First Kiss

Though the sun was shining brightly outside, Gerard was perfectly content to sit unaccompanied in the cool darkness that existed within the confines of his band’s tour bus. As it was summer, it was to be expected that he would rather stay out of the sun and therefore avoid burning or tanning his skin—at least, that was Gerard’s reasoning about it. His fellow band mates had rolled their eyes when he declined their offer to join them in the game of ‘tag’ that several of the bands had started up outside, and the mutter of, “Freakin’ vampire...” had been taken up by more than one pair of lips as they then exited the bus, leaving him alone.

Gerard only had a small chuckle to offer in response to that, as although he had always tried to keep the element of vampires and overall darkness in the music, or in his drawings, he had never before had to endure the call of “Vampire!” from his friends and fellow musicians. Still, he didn’t mind it much; he was now being given some free time to draw, at least, which was an opportunity that he gratefully took. Projekt Revolution had been, of course, taking up the most of his time, and he couldn’t remember the last occasion he was able to sit down and draw to his heart’s content.

But this drawing…it was somehow different from any of the others he had done before. He’d known this since the image had first managed to invade his already besotted mind, and he’d pressed the tip of the pencil to the richly textured paper. His knees were bent, offering a support for the small sketchbook that rested upon them, so Gerard could see his drawing better and still be comfortable; he preferred sitting this way, rather than staying hunched over at the table.

His feet were on the couch itself, and while he knew Brian hated it when he did that, especially when he was wearing his shoes like he was now, he still did it, even if it was only to annoy his manager even more than usual. A dark red pillow rested behind his back, supporting him, but the couch was already comfortable enough without it. The couch itself was completely worn out—there were holes in the soft material that had been stitched over and over again, yet which kept ripping open just as quickly as they were mended in the first place. This was mostly because of Frank, who was rather fond of jumping up and down on the couch when under the influence of sugar.

This particular couch told a story. There were fake bloodstains permanently tainted upon the fabric, and the smell of cigarettes had sunk in the cloth, giving a comforting feeling to the band, since the couch was something they took care in lugging on and off every bus that they traveled within. The old couch had been with them since the beginning, and as long as it was still in a good condition, it would stay on their bus. Of course, even if it was beyond repair it would still stay on their bus, but that was beyond the point right now. The couch was of a constant source of frustration for Brian, who despised the thing and didn’t see the point in installing it in every tour bus they used; he just didn’t understand that it was the sentimental value that counted. When the band wasn’t on tour—a rarity, these days—it usually lived in storage.

Gerard smiled to himself, adding another line to the drawing. At the moment it was nothing but a sketch, the lines not yet fully formed and the features of the person portrayed in it not quite filled in, but it was already somewhat obvious how it would end up. Some darker lines and lighter lines added her or there…his pencil flew over the paper swiftly, and it was like Gerard had lost control of his hands, as though they were controlling what was being wrought upon the paper and he was being given no say in it.

H paused, rubbing his tired eyes as he placed the pencil down for only a small moment. He’d been immersed in the same drawing for the last half-hour or so, and needed a break. His mind wandered to the bright, sun-lit parking lot outside as a piercing shriek met his ears, where his fellow band mates were currently located. He was confused for only a moment before he realized that everyone was probably still playing ‘tag,’ as he knew that some people on the tour liked to be a bit loud and dramatic about things. From the sound of the highest-pitches shrieks of terror, he was going to guess that Jimmy Urine was the one being chased.

The tradition of playing ‘tag’ was something Frank had started with Bob. However, Bob was annoyed and wouldn’t immediately join in, prompting Frank to begin running around the venue (they were in Arizona at the time) and begin tagging random people from other bands, who in the end ended up joining forces and teaming up in their childish chase for Frank. Now, they played it whenever they could get the chance. They were in Atlanta, Georgia, right now and had a rare free day, and so most of the people involved in the game had been playing for the last couple of hours or so, since they didn’t have any sets to worry about for the day.

Gerard yawned a little, wondering if there was any coffee still left in the pot over the oven, though he was way too comfortable on the couch to actually stand up and look. His fingers picked up the pencil again, thickening some of the lines around the eyes of the person he was drawing. He heard someone come on the bus, and whoever it was decided to leave the door open instead of closing it behind him. Annoyed, Gerard looked up from the sketch and saw Frank's head hovering just in front of him, smiling and panting at the same time; his cheeks were red and his forehead was damp from the sweat, all caused by the constant running away from the other band members.

