Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Empty With You


by monstrice901 3 reviews

They just keep building up.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2012-07-24 - Updated: 2012-07-24 - 3963 words

Weird flash back when The Veronicas come on TV. What they are doing on Kerrang! I'm not sure about but there you go. Actually they're playing really shit music at the moment. I fail to see how this is rock music.

Just for the record, the title doesn't really have much to do with the chapter. I was just listening to The Sex Pistols and it seemed as appropriate thing as ever to call this.

Also, I love the weather! We should always be at this temperature!

Chapter 10


"What am I going to do?" Gerard whispered, voice full of despair.

Frank didn't have to guess what he was talking about - it had been the only thing on their minds for the last few hours now, and it was hard to say who was more worried. However, they were stressing about different things: Iero didn't know whether to be surprised or not that it was how people would react that seemed to be what the singer was the most concerned about, as opposed to his own well being. Frank personally didn't give a shit what anyone thought, it was what his friend may have contracted that was the horrific part. Gerard was either denying the fact that some diseases were fatal, or the thought hadn't crossed his mind in light of the horror of having to tell his brother he may have caught one. The guitarist could understand the embarrassment, but not why Way seemed to think Mikey would shun him over this. The two were closer than... well most people Frank had met. His gut clenched as he realised that it the lack of confidence in the singer may have come from him abandoning the man himself. Out of all of the stupid mistakes he'd made, that was the one he was regretting the most.

"It's fine Gerard." Frank replied, careful to keep his voice low. They were out walking the dogs, and enjoying the sunshine that had decided to make an appearance. "It was only the once, eh?"

"Yeah." The singer confirmed. Until the last night, Way had always had enough control over the situation to ensure that the other man had used a rubber. Needless to say though, with that man, he hadn't exactly been in the situation to make demands. Thinking about how cruel the guys had been, he'd probably made sure to give Gerard an STD, simply to spite him.

"Well, then, come on - no one is that unlucky." Trying to convince himself, as much as the other man.

"Speak for yourself." Way muttered. Then he turned back to his previous fretting. "How am I supposed to tell this to Mikey? To anyone? I don't want them to know what a fuck up I am."

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, hating himself again. "Not everyone's as much as a bastard as I am, and Mikeyway certainly isn't. He loves you to bits, and not saying I don't, but he's not going to turn against you, not for a moment"

Gerard just smiled ruefully. Iero wasn't sure whether the older man believed him or not.

"Anyway, you don't have to say anything yet. You can go into the clinic, and wait for the results to come back. If the worst comes to the worst - which it won't - then you can figure out what to do."



The singer smiled sideways at his friend. "I'm not letting you get away from me now; I'm holding you to the promises you made this morning."

The corners of of Frank's eyes crinkled slightly. "Fair enough. I don't intend on breaking them, though." He paused for a moment, then figured that it couldn't hurt anyone, except for possibly him. The idea was already out there, even if it was a rash decision made in the spur of the moment. "And by the way, if you do want to stay at mine now, I don't mind."

Gerard bit his lip, considering. It was an easy choice to make really, but the courtesy that was over-grained into people and the memory of the guitarist's recent abandonment was making him hesitate. "Are you sure?"

"Course. In fact, I'd prefer it this way - means I can keep an eye on you." It was only Iero's joking tone that stopped the singer biting his head off for implying that he couldn't be trusted. In light of recent events, perhaps he couldn't but no thirty-five year old man would enjoy someone hinting that they needed to be looked after.

But then, he really, really did. "Thanks, man."

"S'ok. I owe you anyway."

They walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the dogs scampering around their feet. Gerard's mind was drifting as he wandered through the city next to his best friend. It started off thinking back to when he, Mikey and Frank had shared an apartment, in the early years of the band. It would be slightly different now - obviously they were older, and besides his little brother wouldn't be there either.

It would probably be more strained, but in different ways. They didn't have to worry about paying the rent anymore, or having to choose between fags and food and alcohol (back in the day, cigarettes had nearly always won). Instead, it would Gerard's stupidity, and the mess that it had got him in that would be the biggest concern - or his at least. Probably Frank's too, but Way didn't like to make assumptions. On top of that, when he was twenty-something, he didn't fancy the guitarist. Well, not much.

The older man snorted at his thoughts. Saying that he 'fancied' Iero sounded so juvenile, as though they were teenagers and he had a pathetic crush on his friend. It was something more than that, but he didn't want to say he was in love with Frank either - that was too much. 'Infatuation' wasn't right either; that implied that their was nothing but an obsession, no fondness or affection.

