You'll Never Fight Alone (My Chemical Romance)

Hello! So this is a fanfic that I've been working on for a little awhile. I probably won't update very often, as I'm working through this slowly to make sure it all comes together well. Any comments are muchly appreciated c: This first chapter is just kind of a getting started type thing, so I hope it's okay. I also hope it's a good length. They probably won't all be this long, but hey, we may as well start with somehting big, eh? c: ~secondhandmerey

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I wake up with a start, shaking and sweaty. "Nightmare," I gasp, reaching for the glass of water that is ever present next to my bed. "Just a nightmare," I gasp again, sighing as I accidentally slosh water over myself. My whole body is shaking, and tears are still running down my face.

After about ten minutes or so, I'm finally calm, but I'm out of water, so after a quick glance at my alarm to check the time, 4am, I slide out of my bed and quietly head toward the bathroom, being careful not to wake Annie. God knows she'd start world war three if I woke her up.

Annie is my sister. She's a year younger than me, and very fake. Dyed blonde hair, blue contact lenses, and a cheerleader. The full package. She's only 15. On her first day of high school, she made it very clear that she didn't want anyone to know that she's related to me. That went well for her, until now, until we moved away. Everyone back in Coventry will knw that we are related now, but that's okay, none of them will see either of us again. I mean, we've just moved to New Jersey to live with my Aunt Cathy and we made sure that nobody would nkow, other than the principal of our old school of course.

Once I reach the bathroom, I take a quick shower, and run quietly back in the direction of my bedroom. And yes, I can run quietly. I may not dress like it, but I'm a dancer, and I know how to be light on my feet.

When I'm safely back in my room, I slip into my favorite red lace underwear, before pulling on black skinny jeans and a black, tight-fitting long sleeved top. I also put on some psychadelic fluffy socks, before shoving on my knee high combat boots. Looking quickly around my room, I spot my favorite leather jacket and slip it on. It's black and reasonably tight-fitting, just enough to look baggy but still show off the little amount of boobage that I have. That's not the reason I love it though. I love it because it's comfy, and it reminds me of dad.

My eyes fill with tears as I think of him, and I quickly shake my head, crossing over to my mirror. I take in my appearance slowly. Waist length deep red hair that's slightly wavy, and a sweeping side fringe. Green eyes that once used to sparkle, but are now dull and pale. I take in my legs and waist. I am thin, but not unhealthy. The skinniness is due to my ballet. My face looks even whiter than usual in the low light cast by my lamp. I sigh, my gaze crossing over my small nose, pink lips and prominent cheekbones.

After some time, I turn to the small desk to my right and grab my makeup, applying a small amoung of mascara and eyeshadow, which consists of blended browns and blacks.

Finally satisfied, I grab my bag and push open the window, lowering myself down onto the wet grass below. I waste a few minutes searching in my bag for a paperclip, which i proceed to trap in the corner of the window as I close it. This keeps the window open just enough for me to be able to get back in, but makes it appear closed. Sneaky, huh?

Running quickly across the front lawn, I hope the fence, clutching my bag to my side as the rain spatters down. I shiver, pulling my jacket tight against me.

When I reach the corner of our new street, I slow to a walk, and head towards the only place that looks open; Starbucks. Perfect.

The door slams behind me when I walk in, and the girl behind the counter looks up in surprise. "Oh hey," She greets me, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "What can I get you?" She asks, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand. "Um, a large caramel mocha," I reply, handing over some cash. She frowns at the money I've placed in her hand. "This is way too much," She says, looking up at me in confusion. "I just moved here from England," I explain apologetically, grimacing. "I haven't really got to grips with the currency."

She smiles sympathetically and hands me back the money after taking what she is owed. "Fair enough. Don't worry, you'll catch on quick," She says, handing me my drink. I thank her before turning around and scanning the empty shop. My eyes settle on a small circular booth, and I make my way to it, setting down my mocha before taking a seat. I shrug my bag off and open it, pulling out a small sketchpad, and an assortment of pencils. After a quick sip of my drink, I begin to draw.

I let my mind wander as my hand flits across the page, recreating a scene from my nightmare. I glance down and realize I've drawn Dad, lying in the hospital bed, eyes rolling backwards. I've even drawn the heart monitor in the background, flatlining.

I've recreated one of the worst moments of my life.

Tears prick my eyes once again as I look at it, remembering that day.

"Dad, you've got to wake up~" I cry, tugging gently on his hand as I sit next to his hospital bed. "C'mon Dad," I whine, not caring if I sound like a kid. "You always say that if you end up in a coma, I should do something that irritates you so that you will wake up and tell me to shut the fuck up," I mumble, searching through my bag. "So here we go." I pull out the copy of Twilight that I'd picked up from the library and begin to read, a small part of me hoping that this will work.

It doesn't.

The next thing I know, the heart monitor drops to one endless beep, and doctors are running in. Dazed, I'm pushed out of the room, and I crumple to the floor. Soon, realization sets in, and I begin beging on the door, screaming for someone to let me in.

They didn't.

He died.

I snap out of my thoughts as the door of the shop swings open. I watch as a boy about my age orders a coffee, glancing away as he turns and looks around. When I look back, I take in his appearance.

He's reasonably tall and skinny, with longish black hair. From what I can see, his face is quite pale, and he's got good fashion sense. Black skinny jeans, men's combat boots, and an old looking army jacket.

Tearing my gaze away from him, I take another sip of my mocha. "Hello," a smooth voice says, and I look up in surprise. "Oh, um, hi," I stutter, eyes wide. "Do you mind if I sit here? It's not often that you find someone your own age out at this time of the morning," He asks, smirking slightly. "Um, sure," I mumble, and he takes a seat across from me.

"I'm Gerard," He says, and I meet his eyes for the first time. Hazel, and framed by black lashes. And his face is, quite literally, beautiful. If I were confident, I'd smile and twirl my hair, before cracking a joke. Instead I blush slightly and look down at my lap. "Um, Elisabeth Archer," I reply, tapping my pencil against the table nervously. I glance up at him through my eyelashes and he flashes me a small smile. "So what brings you here, Elisabeth?" He asks, his eyes flickering to my sketchpad. I hastily shut it, before mumbling, "Oh, I couldn't sleep I guess, you?" He smirks, and nods in understanding. "Yeah, it's the same for me. Hey I haven't seen you around before. Are you new here?" He questions suddenly. I nod shyly, blushing again. "Mhmmm. I just moved here with my sister from England," I explain, and that small smile flickers across his face again. "That's awesome," he states, before taking a long gulp of his coffee and checking his watch. "Look it's almost 6. Why don't we both head back to our places and meet up here tomorrow at 4?" He asks, standing abruptly. I nod, and open my mouth to ask where he goes to school, but he's already halfway to the door. "Have a good day, Elisabeth," He calls, sending me a wave over his shoulder. I sigh and mumble, "Goodbye, Gerard," before gathering up my stuff and heading home.

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