Collision

Mallory found us later that day. Or rather, he found Finley, Jack, Red and I. Alex had disappeared long ago, probably to feel like shit in silence. Jack was watching a terrible film with rapt attention. The other three of us were playing Uno, which was one of the least rockstar things ever, and Mallory seemed to think this himself.

“Fucking Uno? Really guys?” he asked as he stepped inside the bus, taking in the game happening before him. “You guys are lucky you have me to make sure your image isn’t tarnished. I swear to god…”

“It’s fun!” I replied, a little bit insulted that he was badmouthing one of my favourite past times. “Although I wanted to play Scrabble but I got outvoted.”

He shook his head, looking bemused. “I’ve arranged an interview for you lot. Get your asses in gear.”

Finley bounced to his feet, throwing his cards down on the table and ignoring my affronted noises at the fact he’d messed up the game. “Let’s gooooo.”

Mallory, apparently only then doing a headcount, paused. “One second – where the fuck is Alex?”

Alex, it turned out, was on Hello, Irony’s bus. She was also curled up on the seats with Zacky but I ignored this for my own sanity’s sake. It was also apparent she’d cheered up immensely since this morning.

“Guys!” She said as we clambered on board, trying to leap to her feet and failing spectacularly. She swayed and fell back into her seat, giggling. Zacky seemed to find this hilarious as he threw out his hands to catch her and failed entirely, and instead he pulled her back into a weird kind of embrace which involved him wrapping his legs around her waist, laughing all the while.

“Are… are you drunk?” Mallory asked suspiciously as our group watched this. She was still giggling, and that seemed to be enough of an answer for him. “For fuck’s sake! Alright, guys – leave Alex be, we’ll do the interview with just you four.” He glanced back at her, looking distinctly pissed off. “Official word is she’s sick, alright?”

He turned his – admittedly quite scary – look on the other four, and waited until they all nodded mutely. Finley was doing his best impressed of a wide-eyed child. A few more sighs later, he herded them out but I stayed behind.

“Really, Alex?” I said. I knew she could hear my disapproval but at this point I didn’t really care. It was still early and she was already wasted. Now I could smell the alcohol which had permeated the air, and it was a strong. They'd obviously been drinking for a long time.

She looked back at me and made a face, which I assumed was her way of informing me she didn’t care very much for my opinion on the matter.

I turned and walked out, deciding that was a better option than nagging her like our mother, as much as I disapproved of everything she'd been up to lately. It wasn't my place to stop her, even if I desperately wanted her to be safe.

~*~

The next day, Gerard didn't turn up for their afternoon sound check – which was entirely out of character – so I offered to go find him and make sure he was okay. It wasn't hard. I walked towards their bus, and found him sitting on the ground outside with his knees drawn to his chest. I stopped in front of him, but he didn't look up for a few moments. When he did, though, I could see he didn't look good. I was pretty sure he'd been crying since he had red rims to his eyes, but that could just be leftover makeup for all I knew. He grimaced slightly when he realised he wasn't alone anymore. I tried not to take anything from that.

“Hey, Gee,” I said when he said nothing, taking a seat on the asphalt next to him. “You okay? Where's Vanessa?”

I wouldn’t have normally asked, but he looked upset, so I figured that his girlfriend was really the best person to have around at that moment. Apparently, though that was the wrong thing to say, because his face dropped. He titled his head down again, studying his fingernails if they were the most interesting thing in the world. “She... she just left, actually...” he replied, slowly, and he looked up at me again with the kind of expression I'd only seen a few times on him. “Uh, so...”

I winced. Trust me to ask the one thing that made everything worse. “I’m sorry. Did she have to go back home?”

He frowned, a little crinkle between his eyes. “No, no... um, we,” he paused, to take a breath,” we actually broke up.”

I wasn't sure what to say to it. A tiny, shouty part of me wanted to snap ‘good riddance’, but then the guilt hit, my stomach twisting painfully.

