Gerard Way's life is based on lack of sleep, caffeine, sugar and bad decisions: he isn't proud of all of his stupidities, instead he is amazed. How did he ever survive to the age of 20? A completely mystery; almost all of his stories begin with "I remember the day that I almost died..."

Well, this is one of those stories.

***

"Mikey, I told you that I'm driving, why do you need to show me this right now?!" I adjust my cellphone to the car holder and put it on face time to see the - disgusting - face of my little brother while the light was still red. "Okay I'm ready - send it."

"You should really watch this show!" He urges as a poster of a Disney cartoon filled the screen. Sometimes it's hard to believe my brother is a grown man and not just a five year old in a grown man's body.

"Mikey, remind me: what travels faster, the light or the sound?" I look at the rear view mirror nervously.

"I'm pretty sure that light travels faster than the sound" Mikey answers.

"Then why can I hear the BMW behind me honk before the lights turn green?" I accuse, starting to drive through the highway. It's a sunny day which means I decided not wearing my sunglasses before leaving my house - I don't care anymore; my eyes already hurt from the sun. Fuck you sun!

"Are you listening to me?" Mikey interrupts my train of thought. "You seriously need to watch this! Besides, you're the freak geek here, right?" He says, seemingly thinking insulting me is the way to get me to do what he wants. He shows me more and more pages filled with codes and number and -

"HOLY SHIT!" I slam the breaks down as fast as I can. Fuck these stupid kids, running out of nowhere! Who does that?! "LEARN TO CROSS YOU STUPID PIECE OF ....FUCK! I hate my life!" I wail miserably as a sickening crunching sound fills my ears. There is only one thing that makes that kind of noise, and it's not a good thing.

"GERARD?! What the heck is going on?!" I can hear Mikey yelling but my cell phone is now on the ground, hidden amongst the litter of take out boxes and crumpled up sketches.

"I'm okay Mikes, I'm okay... oh who am I kidding, I'm not o-fucking-kay! I almost killed a kid with my car - which, by the way was not my fault! The little shit ran out on me -"
Mikey stops me mid-rant.

"Okay, okay - and Mr. BMW douchebag didn't stop on time and completely crushes the boot of my car!" I sigh melodramatically, picking my phone up off the ground. "I'll talk to you later Mikes, I have to sort this out."

"Gee wait!" He cries, but I disconnect the call before he can argue. I can just hear what he's thinking: the fucker just cut me off.

***

I'm halfway through my shirt at Pete and Patrick's Ice Cream Parlour when I see him, and honestly I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. I've heard of supermodels before but they all seem so generic, with blonde hair and long legs and six packs that would put a body builder to shame, but he isn't like that. He isn't like that at all.

With fire truck red hair hair - messy, like someone has just been running their fingers through it...- a pretty, feminine face and totally kissable lips, I begin to panic that my brain-to-mouth filter might choose today of all days to malfunction. It wouldn't be the first time I've embarrassed myself in front of people with an incredibly attractive face. And it's not just his face that's attractive. He seems to be rocking a look that's some sort of cross between punk rocker and Mr Clumsy from Mr Men - he appears to have a bandage wrapped around the top half of his head and an adorable Hello Kitty plaster on his left cheek. It's like my brain is short circuiting and all I can think is ohmygodohmygodohmygod! I have the overwhelming urge to throw myself into his arms right about now and never let go.

"Can I have a double coffee flavoured ice cream please?" He asks pleasantly and I almost melt on the spot. That voice! I'm pretty sure he could offer to read me the whole phone book of NYC and I'd jump at the chance, just to hear that beautiful voice. I'm also pretty sure I'm staring too much, but he's just too damn distracting! He said something, didn't he?

"Umm...are you listening?" Hot dude - as I have officially named him until I find out his real name - speaks again and I force myself to concentrate on the words coming past his lips rather than just his lips instead.

"Yes! Yeah, totally. I was just feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on." I freeze. Oh no, this is bad. Very, very bad. My defence mechanisim - the one that defends me from painfully hot men in ice cream parlours, it seems - is throwing pick up lines. I should stop now, I should most definitely stop now...

"Have you been to the doctor lately? Cause I think you're lacking some Vitamin Me." I resist the desire to face palm and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks in a horrible show of embarrassment.

"Doctor..." he frowns, confused, and it only serves to make him cuter. "No... I didn't got to the doctor."

"YOU DIDN'T?!" A voice from behind Hot Dude screams and I jump in shock. For a second I'm utterly confused - because no, there really is no one in the queue behind Hot Dude, but then I realise it's coming from a cell phone he's clutching in his hand. He looks down at it, his eyebrows furrowed like he doesn't know what the strange contraption is and why he is holding it in his hand. Then he rolls his eyes, shoots me an apologetic-yet-still-somehow-to-die-for smile, and brings the phone up to his ear.

"GERARD FUCKING WAY! You told me you just got out of the doctor's surgery!" Whoever is on the other end of the line doesn't sound happy, and Hot Dude - who now actually has a name: Gerard Way - doesn't seem too happy to be listening either.

