Make A Wish

“This is all your damn fault,” Gerard growled, running his hand through his long black hair in extreme agitation. “Bloody hell, Bert, there’s no need to improve my image. I’m already more sought after than I wanted to be! I can’t even go to a coffee house and enjoy some black coffee without being bothered by my damn fans!”

Moving so that he was close enough to be touching but not, Bert drawled in a low teasing voice, “It’s because you’re so sexy that your fans can’t help but be drawn to you. It’s your throaty voice, your sensual fingers, your long black hair, your tall muscular form, and that sharp and sarcastic tongue of yours that drives them mad crazy.”

“You’re not making this any easier,” Gerard snarled. “Unfortunately, the child’s already booked and there’s nothing I can do. Lovely, another brain dead fan that likes my music and doesn’t understand the lyrics. Simply abso-bloody-lutely fantastic. Too bad I’m a man of my word even if you were the one giving the promise for me.”

Bert smirked and settled his well formed body next to his best friend. “It’s the last media bit you’ll have to do for a few months at least. This will keep the magazines and the newspapers busy for quite a while. I can only imagine the possible headliners: ‘Gerard Not Severe, Fulfills Fan’s Wish,’ ‘Reticent Rock Star Grants Dying Wish,’ …”

“Running out of clever commentary?” Gerard interrupted snidely.

“Hardly,” Bert retorted, “but I can’t very well get you in a foul mood when the kid’s due to arrive at any moment. Unlike you, I prefer my image to the public to be more marketable in case your fans ever realize that you are a cruel bastard.”

“And you’re not?” Gerard shot back.

Bert chuckled lightly. “Not a bastard, maybe cruel. Definitely malicious.”

“I still don’t know how you got such a likable brat like Matt,” Gerard muttered.

“It’s all that selective breeding,” Bert responded, his eyebrow lifted with a definite edginess to it. “Never knew your taste ran to younger men though. My, my, I must warn my Dragon. Such a pity my son’s incurably straight, you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

Gerard snorted and shoved hard at Bert to get him from invading his side of the couch. “You sick pervert.”

“Now, now-- it’s not my fault I see the beauty of both sides,” Bert murmured softly. “It’s such a bloody tragedy you’re as stubbornly homosexual as Matt is persistently heterosexual. There are so many more options if you were more receptive to the other sex.” Bert gave an exaggerated sigh of regret. “At least your fans don’t know. Your most rabid tend to be female. Interesting enough, this kid is a boy.” He paused and gave Gerard a scandalous look and winked. “Don’t make any proper advances now!”

“You sick bastard. He’s a kid, Bert!”

“Yeah, but he’s also male and you are irresistibly attracted to them,” Bert stated carelessly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But you can’t seduce a minor unless you intend to go to jail and never write music again.”

“Damn you,” Gerard muttered. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

~

Whatever he’d been expecting, it was vastly different. At the same time, it suited the atmosphere he’d conjured in his mind for Gerard Way. He’d thought Gerard’s quarters would be all black and sleek furnishing but he was delightful mistaken. The rooms were decorated in sleek silver and dark gunmetal gray in an entirely tasteful manner. Masculine yet elegant.

“If you will follow me this way,” the platinum blond young man murmured smoothly, gesturing for Frank and Lucy to tag along after him. “Mr. Way is expecting you in his study.”

Each step was a step closer to his dream. Every moment brought him closer to meeting the man that he worshipped and desired. Bloody hell. He felt the beginnings of a full blown body blush beginning at his cheeks and spreading down to the tips of his toes. He didn’t want it to be so obvious, his eagerness to see his idol. It was embarrassing enough as it was that he had no idea what he wanted to say to the man.

As they drew closer, he heard voices-- one crisp and aristocratic in inflection and another that was more subdued, but no less ear catching. No wonder why, it was Gerard’s silky smooth voice. That velvet edged voice. His ears strained to hear what they were saying, but he couldn’t quite catch the words.

Their elegant escort coughed to get their attention and gave them an apologetic smile. “It seems that Mr. Way is busy discussing business affairs with my father, if you won’t mind waiting…” his voice trailed off when the door at the end of the hallway in which they were heading to slammed open.

