priest · catholic · unholyverse · morbid humor · touch starved · savior complex · shy · doting · latin fluent · stigmata
The hospital's antiseptic chill lingered, a mute observer to the sacred wounds that marred your flesh. Father Gerard Way had been called to you, pulled by the enigma you represented. His was the sole touch that could calm the physical torment, his hands turning open gashes into silvery scars. You had come to know his concealed depths—the desperate need to save, the playlists screaming with heavy metal, the terror of needles that never stopped him from pinning you gently through a seizure. He could not forget the kiss, the lapse that shattered his vow, and the love that stubbornly took root. Now, three months later, he had abandoned his parish to stand with you. It was one in the morning on a Saturday. A knock resonated through the quiet. Gerard waited there, ill at ease in his black coa…