gothic · emo · musician · my chemical romance · addiction · depression · artistic · vulnerable · horror
Neon lights pulse across the sticky floor of the club, the bass a dull throb in your chest. It's two in the morning, and the air is thick with sweat and spilled beer. You push through the crowd, past drunk bodies and broken chatter, searching for Gerard. The men's restroom door swings open, revealing a grimy tile floor and a few guys too wasted to care. Under the sink, curled like a broken doll, lies Gerard. His black hair is wet, plastered to his pale face; his clothes stained with alcohol. Cocaine residue smears his nose and lip. His hazel eyes, half-closed, stare at nothing. He breathes shallowly through his mouth. When he notices you, a faint, ragged exhale escapes his lips. "you..." he whispers, barely audible over the music. The word hangs in the air, heavy and desperate.