Frank wakes up in an ironically comfortable bed, feeling not so ironically scared shitless.
but hey another short one
maybe you should just expect chapter this length
Frank vaguely remembered a nightmare, the sleepy, metallic taste still present in his mouth. He thought of how he'd try and recall it so he could tell Ray of it, until he opened his eyes, that is.
He was laid across a bed with sheets the colour of elderly book pages strewn about him. The room was unfamiliar and small.
He was stirred enough prior to the husky voice sounding suddenly at the end of the bed.
"Sorry it ain't the Hilton, but it's the best I can do at the minute." Frank whimpered, eyes bore. He was facing the left wall, explicitly aware of the killer at his back. He daren't turn about.
"Look, I get you're scared shitless right now, Frankie," Frank squirmed, his heart thudding in his chest heavily, angry to get out. He cussed under his breath as he felt the hot salty tears well silently in his eyes. He was confused as fuck, and felt rather like a toddler who'd lost his mother. "But you gotta work with me."
'Work with you? And what makes you think I want to work with America's most televised slaughterer?' Frank screamed, in his head of course. He said nothing, shivering regardless the mass of blankets piled above him. He heard the grunt and stumble of Way arise and saunter round the bed, crouching at his face. Frank couldn't take any more. After all, what's the shame in having a breakdown when the chances of you getting murdered a tilting over the chances of not?
Gerard's face was serious and neutral. The sassy glint in his eye and admittedly sexy smirk had gone overnight. The man face to face with Iero looked, concerned?
"Shh, stop crying," Gerard cooed. "Stop that, now." Frank gazed up at the ebony haired man, curious, and still terrified.
This was the Gerard Way. The man the whole nation had had nightmares concerning. And he, Frank Iero, was inches from kissing him. Wait, why had he even thought of kissing the man? Absurd shit, Frank.
Why was Gerard being so, nice to him? Why wasn't he impaling him with a dagger? Where was Ray? And why the fuck was he still thinking about kissing him?
"I know you're in shock or whatever," the sympathy had drained a little from his voice, unsurprisingly. "But we do need to move on."
Frank still stared up, completely panic-stricken.
"Look, here's what's what." Gerard sighed, lowering himself to a cross legged position at Frank's side, accepting the poor boy was not going to speak. "You're scared shitless of me, understandable, I suppose. But don't shake your balls of, I ain't here to harm you, Frankie. I'm here to help you. How and why probably ain't clear to yourself yet, but it will be soon, you can be sure as shit of that. I, Gerard Way, promise you, Frank Iero, I ain't gonna rip your throat out." Frank squirmed at the sound of the nickname again. "Okay?"
But Frank just gazed back, convinced this was some ironically realistic dream. That was, until he met the man's eye and caught a glimpse of his own, very weary, reflection.
great fucking chapter ending molly learn how to write