Let Me Hear Your Love (Gerard Way x Reader)

Chapter Five: Backstage Vending Machines

!IMPORTANT WARNING!
So... I feel like I should put a WARNING up for this story right now. I just realized that this story will contain an age difference in the relationship between the reader and Gerard Way. The Reader being 19 and, at the time of Danger Days, Gerard being 33. That is 14 years for anyone who what's specifics. I know that will make some people uncomfortable and they will stop reading my book. That is perfectly fine. If it makes a lot of you uncomfortable I can change the Readers age to make her older. That's the whole reason for this warning. So. Sorry? Anyways...
Enjoy this chapter!
-The Killjoy Bride
~**~

"We get to meet MCR! We get to meet MCR! We get to meet MCR!"
You and Jackson chant.

The concert was mind blowing. They played amazingly and you're still shaking from excitement. This has been the best day of your life.
You and Jackson make your way through the stadium, heading towards the backstage entrance. You said goodbye to Shianne and Codie earlier, exchanging numbers so you could keep in touch. You totally plan to call them up, they're just too cool not to talk to again.

You push some hair out of your face and grab Jacksons hand. There it is.  The backstage entrance.
There is a big, burly man standing at the entrance, checking two boys badges.
You feel your chest constrict. Can you do this? Oh, God. Your breathing speeds up and you stumble to a stop.

"Jack..." You whisper, your hand coming up to rub at your tightening chest, aching to relieve some pressure.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't back out on me now, [F/N]. It's okay. It's gonna be great, okay? We're gonna meet MCR! And it will be amazing." He pets your hair comfortingly and you take a deep breath, nodding along. How did you get so lucky to get an awesome best friend like Jackson?

Squeezing Jacksons hand, you close the distance towards the backstage door and its guard.

"Can I see your passes?" The man says, voice gruff.

You pull out your pass from where it was tucked into your shirt, showing it to the man.
He takes a moment, looking over your pass, then Jacksons, before giving you both a nod into the door. Walking backstage your heart starts pounding viciously against your ribcage.

A woman with crinkly pink hair turns a corner, when she gets sight of you, she smiles and walks towards you and Jackson.
"Hi! I'm Mel, I assume you two are the radio contest winners?"
You nod, "That's us. I'm [F/N] [L/N] and this is my plus one, Jackson MacDonald."

Mel nods, "Awesome! If you'll follow me I'll take you to meet the band! You guys get to hang out with them a full thirty minutes longer than the regular backstage pass holders!"

You did not know that. You feel like you're about to explode. Thirty extra minutes with My Chemical Romance. Just you, Jackson and the band.

Holy shit.

Mel leads you to what looks like a lounge. It has amps and electrical equipment around, guitars and a few leather sofas. The room isn't brightly lit, but the lights they do have set up bring a dark and chill feeling to the room, radiating an almost dark blue glow.
"Okay! You guys just wait here, other backstage pass holders will trickle in soon, then the band will be here soon!" Mel waves as she goes to leave.

You nod and thank Mel, before going over and sitting on one of the sofas. You lean back into the leather, letting a shaky breath blow past your lips. This is all happening so fast. You never imagined that you'd ever get to meet your heroes, your idols.
A few other pass holders do filter in, chatting and getting CDs and tee-shirts out to get signed.
You brought a few things to get signed too, all four of their CDs. Jackson brought a Black Parade shirt he really wants signed.

You bounce your knee, trying to quell your bursting excitement. You feel like you're gonna vomit. That would not be pleasant.

Deciding you need something to settle your churning stomach, you get up to go find a vending machine and get a ginger ale. Looking around, you can't see one anywhere in the lounge. You tell Jackson you're going to be right back, and you slip out of the room.

Your shoes echo along the concrete floor of the corridor as you wander around. How fucking hard can it be to find a freaking vending machine?

After a minute or two of wandering, you finally find the glowing box of sustenance. Digging into your pockets, you manage to scrounge up $2.50. You scan the selection and smile in relief when you see that ginger ale is in stock. Pressing C3, you watch your drink get collected, moving down to the drop spot...

Only to get stuck.

"Motherfucker!"
You cry, outraged and upset! All you want if a fucking ginger ale so you don't throw up everywhere because of your nerves!

You resort to the only thing you know to do, cause you're not letting your $2.50 go to waste. You start to kick the side of the blasted machine.
It's not the best idea, but it's all you got.

After assaulting the vending machine for a good five minutes, you let out a defeated groan and thump your forehead against the glass of the machine, blinking against the harsh, bright shine of its light.

Behind you, someone clears their throat.

"Um, do you need any help?"