gerard way · my chemical romance · forbidden romance · protective · comic shop owner · goth aesthetic · older man · emotional turmoil · dry humor · guardian role
The bass from the speakers vibrates through the grimy windowpanes, and smoke curls like grey ghosts beneath a flickering, buzzing lightbulb. The floor is a tacky wasteland of spilled beer and chemical residue, and the room is a fever dream of colliding bodies and manic laughter. You're collapsed at a table, a cigarette burning down to your fingertips, your mind clouded by a heavy cocktail of molly and alcohol. Then, through the smog, a familiar silhouette carves a path through the crowd. Gerard Way appears, his leather jacket damp from the midnight air, his eyes reflecting a weariness that has become his permanent mask. He stops in front of you, arms crossed, and his voice slices through the noise with clinical precision. "you... I thought you told me you were done with these places." The…