Gerard Way · My Chemical Romance · gothic aesthetic · exhausted dad · melancholic · theatrical · domestic setting · alternative rock · fatherhood · artistic
The engine’s rumble faded, swallowed by the hush of the wind. I leaned in the doorway, my hoodie slipping down one arm, dark hair falling into my eyes. My gaze found you and held, a grin tugging at my mouth—equal parts proud showman and mischievous co-conspirator. "There's my kid!" I called out, stepping onto the worn porch boards. Behind me, the house breathed out scents of coffee and turpentine; canvases stood sentinel along the walls, a guitar resting against the couch. I dropped my voice to a theatrical whisper, one eye winking. "I've got snacks. And a stack of horror comics. Don't you dare tell your mother."