Keep the Faith

Saviours

I grunt as an arm slips around my waist, pulling me of this chick forcefully.
“SHE FUCKING DESERVES IT,” I yell, as she didn’t get the full deal, because I was interrupted.
Whoever is pulling me away doesn’t listen though, and gets me a couple of feet away from her.

I really just want to go back and gauge her eyes out. She doesn’t know shit about it, obviously.
Who the fuck does she think she is?

As the man puts me down, he keeps a tight grip on me to keep me from reaching the girl again.
“Don’t turn to violence. Never, ever turn to violence. Don’t lower yourself like that,” he says, and I swear I know that voice all too well, but anger keeps me from recognizing it.

“Fuck off,” I hiss. “She really thinks she’s all that. Why the fuck would she come here, anyway? She only wants to break the band, and I only want to protect them from fucks like her. Shaking that head of hers might just help her realize things.”
The man tries turning me around to look me in the eye probably, but I am still trying to get out of his hands to have some more revenge on the chick.

She’s standing up now, as one of her equally ignorant friends is supporting her and another one is taking some care of her beat up face, but I still don’t think it looks bad enough. She obviously didn’t change her mind yet, as she’s throwing me and the man behind me dirty looks.
“YOU’RE JUST A FUCKING TRAITOR,” I yell at her. “WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK OF THEM LIKE THAT?!” She only looks up, and the look in her eyes gets even dirtier, more hating.
I swear, I could just kill that slut and never ever feel sorry for it.

I guess he feels me tensing up, as he lifts me for the second, causing me to try and wriggle out of his arms again. He carries me around the corner, getting the girl out of my sight, and puts me against the bus.
“Why the fuck would you carry me away? You’re here, you should know what the band is about,” I grunt. “I know they’re against violence and all, but you should have heard all the fucking lies she told about them, especially about Gerard!”
The man sits down, as he pulls my sleeve for me to do the same. I silently obey to the strange power he has over me, and sink down next to him.

“I definitely know what the band is about. It’s been my life for like, what?, the past 6 years or so,” the man says.

“Well, in that case, you win. They’ve been mine for two years now, but shit. They still amaze me big time,” I reply, calming down a bit.

“How?” he asks. I snort.

“You sure they’ve been your life?”
I hear the girl of just a minute ago yell some god awful curse word again, and I immediately jolt towards where her voice came from again.

If there is something I can’t stand, it’s people like her.
Once had faith, then all of a sudden decided to give up, because the band became ‘mainstream’ and ‘emo’, now totally hates them and only comes to shows to talk shit and bring sensitive fans to the verge of tears. I guess she wasn’t prepared that some of us actually still love them with our entire being, and that there’s some of us that would do anything to protect the band, even if that involves getting so infuriated you can’t do anything else but turn to violence, as much as you and the band are against it.

I don’t reach her, though, which is good for her, although I couldn’t care less about her wellbeing.
Before I know it, I’m up in the air again, and this time, he puts me down forcefully.

“Stop that,” he demands.

“WHY?” I yell, completely frustrated with the fact that I can’t do what I want to so badly. As I turn to the one person that has kept me from that up ‘till now, my eyes widen.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I s-should ha-have listened. I-I’m sorry,” I stumble, completely blown away.

“It’s alright. Hi, I’m Gerard,” he says. No shit, Sherlock. I would actually say that, but my tongue is tied, and a lump keeps on growing in my throat. I’m pretty sure it’s visible by now, how scary that may seem. All I do, is shyly put my hand up, and wave barely visible.

“So what did she say to get you this angry?” he asks, genuinely interested, as he sits down once again, and I follow his example.

“All this shit about you, and the band, and it’s just not fair. It’s like, who the fuck does she think she is to have the right to talk such lies and bullshit about five men she doesn’t even know?” I start, and anger gets my tongue loose again.
“It’s so unfair, you don’t deserve this. I’m one fan in a gazillion, but I do know that I’m not the only one that’s been saved by you five. We see you give up all these things for us, to rock a show almost every night, wearing yourselves out completely. We see you struggling with the hate comments. We’re not blind. We do realize we don’t know you in person, but we know you better than you probably think.”

Gerard sighs and shifts his eyes away from mine. We both know I’m speaking the truth.