God, what kind of friend was I? I took a deep breath. “Why?” I asked, but I regretted it soon after. That wasn't what you were meant to say, was it? Something more like ‘I'm really sorry’ would fit better. I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I mean, wow, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, like, intrude... oh, fuck, I'm crap at this comforting thing. Can we start again?”

He laughed softly, which surprised me. I made the most of it though and smiled awkwardly back at him. Apparently my failure at comforting was doing a better job than actual comforting. Go figure.

“You're a good friend, Cam,” he said, not smiling himself but definitely looking a lot more relaxed.

“Why thank you,” I said, looping an arm around his shoulder and drawing him against me. “I happen to think you're a pretty damn good friend too.”

He leaned into my embrace, but he didn't respond for what felt like ages, and I wondered if I was treating this too casually. I mean, they'd been dating for nearly a year... it was a long time, especially in my eyes. My longest relationship had barely reached three years, and that was ages back. I'd never been very open to commitment, but mostly because of my self-esteem than anything else.

Finally, I decided to break the awkward silence. “So, um, do you want to talk about it?” I asked, dropping my arm and turning to look at him. He glanced at me quickly before looking away again, and then he shrugged.

“I don't know... I guess I should?” There was definitely an unsureness in his tone.

“You don't have to,” I said, watching him draw a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and flip it open. He fiddled with the cigarettes inside before pulling one out and putting it between his lips.

When he didn't light it, I was confused. “Are you gonna smoke that?”

He looked at me. There was a kind of faraway feel to his gaze, as if he wasn't really sure what he was doing. He blinked at my question. “Huh? Oh yeah, right,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth again. He played with it, rolling it between his fingers. I didn't question it. I knew when I was upset I fiddled with things.

After a while I didn't expect him to say anything more, and I was okay with just sitting there, but then he spoke. It was quiet and I had to strain to hear what he said.

“Do you want to know why we broke up?” he asked, without looking at me. I wasn't sure how to respond, and settled for 'uhm' instead. He continued, ignoring my ineloquent reply. “I think she was cheating on me,” he said, his voice taking on a distinct tone of bitterness. “I saw some texts on her phone, and we had a massive argument. She said she was just lonely, that it meant nothing and nothing had actually happened, but how can I trust her after that?”

I cringed slightly at the revelation. I found it hard to imagine the Vanessa I'd met doing anything like that. Sure, I didn't like her, the way she acted at times, but she seemed like a good person really, and she'd made friends with a few of the other crew members who spoke well of her.

Besides, I trusted that Gerard was a good judge of character, and that perhaps he saw the better side of her that I didn't – or at least I'd assumed that. Now, though, I felt my beliefs shaken seriously, and I gave him a queer look in response to his words.

“Seriously?” I said, not quite sure what else I could say.

“Mhm. She said she felt guilty. We’ve been arguing so much lately and I just got so angry. I'm not even sure what I said.” He threw the cigarette on the ground, still unlit, and I had to fight the urge to mention something about killing the planet. “It’s all we’ve fucking being doing. I thought it would be different this time.”

I reached out and laid my hand on top of his. “Maybe you just need some time to calm down?”

“Do you think I handled it wrong?” He asked, finally meeting my gaze. The look in his eyes was kind of unsettling. It was probably the first time I’d ever seen him look so unsure.

“No, no,” I replied quickly. I still wasn't sure what I was meant to do or say. “I mean, that's something you have to decide for yourself. When… my ex did the same to me, I went running back over and over and it was the worst decision I ever made. But, that’s me...”

“Yeah, I suppose you're right,” he said, nodding. I smiled in what I hoped wasn't a too forced way and made to get up, but before I could he reached out and put a hand on my arm.

“Uhm, I was just going to go tell the others I'd found you...” I said, pausing and turning to look at him curiously, wondering why he'd stopped me.

“Sit with me for a while?” he asked, and something in the way he said it made me sit back down again without a fuss. He smiled weakly at me, plucking another cigarette out of the still open pack in his lap but actually lighting it this time. He offered me one but I declined, settling for fiddling with my hands instead.

