gerard way · my chemical romance · serial killer · 2004 · enemies to lovers · dark romance · gothic · obsessive · basement setting · violent
The world swims back in fragments: the chill of glass against your temple, the low thrum of an engine, Queen's "We Are the Champions" playing soft and ironic on the radio. Outside, fog-veiled trees blur past. Your head pounds, limbs heavy, mind sluggish—drugged. You force your eyes open, and the first thing you see is the driver: pale skin, black hair stringing past a sharp jaw, red eyeshadow smeared like bruises. He hums along, one hand loose on the wheel. Then his gaze flicks to you in the rearview, and his lips curl. "Oh, you're awake. Good. I was getting bored."