Collision

I’m not sure what time everyone fell asleep, but eventually we all did. The three members of Hello, Irony had gone several hours back, and I’d decided that I was too comfortable cuddled up to Alex on the couch to move — so whilst Finley left, Alex and I stayed there.

In the morning I severely regretted this decision, especially since my back was killing me from the position I’d curled up into — I had one arm slung over Gerard, who apparently hadn’t gone back to his bunk either, my legs folded up between us and my head in my sister’s lap. I suppose, in my still ever-so-slightly tipsy state, I had thought of it as a good position, but my body most certainly did not agree and seemed to have decided to make sure every part of me hurt in return.

What had woken me up, however, was hurting my head, even more than any of my body was hurting. A loud ringing, right near my ear. I blinked blearily in an attempt to wake myself up slightly more, reaching out a hand and grasping blindly for the obnoxious noise-maker. When my hand closed around something plastic I realized it was a phone, and hit the answer button and held it up to my ear.

“Gerard?” A slightly accented voice said, sweetly.

I frowned, confused. “Er... this is not — ” I broke off, pulling away the phone from my ear and looking at it. My eyes widened. “Oh, shit... This is not my phone. Cool.” I swallowed nervously and returned the phone to my ear. “I’m sorry, er, I’ll get Gerard,” I said, sitting up properly and putting a hand on Gerard’s shoulder to wake him up.

“Wait, who is this?”

I wasn’t sure how to reply, but I felt rude staying silent. “Um. It’s a friend of Gerard’s,” I said weakly. As soon as Gerard stirred I shoved the phone at him. He gave me a slightly mystified look and took it, putting it to his ear.

Immediately his expression cleared and he grinned. “Vanessa!” He exclaimed, straightening up. Oh shit. The girlfriend? That was worse than I thought. He was listening intently to the phone now, paying me no attention, and I saw his grin fade away and, in it’s place, small frown appear between his eyes. “What? No... that — hold on, do you mean Cameron? Nessa...” He got to his feet suddenly, and walked off towards the back of the bus, still clutching the phone to his ear.

I got up quickly myself, making sure not to wake Alex, and decided to try to find something to distract me and stop myself from focusing on the fact I’d probably just got Gerard into big trouble. No girlfriend liked another girl answering their boyfriend’s phone, especially when they were currently in a different country on tour. And I did not want to be the blame for a fight, or anything along that line, even if... no, I wasn’t going to think about that. I had standards. And I most certainly wasn’t a home-wrecker.

I looked around the room, noticing just how messy it was thanks to everyone’s snacking, and grinned. Perfect, I thought, running around and grabbing things. Tidying up would be a good distraction.

On my third trip to the kitchenette and the bin with things to throw away, I almost bumped into a sleepy-looking Frank, currently in mid-yawn with his arms stretched out and his eyes closed. “Hi,” I said, pausing and trying not to linger on the fact he was only in boxers. I guess that was normal, but it still felt awkward. At my words he started, his eyes snapping open. He looked at me blankly for a few seconds, and then, slowly, he seemed to remember that I’d stayed over — or at least he seemed to have worked out I wasn’t here to kill him — because he smiled back.

“Oh. Hi. You’re up kind of early.”

I looked down at my watch. “Er... it’s ten. That’s not early.”

“Uh, yeah, it is. At least for normal humans,” he replied. I noticed him looking around the room, until his eyes landed on the pot of coffee I’d already made. He grinned and walked over to pour himself a cup. “I knew something smelled nice.”

I smiled at his eagerness, taking the arm full of empty packets and cans I had and dumping them in the bin, then straightening up and brushing my hands together. “That’s the lounge done,” I said, pleased. “You know what I found down the side of the seats? A half-eaten, stale donut. Seriously. Was that some kind of science experiment? You guys are pigs.”

He shrugged, appearing unaffected by the insult. I didn’t expect him to take it too seriously — I was actually quite impressed by the fact they’d been in this bus for less than a few days and already managed to make such a mess. That took some doing. “You know, you don’t have to clean up after us,” he said after a pause, putting two hands on the top of the counter and pushing himself up just far enough so he could sit on it. “Even if you contract says you do. Which is still hilarious, by the way.”

“Eh, I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” I said, and I was about to add something else about how my contract wasn’t funny when I heard a loud groan from somewhere else in the bus and raised an eyebrow. “What was — ” I began, as Frank grinned and leapt off the counter he’d only just sat down on.

