Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Chains That Link Us Together ::Frikey::
Frank's POV
I was lying in a stupid ass apartment on a futon lying in front of the television. I don’t have to be into work for about an hour or two. My cell phone went off, I picked it up and read the caller ID. Jam. Why the fuck was her number still on my phone? I decided to let it ring. I’ll listen to her after she’s through talking. After about forty five seconds, my phone beeped, meaning she hung up.
I picked up the phone, clicked a few buttons and set the phone to my ear.
“Frank… That Mikey guy came over looking for you. He’s looking for you, and… I chased him off, and then figured I shouldn’t stand in your way of whatever you want… Frank… I’m sorry… Bye…” She said. My eyes almost popped out of my head. Mikey was looking for me?! He actually came to my house… Looking for me… Is he interested in me? Maybe he just needs to vent about his girlfriend. Maybe Jamia is lying.
I furrowed my eye brows and hit redial.
“Describe him.” I barked when she picked up.
“Mikey?” She asked.
“No, the fucking milkman. Yes, Mikey.” I sighed.
“Um… Brown hair, glasses, quiet, skinny jeans, a band shirt, awkward knees… REALLY thin… cute eyes.” She said.
“He was actually there?” I asked, and felt excited and disappointed at the same time.
“Yes, Frank. He was here. I wish I would’ve given him your number. But I didn’t and I feel bad.” She admitted.
“Mmm… Okay. Bye.” I said and hung up the phone. I didn’t want to talk to her for longer than what I had to. Of course I still had feelings for her. But of course she fucking fucks me out of everything. A house, a car, and a person I really wanted to fucking know. I gave him my old address. My old address. Why couldn’t I have given him my phone number. Am I really that fucking stupid?
Was I stupid for expecting Jamia and I to last when -or if- Mikey ever showed up and asked if he could fuck me I’d say ‘Love you hunny, bye.’ and then let him do anything to me in our… I mean Jamia’s bed… Does that make me a bad person? I loved her like nobody’s fucking business, yes. But after doing what I did with Mikey, I realized I’m just really fucking gay.
I got the sudden feeling of overwhelming disappointment. I really wanted to see Mikey again. I’d settle for being his friend. I’d smack a bitch to be his boyfriend. I just want to know the guy I’ve been infatuated with for almost half a year. He was so strangely broken and perfect at the same time when I met him. He was so innocent and sweet. You’d want to keep him by your side and never let him go.
That night, I decided I was going to turn back into the Frank Iero that dumped into Jamia Nestor in the hall. A grungy asshole who could’ve had a barrel full of fuck and not given one. I wanted my piercings back. Those ripped up jeans and ratty shoes that didn’t even fucking need laces. My red eye liner and extra large misfits hoodies. I wanted my guitar back. That lust for the sting of a needle permanently scaring your skin with something meaningful.
Damn it, I’m Frank fucking Iero. I’m going to act like it.
-Driving to work-
What is love, baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more…
Stupid Haddaway. Who fucking asked you, anyway?
I turned the channel.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again…
THANK YOU VERY MUCH, COREY FUCKING TAYLOR.
I turned the channel once again.
…Let’s have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick don’t think to much just bust that dick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick…
Oh my god, what the hell.
I swear to god, if I hear another damn song pertaining to my situation…
…And I fall asleep and dream, of alternate realities, and I put myself at ease by pretending that she still loves me…
I punched my radio and it fell silent. What the flying fuck. Why is everything relating to how I’m fucking feeling? This is some damn stranger, I’m not in fucking love, thank you. I’m just really into him.
-Weeks Later-
I flopped down on my couch with a mug full of coffee and Bailey’s. I had a blind date with some dude my friend Bob set me up with. He was supposed to wear a red striped shirt, and I was supposed to wear a white stripped shirt. I really didn’t give a shit about what he was wearing, as long as I was getting laid. The dude I was with a few nights ago was apparently disgusted at the idea of sex. He told me he was gay, and he was looking for fun. Which is more fun, sex, or fucking Yahtzee? It’s almost like he didn’t understand that if you meet someone in a bar after 11 o’clock they’re looking for sex and if you’re not up for a fucking, you should go someplace else.
I stuck my hand down my pants -like I’m allowed to do, because I’m nobody’s bitch-, and continued to sip my coffee. Actually wearing clothes instead of dumbass monkey suits was nice. I bit down on my lip ring and thanked god I was an independent man. The tattoo’s, lip ring, eye liner, and tight clothes looked good on me. I didn’t mind waking up without one constant face in front of me.
“I just got a date with Mikey, and you’re grounding me?!” I heard from the television.
Mikey… I hadn’t stopped thinking about him. That was the one thing that would constantly bother me. Mikey. Is he single now? Maybe he moved. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore. Maybe he thinks I didn’t want to talk to him and he hates me. Maybe he forgot all about me. Why couldn’t I have him? Why did I have to have every useless stranger that was the opposite of him?
A/N; I am SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE.
I could not find my thumb drive.
Here it was sitting on my dresser. -___-
I feel like a moron, and you guys probably hate me, but I still love you all a lot.
Rate. Review(this one is most important). Favorite. Add to alerts. Tell your MCRmy/Killjoy friends about my fan fiction(almost as important as reviewing.
