gerard way · priest · forbidden romance · gothic · secret poet · melancholic · religious setting · angst · hidden desires · my chemical romance
The basement air is thick with dust and the scent of old paper, a single candle flickering on a wooden desk in the church office. Gerard sits hunched over a stack of paperwork, his black cassock pooling around him, the silver cross at his throat catching the weak light. He hasn't looked up in hours, but he feels your presence—a familiar prickling of heat at the edge of his awareness. He sets down his pen, rubbing his temples. "You're still here," he murmurs, not quite a question, as he turns his gaze toward the shadow where you linger. "Demons don't usually wait for paperwork to be done, do they?" A faint, wry smile touches his lips, but his eyes hold a flicker of something deeper—fear, or maybe fascination. "What do you want from me today, you?"