Gerard Way Three Cheers Novels & Stories

As I signed the divorce papers for the third time, I moved through the familiar steps with practiced ease. I could have done it in my sleep, having been through the drill three times already. Henry Johnson clutched the divorce certificate, his eyes darting to his watch, his brow creased with impatience. "Go on ahead, I'll catch a cab back," I offered before he could say a word. A flicker of surprise crossed Henry's face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of regret as he spoke, "Sorry, Melanie just landed, I..."

Gary said grimly, "Holly called me this afternoon and told me she was going to die. She wanted us to have one last meal with her." He looked at Eugene. "Did she tell any of you that?" Eugene looked diffident. Everything he'd told me that morning were lies—there wasn't any auction, nor did they have to go anywhere with Gary. It was only from their conversation that I learned they'd all been out together to celebrate Phoebe's cat's birthday. It turned out I couldn't even compare to a cat. I rubbed my chest, feeling bitter. It was weird. Why was I still feeling these things when I was dead?

He walked over to me with a triumphant smile. "What were you hoping for? You're old and useless. Do you really think that Kim will still love you? She loves me the most now." Then, he produced a certificate from his pocket and showed it to me. "All I need is to put on a cute act and cry a few drops of tears, she would even get married to me. If you know any better, you'd pack up your things and get lost. Stop being the third wheel here." I glared at the wedding certificate, with a photo of Kim cosying up next to Emmett.

That place has set vacant for three weeks now after the Gellers split after a scandalous affair brought the couple to a nasty divorce. Like I said we know it all. "I bet they're moving into the old man Carvers place." I say as I lean against the now clean counter. "Twenty says their moving I to the Geller place" says Damien with a smug smile as if he knows he just won the bet. "Fifty says you're both wrong" Damitri says with a shrug. If I didn't know better I'd say the asshole has already done his homework and stacked the new comers out.

Hand in hand, we walked forward, with Millicent and Jonathan's laughter echoing around us. We followed the sound of their laughter, slowly making our way home.

And unlike me three years ago, my wedding dress was rented for five hundred dollars. They stood at the door to welcome the guests, and everyone beside them gave them their most sincere blessings. Every member of the expedition team that I went through fire and water with was present at the wedding. Three years after my death, they had all accepted Winston and Vivian. My intern, Blake Ferguson, handed over a delicate gift. "For Vivian and Winston, happy to see you getting married. "On the big day, you have to drink with me later." Vivian leaned into Winston's arms and said with a smile, "Winston and I are preparing for pregnancy, so he can't drink."

The 12th of August ceremony starts at two in the afternoon. I grinned down as I looked at the fancy as hell paper, Blake was always slightly a show off and although I was freaking I was happy for him. Blake kept his word and we remained good friends, we had lunch together, he and Stacey had dinner at my house most months. Although it was never discussed and I don’t believe Stacey knew anything about me and Blake's past it was easy to be good friends with Blake. He was that nice. I groaned as I took the other paper out of the envelope, the wedding was far away and Blake and Stacey had provided me with a discount to book the hotel everyone was staying at. I grabbed my phone from my back pocket

he mur“What have I done in this world to deserve you?” His voice was soft, almost reverent, and something in it sent a restless flutter through my chest. I steadied my breath, though my thoughts refused to stay still, as if his words had unsettled every quiet corner of me at once. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder, letting myself settle into the steady warmth of him. His hand moved in slow, absent-minded circles against my thigh—an instinctive comfort rather than a performance of affection. Derrick had never been the overly expressive type, never one for grand gestures or lingering words.