With Every Blade You Stain

I still remember the day my dad died. My mum's phone ringing persistently, her frantic words and sudden break down, her phone slipping from her grasp and falling to the floor with a loud 'clunk'. I had run into the kitchen, trying to calm her down, but as hard as I tried no coherent words could be formed. I had heard a muffled voice coming from the phone, so I had picked it up. I still remember the feeling of terror as I said the simple word "hello". What could have made my mother break down like this? I soon found out. I don't think I cried much, not like my mum did anyway. I had screamed at the woman on the phone about how she was a liar. That was the first time I had ever openly swore at someone. I remember hanging up the phone, storming into the living room and switching the tv on. It must have been about six o'clock, because the news had just started. I remember the feeling of horror as the reporter gravely informed the country of a horrific crash on Auckland's Northern Motorway, then proceeding to show arial footage of the crash site, masses of warped metal and flames spread over a 20 metre radius. The camera had zoomed in as the news reporter stated that names of the dead victims couldn't be released until their next of kin had been informed. But she didn't need to say the name of my father as the camera panned over a twisted bumper, the warped number plate identifiable enough to me. I had been in shock for days, my mum shipped off to a mental hospital and me forced to stay with my neighbour. I was unable to comprehend what had just happened, even if the evidence was right in front of me.I felt a lot like that now.

