Collision

I was glad when the day was finally over. However, as soon as I stepped in the door of my mother’s house, longing for a nice sit down and a cup of hot chocolate (I was getting old – or at least that was my excuse), my sister launched herself at me.

“Cam, CAM!” She yelled, enveloping me in a rib-crushing hug. “Guess what?”

“Uhm, you’ve finally cracked and decided to kill me?” I wheezed, struggling out of her grip. My chest genuinely hurt from the enthusiasm she’d shown. Jesus Christ. She rarely showed that much enthusiasm over anything, unless it was meeting famous people in music shops, apparently. “What is it?”

“Our band, we have another gig! And it’s a big one, not like down the pub. It’s at the Underworld, in a week. I mean, it’s not a headliner, y’know, but we’re getting there!”

I smiled, ruffling her black and blue hair. “Wow, congrats Alex,” I said. “But why’s this one different?”

I walked into the kitchen, intent on getting the hot chocolate I wanted. I started rummaging through the cupboards, and Alex followed close on my heels, jumping up onto the laminated counter next to me, still chattering away. She was swinging her legs, and I resisted the urge to tell her off for it. I was turning into my mother for sure.

“Because there will be a label scouts there, the Underworld is known for it. Last year Kane got discovered there, remember?”

“Kane, as in the guy who now cleans our windows?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, so it didn’t work out for him, but it will for us. I know it will! We’ve been working towards this for five years. Can’t you be a little happy for me?”

I filled up the kettle and put it on to boil, then went and got milk from the fridge. “I’m sorry, Alex. I am. I just, don’t want you to get into something you can’t get out of. You’ve heard the horror stories, haven’t you?” I said.

She nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I want this... we want this,” she said empathetically. “Can Red, Jack and Finley come around later to practice? Mum’s gonna be out until ten, right?”

I knew what she wanted; Mum didn’t like them practising in the garage (which is where they’d been kicked to after they’d managed to break a vase in the living room) because it disturbed the neighbours — so she needed me to cover up for them and make sure Mum never found out. I sighed. “Just this once... why can’t you practice at Finley’s like usual?”

“His mother’s trying to get some spring cleaning done,” she explained, jumping off the counter and hugging me. I decided to not point out that November was hardly spring. “Thank you, Cam, you’re the best sister ever.”

“I’ll remember you said that when you’re screaming how horrible I am,” I said, yelling after her as she ran out of the room. I sighed and finished making my hot chocolate, taking a sip and swearing loudly when it burned my mouth. “Owww,” I moaned to myself, putting the cup down. It was good that I did because at that moment my phone vibrated, making me jump. I opened the text message and read it, still biting my burned tongue.

you + your sister should come see us perform. alex would like that right? g

I did remember him briefly mentioning that it would be cool for me to go see them at a concert someday but I hadn’t actually expected him to follow it up. I wondered how to answer — what were you meant to do in this situation, anyway? I wasn’t even sure why he was still texting me; meeting up in Starbucks was kind of weird, but not too out there. But it was like he was going out of his way to try and be friendly, so what made me so special?

maybe... how much are tickets?

not sure. but i can get you in… since you know… i’m in the band ;) g

you don’t have to, you know...

i’m doing it as a friend. g

Friend? I looked at the mobile in my hand, unsure. When did two people become friends? After randomly bumping into each other twice? That didn’t seem right. But... it would be nice having somebody to talk to. I smiled to myself. This was so bizarre. I finally sent a reply saying I’d ask Alex before putting my phone down and lifting up the cup of hot chocolate to my lips. I blew on it until I could take another sip, and this time it didn’t burn my mouth so much.

After I’d finished the hot chocolate I wandered into the living room, expecting to see Alex there. She wasn’t, though, so I had to go looking. Luckily I found her rather quickly, laying down on her front on her bed, legs in the air. I leaned against the door-frame.

“Hey Alex...” I said. She didn’t look up, and I noticed she was listening to her phone. I sighed and walked over, touching her shoulder to get her attention. She started, pulling white earphones out of her ear.

“What?” She said, glancing up at me with her green eyes narrowed.

“I was wondering... well, a friend suggested this... would you like to go to an MCR concert sometime?” I asked. I glanced around her room, just looking at how different it was to mine — the walls were covered in posters; guys, girls, bands and inanimate objects alike. I did recognise a few of the subjects, and even saw a couple MCR posters (which felt slightly weird to notice, since I never had before.)

She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that slightly random, Cam?” She asked. “And I doubt we could afford good tickets...”