“And yeah, of course, you do know what this band is about, more than anyone else. But I know more about what people say about you. You’re far from knowing 25 percent of all the bullshit. And you don’t even have a clue of what we do to stand up for the band,” I continue.

“So what do they say that I don’t know about?” he asks.

“They say you’re back on drugs, cocaine and such. They say that after a show, you came out on the parking lot, completely loaded and singing that ‘everyone should be drunk like you’ and all. There’s people who believe that, can you imagine? People lose faith because of such stupid lies. There’s so much bullshit, it’s insane. It’s devastating how fans leave you because they believe the lies of some stupid-ass haters.” Tears start stinging in my eyes, as I can’t get grip on the injustice.
“It’s so unfair, and I can’t do shit about it. They’re out to break you, and I’m so fucking frightened, paranoid even, that they will get their way sooner or later. We need you.” I know he’s shocked by this revealing. What else would you expect, the last thing you’d think of is Gerard going back on drugs and stuff.

As he slips his arm around me for me to lay my head on his shoulder, he whispers that they’ll be strong, thanks to determined fans like me. He tells me it’s people like us who keep them going against the storm of hatred. He says it’s the tearstained, yet happy faces in the crowd that always win against the booing of the haters.
He tells me about how amazing it feels to have kids shining on front rows – and even in the back, though he can’t see them – singing along every single word. He tells me about how, when he has a bad day, it gets all brightened up if he meets someone saying ‘thank you’ or ‘I love you’ even if it’s in the middle of the street.

“How can you put yourselves above all that? I can’t. I fight it with all my might, but at the end of the day, it still bends me, then breaks me. I just can’t think of any decent reasons to hate you. Things about your hair or your onstage antics just aren’t good reasons to hate. I don’t understand how they can hate with such shallow reasons. Dislike, okay, but hate? It’s such a strong word.”

“I know. And we can’t put ourselves above that, honestly. We talk about it a lot. But we keep reminding ourselves that those who still love us, mean so much more than those who gave up. We love you as much as you love us. You keep the faith in us. We keep the faith in you.”

I look up at him questioningly. “What is there to keep faith, in us?”

His eyes meet mine, and he turns his body towards me, sitting with his legs folded.

“Everything.”

I narrow my eyes, as one of my heroes is speaking in complete mysteries. He might be extremely, abnormally smart, but I’m no Einstein. He giggles as I tilt my head to add to the effect of my not-understanding.
He takes a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket, “You mind?”

“No, no, not at all,” I say, shaking my head.

“You want one?” he asks, shaking the pack in front of me.

“Non-smoker and intentions to keep it that way,” I smile.

“Smart kid,” Gerard says from the corner of his mouth as he lights a cancer stick. “It kills people,” he laughs.

Silence falls over us for a while, with my saviour puffing a ciggie next to me, reducing his lifetime. I feel like pulling the murderer from between his lips, but I keep myself from it, as I can understand where the need for nicotine comes from.

“What do you mean by everything?” I ask after about 15 minutes of silence, comfortable silence.

“Everything means everything. What’s there about you guys that we can’t keep the faith in?” he questions my question.

“We do all this shit. We break promises. We let our heroes down. We’re not always –“ I start rambling, but Gerard interrupts me almost immediately.

“So do we.”

“I know, but –“

“But what? You’re human, we don’t expect you guys to be perfect. Sometimes life gets hard. You slip and fall in the mud. We understand. We do the same things. Our fans are the best fans in the world. And I mean that. You guys are crazy.”

“About this band.” He smiles at my interruption.

“We know.” He says, then confessing how he once almost broke underneath all the pressure and expectations, fuelled hatred on top of all that, but met a group of fans right before he was about to do something extremely stupid.

I stare at him unbelievingly. “We do that?” He nods.

“More than you realize.”

I can’t resist, I hug him, tears now trickling their way down my face, leaving a slight trail of salty liquid.
Over his shoulder, I see Worm approaching, to tell Gerard it’s time to leave. I nod at him, then motion towards the bodyguard-friend to let Gerard know he has to go.

“Keep the faith,” we say at the same time, making us both giggle softly, then, again simultaneously, we say “We love you,” as we leave each other’s embraces and wave our goodbyes.

Goodbye, but not farewell.

Heroes are bound to meet again.