Another Way | Adopted by Gerard Way (Book Three)

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Gerard had asked Harley to stay home and suggested that her friends come over tomorrow, instead, even though they were probably going to do that anyway. A 'quiet day,' he'd called it, but Harley could tell there was something more behind his smile.

She'd agreed despite how empty she still felt after leaving the art museum the day prior. She knew that seeing her friends happy, Remi most of all because it was seldom she laughed out loud, could help fill that void. Still, she didn't feel like protesting; her nightmares were taking the fight out of her.

At least this way she'd had a good excuse when Mason had texted her bright and early, asking to hang out. She was beginning to grow numb towards his endless questioning about what she'd be doing, who she'd be with, and how long she'd be away. Besides, she'd never been in a relationship before, so she could only guess that this clinginess was normal.

She was in her room, reading Evelyn's old diary despite how painful it was as she'd taken to doing whenever she had time to herself, sitting on the floor against the foot of her bed. She felt the start of a headache pulsing lightly in her temples and the back of her head, which she rested uncomfortably on the bedframe as she hunched over Evelyn's shaky writing.

She turned a page, holding the book open on the floor, ignoring the headache.

January 14th 2007,

I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna, die, I wanna die,

It covered the entire page, front and back, and in spite of herself, Harley read every word. She knew two lines in that she wouldn't find a single discrepancy between those three repeated words, nor a secret code between the lines that twisted the meaning and made it a little less gutting.

She slammed the book shut like the page was going to open a mouth of razor sharp white teeth and swallow her. She replaced everything she'd taken out of the box neatly, then left her room. Her back against the bedframe was beginning to get sore and her headache wasn't getting any better.

Everything in the hallway was silent, but the rich smell of coffee wafted through Gerard's office door which he'd left ajar. He thought it was more welcoming that way; if Harley ever wanted to come in, his door was always open. A few seconds later she discovered that there were no painkillers to be found in the bathroom cabinets. A few seconds after that she discovered she'd run out of pads in the box she'd tucked in a corner of a bottom cabinet.

"Fuck, shit, ass, bitch, fiddlesticks," she said under her breath, folding about a dozen squares of toilet paper for a makeshift pad. She added even more quietly, "Why the fuck did I say fiddlesticks?"

The first few steps out of the bathroom were self conscious ones, and the last towards her room were taken at a run even though she knew she wasn't going to find a spare box in her suitcase no matter how frantic and desperate she was; the empty one was the spare.

"What are you running from?" Gerard asked, leaving his office just before she crossed the threshold into her room.

Harley turned slowly to see him standing in the hallway, steaming mug of coffee in pencil lead-smudged hand, a confused yet amused expression on his face.

"Myself," she deadpanned.

The amusement dropped off Gerard's face, leaving only confusion. "I don't think I can help you with that one."

"No, uh," Harley stammered, her face turning red, "I don't even know." Her fingers met and began twisting.

Gerard looked down at her nervous hands, looked up at her blush, and said, "Okay, now I know something's going on. What's up?"