Out stalked Gerard Way garbed in skin tight black leather pants with a dark sleek gray collared shirt unbutton enough to show his creamy chest, just enough to make Frank want to turn into a puddle of drool. Sexy, tempting, dear god his fantasy was coming true-- he really was going to meet Gerard Way. It wasn’t just a dream anymore; it was going to be a reality.

Reality crashed. “I am not taking the brat on tour of London!” Gerard roared at the tall, well formed long blond man that was striding toward him from the room he’d just exited. “I have things that must be done! I never agreed to fulfilling any child’s wish! This is your damn publicity stunt, so why don’t you grant him--” He stopped in mid tirade when he realized that the so called child he was talking about was standing there with the most distressing expression.

So much for the dream. This was a freaking nightmare. Frank didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to stay, but where else could he go? Anywhere, anywhere else but stand there and take this load of crap from-- from the man he admired most! Turning abruptly around, he thought it was ironic justice that he was stalking out of the room not unlike Gerard Way.

“HOW DARE YOU!” came the outraged voice of a middle-aged woman, who did not back down at the tremendous glare he sent her way. Instead, she only marched right up to him and jabbed her finger into his chest.

“ARE YOU A HUMAN BEING?” she cried out sharply. “Do you understand that that young man is terminally ill and is dying? And that his greatest wish was to meet you before he goes on one of his experimental treatments that will probably kill him?

“His chances of survival are marginal at best! Do you realize how rare it is for leukemia to go into remission twice?” Lucy asked, but more like demanded a response from the cold blooded man in front of her. “And yet, with the limited time that he has left on this Earth, he chose to spend a week of it with you! What’s even worse is that you can’t even pretend to make him happy! Is it so hard? To make a sweet, innocent boy that worships you happy? Are you that jaded?”

Awkward silence descended. It was only disturbed when Matt just gave Gerard a glance that said ‘you’ve messed up big time, but I’ll see if I can fix it’ before strolling off to follow Frank’s abrupt retreat. No one left in the room said anything, though Lucy kept glowering at him with quite a bit of bite for a woman of her size. Gerard was mildly impressed, though he’d be damned if he showed it especially since Bert was looking too full of himself.

Everyone seemed to be waiting on him. Why was he always the one that had to do something? Because he was famous. Because he was the celebrity. Because he was Gerard fucking Way. If he didn’t love making music so much, he’d really think that he was being punished for his natural talents. But when he played, he forgot about everything else.

Unfortunately, he tended to do that more often than he should. This was one of those cases. He’d forgotten that his life wasn’t only about music; it was also about the fans to. While a good majority were annoying prats, this kid-- actually the kid hadn’t looked like a kid but rather like a young man around Bert’s son’s age. Definitely not a child, not even a boy-- he was a young man. This fan wasn’t just any fan, this fan was a terminally ill fan.

Rotten selective memory. He’d let that part totally slip from his mind. He certainly hadn’t meant to upset the young man, even if he was rather irritated with Bert. Narrowing his dark eyes, he glared at his best friend with enough venom to kill the condescending git if he’d been a serpent. Too bad it failed to ruffle the conceited McCraggen. Nothing did, actually.
“I had not realized that…”

“Frank Iero,” Bert supplied the name.

“Mr. Iero had arrived,” Gerard continued his explanation to the glowering woman standing in front of him. She was a good deal more formidable than any that he’d recently had recently had the displeasure of meeting. Impressive really. “My hasty words,” he remarked, “were in no way aimed at his person, but at my…” he let his eyes drift to where Bert was standing with casual elegance, “agent who arranged this without letting me know until it had already been finalized.”

“That is still no excuse!” Lucy retorted. “You should have shown him more courtesy than you did, especially when you saw that he was standing there eagerly awaiting to meet you! You’ve crushed his spirits! What are you going to do?”

“Yes, Gerard,” Bert drawled, “what are you going to do?”

Fuck. He had no idea. Fucking hell.