Someone That Hates To See Me Go *Frerard One Shot*

Someone That Hates To See Me Go *Frerard*

The sun is all too bright when I wake up. Of course, the afternoon is harder to open my eyes to than the morning light. Perhaps I should've gone to sleep earlier last night instead of crashing for a midday nap. Especially before the first show of tour. I'm glad Stacy isn't knocking down my door. As the tour manager, she's in charge of making sure I'm in wardrobe on time. Which is a little unreasonable, seeing as I'm generally a responsible person.

On the couch in my hotel room, a lonely one, seeing as Lindsey and Bee aren't visiting until after the show, I shuffle around to find my phone. As soon as I see the black, glittery case sticking up from the tan cushion, I click the button to light the screen.

Well shit. I guess Stacy should be at my door, considering I have to be in wardrobe in twenty minutes.

Jumping like a mad super hero, something Bee would be giggling at, throwing on a different shirt, as my favorite Iron Maiden tee probably isn't quite as adequate as the simple white one I decide on, I toss my black jacket over my shoulder and head out the door.

Just before I reach the main lobby, I put on my shades. I declined security for this leg of the tour, only because what's chance of being mobbed right here? Someone might recognize me here and there, but chances are slim I'll be pummeled. I mean, I look pretty normal, I'm not the firetruck red-haired wild soul I was last time I was on tour. Last time, for Danger Days.

I promised myself I wouldn't do this. It's over. That was it. Fatalism, remember that, Gerard?

Shaking my mind off, I nod at the front desk man before walking out the front door.

The L.A. heat is something strong, especially this time of year. Sometimes I really do miss Jersey. I'll be there soon, though. Alone. Obviously, and the fact that Lola allegedly isn't getting there on the bus.

I chuckle softly to myself at that thought. Lola, my creation. The retro-inspired persona, that only adds to the entire fuzz aesthetic to the album. And the enigma that lies within them. That's my favorite part of it. Who is Lola? Exactly.

Starting up my Volvo, I remember the directions to the venue.

When I pull up to the convention center, no one is there yet. What a strange feeling. Almost lonely. It's two hours before the show. Usually even a day or two, there's kids lining the sidewalks before the concert. But it's different now, no complex pondering necessary. This is going to be different. I don't know why I still have to remind myself every day. It's been almost two whole years.

I step out the door and walk into a nearly empty convention center lobby. There's a few kids meandering through the halls. Smiles light up all of our faces, theirs and mine, as they approach. Small talk occurs before I sign their phone cases and merchandise. I smile as they recount how much they enjoyed Hesitant Alien. None of the seven total kids brought about My Chemical Romance. It is a constant anxiety of mine that someone will one of these times. I'm not scared of assessing my past or anything, I just don't want that reputation for the rest of my life.

I didn't even anticipate releasing any solo material for quite a few years. There wasn't a sense of urgency to do much of anything after the band. But the lyrics and melodies just began to plague me one day.

I remember that particular afternoon. It was March of this year. Exactly a year after. Bee was on my lap, napping. I began to tap my fingers on the arm of the sofa.

You made a promise then you hide.

And you said we'd all be dead by twenty-five.

Music has always been a second nature to me. Above drawing. Above any other art form. Sometimes I think it's above breathing. It's natural. So what am I doing if music isn't a part of it?