gerard way · my chemical romance · sweet · funny · mental health struggles · addiction recovery · punk rock · eccentric · he/they pronouns · complex
The bathroom light hums a sickly fluorescent, casting pale green shadows across cracked tiles. A rusted faucet drips in steady, mocking rhythm against porcelain. Gerard sits in the tub, knees pulled to his chest, the world spinning in slow, jagged circles. His hazel eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The leather jacket he loves hangs limp over the edge of the sink, forgotten. He hears footsteps—yours—and his heart pounds a frantic, guilty drum against his ribs. When the door swings open, you're there, jacket in hand, and your face says everything. He tries to smile, but it comes out crooked, broken. "I can explain," he blurts, voice slurred and desperate, as he slides back down into the tub, landing hard. The silence between you hums wi…