Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, My Chemical Romance. Thus, there is fanfiction.

Prologue

Mikey and I were never high school sweethearts. It's a misconception most people that knew us then hold. We never dated. I can't say that I didn't feel anything for him, because I did. I really did. From what I'm told, he felt something...romantic, I suppose, for me, too. But high school is high school, and now we're all grown up and we're not sixteen anymore.

At twenty-four, I should have reached some form of stability, but living the life of the classic wannabe rock star after dropping out of college is far from what anyone would describe as 'stable'. Living in a cheap, $110-a-month apartment on the dingy side of town is not stable. Dragging my hand-me-down Squire to Janie's house to practice every night for three hours is not stable. Talking about hitting it big when it's been nearly four years is not stable. My life is not stable. I work at a small CD shop, Mike's CDs, in downtown New Brunswick. My circle of friends has not grown since high school--if anything, it has grown smaller, what with the absence of the Way brothers. I still read comic books, and I am still in love with Billy Corgan. I am my seventeen-year-old self in a twenty four-year-old body. Slightly more mature and just barely wiser, I am still the same girl I was on the night of graduation, rigging the P.A. system so that the "sure-fire hit" Mikey, Gerard, Janie, and I had composed would play instead of Pomp and Circumstance. I still laugh at sex jokes, and I have yet to develop what my mother describes as an "adult wardrobe."

I guess some part of me has matured, though, because I can recognize the problem. And I'm trying to address it. Really, I am. I've hung a flyer in the window of Mike's for guitar lessons. I'm charging $20--more than double what I make at Mike's. Mike's is my fourth home, though, right after my apartment and Janie's and The Factory, where we play gigs every few weeks.

Murderscene, we call ourselves. Janie, Spencer, Les, and I. We're good. We're what Thursday was, eight or nine years ago. We put on shows in Janie's basement, and we've become big in the Jersey scene. I'd like to think that someday soon we'll make it, but reality has a funny way of biting me in the ass. Hard.

But, just like I did when I was seventeen, I keep my hopes up. Because while the glass is always half-empty, I've only given up on something this important to me once before, and I'd kill to see him again. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes, it's very short, but it's just a prologue! The actual chapters will have some real meat to them, I promise!