"Are you sure you don't want to come out and play with us?" Frank asked hopefully, actually thinking that Gerard might give in to the puppy-dog eyes and come with him outside. Gerard shot Frank a small, apologetic smile, shaking his head in response. Frank crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted.

"And I thought you loved me," he muttered under his breath. Gerard chuckled slightly, a sound that was swiftly cut off as Jimmy Urine's voice arose at the entrance of the bus.

“Iero! Get your cute ass out here and run away from me like a man!”

Frank cast Gerard a big, hyper grin before he ran off the bus. Judging from the high-pitched squeals and giggles of delight that immediately followed, he’d managed to evade Jimmy’s grasp and was now running away from him. Gerard sighed and shook his head, almost unable to believe how childish a twenty-six-year old man could be when he was hopped up on sugar.

Since the doorway at the front of the bus remained open, Gerard could hear the voices of the band members more clearly than before, only resulting in Gerard groaning a little and grabbing his iPod out of his back pocket, where it always was except when he was on stage, or sleeping. He placed the pencil down for a moment so he could better place the earbuds into his ears. However, his eyes noticed the sign of "low battery" in the corner of the small screen almost instantly, resulting in Gerard’s subsequent sigh and pout.

He decided to just turn it off and to go to the bunk area to search for the charger, instead of forcing it to keep playing music until it shut off on its own accord. Carefully, he placed his sketchbook aside, closing it gently but leaving it on the couch. No one else was on the tour bus; it was unlikely anyone would disturb it or—god forbid—sit on it.

Standing up, Gerard yawned and stretched, causing his t-shirt to reveal a small part of his stomach as he stretched his arms, attempting to rid them of the kinks that had formed in his joints. Tiredly, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, his other being occupied with holding the dying iPod. It was with a tired sigh that he walked back to the bunk area; a relatively smaller part of the bus, but it was where they spent the most time when they were on the road, whether it was in their own bunk or one another’s, no matter how uncomfortable it might seem to other people. They slept in each other's bunks every once in a while (Frank, especially, liked to sleep in Gerard’s bunk, on the pretext that he ‘got lonely’ at night without his fiancée there with him), and they didn't listen to the protests of their manager or driver when they told them not to do it.

Looking for his suitcase and muttering some dark words under his breath as he stalked to the back of the bus—where they had their own miniature recording accommodations, even though they used it more for their luggage when traveling—he didn't hear the commotion happening in the other end of the vehicle.

Lyn-Z had entered the bus. Well, technically she had pushed past Mikey and Frank to get through the door, the latter of which who told her to then go find Gerard, "And make him stop drawing pink tour busses!” Lyn-Z really had no idea what the short, wily man was talking about, but since he closed the door behind her she could only sigh and smile a little as she walked further in the bus, glancing about the living area in moderate interest.

The first thing she noticed was how messy it was. Clearly, Ray hadn't been joking when he told her they lived like pigs, sometimes. Empty water bottles, candy wrappers, popcorn bags, and clothing were strewn across the floor and on the couch, empty coffee cups and a pile of t-shirts thrown together atop the table next to the small, built-in refrigerator. Lyn-Z briefly wondered who all of the shirts belonged to, but her eyes next fell upon the sketchbook. Looking around once again and not seeing anyone else in the front of the bus, curiosity got the best of her and she picked it up with her pale, slender hands, slightly calloused by years of bass-playing.

It was a worn out sketchbook with a bent, brown-colored cover. Actually, it reminded her of a used old roadmap, she reasoned, since there were some loose papers sticking out and there was small, black band of elastic used to close it and keep it closed; otherwise it would never close properly. Being an artist herself, her inquisitiveness took over as she carefully slipped the band over the top of the book and cautiously opened it.

Vampires, werewolves, The Umbrella Academy, some loose sketches, and aliens soon met her eyes. Clearly Gerard had drawn it all, but the last sketch to be found in the book before the pages gave way to blankness drew her attention more than any other. It was softer, clearly not finished, but the detail and effort that had been put into it thus far still had a shocking effect on Lyn-Z, who instantly felt her breath catch in her throat.

