A Love Song For The Things I Didn't Do

Something was smashing in Aly’s chest - an anchor, gravity.



Their band had come so far. Here they were, about to play their first live show with music they’d written themselves and oh God, this was happening.

My Chemical Romance, they called themselves, and they sincerely hoped that soon others would be calling them that too. They imagined a roaring crowd before them, chanting it, over and over: My Chemical Romance, My Chemical Romance!

They were backstage now at a real venue (it didn’t matter that it was small, grimy, and unpopulated) and they were about to go on.



Aly, Frank, and Ray paced backstage in almost complete darkness, listening with subtle irritation to the band that was playing before them.



“I swear, if Mikey and Gerard aren’t here in the next five minutes...” Ray sighed in aggravation, wringing his hands and looking around furiously.



“Where the fuck could they even be?” Frank hissed, squinting down at his watch.



Aly imagined a car wreck -- glass everywhere -- blaring ambulances...she sucked in a quick breath, trying to get the image out of her head. She forced herself to imagine them amongst something nice and safe...maybe some flowers or puppies...



“Hey guys,” Gerard said from behind, cutting off her awkward thoughts and slinging his arm around her waist.



“Where have you been?” Frank was raging. “We go on in ten minutes.”



Gerard stumbled a bit, and even in the dark, Aly could tell he was drunk. 

Her entire body tensed. She wanted to give him an open-palmed SMACK in the face for being so stupid.



“This is your first show,” she said through her teeth. “And you’re...drunk.”



“What? You’re drunk? Come on, seriously, man?” Ray was practically yelling.



“Shush, would you? Me and Mikey were freaking out so we went out to the van and just pounded some beer. We’re good now.”



“No, you’re not good,” Aly insisted, suppressing the urge to knock him right off his stupid, clumsy feet. “You’re going to mess up all the lyrics and ruin everything we’ve been working for.”



He waved it off and patted her back assuringly. “You just wait and see.”



Mikey patted her back as well, echoing Gerard’s words: “Just wait and see, Aly.”

She brushed both of their hands away and stood in place, quietly fuming, until their names were announced and they awkwardly made their way to the stage.

Gerard thanked the crowd for coming, his words rolling out stupidly and sloppily.



“This first song is called Drowning Lessons. Sing along with me!” he slurred into the microphone.



Aly rolled her eyes. He didn’t actually think anyone was going to know the lyrics?



As soon as they started, though, the crowd seemed to get into it. They jumped along, thrashing their fists into the air.



Aly watched in shock, trying to keep up with her drum beat. Gerard was a raving mess and the music they’d rehearsed for countless weeks was coming out all wrong. How could the crowd actually be enjoying this?



Before they knew it, their five songs were up and Gerard was blowing sweaty kisses at the crowd.

 He thanked them repeatedly and the band shuffled off the stage, wondering what the hell had just happened.



Aly stormed ahead, but Gerard caught up and grabbed onto her wrist.



“Hey. Are you mad?” he asked, panting and breathless.



She pulled out of his grasp. “What even just happened? We were...awful.”



“We were great!” he insisted. “That was a killer first performance.”



“No,” she said. “We were all over the place. We were out of tune. We were shit.”



“Okay, Miss Perfect,” Frank said from behind Gerard. He had a towel around his neck and he looked drained and satisfied. “I thought we were awesome. Stop bringing us down, would you?”



Overcome with crippling irritation, she stalked out of the venue. Finally alone in the cold parking lot behind the building, she sat on the curb and sighed. She had to keep telling herself that not everything would always go as she planned.



Naturally, within seconds, the door was opening behind her and Gerard was joining her on the curb.

 He sat down, a lit cigarette between his fingers. 

She appreciated that he wasn’t bombarding her with questions or arguments. 

Finally, she sighed, long and tired. It was impossible to stay mad at Gerard.
 
She looked at him and he looked at her, smirking.



“Feel better?” he asked, handing her his cigarette.

 She took it from him, took a short drag, sputtered and coughed, and then handed it back to him. He chuckled and watched her. She was adorable and quirky and he hated seeing her so uptight all the time.

He meant to say something sweet and assuring, but before he could get his words together, she was leaning forward and kissing him. She could taste cheap beer on his lips, but it hardly mattered at this point. She just loved him and sometimes, she had to overlook the minuscule flaws.



He kissed her back, grateful that Angry Aly was gone, replaced with his sweet, familiar girlfriend.

 They kissed like that for a while, until both of their jaws started tightening in pain. Aly maneuvered herself onto his lap and continued to make-out with him, holding onto tufts of his hair.



He pulled back suddenly, his smile growing.

“What if I told you we had a record deal lined up?”



She stared at him in blank astonishment. “Shut up.”



“I’m being serious. We talked to some producers. We’re signing onto Eyeball Records.”



She continued to gape at him, trying to make sense of his words.



“You’re...serious?”



“I’m serious, Al. We’re going to make a record.”



“When were you planning on telling me?”



“Now,” he answered simply and that was just fine by her.



She kissed him again, shorter and sweeter this time, before getting to her feet and helping him up.



“Oh my God, Gerard,” she said, as they walked together, back to the venue. “This is really happening.”