Another Way | Adopted by Gerard Way (Book Three)

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Harley spent the night tossing and turning, phasing in and out of sleep, anxiety twisting her stomach painfully very often. When the sun finally made its appearance that morning, though, she was thankful.She hadn't been able to turn off her brain long enough to get more than three hours of sleep. Mostly, those thoughts had been of what her friends had told her about Mason and the subsequent mental tug-of-war she found herself in; trusting the Mason she knew and dismissing what she'd been told, or taking into account the seriousness and genuine bitterness in her friends' voices when they spat that boy's name.

She sat up in bed dazedly and drew the curtains back, letting herself be blinded by the natural light flooding the room. She hoped it would would help wake her up, but, of course, it didn't.

The last time she felt this haggard was when she'd just gotten over a bout of flu and slept for nearly an entire day. She wished she could sink back down into the warm sheets and drift back to sleep, maybe for longer than a day this time. It was Friday, though, and Friday meant the day of the check-up where she'd hopefully be told she could stop wearing the splint on her wrist.

She pulled the blankets off her body with one tired hand and forced herself out of bed, feeling as though there were weights tied to her ankles as she trudged to her to her wardrobe to pick out an outfit for the day, and then to the bathroom to shower. She was almost shocked to hear how light her feet were on the floor instead of a metallic clunking with every step. She needed the pounding hot water to wake her up since the sun hadn't done the job.

Starting yet another day in an exhausted, zombie-like state would make Gerard's suspicion that something was wrong reasonable. He'd definitely pry, Harley guessed, and that was the last thing she wanted him to do. She understood that he cared, and she appreciated it, but it wasn't what she was used to. She was used to being left alone because her parents knew she was independent, and if she really needed to talk, she would—not that she ever felt like her problems were worthy of raising. So, usually she'd suppress whatever was plaguing her under a layer of false confidence and forget about it. And, if she was being honest, Gerard's speeches about opening up and trusting him got old quickly. She couldn't tell him that, though; that would be cruel.

Harley's shower only ended up being a few minutes long when she realized that the effort in waking herself up was futile. If anything, the hot water was sending her back to sleep; the heat enveloping her back and running down her skin was like a warm hug. Her back to the bathroom mirror, she dried off and got dressed swiftly, then she spun around. The glass squeaked as she wiped the condensation from the mirror with a corner of her white, fluffy towel.

She looked at herself, brushed her damp hair back with a comb. She wore a Radiohead T-shirt and grey sweatpants and the black splint on her wrist stuck out obnoxiously. She smiled at her reflection, but it didn't meet her eyes with the purple stain underneath. Her face fell again, but then she smiled a second time. This time she managed to make her eyes brighten a little, with small wrinkles appearing at the corners. It looked genuine and as though she hadn't just been flipping in and out of troubled consciousness for hours.

She breathed out deeply, told herself everything was fine under her breath, then left the bathroom.

Down in the dining room, Gerard was setting the table. In the center of it was every variety of cereal in the house, oat milk because he knew that was the type Evelyn and Emerald bought, and bowls of sliced fruits. He stepped back and scanned his eyes across the table, but his admiration of it was cut short when he instinctively turned his head toward the sound of footsteps approaching the room.