Absinthe In Colour Purple *frerard*

3. Like a Rolling Stone

A/N Lots of lyrics and references.

He woke up due to the trembling of the seat. 

"How many roads must a man walk down, before you call him a man..."

He pealed his cheek off the window and brushed the sleep from his hazel eyes. They were gazing forward with wonder and intrigue. 

"The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind...!"

The cool and educated joined in with enthusiasm. Their eyes widened and lips stretched, barely covering huge grins, they sang their hearts out.

Gerard's mind was at last clear. He didn't have to recall the lyrics since this was already an anthem. Everyone knew this song. It wasn't loved by a few, but everybody sang along anyway.

"The answer is blowin' in the wind...!"

When he got back home, he thought, maybe he could learn it on guitar. It couldn't be that hard...

To tell the truth, he wasn't exactly returning home. Gerard was going to California with an aching in his heart. Necessarily it refracted for a while, like a dark beam of sunlight, but it never disappeared.

He didn't know what he was searching for. Maybe, like most, something they couldn't quite grasp. Since it wasn't proved, it might not even exist. Just an idiot or a dreamer would have gone so far only to come back empty-handed. So how are they different? 

Perhaps a dreamer wouldn't give up until it appeared. Hope is enough, more than enough.

Gerard looked around the dirty old bus. How many of them are idiots? 

There was a woman knitting behind him. It came across like a promising red sock. Will she used it herself or pass it on?

Gerard returned to his elementary question. The answer to what the fuck he was doing here, wasn't seen anywhere near. 

He thought people around him would offer a signpost. But the only guidelines he could actually follow, were probably in Mikey's hands, listened by his ears and telling him something completely different.

The bus was imploding from hippies. Maybe because it was summertime or a concert. Most of the teenagers, at least in summer, had a hippie attitude towards life. It couldn't be avoided. And Gerard was more than fine with it.

He was staring at the window's reflection. Despite its moist, he could see a beautiful young girl. She had flowers in her hair and was singing something he didn't recognize. Beside her sat a boy, about his age, talking to someone in the back, occasionally including the maiden. Her strawberry hair was so appealing, Gerard couldn't tear his gaze away. 

She seemed to lock her eyes with his, and after a sheer heart attack, Gerard remembered she probably only admired the view. 

The boy pulled a guitar out of god knows where, and started strumming gently. His long tanned fingers hypnotized everyone around. People quieted down, just enough for Gerard to block out the sounds, and that's when he started.

The girl waved and laughed melodically. The senior's blushed cheeks revealed an honest mistake. Nonetheless, he turned around and nodded at the couple. 

The tanned blonde winked and tapped against the brown case, "any wishes?"

Way turned his body completely and shrugged his shoulders, "something classic...I suppose everyone knows Denver? Country Roads?"

The redhead's smile grew incredibly larger as she whispered something in her boyfriend's ear.

Like a virus, a smile grew on him as well, and he began the song, now echoing through an almost silent bus.