The wonder that is Frank Iero's saliva, weird nose fetishes, and the lettuce munching of reincarnated snails...
Never, in my entire meeseshit-filled life, have I found walking in a straight line so incredibly difficult- not even that time I got so extraordinarily off my face on strawberry and lime tequilas at last year’s Christmas party and ended up accidentally sucking off the captain of the football team.
And wow, was I drunk out of my mind then.
Mind you, you’d have to be to suck off that dude- or under the influence of heavily hallucinogenic drugs.
I wish alcohol was the excuse for my walking like a drunken gothic albino giraffe in stilettos right now, but sadly, I think it has more to do with the utterly mouth-wateringly gorgeous human being strolling casually along the sun-soaked sidewalk beside me, hair flopping sexily across his face in black tendrils, finger hooked carelessly through one of the belt loopholes in his dangerously tight black skinnies that don’t leave much to the imagination of my mentally vacant, hormonally deranged little brain cells.
Seriously, couldn’t the guy just be ugly for like, five seconds?
I might actually need my brain later on in life, and at this rate, there’s not gunna be anything left by tomorrow. If there ever was anything anyway…
Maybe I’ll actually function better without it. I mean, if it’s gone then surely my retarded, hormonally sex crazed little morons of brain cells will go too? Those little morons that just won’t stop drooling- literally and metaphorically- over a certain Frank Iero.
It’s especially unfair for him to look so utterly gorgeous when I’m walking down the street beside him, because there is nothing to suddenly grab onto when he smiles or brushes his hair out of his eyes or pokes his tongue playfully out into his lip ring and my knees just melt faster than a cookie dough ice cream in the Sahara desert.
And oh god, those eyes…so glittering and twinkling and greeny gold, rimmed with scarlet…beautiful eyes looking at me as if I’m just faintly amusing rather than a completely and utterly retarded moron with severe co-ordination issues and skin paler than Voldemort trying on Black Veil Brides make up who wants one of his six dicks. Like, right now. In my mouth. Or-
Oh my god, just shut the actual fuck up, you retarded, pink-knicker wearing little fuck-ups.
I seriously will assassinate my own brain with a herd of bloodthirsty meese some day.
Seriously, I really have never just appreciated just how much concentration it takes to simply walk down a street without looking like a drunken, mentally vacant dingbat who’s just escaped from the nearest mental institute. Not to mention I probably look like I’m severe pain as my face is screwed up from concentrating so hard on just remaining upright.
Jeez, what sadistic god gave someone eyes that beautiful?
Probably the same god who gave me Mikey as a brother.
The little fucker is definitely trying to kill me- first he invited Frank back to our house after the whole nose kissing thing yesterday evening, then he decided to tell him that I’m a sad gay transvestite, and after Ray arrived and had a full on hysterical laughing fit at my boxers, my face, and my pathetic excuse for a life, Mikey brightly honoured Frank’s suggestion of walking down to the music shop.
So here I am, stumbling down the blisteringly hot summer street beside the god of sexy sexiness and my disturbingly Hitler resembling stepsister’s boyfriend, sun beating down on our backs as my evil, revenge-seeking sibling and my cat-snogging best friend giggle away together in front of us in a way I can really only relate to teenage girls plotting some sort of complicated and evil plan to get the guy they fancy.
It’s official. The universe is actually trying to kill me.
Actually, those eyes are trying to kill me…those smoulderingly sexy, red-rimmed, heavily-lidded eyes with such alluringly mischievous russet and glittering emerald and…
Is he talking to me?
Judging by the way he’s looking expectantly at me with those devastatingly shimmering, amused eyes, I’d guess so. Oh meesecrap and catsnoggingmeesefuckingtremblingpostmen.
But hey, it is kinda hard to concentrate around someone that sexy, especially when my beyond fucked up little brain cells are mentally undressing him, dragging their little pink tongues all over him in the most unsuitable manner, while fantasising about his multiple dicks. Little sickos.
