Bad Blood. (Gerard Way x Reader)

21: The Weekend

~Yet another time skip to Friday afternoon~

((TW: Cliche, but needed. Self harm. this might get emotional, get some fuckin popcorn))

I unlock my front door, and Frank runs to the couch right away. "Man, ever since Monday we've been through all 7 classes. What propaganda bullshit is this?" I crash down next to him. "Not to mention Gerard only got into ONE fight this week.. so boring." He turns on Netflix. 

Gerard sits next to me, and he has a sad look on his face, but a small smile. Didn't know that was... possible.

"You look sad. Whats wrong?" I ask, in the tone you speak to a dog. "I'm  just tired, I guess." He doesn't change his expression. "Take a nap then, dumbass." Frank chimes in. (Don't make a panic reference, I see you running to the comments..) "Thanks Frank, gonna go do that." He stands up, and walks upstairs. "Okay, that was weird. He wasn't his usual sass queen self." I look back at Frank. "Go check on him in 10 minutes, make sure he's not like.. killing himself." He sounds like he's joking, but he has a point. I did leave him an emotional wreck when I got with Mikey.

10 Minutes pass, and I only know that because I set a timer on my watch.

~BEEP, BEEP~

I click the button to shut it up, and step up the stairs. Slowly, with each creak of my step, I feel more worried as to what he's doing. 

I knock on his door, and no response. "Gerard?" I knock again, and to my avail.. nothing. "Gerard, i'm coming in." I slowly open the door, and he yells "Don't!"

Too late.

He's in the corner of the room, hugging his knees to his chest, with something behind his back. "Hey Gerard.. what're you doing?" I slowly walk towards him, and sit down next to him. "n-nothing." He has a startled tone to his voice. "Let. Me. See." I reach for his arm, and he quickly retracts it. "I think I know what you're doing, Gerard." I point to the blade that he dropped on the ground, and he quickly picks it up and sets it on his dresser.  I reach for his sleeve, and he doesn't hesitate. 

Slowly rolling his sleeve up, I see the signs of an emotionally injured person.

"I-I'm sorry, y/n." 

"Im so sorry." A tear drops down, and he cries into my chest.

"Why apologize to me? I know exactly what you're going through." I roll my sleeve up, and reveal 10 years of emotional, and physical abuse.  "Just another thing we have in common, i guess." He smirks a bit, but the atmosphere stays sad. 

...

"Did I ever tell you why I moved from Washington to Jersey?" I lean back against the wall, but turn my head to him. He shakes his head no. 

"Well, my mom divorced my dad after 13 years, but 10 years of abuse. The particular accident that set her over the line was when he smashed a glass beer bottle over my head in hopes of murdering me." I laugh a little and show him the scar, mostly at the memory of him saying he'd never hurt me for the world. That was a fucking lie. 

Gerard had a stunned look on his face, and brushes the scar with his thumb. It didn't hurt, since it had been like.. 3 months? Who knows.  "Well, i'm glad it didn't work." We both give a forced small laugh, and he kisses my forehead. "Thank you, y/n."