starts between the public. "You're doing it?"
"Hah," I breathe out, furrowing my eyebrows at him in certain disbelief, "I've been waiting for this for six years, of course I wouldn't lose the chance. The return concert was already amazing, I can't wait to see them on tour. Not to mention I never got to see them live before the break up, so... It'll certainly be a good experience." The mention of it makes anxiety start bubbling in my stomach once again, pretty much like every time I think about it. The thought makes me so happy.
"Ah, are you comfortable to talk about your relationship?" He asks carefully, still not seeming completely secure after I give a small nod - though he seems sweet until now, I'm mentally wishing he doesn't start with these repetitive or too intrusive questions. "Hows it dealing with all the repercussion?"
"Oh, well," I throw my head back, scratching my neck in thought. "It's annoying sometimes, but negative comments are common, aren't them?" I throw a hand in the air, shrugging, "we can't please everyone. And, about the ones who just want to annoy, I hope they grow empathy at some point."
With a smile, I turn to one of the cameras, internally wishing the shoes fit and people do stop it. "C'mon, I don't understand what's all the fuss about while people's always spreading about acceptance, but can't accept this. How much of hypocrites are y'all?" I chuckle, though really meaning it - my words receive another wave of appreciative comments from the people.
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"Oh my God, do you fucking live here now? It looks like you own the place!" Frank says from the couch in a playfully indignant tone as seeing me closing the door behind me. Mikey cracks a chuckle, greeting me with a small nod.
Playing along, I roll my eyes dramatically, "yes, motherfucker, now I own everything, even the band and I'm kicking you out of it," I point a finger at Frank, narrowing my eyes - he gasps offended; all I do is to chuckle. I'm halfway up the stairs, about to question where's Gerard when he walks out of the kitchen. "Sup, king," I say, earning a reprehending look for him as he places a hand on his hip; he ends up giving up with a smile after I chuckle.
The guys are talking when I make my way back downstairs - having changed and left my bag upstairs - so I just greet Ray back with a wave when he sees me walking to the kitchen. Thankfully, the week hasn't been too busy for any one of us, so Gerard and I have been spending more time together.
It makes me smile a bit seeing they remembered of me since, even having four used cups of coffee inside the sink, there's still some coffee in the jar. A vapor comes from the drink as I pour it in my mug and bring it with me as I move to the counter. A couple of magazines rest over the marble surface, I them left there once walking in the room - one is mine and other Gerard's, since the publishing house always provides the editions when we give interviews like this.
There's a picture of Gerard and me on the cover, a very beautiful one. A few pages in the middle of the magazine are reserved to the other photos we took, along with the interview. Everyone shall be happy now, with all the so much wanted answers. At least there was someone who was nice enough to not simply throw repetitive rude questions at us.
"Hey, sugar," Gerard's voice is suddenly next to my ear while he wraps his arms around my waist - the silence coming from the other rooms lead me to believe the others left already. Exhaling, I lean back against him with a pleased hum, but it turns into a desperate one after he places a kiss on my neck, tickling me. He lets out the sweetest giggle ever and I can't help but to melt, pecking his cheek.
"Look," I say, placing my mug on the counter then taking the magazine in hand, "is it fine? I'm still thinking it looks a bit weird." Anyways, it's practically the exact same with every other picture, I guess. The more I look at it, the worse it gets.
"No, it's perfect," he says in that specific tone, signing I can't argue back because these are facts. It should be difficult to believe him - because he's the kind of person who is right even against googled info - but it's actually easy and feels like he's telling me the obvious. "You're perfect." He tells me and I blush, placing the magazine back down on the counter.
Smiling, I place a kiss on his lips and move away to finish drinking my coffee and put the mug in the sink. Gerard has his phone in hand when I turn around, probably taking a pic of the magazines to post it somewhere.
I gaze at him for a moment and decide to go to the back garden, sitting down on a bench. He's walking through the doorway not long later and, as soon as he sits down, I move to lay on the bench, in a way my head's on his lap - the concrete is warm against my back. He lets out a small hum at me, caressing my cheek with his knuckles.
Everything is so peaceful. I can't really define if everything is really that good or if it's due to me finally being able to rest after such a busy day. The day is warm, with a light breeze - sighing, I close my eyes, allowing myself to just enjoy it and Gerard's presence.
I'm able to sense him moving and, cracking an eye open, there's him holding his phone over me. "Gerard," I say in a playful warning tone, "you're not recording me to post it, are you? I'm tired of seeing random videos of me on your story whenever I get on Instagram." I breathe a chuckle, actually loving all the attention I receive, though I'm not really worthy of it.
"Art's made to be appreciated," he answers simply, cupping my face, rubbing his thumb over my cheek.
"And I guess I'll never appreciate you enough," I answer, smiling.
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