“It’s a treat,” I said. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

She narrowed her eyes, and then gasped. “Oh my god, you think he’s cute don’t you?” She exclaimed suddenly, scrambling off her bed.

“I — what?”

“You’ve got a crush on Gerard. That’s why you’re asking if I want to go to an MCR concert. You’re a... you’re a fangirl!”

I laughed. I wasn’t sure where she’d got that idea from but I found it amusing how serious she looked. “That’s absurd, Alex. I don’t have a crush on Gerard. Not my style, having crushes on famous people. I’m only asking as a sister thing. Like I said, you don’t have to go.”

“No, no, I want to!” She said, grinning and pointing a finger at me. “But I still think you have a crush. A tiny, tiny one, perhaps?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever happened to band practice, anyway?”

“They’re coming over in five. So make sure you look pretty for Jack,” she said.

Jack was the drummer for their band, the oldest one of the lot (but still years younger than me), and although he could be considered vaguely cute he was extremely annoying. The sort of full of himself cockiness which made me want to punch him. And my sister loved to tease me about it because apparently I had the ’best reactions’. He was also my ex-boyfriend, but I tried to forget that. My reaction today was to hit her arm and then stalk off to my bedroom, intent on getting hold of my laptop and getting some more work done before the house was invaded by three more energetic people. It was bad enough with just Alex, but all hell broke lose when Red, Finley and Jack were here too.

~*~

Exactly six minutes later the doorbell rang. I heard my sister get up and the sound of her stampeding down the stairs, and then the sounds of laughter and greetings. I slowly got up and followed her. In the hallway three familiar guys were standing. I knew them all well, but it was nice seeing them altogether again. Red, the thin, black-haired one, was leaning against the wall, twirling drumsticks in his hand. I didn’t even know why he had them, since he was the bass player. When he saw me he just smiled. He’d always been the dark, mysterious type — or at least liked to make think people that. I knew, from first-hand experience, it was mostly an act.

Finley, the lime-haired bouncing ball of energy, was hovering in the doorway. He was the human equivalent of speed, infectiously energetic and eager. Never could stay still, and even when I’d known him for so long I still found it insane just how much energy he had.

And then was Jack, a smirk plastered across his face. He was the most ’normal’ looking, for sure, but his odd-coloured eyes of hazel and brown gave him a slightly odd, devilish appearance. He winked at me in way of greeting, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and just turned away instead. Finley’s reaction was more affectionate than Red’s or Jack’s — the nineteen-year-old guitarist threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing tightly. He was always the clingy one, even with complete strangers. It could be overwhelming at times.

“CAM!” He exclaimed, as if he hadn’t seen me for months.

I laughed, hugging him back just as tightly. “Hey there Fin,” I responded. I looked up at the others. “Whatcha guys been up to?”

“Did you hear? Isn’t it amazing? We got a gig! A big one!” Finley said breathlessly, stepping back and using his hands spread wide to illustrate just how big. His words all came out in a jumble, but since I’d known him since he was a little kid — he’d been a right terror, even back then — it was easy to work out what he was saying.

“I heard. Congrats on that, guys,” I said, nodding in confirmation. “So you’re here to practice?” Nods all round. “You can use the garage, and help yourself to anything in the fridge. If you’re gone by ten tonight you’ll be fine. Need any help setting up?”

“Nah, we got this,” Red said. He turned to Alex and slung an arm around her shoulder. “C’mon, runt, let’s hear this new song of yours,” he continued as they walked away down the narrow hallway, presumably to the back door. Finley smiled at me.

“Come, I want you to hear what we’ve been working on,” he said, grabbing hold of the part of my arm free from bangles and bracelets and dragging me along after them. I relented, letting him lead me, although I did feel like a puppy being pulled around by its overzealous ten-year-old new owner.

“I do want to come, you know. So you don’t have to forcibly make me,” I complained, stumbling when he jumped down the two steps outside. He let go of my wrist then, still grinning widely, and we made our way to the garage. Our house was built strangely, big but worn-out from thirty-years of abuse, with two storeys and a small, ramshackle ’garage’ built on the side, accessed from the backyard through a wooden door or the front, but too small to actually hold a full car (if you wanted to be able to open the doors at least, that was.) So we just used it for storage, although at the moment it was practically empty because my mother was going through her fear of clutter stage as we came up to Christmas (’where are we going to put the gifts and decorations?!’).

In a few months it would probably be overflowing again, but at least it was a temporary place to practice for the band. When Fin and I walked in, Red had the roll-up front open, and was helping Jack haul the drum kit inside from the battered white van they’d driven here. One of the major reasons Jack had been asked to join the band was that he had a driver’s license and a van. Although, admittedly, he was an awesome drummer, too. Pity about his personality.