“Mikey’s up!” He said happily, running to the stairs and up. I blinked a few times, not sure how to react to this, and then, hesitatingly, I followed the black-haired guitarist up the stairs too. The site which greeted me at the top made me stop and stare before bursting into laughter: Mikey on the floor with Frank hugging him tightly, in a position I could only describe as comprising at best, for the both of them — especially since Frank was still half-dressed.

“Um. You guys...” I began, not sure what to say. I gathered Frank must have jumped on the taller, skinnier guy, although I wasn’t even sure of that — but the expression of shock and annoyance on the bass guitarist’s face and the fact he was trying to struggle away kind of confirmed that thought.

Frank let go of his grip on Mikey just long enough to look at me. “This is what it looks like,” he said, grinning, as Mikey finally managed to forcibly shove him up and off of him, then pulled himself to his feet with help from the bunk nearby.

“Dammit Frank, do you have to pounce on me every morning?” He asked, once he was back on his feet. He shot the guitarist a glare which could be considered almost homicidal in nature. Certainly, if looks could kill, Frank would have been six feet under several times over, and probably in a rather gruesome fashion, too.

“It’s tradition on tour, string-bean,” Frank replied matter-of-factly, apparently uncaring to the murderous look the bass guitarist was giving him. “Where’s your brother? I gotta do him too!”

I snorted at this, and Frank seemed to realize his choice of words probably wasn’t the best, but instead of looking embarrassed his grin grew. I suppose he liked the fact he’d made an accidental double entendre.

“I don’t know where my brother is,” Mikey replied shortly, adjusting his t-shirt and sweatpants back into some semblance of order. “Why don’t you fuck off and find him?”

“Good idea!” Frank’s eyes lit up, and within seconds he was gone again, pushing past me and leaping down the stairs three at time. I was left standing there, awkwardly, not sure what I was meant to do now. Mikey looked at me for a few seconds, then silently turned and walked off towards what I assumed was the bathroom.

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered under my breath, as I decided to go check up on Alex and wake her up. I knew that I would have to get to work soon, and do my part helping pack up before the whole tour moved onto the next city, but I wasn’t sure what the plan for the bands was. When I got downstairs I found my sister was still on the sofa, apparently still asleep (although she’d stretched out into the extra space that both Gerard and I moving had created.) I leaned over her, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up, Alex.”

She made a noise which sounded slightly like a mumbled swear word crossed with ’nrgh’, then, after a few more seconds of my gentle prodding, opened her eyes and squinted up at me. “Whaddya want, bitch?” She asked grumpily.

“It’s morning. You have to get up.”

She groaned quietly. “No I don’t. Go away,” she replied, twisted around so she was face-down in the couch and burying her face under a few of the pillows. My mouth twisted in an amused smile, especially when, with my next poke, she raised a hand and flipped me off in a rather lacklustre way.

“Yes you do, Alex. I’m not leaving you here.” Apparently my words did nothing though, because she didn’t move. I frowned. “Get the fuck up, now,” I snapped, more sternly, and she finally raised her head.

“Why?” She asked, drawing it out into a whine.

“Because if you don’t I’m gonna throw ice cold water over you. I saw a tap outside a few feet away so don’t think I’m kidding.”

My threat did the trick, finally, because she scrambled to sit up after much grumbling, then to her feet. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched, showing off just how skinny she was when her shirt and the red vest underneath rode up. I narrowed my eyes at this, and she grinned, obviously aware of what had caused the glare. Then she glanced down at her clothes, the same ones she’d been wearing at the party last night, and grimaced. “I'm gonna go get changed,” she said. “You gonna stay here?”

I shook my head. “No, I need to find Chantel,” I said. “Hopefully she can help me out by telling me what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Fair enough. Come on.” She took hold of my elbow, and after glancing around to make sure she hadn’t lost anything, she dragged me out of the bus with her. I struggled away, pausing to zip up my hoodie, then ran to catch up with her long-strides. Half-way to her bus Mallory sauntered up to us both, nodded at Alex, then asked to speak to me.

“Cam, you’re helping out with the equipment today. And you’re with... Alicia and Wright, I think,” he said as soon as I’d said goodbye to Alex, consulting a piece of paper he had in his hands. He smiled slightly. “You’ll like them, they’re nice. They should be over at the main stage.”

I nodded, then headed back to my bus. Elliot promptly pounced on me as soon as I knocked on the door, pulling me, rather fiercely, into a hug. “Where have you been? Did you have fun?” He asked excitedly, pulling away to grin at me whilst still holding onto my arms.

“Um... yeah?” I replied. I wasn’t exactly sure how to react to the enthusiastic greeting, and settled for an awkward smile, then pulling away and walking past him into the bus. “It was cool,” I added, as I headed over to the stairs. I paused just as a I put a foot on the first one, looking back at him. “What are you doing today?”

