New Aged Emo Imagines and Preferences (DISCONTINUED)

The Heart Rate Of A Mouse AU

"That's the opener?"

"But she's a girl?"

"And by herself."

"She looks like she's 15. That's insane!"

"I've heard of her. Apparently she's really good."

"How did Trohman even find the girl?"

"Why's her hair so short?"

"She looks like she's mixed too."

That's all I hear from the crew I'm stuck with for 4 months. I shrug it off, looking to find Joe. I bump into someone harshly. I instantly turn around to apologize. His brown eyes lock on mine. My suitcase goes slightly out of balance but I quickly fix it.

"Sorry about that." I say softly.

"It's fine. Just keep an eye out while you're walking through backstage. I'm Brendon, one of the roadies." I shake his hand, smiling and nodding. After I let go, I readjust my backpack.

"(Y/N). I'm the opener." He grins.

"Yeah, I heard the crew saying there was mixed girl walking through here." I nod, running a hand through my 3c hair.

"Heh heh, yeah. Uhh, do you know where Joe Trohman is?" I ask, awkwardly, know that that's how I'm gonna be known on the tour. 'The mixed girl'.

"Dressing room. Opposite side of the stage, fourth door on the left."

"Thanks Brendon. See you later." I wink, walking away. He chuckles behind my back. When I get to the door, I knock quietly.

"Who is it?" I hear an unfamiliar voice shout at me. He sounds angry.

"(Y/N) (L/N)! Where's Joe Trohman!" I shout back. The door opens to where I find a very tired looking brunette, glaring.

"He's in the next room over. Look there."

"Okay, don't be rude, first of all. Second of all, who are you?" I snap back.

"Ryan Ross. Singer for The Followers." He says, annoyed as hell. I look him up and down, not very impressed, and kind of annoyed with his whole "don't you know who I am? You should be bowing down to me" attitude.

"Great. One of the roadies told me fourth door on the left. He must have fucked up. Whatever. See you later, Ryan." I roll my eyes. He scoffs, clearly pissed at something. I go to the next door over, knocking.

"Joe Trohman?" I ask for the third time in 10 minutes. The door bursts open, revealing who I'm looking for. His dark curly hair sticks out in every direction, blue eyes blazing, looking me up and down, glaring at my hair a little.

"Who are you exactly?"

"(Y/N) (L/N). You talked to me in New York City, saying you thought I would be good as an opener for your band, then called me telling me you really wanted me as an opener?" I explain. He nods finally.

"(Y/N)! Oh, I thought you were-?" He goes to ask, but cuts himself off.

"You thought I was white?" I deadpan. "No, it's fine. I'm half and half. Anyway," he lets out a small laugh, seeming to have this small bit of relief, "I need to ask you something."

"Go for it, doll." I roll my eyes at the attempt at a flirt.

"Who am I supposed to go to to figure out what I'm doing and who I give my set to?" I state, looking him in the eye, silently telling him I'm here for business. He sighs slightly.

"Look for Pete. He'll probably either be out at the bus, or side of the stage."

"Thank you." I readjust my bag on my shoulder, rolling my suitcase behind me quickly.