It took them all a good ten minutes of messing about before everyone was ready. Alex had joined me sitting on the floor and leaning against the concrete wall, ignoring the guy’s glares and requests she move off her lazy arse and help. Her argument was as the singer and lyricist the only instrument she needed was built in, so why did she need to help move their shit? I was quite proud that. It almost brought a tear to my eye, how my sister had turned into such a bitchy, sharp-tongued young lady.

We talked — or rather she talked and I listened — about new bands on the scene, and her dreams about the future of the band. I supposed if they ever did make it I could always embarrass Alex by releasing her baby pictures to the media. In fact, I would make that my sole goal. Eventually, Red came over and dragged Alex away, shoving a microphone in her hand. I laughed at the disgruntled expression on her face as they decided which songs they were going to practice and she didn’t get her way.

“But I don’t like singing Psycho!” she complained, stamping her foot in a way which suggested she was every bit as mature as a normal seventeen-year-old. Not.

“Tough shit, you wrote it Alex,” Jack said. He’d taken a seat behind the drum set and was tapping out random rhythms whilst they’d been talking, just to annoy Finley who kept asking him to quit it.

“He’s got a point. And everyone loved it at the last gig, remember?” Red said.

Alex finally relented after a few more minutes of bickering, although the sullen expression didn’t leave her face. “Alright, but we’re so doing Watchman next, got that?”

“Deal!” All three guys chorused together.

So they did finally get some practice done, even if it had taken about twenty minutes to even get started. I had to admit they were a talented bunch, despite the lack of depth to some of their sound (I mean, singing about death and insanity was charming enough, sure, but I’d yet to see much of a deeper meaning to many of Alex’s lyrics.) But they were good. Real good. And I was proud of them all.

~*~

I spent the next week trying to make it up to the Boss by doing my work extra quick, and turning up on time. I think she was starting to warm up to me again, because I got given one of the most important articles I’d had in a long time (okay, so it was only reporting on the annual festival, but dammit I was getting there!) Janey and I managed to complete our collaboration piece fairly well, although it took all of my persuasion for her to put any nice things in there. And I got to learn a lot about newer bands, so I was feeling pretty special when Alex mentioned a great new band she’d heard about and I knew who they were — her reaction to my knowledge was priceless. She’d almost dropped the Pepsi she’d been holding and accused me of buying mind reading powers off the black market.

The day of the ever special gig at the Underworld rolled around quite quickly, and I was woken up by Alex barging into my room yelling something about having nothing to wear and forgetting lyrics. I’d opened my eyes to find a screeching red-faced teenager leaning over me and groaned, hoping it was a dream and I could magic her away. No such luck, so I had to sit up and calm her down, promising that we could buy a new outfit (If I had any money left in my bank account, that was) and that of course she wouldn’t forget the lyrics; she never had before.

Once she was calmer, she’d sat down on my bed, and, abandoning any hope of a few more stolen minutes of sleep, I got up, stumbling into the bathroom. We tried to continue a conversation from different rooms, but spent more time shouting ’what?’ and ’sorry, I didn’t hear that’ than actually discussing anything. Eventually I’d brushed my teeth and run a brush through my hair (I’d decided the rolled out of bed look was in this season, so why should I spend more than five minutes styling my hair? Made no sense.) Alex ran into the bathroom as soon as I opened the door, so I found some clothes and waited for her to get ready. An anguished wail from the bathroom alerted me that all was not right, so, tiredly, I got up and walked over.

I knocked softly on the door. “You okay, Alex?” I asked, fearing some kind of horrendous emergency like a missing eyeliner pencil or hair product.

“I have a spot!” She yelled back, the horrified tone in her voice making me want to giggle. I stifled it though, trying to act serious.

“Oh honey, we all get spots. You should see the one on my forehead — thank god for side-swept fringes is all I have to say.”

“But it’s huge! It’s disgusting! I have a spot! Why can’t you see the seriousness of this?!”

“Let me see,” I said, opening the door despite her protests. She had two hands over her face and was trying to back away — pity the bathroom was about as small as a broom closet, so she didn’t have much room to back away into. I prised her hands off her face and laughed at the look she was giving me. “Come on Alex, it’s tiny! A bit of concealer and you’ll be fine. Jesus, it’s not like anybody is gonna see it up on stage anyway.”

“It’s not tiny, it’s massive! Everyone will notice!”