“Not sure. Probably some merchandise.”

“Oh, the joy.” I smiled at him, then bounded up the stairs to my bunk. It was all perfectly made up because I hadn’t actually spent a night there yet, although I had grabbed a few hours of sleep during the day and slept on the seats downstairs. It was weird thinking I’d already been here for three days; it certainly didn’t feel like it. I grabbed my suitcase, which had been shoved at the end of the bunk, pulled it over and dug out a simple jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt outfit to wear. As I was gathering up the rest of my clothes I heard somebody climbing the stairs, and looked up to see a grinning Yasmine.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what just happened,” she said, bounding over with her normal amount of enthusiasm. I noticed today her eyes were an eerie yellow, which was even more off-putting than the violet, as I straightened up, still gripping some clothes in my hands.

“Um... you found out you were adopted and you’re actually Wolfman’s daughter? Do I have to break out the silver stake I keep in my bag?” I replied, motioning at her new eyes with a grin to match hers.

“Very funny. No, Klaus asked me to move in with him.”

“What? Really?” I don’t think I could have kept the shock from my voice even if I tried, and Yasmine’s grin widened. “That’s great! You guys make a cute couple!”

“Aww, thanks. And yeah, for when this tour’s over. He gave me a key to his flat. We both already live in New York, so it’s not that huge of a move, but it’s still pretty awesome, right?”

“Of course!” I said, pulling her into a quick hug. I didn’t know her that well, but it still felt like something you should hug someone about. But then again, I was Miss. Socially Awkward, so what did I know? Yasmine returned the friendly gesture though, hugging me tightly in return and pulling away with a beam on her face.

“I have to go down to main stage, you?”

“Same. We can walk down together. Just let me get changed.” I nodded at the mess on my bed, then picked up the outfit I’d chosen and walked into the bathroom — it was the only place there was enough privacy to change. I wasn’t used to how close everyone was living on this tour, but it was easy enough to adapt to. I’d gotten a few tips from Chantel (including, when she’d stolen one of my hoodies to wear and I’d complained, never leave your clothing within grasp of a bus-mate.) I was excited, honestly, about the new experiences — and it didn’t hurt that everyone had been super nice so far. Well, mostly. There was one notable exception, but I knew that Mikey was just being... brotherly, I suppose. Didn’t stop me feeling annoyed over it.

When I’d changed, put on some simple make-up, and pulled a brush through my hair, I met Yasmine waiting downstairs, and together we walked through the field to the main stage. It was the biggest stage, obviously, although already crew members had been at work helping take it down, and it was looking quite skeleton-like without the curtains and banners, with band and sponsor’s names on them, which had been decorating it over the past few days.

Yasmine knew who Wright was, and informed me that the Alicia I’d be working with would be the one and only Alicia Way.

“Wait, I thought she was just a guest?” I asked, confused. “Because of Mikey?”

“Everyone pulls their weight on this tour, sweetie. I’m still a merch bitch, even though I’m only really here because of Klaus.”

Yasmine pointed me in the right direction, then disappeared herself. I found Alicia standing beside a taller, scruffy bearded guy with long blonde hair, who had decided to brave the elements in a short-sleeved shirt, ripped jeans and flipflops. He must be insane, I thought, when I saw his outfit. And then I noticed what Alicia was wearing herself. The military-looking black jacket she had on, over a white shirt and skinny black jeans, seemed familiar, and it was after a few moments thought I realized why. “Is that an original?” I asked, curious, pointing at the Black Parade jacket.

She laughed. “No, it’s a copy. Mikey’s too protective of his to share. I did steal Frank’s once thought, but he’s a bit too short.” I grinned. I don’t know why, but the face she pulled when she shared this information amused me greatly. “So, Cameron, right?” She asked, and when I nodded her mouth widened into a grin too. “Cool, this is Evan Wright,” she said, motioning at the guy beside her. “He’ll be sitting on his lazy ass and watching us do all the work.”

“What can I say, I guess I’m just not as hard-working or easy-to-boss-around as you, Lesha,” Wright replied, looking pretty relaxed already and leaning against a metal pole which was part of the structure of the stage. “And whilst we’re talking about sitting on asses, what were you doing the last time we were apparently working together?”

Alicia flipped him off breezily, not even looking in his direction, but instead at me. “I broke my ankle, you dick,” she said, then pausing and looking around before pointing at a stack of boxes. They were thrown together in a rather jumbled fashion, and the ones on top looked quite precariously balanced. “Alright, so, we’ve got to move that lot, to the black truck over there,” she said, directing her words at me and motioning to a truck and open trailer nearby. “Shall we get to work?”

