Chapter Text
The first few days were always the hardest, especially for Gerard Way. He dragged himself up the front steps, exhausted from another sleepless night. His head spun with every movement, making the nausea sitting in his stomach even worse. As a Jersey teen himself - he liked to drink up from time to time. Cheap wine was his favorite, but the head spinning could almost make him collapse on the stairs he slowly climbed. Growing up in Jersey City, he'd learned to expect the worst from people - ready for whatever came next, though adults weren't the one's that he was most afraid of. It was the kids living here, wearing kitschy, scratchy uniforms and being way too unpredictable, most of them made him sweat bullets. If the company would drag longer than a school day, he would probably end up dehydrated.
Not long ago, he also used to be one of them, fitting right in - loud, unruly and probably drunk. Him and his friends didn't have a care in the world or others around. Yelling at people they didn't know, filming Karens at supermarkets and even smuggling something out of a shop from time to time. All this made his blood run cold with adrenaline. He did this to make himself look cooler, at least cooler than his younger brother, who didn't leave the house at all.
It's not that he didn't have a softer side back then, of course all that alcohol made him anxious - but he had one thing that really calmed him down. He would look at the sky, even the ugly, grey one gathering all around the Jersey City. He admired buildings, plants and people around him (that's not that cool, huh?). He turned with all of his problems to art, he liked all of it, but drawing was the one medium he usually chose. The soft strokes on the paper made him simmer down.
So even now - he focused on the building, spitting out all the information he could muster about the time it was build and the overall style.
This place was peak architecture. Red brick walls, steep roofs, towering windows, delicate stucco details. All burned into his memory, they would later become his next sketches. He counted windows, looked at the symmetry and envisioned drawings. "Mikey would have loved this building." He thought. Anything was better than living in the present for Gerard. If he had the choice, he'd already be somewhere else entirely - walking through the eighteenth century, admiring Georgian facades instead of worrying about another first day. Maybe he'd become the next Jacques-Louis David.
Finally, after looking at the outside for way too long, he took his first step into the unwelcoming hallways.
His face instantly got hit with parched, but warm air, making his mouth go completely dry. Students buzzed just like a swarm of bees, gathering by the nearest lockers. He must have been standing in the doorway for way too long, because someone’s shoulder just slammed into him. "I'm sorry." He muttered, but to be honest, no one have heard it, and even if someone did, they probably didn't care to respond back. Swallowing his overall anxiety, he decided he has to get to the headmaster's office. As much as confused he felt in the surrounding, he didn't feel like asking for directions. Instead, he wandered around the old school halls- the architectural aspect really made it a little more fun for him.
It took him little to no time to appear in the headmaster's office, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He did that so many times in his old school, that it almost felt like his usual routine, even in unfamiliar place like this.
"Come in." Said the low-pitched voice from the other side of the door, catching Gerard off guard. The conversation he had with his mother a few days ago dawned on him suddenly. The principal was a man of manifold interests, but most of them in arts- just like Gerard. When he learned of Mikey's death, he felt compelled to admit Gerard to his school and guarantee him a better education.
Gerard didn't want anyone to pity him. He was scared of the change that came with death, he just wanted to be treated as before, his life to be the same. It felt weird for him now that people gathered interest in his existence. He grabbed the handle and went through the door. The principal looked at him expectantly.
"Please, take a seat Gerard." He said pointing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
Gerard stepped inside and immediately noticed how different the office looked from the rest of the school. Tall windows stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, letting warm sunlight spill across the wooden floorboards. The room smelled faintly of old books, coffee, and paint. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with novels, thick binders, and framed photographs from decades of school events. Unlike the offices Gerard had seen before, this one didn't feel cold or sterile. Paintings of varying styles hung on the walls- some abstract, others detailed landscapes. A half finished canvas rested on an easel in the corner, while a collection of vinyl records occupied an entire shelf nearby. The principal's desk stood in the center of the room. It was large and made of dark oak, though the surface was cluttered with papers, sketchbooks, mugs, and several pens scattered in no apparent order. Behind it sat a worn leather chair that looked almost as old as the building itself.
For a moment, Gerard forgot he was standing in a principal's office. The place felt more like an artist's studio that happened to contain a desk.