Her eyes widened slightly when she realized how much the drawing looked like her. In a somewhat eerie, but beautiful way, it was like she was looking into a mirror. Lyn-Z certainly felt flattered by the fact that the female on the sketch resembled her; maybe it was her he was trying to draw…but somehow, she doubted it. She would likely never know, either, as she would never be able to come out and inquire about it to the artist. It would only seem rude to ask him if he was drawing her in secret. She smiled, letting her fingers trace along the lines of the drawing, but being careful enough not to smudge the thick pencil lines.

"Frank! I told you not to look at—" Having caught sight of someone standing in the living area with his sketchbook in hand, and instinctively assuming it was the one man who was constantly trying to steal said sketchbook in the first place, Gerard stormed to the front of the bus—though he stopped mid-sentence when he realized his error. Indeed, it wasn't Frank standing in front of him, but rather Lyn-Z, her eyes round and worried when she glanced up from his sketchbook. They simply stared at one another for a small number of seconds before Gerard, with a start, remembered that he still had his iPod (and now the charger) in his hands.

His face was beginning to grow a bit red, but he kept his eyes on her as he plugged in the charger and placed the iPod on the counter so it wouldn't hang loosely. Lyn-Z carefully closed the sketchbook again, holding it to her chest and slowly walking up to him. Gerard, for his part, had no idea what to do when she stopped right in front of him.

He swore he could feel his heart stop when he realized that she was only a few inches away from him, his sketchbook being the only thing separating them. To him, this whole thing felt like some overdone, cruddy romantic scene from a movie, and by the way they were staring at each other in silence, it might as well have been. However, Gerard found himself unable to care about this—the fact that she was standing so close to him, looking up at him with such beautiful brown eyes probably had something to do with it.

"Um…not to look at my…sketches..." Although it was a little late for it, he finished the sentence in a whisper, causing Lyn-Z to smile. Gerard attempted to mirror her expression, but the man found himself simply far too nervous; the most he could manage was a crooked sort of grin, his voice once again caught in his throat.

"I think Frank is a little louder than I am," she answered softly, still not breaking eye contact with him. “He would have started giggling like a maniac the second you caught him.” Gerard grinned and nodded, his eyes taking in every small inch of her beautiful face before his hand moved to it, only to place some of her black hair behind her ear when before, it had been hanging in her eyes. Suddenly self-conscious, she averted her eyes down at the floor, though the small smile was still playing along the edges of her lipstick-clad red lips, which by now were starting to match the rising blush making its way to her cheeks. Gerard's hand stayed upon the side of her face, caressing it with his thumb as he softly forced her to look at him.

"You're more beautiful than Frank."

He smiled before he carefully pressed his lips against hers, moving his hand towards her neck while his other arm circled around her waist to pull her closer to his body. Lyn-Z's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but it wasn’t long before she gave in, wrapping her own arms around his neck and kissing him back with as much vigor as she deemed appropriate for the time being.

The sketchbook, which Gerard still hadn't taken from her hands, fell on the floor, though luckily it landed with the back cover against the carpeting, keeping the drawings together and undamaged. That was probably for the best, as Gerard had the tendency to become rather attached to his artwork and wouldn’t have wanted to see even one drawing be damaged.

"Next time...don't look into my sketchbook, no matter how curious you are," Gerard whispered, being the one who finally pulled his lips away. Still, he remained keeping an arm around Lyn-Z's waist, holding her close to his own body while his other arm joined it, enjoying the feeling of having her completely wrapped up in his arms.

Lyn-Z couldn’t help the giggle that somehow managed to escape from between the confines of her lips, though it annoyed her, such a feminine and girly reaction. Discomfited, she averted her eyes—though only one a small moment, her arms still wrapped around his neck before she was able to look him straight-on once more, a tiny smirk finding a place on her lips where before a broad smile had resided.

"Or what?" she asked, a note of playful mockery not entirely lost in a tone that was otherwise made of tremoring, yet immensely happy notes. An eyebrow cocked in amusement, Gerard regarded the woman, his mind working furiously to find a worthwhile answer to her question. Of course, there was only one that he thought would do the trick.

"Or else…I'll just have to do this," he whispered, deciding then and there that this was the best moment to kiss her again—a gesture that Lyn-Z happily returned.