Together, we just sat there and talked, stubbornly trying to ignore the still biting cold of the rapidly darkening evening, until finally Frank appeared and I decided it wasn’t my place to get in the way of them talking. I felt fairly horrible leaving Gerard, since he was obviously in a bad state of mind, but there was little much more I could really do.

As I left, I glanced over my shoulder, and saw the two of them sat outside the bus, Gerard’s head on Frank’s shoulder, whilst they whispered quietly to each other, and I smiled slightly at the site.

~*~

“Where's Gerard?” I asked the next day, stepping onto MCR’s bus with coffee in my hands. I’d decided that coffee was always a safe bet to get on his good side.

As it turned out, the tour was halted for a few days in Leicester, apparently because of a broken down bus, and everybody seemed to be taking advantage of the extra days off. I’d yet to find one person who had ventured outside their bus today except me. The four other members of MCR were sitting around the table, all but Mikey with cups of coffee as well. He didn’t even look up from his book when I spoke, but I'd gotten used to that by now. The others all offered me a smile at least.

“His bunk. He's been there all morning,” Frank informed me, picking up and stirring another packet of sugar into his coffee and then throwing the empty packet down in the little pile beside his cup. I'm pretty sure that couldn't be healthy or good for anyone of us, especially considering his normal level of energy.

“Oh... I'm gonna go check on him,” I said, walking past the group to the stairs and up to the narrow bunk area. I paused in the aisle, facing the closed curtains of the bunk I knew was Gerard's from the amount of times I'd found him sitting in it, drawing to pass the time. I wasn't sure what I was meant to do to get his attention. Was it normal to knock? What if he was sleeping? In the crew bus nobody gave a shit about privacy, so you'd be lucky if you got a few minutes to yourself. I didn't mind though. Finally, hesitatingly, I settled for a simple: “Hey.”

There was no response was several agonisingly long seconds, and then the sound of covers moving and a muffed reply. “What do you want?”

“I just want to know if you're okay...”

“I'm fine,” he replied shortly.

Obviously this was going to be harder than I'd first thought. Either way, I’d had enough experience with Alex to know not to give up that easily. I sat down in the aisle and put down my coffee, still facing the bunk and crossing my legs so my skirt didn't show too much. There wasn't anybody looking but it was better safe than sorry. “You know, I'm not your best friend or your closest one, but I always thought you'd be honest with me Gerard. I just want to help.” I leaned against the other bunk, using the narrowness of the aisle to my advance. Even if I was blocking off the whole of the back of the bus now.

“And how are you going to help?” His voice was still muffled, like he was talking into his pillow. I had the amusing mental image of him sulking like a teenager with his head buried under a few pillows and covers, the way I'd found Alex many times during her more angsty teenage years. I wasn't sure if a new eyeliner pencil and a Kerrang! magazine was going to work to sort it out this time though.

“Sometimes just talking about something helps,” I said, turning not to feel awkward about how I was basically talking to a curtain whilst sitting on the thinly carpeted floor of a bus.

“Fine,” he said. And then he added, as if he'd been reading my mind: “But it feels weird talking to you like this. Come sit up here.”

I smiled, trying to gracefully get to my feet. It didn’t go very well. Still, despite almost falling over, I did manage to push open the curtain and duck in and even avoid hitting my head. It was a small, cramped space, wider than the bunk I'd been given but definitely not designed for fitting more than one adult human. He shifted over to give me more room, but with the covers bunched up against one side and Gerard on the other there was little space to comfortably sit down in. Our knees and legs were pressed together, a warmth which I stubbornly tried to ignore.

I shifted quite a bit until I was comfortable, and then turned to him. He looked a lot better than he had yesterday, even if his hair was much messier than usual and he had darker circles under his eyes. “So, tell me,” I said gently.

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “It's kind of pathetic,” he replied quietly, avoiding my gaze.

“It's okay to be upset, you know.”

“But that's the thing...” he trailed off.

“What is?” I prompted after a few moments had passed. I hated it when people didn't finish their sentences, left you hanging there, waiting, although I didn't want to come across as pushy. And the look of complete and utter blankness on his face really wasn't helping me work it out.

