Action Cat (Gerard Way X Reader)

Love Was Just A Passing Phase

TW: overdose (kinda/mentioned), slight manipulation, addiction, slight body horror, arguing, suicide (mentioned)

A/N: last chapter before the epilogue/final chapter RAAAH (anywayz imma go get my tattoo now byyye)

YOUR POV:

The final day of Warped Tour couldn't have come any sooner. After everything that's been going on, I realized that I wasn't okay. I knew all along, I mean, you don't take a shit ton of pills to try and overdose for no reason.

I had ignored the problem for too long.

I used the pills to help me forget my problems. I used them as a way to escape, but in the end, I did more harm to myself than good.

I was an addict, and I needed help.

I needed to get away from the source of the problem—Gerard.

I sat on the tour bus as I scoured the internet on Ray's laptop for a cheap flight back to New Jersey, but everything was ungodly expensive.

"Flights back home?" I hear behind me as a pair of arms wrap themselves around my shoulders. I knew who it was already by the voice and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol.

"Y-Yeah," I nod.

"Why're you looking for flights?" Gerard asks me.

"It's the last day of Warped," I admit. "I need a flight back h—," I started to say 'home,' but New Jersey wasn't my home anymore. Was it actually ever my home? "—to New Jersey."

Gerard reaches forward and shuts the laptop, "you don't need to look for a flight. You're staying with us on tour."

"I am?" I asked, feeling disappointed.

"Mhm," Gerard hums as he nuzzles into my neck. "You're staying with me, baby girl."

I cringed at the pet name.

The door to bus opens, "Gerard?" A voice calls out as we look to see Ray standing by the door.

"Hey," Gerard lazily greets.

"Soundcheck is fixing to start," Ray says to him, "come on."

Gerard groans and pulls himself away from me, "okay...whatever." He quickly kisses my cheek before he follows Ray off the bus, and the door slams shut.

I glanced at the closed laptop with a frown. I suddenly felt trapped.

It was like he was a spider who had created a beautiful web, and I was some helpless and defenseless butterfly who got trapped in his web of darkness.

I couldn't escape, and it felt like I was suffocating.

I got up and rushed to grab the bottle of Xanax from its hiding place. I held the pill bottle in my hand, but I hesitated. Despite my body begging me for the euphoria it so desperately craved, I couldn't give in.

I set the bottle on the counter as I moved to grab my sketchbook out of my bag. I slammed it on the table and began to draw out how I was feeling. It was hard, and it felt more like scribbles than something bigger.

I was never one to convey my emotions through art, and I usually would just curl up into a ball and cry. But recently, taking pills had been my outlet for everything.

It was a bad habit I needed to break.

I needed to break this cycle of abuse.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed while I drew, but I found myself crying and my page was stained with teardrops.