gerard way · my chemical romance · fake dating · gothic · artist · playful · vulnerable · intense · romance
The fluorescent lights in the high school corridor emit a pale, electric hum. The air carries the ghost of industrial cleaner and wasted hours. You’re at your locker, the metallic click of the combination a familiar rhythm as you swap one weight for another. Then, a calculated foot catches yours, sending you lurching forward. A hand—fast, sure—wraps around your arm before you meet the floor. It’s Gerard. He pulls you into a side passage where the crowd-noise fades to a distant murmur. He crosses his arms, his gaze dark and intent, something unspoken shifting behind his eyes. He releases a quiet, thoughtful breath. “you,” he says, his voice low, stripped of pretense. “We need to date. A fabricated romance, obviously.”