(c) Caring. (PG.)

Bobard. (Bob Bryar/Gerard Way.) Slash. PG. Written for Tawni. I don't know if this is going to be a oneshot or a chaptered fic, maybe once I can write again I'll know.

Happy Reading! (:
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Sometimes you care about someone and you can't be with them. Sometimes it's because they're already with somebody. Sometimes it's because you're already with somebody. Sometimes they hate your guts.

In my experience, it's usually because they're too drunk to see straight.

I never believed in love at first sight. The whole concept just seemed so ridiculous to me, loving someone you'd just met, whom you know almost nothing about.

---

I remembered a lot of things. One of my most prominent memories was from when i was about fifteen, I was in the kitchen doing my Physical Science homework, and my mother was cooking dinner. Somehow the subject of love had come up, and my mother had told me, "When you meet the one for you, the person you'll click with, your other half, you'll just... know."

I'd rolled my eyes, wishing my mother would stop preaching to me about love and kindness constantly. It was something she'd obviously enjoyed, no matter how many times I told her to stop, she'd always do the same thing: give me that sweet smile and say, "Oh Bobby."

"Mom. "

She'd smiled at me softly and ran her fingers through my hair, fluffing it in that special mom way that meant she cared. "Trust me Bobby. You'll know. When I met your father I just looked across the Senior Focus classroom...and I knew. And..."

I rolled my eyes. "The rest is history?"

She smiled at me warmly. "No, honey. The rest is now."

---

Turned out my mom was right. As soon as I saw him, I knew we were destined to be together.

I had been making my way through a slightly crowded backstage area post-show. As I picked my way through the crowd of band members and fellow techs, I tripped over something.

Or, apparently, someone.

I looked down and saw a pair of feet clad with combat boots and a pair of black slacks. My eyes followed the pair of legs up until I saw a mop of black hair, all that was visible through which was a pair of full, slightly parted lips.

"Nyuughh..." A pathetic-sounding groan emitted from those perfect lips. The man lifted his head and shook some of his shaggy hair away from the face that I now recognized as Gerard Way.

I leaned down a bit, realizing that I'd never really looked at Gerard. All this time of his band and the band I was doing sound for touring together, I'd seen him, but not looked.

"Do you need some help?" I reached down towards his hand, indicating that I wanted to help him up.

To my surprise, he waved his hand away. "N-no...I'm, I'm fucking...I'm fine!"

I raised my eyebrows. "No. You're not. People who are fine do not lay on the ground halfway inside of a closet. You are most DEFINITELY not fine."

He groaned again in response and at nearly the same moment someone started hovering behind my shoulder.

I turned around and recognized Gerard's bassist and brother, Mikey Way.

"Hey, can you help me...?" I gestured to Gerard and Mikey immediately stepped over him and near his head, grabbing him under the armpits. I grabbed his lower back with one arm and his legs with the other.

"Where to?" I asked Mikey. He was the brother, he got to decide.

He grimaced and looked at his big brother. "There's a dressing room with a couch in it, we can leave him there for the time being."

I nodded and we started scooting our way towards the room.

After we'd deposited Gerard on the couch, Mikey looked at me and said, "You can go do anything else you need to, I'll stay and watch him, ...in case he pukes or something," he paused and looked down at the now fast asleep Gerard. "I am his brother."

I nodded, turned around, but then as an afterthought said, "I really have nothing else to do. It's alright man, you go and do your fame thing."

Evidently I didn't have to tell him twice, he booked out of there quickly, tossing a "Thanks, Bryar." over his shoulder, and I took a seat in a wooden chair near the couch.

Gerard was snoring, his mouth wide open. Every once in a while he'd say something random. "No...I don't care. Move!" When he did this it made me grin.

I leaned towards him and moved some of his hair away from his face. His nose twitched.
How could someone be so perfect with no effort?

The next thing I knew, Mikey was coming back in. "Hey, we're loading the buses now, and I refuse to carry him again. Did he puke?"

I shook my head. "He snored a little, but that's it..."

Mikey looked a bit surprised. "He usually pukes at least twice. Well, Gerard, looks like you've set a new record. Almost midnight and you haven't puked yet. Impressive."

At the sound of his name, Gerard opened his eyes. "Wha?"

Mikey clapped his hands twice. "Bus time. Come on."

I watched Gerard haul himself up from the couch, and after a few moments of stumbling he finally managed to catch himself and walk out the door, Mikey following.

And I was yet again struck by the oddness of how someone could be so seemingly perfect without trying to be.