(c) Airport/Show (PG)

Title: Airport/Show
Type: Non-fiction. Drabbles.
Rating: PG
Warnings: A little language.
Summary: A KTF in the form of two drabbles back-to-back.

Excerpt:
A strange feeling completely takes over you. There’s this longing, this burning desire, to show them just how much they mean to you. You’re fucking invincible, and nobody in the world is going to get in your way – not even you. And so, you jump. You jump, and your body screams at you to stop, and Gerard screams to jump more, and you jump.

--

i. Airport

“Gerard!”

“Geraaard!”

“Gee!”

All around you, people are screaming, hyperventilating, crying. It’s insanity. You’re right in front, almost pushed up against the bodyguard. Your mouth, unlike those of the others around you, is closed, soundless. They brandish cameras and handphones; your camera is at home and your phone, in your pocket.

You don’t mean to be rude, but you stare at him. All you want in the world is to look at him and say thank you, maybe have him acknowledge it. You will him to look your way – maybe you could do mental telepathy and just never knew it – but all he does is light a cigarette and start puffing.

You wonder where the rest of them are. He must be wondering the same thing, because he’s craning his neck and looking around. This, for some reason, increases the intensity of the crowd’s screaming. Someone elbows you in the neck. It hurts quite a bit, but you’re not sure who to glare at.

After another elbow (to the face this time), you irritably wonder why he won’t just start signing autographs for people in front while waiting for whatever it is he’s waiting for. Or maybe even just look at some members of the crowd, make their entire month. Instead, he just stands there, taking slow, methodical puffs.

That’s not fair. He knows that if he starts signing stuff for people, he’ll have to stay till he’s done everyone. And look at this crowd, it’d take him forever. He’s just being fair.

You study him with new eyes, surrounded by frenzy – the eye of the tornado, in more ways than one. You wonder if you are the only one who notices the slight fear in his hazel eyes, the small spark of panic. The realisation that he still hasn’t gotten used to it dawns on you.

He looks so normal, so human. Like someone you’d walk past on the streets without a second glance.

--

ii. Show

Everything’s moving, and it’s all you can do not to just let yourself go and collapse. You absolutely cannot miss a second of this. There’s this incredible sort of energy that seems to make the air itself buzz; it’s what keeps you jumping and screaming and singing like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe there is no tomorrow -- you’ve been living for nothing but this one show for a very long time.

A strange feeling completely takes over you. There’s this longing, this burning desire, to show them just how much they mean to you. You’re fucking invincible, and nobody in the world is going to get in your way – not even you. And so, you jump. You jump, and your body screams at you to stop, and Gerard screams to jump more, and you jump.

You are part of a crazed audience, screaming their love for the band loud and clear – it seems that no one is quite themselves, but that’s okay, tonight. You are part of an army screaming their proclamation of being unafraid to keep on living or to walk this world alone; and, damn, you believe every word.

You are strong, you all are. And you know that every single one of you there is going to be okay, no matter what happens.