"I'm sorry Mikes!" He starts. "It's just that I feel fine-"

"You are not fine Gerard! You were just in a car accident, I'm pretty sure that you hit your head or something!"

I cast a shocked look up at the bandage surrounding his head and instantly feel alarmed - if he was in a car accident then he should definitely have gone to the doctor's surgery. I don't see any blood, but he could be bleeding internally, or have broken bones, or -

"Double coffee ice cream please," he tells me again - and I relay the order to the kitchen staff - and then he turns to the person on the phone. "Mikey, I'm fine, okay! Trust me!" He hands me a coupon for ten percent off and I try not to freak out as his fingertips brush mine. I scold myself for being so juvenile but, you know, his fingertips brushed mine!

"I'm just a bit tired and I need sugar."

"When was the last time you actually slept?" 'Mikey' asks and I perk up, interested in hearing about Gerard sleeping, even if that does make me a little perverted.

"Last night...or yesterday, I don't know man! It's complicated!"

"It's complicated!? You don't remember the last time you actually slept - that's not a good sign! Have you take your meds?"

He takes meds? He seems to be as in the dark on that subject as I am because the next thing he says is, "Wait...do I take meds?"

"GERARD!"

"I'm kidding, of course I do...maybe not all of them but I certainly took some this morning." He's quick to defend, going as far as the throw in a weak laugh, but one look at his face tells me he's not at all sure what Mikey is talking about.

"Prepare my room, I'm going to stay with you tomorrow."

'Prepare his room'... so that means Mikey is not a boyfriend? A relative maybe, or a friend?

"Hey! You don't have to!" Gerard interrupts, but it sounds a lot more like he's begging. "Hold on a second." He turns to me and I flush as I realise I've been blatantly staring at him for the majority of his phone call. I don't understand why he turned to me until I feel the budget polystyrene bowls Pete ordered for people taking their order to go. I hold it out to him silently and only speak when he pulls out his wallet to pay.

"That'll be three dollars ninety five, please." He hands over the money and I get a random burst of confidence from the feeling of his fingers touching mine again as they clasp the bowl. "Hey, can I follow you home? 'Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams."

I realise it might not have been the best thing to say when 'Mikey' yells down the phone again.
"Wait, who said that?"

Gerard just frowns and smiles with half of his mouth as he turns to leave, scooping a tiny spoonful of ice cream on the plastic spoon. "Thanks cutie," he giggles - fucking giggles! - and leaves while I struggle not to melt into a puddle on the floor. If I did melt, Patrick would probably scoop me up and use me as a new ice cream flavour. Love Struck Frankie.

***

Outside the shop, I bring the phone up to my ear again and swallow a spoonful of ice cream. I honestly didn't think they could make anything better than coffee, but apparently I was wrong. Coffee flavoured ice cream is the best thing to come along since plain old coffee.

"Who was that?" Mikey asks, sounding curious and very un-Mikey-ish. I frown, confused.

"Who was what?" I reply with another question and begin to worry when there's a long pause on the other end.

"The person you just called cutie, Gerard."

"Who's a cutie?"

"You just said 'thanks cutie!"

I stop in the middle of the pavement - which, judging by the angry huffs and disapproving mutters of passers by, was not a good idea.

"I just called someone cutie?"

"Like five minutes ago!" Mikey exclaims, his loud voice making my head spin. I bring the hand that isn't holding the ice cream up to my forehead and wince. I went to a pharmacy to grab some medical supplies for the miniature scratch on my cheek and the bruise on my forehead, but I wasn't very good in putting them on. I probably look, and sound, like an escaped mental patient.

"Oh dear... I don't even remember if it was a boy or girl!" I whine childishly and regret it when it sends another twinge of pain through my skull. To be honest, I don't even remember whacking my head against the steering wheel during the kind-of-car-crash, but it must have happened.

"So you just flirt with someone and forget it five minutes later? Wow, he must feel so special, Gee." Mikey deadpans and I roll my eyes at him. "I can see why you're love life is full of nice, caring guys who want to stay with you."

"That's a low blow, Mikey." I say disapprovingly, and then continue. "Seriously, I don't remember speaking to them."

There's a loud, exasperated sigh from Mikey. "You should definitely go to the doctor, then, if you're experiencing short term memory loss."

"Mikey!" I cry, outraged. I've always been forgetful, but it's no reason to think I hit my head any harder than I actually did. "I don't have memory loss!"

"You can't even remember someone you flirted with like, five minutes ago Gee. Go see a doctor!"

"Wait," I stop him before he gets a chance to yell at me anymore. "I flirted with someone?"

Notes

So there is no set Point of View for this story, and once again: this is co-written between myself (FantasySwap) and Leviathan24 on AO3 - she just doesn't have an account for this website just yet.
Please feel free to check out my other stories or follow me on twitter: @fantasy_swap
Enjoy! :)