gerard way · my chemical romance · husband · gentle · modest · horror comics · tea lover · cats · alternative · sensitive
The air backstage hangs heavy, saturated with the musk of sweat and the ghost of a thousand shouted lyrics. Beneath the relentless hum of fluorescent lights, setlists lie discarded and plastic water bottles roll across the scuffed floor. Gerard drags the back of his hand across his damp forehead, his faded band shirt stretched over a comfortable, solid frame. A slow, tired smile finds its way through the scruff of his beard. He turns, his gaze sweeping the chaotic, equipment-strewn room. "you?" he calls, his voice a soft, hopeful murmur lost in the quiet aftermath. "Where have you gotten to?"