I sighed and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Stop freaking out, okay? You’re fucking stunning, now man up. You’ve done this hundreds of times before, and you know it.”

She took two very sharp breaths and nodded. “Okay, okay. Sorry,” she mumbled into her chest, looking down at the floor. I smiled.

“It’s okay, you’ll be fantastic,” I said, using a hand to tilt her head up to look at me. “How about you can do my make-up today or something?”

Her eyes lit up. She always loved to do my makeup, insisting I used way too little and that I had such great cheekbones so why did I ignore them?

“Can I pick out your outfit, too?” she asked, already looking a lot happier and calmer. See, I was good at this sister thing really.

“Don’t push your luck, buster,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bath whilst she ran around grabbing different products and cosmetics. I was already regretting the decision, but honestly, I could put up with her poking and prodding me for half an hour or so to cheer her up, even if I did end up looking like a panda (which I always did. She obviously didn’t know the meaning of too much eyeliner, but it suited her a lot more than it did me.)

She frowned at the answer, but advanced on me waving her trusty eyeliner pencil anyway. “This won’t hurt a bit,” she cackled, obviously enjoying how nervous I looked. I sighed, resigned to my fate, and let her line my eyes with the black eyeliner, although it didn’t stop me from asking bitterly whether she knew other colours existed, too.

“Of course,” she said, leaning back slightly to look at her work. “In fact, I was thinking red eye shadow, or perhaps some hot pink?” She tapped the pencil against her chin thoughtfully, then appeared to study me carefully. “Nah, definitely red.”

“Are you gonna make me look like a vampire?” I asked cautiously. “Because, y’know, I’ve got nothing against you guys but I don’t think the just risen out of my grave look really suits me.”

She hit my arm. “A lot of work goes into looking a fabulous as I do!” she exclaimed, but her anger didn’t last for long and she was soon giggling again. “Man, you’d look awesome with cat eyes,” she decided, reaching for the liquid eyeliner from the pile of make-up she’d dumped next to me in the (thankfully empty) sink.

Twenty minutes later she finally stepped back, and nodded in satisfaction. She picked up the small, hand-held mirror from the windowsill and shoved it at me. In her defence, I didn’t end up looking half bad. Okay, so the eyeliner was a bit too heavy, and perhaps the red didn’t really suit my green eyes well, but as I peered into the mirror I realized she’d done quite a nice job. I didn’t have the heavy bags under my eyes anymore, thanks to a swipe of concealer, and my cheeks did look a bit healthier with colour on them (although my freckles still showed through, unfortunately.) She’d even used something called a ‘primer’ but god knows what that was.

“Wow, nice,” I said, handing the mirror back to her.

She smiled, showing off her strangely pointed canines (another indicator to me that she was, in fact, one of the undead.) “I know, I’m awesome,” she said, ever modest. I couldn’t help but feel good that the neurotic Alex from earlier had gone, although, later, as we were trying to find some clothes, she did start having another mini-breakdown until I hit her over the head with a t-shirt.

I’m such a loving sister.

I did let her choose some of my outfit too, and I even managed to distract her for the rest of the day by a constant bombardment of activities. By time the familiar beaten-up white van pulled up outside I thought she’d practically forgotten all about what day it was, so she was surprisingly mellow as she grabbed her shoes and bag and flew down the stairs. I’d agreed to come along to watch them after making her beg (although I’d planned to go anyway, I just liked to make her work for it) and Finley grinned widely as he helped us both clamber inside.

The building we pulled up around the back of looked distinctly... indistinct. I wondered for a minute whether Jack even knew where we were going, but everyone else seemed to know this was the right place so I got out with them, looking slightly bemused at the sudden flurry of activity. The club itself was in a basement, a large, black, industrial-looking space split into two rooms, with a small stage at one end in a dipped down area and a bar at the other. We were greeted by a thin, grinning guy with spiked blonde hair.

“Heya, my name’s Grant,” he said, shaking our hands and highfiving Alex upon her request. “Welcome to the Underworld, you’re Susie Ain’t Your Friend right?”

“Well I’m just here to support, but yeah, these guys are SAYF,” I explained, since everyone else seemed to have swallowed their tongues. Alex nodded, and slowly smiled. Grant directed them to the backstage area and to the green room (which was actually white) they’d be sharing with the other two rookie bands playing so we could prepare. As soon as we’d been left alone, Finley turned to me, wide-eyed.

“OH MY GOD,” he said.

I blinked, confused. “Uhm, what?”

“Did you bring the demos?”

“What? No... Was I meant to?” I asked, slightly panicked myself now.

