The Adventures of Gerard Way Vs. His Hair.

It started with an itch; a mere itch on Gerard's scalp. Gerard was used to his head itching; between the lack of washing it and the constant hair dying, itching practically came with the territory. Therefore, when his head began to itch as he waited for fifteen minutes to pass, he ignored it and merely concentrated harder on the tattered comic book he was absently flipping through. His head was covered up with a gray towel, already streaked with various colors of dye. His forehead was dotted with specks of red; even though he had dyed his hair countless times, Gerard still made a mess.

As the minutes slowly ticked by, Gerard's scalp got itchier and itchier. Furrowing his brow, he continued to concentrate on the book, staring at the words with such intensity that they actually started to blur. When he finally blinked, he quickly rubbed his knuckles against the towel, hoping that it would relieve the itching.

It didn't. It only got worse.

Gerard knew something was wrong. This had never happened to him; his head was actually starting to burn. Desperate, he scratched at the towel, willing the itching to please just fucking stop!

Once again, it didn't. Gerard's hair was having a field day; while he cringed and whimpered, tears falling from his eyes, it laughed and only upped the pain, laughing even harder as Gerard actually cried out loud, flinging the towel across the room and attacking his scalp with his fingernails. As his fingers grew redder from the hair dye, his scalp grew redder from the growing irritation. Soon afterwards, blood began to drip from his pores, collecting underneath his fingernails along with the dye and flakes of skin.

He couldn't do it anymore. Getting up from the arm chair he had been sitting in, he ran to the bathroom, fingers still entangled in his hair. Cranking the shower on, he jumped in fully clothed, sighing with relief as the cold water hit his burning scalp. He didn't even mind that his jeans were going to be nearly impossible to peel off once he'd gotten out; he was too preoccupied with the fact that his head had stopped burning.

"Thank God!" he said, the words bouncing off the tiled walls. Running a hand through his now soaked hair, dye running down his shirt, he actually laughed with relief. It must have been a bad box, he assured himself, that was it. It had probably been sitting around too long. He made a note to call the producer of the dye and yell at them, just to feel better. Yes, that's what he would do.

Gerard's hair wasn't done with him yet. It had decided that Gerard had suffered enough physical pain; his scalp was the same color as his hair and gouged with marks from Gerard's nails, after all. However, his hair knew that this wasn't enough. Although it couldn't read his mind, it just knew that Gerard was going to find a 'logical' explanation for his burning scalp. It knew that, in another few weeks, he would attack again.

No, Gerard's hair needed to leave a permanent mark on him, something that he could absolutely not misconstrue in any other way.

It had an idea.

By this point, Gerard had stepped out of the shower and was drying his hair off with the towel he had retrieved from the living room. He was hoping that the dye had been able to set a bit before it was all rinsed out so, after his head was dry, he whipped the towel off and stared into the mirror, only to have his face contort in horror.

His hair was falling out.

Near his left temple, there was a visible bald spot that couldn't be hid no matter how he flipped his hair. When he glanced back down at the towel, it was filled with long red strands. Small noises fell from his mouth and, out of instinct, his hands flew to his head, clutching tightly.

This was a bad idea. When Gerard pulled his hands away, more pieces of hair clung to his fingertips or fell into the sink. The bald spot had gotten bigger, extending up towards the middle of his head. There were other sections where he could see his scalp through the few pieces of hair that still remained.

Actual tears dripped from his eyes as he clutched the edge of the sink, nose to nose with his reflection in the mirror. Even without touching his hair, more of it was falling out, covering the general vicinity in a fine carpet of red.

"No," he whispered, watching as a strand of hair fell before his eyes to land on the faucet. "This isn't happening."

Obviously, it was happening. After five minutes, Gerard finally managed to tear his eyes away, casting them around the bathroom. They finally settled on a unopened box that had been gathering dust on the top of his cabinet for months. It had been a birthday gift from Mikey, a 'gag' before he received his actual present.

It was an electric razor.

Gerard tentatively took the box down from the cabinet and stared at it for a few moments, feeling more hair fall from his head. He had never considered using the damn thing before; him and Mikey had laughed hysterically about it after Gerard had unwrapped it, saying that the chance of him using it was about the same as hell freezing over.

Apparently, hell was about to freeze over.

Tears starting up again, he pulled the razor from the box and stared at it for a few moments. It was a shiny, modern looking device, packaged with about a dozen different heads for specialty trimming. When he pushed the button to turn it on, the buzzing filled the small room, blocking out the sound of his sigh.

As Gerard ran the razor over his head, eyes still dripping, his hair laughed even as it slid down the drain. It laughed while the last few remaining strands of it fell to the floor and it laughed as Gerard's bare scalp glowed under the florescent light.

It laughed because, after years and years of torture, it had finally proven that it was a force to be reckoned with. It had proven that it wasn't just a patsy who would sit by and take everything that was thrown its way.

Most of all, it had proven that Gerard didn't control it. It controlled Gerard.

And after 'the incident,' it always would.