Action Cat (Gerard Way X Reader)

It Was A Lie When They Smiled

TW: arguing, forcing Gerard to go to therapy simulator, alcohol, pills, Xanax (mentioned), mentions of self destruction

YOUR POV:

Ah yes, New Jersey. How I missed you.

I missed seeing the homeless man on the corner walk up to strangers and ask for a cigarette. I missed hearing the police sirens go off at three in the morning. I missed hearing about the murders that happened just a few streets over.

We returned to New Jersey from California about three days ago. Gerard never spoke about what happened on his run away adventure, nor did he speak about it after he woke up.

I honestly wasn't sure if he remembered any of it.

Frank apologized to Gerard about his words and behavior, and Gerard just waved him off with a curt 'apology accepted.'

Anyway, we were now living back in the basement of his parent's place and, wow, have I missed this place.

I missed the dinginess of the basement and how dark it was. I missed the shitty painted walls and the lights that only worked half of the time. I missed the comforting smell of the basement that kinda smelled like mold. I missed the cotton candy shower walls. The silly little memorabilia that Gerard collected of all his interests and hyper fixations. Not to mention our conjoined art supply collection and the numerous canvas's in the corner near my desk. I missed the couch that was probably found on the side of the road and never washed, but more importantly, I missed our bed.

Our bed was in the corner of the basement and I always slept closest to the wall while Gerard took the outside. The bed sheets were definitely not clean and hadn't been changed out in around a month and a half. It was gross, but Gerard didn't want to change them and I sure hell couldn't care less if I was sleeping on the plain mattress or on top of sheets.

When we returned home, it took some time to adjust back to the time zone. California was three hours behind New Jersey, so being ahead of time kinda fucked with us for a bit.

But we adjusted and were fully back in the swing of things...well, for the most part. Gerard still refused to go to therapy.

Gerard and I were in the main part of the house in the living room. He was sitting on the couch with a cigarette in his hand and I crossed my arms in front of him. He was pouting like a child.

"I'm not going to therapy. I'm perfectly fine! Besides," he takes a drag of his cigarette before he blows it out of his mouth, "my therapist even helping."

"Gerard, you have to go to therapy," I state.

He scoffs, "why? It's not like it matters. It's not helping me."

"It's not helping because you won't open up," I clarify. "If you just opened up a little and talked to them, then—."

Gerard groans, "can't you just shut up about therapy? I'm not fucking going and that's final!"

"That's not an option," I quipped.

"Damn right it's an option," Gerard argues back as he takes another drag.

"Okay, well, last I checked, you're not the one paying for it," I sassed. "I am."

Was it a smart idea to use all my commission money to send Gerard (who didn't even want to go) to therapy? No, not at all. Therapy is expensive, and even more so when the person attending is a brat and refuses to open up.

It was a waste of time, but maybe one day he'd actually crack and open up. That tiny bit of hope was enough for me.

"That's the only reason I'm going, isn't it?" Gerard asks me. "I'm only going because Y/N put all the expenses on herself." Gerard takes another drag and blows the smoke up into my face as I swat it away. "Why not cancel it? That way you can keep what little money you earn, and I can stop listening to you go on about therapy."