Jack put a hand on Finley’s shoulder. “Relax, Frog. I got them,” he said, holding up a bag.

Once they’d loaded in, Alex had the brilliant idea to check out the nearby shops in Camden, which meant getting up from my frankly extremely comfy seat on the worn, ripped couch (a ripped-up couch seemed to be the staple furniture for every musician’s room, I thought when I saw it) and I refused, point-blank.

“Aw, come on, you’re not going to sit here for ages, are you?” She whined, trying to drag me off the couch by one hand. I, however, had about two stone on her, and I wasn’t budging.

“It’s cold out there, I have coffee here, what more could I want?”

So Finley, Red, Alex and Jack all walked out, leaving me laying there and quite happy with my life. The room was nice and toasty warm, and I laid my head on the couch’s armrests and fell asleep. I was woken up by the sound of a song. At first I didn’t recognise it, but then the familiar words hit my ears and I slowly opened my eyes.

Tell me that you love me more, sleepless long nights, that’s what my youth was for... It took me a few sleepy seconds to realize it was my phone in my jacket which was ringing, so I fumbled for it and answered it.

“Hello?” I said, still half-asleep. I wondered whether it would be my mother calling to tell me off for leaving dirty dishes in the sink, or perhaps asking me to pick up some milk on the way home, maybe Alex saying she’s forgotten something, but it was none of those.

“Hey, Cam,” a slightly familiar, American-accented voice said. It took me several seconds to work out who it actually was, though, but my brain was always slow after just waking up.

“Gerard?” I asked, thinking next time it would be a lot less awkward to just check who was calling before answering the phone.

I heard him chuckle. “The one and only.”

“Oh, hello,” I mumbled, forgetting I’d already said that. “I mean, uh, why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to ask what Alex said. You know, about the concert. Because our last show in London is tomorrow, and then we’re off up to... er... well, like I said, I’ll find out when we get there. Ireland, maybe,” he said, laughing quietly. There was the sound of voices in the background, and someone yelling angrily. The voices were getting louder and louder, and then there was a loud crash which made me jump.

“Jesus Christ, what was that?” I asked.

“Hold on a sec,” he muttered, and I gathered he was going to check it out or something. I heard more muffled talking, then the sound of someone shouting complaints loudly. “Sorry about that,” he said after a few minutes, coming back to the phone. I could hear amusement in his voice as he explained. “Mikey and Bob were messing about and somehow managed to knock over Ray’s guitar, so then he got angry and pushed Mikey over and well... they’re not hurt, at least.”

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” I offered. “And Alex said she’d like to go, so I guess tomorrow it is. Where is here, though?”

“Uhm, the O2 arena,” he said, but sounded unsure. “I’ll arrange it all, then text you the details.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t help but smile, but there was a nagging question I wanted to ask. “Hey, Gerard... why are you doing this?”

There was a pause for long enough that I began worrying I’d done something wrong. “I don’t know. You just strike me as a cool person. Do I need a reason?” he replied, finally.

“I guess not,” I said. I moved the mobile from my hand to the crook of my neck so both hands were free and then stretched. Perhaps sleeping on the small couch hadn’t been my best idea in a while, since I now had a bad crick in my back. I checked my watch. “Oh, I might have to go soon. Alex will be back with the others,” I said, surprised I’d managed to sleep for an hour without even realizing.

“What are you doing?”

“Er, well, Alex’s band have this gig at this place called the Underworld, and I’m like... their biggest fan at the moment, so I get backstage access. Isn’t it amazing knowing a band?” I said, chuckling. “I kid. They actually have a reasonable fanbase, for an unsigned relativity unknown band. But they all went out, since they had some time to kill, and I fell asleep on the couch. Then you woke me up.” The last part I said with slight accusation, but it wasn’t serious.

He laughed. “I’m sorry. But the Underworld... I’ve heard of that place. I think I saw a friend of a friend’s band playing there once. When is Alex’s band playing?”

“In like, an hour,” I said, checking my watch again. “I think. Why?”

“I might wander down if I have time. We’re only a few miles away. And it’s my free day.”

“Feel free too... but uhm, don’t let Alex see you. It was bad enough trying to calm her down this morning, I don’t think I’ll be able to do it again. And, er, I didn’t tell you,” I said, cautiously. “Like, it’s just a massive coincidence, okay?”

“Coincidence. Got it. I’ll be, like, a ninja.”

I giggled at this, just the way he said it with such seriousness. Then I heard the sounds of footsteps approaching, so I said my goodbyes and hung up, just as the door opened and four people stumbled in. Alex was clutching a tray of cups and laughing about something, and all the others were grinning widely. None of them seemed nervous at all, which I was glad for.

