Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > When can you call a place home?
Waking up as Mr. Iero
(Fun Ghoul)
Frank Iero groaned, squinting at the bright light in his eyes. He blinked and opened his eyes to a quiet shared hospital room. A man lay on a bed in the far corner, he had black hair, a small nose that upturned at the end and he had high pronounced cheekbones, his long eyelashes creating dark shadows around his eyes. His forehead was padded with a thick bandage and he had various cuts on his face, arms and neck. A nurse sat by his side, a pair of tweesers in hand as she took out chunks of glass, dropping them onto a tray with small plinks.
Frank tried to lift up his head but it was as heavy as lead, wadding and gauze taped firmly around it. Wires were protruding from his arm alongside his IV drip.
"Ah, Master Iero. So glad to see you awake at last! You and your friend Master Way here, were in a most terrible car accident. You are lucky to be alive young man, maybe the scars on your face will remind you not to stand up in your seat and hang out of open sun roofs." She scolded. Frank looked up,
"Gerard?" He croaked, his throat dry and painful. The nurse handed him a small tub with three pills in, she smiled sympathetically.
"Take your medicatiom Master Iero, Better Living Industries have got it all under control now. Master Way will be fine."
Frank downed the pills and immediatly fell back into unconsciousness.
When he woke up, Frank noticed the bald man in the armchair at the foot of his bed. Gerard was still unconscious, snoring softly in the corner, muttering to himsef.
The bald man shoved a poster of a man in Frank's face along with a mirror,
"Do you recognise yourself as this man?" he asked, urgently. Frank looked at the photo, the man in it wore a light green jacket with cut sleeves, a brown gun holster aroung his shoulder, a yellow and black shirt with the words DON'T LITTER in big white letters and a blue bandana with white stars and a red smiley mouth. He had long, greasy, unkept hair, chocolate brown eyes, quite chubby cheeks, dimples that framed his smile, a square jaw, and two studs through his ear.
Frank looked his reflection in the mirror, his hair was cropped short from where the doctors had to stitch his forehead and his cheek back up.
He looked up, "No." He said.
"I don't know this man."
Korse smiled.
(Fun Ghoul)
Frank Iero groaned, squinting at the bright light in his eyes. He blinked and opened his eyes to a quiet shared hospital room. A man lay on a bed in the far corner, he had black hair, a small nose that upturned at the end and he had high pronounced cheekbones, his long eyelashes creating dark shadows around his eyes. His forehead was padded with a thick bandage and he had various cuts on his face, arms and neck. A nurse sat by his side, a pair of tweesers in hand as she took out chunks of glass, dropping them onto a tray with small plinks.
Frank tried to lift up his head but it was as heavy as lead, wadding and gauze taped firmly around it. Wires were protruding from his arm alongside his IV drip.
"Ah, Master Iero. So glad to see you awake at last! You and your friend Master Way here, were in a most terrible car accident. You are lucky to be alive young man, maybe the scars on your face will remind you not to stand up in your seat and hang out of open sun roofs." She scolded. Frank looked up,
"Gerard?" He croaked, his throat dry and painful. The nurse handed him a small tub with three pills in, she smiled sympathetically.
"Take your medicatiom Master Iero, Better Living Industries have got it all under control now. Master Way will be fine."
Frank downed the pills and immediatly fell back into unconsciousness.
When he woke up, Frank noticed the bald man in the armchair at the foot of his bed. Gerard was still unconscious, snoring softly in the corner, muttering to himsef.
The bald man shoved a poster of a man in Frank's face along with a mirror,
"Do you recognise yourself as this man?" he asked, urgently. Frank looked at the photo, the man in it wore a light green jacket with cut sleeves, a brown gun holster aroung his shoulder, a yellow and black shirt with the words DON'T LITTER in big white letters and a blue bandana with white stars and a red smiley mouth. He had long, greasy, unkept hair, chocolate brown eyes, quite chubby cheeks, dimples that framed his smile, a square jaw, and two studs through his ear.
Frank looked his reflection in the mirror, his hair was cropped short from where the doctors had to stitch his forehead and his cheek back up.
He looked up, "No." He said.
"I don't know this man."
Korse smiled.
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