Status: Writer's Block = Another indefinite hold. Sorry for the inconvenience. I do vow to finish this story one day.
Did We All Fall Down?
Isabella
*Bob's POV*
The five of us entered the Haymarket. We normally sat downstairs, where the lighting was dim and the odd statues and paintings cast shadows that could set our imaginations on fire. Once in a while we would come here to write our songs, it had the perfect atmosphere. But today we stayed on the main floor, taking seats at a large wooden table with clawed feet. Frank sat on the end in his striped wheel chair.
"I'm buying, what do you guys want?" Mikey said. He made a mental note of which types of coffee we each wanted and went to buy them. He made his way back with the coffee mugs on a tray, when a brunette in her early twenties approached us, carrying a purple tote bag.
We all suddenly realized she was the same woman that had wandered into Frank's hospital room, claiming to be a fan. I bristled at the thought of her deceiving us by disguising herself in that way.
"Ciao," she greeted with a smug grin. She cleared her throat and sat down next to Gerard. I could see his jaw clench. She had seen too, her grin grew wider.
I had a feeling we were about to dig ourselves into a deeper hole....
*Isabella's POV*
I felt a chill emanating from all the members of My Chemical Romance. A hint of nervousness. It was kind of entertaining. They were right to be nervous. Bad press made more controversy, and more controversy sold more magazines. Besides if People, a relatively popular magazine, trashed an emo punk rock band it just made fo r a few more laughs from our preppy teenage girls who made up 75% of the consumers for the magazine.
"Alright, do you mind if I record this as well as taking notes?" I asked. They all looked at each other for a second.
"Sure," Gerard Way said through clenched teeth.
I promptly pulled a tiny digital recorder out of my bag along with my composition book. I opened to a fresh page, pen in hand.
Starting the recorder I posed my first question:
"So what do you have to say about the car accident?" I asked.
Frank Iero spoke; "I was driving down a back road, and a deer jumped in the middle of the road. I tried to avoid it but I was going too fast and smashed into a tree."
"You were speeding? Off the record: Were you drunk or -- ?"
"No I wasn't drunk. I just wasn't thinking. I was probably 20 miles over the limit, but only because I was on a deserted road, trust me I've learned my lesson." Iero interrupted.
"Yes, I couldn't help but notice the, uh, colorful wheelchair you're in... " I said distastefully. "How long before you're jumping around on stage again, or is it more serious?"
"No, a few fractures. I should be fine in a few months. It's not as bad as you would think especially the way my car ended up, I was very lucky. It was crushed, and here I am, with almost no damage in comparison." Frank said.
"Uh-huh... So," I looked at the other members, "What were your reactions to finding out your band mate had been in a car accident?"
"We were really, really worried. We're more than a band, we're best friends, family. We came straight to the hospital to see him." Gerard answered.
"So all arguments were forgotten?" I asked.
"We hadn't had any arguments..." Ray said.
"A confidential source says they saw Gerard Way and Frank Iero having an argument outside." I lied expertly.
"Well, we didn't. I don't know where you heard that, but it's not true." Gerard said defensively.
"Alright, alright..."
I continued the interview until eight o'clock, Slowly infuriating them more and more. It was a good tactic, the angrier they got the more they let slip. Nothing terribly incriminating... but if twisted slightly, looked at from a different angle, this article could be even juicier than the last.
Right before I was ready to wrap up I asked if I could get a few pictures of the band and Iero's wheel chair. They grudgingly agreed. I pulled out my digital camera and snapped a few shots. I knew before I came that I wanted pictures of them but not by a professional. I wanted them to look real, not staged and perfect. I wanted to try to capture their insecurities and after two hours of being badgered by me they were giving off that look in waves. I piled everything back into my tote bag and stood up.
"See you, boys," I said.
I heard one of them mutter as I walked away, "I hope not."
The five of us entered the Haymarket. We normally sat downstairs, where the lighting was dim and the odd statues and paintings cast shadows that could set our imaginations on fire. Once in a while we would come here to write our songs, it had the perfect atmosphere. But today we stayed on the main floor, taking seats at a large wooden table with clawed feet. Frank sat on the end in his striped wheel chair.
"I'm buying, what do you guys want?" Mikey said. He made a mental note of which types of coffee we each wanted and went to buy them. He made his way back with the coffee mugs on a tray, when a brunette in her early twenties approached us, carrying a purple tote bag.
We all suddenly realized she was the same woman that had wandered into Frank's hospital room, claiming to be a fan. I bristled at the thought of her deceiving us by disguising herself in that way.
"Ciao," she greeted with a smug grin. She cleared her throat and sat down next to Gerard. I could see his jaw clench. She had seen too, her grin grew wider.
I had a feeling we were about to dig ourselves into a deeper hole....
*Isabella's POV*
I felt a chill emanating from all the members of My Chemical Romance. A hint of nervousness. It was kind of entertaining. They were right to be nervous. Bad press made more controversy, and more controversy sold more magazines. Besides if People, a relatively popular magazine, trashed an emo punk rock band it just made fo r a few more laughs from our preppy teenage girls who made up 75% of the consumers for the magazine.
"Alright, do you mind if I record this as well as taking notes?" I asked. They all looked at each other for a second.
"Sure," Gerard Way said through clenched teeth.
I promptly pulled a tiny digital recorder out of my bag along with my composition book. I opened to a fresh page, pen in hand.
Starting the recorder I posed my first question:
"So what do you have to say about the car accident?" I asked.
Frank Iero spoke; "I was driving down a back road, and a deer jumped in the middle of the road. I tried to avoid it but I was going too fast and smashed into a tree."
"You were speeding? Off the record: Were you drunk or -- ?"
"No I wasn't drunk. I just wasn't thinking. I was probably 20 miles over the limit, but only because I was on a deserted road, trust me I've learned my lesson." Iero interrupted.
"Yes, I couldn't help but notice the, uh, colorful wheelchair you're in... " I said distastefully. "How long before you're jumping around on stage again, or is it more serious?"
"No, a few fractures. I should be fine in a few months. It's not as bad as you would think especially the way my car ended up, I was very lucky. It was crushed, and here I am, with almost no damage in comparison." Frank said.
"Uh-huh... So," I looked at the other members, "What were your reactions to finding out your band mate had been in a car accident?"
"We were really, really worried. We're more than a band, we're best friends, family. We came straight to the hospital to see him." Gerard answered.
"So all arguments were forgotten?" I asked.
"We hadn't had any arguments..." Ray said.
"A confidential source says they saw Gerard Way and Frank Iero having an argument outside." I lied expertly.
"Well, we didn't. I don't know where you heard that, but it's not true." Gerard said defensively.
"Alright, alright..."
I continued the interview until eight o'clock, Slowly infuriating them more and more. It was a good tactic, the angrier they got the more they let slip. Nothing terribly incriminating... but if twisted slightly, looked at from a different angle, this article could be even juicier than the last.
Right before I was ready to wrap up I asked if I could get a few pictures of the band and Iero's wheel chair. They grudgingly agreed. I pulled out my digital camera and snapped a few shots. I knew before I came that I wanted pictures of them but not by a professional. I wanted them to look real, not staged and perfect. I wanted to try to capture their insecurities and after two hours of being badgered by me they were giving off that look in waves. I piled everything back into my tote bag and stood up.
"See you, boys," I said.
I heard one of them mutter as I walked away, "I hope not."
♠ ♠ ♠
Yup, the infamous Isabella is revealed to MCR.Comments please.
~aep