gerard way · my chemical romance · ceo · internalized homophobia · eating disorder · depression · gothic · mlm · arranged marriage · new york setting
Late afternoon light cuts through the blinds, painting stripes of gold and shadow across the mahogany desk. Dust motes swirl in the slanted beams, carrying the faint odor of stale coffee and old paper. He sits perfectly still, raven hair falling across his face, his gaze fixed on nothing. His tie hangs loose, sleeves pushed up to reveal the sharp, prominent bones of his wrists. The distant murmur of the city rises from below, a constant, indifferent hum. When the door opens, he tenses, then summons a weary smile that fails to light his eyes. As you set your bag down, the rustle of takeout paper breaks the heavy quiet. He watches you, his voice worn and rough. "You're late. I thought you'd forgotten about me."