I nodded readily, walking with Alicia over to the stack and grabbing the nearest one to me. I wasn’t expecting how heavy it was though, and I almost dropped it on my toes, surprised. “Fuck,” I exclaimed. Alicia laughed at me, shaking her head.

“A bit heavy?” She teased, choosing her box with a lot more care — I noticed she picked the smallest one. “At least it’ll build up our muscles, Cam,” she added, flexing her skinny, jacket-clad arms before lifting up the box, and nodding sagely as she did so.

“Or make me dislocate my shoulder. Either one.”

I did manage to move the box, after a bit of huffing and puffing, and after that I made Wright take the heavier ones and stuck to moving the smaller ones with Alicia. It wasn’t hard work, if boring, but I found entertainment in talking to both of them. An hour or two into our morning work, Alicia produced her phone from her pocket, set it up on the boxes nearby and started blasting music at it’s top volume — whilst it was quite tinny but the music selection was hilarious.

“Is that the Macarena?” I asked, and she stopped and tilted her head to the side, then nodded eagerly.

“It is! Come on, Cam, dance with me!” She grabbed hold of my hands, which were currently empty since I’d just set down my latest box, and started twirling around. I tried not to trip over my own feet with her enthusiastic manoeuvres, and managed... just about.

“That’s not the right moves,” Wright said, putting down his own box and watching us with an amused expression.

“Oh really? And you’re the expert, are you Evan?” Alicia shot back, stopping and turning to look at him with her hands on her hips.

“Well, I don’t like to blow my own trumpet–”

“Lies,” Alicia interrupted.

Evan didn’t miss a beat, ignoring Alicia completely. “–but yeah, I am. This is how it goes.”

I watched, giggling, as he demonstrated a dance quickly, and then I joined in. Alicia took a few more minutes to do so, but did, and so the three of us ended up at completely different tempos to each other, all doing our own little version as the song came to a close.

It was only when I heard the clapping behind us that I noticed we had an audience, albeit a small one — Gerard, smirking, and clapping, and Bob. Both looked like they’d only just woke up, standing beside each other and clad in identical palettes of black and grey. Gerard had sunglasses perched on the top of his head redundantly, something which annoyed me weirdly — nevermind the fact that the lack of sunshine made sunglasses useless anyway. I did notice happily that he didn’t seem too angry or upset, judging from his general demeanour, so I guessed that he’d managed to explain what had happened that morning to Vanessa. Or at least I hoped so, because otherwise this would be seriously awkward.

“Enjoy the show?” Alicia asked with a wink, not put out in the slightest by the fact we’d been watched. She reached over and switched off her phone, then returned to work — or, at least, she waltzed towards the boxes, again, and I assumed she was going to, but then she stopped and hopped up to sit on one of the larger, sturdier ones, placing her hands behind her and leaning back casually. Apparently she’d decided to take a break, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. I was already tired out.

Gerard gave his sister-in-law a slightly bemused look, then nodded. The bruise to the side of his face had already faded slightly, I noticed. Thank god for that. I doubted Brian would be happy if he noticed. “Very much so. My brother is very lucky to have married such a mature, hard-working individual!”

“Please. You know you’re jealous.” Alicia stretched her arms out, still grinning, and I cringed slightly when her shoulders made a cracking noise, and she sighed. “Ah, I hate this. Fucking hard work.”

“Oh yeah. Tell me about it,” I added, stretching my own sore muscles. I really wasn’t made for manual labour, I thought sourly, and I was especially annoyed about the fact that my normal cure for soreness — a long, hot bath — would be impossible here. Wright added his own mumbled complaint too, but then he was already walking over to talk to Bob, apparently already familiar with the drummer.

“What a cheerful bunch you are,” Gerard said to us. “You should try a nice cup of coffee, it’s a great mood booster.” He lifted up the Styrofoam cup he had in his hands, which I’d only just noticed, then tilted it to his lips and took a sip.

“Oh, so that’s why you’re alive at the early time of... what, twelve thirty? Amazing, Gee, amazing.” The sarcasm was quite evident in Alicia’s voice, but she said it all with a friendly smile. I’d realized quite quickly that this was her default tone — it was quite funny how sarcastic she was to everyone, although I had a feeling it would piss people off easily too. Luckily, I was desensitised to sarcasm, thanks to years of a bitchy teenage Alex, and it was more amusing than annoying for me.

“What can I say? It’s a miracle-worker.” Gerard replied dryly, apparently quite used to it himself.

