"Are you Gerard Way?" I hear an unknown man's voice through my door after a brief knock on it. I open it and come face to face with a delivery man. "You got a package from... Miss Williams. Please sign here."

I sign and examinate the package. "Oh, he sent me a suit with an  invitation!" I discover the outfit and a card written in gold letters with amazement. I also find a letter.

For Gerard. You will look gorgeous in this.
– sincerely yours, Hayley Williams.

I just met Miss Williams, I can't believe that she sent me such an expensive gift! I run my hand on a tuxedo a much better quality than any piece of clothing I've ever owned. She is so kind... I will wear it to the ball.

I comb my brown hair, then I put on the white shirt, beige waistcoat, black jacker and pants, and the beige bowtie to complete the outfit. I hope this will make people forget about my shoes.

I hear a few rhythmed honks outside and I look outside the window, intrigued. A red Mercedes is parked before the building in a very impressive way. There is a clear contrast between the neighborhood where some drag their carriage with horses, and the fancy car.

A man gets out of the car and lays back on the hood, his arms folded.

"...Urie?" I call from my second-floor room.

"Hello, darling! I've come to pick you up. I figured you were living a little too far from the whereabouts of the ceremony. Don't thank me." Urie waves his hands around dramatically.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

A few minutes later, I was getting into his car and Urie drives off.

"I'm starting to regret asking you to accompany me," I confess.

"What did I do?" Urie asks, confused.

I sigh. "I'm attending a former students ball, and you're dressed like a dandy in his way to go to a jewelry auction, if only this dandy had been splattered with paint beforehand. This is a nightmare..."

Urie is wearing a bright red, slightly orange suit with a black bowtie. There is a silvery feather pin on his chest with lots of little... diamonds? Its tip ends with an oval, blue gemstone.

"Well, I can assure you that we will be the center of attention. Do you want to bet?" he smirks. Surprising myself, I smirk back, feeling playful.

"Of course, what do you want to bet on?"

"The loser must grant a wish to the winner. Alright?" Urie answered without hesitation.

"Deal!"

After this exclamation, an awkward silence settles in the car. Neither of us knows what to talk about, until...

"Why did you come to the Gotham News?" Urie asks, using the softest tone I have ever heard him use.

"Because I needed a job," I simply answer.

"Why did you leave your former journal?"

I've tried to stop thinking about what happened, because it still makes no sense to me. I have no rational explanation, and this is what hurts the most, I think. But Urie's question makes some memories flow back, and I notice that I am actually ready to think about it again.

"I snuck into the Metropolitan Hospital and found out about a patient's tragic story. Using this story as a study case, I wrote a report condemning the health conditions in that hospital. When the article got published, the journal sold massively, but I got fired; God knows why."

"Ah, I've heard that the hospitals has links with certain lobbies and has access to legal means. They can afford it," Urie confides.

"Oh? Do you think this is why I got fired?" I inquire.

"Probably, yes. Didn't you try and find out the truth?"

I sigh. I exposed the hospital and it didn't make a change, and in addition to that I got fired. Perhaps I wasn't brilliant enough... Perhaps I should have let a better journalist try.

"No, this belong to the past. I want to move on. I was thinking about quitting anyway," I confess.

"If you say so. I read your article. You never lied in that. As journalists, aren't we supposed to report the facts and expose the truth? You didn't do anything wrong, Gerard..."

I haven't known him for long, but for once, Urie's words are touching me.

"What about you?" I ask, tilting mt head slightly to look at his face from a more convenient angle. His eyes are on the road. "Why did you come to the Gotham News?"

"Did you see last week's headline? I wrote it." He points at the journal on the backseat. I grab it and read it quickly. The article is moving and the news is clear, but it seems a bit too dramatic overall.

"The style respects Mr. Weekes' preferences. It's pretty good."

"Isn't it well-written? I've always thought I needed to become a journalist, and that is why I'm here!" he says merrily.

"Uh. That's a bit shallow though, isn't it?"

"If I must give you another reason, what about thinking that it's really important to discover the truth?" He grins.

"Taking into account what you told me, can I sum it up by saying that you became a journalist because you...felt like it?"

