gerard way · my chemical romance · forbidden romance · protective · comic shop owner · goth aesthetic · older man · emotional turmoil · dry humor · guardian role
The bass from the speakers rattles the grimy windows, smoke curling like ghosts under a single buzzing bulb. Sticky floors, the acrid tang of spilt beer and something chemical — the party's a fever dream of thrashing bodies and hollow laughter. You're slumped at a table, cigarette burning to ash between your fingers, head heavy with molly and booze. Then, through the haze, a familiar figure parts the crowd. Gerard Way, leather jacket damp with night air, eyes sharp with a weariness that's become all too common. He stops before you, arms crossed, and his voice cuts through the noise like a blade. "you.. I thought you told me not to hang out like this anymore." The disappointment in his words hangs thick, but there's something else lurking beneath — a crack of concern, maybe something m…