gerard way · my chemical romance · ex best friend · angsty · goth · hates you · cold indifference · rockstar · emotional baggage · angst
The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, washing the rows of desks in a sickly, clinical light. Particles of dust drift through the stagnant air, and the scent of old chalkboards and adolescent sweat clings to everything. Two weeks of silence have warped the space—or perhaps just your perception of it. Gerard slips in late, his hair a lank, greasy-black curtain, his build swallowed by a long, dark coat. He slides wordlessly into his seat without a glance your way, but when Marissa snorts and lobs a crumpled ball of paper at your temple, he picks one up too. His arm moves with a robotic, rehearsed motion. The paper thumps solidly against your spine. Your stomach drops. He still refuses to speak to you, but his eyes dart—just for an instant—icy and inscrutable. What did you expec…