“Yeah, yeah, Gee. You fancy moving that cute little behind of yours and helping out? Or are you just gonna stand there uselessly all day?” Alicia asked, hopping down from her seat on the boxes. When Gerard opened his mouth to response she glared. “No, that wasn’t really a choice. Get working.”

I muffled my giggles at the dumbfounded expression on his face with my hand, pressing it to my mouth. After a few seconds of standing there, Alicia still looking at him with one hand on a hip, he sighed and put his drink down.

“Fine,” he said, reluctantly, as if resigned to a horrible fate. “But only if you do another macarena dance. That shit’s funny as hell.”

~*~

Somewhere after lunch had come and gone — and Alicia, Wright and I had all wandered done to catering, grabbed something to eat, spent about half an hour just joking around with Chantel and another of her crew friends, Jasek — I found myself alone. Everyone else seemed to have a place to be, or something to do, and I was wandering listlessly between the buzzing crowds and trying to look like I had a place. It was quite a weird experience, just watching everyone, and I realized just how much this tour relied on everyone doing their little bit. Like a machine; one person messing up could bring it all grinding to a halt.

I was bored enough I even returned to my bunk and grabbed my little digital camera, a trusty little thing I’d had for several years which had been all-pink at first but now had several silvery patches where the colour had rubbed away. I took the chance of free time to wander around and take pictures of anything interesting, which was pretty much everything for someone as unused to this situation as myself. I half-thought I could use them for the blog posts I was meant to be doing, but I was more focused on entertaining myself than anything — the great thing about a digital camera is that you could take pictures of everything, and anything, and not worry about the amount of film it was using. So I did.

I sprung upon Klaus and Yasmine, standing together talking quietly, waving my camera and grinning, and the two of them obligingly posed for a few pictures. Then Yasmine grabbed the camera out of my hand, and shoved me towards Klaus. He wrapped a hand around my shoulders and stopped me from running away when I realized that Yasmine was raising the camera to take a picture.

“I don’t like my picture being taken!” I complained, as the bright flash went off, and Yasmine, grinning triumphantly, handed the little device back to me. I checked out the picture, surprised to find it hadn’t turned out too bad — even if I looked quite awkward, and my mouth was slightly open as I was about to speak. Klaus chuckled.

“Shouldn’t let Yasmine take your camera, then,” he yelled after me as I huffed and walked off.

I found myself gravitating back towards the buses, and I was just about to turn in another direction and find something else to entertain myself when I noticed something which made me raise my eyebrows in surprise — legs, clad in dark jeans and with battered Adidas sneakers, dangling over the edge of a bus’s roof and resting against the side. I tilted my head up and caught site of Gerard sitting up there, a pad in his lap and a pencil against his mouth. He apparently didn’t notice me standing on the ground, staring up at him on the bus roof, because he jumped when I spoke.

“What the hell?” I said, tilting my head slightly to the side.

He squinted down at me, and then a grin spread across his mouth and he waved. “Hey there Cam!” He said cheerfully, putting his pad to the side.

“Why... why are you on the roof?” I asked, curiously, wondering if this was a normal thing to do — I certainly hadn’t noticed any other people sitting on bus roofs casually like he was.

“I wanted somewhere to sit in peace,” he explained with a shrug, then motioned to his discarded pad. “And I was working on something. Wanna join me?”

“Um, I guess... although, if you want peace...”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. There’s a way up here through the upstairs of the bus — the bus door’s already open,” he said, whilst indicating behind him vaguely. I hesitated, not sure whether to take him up on his offer, but after a few moments thought — what did I have to lose after all? - I nodded in agreement, then walked around to the side of the bus with the door, which was indeed open.

A few minutes later, after a bit of struggling, I managed to pull myself up through the small opening I’d found at the very back of the bus’s second floor. I was surprised to find the bus completely empty, although I was secretly quite pleased there was nobody but Gerard there to witness my complete failure at getting up onto the roof... at least with some of my dignity intact. When I finally got through and fell, out of breath, against the cool metal roof, he reached over and grabbed my hand; helping me keep my balance and not slip off the slightly slanted sides of the bus as I shuffled over to the side cautiously and sat down next to him.

“Woah, that was actually pretty hard,” I admitted, trying to find a way to sit where I didn’t feel like I was about to slide off the side and trying to ignore the height I was sitting at as well. The fact it was the side of a two-storey bus I was now dangling my legs over really didn’t help my nervousness. “Damn you and your dares.”

“I didn’t dare you,” he said, smiling with amusement. I noticed he had a grip on his notepad, but it was shut now and I couldn’t see what he’d been so involved with earlier.