“Hey guys,” I said, standing up and fixing my rumpled blue shirt and jeans. I looked at the tray of drinks Alex had, and my eyes lit up. “I hope one of those is for me, or you’re in trouble.”

Red grinned. “I made sure of it,” he said, picking up a cup and passing it to me. “White chocolate mocha... try it, it’s delicious!”

What was with people buying me new drinks to try lately? Was it painful for caffeine addicts like Gerard and Red how ignorant I was about the beauty of variations of coffee? What was wrong with Tesco’s own brand, anyway? I took the cup from him and took a small sip. “Mhm, this is good,” I admitted, taking another sip. “Although, it’s probably horrible for me, right?”

“But it tastes awesome!” Finley said, still grinning widely as he took his own cup.

“Fair enough,” I said, taking a seat on the couch again next to Jack and Alex who’d slumped down on it already. “So you doing soundcheck?”

“Ten minutes,” Jack informed me, slinging an arm around my shoulder which I promptly removed. His smile didn’t falter at all. “The other band is just finishing up.”

~*~

Alex had another mini panic attack about five minutes before Susie Ain’t Your Friend was due on stage, but all it took was me reminding her she’d worked hard to get here, and then shoving the remaining cup of coffee at her, too. In fact, as they all walked on stage they looked surprisingly calm. They’d been playing together for years already, and they all fell into the familiar routine rather quickly. I did have to laugh at how Finley managed to get under everyone’s shoes, even Jack’s (and he was sitting down.) Between songs Jack playfully swatted the overeager guitarist with one of his sticks, but he did it so hard it made it break in half. I threw him a new one and got a wink and a smile in return.

In the middle of the set Alex paused long enough to look at me and grin, covered in sweat and totally blissed out. I knew she loved performing more than anything, even if she freaked out way too easily. They threw a few demos out into the crowd, which were greeted with yells and cheers. On a whole the reception the crowd gave them was amazing, even calls for another song as they thanked them and said goodnight. I had a grin stretching from ear-to-ear as they ran off stage, and I highfived them all as they passed.

“God, that was epic,” Red said, with a surprising show of enthusiasm for him. “Although I forgot a few notes. I hope they didn’t notice.”

“I didn’t,” I said, nodding and hugging my sister, who was gulping down water like a person just rescued from a desert. I grimaced and pushed her away. “You’re really sweaty.”

She smirked and hugged me again, tossing the bottle to Finley. “You love me really,” she said, as I tried to squirm away, protesting.

“Not anymore!” I said, pleading for one of the three laughing guys to help me. Eventually Red stepped forward and pulled her away, still chuckling. “Load of help you two are,” I said, huffily, pointing at Jack and Finley — the green-haired guitarist just laughed harder. I shoved him, pushing him against the concrete wall, and stalked past into the main club area. Another band was just setting up, this one made of two girls and a guy.

I walked over towards the bar, which was surprisingly uncrowded — most of the crowds were still hanging around the stage, waiting for the next act and talking with friends. The noise level wasn’t that high but I still didn’t hear a person approaching until they put their hand on my shoulder.

“Holy fuck!” I exclaimed, almost jumping out of my skin and spinning around to come face to face with a smirking Gerard. I knew it was him, even if he was again wearing a combination of sunglasses and a hoodie, ridiculous in the dim light of the club. “What is with you and creeping up on people?” I demanded hotly.

“I did call your name,” he said in defence, removing the sunglasses and folding them in a pocket. “I wasn’t even sure it was you, but I guess it’s hard to miss the only brightly-clothed person in this room. Where’s the others?”

I laughed, glancing around. The majority of people in the club were wearing shades of black, sure, so my blue shirt and light jeans probably did stand out a bit. I shrugged. “Well it’s not fun to be boring,” I explained. “I was just gonna get a drink… the others are... well, there’s Finley, the guitarist, and Alex,” I continued, pointing towards where I’d just come.

“Aha,” he said. “I recognise Alex, at least.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but do not mention I told you about here. She’ll, like, kill me and throw me overboard in international waters or something. Okay?” I said. He nodded in agreement, and when I finally got my drink, I wandered back over to the group. He followed closely behind, still grinning.

“I’m a ninja, remember?” He said as I called out to Alex. She looked over at me and grinned, then looked behind me at Gerard. Her eyes widened.

“Holy fuck,” she said, and I couldn’t help but giggle at our identical reactions. She nudged Finley, making him look up too, although it took a few seconds for him to realize what she was so shocked about. He laughed.

