Disclaimer: I do not own Gerard Way. I'm pretty sure he owns himself. This is NOT anything against Lyn-Z! This is in kind of a parallel universe where gerard has no band, but is still friends with every band member. The storyline is of Gerard, a famous artist, who is searching for human models to paint. Along the way he comes across a beautiful ballet dancer named Emily Dameur. Follow the sad, heart-melting, romantic, and sometimes blissful tale of these two in Gerard's Dance. Enjoy.

Chapter One

Art supply shopping. Damn the person who invented it.

I browsed the shelves of dry canvas, picking some of them up and placing them in the cart. I would need several at medium size... Maybe twenty inches by twenty inches. Then a few more large, fifty by forty-four, and a few smalls; ten by eight.

People expected my art to be great. I was pretty famous for my art, but my paintings were faceless, so going to public places was no big deal. Only once before had someone recognized me- and she was a college art student who apparently was a big fan of my work.

I wasn't expecting to run into my buddy, Frank. I had come back home to Jersey to paint some more before I went out to any auctions or art shows.

"Gee?"

My senses snapped. I'd been so absorbed in canvas shopping I hadn't seen him coming.

I turned, recognizing the voice. "Hey!" I abandoned my cart for a moment to join Frank. He was short with black hair and very pale skin. He wore eyeliner sometimes, but he was not emo. This kid was a three year old.

He grabbed me tightly. "God, it's so good to see you!" he released me. "So what brings you to Jersey?"

I smiled, leading him to my cart. "This," I said, pointing to the canvases. "I have some painting to do."

"Ah..." Frank replied.

"How's Mikey?" I asked, beginning to browse the shelves again. Mikey was my little brother. He didn't look much like me- dirty blond, wore glasses, a slender face.... No. I was short (but taller than Frank) with black hair, a more square face, and I didn't need glasses. I tell Mikey all the time to wear contacts... But he says they 'hurt so fuckin bad.'. Mikey was staying with Frank for now, until he got a house. I lived in an apartment that was too small for two people, so Mikey just didn't live there.

"Oh, he's good.... He recently tried doing art like you, but isn't very good..." he laughed. "So he says he will stick to writing." Mikey was an author. Nothing big yet, but he had a book out that sold pretty well. "How's the art going? Did the auction go okay?"

"I've done better," I mumbled. I picked out a large canvas and placed it in the cart, then wheeled my cart off to the utensil aisle.

"Was it that bad?" Frank asked, shuffling after me.

"Not bad, but not good."

"Did you sell that one painting?"

"Oh, I sold them all... Just not for the best prices. I only got a few hundred grand total." Excuse me for sounding like a pouty rich kid, but the money just doesn't flow in the art world. I had half a year to make what money I had last. Frank understood that, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"S'okay, man. My career isn't doing so hot either."

Frank worked for a phone company. He made a decent salary, so he could afford a generally comfortable lifestyle. Mine on the other hand was hard and busy. The only time I felt free was when I actually painted. Time just seemed to stop then, as I painted my pictures, releasing what was in my heart.

"People switching phone companies?"

"Occasionally. But the real problem is the stock market..." and Frank went on to explain the financial difficulties his company was having. I listened with half an ear, too absorbed in trying to find what I needed. I didn't need to hear any economic shit or whatever else related to it right now.

Somewhere, Frank must have stopped, because I heard this: "So what kind of stuff will you be painting?"

I froze. Damn.

"Uh..." the cart stopped rolling and I had to think of something to say. I hadn't thought about that much... "Modeling.." was that the best I could think of? "You know, get a woman model, and paint her." Curse my tongue. Damn excuses.

"Oh! So does that mean you'll have a bunch of hot chicks at your house all the time? Way to go, Gerard!" he started laughing hysterically, and I punched him on the shoulder.

"Just because I haven't had a girlfriend in-"

"Ten years?". I stopped again, my heart sinking. I looked down a little, then turned to face my friend.

"I was going to say 'in a while.'" I shot at him. "I don't need you trying to get me a girlfriend, okay?"

Frank raised his hands in defeat. "Don't shoot! Besides... You shouldn't give up on love yet. You're only twenty-five. Some people get married when they're sixty, Gerard. You'll find someone."

Those words struck me, but I shoved them away. "Please, not now. I still have to buy all this stuff."

Frank stared at me, really hard, and then sighed. "Okay, Way... Whatever you say. Why don't you come visit me and Mikey before you start to work?"

I frowned. "I can't right now. I have to find some willing models first." So, I guess it was decided then. Model painting. Portraits.

Frank smiled. "Okay. See you soon, though, right?"

I smiled slightly back. "Yeah. I'll call you up when I can."

"K. See you!" Frank called, then turned away.

I sighed. I didn't need a girlfriend.... I only needed my art and my friends.

I wheeled the full cart towards the check-out so I could head home.





NEXT IN GERARD'S DANCE:
Gerard finds a willing model to come and be painted. A date is set, and Gerard finally gets to go visit Frank and his brother. When the first day of modeling comes, a beautiful black haired woman arrives at Gerard's door...I hope you will read it!