Through the Light of the Bottle
A Collision of Sorts
This is un-fucking-believable.
“Alcohol didn’t ruin my life. It almost destroyed it,” a somber Gerard Way spoke to me via a channel four commercial.
I grabbed my coat, fingers flying over the number for a cab on my cell phone as I threw the remote at the television in pure anger.
“Take a shot of the truth,” his soft voice crept through the room as I slammed the door shut, storming out int othe hotel halls and into the sticky Jersey summer night.
I called his cell five times in the cab, before it dropped me off at a deserted parking lot, the trash sticking helplessly to the black pavement, serving a reminder of the action that had adorned the setting earlier.
Roadies milled about, loading the last of their equipment, going through their now subconscious post-concert routine.
I marched up to a giant black bus, slamming my fist against the door.
“Hey, Katie darling,” his smile spreads across his face, threatening to jump over to mine.
“Take a shot of the truth,” I mock cynically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you also wrote for School House Rock on the side!”
He rolls his eyes, turning around and heading back upstairs, “Kate, how painful is that stick up your ass?”
“Excuse me?” I grab the door before it swings shut and follow him aggressively up the bus steps to find an empty common area.
“Why do you have such a problem with me saying what I want to say,” he turns around sharply, halting his motions. I stop short of him, swaying from the quick stop.
“Cause they listen to you,” I yell, aggravated, “I mean, do you not understand who I work for?”
“I know who you goddamn work for,” he steps closer, if that’s even possible, our eyes so close that his are blending into one, as they stare intently into mine.
“Then why are you asking me why I’m here?” and the closer we get to each other, the louder our voices become.
“I can say whatever I damn well want to!”
“And I can tell you to shut up whenever I damn well want to!” I shoot back.
“Not if I shut you up first,” his voice grows dangerously low as he grabs the collar of my shirt, pushing me backwards.
My back slams against the wall and his body presses close to mine, his hot breath taunting my right shoulder as he hovers expectantly about it, head bent down, eyes tightly shut.
His face is scrunched up and I can practically feel his mind racing and I’m staring in slight shock, trying to comprehend how I ended up in this predicament.
Until his eyes shoot open and his grip tightens slightly on me. He pushes me farther, my back staring to become fucking attached to wall, as his lips collide with mine, so violently that my head slams backwards, crash against the wall with my back, resulting in a loud thump that echos the entire bus.
Gerard’s demeanor snaps at the sound, pulling back quickly, releasing his grip.
“Kate, I’m-“his soft voice is back as searches for words. He looks at my dumbfounded staggered expression as I blindly feel the back of my head for any damage.
I smile weakly, feeling a large bump staring to form.
“If I said I was in excruciating pain, would you agree to stop making commercials?” I laugh feebly, side stepping his stationary form to find some ice.
He grabs me by the shoulders before I can pass, one hand holding me still as the other hand lightly holds the back of my head.
“Shit,” he whispers, his eyes leaking concern as they search my face for any broken parts.
“I’m really okay Gerard,” I try to laugh it off and step around him, only I move to fast. My vision becomes blurred as I sway dangerously, grabbing feebly onto Gerard’s shoulder.
“Here,” his voice is so soft, as he tries to lead me to towards the back of the bus.
I panic.
“No,” I quickly cry louder than I meant to, my head ringing from the sharp noise.
“Kate, I’m just trying,”
“No, look, I’m fine, just leave me alone,” I struggle my way out of his grip, walking as fast as I could towards to door.
“Kate, seriously, just sit down.”
“You can’t just be all fucking peachy with me,” I yell, tears pooling in my eyes, “I’m not suppose, this…no.” I end my rambling, the tears falling abruptly.
And his arms around me, before my eyes comprehend that he moved across the room to my stuttering figure.
And my lips collide with his, the kiss filled with force and desperation, with both a longing and a need for each other’s touch.
“Alcohol didn’t ruin my life. It almost destroyed it,” a somber Gerard Way spoke to me via a channel four commercial.
I grabbed my coat, fingers flying over the number for a cab on my cell phone as I threw the remote at the television in pure anger.
“Take a shot of the truth,” his soft voice crept through the room as I slammed the door shut, storming out int othe hotel halls and into the sticky Jersey summer night.
I called his cell five times in the cab, before it dropped me off at a deserted parking lot, the trash sticking helplessly to the black pavement, serving a reminder of the action that had adorned the setting earlier.
Roadies milled about, loading the last of their equipment, going through their now subconscious post-concert routine.
I marched up to a giant black bus, slamming my fist against the door.
“Hey, Katie darling,” his smile spreads across his face, threatening to jump over to mine.
“Take a shot of the truth,” I mock cynically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you also wrote for School House Rock on the side!”
He rolls his eyes, turning around and heading back upstairs, “Kate, how painful is that stick up your ass?”
“Excuse me?” I grab the door before it swings shut and follow him aggressively up the bus steps to find an empty common area.
“Why do you have such a problem with me saying what I want to say,” he turns around sharply, halting his motions. I stop short of him, swaying from the quick stop.
“Cause they listen to you,” I yell, aggravated, “I mean, do you not understand who I work for?”
“I know who you goddamn work for,” he steps closer, if that’s even possible, our eyes so close that his are blending into one, as they stare intently into mine.
“Then why are you asking me why I’m here?” and the closer we get to each other, the louder our voices become.
“I can say whatever I damn well want to!”
“And I can tell you to shut up whenever I damn well want to!” I shoot back.
“Not if I shut you up first,” his voice grows dangerously low as he grabs the collar of my shirt, pushing me backwards.
My back slams against the wall and his body presses close to mine, his hot breath taunting my right shoulder as he hovers expectantly about it, head bent down, eyes tightly shut.
His face is scrunched up and I can practically feel his mind racing and I’m staring in slight shock, trying to comprehend how I ended up in this predicament.
Until his eyes shoot open and his grip tightens slightly on me. He pushes me farther, my back staring to become fucking attached to wall, as his lips collide with mine, so violently that my head slams backwards, crash against the wall with my back, resulting in a loud thump that echos the entire bus.
Gerard’s demeanor snaps at the sound, pulling back quickly, releasing his grip.
“Kate, I’m-“his soft voice is back as searches for words. He looks at my dumbfounded staggered expression as I blindly feel the back of my head for any damage.
I smile weakly, feeling a large bump staring to form.
“If I said I was in excruciating pain, would you agree to stop making commercials?” I laugh feebly, side stepping his stationary form to find some ice.
He grabs me by the shoulders before I can pass, one hand holding me still as the other hand lightly holds the back of my head.
“Shit,” he whispers, his eyes leaking concern as they search my face for any broken parts.
“I’m really okay Gerard,” I try to laugh it off and step around him, only I move to fast. My vision becomes blurred as I sway dangerously, grabbing feebly onto Gerard’s shoulder.
“Here,” his voice is so soft, as he tries to lead me to towards the back of the bus.
I panic.
“No,” I quickly cry louder than I meant to, my head ringing from the sharp noise.
“Kate, I’m just trying,”
“No, look, I’m fine, just leave me alone,” I struggle my way out of his grip, walking as fast as I could towards to door.
“Kate, seriously, just sit down.”
“You can’t just be all fucking peachy with me,” I yell, tears pooling in my eyes, “I’m not suppose, this…no.” I end my rambling, the tears falling abruptly.
And his arms around me, before my eyes comprehend that he moved across the room to my stuttering figure.
And my lips collide with his, the kiss filled with force and desperation, with both a longing and a need for each other’s touch.