The story of a Lonesome ol'Jerome

2- Was it a good idea to try and get autographs?

*Gwyn's POV*

I sat down on my bed, trying not to feel lonely and not really succeeding. I thought again about my age- was I really old? I looked at my hands. They were small and chubby. I looked at my legs. The giant, tattooed, smiling salamander reminded me of my friend, Owen, who had passed away several years ago. The pink axolotl was based on a drawing of his. 'I miss you, dude,' I said. Looking into the blue eyes on my leg, I got this funny idea...

I had this thing with Black Veil Brides. Part of the reason I liked them so much was not only their music, but what they stood for, and how good they were to their fans. Rising up out of the darkness to fight for yourself, speaking for the disenfranchised- it elevated them from just 'a great band' to heroes, people I would take bullets for. And, I thought, wouldn't it be neat to see if I could get their autographs? In a respectful fashion, of course... If they were even signing. I'd heard that bands did that these days, though I'd never seen it. I didn't really know if that sort of thing happened before or after shows.

I thought about my tattoo reluctantly. Andy's was the last signature left, but the thought of showing Andy fucking Biersack my back made my skin crawl, I didn't want him to see any part of me unclothed! I also didn't like the idea because I feared it might seem exclusionary of the other BVB members, when I wasn't some simpering Andy fangirl. I mean, no shit, he was hot, but I really hated it when people cooed over him exclusively. It certainly wasn't that I didn't think they were all awesome, I just only had Andy's particularly pithy quote inked in permanently. If I had a case of the 'Andy Affliction,' I might die before admitting it to anyone.

I needed a plan of action. I decided I'd just ask Andy for his autograph, then ask it if I could use it as a stencil for the tattoo on my back- just wing it from there, maybe mention the quote. Maybe not the most clever, but better than having to reveal way too much skin, struggling with not getting sweaty for however many hours, then finding a tattoo parlor. I smiled to myself, remembering how I wasn't surprised when I discovered that Manson apparently had zero respect when it came to doing the right thing, at least where my back was concerned.

I wondered if it was irritating to sit and sign autographs. Probably... I felt a little guilty, but ultimately decided it would be ok to at least investigate. I could just go in the morning, and see what happened. I would do my best to say very little and take up as little of their time as possible, should I actually meet them, I decided. These dudes were real people that wanted to do things like eat, sleep, and talk to their loved ones. Live their lives. They didn't need to hear me, a stranger, spill their guts, or take a ton of photos.

I thought about it for a second, and a weird fear rose up. I remembered a video I had seen, an interview with Andy, with Bryan Stars. What if I ask them for autographs, and they greeted me as 'Jerome?' I chuckled. Well, the BVB Army needed all kinds of soldiers, even Jeromes like me, I imagined. I had never been 'pretty,' I never would be, and I just needed to embrace that and get over it.

I looked around online about how 'signings' typically happened these days. It was pretty unclear. Apparently: sporadically, generally after shows, and mostly if you were involved in meet-and-greets, VIP, or something? Oh well. I figured I would just go to the venue Saturday morning anyway, I had the whole weekend off, though I had to work Monday.