“I'm not,” he said finally. He sighed, dragging his fingers through his rumpled hair. I gathered that was why it looked so messy today. My brow creased in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm upset, sure, but, I should be devastated. I should be feeling depressed and hopeless and all the things I've felt before but all I feel is guilt for not feeling that. Surely I should feel worse than this? It's not right!”

I put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It's okay. It's normal to be in shock. Often you don't even start feeling upset until a few days later. I know I didn't... when... well, with Will, I barely felt anything the last time.”

“No, that's not it. I mean, I feel sick and guilty and angry and I was upset yesterday at first, but it's gone.” He shook his head. There was something about the way he said what he said that made me think he'd spent a lot of time thinking about this.

“Look, I know you, Gerard. Perhaps not as much as Mikey or your family or the band does, but I do. And I know you're not a bad person. Surely it's kind of good you're not, you know, wrecked with grief or anything? It just shows you're emotionally mature. Right?”

He half-smiled at my words. “You're pretty good, Cam. You almost made that sound convincing.”

I smiled dryly back. “I do try.”

His hand brushed against mine when he shifted his position slightly on the bed; twisting more towards me. It was an accidental touch but one which still made me glance down and notice his fingers were twitching nervously, tapping out something against the soft mattress and making barely any sound.

“But there's something else,” he said after a pause.

I looked up. “What's that?” I asked. I realised that he was actually closer now, his face almost too close. It meant that I could probably count every single one of his eye lashes – except I couldn't, because then, without warning, his lips were on mine and my eyes automatically slid shut. His lips were soft and warm – the kiss barely more than his mouth pressed to mine chastely, but it made my stomach knot up and sent fiery tingles racing up through what felt like every one of my nerves.

I was acutely aware of his body pressed to mine in the tight space, and that his warm fingers had found their way to my waist and were playing with the hem of my t-shirt and the sensation of his hand brushing against my skin, but it was only when I heard the sound of shuffling footsteps that I realized where we were and what was happening. By then though it was too late, because I heard a sharp gasp as I pulled away, and when I quickly twisted around panicked, I found Mikey standing at the entry to the bunks with a look of shock on his face.

It seemed like an eternity he just stared at us, but it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he turned and walked off – taking long, angry strides -- and I jumped to my feet and raced after him. I knew he would tell the others and I knew this couldn't get out. I raced past the bemused other band members after taking the steps two at a time. Mikey was outside by the time I caught up, practically running to keep up with him.

“Mikey, please, listen to me,” I yelled to his fast retreating back. He stopped suddenly and turned around, taking a few steps back towards me with his narrowed eyes full of fury. He looked angrier than I'd ever seen – usually it was just displeasure or annoyance directed at me, but this was full-blown rage.

“No, you listen to me, Cameron,” he snapped. “He was happy until you came along, okay? He was happy and you ruined it! You fucking ruined it!” I opened my mouth to respond but he wasn't finished. “You couldn't wait to get your hands on him, could you?”

His voice was full of venom, and it felt like somebody had dug a knife into my back. Especially his next words.

“You're a mess, Cam, with no respect for other people's feelings. I hope you're happy, you've ruined two people's lives.”

I bit my lip, holding tears back, but I couldn't form a response even if I wanted to. For several seconds I just stood there, staring at him silently, trying to hide just how much those words hurt.

Then suddenly Gerard was there, and he grabbed hold of his brother's shoulders. “Stop it! For fuck's sake, Mikey. You've got to stop acting like an idiot. She's done nothing wrong.”

Mikey turned his glare on Gerard, pulling out of his grip. “Oh yeah? Nothing? You broke up with Vanessa yesterday! And already she's come traipsing in and started sucking face with you. Who are you? My brother wouldn't do that.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. You don't know what you're talking about. She didn't do anything. She just came here to comfort me, you realise that? She was just concerned. As a friend. I kissed her.”

