Smile, Bitch. Stand Up and Smile.
Chapter no.2
Gerard's POV
The cold streets of London. Oxford Street. A small girl, 15 or 16 as a matter of fact in the age part, was standing there, waiting. I didn’t know what exactly she was waiting for, but when 5 silhouettes showed up from a small pub down the street, I know she felt like what she waited for so long finally full-filled itself like some sort of strange feeling.
The toughest of them approached her, looking like some sick pervert, but she didn’t mind. A smile curved on her round, small, face which showed off how happy she was. Of course, the 5 silhouettes where me and my friends and the sick pervert was me. She was pretty hot. Not my type, but pretty hot. And who said one groupie will ruin my social life? Martha doesn’t care anyways. I smiled to her and touched her slowly on her arms, but then I distanced so I can inform her with my name.
“Gerard Way.” I stated, as I also informed her with my mates’ name. “Frank Iero, Bob Bryar and Mikes (my infantile brother). We all form My Chemical Romance. We’re coming from N.J., you know.” I loved to talk like that. I know everything comes to me. After all, I’m a star, right?
“I’m Emily Roosevelt. Nice to meet you, Gerard.” I raised one eyebrow. Gerard? Nobody’s calling me Gerard unless it’s my fucking mother or brother or my fucking band-mates or some close-o-fucking-friends. Especially a full-of-mouth girl which I met from the street who has a horrible faked-English accent.
“Girl, listen here.” I started, making her shiver. That’s always working.
”You. Not. Calling me Gerard. For you, it’s Mr. Way. But never, ever, Gerard. Sluts don’t call me that. Got it?” She nodded, like every slut does.
“But I’m not a slut.” She complained, while I laughed.
“Maybe you’re not now. But after we finish, you’ll be.” Frank explained her, while I giggled.
After the time we were done with her, we drugged her and took her with us in the Tour Bus. Jack, the driver, was used to that so he didn’t look surprised.
“Was she good?” was all he managed to slur through the alcohol and I nodded.
We put her on our usual ‘Slut-bunk’ and let her sleep, while we all went to the small living-room to laugh hysterically and eat pizza with a rubbish trace of posh ness which everyone loved to laugh at, again. We licked each other’s faces, like we always do, undressed each other, fucked each other (we were 5 so it was fun) and finally went to sleep, with the girl next to us. What was her name again…?
The cold streets of London. Oxford Street. A small girl, 15 or 16 as a matter of fact in the age part, was standing there, waiting. I didn’t know what exactly she was waiting for, but when 5 silhouettes showed up from a small pub down the street, I know she felt like what she waited for so long finally full-filled itself like some sort of strange feeling.
The toughest of them approached her, looking like some sick pervert, but she didn’t mind. A smile curved on her round, small, face which showed off how happy she was. Of course, the 5 silhouettes where me and my friends and the sick pervert was me. She was pretty hot. Not my type, but pretty hot. And who said one groupie will ruin my social life? Martha doesn’t care anyways. I smiled to her and touched her slowly on her arms, but then I distanced so I can inform her with my name.
“Gerard Way.” I stated, as I also informed her with my mates’ name. “Frank Iero, Bob Bryar and Mikes (my infantile brother). We all form My Chemical Romance. We’re coming from N.J., you know.” I loved to talk like that. I know everything comes to me. After all, I’m a star, right?
“I’m Emily Roosevelt. Nice to meet you, Gerard.” I raised one eyebrow. Gerard? Nobody’s calling me Gerard unless it’s my fucking mother or brother or my fucking band-mates or some close-o-fucking-friends. Especially a full-of-mouth girl which I met from the street who has a horrible faked-English accent.
“Girl, listen here.” I started, making her shiver. That’s always working.
”You. Not. Calling me Gerard. For you, it’s Mr. Way. But never, ever, Gerard. Sluts don’t call me that. Got it?” She nodded, like every slut does.
“But I’m not a slut.” She complained, while I laughed.
“Maybe you’re not now. But after we finish, you’ll be.” Frank explained her, while I giggled.
After the time we were done with her, we drugged her and took her with us in the Tour Bus. Jack, the driver, was used to that so he didn’t look surprised.
“Was she good?” was all he managed to slur through the alcohol and I nodded.
We put her on our usual ‘Slut-bunk’ and let her sleep, while we all went to the small living-room to laugh hysterically and eat pizza with a rubbish trace of posh ness which everyone loved to laugh at, again. We licked each other’s faces, like we always do, undressed each other, fucked each other (we were 5 so it was fun) and finally went to sleep, with the girl next to us. What was her name again…?