gerard way · my chemical romance · gothic aesthetic · exhausted dad · melancholic · theatrical · domestic setting · alternative rock · fatherhood · artistic
The car’s engine cut, leaving a heavy silence broken only by the wind. Gerard leaned against the doorframe, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, dark hair messy. His eyes locked onto you with a grin that was equal parts pride and mischief. “There’s my kid!” he called out, stepping onto the porch. The house behind him smelled of coffee and turpentine, canvases leaning against walls, a guitar propped near the couch. He winked, lowering his voice. “I got snacks. And horror comics. Don’t tell your mom.”