You’re doing it again, fuckface.
Trailing off the subject because you can’t stop thinking about Frank and his six dicks.
Well, you were too! And you do know he doesn’t actually have six dicks…um, what was the subject?
Frank was talking to you.
Well thanks a bunch for telling me, fuckface.
Why should I? You could have.
I was busy, okay?
What, thinking about the guy who’s question you STILL HAVEN’T ANSWERED, YOU RETARDED DIPSHIT?!
Oh. Um…what was the question again?
“Gerard?!” Frank’s deep, husky voice cuts through my inner argument of insanity and I jump, narrowly avoiding collision with one of the parked cars that line the sun-soaked street.
“Um,” I say intelligently, tripping and stumbling on my laces, narrowly avoiding splatting my entire being, perverted brain cells and all, onto the road beside me. Actually, that might be a good thing seeing as my chances of being squished by a passing bus would be considerably higher if I’m lying in an un-functioning splat in the middle of the motherfucking road.
Suddenly, death by bus seems like a very good plan.
That way the universe wouldn’t be able to torment me with knee-destroyingly sexy guys, beyond sadistic, Hitler-descended stepsisters, revenge-seeking, straightner obsessed younger siblings and supposed best friends who store their wisdom in their hair which just happens to look like an explosion in a poodle factory and is frequently munched upon by his deranged, everything-eating tabby cat, Maisie.
“Gerard?” Frank’s waving a hand in front of my mentally absent gaze and smirking softly at me.
“Ueemp?” I stammer, pulling my head out of insanity, which might as well mean pulling my head right off seeing as my head is insanity personified. Oh god, I really do need professional help.
“I was just asking, what do you want to do when you leave school?” Frank asks.
Die and become re-incarnated as a lettuce-munching snail.
However, perhaps Frank might think I was even stranger if I actually said that so instead, I settle for one of my usual ‘Um,” mumblings and stare very, very hard anywhere but Frank’s beaming smile which could seriously melt holes right through the fucking pavement.
Of course, my mentally unhinged and hormonally deranged little brain cells fix their drooling little stares right on where Frank’s jeans are tightest, which doesn’t really help the whole remaining upright and not sprawled on the dry pavement thing.
Frank’s eyes twinkle with emerald amusement at my incoherent mumbling and scarlet cheeks due to the whereabouts of my brain cells’ gaze, and pushes back a strand of dyed-black hair in a manner that makes me want to throw myself to the cracked pavement, wind myself around his ankles and die.
“Um?” Frank repeats, grinning at me which just about explodes the remains of my melted knees and results in my stumbling desperately and grappling for something to hold onto to keep me upright, finding nothing and bumping into Frank in a gooey mush of pathetic fuzziness.
“You okay there, Tumbles?” Frank chuckles gently, holding me upright and brushing my slightly sweaty black hair out of my eyes with a warm, guitar player’s hand.
“Uguenapooeeshoof..” I melt, wishing my brain cells didn’t exist. Or at least weren’t hormone-crazed lunatics. And would just shut the fuck up about a certain multiple-dicked sex god for two seconds.
“The heat getting to you?” Frank asks, still keeping hold of my elbow as I shakily attempt to return to my feet without any support from mini-mowhawked wearing sex gods.
“You-you could say that…” I breathe, heart pounding and choosing not to mention that the heat that’s getting to me is not the summer sun, but the extortionate heat of the beyond hot person who’s holding onto my arm right now.
Frank chuckles, thankfully seemingly oblivious to the real reason for the sudden, abrupt departure of my knees. “Hey, I’ll buy you an ice cream, yeah?”
“You don’t need to,” I mumble, starting to walk shakily along beside Frank and concentrating painfully hard on putting one foot in front of the other without accidentally blowing up the entire street or something.
“Sure I do,” Frank smiles and I have to drop my gaze to the floor very, very quickly so as my knees don’t do yet another disappearing act. They too are clearly plotting against me, along with the rest of the universe.