“You might as well. I can never turn down a challenge, especially one like climbing onto the roof of a tour bus.” I smiled back at him though, betraying my annoyance as entirely fake, and finally settled for sitting in a slightly diagonal position, with my hand behind me to support my weight. “So, why are you really on the roof of your tour bus? I mean, it’s pretty... weird.”

“Like I said, privacy. That, and I think Frank and Finley are after me. I found a note under my pillow earlier.” He chuckled, and dug a hand into the pocket of his jacket, then pulled out a crumpled scrap of lined paper and handed it to me.

“You better watch out, we’re going to get you. Lots of love, F and F,” I read off the paper after unfolding it. I giggled, especially at the little ’xoxo’ after their names — trust them to add hugs and kisses to a threatening note. “Well, that sounds ominous. I’d suggest you look out for rigged doorways or something, that’s Fin’s favourite prank.”

“Glad to know I’ve got insider information. I didn’t think they were being serious.”

“Sorry to say, but Fin’s always serious when he declares war. And them two together is not going to end well for anyone. Trust me, I’ve been there, done that, got the custard-covered shirt to prove it.”

“Hmm... well, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to put jello in Frank’s shoes, then.” Gerard’s smile stretched into a brilliant grin, and my rolled my eyes.

“Oh dear god, you didn’t?” It was more of a statement than a question, though, but he chuckle in response was more than enough of an answer. “And you call them immature.”

“I’m allowed to act immaturely,” he said in defence. “I mean, I spend most of my time with Frank, he’s bound to rub off on me a bit, right?” He laughed then, and I quickly realized why.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Gee... I really don’t want to hear anything about you two rubbing off on each other.”

“But — ”

“No buts,” I interrupted, and he fell silent. I decided to change the subject to avoid the awkward turn of conversation. “So what have you been working on?” I asked, hopefully, trying not to look to pointedly at the pad on the other side of him. I wasn’t going to force him to show me, but I had to admit my curiosity had been spiked. Luckily, he seemed quite willing, and picked up the hard-backed pad and flipped through a few drawing and word covered pages, before stopping on one.

“Mostly this,” he answered, pointing at a drawing. I looked at it carefully, unsure of what to think — it wasn’t the most technical or detailed drawing I’d ever seen, but there was something about it which actually impressed me. I’d heard Gerard loved drawing before, at least from Alex, but I’d never actually thought about it. The sketch — because that’s what it was, judging from the rough lines and lack of colour — was of two people, a girl and a boy, all with angular features; the style reminded me of an album cover I’d seen way back in Alex’s room, but that had been portrait and this drawing was full-body. The boy was on one knee, his body angled towards a girl with her back turned and her arms crossed, but his head hung low, dejected.

“Oh... he’s proposing?” I guessed, slightly confused. “And she’s rejecting him?”

Gerard smiled, his eyes crinkling up slightly. “Sort of. It’s kind of... depressing, right? But I like it.”

I nodded, as if understanding, but I didn’t really. I knew that I liked it though, trailing my fingertips softly over the paper but making sure not to smudge the pencil lines. “Well it’s very nice,” I said. “Even if it’s depressing, as you put it.” He seemed pleased at my response, but didn’t say anything and shut the book again. He turned away, and his gaze was unfocused, sort of staring off across the tour grounds, but when I spoke he turned back to me, listening.

“So when do the buses pull out?” I asked.

“Um, ours leaves in like... a couple of hours? I think. And then the crew buses always leave soon after, except they have to finish clearing up and packing and all that.” He grinned, apparently taking amusement in the fact that I actually had to work, and I narrowed my eyes playfully. “But yeah, then we’ve got a show tomorrow night. Man, you gotta love tours. No breaks and lots of work... fun, right?”

“It’s been pretty cool so far,” I said defensively, picking up his obvious sarcasm. “I mean, nobody’s died yet.”

“Yet.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but I settled for an awkward giggle between amusement and bemusement. I realized I still had my camera strap hooked around my wrist when I absent-mindedly went to play with the charm bracelet there too, and grinned as I switched it on and turned to Gerard. He had his face turned away, so I tapped him on the shoulder — when he looked at me, I laughed, said ’say cheese!’ and quickly snapped a picture. His expression of surprise was priceless, especially the little ’o’ his mouth formed.

Then, when he’d recovered, he managed to wrestle the camera off me — mostly because I was too scared of falling off the roof to fight back — and then grinned wickedly. “My turn!” He said, pointing it at me. I threw an arm up in front of my face, and hid behind my sleeve, but when I peeked out to see if he’d given up he took the picture. I’m pretty sure the angry expression on my face was hilarious, especially since he burst into laughter.

