Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Leading a Double Life

Leading a Double Life

by ThreeCheersForMCR_x 4 Reviews

Gerard Way is a Loner. Bert McCracken is a Jock. Frank Iero is a social outcast with Gerard one week and part of Bert's jock clan the next. So on so forth. How does that work? [Frerard]

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2008/09/01 - Updated: 2008/09/01 - 3797 words

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Disclaimer: Unfortunately I do not own Gerard Way, Frank Iero or Bert McCracken. Just in my sad, pathetic imagination.

Prologue: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Ever wondered what it’s like to be two people at once? Or rather, to be more accurate, one person one week and someone else the next? Well that’s me- Frank and Frankie. Frank likes partying, getting high, flirting with girls and being the centre of attention while Frankie likes drawing, reading comics, watching horror movies and being invisible. Frank is loud, confident, a joker and part of the popular clique while Frankie is quiet, shy, a loser and a target for the popular clique. The complete opposites really.

Why don’t you just put both personalities together, you ask? Well, because it is virtually impossible. As I said before, both personalities are completely different. Have you ever heard of a popular loser? No, I haven’t either. But if ever does exist, I would be the first. Believe me. I don’t know why there are two parts of me that if were both in a confined space together would beat each other to a pulp. There just is. I guess, if I really thought about it, Frank was like the person that I always dreamed about being while Frankie was my old-self that I couldn’t seem to let go of. The two parts of me that could never be meshed together. How the hell can you be two separate people without people noticing, you question? How about I start from the beginning and give you my life story of how I ended up the way I am. I’ll try not to bore you, I promise.

I, Frank Anthony Iero, was born on October 31st 1992 in Belleville, New Jersey on a crisp autumn morning at 6.32 a.m in the comfort of my own home, surrounded by just my mother and father and a single maternity nurse. But it was enough as I was brought into the world with all the love and attention a newborn could possibly need. It all started off so perfect. But then the cracks started to show.

The first time I remember hearing them argue was on my third birthday when my dad didn’t show up for my birthday party. He had gone out boozing the night before with a couple of colleagues from work, as he does every Friday night, and didn’t return. Well, my mom was up till the early hours of the morning waiting for his arrival, but eventually went to sleep finally realizing he wasn’t coming home. The next day, friends and family members arrived for the party showering me with cards and gifts. I remember hearing one question in particular being constantly repeated, the only thing different was the person’s voice:

‘’Where is Daniel?’’

Each time someone asked the obvious question, my mother would plaster on a cheerful smile she gave to all of the guests and answered with an explanation she must have memorized all morning:

‘’Oh, sadly he has an important meeting with work today about ecological malfunctions in the present-day market scheme. Did you know he could get a promotion?’’

Everyone sucked it up. Including me. I guess I must have thought all those big words had to mean something. And it most probably would have stayed that way if he hadn’t stumbled in halfway through the Hokey Kokey; reeking of stale beer, wearing crumpled clothes and bloodshot eyes. It was so obvious for everyone to see that he was drunk as a skunk. Even for my three-year old self. My mother was so embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. I remember the looks on everyone’s faces; shock, pity, anger. Some even sympathetic. But I think they were more aimed at me and my mom.

That night they had the mother of all arguments. It was quite literally like World War III. The smashing of plates, foot stamping and angered shouting containing so many harsh, horrible words is what I remember of that night. I didn’t sleep, I just cried for my mommy and daddy to stop. I remember the next day as I sat in my highchair how serene the atmosphere was. My mom and dad didn’t exactly exchange a full-on conversation with each other but they managed to speak civilly. Aside from that, it was so quiet. Kind of eerie, even. I would have probably been able to forget all that happened the night before if there hadn’t been two shocking reminders staring me in the face. My dad’s eye was swollen and surrounded by a purplish bruising while my mother’s arms were covered in red marks and small, faint bruises. Once I saw those images, I knew that mommy and daddy shouldn’t be together.

Years passed and it became a sort of routine. Mom would kiss dad goodbye, dad would go to work, he wouldn’t come back till the early hours of the morning, the screaming of abuse and smashing of household objects would commence, I cried myself to sleep and then it would be morning again. And then the cycle would be repeated. And it wasn’t just my home life that sucked, school sucked too. It was impossible to decide which was worse.

