With Every Blade You Stain

I wandered through the airport, until I found a gate crowded with giggling girls. Guess I have the right one.I hated crowds, so instead of joining them behind the bars, I looked around for a seat. There weren't any. I sighed and sat on the floor, my back resting against the airport wall. For a while I sat there, lost in thought. Why was I even here? It's not as if the amazingly talented, incredibly hot artist who would step through those doors soon would want to talk to me. I mean, this is me we're talking about, the ugly girl with no friends who can't relate to anyone else in the slightest. Nobody talks to me, ever. I felt the all - to - usual hollow feeling in my stomach, and immediately recognised it as the feeling of depression. Fuck. I told myself I wouldn't let this happen, I told myself I would stop.
But I couldn't.
I reached into the pocket of my jacket, anger forming inside me. My hand groped around, desperately trying to find the little razor blade I kept for circumstances like this, but it wasn't there. I mentally cursed myself, I must have taken it out and not put it back in. Fuck. Then again, I thought, it was probably a good thing.
I sighed and pulled my drawing book from inside my shoulder bag, removing the two pencils I kept crossed over in my hair and pulling and eraser out of my pocket. The long locks of brownish-blonde hair I had just released tumbled around my shoulders, and I shook my head slightly, letting fall down to frame my pale face. I glanced up for some drawing inspiration and found a teenage boy staring at me. He was frozen to the spot, and I glared at him. I hated people staring. They only did it to make me feel insecure, as if they somehow knew about my condition and strived to make it worse. I looked up again and the boy was gone.
I doodled absentmindedly on a scrap page of my leather-bound book, at a loss for what to do. I was just contemplating a sketch of the rather crooked rubbish bin across from me when I heard several screams. My head shot up only to find the crowd of fangirls leaning over the barriers, waving bits of paper or CDs and laughing. Well I guess he was here then. I felt a sudden rush of anxiousness in my stomach and tried to shake more hair across my eyes.
You worthless piece of shit, the little voice in my head muttered. Your idol comes to your country and you don't even have the fucking balls to stand up there and see him.
I shook my head to clear it, although I kind of did agree with the voice.
"Shut up", I muttered to myself aloud and looked up.
My breath caught in my throat. I could see him. He was standing there, just inside the gate, talking with some very excited girls. My hands began to move and before I even realised what was happening I was drawing him. The curves of his smooth face, the way his dyed-blonde hair stuck out at odd angles. As always, I lost myself in the drawing, too busy in creating a replacer of the amazing man standing not 20 metres away from me. I glanced up to assess the angle of his neck to find that it had changed, instead pointing in my direction. I looked back down, continuing with my drawing, sketching with the 2B pencil in my left hand and following up with a darker stroke of the 6B in my right. My eyes flickered back up to his face -
and he was looking at me.
My heart skipped a beat and I couldn't draw my eyes away from his perfection. Then he smiled and I had a mini heart-attack.
I felt my cheeks burn and I hurriedly returned to my drawing, unable to stop the small smile that spread over my face as I continued to draw. I chanced another glance at him, and he was whispering something to a man next to him, who nodded repeatedly as if having something explained to him. I looked back down at my drawing, continuing with the pencil strokes, until I heard the loud 'clack' of boots approach, and stop before me. I looked down, hoping the person would go away, but instead, to my immense annoyance, the person sat down next to me. I opened my mouth in irritation, preparing to give the intruder a piece of my mind, when I looked up and saw who it was.
Gerard Way had just sat down next to me.

Notes

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