Well it rains and it pours when he's out on his own. If he crashes on the couch then he sleeps in his clothes. And if it looks like he's laughing, he's really just asking to leave.
You're the one that he needs, the one that he loathes.
Gerard was pretty elusive. The lead singer of My Chemical Romance, hiding from the sun like it would burn him. It didn't, he just didn't like being awake. But there was truth to all the vampire lyrics. Frank knew it. You knew it. Gerard was damn well a vampire, anyone could tell just by looking at him. But the lyrics of The Sharpest Lives held more truth than he would ever outright say.
He had been crashing at your place for a few months on and off. It was better than his parents basement, or franks living room. He preferred your couch, old and broken in. Comfy, with a heated blanket. He would often times show up unannounced. Him and Frank had always been brothers to you, so you never complained when he stayed for a week at a time, silently slipping in like a shadow. You'd find him curled up on the couch early in the morning when he wasn't there when you went to bed.
And secretly, he loved how you welcomed him in. How you let him use your makeup, wear your hoodies that smelled like you. Even your favorite hoodie with SEXTAPE written across the front was up for grabs. But he was catching feelings hard, which didn't help with his lack of blood. He hadn't been feeding on anyone's blood in months, which left him more tired than usual. As for why he didn't, well, that was simple. His hopeless romantic ass only wanted to feed off of the one he was in love with. But god, he didn't want to hurt you. He knew that you knew about his little vampire secret, his true nature. And you couldn't have cared less.
You could take all the pain away from him, but everyone knows that the sharpest lives were the deadliest to lead.
'So you can leave like the sane abandoned me.' The words echoed in his head from that damned song the day you asked him why he never got too close to you. Like he was afraid of your touch, while he secretly craved it like a drug addict. You were too trusting, and that was going to get you killed.
God, he wanted nothing more than to lay with you, covered in your blood, as morbid as it sounded. To play with his hair while his eyes glazed over, mouth to your shoulder and body pressed tightly against yours.
Gerard silently slid into your apartment on a Friday night, around 2am. To his suprise, you were still awake. He took his shoes off by the front door and found the couch already made for him, the heated blanket turned up to the max and the blackout curtains pulled down. Like you were waiting for him to show up. The paleness of his alabaster skin hid the flush on his cheeks. That man loved warm things. His temperature ran unnaturally cold, so he was a sucker for any sort of warmth he could get.
"Hey.. uh, didn't think you'd still be up." He said quietly, hazel eyes flicking over to you as he made his way over to the couch.