At school, I would get picked on daily by thuggish kids in my class because of the way I was. The most popular insults used were ‘Skiver’, ‘Faker’, ‘Midget’ and ‘Wimp’. It depended on which they thought best described me. Because of the way my home life was, I was soon diagnosed with Anemia and Vitamin Deficiency. I found it difficult to eat because I was so depressed and upset all the time, so I ended up being under nourished, which also affected my growth. Hence me being called ‘Midget’. I had to go to regular check-ups at the hospital to see if I had improved somehow, which caused me to have to take time off school. I also got ill very easily which caused me to take even more time off school. So that would explain why kids would throw words like ‘Skiver’ and ‘Faker’ at me.

And, of course, a gang of boys would spend their precious break and lunch times to make mine long and painful. What would a school be without bullies? They would throw me against walls and poured stones and mud over my head. The worst was when they would catch a spider and purposely taunt me with it; holding it in front of my face and dangling it near me. I have a fear of spiders and they knew it. As juvenile as it sounds, they would also force me to repeat childish embarrassing, and completely false by the way, phrases like, ‘’I’m Frankie Iero and I wear pink frilly knickers.’’. Or my personal favorite, ‘’ I wear a bra even though I have three nipples.’’. Even though I was scared for my life at the time, it took all I had to not burst out laughing myself. As immature as it seemed, it was Middle School.

Time slowly dragged on. The arguments got worse and Middle School was finally coming to an end. Then surprisingly yet unsurprisingly, mom and dad decided to get a divorce. To say the least, I was over the fucking moon. The nastiness and the arguments were finally going to be over and I had finished the dreaded Middle School. Life couldn’t get any better, right? Wrong.

Going through the divorce was one of the toughest times of my life. Mom and dad were, quite literally, fighting for custody of me. Mom naturally would have me living with her whilst dad would have me on the week-ends. But dad wanted it the other way round. So in the short and short of it, they took the whole thing to court. Lawyers and everything. A real case. But they had the money so the financial side of it was fine for them. To put it nicely, mom was kicking dad’s ass. She had the upper hand on the case in the first place, being my mom and all. But my dad being an alcoholic just gave her full power. Though, bless him, he really did try. This made me feel extremely guilty and helpless for him because it proved that he really did love me, no matter how many times he’d gone off drinking and argued with mom. And he still didn’t give up.

Dad decided to go to rehab and get sober. For me. He even said so. ‘’No matter what it takes, or how long it takes, I will prove to you that I am a decent, capable father. I will do this for you, son.’’, were the words he’d said to me. And he kept to his words.

For one year it was just me and mom. It was nice and calm and, well, just ordinary really. Even though I loved my mom and was grateful that I finally had a stable home life, I missed my dad. High School was just like Middle School unfortunately. Just a grown-up version. The girls were the same, just with hair extensions and acrylic nails. The boys were the same too just with muscles and, a majority of them, facial hair. And, of course, ten hundred times more mean. It was pretty horrible. I was exactly the same person I was in Middle School; the typical outcast that didn’t fit in anywhere. But there was another kid who didn’t fit in anywhere either. His name was Gerard Way. And seeing as we both didn’t fit in and both didn’t have any friends, well, you do the math. So we hung out and realized we had a lot in common so we soon became friends. Which the progressed to best friends. And have been since that first year of High School. He really made school more endurable for me. And it was fun hanging out with him. But that still wasn’t enough.

Every day at school, I would always look at the popular kids and, part of me, wished I could be like them. School for them was easy as breathing. They ruled the school. No one dared cross them, and even if someone did, that person would soon learn never to do it again. They could just do whatever the fuck they wanted and get away with it. They never got shit on or picked on. They just owned the school. Part of me wanted this more than anything. But another part of me just wanted to be the loser that blended in with the background whose social life was with another loser and his kid brother. I was being torn in two directions; two different parts of my conscience screaming at me for two different things. That’s the beginning of the two separate Frank and Frankie.