"I had a talk with your mother, how are you holding up?" He continued a second later, when faced with no reply. Principal didn't seem like a bad person- he wore warm toned clothing and looked like a loving grandma. Gerard was just clearly not in the mood for talking, especially about what happened.
"I have one more thing I need to tell you." The principal said with a sigh. "Today you're gonna have your first session with a school psychologist- room 208 after your last lesson." For a moment Gerard just stared at him as his jaw tightened. He couldn't believe his ears, his mother didn't say a word about this.
"I'm fine, I talk with my mom about this." He said flatly. The principal opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but Gerard had already snatched the timetable from his desk.
"Gerard-"
"Thank you." The words came out sharp and unexpected, he didn't mean to be rude. He stood up and rushed off to his first class. His thoughts were racing, and he was breathing heavily by the time he reached the classroom. He didn't want to be so unpleasant- the principal was just doing his job, and Gerard would respect that or at least he wanted to. He wiped his sweaty hands against the sides of his jeans and stepped inside.
The class was already packed full of chatting teenagers. The moment he entered, the room fell into an awkward silence. Gerard felt every eye on him as he made his way towards an empty desk. At the front, the teacher was still sorting through a messy stack of papers, trying to bring order- not only to the desk, but to the classroom itself. Only when the quiet settled did he look up.
“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Mr. Miller.” The teacher said, glancing straight at Gerard. “Could you introduce yourself to the class, please?” It wasn’t really a question.
Gerard stood up, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m Gerard Way. I’m new here.-” He sat down almost immediately afterwards, feeling strangely exposed for no reason. For a few seconds he sat frozen, as if he hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that everything around him had changed so suddenly. He needed to adapt to life on his own. Less attachment only meant less pain. Mr. Miller thanked Gerard and moved on without hesitation, shifting the class's attention straight into Shakespeare, which only made his classmates behave louder. Gerard to be honest- barely noticed the transition. His mind was still somewhere between the principal’s office and the public humiliation he just endured.
The lesson was boring and undemanding for Gerard, every second dragged on by eternity. Once he felt sufficiently secure in the unfamiliar classroom, he took out the sketchbook he always carried with him and began sketching the outside of the school building he admired this very morning. The sketch was almost feather-light, like he was scared that someone would try to prey onto what he was doing, rather than interpreting Macbeth.
Before he knew, the lesson ended, leaving him with less shame than when it started and a new sketch.
The hallways seemed like both worst and the best parts of the school day. The teens seemed to be pushing the boundaries of noise; shouting over one another and creating a massive din that engulfed those short breaks. But Gerard always found calm in observing people- letting himself blend into the background. He walked slowly, sketchbook tucked under his arm, taking in his surroundings. Some people stood near the lockers, laughing way too loud- other one's being quiet and scanning the scene just like him, probably waiting for some juicy gossip to drop. Gerard never liked gossip, in his opinion it just ruined everyone's life.
Gerard was sincerely pleased about how the school looked, it was visible the principal put all of his heart into this place, no wonder this historic building was given into his hands with no hesitation. It was even fairly cleaner than any school he's ever been to. Before he knew; he had to get going to the rest of his classes- repeating the same cycle; introducing and a second later- indulging into the broad world of arts. Gerard's anger also settled down by the end of the day, only making a little comeback every time he thought about therapy session he has to go through by the end of the day. He hated when people who didn't even try expected him to spill his guts. He hated the amount of money they took just for nothing to change. He hated that it was pressured on him. Even though the anger bubbled inside of him, he managed to take a couple of deep breaths and wander down the hallway to Room 208.
The closer he got, the more posters about depression and anxiety he passed. Even the door was obnoxious, painted like a field of flowers- to symbolize calm and peace of mind. Hardened by the day's events Gerard knocked without hesitation. There was no reply, but he didn't have time- he just wanted to get home as soon as he possibly could. So he bursts into the small room; finding no one inside. The room was smaller than he expected and freakishly clean. White light shined from the ceiling panels, sharp and bad for eye sight. There was also a desk in the corner- dark wood, perfectly aligned papers, a closed laptop. Two chairs faced each other in the middle of the room, placed with careful distance, like whoever designed them probably had OCD themselves. Books lined the shelf behind the desk, their spines cracked and loved. Gerard's thoughts were soon interrupted by the slamming of a door.
