ROLL WITH IT [g.way x reader]

Chapter 19: Perfectionists Bring Out The Worst In Each Other

You deadpanned, "Don't you hit me with that. You sent me here, you should know the logistics."

Well if you think about it you're here now. So why worry about what's supposed to happen? Things changed the second you got here.

"So you're saying that I should just... not worry? But what about Gerard — uh, I mean, the people's lives? They won't have the lives they were supposed to have."

You don't think you can positively affect somebody's life?

"I don't want to get a saviour complex."

As you said, there's a difference between being confident in yourself and arrogance.

"Wh—how the fuck did you hear me say that?"

I'm kind of all powerful.

"I'm still pissed off that I'm here, you know that, right? I'm not exactly enjoying half the things I'm going through."

I'm sure you're not. But I'm also sure that you're happier than you were.

You took your hands off the planchette, and flipped the Ouija board over furiously, with a grumble, before sulking. Everybody was all up in your motherfucking business, even the mystical being that had sent you here.

The next morning, you woke up, and was relieved to remember that you had a free day, considering that you only really had to get moving in the evening, to catch your evening flight to Atlanta Georgia. It was already eleven o'clock, so you'd obviously slept for a long time; and you found comfort just in lying in bed, enjoying the rare peace you got from not having to be anywhere instantaneously.

At one pm, you were about to change the CD you were listening to from Blur to Morrissey, when there was a knock, which made you hit your bed in irritation, before you reluctantly got up, and walked over to the door. When you opened it, you were met with the sight of four people — Gerard, Ray, Brad Delson and Mike Shinoda.

"We were gonna get lunch," Mike explained simply, "thought you might wanna come along."

"It's lunch?" you asked blankly, checking your watch, before making a face; the four men seemed amused at your inability to have time management. "Okay, sure, I'm hungry anyway."

"Didn't you have breakfast?" Gerard questioned, in concern, as you exited your room, and locked it behind you.

"I forgot," you admitted with a gasp of realisation.

"You forgot to eat?" Ray gave you somewhat of a fatherly exasperated stare.

"I didn't want to leave my room," you coughed, starting to feel a little stupid, as you began to walk alongside him and Gerard.

"You know you can just call room service, right?"

"Yeah, but that feels mean," you protested, "I don't want to call and ask for food — that sounds so entitled, I mean — oh nevermind, I sound like an idiot."

"No, you just sound like somebody who doesn't understand how fame works," Mike threw over his shoulder, with a teasing grin.

"Yeah, that's because I am," you muttered to nobody in particular.

Gerard smiled at that, his shoulder bumping into yours. "You'll get there," he reassured, "we all did."

You made a few hand gestures in vague agreement, in a somewhat mocking fashion. Ray just laughed, gave you a small shove, which made you curse at him in turn — which made Brad look over and shout, "Fuckin' language!"

The lunch room was surprisingly empty, resulting in a rather fun and peaceful afternoon meal with your friends; after that, you all agreed to go out, and you hung around town for a little while. A couple of fans recognised Brad and Mike, which was cute to watch, as you they allowed pictures to be taken, and autographs to be written.