Gerard's mind went back to wondering what it'd be like living with the man. It was so close to what he wanted, and yet so far. Surely, his the guitarist was doing this simply out of friendship, kindness, trying to make up for the long time spent apart. But what would it bee like living with Frank as though they were lovers? What would the sex be like?

Way blushed as this entered his mind, until he remembered, how things were looking, he wasn't going to be having sex with anyone, anytime soon.

"Oh shit." He groaned.

The guitarist looked at him sideways, frowning. "Stop stressing Gee, it's not good for you."

"Neither is getting fucking STDs!"

"You don't know that yet. Just, there's no point getting riled up about it now. You'll go to the clinic, get the results, see they're negative, and all this worrying will have been for nothing. We can forget about, well, you can, personally, I'm still gonna kick that guy's arse, but you know."

"You mean, if the results are negative, we're just going to forget about it. And you're not going to go out looking for vengeance, whatever happens. Getting your ass landed in jail isn't going to help anyone."

Frank sighed, but let it drop.

"I'm not going to say anything to anyone until the results come through whatever happens. And if they are negative, we're going to pretend this never happened ok?"

"I think you should at least tell Mikey and Ray though." Iero put in.

"Why, what's the point in worrying them?"

"They deserve to know. How would you feel if one of them was in this situation and didn't tell you?"

"Neither of them would be stupid enough to let this happen to them."

"That's beside the point." Frank rolled his eyes. "You should tell them."

"I'm not going to. If I have got something, then we can tell them, but if not, I don't want my little brother to know I'm a whore in my spare time." Gerard's voice was laced with bitterness, regret.

"Were." Iero said back. "You went though a bad patch, but it's over now, and no one thinks, any worse of you for it."

"You did."

The guitarist felt like screaming at that comment. He wished he could deny it, claim he'd never left his friend when he needed him. Wished that he had the sense to avert the situation he now found himself in. "I know. I'm sorry - I'm a fuck up, ok?"

"No worse then me."

"At least you didn't fucking ditch your best friend when it was obvious they needed help. I'm not gonna turn this into some petty argument, but I think that out of the two of us, my actions were worse." Iero snorted. "At least you're done with that now."

Gerard sighed. "What would you do if I told you I still wanted to go back though?"

Frank stared at him in shock, mouth hanging open slightly. "Please tell me you don't mean that."

Way shook his head in despair. "The sex, it was like the booze - back when I was living off that. I knew it was bad for me, and it would be the death of me, but I couldn't stop. It was the only thing that made me feel good about myself, made me feel alive."

Frank didn't know how to respond to that. "Oh, fuck Gee." Was the most he could manage. "You can go back there. I won't let you." And then pulled the older man into a hug to hide his own tears. "I am never letting you out of my sight again, ok?"

Gerard nodded weakly.

They walked back to the building in which Frank - and now the singer resided - in silence. Iero was pulling himself apart inside, guilt eating away at him. He knew it was pathetic to be thinking about himself when his friend was in so much trouble, but he couldn't help him. He'd never hated himself more.

Way was feeling similar, but he was being torn apart by despair and pain. He was a fucking wreck and now, he had no idea what to do.

When the two men and four dogs were back in the flat, Iero immediately turned to his friend. "We should call the doctor's now - get a referral."

Gerard nodded wordlessly, looking entirely lost and miserable. "Can you do it?" He mumbled. "Can you call them?" There was a pleading note to Gerard's voice that the guitarist couldn't refuse.


Frank found his phone and began flicking through, looking for his doctor's number. He trusted the man, after all he'd near enough saved the guitarist's life once or twice, due to his patient's infamously awful immune system and the various diseases he'd managed to catch over the years. The doctor should be able to refer them on to somewhere private, that wouldn't ask too many questions and wouldn't sell the singer out to make a few quick bucks.

Iero didn't know how his friend would respond to that, but he could rest assured that it wouldn't be good. After all, Gerard wanted to keep from his own flesh-and-blood, so goodness only knew what he'd do if it reached the public eye. Iero vaguely wondered how the fans would react if they did find out. They were usually so supportive, but they'd never been presented with a situation quite like this before. Actually, Frank knew exactly what most of them would do - set up an online page to show support for the singer, regardless of how he'd contracted the disease. It was almost funny how so many people regarded the man as a hero, yet he thought so little of himself.

He found a number eventually, and wordlessly pressed the 'call' button. The ringtone sounded four times before a young sounding male voice greeted Frank in a monotonous tone.

"Hi, could I speak to Doctor Mahon please?" He asked.