“Damn you, Way!” I snapped, trying to take the little digital device off him. He didn’t let me, instead sliding an arm around my waist and holding the camera out in front of us both. I tried to hide again, but the awkward position I was in made it impossible, so I pulled a face as he took the picture. And then stuck my tongue out when he took another.

“Aw, don’t ruin every one of them,” he complained. I relented, then, because of the adorable pleading look he gave me, and smiled reluctantly as he took one last picture.

“I'm gonna have to photoshop that lovely bruise of yours,” I noted. “Unless I want to be attacked by your fans.”

“Aw hell no, this gives me badass points. I might keep drawing it on with eyeshadow.”

I took the camera back and hit the view option, peering at the pictures I’d taken throughout the day. I’d noticed the majority of my blog had been about MCR so far, so I’d made an effort to catch other bands out, too — several of the snaps included Alicia, Wright, Jasek and Chantel, all of which been helping me by pouncing on random band members when they spied them and making them pose. Which was the reason why I had a picture of Alicia jumping on Liza to get a piggyback ride with Chantel, behind, being hugged by Wright and hugging Taylor and Zacky in turn — and Jasek to the side, pulling on a blurry, moving Davey’s jacket in an attempt to keep him in the frame.

Gerard found this one particularly amusing, and made me promise to put it on the blog when I wrote my next post. I agreed, but I wondered what kind of comments it would generate.

After we’d run out of run things to do on the roof of a tour bus — including shouting at people walking below and watching their reactions — we climbed back down into the bus. Or at least tried to. I tripped when I jumped down, and fell flat on my face. When I heard a surprised yelp from beside me I scrambled to my feet, and came face to face with Frank on the bunk beside where I’d just fallen down.

With a girl.

And they were both missing several key pieces of clothing.

I turned bright red when I realized I’d definitely interrupted something, and then Gerard dropped down next to me, noticed the scene we’d stumbled upon, and started laughing. “Hey Jamia!” He said, waving at the mortified-looking girl now sitting up and clutching a blanket to her chest. “Nice to see you. Come on, Cam, let’s leave the happy couple in peace.”

I let Gerard grab my wrist and drag me downstairs — despite the fact that I would have happily followed him anyway — and tried to ignore the fact I probably wouldn’t be able to look Frank in the eye ever again. Gerard, on the other hand, seemed to be totally at ease with the fact he’d just accidentally stumbled upon one of his best friends and his girlfriend getting it on in the tour bus, but perhaps that was because of the fact he’d just spied a pile of brownies sitting, unguarded, on the table and launched himself at them energetically.

“I fucking love it when Jamia comes to visit,” he said, taking one and stuffing it in his mouth in a scarily eager way. You’d think he hadn’t eaten for several days, with the amount of vigour he attacked the treat. “She always brings cake. Or brownies. Or cookies!”

“Uhuh,” I said, taking a seat on the table and watching him. “So, er, Jamia... that’s Frank’s girlfriend?”

“Fiancée,” he corrected. “Sort of.”

“How can you sort of be a fiancée?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. He’s never really proposed officially, but everyone knows they’re gonna get married some day. They’ve been planning it for ages, but Frank’s always been one for a proper wedding, and we’ve never had time with the band and everything. That’s actually why Mikey and Alicia married backstage — although mom had a huge fucking fit over it.” He said this all through a mouthful of yet another brownie, licking his lips when he finished the last bite. “Mhm, this is good. Want one?”

I took one of the plate he offered me, even though it was right beside me, but broke off a small piece rather than stuffing the whole thing in my mouth like he had. Then, delicately, I nibbled on the edge. “It is good,” I said, nodding. “But probably as fattening as hell.”

“Eh, you could use a brownie or two,” he replied, shaking his head. “Everyone’s skinny here. Like, Mikey — have you seen his hips? I swear they’re dangerous weapons sometimes.”

“I’ve not made a habit of checking your brother out, so no, I haven’t seen his hips. But he does look like he’d have pointy ones. Same with Alex, Finley... Red, even. Kind of sucks. You tried cuddling somebody as skinny as Alex? You can’t! It’s uncomfortable as hell.”

He laughed. “Aww, Cam, you need a cuddlebuddy? You can always ask Frank. He tried to crawl into my bunk the first night here. Clingy bastard when he’s drunk...” he paused, and frowned slightly, “well... all the time, actually.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna speak to Frank again, thanks. I’m quite happy pretending that five minutes ago I didn’t stumble upon him half-naked.”

“Ah. Honestly, I think I’ve seen everyone in the band half-naked at least one point,” Gerard said. I sighed and chose not to comment on that, especially when he grinned and winked. “But hey, it’s part of touring. Liza is lucky, she gets to change in a separate room. Us guys? We just get shoved in a dressing room with our costumes.” He shuddered slightly, but I could tell it was in good humour.