I sat on the cold airport floor, unable to move, speak, or even think clearly. I resisted the urge to reach over and poke the man who sat next to me, just to see if he was actually real, and not just some horribly mean trick of my mind. I looked up at his face and he grinned at me. Holy shit. Gerard Way just fucking grinned at me. I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment, I could feel the eyes of all the fangirls staring, probably with looks of utter hatred, at me. And then something even more incredible happened.
"Hi", he said.
Holy rainbows, he just said hi to me.
GERARD fucking WAY just said hi to me.
I glanced up at him. He still had this silly grin on his face, and I couldn't help but laugh slightly.
"Hi", I replied, and my voice came out in a rather squeaky this-girl-is-deffinitly-uncool sort of sound.
Fuck.
To my suprise, he didn't get up and leave, instead repositioning himself on the floor and smiling as he said
"I'm Gerard".
"I know", I whispered.
I know? I fucking know! What kind of a loser says that? That just sounded plain creepy, I mean, he IS like, really famous, and, known world-widely and all that shit, but it still sounds creepy.
He laughed.
He fucking LAUGHED.
Gerard Way has the cutest laugh, I have decided, aside from Frank Iero that is.
"What's your name?" He asked and I realised how rude I must have sounded not saying my name in return.
"Karla", I replied, a little more confidently, and looked at him again.
"That's a cool name", he said, and then his eyes flicked to the sketch book open on my knees and his face changed to an expression that can only be described as delight.
"Can I see this?" He asked, rather enthusiastically, in my opinion.
"Sure", I replied, and before I could do anything else he had picked it up off my legs.
Holy headless horseman.
I watched as his eyes visibly lit up, the smile on his face only growing wider.
"Wait", he said. "Is this me?"
I felt myself blush a furious shade of red and nodded.
"Wow", was all he said as he continued to flip through the pages. "You're really good."
I laughed nervously and lifted a hand to brush some hair away from my face muttering, "Thanks", when he caught my arm.
My blood ran cold as I silently prayed that my sleeve covered my whole arm, before realising that he was looking at the pencil in my left hand. His eyes flicked to my right hand where I still held the 6B pencil, and then landed on my face as he released my left arm.
"You're ambidextrous", he stated.
"Yeah!" I replied my eyes widening.
"I saw you drawing with both hands before", he winked at me.
Oh my fucking gods in all the nine realms of the universe.
Gerard Way just winked at me.
I laughed again, unable to do anything else.
"Sorry", he laughed. "That probably sounds really creepy."
I laughed again, then found my voice enough to say
"Not really. I'm just kinda suprised you noticed me."
"Are you kidding me?" He laughed. "You're the first interesting person I've seen in this country!"
Gerard Way thought I was interesting.
He handed my sketch book back to me and leaned back on the wall.
"So", he said, "You live here right?"
Oh my freakin gods.
"Well not here, exactly", I grinned, pointing at the floor beneath me.
He laughed.
"Ok then, where?" He asked.
Holy hole in a doughnut, did Gerard Way just ask me where I lived?
"Ahh... Orewa", I said and then continued at the blank look on his face. "It's a town about 45km north form here. Just off the Northern Motorway, between Silverdale and Warkworth. Kinda South of Whangarei -"
I was rambling.
"I'm not even going to try and pronounce those Maori names", he stated, grinning. "But it does sound interesting."
"Aren't you tired?" I asked suddenly.
He looked at me sideways.
"Um... Kinda, yeah", he replied. "Why?"
"Well, you've been flying, right? I was just thinking of, you know, jetlag..." I trailed off, not sure why I had asked in the first place.
"Oh!" He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, right...."
I wasn't sure I wanted to know what he thought I'd meant.
"So how old are you, Karla?" He asked.
Wow. He remembered my name.
"Fourteen", I replied.
He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
Holy shit. I'd forgotten I'd wagged school today. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It read: Wednesday, 2:48pm. Oops.
"Uhh....", I began, and Gerard laughed.
"Caught ya!" He teased, poking my arm.
I laughed, and feigned a hurt expression, reaching up to brush more hair out of my eyes.
I didn't even feel my sleeve ride up until the smile on Gerard's face faded to be replaced by a look of concern, his eyes on my wrist.
I realised what happened and quickly yanked my sleeve back down, my eyes betraying the hard resolve I had built up over the years. Gerard opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by the man he was talking to before.
"Gerard", he said, and Gerard turned to look at him. "You have one minute before we have to leave", he stated.
"Thanks, Graham, I'll be over in a minute"
The man turned and left, and I felt Gerard's eyes on me again.
Then he did something that I thought would never happen, ever.
"Do you have a phone?" He asked.
"Yes...." I replied cautiously.
"What's your phone number. We should talk some more".
I think I just died.
"Ahh....", I said, as he pulled out his phone, looking at me expectantly.
"Only if you want to, of course".
Did I want to? Did I Fucking want to! Gerard Way, my idol, just asked me for my phone number, because he wanted to talk to me more, and he was asking if I wanted to!? Holy colourful lightning, this was the best day of my life.
I read out my number to him, and he typed it in his phone. Then he grinned at me.
"Cool", he said, standing up. "Guess we'll talk later then".
"Yeah", I replied, rather breathlessly, as I stood up too. This day could not get any better.
But apparently it could.
Gerard Way reached over and hugged me.
If I hadn't died before, I was deffinitly dead now.
For a second I was in shock, and then I hugged him back. He smelled amazing.
He broke away and smiled. I don't think I'd stopped smiling since he got here.
"Bye Karla", he said. "I'll text you". Then he winked again.
That's it. I might as well be buried under six feet of dirt in a graveyard.
I just grinned, unable to do anything else.
I watched as he spoke to the man from before, who looked rather flustered, and then they left, although not before Gerard glanced back over at me and smiled. As I stood alone in the airport, wondering if that had been real, I thought about the look Gerard had given me as he left. Like someone trying to cover up their pain behind the ghost of a smile. After he had seen my arm. Was it possible that Gerard Way, who must have met hundreds, if not thousands of people just like me actually cared about one of them? It seemed as though meeting me had been, different, for him, although I'm not quite sure how. I shook my head and glanced around. Most of the fangirls from before had gone, although some were huddled into little groups, whispering and pointing at me. I felt suddenly as though I were under a spotlight, so shaking my hair across my face I practically ran for the exit, feeling numerous pairs of eyes on me as I did so.
Gods I hoped the bus ride home was different.

Notes

Well well, look who finally showed up! ;D

Also, for all you lovely American people (I'm guessing most of you are American), just incase you don't know and are like, 'what the hell is she on about?' a motorway is the same as a freeway (although probably a lot smaller) and all these places do exist, but I will try not to use too many Maori place names because I have learnt from experience that people who come to New Zealand from anywhere else have real trouble trying to pronounce them (it is quite funny to watch though) ;P
If anyone is unsure of what I mean, then feel free to ask, and I will do my best to explain :3
kilometres (km) are a bit shorter than miles :)

Thanks for reading you wonderful people!

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