ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 12: Cat Fight

The venue was crowded as hell. It felt like you were being mashed together like potatoes, with people either stumbling around drunk, or casually standing in groups, obstructing the path. The weather was hot, and you were beginning to regret wearing long jeans, despite that being the obvious, safe fashion choice.

"Fucking hell," Brian remarked, as he weaved you and Gerard in between the masses, after having picked you two up from the restaurant, "there's more people here than I thought there'd be."

"Isn't it always like that?" Gerard responded, his hand holding yours protectively.

(You were struggling to concentrate, your mind fully focused on the way his fingers were wrapped firmly around yours, callous, cold and comforting.)

"Yeah, but since this is such a small area, I would've expected there to be less," Brian narrowly dodged a bottle that was thrown vaguely in his direction. "Guess I never learn."

Gerard laughed in a tired manner, pulling you along carefully, as you three slipped past a security guard, and through a secret door, that revealed the backstage corridors. It was much less noisy, which made you relax a little, but that relief quickly dissipated as Brian whipped out his phone, and started to tap away at it.

"We've got an hour before you're on stage, Gerard," he told the front man, "and you," he pointed at you, and you recoiled, "will be on in three hours. So get to the dressing room, I've gotta go check on the stage crew. Start doing vocal warmups!" he shouted, as he started to walk away.

Gerard stood for a moment, before sighing, and rubbing his forehead. "Fuck, my throat already hurts from yesterday..."

You turned to him in concern, subtly pulling your hand from his, worried about getting too 'friendly' with him. "Wanna get some water?" you offered, "They've probably got a dispenser in one of the rooms."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he took off his sunglasses and hooked them onto the collar of his shirt to look at you properly, "sure."

Your stomach buckled, as you hid your flustered expression, and walked with him to the other room, where there was indeed a water fountain, next to a row of show jackets. He tried to dip down, yet his hair kept getting in the way, his black curls flopping in front of his face, in a way that was insanely cute to you, but obviously very frustrating for him.

You snorted, and reached out, before hesitating, and asking carefully, "Would it be helpful if I held your hair back for you?"

Gerard paused, before nodding shyly; you slowly ran your fingers through his locks, and secured them so he could drink. Your eyes flickered to his dark tresses that were soft beneath your skin, your thumb subconsciously playing with the awry strands that stuck up slightly.

"You — you have beautiful hair," you blurted out.

He made an incorrigible noise, and half choked on the water he was drinking. You panicked, helping him straighten up, while patting his back clumsily.