When Chantel came looking for me to, as she put it, ’make sure I got my arse back on the bus before they left without me’, she found Gerard, Frank, Jamia and I watching The Texas Chain Saw Massacre — another great find from the DVD cabinet — and laughing. We’d found a common interest in our group with horror movies, particularly classics, and cracking jokes about most of the ’scary’ happenings.

“You guys are disturbed,” Chantel said, when I answered the door at her knocking, and she saw the gruesome scenes happening on the TV and everyone’s amused reactions. “Like, seriously disturbed.”

“Disturbingly awesome?” Frank asked hopefully, from the opposite end of the sofa to me. I’d still not managed to get over the whole incident earlier yet — Gerard had found it amusing when I’d shoved him in-between myself and the guitarist, teasing me relentlessly for about five minutes until he was distracted by the start of the movie.

Chantel gave him a long hard stare, then shook her head. “No. Just disturbed.” She turned to me, then pointed outside. “Come on slowpoke, get moving,” she said. “You have, like, five minutes. That’s it.”

I grumbled as I got to my feet, readjusting my hoodie so it wasn’t so skewed from being curled up on the sofa, then said goodbye to the other three as I followed Chantel outside, then to our own bus. I met the bus driver for the first time, a forty-something guy with black hair called Ethan, and then got roped into helping Yasmine do a check-list to make sure everyone and everything was in place. Finally, after everything was done, all the residents on-board found something to amuse themselves for the two hour long journey.

This being my first journey in the bus, I was stupid enough to assume I could read or something to pass the time. However, I soon found out that everyone else’s solution — going to sleep or watching movies on their phones — was the much better option, because the sound of the loud engine and vibrations made my attempts at scanning through a small, battered paper-back copy of ’Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About’ basically impossible. Eventually, I gave up, discarding the book with a sigh and getting to my feet, then walking through and joining Ethan up front to talk.

“So how long you been doing this?” I asked, curiously, after we’d spent a few minutes making polite small-talk. He grimaced, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Five years or so, give or take. And I’m still stuck doing the crew buses.” He shook his head, and then, noticing my raised eyebrow, smiled apologetically. “Not that the crew isn’t awesome, but the real money’s in bands, y’know? I got one gig, a year or so ago, and I didn’t make that money in the driving but I ended up making a couple of grand with the amount of merchandise they gave me in the end.” He reached over and turned the radio on. “Hope you don’t mind, but I can’t drive without some music.”

I shook my head, happy to listen to most kinds of music, but it was what came on which made me stop and frown. I recognized it — I should, since it was a song I’d been hearing for several years, but it felt weird to hear the sound of my sister’s voice come out of the speakers. I listened quietly to the first chords of Silence, and the soft, almost eerie, opening vocals, before Ethan noticed my interest and grinned.

“You know the song?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah I do. It’s my sister’s band. Susie Ain’t Your Friend. I... I’ve never heard them on the radio before.” I shrugged, not sure how to voice the weird feeling I was having, but he seemed to understand.

“Ahhh. I know what that feels like,” he said, nodding slowly. “My daughter, Evelyn, used to play bass in this in this band. They weren’t very big, but hearing them on the local radio station — that was freaky. Especially since they used to practice around my house all the time. Course, now she’s all into this music business thing. She’s a producer. Really cool stuff, but it goes right over my head.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like music runs in the family then.” I grinned. I liked Ethan. He just seemed to be the kind of down-to-earth guy you could quickly come to know and like. And he had great stories to share, including all the famous people he’d met — and the embarrassing events which had occurred, often, when he did. We spent the whole journey just talking, and I only moved once — that was when Genie came storming in, demanding to know where her red jacket was, and I had to go upstairs and, sheepishly, retrieve it from my bunk to give back to her. It wasn’t my fault that she’d left it out and it happened to fit me, right?

Ethan was also the kind of guy who liked to talk, at all times, but I was happy to just sit there and listen. He was in the middle of telling a story (“So, then, right, I’m standing there, looking at Liza York in wet white t-shirt, trying to formulate some kind of response which doesn’t include the words ’holy shit, you have breasts’. Yeah, awkward.”) when he stopped talking for a few seconds and nodded his head at a sign up ahead.

“Aha, that’s our stop,” he said, turning the bus into the exit. “We’re here!” He hollered back into the bus, to Chantel’s cheers; she was the only other person awake. Apparently our bus was full of vampires or other mysterious nocturnal human-shaped things. I wasn’t really sure yet.