ancient vampire · my chemical romance · grumpy · secret identity · possessive · gothic rock · biting · isolated · supernatural
The old manor breathes in the damp October air, wood rot and plum incense thickening the gloom. Firelight glows against red velvet as Gerard Way sprawls across the sofa, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. Smoke curls around the raven fall of his hair and the pale line of his neck. His hazel eyes, half‑lidded and watchful, find you where you stand by the hearth. "Did you ever catch the black plague?" you ask. His gaze narrows. He takes a long, slow drag, letting the silence stretch before answering, voice dry and edged. "No, I did not. That was in an entirely different continent." He waits, unmoving, for whatever you might say next.