“Well, um…” I say oh-so-intelligently. Seriously, no one would guess I got an A in English last term- I speak like a mentally unhinged baboon wired on cocaine most of the time.
“What’s your favourite flavour?” Frank presses me, running a hand through his floppy mini-mowhawk and nudging me gently with his shoulder.
“Uisteiohjtoopjh….cookie dough,” I stammer.
“Awesome, mine too!” Frank replies enthusiastically, beaming at me with his dazzling smile.
“Umph,” is my fascinating response as I pray to all the gods ever created to not let my knees evaporate.
“Hey, Mikey! Ray!” Frank calls, and the evil, giggling pair of morons plotting my demise turn round from where they are a couple of metres in front of us down the parched, dry street.
“Yeah?” Mikey calls back, an extremely suspicious smirk of evil etched across his skinny face, disturbingly similar to the smirk on my ‘fro supporting best friend.
Oh god, they really are plotting my death.
“Wanna go get an ice cream?” Frank calls, gesturing towards the ice cream van parked in the shady park on the other side of the street.
“Fuck yeah, motherfuckers!” Ray grins in a way slightly too enthusiastic for my liking and turning to cross the road to the park and the ice cream van.
“Cool,” Frank smiles, making his way to the edge of the pavement too.
When I join him more than slightly unsteadily, he wraps a warm, soft hand round the bare skin of my upper arm and I jump violently at his unexpected touch.
“Chill out, Tumbles,” He laughs, shaking his head at me. “I’m just trying to make sure you cross the road safely without tripping over and landing yourself under a bus.”
If he’s gunna keep smiling like that, I fucking wish a bus would squish me.
Then I could start my new re-incarnated life as a snail.
I mean, snails can’t pour boiling water over themselves or trip over everything or accidentally concuss the most beautiful human beings in existence, right? They just eat lettuce. Lettuce is good…. When I’m not eating it, or it’s non-existant.
Okay, I’ll make a terrible snail.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting slightly unsteadily on one of the wooden picnic benches in the grassy green park, under the dappled, peaceful shade of one of the oak trees, beside my evil younger sibling and cat-snogging best friend and opposite my satanic stepsister’s god-like boyfriend who is currently making my knees feel as though they never existed.
I have never fully appreciated just how wonderful seats are.
“So guys, what are you all doing later?” Frank asks, licking at his ice cream in an unfairly sexual way that just makes my brain cells become suddenly magnetically attached to his body.
“Seeing Tilly,” Mikey replies, a stupid, gooey-eyes smile slipping over his face.
“Lucky,” I scowl, spooning cookie dough ice cream sulkily into my mouth and trying not to look at Frank’s sexual ice cream licking.
“I’ve got a date at seven,” Ray announces, and Mikey and I promptly choke on our ice creams.
“What?!” Mikey splutters, looking utterly disbelievingly at Ray.
“Is it really that hard to believe?” Ray asks, looking slightly offended.
“Dude, I’d have been less surprised if Gerard had a date,” Mikey rolls his eyes.
“Oi!” I say indignantly, putting my spoon down crossly.
“I was just saying,” Mikey shrugs, going back to his hazelnut and coffee ice cream carelessly.
“I’ve dated more people than him!” I protest, determined that Frank won’t think I’m some albino saddo who’s never been on a date. Even if it’s true.
Mikey raises his eyebrows. “The Glen Danzig lookalike you nearly killed on holiday last year doesn’t count- the dude ending up in fucking casualty!”
I flush furiously and duck my head as Frank chuckles.
“Is this a story I want to hear?” He laughs, looking from my flaming cheeks that are so beyond red a beetroot would be green with envy, to Mikey’s evil smirk.
“No!” I yelp, as Mikey simultaneously says “Definitely!”
Before my younger sibling can embarrass me even further, I hurriedly change the subject.
“So, um, Ray?” I cut across the start of Mikey’s story. “What’s the girl called? Or guy, sorry…. Or is it your cat?” I grin.
