Smile, Bitch. Stand Up and Smile.
Chapter no.1
Nobody's POV
“You know, I just don’t know how to say it… but I love you.” She said, with a tiny little hope in her big, blue eyes.
He raised one eyebrow at her (I shall actually specify that it was the left one, because it was the only one he could raise – especially at her), then smiled. She (disrespectfully) chuckled, being pretty sure about the answers:
‘Like in all fan-fictions and movies, it shall be yes… right?’ her beautiful eyes asked herself, as she was waiting for the crucifying answer.
He stubbornly continued to smile, but you could see his face was all the way to Lapland. ‘What is he doing? Thinking? Thinking of how to say anything? I understand, Gerard. I really do. Just please answer…?’ she fought with herself, while he tried to open his mouth. She pleaded with her eyes, but he sighed and finally spoke:
”I’m sorry Emily, but it’s going nowhere.” He turned back to the big crowd of fans, forgetting her and forgetting probably everything, signing an autograph, moving further to another smile and another photo.
‘That’s just the way she should find out what’s going on. It’s nothing onto us. She’s a false hoper. But why…?’ he thought, while a fan was spelling his name horrible and asking him when the second album of the band will come out.
He smiled and continued to scribble his signature on the wet papers.
‘It’s raining, is it?’ he realized, but before he could answer he turned away and saw that familiar face which he killed two moments ago.
“Gerard…” she yelled, obviously losing her tiny voice which she always kept safe most of the times.
“Gerard!” she tried again, but the young man wouldn’t care.
She was out of his life. For now. For ever. However, he sighed again and gestured to her to stop, and obviously wait for him to answer her pleading.
‘What’s it so important? Another beg? She knows I’m serious. Another ‘why’? She already knows the reasons.
She accepted them long time ago, when we took her on the bloody tour with us.’ He sighed another time, signing another wet paper with his marker which lost color and moved right away to Emily.
“What’s it, Emily?” He asked, like nothing happened. He truly didn’t care about her. He never did. She just put hopes. ‘Bad ones.’ He explained to his own mind, like he was excusing himself.
“Gerard…” She started again, like something wrong happened. He paid no attention and made a confused face, gesturing to the big crowd of fans. “Gerard…” she tried again, but she stopped, looking at Gerard’s back. “Gerard. Why?” she asked stubbornly.
“You know why, Emily. You know everything. You’re a small prick who made up a good replica to work on some people. But not on me. We are not a pair. You’re 20. And it’s not like in the fan-fictions and movies which you see Saturday night with Frank. It’s over.” He said in one breath, making her cry. “It’s over, hear me? For now, you’re no Em or Emmy. You’re just Emily Louise Roosevelt. And I’m Mr. Way. I like formalities, by the way. Now may I say… go away?” He almost yelled the first part, making her cry even more.
“Pathetic.” He mumbled to himself while going back to the tour bus, which was waiting for him. He hated his band members. They weren’t funny. They weren’t sad. They were just purely weird and plastically made.
And why did he hate them, what did he hate Emily, why did all these happen? Why is everything so stupid in this big, wide, world and why are we all dying to be with celebrities, when we have our own lives?
That’s what you’re going to find out. If you want to, if you understand that ‘Not everything that flies can be eaten.’ That’s a big ‘if’ to a big question.
“You know, I just don’t know how to say it… but I love you.” She said, with a tiny little hope in her big, blue eyes.
He raised one eyebrow at her (I shall actually specify that it was the left one, because it was the only one he could raise – especially at her), then smiled. She (disrespectfully) chuckled, being pretty sure about the answers:
‘Like in all fan-fictions and movies, it shall be yes… right?’ her beautiful eyes asked herself, as she was waiting for the crucifying answer.
He stubbornly continued to smile, but you could see his face was all the way to Lapland. ‘What is he doing? Thinking? Thinking of how to say anything? I understand, Gerard. I really do. Just please answer…?’ she fought with herself, while he tried to open his mouth. She pleaded with her eyes, but he sighed and finally spoke:
”I’m sorry Emily, but it’s going nowhere.” He turned back to the big crowd of fans, forgetting her and forgetting probably everything, signing an autograph, moving further to another smile and another photo.
‘That’s just the way she should find out what’s going on. It’s nothing onto us. She’s a false hoper. But why…?’ he thought, while a fan was spelling his name horrible and asking him when the second album of the band will come out.
He smiled and continued to scribble his signature on the wet papers.
‘It’s raining, is it?’ he realized, but before he could answer he turned away and saw that familiar face which he killed two moments ago.
“Gerard…” she yelled, obviously losing her tiny voice which she always kept safe most of the times.
“Gerard!” she tried again, but the young man wouldn’t care.
She was out of his life. For now. For ever. However, he sighed again and gestured to her to stop, and obviously wait for him to answer her pleading.
‘What’s it so important? Another beg? She knows I’m serious. Another ‘why’? She already knows the reasons.
She accepted them long time ago, when we took her on the bloody tour with us.’ He sighed another time, signing another wet paper with his marker which lost color and moved right away to Emily.
“What’s it, Emily?” He asked, like nothing happened. He truly didn’t care about her. He never did. She just put hopes. ‘Bad ones.’ He explained to his own mind, like he was excusing himself.
“Gerard…” She started again, like something wrong happened. He paid no attention and made a confused face, gesturing to the big crowd of fans. “Gerard…” she tried again, but she stopped, looking at Gerard’s back. “Gerard. Why?” she asked stubbornly.
“You know why, Emily. You know everything. You’re a small prick who made up a good replica to work on some people. But not on me. We are not a pair. You’re 20. And it’s not like in the fan-fictions and movies which you see Saturday night with Frank. It’s over.” He said in one breath, making her cry. “It’s over, hear me? For now, you’re no Em or Emmy. You’re just Emily Louise Roosevelt. And I’m Mr. Way. I like formalities, by the way. Now may I say… go away?” He almost yelled the first part, making her cry even more.
“Pathetic.” He mumbled to himself while going back to the tour bus, which was waiting for him. He hated his band members. They weren’t funny. They weren’t sad. They were just purely weird and plastically made.
And why did he hate them, what did he hate Emily, why did all these happen? Why is everything so stupid in this big, wide, world and why are we all dying to be with celebrities, when we have our own lives?
That’s what you’re going to find out. If you want to, if you understand that ‘Not everything that flies can be eaten.’ That’s a big ‘if’ to a big question.