“Where do you find ’em, Cam?” he asked. He bounded over, offering his hand. “Heya, I’m Finley. You’re that MCR guy Alex has in those posters on her wall, right?”

Alex looked like she was about to kill Finley for that revelation, but settled for turning a bright shade of red anyway. “Dude,” she said, hitting Finley. Gerard nodded and shook the guitarist’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, and cool hair,” he said. “I’ve never been daring enough to go that, er, bright.”

Red joined us then, which meant another round of introductions. That’s when Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me over to talk to, muttering something under her breath. She looked up at me with eyes full of accusation. “What the hell is he doing here?” she demanded.

I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just ran into him at the bar,” I explained, trying to be as truthful as possible. I didn’t know why he’d decided to come, anyway. I put a hand on my sister’s shoulder. “Why, feeling a little starstruck?” I asked, slightly mockingly. She frowned at me.

“No!” she said, rather too quickly. “It’s just... well, it’s not very likely, is it? Running into him twice?”

Three times, I corrected in my head. In real life I just smiled, turning away. “It’s just a coincidence,” I said as I walked back over to the group. I noticed Jack had come over too, and they were all discussing a band (or it sounded like that, at least. I didn’t know what they were on about, honestly.) I hugged Finley from behind, wrapping my arms around his waist and laying my head on his shoulder. “Finleeeeey,” I said, interrupting the conversation. “I looooooove you!”

He managed to wrap his arms around me too, even though I was standing behind him. “I love you too,” he said, grinning. Gerard gave us both a look that managed to convey confusion and curiosity in one, and I laughed a little. “Fin is my toyboy,” I explained. “I’m the grandma of this group, didn’t ya know?”

“Hey, I’m the oldest here,” Gerard said. “Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Yeah, you’ll be getting grey hairs soon,” I said seriously, letting go of Finley and moving closer to peer into the mess of hair sticking out from under the hood of his hoodie.

“Never! I’ll dye my hair until the day I die, or until it falls out. Then I’m getting a wig,” he said. “There’s no way I’m going grey gracefully.”

Finley nodded. “I can dig that. I want hot pink hair on my death bed.”

We all moved to the back of the club upon my insistence, after I’d complained loudly about how damn noisy it was this close to the stage, and I’d managed to find a corner which nobody had taken yet and which even had a couch — promptly taken up by Alex, Jack and Gerard throwing themselves on it, so I resigned myself to sitting on the floor next to Red and Finley. I leaned against Alex’s legs, using Finley’s shoulder to rest my head on.

The band up on the stage wasn’t half-bad, and probably actually better than SAYF, but I wasn’t going to admit that. They certainly knew how to get the crowd going. Jack and I managed to get the bartender to serve us drinks despite one of our group being distinctly underage, although it took a lot of quick talking to convince him that the two extras were for us too (Red had passed on the drinks, which wasn’t surprising since he prided himself as straight-edge, and so had Gerard, although I didn’t know why) and so we were having a pretty good time, getting slightly buzzed in our own corner and just talking about anything and everything, all at once.

“Dude, you’re, like, awesome. I didn’t even know it,” Finley said, directing his statement towards Gerard — who had moved on the floor next to us after Red had stolen his seat whilst we got drinks, the bastard. He just laughed, patting Finley’s shoulder.

“I try. I thought you guys were awesome tonight, by the way,” he said. Alex glanced at him.

“You saw us?” she asked, the agitation in her voice obvious. “Oh my god, Cam!”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“You could have told me he was watching!”

“I didn’t know,” I lied, taking a sip of my beer. “What does it matter, anyway?”

“It’s just... we played totally crap!”

“Hey!” The three other members of the band (and I) protested.

She grumbled something about me being a traitor, and then Red started grinning. “Hey, Gerard guy, do you want a demo?” He asked. I frowned at Red. It didn’t think it was really polite to ask if he wanted a demo, especially since he was only here to have fun. But Gerard just smiled and said sure, so Red jumped up and ran backstage to grab one.

“You don’t have to listen to it,” I said to him quietly. “I don’t want it to seem like we’re using you or anything.”

He shrugged. “It won’t cause me any harm, I’m sure. And I really like the sound. They have a lot of potential,” he said.

“Won’t cause you any harm? I guess that’s one way to look at it,” I agreed, as Red came running back (skidding on the slightly wet floor from where Finley had spilled his drink) and handed Gerard the plain white sleeved CD with SAYF handwritten on it. They’d prepared them one Saturday way back when they’d decided they needed some other way of spreading their sound in addition to the internet and random local gigs, and although it wasn’t the best recording it had come out surprisingly well for a home-made demo (I’d kind of borrowed a really nice microphone and recording set from Janey for the occasion, though, which certainly helped.)