After my first year of High School, my dad came back into my life. Sparkling like a new person. Which I guess he was, as he had gotten sober like he’d said. But that wasn’t just it. He had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (TCOJCOLDS). Yes, I am not joking. He had become a Mormon. Apparently, after he had gotten sober, he found out about the Mormon religion and decided it would make him a better person and give him a new and better direction in life. His words, not mine. So he went to a confessions meeting at TCOJCOLDS, and told all about what had happened. From the alcoholism to the failing marriage to the tough divorce to rehab to me. And said how he thinks that becoming a Mormon will give him a new lease of life. Not just for him, but for me also. I know this because he’s told me at least five hundred times. So after that they decided to take him in and join their Mormon Community. And you know where Mormons are based in, right? Yes, the wonderful Utah.

So anyways, mom and dad actually managed to get onto speaking terms and agreed to go to a quiet meeting with the judges from the divorce case. And as you may know, the end result was that mom would have me one week and dad would have me the following week. And so on so forth.

My first week in Utah was one I’d never forget. Dad had this wonderful house that the Mormon Committee had partially funded for. They’re a nice bunch aren’t they? It was a beautiful Victorian looking house that had an old-fashioned oak door with a knocker and large pristine windows that looked out to the amazing view of the fields with horses, sheep and cows sleeping and eating, living their own simple lives. It was like something out of the 1800’s. Very different to my home in New Jersey. But I liked the contrast between the two very different home settings. It makes living more interesting.

Though the house on the outside looked like something out of the Victorian Era, the inside was on a completely different level. You ever seen that show on MTV where celebrities show off their homes just to rub it in people’s faces? Yeah, Cribs. It was just like something you’d see on there. There was all the latest gadgets and entertainment systems you could ever imagine and the layout was so modern that it hadn’t been invented yet. And the rooms were absolutely gigantic! The bedroom that was mine was at least three times bigger than my other one in NJ. The overall cost must have at least been over one million. So seeing as I was insanely happy about the house, I decided to go to church with dad to say thank-you. And that’s the day I met Bert McCracken.

When we arrived at the church at the church that day, everyone came up to my dad with eager smiles asking how he was getting on. He told them he was doing just fine. He also introduced me to everyone, telling them I was his son and that he’s finally managed to get part-custody of me. He told them he’s never been happier and that he’s finally managed to get his life back on track. He also thanked them. Each and every one of them reassured him that it was their pleasure to do so and that they’re happy he’s finally go a positive attitude to life. That was their main goal, they said. Then after all the thanking and congratulating, I got formally introduced to everyone. And I do mean everyone. I was made to stand at the top of the alter and tell them about myself and my life etc etc. After I did that I had to shake hands with everyone and introduce ourselves to each other. The people I acknowledged myself to were old and smelt musky like…well, old people. After shaking hands with just 5 people I wished I could just be at my new home under my quilt in my new, massive, comfy bed watching the Plasma TV on my wall. And that’s when I saw Bert.

As I walked over to him with my hand outstretched, I noticed something different about his face from the other people. Apart from being much less wrinkled and saggy, of course. Instead of showing a wide, stretched smile like the other people I had previously met, he was wearing an amused smirk. Like he thought the whole thing was too hilarious that he was finding it hard to keep it all in. I averted my eyes to the wooden floor.

‘’Hello I’m Frank.’’ I said politely, though after the words left my mouth it sounded like incoherent mumbling.

‘’Hello Frank, I’m Bert.’’ He replied in an amused tone, which matched his expression perfectly.

‘’It’s Robert, boy!’’ Someone scolded in a deep tone. When I looked up, I realized it was his father. Bert rolled his eyes. I still remember the look on his dad’s face then; a look of embarrassment as he flickered his eyes to me and then back to his son.

‘’Okay then. Hello Frank, I’m RO-BERT.’’ He said ‘Robert’ in two clipped syllables, obviously taking the piss. His father looked at him incredulously; his eyes bulging and his lips in a thin, tight line.

‘’Robert, do not treat me like a fool. And you most certainly will not act so inappropriately in front of other people. Learn to treat people with respect. You hear me?’’ He said it in a quiet but harsh voice. But the way he was looking at Bert, it looked like he was sort of pleading. As if he was mentally begging him not to do it here. Here. But he did it other places. And I soon learn that that is the truth. Bert turned to his father with a fake smile.