"One moment." The 'hold' tone beeped unpleasantly down the speaker, before another, far older and friendlier voice answered.

“Doctor Mahon speaking, how may I help?”

“Hey, man, it’s Frank.”

“Ah. What have you done now?”

The guitarist chuckled – he’d been seeing this man for years now, and the two had an easy-going, friendly relationship.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘absolutely nothing’?”


Frank laughed. “I don’t blame you for some reason.”

“Maybe because there is always something wrong with you?”

“That could be it.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining though – just means I get a bigger pay check!” Mahon chuckled. “In all seriousness though, what can I do for you?”

Frank glanced at Gerard, who was staring out the window at the bright sun, his expression dismal. It was enough to make the sky cloud over, not that Frank blamed him. When he resumed the conversation with his doctor though, his tone was much more serious.

He briefly described the situation, keeping an eye on his friend the entire time. Way just stood there, every line in his body tense, despite the hunch of his shoulders.

“I see.” The doctor said when Frank reached the end of his explanation. “Well, there is one clinic I know, about a forty-five minute drive away from here. It may be a while away, but it’s a very upmarket place and I can assure they won’t reveal your friend’s visit, or identity. Of course, that should be standard policy for everywhere, but unfortunately, money means more to some people than patient confidentiality.”

“Ok, thanks, doc.”

“I’ll refer you on to them, and you should get a call in the next hour or so.”

“Thanks a million.”

“Pleasure. Uh, give my best to your friend.”

“Will do.”

“And do try not to contract any more fatal diseases in the mean time.”

“Dammit – I was trying for malaria this time round.”

“Goodbye Frank.”

“See you.”

The guitarist hung up, and walked over to Gerard, who remained motionless.

“Doc says that the clinic should get back to us in about an hour. We can make an appointment from there.”

“Great.” Way replied in a very strained voice.

Frank was at loss as to how to make the situation any better. It was all just fucked up. “I- I’m so- I have no clue what to say.”

Suddenly, Gerard collapsed forward against the wall, hitting his head against it with alarming force. Iero darted forward to catch him, but the singer shook him loose and banged his head against the plaster again, the noise resounding around the room.

“Gee, don’t.” Frank said in horror, forcibly grabbing his friend and tugging him away from the wall and to the near-by couch. Here, Way curled up around himself, half on top of the guitarist as sobs began to wrack his body.

“Why?!” The older man moaned, pulling at his black hair, and clawing at his face. Alarmed, Frank scrabbled for his hands and restrained them so Gerard could do any further harm to himself. “Why am I such a fucked up stupid, little cunt? I deserve whatever I’ve got, I’m just a stupid, shitty little whore – I’m not what anyone thinks I am, I’m a screw up!” The harsh words of self-depreciation were barely formed, choked out as Way’s throat closed around them with the force of his tears. That didn’t stop them coming though, nor did Frank’s hands prevent the singer trying to scratch the skin off his body.

“Stop!” The guitarist was half shouting, but the order had no effect on the older man, who continued to struggle and shoot himself down verbally. “Just stop, ok?”

Iero had always been the stronger of the two men, and Gerard was currently badly under nourished, so it should have been easy to to pin the singer down. The elder man was desperate though, and currently half mad with remorse and bitterness. And self-hate.

Frank managed to get on top of him eventually, holding his wrists down, despite Way’s on going struggles. Gerard’s mouth didn’t stop though, as he continued to degrade himself in between sobs. The sight was breaking Iero’s heart, but he managed to gather both of his friend’s wrists into one of his hands, and press the other over the singer’s mouth. It didn’t stop the cry, but at least the insults were stemmed.

“Please,” The guitarist whispered, “Please, stop.”

Gerard relaxed slightly in his grip and Frank took the chance to remove his hands and wrap his arms around his friend. The crying only intensified as Way clung on – as though the guitarist was a life belt – but the tirade of self-directed hate stopped. Verbally, that is; God only knows what was going through the singer’s head.

Iero didn’t think there was anyway to erase the situation – the only hope was to weather the storm, and try to ease the pressure on his friend a bit by holding on to him as he cried and whisper compliments and comforts in his ear. It seemed to help a little, but it was a long time before Gerard’s tears ran dry completely. Every time that it seemed to be coming to an end, a new bought would come and the singer would dissolve back in to misery. Frank stayed there with him, just hugging him and pulling Way’s hands back when ever they tried to claw at his own face, or body.

After crying desperately for a good three quarters of an hour, Gerard’s sobs finally subsided into snivels.

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” He whispered, voice hoarse from over-use.