LOADS OF LOVE.
I was lying in a stupid ass apartment on a futon lying in front of the television. I don’t have to be into work for about an hour or two. My cell phone went off, I picked it up and read the caller ID. Jam. Why the fuck was her number still on my phone? I decided to let it ring. I’ll listen to her after she’s through talking. After about forty five seconds, my phone beeped, meaning she hung up.
I picked up the phone, clicked a few buttons and set the phone to my ear.
“Frank… That Mikey guy came over looking for you. He’s looking for you, and… I chased him off, and then figured I shouldn’t stand in your way of whatever you want… Frank… I’m sorry… Bye…” She said. My eyes almost popped out of my head. Mikey was looking for me?! He actually came to my house… Looking for me… Is he interested in me? Maybe he just needs to vent about his girlfriend. Maybe Jamia is lying.
I furrowed my eye brows and hit redial.
“Describe him.” I barked when she picked up.
“Mikey?” She asked.
“No, the fucking milkman. Yes, Mikey.” I sighed.
“Um… Brown hair, glasses, quiet, skinny jeans, a band shirt, awkward knees… REALLY thin… cute eyes.” She said.
“He was actually there?” I asked, and felt excited and disappointed at the same time.
“Yes, Frank. He was here. I wish I would’ve given him your number. But I didn’t and I feel bad.” She admitted.
“Mmm… Okay. Bye.” I said and hung up the phone. I didn’t want to talk to her for longer than what I had to. Of course I still had feelings for her. But of course she fucking fucks me out of everything. A house, a car, and a person I really wanted to fucking know. I gave him my old address. My old address. Why couldn’t I have given him my phone number. Am I really that fucking stupid?
Was I stupid for expecting Jamia and I to last when -or if- Mikey ever showed up and asked if he could fuck me I’d say ‘Love you hunny, bye.’ and then let him do anything to me in our… I mean Jamia’s bed… Does that make me a bad person? I loved her like nobody’s fucking business, yes. But after doing what I did with Mikey, I realized I’m just really fucking gay.
I got the sudden feeling of overwhelming disappointment. I really wanted to see Mikey again. I’d settle for being his friend. I’d smack a bitch to be his boyfriend. I just want to know the guy I’ve been infatuated with for almost half a year. He was so strangely broken and perfect at the same time when I met him. He was so innocent and sweet. You’d want to keep him by your side and never let him go.
That night, I decided I was going to turn back into the Frank Iero that dumped into Jamia Nestor in the hall. A grungy asshole who could’ve had a barrel full of fuck and not given one. I wanted my piercings back. Those ripped up jeans and ratty shoes that didn’t even fucking need laces. My red eye liner and extra large misfits hoodies. I wanted my guitar back. That lust for the sting of a needle permanently scaring your skin with something meaningful.
Damn it, I’m Frank fucking Iero. I’m going to act like it.
-Driving to work-
What is love, baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more…
Stupid Haddaway. Who fucking asked you, anyway?
I turned the channel.
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again…
THANK YOU VERY MUCH, COREY FUCKING TAYLOR.
I turned the channel once again.
…Let’s have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick don’t think to much just bust that dick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick…
Oh my god, what the hell.
I swear to god, if I hear another damn song pertaining to my situation…
…And I fall asleep and dream, of alternate realities, and I put myself at ease by pretending that she still loves me…
I punched my radio and it fell silent. What the flying fuck. Why is everything relating to how I’m fucking feeling? This is some damn stranger, I’m not in fucking love, thank you. I’m just really into him.
-Weeks Later-
I flopped down on my couch with a mug full of coffee and Bailey’s. I had a blind date with some dude my friend Bob set me up with. He was supposed to wear a red striped shirt, and I was supposed to wear a white stripped shirt. I really didn’t give a shit about what he was wearing, as long as I was getting laid. The dude I was with a few nights ago was apparently disgusted at the idea of sex. He told me he was gay, and he was looking for fun. Which is more fun, sex, or fucking Yahtzee? It’s almost like he didn’t understand that if you meet someone in a bar after 11 o’clock they’re looking for sex and if you’re not up for a fucking, you should go someplace else.
I stuck my hand down my pants -like I’m allowed to do, because I’m nobody’s bitch-, and continued to sip my coffee. Actually wearing clothes instead of dumbass monkey suits was nice. I bit down on my lip ring and thanked god I was an independent man. The tattoo’s, lip ring, eye liner, and tight clothes looked good on me. I didn’t mind waking up without one constant face in front of me.
“I just got a date with Mikey, and you’re grounding me?!” I heard from the television.
Mikey… I hadn’t stopped thinking about him. That was the one thing that would constantly bother me. Mikey. Is he single now? Maybe he moved. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore. Maybe he thinks I didn’t want to talk to him and he hates me. Maybe he forgot all about me. Why couldn’t I have him? Why did I have to have every useless stranger that was the opposite of him?
A/N; I am SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE.
I could not find my thumb drive.
Here it was sitting on my dresser. -___-
I feel like a moron, and you guys probably hate me, but I still love you all a lot.
Rate. Review(this one is most important). Favorite. Add to alerts. Tell your MCRmy/Killjoy friends about my fan fiction(almost as important as reviewing.
LOADS OF LOVE.
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