ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 8: Procrastination Problems

"Y'know MSI aren't the only people on this tour, right?" Harvey gave you an exasperated stare, "Linkin Park are the reason you're even here in the first place, and due to time constraints, you haven't even been able to actually meet them."

"Fuck, you're right," you murmured; in fact, that awakened something in you.

The lead singer of Linkin Park, Chester Bennington, was going to commit suicide in 2017; maybe, in some roundabout way, you could prevent that, if you tried really hard. It's not like the tiniest events couldn't change the course of history, so you could at least give it a shot — not out of a saviour complex, though you were worried you were developing one, but out of moral obligation.

Damn, now you had a bunch of things to do; not have a mental breakdown due to the tour, not get in the way of Lyn-Z and Gerard, make sure Chester Bennington didn't end up the way he would in the future, and try and warn people about the incoming political disasters of the future.

Well. At least you had things to do while you were stuck here.

You straightened up, with a new goal in mind. "Thanks, Harvey," you told him firmly, "which room are they in?"

"They're on the fifth in room 78," your manager answered, before looking you up and down in judgement, "but get dressed and eat before you do anything."

"Sure," you agreed, "have you eaten already?"

Harvey paused; then adopted a small grimace, whilst swallowing thickly. "I don't need to eat," he denied, a note of fear entering his voice.

You stopped, and opened your door fully, staring at him in concern — "Harvey, you need to eat," you remarked, a slow realisation creeping up on you.

"I don't really," he echoed, touching his stomach lightly, as if there was something here that he didn't want.

You reached out, and touched his shoulder in concern; "Hey, are you alright?" you asked softly, "Look, I don't know what's going on, but if you feel like you're overweight, then starving yourself really isn't the way to go."

"What?" he blinked, and said your name in a surprised tone, "I have diarrhoea. I don't want to eat because then I'll end up on the toilet."

"... oh."

Well. Back to being a clown, you supposed.

Harvey clapped a hand over his mouth, some shiny, emotional tears appearing in his eyes, "You thought I had an eating disorder?! Bless your heart, oh my god, you sweet baby."

"Shut up."

Your breakfast was a small, nice meal, which you savoured whilst sitting on the floor amongst your blankets, before you actually had a shower and got dressed. By the time you had completed your routine, it was quarter to eleven, and you slipped out of your room in order to go and meet Linkin Park; of course, you were nervous, so you took your phone in your pocket in case you needed to call Harvey for help.

When you arrived at their door, you started to feel sick again. Meeting these famous people constantly was starting to take a toll on you mentally, and you were always desperately hoping that they didn't think you were an idiot. Thinking about other people's opinions of you so often couldn't be healthy.

Just say hi, and get it all over with. And be normal, for the love of fucking shit, don't talk about suicide or self harm.

After taking a deep breath, you lifted a shaking hand, and knocked firmly on the door, before shuffling backwards. The wait was agonising, and you heard voices within which made your stomach churn in absolute terror, as you desperately began to think of any appropriate greeting for one of the biggest rock bands of all time.