Mr. Collins was an older man, his face marked with a few soft wrinkles. His hair was neatly brushed to the side, his expression calm, almost unreadable. The only thing that stood out was his shirt- white, perfectly ironed. Everything about him felt ordered.
"Sorry about that," he said gently as he sat down. "Paperwork." He placed a small stress ball on the desk and turned it absently in his hand. "We can just have fun today." he added. "First days are usually heavy enough on their own. UNO?" Before Gerard could react, Collins pulled out a worn deck of UNO cards and began dealing them. Gerard let out a short breath through his nose- he didn't came here to play.
"It’s pointless."
Collins didn’t react to that and the game started anyway. It was quick- cards moving back and forth, colors changing, silence stretching between them. Gerard played like he had something to prove, fast and sharp, eyes fixed on the table as if losing meant something personal. Which in the end made him win.
Collins gathered the cards, shuffling slowly, but skillfully. "I don’t like unpredictable things either." he said casually, almost as if thinking aloud. "They tend to make people feel unsafe."
"Anything more you like to do?"
"Drawing." The older man looked pleasantly surprised with Gerard's respond. Did everyone here had a weird thing for arts? "You noticed the posters outside of the room?" Older man added, looking expectantly at the boy. He must have been proud of them.
Gerard let out a quiet, humorless breath. "They’re... very noticeable." Those posters drew his attention even earlier, they weren't only outside of the room, but also scattered all across the hallway leading to the room. Since when depression was portrayed in such colorful way?
"Students made them for me." Collins said simply. Gerard didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as he imagined it. He made his therapist loose so many times to him, which next led to the end of the session. Collins didn't want to ground Gerard here for a whole hour, he liked to build his bonds carefully and slowly. He needed to understand his patient. He needed Gerard to like him first. Gerard soon enough muttered a quick goodbye and headed towards the door. "Tomorrow before school!-" He heard before slamming the door shut behind him.
By the time the session ended, the halls had gone quiet. Most students had already left, leaving behind only the occasional echo of footsteps and the distant hum of exit lights. The school felt different without people in it. Less threatening and almost peaceful. Gerard adjusted the strap of his backpack and headed for the front entrance. The session had gone about as expected. A deck of UNO cards wasn't enough to fool him into thinking therapy was useful. Mr. Collins had been nice, sure. The kind of nice adults became when they knew something was wrong but yet didn't know how to fix it. At least he hadn't asked about Mikey. That alone made him more tolerable than most. His sneakers squeaked softly against the polished floor as he passed rows of empty lockers. The afternoon sun stretched through the tall windows, painting long rectangles of gold across the hallway. For a moment, he found himself studying the shadows instead of watching where he was going, until a door clicked shut somewhere behind him. Gerard glanced over his shoulder. Someone else was heading toward the exit and it wasn't a student. He was too old, but too... cool to be a teacher. How come Gerard hadn't notice him before? The guy walked with the kind of confidence that made it seem like he belonged wherever he happened to be. Dark clothes, tattoos disappearing beneath rolled sleeves. A messenger bag slung carelessly over one shoulder and even messier black hair. He looked more like a musician than somebody who worked in a school. Gerard looked away before he got caught staring.
Outside, the evening air hit him immediately- cool and damp. He had barely made it down the front steps when a voice called out behind him.
"Hey." Gerard turned. The guy from the hallway stood a few feet away, digging through his pockets.
"You got a light?"
"No."
The stranger then sighed dramatically. "Figures." Then he pulled an unopened pack of cigarettes from his jacket. Gerard should've already left. Instead, he found himself watching for another second. The guy looked ridiculous. But somehow also cool as hell. Not in the polished way people at school tried to be, just effortlessly, like he genuinely didn't care what anybody thought. The stranger finally looked up. Their eyes met for half a second.
"Have a good one, kid." Gerard immediately looked away, nodded and started walking. A few blocks later, he realized he was still thinking about the guy with the cigarettes. Which was annoying. Because he couldn't remember the last time a stranger had managed to stick in his head.