Big Emo 6

Legends Of Emo

A/N: My yearbook staff group had to make posters for our last yearbook sale and the one in this picture was mine. Now my entire school knows I am trash, but hey, I make it my mission in life to make as many band references as possible.

Two more weeks later, Uncle Dan drives all of us to the San Bandsokyo Institute of Punk for the annual Punk Showcase in his Volvo car. Despite being fairly local to the school area and knowing a lot of the students, I'm still stressed out about the contest. What if I don't get in?

"Darling, you'll be okay," Frank says. "Besides, even if you don't get in, your song is amazing."

"He looks so nervous," Pete whispers in Hayley's ear. "Yeah, he does," agrees Hayley, scooting over to me. "Gee? How you feeling?" she smiles.

"I really, really want to go here, Hayley. I'll fall apart if I don't get in, and I have a really bad fear of falling apart."

"Well!" Hayley yells. "Stop whining and woman up, you lazy emo!"

Brendon nervously moves away from Hayley, while Uncle Dan just stops the car. "We're here," he says. "I'll be watching you from the closet- uh, I mean the audience. I'll be in the audience."

"Okay. See you later, Uncle Dan!" says Mikey, dragging me by the arm into the school.

"You're on in two minutes. Get ready," Hayley tells me. "Guys! Let's make a Vine of Gee before he goes on!" exclaims Brendon.

"I have a better idea," I say. "Pete, do you want to take a Legends of Emo selfie?"

A single jet-black tear falls down Pete's face, ruining his eyeliner. His mouth curves into a smile, and he sighs happily, "I thought you'd never ask."

Moments later, we have posted the selfie on every form of social media known to man.

Professor Wilson enters the room. "Gerard Way, it's time for you to perform."

I step out onstage, nodding. I take the microphone and say, "I wrote this song, called, um, Action Cat. It's not a very good song. I'd call it a bad poem... uh, can I start.. or?"

"Go ahead and try, Gerard," sighs Professor Wilson. A few audience members boo at me and leave, and I suddenly feel nervous.

I see Mikey in the audience, standing next to Uncle Dan. "Just breathe," Mikey whispers as Uncle Dan nods in agreement.

I take the microphone once more, and sing my song, "Action Cat," and get through the song. By the end, everyone is applauding, including Professor Wilson.

"Not bad, Gerard," he says to me, handing me an envelope. "We could use a musician like you at the San Bandsokyo Institute of Punk. Welcome to the black parade, my friend!"

"You mean-" I gasp, but another man cuts me off. "You got in, yes, but the Institute is not as good a place as my new studio, RossTech. I would even be willing to buy that song from you, too."

"What even- who are you?" I ask. "I'm Ryan Ross, sweetheart," says the man. "But just call me Ryan, since I'm so fabulous."

"Shut up, Ryan," says Professor Wilson. "He doesn't want to sell the song to a tyrant like you."

"Brent, it's you!" exclaims Ryan. "What a lovely surprise. And yes, Gerard would love to sell me his song, I'm sure of it. You'd understand, Brent. After all, you know you love me."

"I DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE I DID YESTERDAY, RYAN!" Professor Wilson snarls. "Now get yourself and that hideous rose vest out of my school. Now!"

Ryan walks away, and I head over to Mikey, Uncle Dan, Hayley, Pete, Frank, and Brendon.

"I'm so proud of you for getting in!" says Uncle Dan. "Yeah, classes with Gee and Mikey will be so much fun," agrees Hayley.

"Anything with Gee involved is a punk-rock time," smiles Frank. "You like Gee a lot, don't you," smirks Brendon, looking over at Frank, who nods in agreement.

"Guys, I just had an idea," Uncle Dan announces. "Let's go to Hot Topic and celebrate all night! Does that sound fun, Gee?"

"Actually, I wanted to catch up with Mikey first," I say. "We'll meet you there soon, okay?"

Uncle Dan agrees, and takes off with everyone else, leaving me with Mikey. "So what did you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Me?" I laugh. "I thought you would be telling me that I should be proud of myself or something like that."

"I am proud of you," Mikey blushes. "I'm really glad you got in. We can go to classes together, have fun, maybe even form our own band."

"With who?" I ask. "Frank? That idiot Ray from across the street? Or your friend Joe, the one who knows a lot about music?"

"Nah," Mikey says. "Besides, Patrick knows more about music."

"He does," I agree. "So, where was I... um... Well, Mikey, I wanted to thank you for the memories, and for... for not leaving me alone, I guess."

Mikey smiles, and lies down next to me. "Well, you're welcome."

We stay like that, lying in the grass next to the mausoleum, until we hear screaming over by the school.

And that was when we saw the fire.