Ray scowls and flicks some ice cream at me. “It’s a girl, thank you very much, but I’m not gunna tell you who yet cause I’ll never hear the end of it then.”
Mikey suddenly looks interested. “Oooh, who is it, puff head?”
“It’s great to hear that nickname is catching on,” Ray says sarcastically. “And I’m not saying anything just yet, so you can all shut up.”
For once, we all do and there’s silence for a few moments, broken only by the soft, calming rustle of green leaves above us as the balmy summer breeze dances across the green park and cloudless blue sky.
“Hey, Gerard,” Frank says after a moment or two. “You still up for helping me dye my hair?”
“Uunghamoof…” I mumble, blushing as Frank smiles hopefully at me with those devastatingly smoulderingly sexy eyes.
“Awesome!” Frank grins. “Hey, do you guys mind if we skip the music shop and go and buy dye?”
“Sure,” Mikey shrugs, licking his spoon.
“Fine by me- I have to go and get ready for my date in a couple hours anyway,” Ray says.
“So, have you ever dyed hair before, Tumbles?” Frank winks at me and I melt like my ice cream is in the late afternoon sun that beats down on the grassy park.
“Um,” I stammer. “Um, once.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re great with your hands,” Frank grins mischievously at me.
Wow, well isn’t that a statement that makes my sex-crazed little brain cells lose the plot.
“Uihapstjpqeejk…” I breathe incoherently as Ray snorts raspberry ripple ice cream all over the table.
“Great, shall I come by this evening with the dye?” Frank asks, still smiling in that knee-melting way.
“Great!” Frank beams at me, licking at his ice cream in a way that does the most peculiar things to the rate of my heart, not to mention my mentally unhinged little brain cells’ thoughts.
“So, Frank,” Ray says after a few moments of silence, digging a spoon into his raspberry ripple ice cream and throwing me a brief grin of evil which means he’s about to say something which will probably make me want to get stampeded to death by my own herd of bloodthirsty meese. “Has Gerard showed you his songs?”
“Some of them,” Frank replies, throwing me a quick grin and making me grip very hard at the edge of the picnic bench as Mikey rolls his eyes heavily at the pathetic life form that is supposedly his older brother. “But he won’t sing them. The songs are fucking amazing though,” Frank throws me an utterly devastating grin and I have to hurriedly busy myself with my cookie dough ice cream before I actually melt, combust and die.
I say nothing, partly because I know I’ll start spouting gibberish, but partly because I think speech might actually be beyond me right now.
Finally, after several moments of Ray, Frank and Mikey discussing horror movies, I decide it’s safe to look up briefly at Frank, who, of course, immediately spots me and throws me yet another of those ‘I-am-going-to-destroy-your-knees-and-make-you-release-every-hormone-in-your-body-at-once’ grins.
Okay, is this guy actually in league with the universe that’s so mercilessly plotting my very long drawn out and painful departure from life?!
I start shakily shovelling more ice cream into my mouth to distract my hormonally insane little brain cells who have currently decided to replay the little incident with my boxers from earlier, until Frank’s warm, callused fingers rest gently on my frantic hand and I jump, my spoon going flying and managing to land in Mikey’s tub of hazelnut and coffee ice cream, just giving him yet another reason to mortally embarrass me to death- something I’m certain he will take me up on.
Skinny little straightnerfucker.
Oh. Frank’s holding my hand.
“Calm down,” Frank smiles gently at me, emerald eyes twinkling with amusement as he lets go of my hand. “I was just trying to say that you’ve got ice cream on your nose.”
Oh. Great. This completes my existence as the most pathetic, retarded, imbecilic, moronic, fucked-up, unhinged human being in the universe.
I have motherfucking ice cream on my mooseshitting nose.
“Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn so red it should be enough to melt the ice cream on my face away, not to mention all the ice cream in the can across the park.
