ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 7: Screaming, Crying, Throwing Up

Oh for the love of everything on this planet, you'd fucked up. You'd fucked up so bad, you'd fucked up more than the human being was able to fuck up, this was a fuck up on a scale unseen by scientists, they were looking at the 'fuck-up' scale and wondering how you'd managed to go off the end of it.

You were going to puke too, as you shuffled after Gerard towards his bus; you never thought in a million years that you'd be staring at Gerard Way's back, as you followed him into his private tour bus.

All you could think to yourself was that you were never going to live this down. Never.

"Sorry, it's pretty messy in here," Gerard laughed apologetically, as he walked up the steps into the vehicle.

"Oh, uh..." you trailed off, as you poked your head within, to discover wrappers, shirts and various snacks scattered upon the floor of the main section; through the back, there were some bunk beds visible, and what looked like a bathroom. You couldn't help but frown at that, "Hold on, you get a toilet?" you sputtered.

He glanced at where you were staring, and gave a sheepish half-smile. "Yeah, I guess 'cuz there's more of us on here."

"Fucking lucky," you murmured in disbelief, as you stepped inside, carefully avoiding a pair of trousers crumpled on the ground.

"Well, if it's video games we're talking, then we've got a lot," Gerard moved over to the television, grabbing a pile of cases from beneath it, and then sitting down on the sofa with a thump, sorting through them with his nimble fingers. "We've got Guitar Hero, Call of Duty, Lego Star Wars..."

You hovered, watching him in almost a trance, still processing the fact that this was real. You gazed in awe, as he took off his sunglasses, letting his dark hair loose, whilst still looking through the collection — you took in every aspect of his being, the little curls that cast shadows on his cheeks, and the remainder of his eyeliner, slightly smudged from his concert. Now you could really understand and appreciate why you'd been so nuts for him as an adolescent.

This man was ethereal.

When he looked back at you, you were jolted back to reality when he tilted his head, and patted the space next to him. "Hey, come sit, I won't bite," he chuckled, though there was a mischievous glint in his expression.

You felt your stomach drop, and you awkwardly made your way over to the couch, trying to wipe your brain clean. "Guitar Hero," you repeated, taking note of the name, "first version or second one?" you asked carefully.

"Second version," he answered, bringing it out to let you look at the cover.

"Huh, I never got to do that one," you mused out loud; it wasn't a lie, you'd played Guitar Hero 1, 3 and 4, but never 2, for some reason.

"Really? Let's start off with that one then!" Gerard grinned, getting up in order to put the disc in.

The cogs in your mind whirred and stalled for a moment, before the words he'd spoken caught up to you. You had to play Guitar Hero against Gerard Way? Oh fuck no, you'd seen that one TV clip where he'd demolished an interviewer on this game, you were not about to go through that trauma.