“No, just in a fucked up situation.” Frank replied as the other man brought his hand up to wipe his nose on the back of it. “Gross.” The guitarist commented, before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with crying Gee, you know that.”

Gerard nodded. “Yeah, but I got myself into this mess, I should be sorting it out, not snivelling on your shoulder and letting you do all the dirty work.”

“I don’t mind man. You’re my best friend, I love you to bits, and I owe you for being AWOL anyway.” Iero held the the other man tighter. “We’ll get through this, and as I said this morning, you’ve got to stop thinking like this. You’re amazing, ok? and nothing will ever change that.”

“Thanks.” The singer replied. “Can you get off me though? My legs are kinda dead.”

Frank blushed and climbed off, only now registering exactly how awkward the position was. “Sorry man. Looks like I need to use a few pounds.” His stomach rumbled at that moment, as though in protest. “You know what, fuck that. I’m hungry. You want anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Gerard replied, smiling at his friend’s antics.

“Tough, I’m making you Pop-Tarts.” Frank grinned, before disappearing into the kitchen.

The singer shook his head, but didn’t protest, knowing that this was all part of Iero’s grand scheme to get him back on his feet. The ironic thing was, the younger man probably wasn’t even consciously aware of having such a plan.

Gerard sank back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling, and listening to Frank in the kitchen. The usual yapping was present, as well as the radio. it was only after about a minute that Way realised he could hear his friend talking as well. He didn’t bother investigate though – the guitarist was probably on the phone.

His suspicions were proved right when Frank came back in, holding two plates of fried bread, and a slightly strained smile on his face.

“That was the clinic,” he explained, before Gerard could ask. “They can see you next week. Tuesday.”

Oh. Was the only thing that went through Way’s head at that, and he bit into the Pop-Tart to discover that is was strawberry flavoured.

The guitarist was also searching for words, and was coming up dry.

“What then?” Gerard eventually choked out.

“You get tests, we get the results back and everything’s fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“I don’t know. We’ll cross that road when we come to it.”

“This is so fucked up.”

“Hey.” Iero shuffled closer to his friend and wrapped an arm around his waist. Way turned his head to the side and buried his face in Frank’s neck, inhaling the warm, musky, smoky scent. “It’s fine. You’re gonna get through this. We’re gonna get through this.”

“Thank-you. Fuck only knows what I’d do without you here.”

“I’m glad I am. I’m glad I can help.” On impulse, Frank leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gerard’s head. The man in his arms stiffened for a split second, then relaxed. He peered up, smiling weakly through the tears.

“And I’m glad you’re the one helping me. I’m never gonna be able to pay you back for this.”

“Hey, it’s on the house.”

Gerard chuckled. “Do you wanna know... what happened? How I got into this?”

Iero hesitated. Half of him was dying to know, but the other felt that making his friend relive the memories wouldn’t help matters in the least.

“Only if you want to tell me, if you think it’ll help.”

“You deserve to know.” The singer said quietly. Frank remained silent. “After the divorce, it just felt like everything was falling apart. I fucked up with that as well – it was my fault Lindsey left me. And I just felt lonely. Like no one could ever love, or desire me, would never find me attractive. Sex helped with that.”

Gerard continued to talk, unwrapping and revealing every secret, every lie he’d spun. With every word, a little weight fell off of the singer’s shoulders, and on to his friend’s. Iero was happy for it though – overjoyed that Way had chosen him to unload his sorrow on to, to help ease the sadness that surrounded him.

The singer was crying continuously, throughout the confession, but these weren’t the gaudy sobs of before – just little hiccups when the pain peaked and had to be released. As it had done earlier, it helped that Frank refused to let go of his friend, just hanging on for the emotional support needed.

When he was done, the guitarist leaned down and pushed another chaste kiss through the black locks covering Gerard’s head. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“Thanks for listening. Everything seems... less of a big deal now.” Way admitted, smiling softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Shrivel up and die, to be consumed by hungry, flesh eating pterodactyls.”

Gerard snorted. “Something along the lines of that at least.”

The two sat on the sofa for another hour, talking about less straining things. All the while, Frank was turning over the new information in his head.

Despite how distressing it was to know what drove his best friend to renting his body out, it was easier now that he understood, and didn’t have to guess at possibilities even more horrific. On top of that, he also now understood what Gerard had been looking for – love. And as stupidly corny as it sounded, Frank had more than enough of that for the singer.

And now? The only piece of the puzzle missing was what had triggered these events in the first place – what had lead to a seemingly perfect marriage dissolving.
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