Mikey and Ray both snigger at me, but Frank just smiles his warm, amused smile at me. seriously, how did someone so utterly perfect end up with the daughter of Satan?! Then again, he is so hot he might well have come straight from the fiery pits of hell…
“Need some help getting rid of it?” Frank’s suddenly smirking, eyes twinkling mischievously as he impatiently brushes his hair out of his eyes that shimmer in the warm, golden sunlight that beams down from the cloudlessly blue August sky.
And before I can answer, Frank leans across the wooden picnic bench, grinning, and licks my nose clean of cookie dough ice cream, tongue hot and slick on the burning skin of my nose.
Frank Iero, sex god, guitar god, and my evil stepsister’s boyfriend just licked my nose.
Oh god, I think all my brain cells are actually melting.
Fuck yes! Perhaps now there won’t be endless girly pink-knicker dancing and whining about my instant attachment to one of my stepsister’s boyfriend’s many dicks. Or his lips. Or even his nipples. Actually, any part would do just fine- my brain cells are too hormone crazed and Frank deluded to be fussy.
“All gone,” Frank grins cheekily at my blushing cheeks and wide-eyed, gobsmacked expression. In fact, I’m pretty sure I look like an innocent baby hamster that’s just been introduced to the wonders of weed and is finding things a little tricky.
“Uohtoejhapehwoihiiwooiof…” I breath, gripping the bench very, very tightly in order not to fall off.
Ray’s laughing like a drunken, hyperactive mentally unhinged gerbil getting a piggy-back from a hysterical and squealing Justin Beiber, but Mikey’s just giving me the Glare Of Death and gesturing to my spoon which landed in his precious ice cream.
And really, I would apologise, but I just don’t think I’m actually capable of speech just yet.
I also never, ever want to wash my nose again.
“Shit, shall I go and buy you a new one?” Frank asks, noticing Mikey who looks like someone just killed his entire family rather than just dropped a licked spoon of cookie dough ice cream in his hazelnut and coffee one.
Actually, he’d probably be skipping if some insane mass murder decided to wipe me off the face of the planet. Little fucker.
But at this rate, I might be too.
I’m actually so unbelievably sad that I want to treasure the remnants of Frank’s saliva on my nose for ever and ever- wouldn’t realising you were that pathetically, love-sickeningly sad make you want to remove yourself from existence too?
“I’ll come with you- I want to buy a coke,” Mikey sighs, getting up and he and Frank start off across the sunny, leafy green park, Frank throwing me a quick, dazzling grin over his shoulder before strutting after Mikey, hips swinging in his dangerously tight jeans.
Oh, the things I would do to those hips…
Fuck. Apparently my perverted, sick-minded, hormonally deranged little brain cells didn’t meet their death.
Once Frank and my evil younger sibling are far enough away, I lean forward and bash my head hard against the picnic table.
“Kill me!” I groan at Ray, repeatedly whacking my head against the tabletop in the vain hope that it will knock all the stupid little morons of brain cells out that keep fantasising about the wonders of Frank Iero’s tongue and the miracle that is his saliva.
“I’m sure you can manage that fine all by yourself at this rate- especially if you’re actually gunna dye the dude’s hair- fuck, he’s sogunna die!” Ray teases, and I chuck my empty ice cream carton at him. “
“Hey, that was uncalled for!” Ray says indignantly, prodding me with his spoon. “Oh, fuckface?”
“Yeah?” I groan from where my head is on the table.
“The dude has some kinda weird nose fetish. Stay away from him, Gee.”
I look up. “What?!”
“Just saying,” Ray shrugs at me. “Oh, and one other thing?”
“What?” I sigh dismally, staring across at the ice cream van where Frank is laughing with Mikey, hair flopping carelessly across his face, jeans clinging tightly to his hips.
“He totally wants your dick.”
Like? No like? Hope it was okay- I’m starting to worry this story is going downhill :/ anyway, there are only a few chapters left now! Hope you liked and please, please R&R and if you have time tell me your favourite bit? Thank you so much for reading, freaking love you guys- you’re what keeps me writing!!
Will try and update soon!