It’s only about a half-hour later, and about an hour after the set, that a stranger approached our little group. He was smartly dressed for the club, although his outfit was only a plain shirt and nice-looking jeans, and he had the kind of smile on his face which just seamed reassuring. “Hey,” he said. “You’re the Susie Ain’t Your Friend group, right?” He asked. Alex looked up and nodded, and then introduced everyone (although she pointedly left Gerard and I out, but I didn’t mind.)

“My name’s Carl,” he said, offering his hand for everyone to shake. “I really liked your songs. You have some nice tunes,” he continued. “In fact, I’d like to know if there’s a way I can contact you about some gigs or something? I run this club down the road, pretty popular, and I think you guys would be a hit.”

“Really?” Alex asked a little too quickly and enthusiastically, then composed herself. “I mean, sure. We have a website,” she said. She scribbled the address down on the piece of paper he offered. “You can find our email and contact details on there,” she explained.

He smiled. “That’s great! I might put in a good word with a few of my friends, too. I know Jim’s looking for some new acts, too. Thank you!”

And then he left, and the group erupted into excited chatter. They’d never been approached at a gig about another gig before, not properly — they’d had to search around quite a bit before. Finley put it down to himself and his awesome guitar skills being the reason this Carl dude had approached them, and Alex and Jack were arguing about them being the reason instead. I rolled my eyes. “You’re the modest one,” I said to Red. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Please. I’m too awesome to brag about it,” he said.

“Okay I take that back about being modest.”

Despite the fact we were having a lot of fun as a group, the night did have to come to an end, and by time midnight rolled around both Alex and Red were whining about being tired and wanting to go home. I would have agreed with them except I was having a lot of fun discussing comic books with Gerard ("You don’t know who Magneto is? You poor depraved soul!" he'd exclaimed after my blank look when he made a joke about it, and promptly launched into an explanation) and I didn’t really want to go home yet. I was tired, though, so after another ten minutes or so of whining I finally relented.

“Fine, let’s head home. Jack, I hope you’re not too wasted to drive, or I’m gonna kick your arse,” I said, hitting the drummer.

He snorted. “Of course I’m not drunk. I’m responsible like that, Cam!”

I raised an eyebrow, but didn’t bother to argue. Instead, I nudged Finley awake with my foot. He’d fallen asleep after two beers, something everyone else had found hilarious and adorable at the same time, and was splayed out, half on the couch, half on the floor. “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” I said. “It’s time to go home.”

He groaned and muttered something about strangling somebody, probably me, before struggling to his feet, yawning widely. Alex and Red were a lot more awake, so I gave them the job of loading up the van.

Once I'd cleared our glasses away, I ran off to help her and Red load the last few things in the van, and then Gerard gave Alex a hug (which made her turn a nice shade of pink). Jack talked to Grant about the payment, which they split amongst the band members evenly, and after everyone else had climbed into the van, it was just Gerard and I were left standing outside. It was late, cold, and I was extremely tired, but I still felt like I should properly say goodbye or something, perhaps thank him for coming out here? It wasn’t like I forced him to, though... I was always crap with goodbyes. He was still smiling, although it was a bit more awkward now.

“So,” I said, just to break the silence. “It was nice seeing you,” I continued, if only to give me a reason for saying ’so’.

He nodded. “Yeah, it was. Again.”

“Do you have a ride back?” I asked, curiously. Surely he wasn’t going to walk in the dark at midnight?

“I’ll get a cab or something,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m old enough to look after myself,” he added with a grin.

“If you’re sure,” I said, still unconvinced. Alex yelled from the van for me to hurry the fuck up. She always gets grumpy when she’s tired, and tonight was no exception. Gerard looked at me for a few seconds, and then he moved forward and his arms wrapped around my shoulders in a loose hug. It took me a second or two to realize what was happening, by which time he’d pulled away again.

“I’ll keep in touch,” he promised. I nodded and clambered into the van then, sick of Alex glaring at me from the open back. Finley, Red and Alex joined me in waving him goodbye (rather manically, actually) as Jack pulled away, but as I turned back to grab a seat I was faced by Alex, grinning.

“So, don’t have a crush, eh?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” I cried at my sister, annoyed. “You were flirting with him, not me!”

“I do make it a habit to try and not flirt with my blood relatives,” she said dryly.