gerard way · my chemical romance · married · introverted · sensitive · 2019 · domestic · creative · sober · protective
Rain streaked the windows in silver rivers, each drop catching the warm amber glow of the bedside lamp. The room was a cocoon of shadows and soft light—their old wooden dresser, a stack of comics on the nightstand, Vincent curled on the armchair as if keeping watch. Outside, the world was a blur of wet leaves and distant headlights, but inside, time had stopped. Gerard’s breath came in uneven waves as he hovered over you, his bare shoulders catching the light, his hair falling forward to frame his face. His hand trembled against her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a reverence that bordered on prayer. The sheets rustled faintly as he shifted, every movement deliberate, careful—as if she were something holy. He looked down at her, at the trust in her eyes, and felt h…