‘’Of course father.’’

After that, Bert walked away without another word towards the doors and went outside. I turned to his father unwillingly who was looking after Bert with an unfathomable expression. He then looked at me and smiled apologetically.

‘’Teenagers, eh? It’s hard to love ‘em, it’s hard to hate ‘em. I swear that boy has caused at least 99% of my grey hairs.’’ He started laughing after he said that and I joined in too. He introduced himself as Jonathan McCracken. After he walked off, I was on my own. I then decided to go outside for some fresh air. Once I went outside, I saw Bert standing a few feet away from the doors smoking a cigarette. I was pretty shocked because Mormons were against all things smoking, drinking and drugs related. Though of course he didn’t seem to be the type to give a damn. I walked over to him and decided to spark a conversation between us somehow. Which happened to be a conversation that led to Bert and I becoming friends.

‘’I thought you Mormons weren’t allowed to smoke?’’ I questioned without bothering to say hello. He looked over at me and looked me up and down for a few seconds. It made me feel really self-conscious. But then he cracked a smile and took another drag.

‘’Yeah well I’m not really one to follow the rules. Especially when they’re a load of bullshit.’’ He answered while exhaling smoking fumes. After that, my mouth dropped and hung open; taking in what he had just said. He had to be the most badass guy I’d ever met. He was a Mormon that smoked, swore and didn’t even follow the rules so I’d dread to think what else he did. That was a brave thing for him to do. My dad told me that the whole Mormon religion was pretty strict and if you even break the rules in the slightest, you get punished for it. And if you break some of the rules, you get cursed to hell and run out of Utah! I started to admire him in a crazy way.

‘’What? You don’t believe in the whole Mormon thing? And you don’t abide by the rules? Do you have a fucking death wish?’’ He started laughing once I’d said that and crushed his cigarette with his foot.

‘’Well saying that, sometimes I think being dead would be better that being in this hellhole. Seriously, it’s taking up my time. But I’m not being let out of it easily. My family has been Mormon since it started. My great great grandfather, or something like that, was one of the original people that followed Brigham Young to Salt Lake City. So as much trouble as I cause for my dad, he still doesn’t kick me out. Or let me free for that matter. The whole Mormon thing has become a sort-of tradition in the family. And I’m an only child so there you go. I’m just gonna have to make his life hell till he backs down, poor bastard.’’ After he said that he gave me a big grin and took out his packet of Marlboro Lights.

‘’Want one?’’

I took one out of his packet and held it awkwardly between my fingertips. It felt foreign in my fingers; not exactly sure how to hold it the correct way. I eventually just shoved it in my mouth as he lit it for me.

‘’So Frank, right?’’ I nodded once as I sucked in the thick smoke that tickled my throat. I forced a cough back down my esophagus.

‘’Cool. So what school you going to go to?’’

‘’Timpanogos High School.’’ Once I said that his face lit up and he smiled at me with disbelief and excitement.

‘’Awesome! That’s where I go to!’’ I smiled after he told me that. At least I would know someone. Not that he’d exactly want to hang out with me…

‘’Dude, you should hang out with me and my friends. There’s three of us. Me, Quinn and Jepha. C’mon, it’ll be a laugh.’’

And I agreed. Of course I agreed. Because that’s how I ended up where I am now. Being Frank and Frankie. Frank with Bert and Frankie with Gerard. And now this is where it all begins. This is now the story of how I, Frank Anthony Iero, led a double life. And how lies will always come out in the end. For the better, or for the worse.

Authors Note: Okay so this is a new story idea I randomly came up with. I have the basis of the story mapped out in my head and I’ll start writing more. But I won’t necessarily be posting more. I’ll only post more if people like it. I’m not being greedy or anything I just think that if this story is good at all and worth me carrying on and posting then I need people to let me know. Also, getting reviews is the key to motivation. So if you like it then please review. If not then don’t review and I won’t bother anymore. Thanks! Rant over. xox.

P.S I KNOW Frank Iero wasn’t born in 1992. I’m just setting it in the present day. And he’s 16 here so take away from 2008 and…well, you know. Just had to get that straight lol.
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