Urie pouts, disappointed. "How can you say something like that? No, that's not it. Alright, I'm going to tell you the real reason why I became a journalist : it was my biggest dream." His eyes shine while he is looking at the road.

"...What? You must be joking."

Nowadays, money is what motivates people, and most journalists do their job either for power or money. And from what I've seen, I believe that Urie doesn't need either of those.

"What are you thinking about- oh, we're there, Mr. Way."

______

This ball is much more intense than I thought. There is a whole crowd that Urie and I have a bit of trouble walking through. As we walk towards Ms. Williams' familiar face, I recognize a few faces that I saw in the news. It's odd to see them in real life. I've always had that odd feeling that mediatic figures were somewhat fictional as their lives and actions were so romanticized.

"Do you see the jealousy on their faces? Can you hear it in their voices?" Urie gloats.

"...Are you sure it's jealousy?" I hesitate. "It's kind of hard not to be blinded by this feather on your chest."

"Thank you! I've always liked to think it was a peacock's feather, because of the sapphire, you know? It kind of has the shape of it. Hey, I was betting that we got attention, I never specified the exact reason. This means that I win the bet!" he gloats. " Now I have to think of a wish..."

"Gerard, here you are!" Ms. Williams joins us. "This suit looks amazing on you, just like I thought it would."

I eye her quickly. She looks amazing in her black, glittery from the waist up jumpsuit that partly let her shoulders show. "You look wonderful yourself. Thank you for the suit, Ms. Williams. You really helped me out!"

"No worries; it's my duty to look over a fellow former student. And this gentleman is...?" She looks at Urie.

"That's my colleague, Brendon Urie. Urie, this is Hayley Williams."

"I've heard quite a lot of things about you, miss Williams. Your flight across the Gulf of Mexico was incredible. We are all proud to have such an extraordinary woman here, in New York city."

Ms. Williams chuckles at Urie's word. "You're flattering me. There are many incredible women and men in New York. Can I please borrow your partner for a moment, Mr. Urie?"

"Of course. You two have a great evening." Urie nods, grinning. I suppose he does enjoy himself a lot at parties. That is not entirely my case; I didn't grow up in that kind of environment and intense social interactions tend to make me anxious anyway, like there is always something big at stake.

"Let me introduce you to the person I told you about," Ms. Williams tells me and the moment Urie was is, she grabs my arm and leads me through the crowd toward a tall – not as tall as Mr. Weekes – man.

"Ray, this is Mr. Way, a journalist for the Gotham News. He also attended Harvard. The last time he interviewed me, we discussed about justice-related issues, and I thought I'd introduce him to you since you are a perfect example of its embodiment."

I am confronted with a charismatic, significantly older man – by at least ten years, maybe fifteen, which leads me to conclude that he and Ms. Williams did not meet at Harvard during their cursus. He has dark brown, curly, shoulder-length hair, and swarthy skin. His outfit is very sober although this is a relatively informal celebration; a plain black three-piece suit.

"Ray Toro," he introduces himself. His voice is quite soft and sweet, clashing with his strong build. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Way."

Ray Toro? The recently named special prosecutor? The media has been writing about him for so long that I feel like I already know him.

"Are you the new special prosecutor?" I ask to make sure my information is correct – as a journalist. "I can't believe that I'm finally meeting you..."

"Let's meet later to have a real conversation. I must prepare my speech," he tells.

"Mr. Toro, would you have time for an interview later on? Beyond your career achievements and aspirations, I would like to know more about the difficulties you face as a new prosecutor, especially as a prosecutor that's openly very aggressive towards the mafia in a political climate that is implicitly permeable to it."

"What a coincidence! It's one of the topics I will evoke in my speech. You can listen to it if you want," Mr. Toro offers.

I nod. I can finally relax after Mr. Toro promises me that I will be able to interview him, one day. I obtained what I came for, that's good news.

I sit down next to Ms. Williams as Mr. Toro stands before a radio-like mic. The speech begins.

