Killing's Just A Game

The journalist from Alternative Press wasn't the last, unfortunately. In fact, there are so many different media sources, that we've had to call an impromptu press conference in front of the My Chemical Romance tour bus. The conference is scheduled for eight o'clock tonight, which only gives me a few hours to prepare. I've never done anything like this before. So needless to say, I'm scared to death.

It's finally eight o'clock. The hour of doom is upon me. The guys each give me an encouraging hug and a smile before sending me out the door. I have to make sure this goes well, and quick, as we are due to pick up Gerard at the hospital at midnight.

"Surely. it can't last four hours," I internally groan.

I step out of the bus, and automatically a dozen or so cameras flash in my face. Taking a deep breath, I realize this is the moment in which I could blow my cover and ruin the entire assignment. Pushing that out of my mind, I put on my pageant queen smile and wait until the cameras stop and the reporters quiet down. Glancing around, I estimate the total number of people present as forty; not to mention the fans crowding around in the back. My hands start to shake as I think of where to begin my speech. I should have rehearsed more.

"Thank you all for coming," I commence. There we go. Starting with formalities is always good. "As you know, the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, Gerard Way, was admitted into Chicago West Medical Center at approximately 8:00 am this morning."

More camera flashes fly at my face, along with a question from every reporter. I feel like a kindergarten teacher holding a teddy bear auction.

"Umm, you there," I select one of the gentlemen who is holding a tape recorder, "In the red tie." I add, to make sure there is no confusion.

"Jacob Zimmerman, Alternative 96.5," the man states, "What was Mr. Way admitted for?"

"Dehydration," I inform him quickly, "Ger- Mr. Way, had lacked fluids throughout the previous day. Then, when he went out for a few drinks upon arriving in Chicago, the slight alcohol intake only increased this dehydration. As you all know, alcohol is a depressant and is known to dehydrate its drinkers."

"Is it true that Mr. Way has an alcohol problem?" someone yells.

"When is he to be released?" another person shouts.

My palms start to sweat and I feel as if I'm about to vomit. "Mr. Way is to be released tonight at midnight, after plenty of fluids have been transferred into his body. Also, because of the health hazard at hand, My Chemical Romance regrets to inform you that they will be playing a shortened set tomorrow."

On that note, I whip around and dive back into the safety of the tour bus.

"How did it go?" Ray asks me.

"It was a bit unnerving," I reply truthfully, "I mean, it was my first press conference since I completed my schooling."

"Well I bet you did it gloriously," Frank says supportively. "Now what do you guys say we go hang out with Gee until they let him out?"

We all nod in agreement and leave for the hospital once the mass of reporters and fans has dispersed.

---

Once Gerard is freed, we return to the bus to catch up on some much needed sleep. Tonight, Frank and I agree that it would be best for me to bunk with Gerard, as to keep everything fair. I mentally decide from now on that I'll just stay with Mikey. Perhaps I'll get use to the snoring after a few nights. Besides, his bunk is the most comfortable.

Bob hoists me into Gerard's bunk, as it is the one above Mikey's, so I don't have to struggle pulling myself up. I've really let my work get in the way of my going to the gym. When Gerard lays next to me and wraps his arm around me, I feel the fireworks that I expected to feel with Frank.

This isn't good. This can't be good. I am so screwed.

I manage to fall asleep, despite the electricity between Gerard and I. Though, my slumber is short lived. I awaken after only an hour, finding myself alone. Worried about Gerard's whereabouts, I climb out of bed and search the bus. He's no where to be found. Feeling slightly let down, I make my way back to the bunks.

"Check the roof," Mikey tells me sleepily.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just do it," he groans before rolling over and going back to sleep.

I take Mikey's advice and make my way outside. I glimpse around the lot nervously, hoping that no one else is up and wandering around at this hour. Once I'm sure that I'm alone, I walk carefully away from the bus until I can see the top of it. Sure enough, Gerard is perched on the roof, cigarette in hand.

"What in the world are you doing up there?" I inquire.

"I needed a smoke," he replies, "Come on up. There's a ladder on the back."

I follow his instructions and climb up the ladder, joining Gerard on the roof. Even though it's terribly high, it's kind of peaceful up here. I can see the buses of all the different bands, as well as the stage against the horizon.

"I come up here the night before every show," Gerard tells me, breaking the silence. "It's kind of my little oasis. Sometimes I just need to get away from it all and think, you know?"

"It must get pretty stressful," I say quietly, "Being in this band, being famous, and all."

"It can be," Gerard agrees, "But it definitely has its good points, too. I mean, I get to do what I love and people actually enjoy it. This band has the best fans in the world. And I get to share all of it with my four best friends. And..." His voice trails off.

"And?" I question.

"Well, being in this band, being famous, and all," he begins, mocking me playfully, "It brought me to you."

"Gerard? What do you mean? We've known each other for what, a little over a week?" I stumble, using any excuse I can to prevent the inevitable.

"That may be," he admits, "But you can't tell me that you don't feel the chemistry between us. You can't tell me that it's all me."

I turn my head away, at a loss for words. I can't deny it, but he can't be serious. We just met, there's no way we can jump into a relationship so quickly. Especially with my...job.

Gerard gently turns my head back towards him. "I know you're not one to rush things, Mel," he says, tossing his cigarette into the dirt below. "But please think it over. Please, Princess. Let me be your Prince Charming."

Upon those words, Gerard places his lips on mine. The kiss is slow and sweet, sending a wave of butterflies throughout my stomach. Gerard pulls away, far before I am finished, and rests his forehead against mine.

"Think it over," he repeats before getting up to leave.

Alone on the roof of the tour bus, I sit there and contemplate my situation. I'm on tour with a band of five guys, one of which I am supposed to kill. I'm breaking cardinal rule number one: Don't get emotionally involved. And even though I should be throwing myself off of the top of this bus in shame, I don't care. I couldn't be happier.