The Look Alike

*Zane’s POV*

God, I feel like a fuck up. Just when you think you’ve done something good…it turns out that the plan was more along the lines of a disaster. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell me Gerard was royally pissed—which is weird because he’s the one who started the whole “ferard” thing. Sighing heavily, I mentally accept the fact that trying to understand Gerard’s fickle ways was useless. I was just going to go and apologize until he either got sick of my face or forgave me. Scuffing my feet, I tilted my head towards Jared—who, might I add, was still very crimson—and gave him a small smile. What better way to say, “Hey, thanks for trying!” Oddly, he turned a darker shade of red; mumbling a soft good-bye, he power walked off to his bus area. Hmm…strange.

I began my “long” walk towards the backstage area, the stage hands were busy streaming in and out of the mix of wires, amps, and gear. The faint sound of equipment being tested screeched by my ear, alerting me to the small amount of time I had to literally grovel at Gerard’s feet. I started running, or since I have no athletic ability, speed trotting towards the stage front. My lungs were burning, but I gasped sweet air when I saw Gerard standing next to the opening on the stage. He was adjusting his uniform, obviously miffed, and keeping a wary eye on the stage next to him. I gave a last ditch effort to jog up to him—I mean seriously, I’m out of shape! I thrust out my hand and spun him around, just praying he would listen.

*Gerard’s POV*

I felt a hand twirl me around, causing a moment of dizziness—yes, even I can get dizzy easy. It was Zane, the last person I expected to see panting and doubled over from exertion. Poor kid, he must’ve run all the way here…which if he’s anything like me, he probably just jogged. The stagehands were screaming that the band had to get on stage now, but Zane, refusing to be ignored, clenched his fingers onto my jacket.

“Gerard, I’m sorry…I was just trying to help. It was my fault, not Jared’s, I asked him to help get the reporters away from the fight. I—,” Zane rambled, jerking fiercely at my sleeve as stage hands tried to pry his fingers loose.

“Apology accepted! Look, I’m sorry for losing my cool and leaving. I mean, seriously, I’ve been through the ‘ferard’ thing, so why not a ‘Geeto’?” I smirked, loving the look of surprise on his face.

“So you’re not going to ‘diva’ bitch slap me?” Zane returned, a grin lighting up his face.

“Psh, I just did my nails, so hell no. Anyways, I think the stage hands are about to literally saw your arm off, so…leggo!” I stated with a smile, poking his white knuckled fingers.

“Oh…right, sorry! Go do your show and we’ll talk later?” Zane shouted over the rising cheers from the crowd.

“Definitely! See you later!” I yelled before dashing on stage with the rest of my band.

*Zane’s POV*

I leaned back onto a speaker, breathing a sigh of relief. I just hated confrontational situations and was glad Gerard accepted my apology. Though, I didn’t expect him to apologize either! The guitars jumped into the first song and Gerard began to do his prancing walk. It seemed, for once, that this night would be without trouble. Unfortunately, I fear I jinxed it. Why? Well, as I was leaning against the giant speaker I noticed a figure on the other side of the stage. They were coming closer and closer to the stage front; it took a moment to recognize who it was charging down the narrow backstage alley.

It was my mom on a bee-line for Gerard…