"...Organized crime is becoming a more and more important threat, it is one of the greatest challenges of our country. To face it, we must muster all our forces and condemn by the law. In the meantime, I advocate for more women to join the profession of law, so we can reform the law hand in hand. I hope that one day, our friends and families will be able to safely walk hand in hand in the streets of New York, at night."

That is the core of the speech. I clap, and I'd clap twice as loud if my hands let me.
I join Mr. Toro to congratulate him as soon as he steps off the stage. "What a wonderful speech. With your leadership and determination, I am sure that these criminals can be arrested! But, what did you mean exactly by 'muster all our forces'?" I ask.

"Besides public forces, each member of society has a part to play, whether it's a random civilian or someone who has the means to make themselves be heard, like a journalist," Toro explains. I feel proud and honored and he smiles at the sight of me swelling. "The press has an important role in the war against crime," he states again.

I nod my head. "It does, numerous journalists have contributed to it. But me..."

Mr. Toro shakes his head. "That is not true, I read your article about the Metropolitan Hospital. It was powerful and it truly moved me. It was significant."

My eyebrows rise. "You remember it? I thought that everybody had already forgotten about it..."

"Well, it had an effect on me. By the way, have you followed the evolution of the patients' situation?"

"To be fair, I was forced to leave the Sunday News because of the article?" I admit with an ounce of sadness.

"I am concerned with this as a prosecutor and as a man, but I cannot invest directly because of my job," he tells me. "As a journalist, you should be able to do more for those patients. I can give you my support, if you want."

I frown. "Do you mean that with enough evidence..."

Maybe I should start investigating on the hospital again. I'd like to know how the patients are doing.

Mr. Toro hands me a card with his calling card. "Call me someday to set an appointment. Please don't hesitate to come to me if you need help."

"Alright, thank you!"

It is time for me to leave, but neither Urie nor Ms. Williams are in sight. I ask for a waiter if he saw any of the two and he indicates me where Ms. Williams is. I thank me and walk through the crowd. My heart starts beating abnormally when I see two of the people who used to bully me in college.

"Hey, wouldn't that be little Gee Way? What are you doing in New York? I thought you went back to your farm to cry to mommy," Astor mocks. Some rich kid who liked to mock me and specifically my rural origins. He used to intimidate me physically, too. I've never liked fighting unlike most of my male peers, automatically making me the weak, cowardly boy of my promotion.

"You're standing in my way, Astor."

"Wow, Way. It's only been a year since we last met and you've already forgotten your place. How dare you talk to me like this?"

"Oh, of course, little Gee is a celebrity now," Daisy scoffs. The shallow girl. She used to get bullied but became a bully when she met rich kids. She was much of a snake, worse than Astor by many aspects though she used to be a victim.

"Have a bit of respect," I snarl angrily. Past memories and humiliation rise from the depth of my mind and I can barely contain my emotions.

"Respect? Are you even deserving respect?" Astor cackles.

"The Counselor's daughter or the son of the Urie family, who did you kiss up?" Daisy imitates him.

"I'm sorry that you've remained a parasite, Daisy. It's a shame you've become a brainless slug like him," I bite back. "I work hard to make a living. You have no right to insult me."

She scoffs, outraged. "Where did you steal that suit? This event is reserved to exceptional students, how did you sneak in here?"

I feel a hand placed on my shoulder firmly. Ms. Williams stands by my side. I'm the one who invited Mr. Way. Is there a problem?"

"We-" Daisy begins.

"Why not introduce yourselves. Mr. Way and I would love to know more about your achievements as exceptional students." Ms. Williams smirks. Astor and Daisy look at each other worriedly and they leave.

"Thank you, Ms. Williams..."

"Don't let them reach you. Worms like them bring down others to hide their own failure. But you're different. I believe you will achieve great things, I can feel it."                                                                                                                             
So many emotions overwhelm me from her encouragements. I look at her with gratitude, not knowing how to react. Urie's voice catches me by surprise and I jump. I thank Ms. Williams for the hundredth time and Urie and I leave.

Urie accepts to drive me home. During the ride, I wonder when I will finally stop being considered as a farm boy and finally earn some respect? Will I ever achieve anything exceptional?

______