“And that's her idea of comforting, is it?” He sneered. “There's being concerned and that certainly wasn't—”

“Stop it, stop it both of you!” I snapped suddenly, finally reaching breaking point. I was surprised when they did actually stop and they both turned to me – identical looks of both confusion and anger plastered on their faces. If I hadn't been so angry myself I probably would have found their similar expressions funny, but at that moment all I could do was clench my fists and glare, coldly, at both of them, daring them to speak as I did myself. “Look, this is pointless. I get you're upset Mikey, and I'm sorry. But trust me, it wasn't deliberate on my part. It was just a mistake. Gerard's just confused. It's nothing. You don't need to make such a big deal out of it. It won't happen again because it was just a mistake. Okay?”

They both stared at me, and I took a deep breath, suddenly nervous, especially when Mikey's gaze still didn't soften. Finally, after a long silence, he turned and stalked off. I turned to Gerard, but now he wouldn't look at me and walked back into the bus. He even ignored me when I called out to him.

~*~

My solution to this all happening was simple: avoidance. I retreated to my bunk to sulk like a teenager. I figured after a few hours of tossing and turning – my brain unable to stop pouring over ways of dealing with my new fucked up situation – that the simplest way to cope would be to ignore it. It probably wasn't the best idea, and I knew that myself, but I had little choice. So when I finally fell asleep, and then promptly woke up a few hours later to the sound of Chantel yelling, using an amount of profanities worthy of the most sea-worthy sailor, at somebody at the top of her voice, I'd already decided what I was going to do.

I rolled out of my bunk rather gracefully, but my gracefulness ended soon after I got to my feet when I took a step forward, forgot to look at the floor, and tripped over a pair of heels which were lying right in front of my bunk. I sighed after I'd righted myself, kicking the shoes under a random bunk, and then headed downstairs.

Chantel had her hands full with a plate of food, a glass of something fizzy and orange pressed between her side and her upper arm, and when she saw me she grinned. “I made pancakes,” she said, as she set the plate down and I walked over to inspect it.

“You mean you stole them, bitch!” I heard Elijah yell from the front of the bus.

“You had enough anyway!” Chantel yelled back, sticking a fork into the top pancake and lifting it – completely whole – up to her mouth to take a bite. She chewed it for a few seconds, and then swallowed before grinning at me again. “So, tell me, honey – why did you spend the morning muttering under your breath in your bed?”

My eyebrows raised, in danger of disappearing completely under my messy side fringe. “What?”

“I went up there earlier and you were doing this whole twitchy thing and mumbling,” Chantel said, shaking her head and acting out what was apparently meant to be me tossing and turning. Then she winked at me. “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

I looked down at my lap, my hands clasped together and playing with my charm bracelet using my thumb, before sighing. “You wouldn't get it,” I said finally, ignoring the playfulness of her words. I wasn't even sure if that was the truth or if I just didn't want to tell her. I think it was a mixture of both.

She gave me a hard stare. “Try me, bitch,” was her simple reply, lifting up the glass with the weird orange fizzy liquid in it and taking a sip.

“Fine. But you must promise me this: you won't tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

“No, seriously. I'm not kidding. Nobody gets told. Got that?” I said sternly, meeting her eyes.

She arched an eyebrow, then nodded. “Fine.”

“Okay... so, I might have—sort of—kissed Gerard yesterday.”

“No way!” She said with a slight gasp, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth. “Woah, good on you Cam. But doesn't he have, you know, a girlfriend?”

“He did.” My eyes slid back to my lap again, and I felt a heat settle on my cheeks. “I'm not really proud of saying this, but they broke up yesterday.”

“Well fuck.” Chantel wanted the whole story, then, so I told her everything. As much as I thought I should keep it to myself, I realized that it helped talking to her. By time I'd finished, her pancakes had gone cold, and she gave them a forlorn glance before getting to her feet and going to dump them in the bin. When she came back, she put a hand on my shoulder. “Sounds complicated,” she said. “But you know what? I think you'll cope. You're smart.”

“Helpful, Eli,” I replied dryly, laying my head on my arms. “And I really do hope that's the case.”

“It is. Now, you've got crowd control, so move your butt.”

“Where?”

She gave me a sheepish smile as if she knew how much the next thing she said would annoy me. “Er... MCR's tent.”

“What? No fucking way!”