Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Empty With You

Making Amends

by monstrice901 2 reviews

Things are starting to look up. Don't slip and fall.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Published: 2012-08-21 - Updated: 2012-08-21 - 4338 words

1Funny
After a freakishly short wait - le chapter 13


Mikey laughed at his brother's idiotic facial expression. They were in the studio, and we're trying to incorporate Gerard's lyrics to Ray and Frank's guitar rifts. Both were extraordinarily good, but they just didn't fit together, meaning either the tune or the words were going to have to be butchered. So far, they'd be working with altering the lyrics and apparently, Gerard wasn't happy with the results.

"Well what are we supposed to do?" The younger guitarist was protesting, though he was clearly as amused as Mikey was by the face the singer was making. "What Ray's got down is too good to change."

"Surely you can just lengthen it a little so that I'm not singing with no backing." Gerard argued.

"We could put in a drum solo at the end." The younger of the two brothers suggested.

This was shot down immediately by Ray though. "No, that won't sound right with what we've got going right now."

"Maybe we could just use different lyrics for this song." Iero put in.

"But the words just go with the tune you and Toro have got so fucking well." Gerard whined. "If we just alter the guitar a tiny bit to make it longer, it'd fit perfectly."

"No." The word may have been a harsh refusal, but Frank softened it slightly  by leaning forward a pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. Way immediately turned bright re

Mikey rolled his eyes. It looked like the two men were officially a couple now, and apparently in their honey-moon state. He didn't resent this though, quite the opposite. Gerard deserved to finally have some happiness back after the disasters of the last few months. (Of course, the bassist didn't know half of it, but he knew enough to determine that his brother had been unhappy - very unhappy.) The only question really, was why it took him and Frank so long to actually get together. But then, it had taken him months to finally work up the guts to ask Alicia out, so he supposed that he couldn't really talk.

After an hours more arguing, two more songs fought over, and few resolutions, the group decided to call it a day and head home. 

"You're crazy," Frank informs his boyfriend on the way home.

"Well, thank you. But why?" Gerard grinned.

"Let's put it this way: Toro's a freaking genius and you're killing him!"

"I know, amusing isn't it?" The singer didn't take any notice of Iero's mock insults, knowing that he wasn't being serious. "In all honesty, I think I'm gonna re-work the lyrics a bit so they do fit, what Ray's done is seriously amazing."

"I'll help you, if you want it I mean." Frank offered. "From what I saw, some of your lyrics are just as good as the guitar, and it'd suck if they were completely forsaken." 

"Thanks, Frankie!" Gerard beamed back, and the guitarist laughed.

Since that afternoon in the woods, the singer's mind-set had improved no end. He was no longer apologising continuously whenever he refused the other man something, or had bad dreams about what had happened. Those nightmares were becoming more and more infrequent too, and Frank had hopes they'd soon stop all together. The older man just seemed happier, more confident. It was nearly how he'd been before the whole mess began, only with a few added emotional scars. Those would fade though. 

The guitarist parked his car, and the two men made their way upstairs, discussing the tracks they'd got laid down so far, and commenting on tunes, rifts, lyrics, solos and the like. It was very satisfying work, producing an album, and none of them could wait to see how it was going to end up.

When they got into the apartment, the sound of yapping reached their ears, even louder than usual. Frank had had a run installed, half inside, half on the over-sized balcony that wrapped around the flat. All the same, it wasn't really big enough for all the dogs, even if most were barely bigger than puppies of some other breeds.

"I think I'm gonna have to take them out." Iero commented. "Apparently they've gone stir-crazy in our absence."

"It looks that way." The singer agreed. "I'm going to stay here, start working on the songs."

"You know, with your luck, we're gonna go in to the studio and find out that Ray was up all night changing the guitar to suit your needs. And he's ripped up all the old stuff." Frank mused, grinning.

"It's ok, I photocopied it all before we left."

"You're evil."

"Yep!" Gerard laughed, and sat down, spreading the papers out in front of him.

Iero rolled his eyes, before unlatching the small door on the run, so his canines could scamper out, and start biting his ankles. The guitarist giggled and distributed food amongst them. Within a minute it had all been gobbled up, which was more than enough time for their owner to uncover their leads and clip them on to the corresponding collars. 

"Come on then!" He tugged at the faux-leather cords, urging his dogs to the door. "You sure you don't wanna come?" He yelled to Gerard before leaving.

"I'm happy here thanks!" Came the response.

Frank grunted and yeilded to the tugging that the canines were enthusiastically doing. "Come on then, you lot. You'll be out in the air soon."

Thankfully, the elevator in the block of flats was right next to the one the two musicians were sharing and went straight down to the parking lot. If it wasn't for this, Frank would probably have never got away with leading his pets around the way he did. Actually, that may also have something to do with the fact he rented one of the most expensive apartments, but whatever. 

He piled the dogs into the back and drove twenty minutes to his preferred park. It wasn't the closest, or the biggest, but it was usually pretty quiet, and it was clean too, undisturbed by the surrounding city.

There, Iero let the small canines loose, allowing them to run themselves out. There was no one else around, bar the couple on the other side of the green, who were kissing fiercely and seemed to be oblivious to the rest of the world.

Frank had dug some ratty old tennis balls out the back of his car, and lobbed them across the park. The dogs immediately began to scamper after them, and the man laughed at their antics as they caught up with the toys, and began to play fight over their prizes.

Mama was the first to give up, and waddled back to where her master was sitting, plonking her fat butt down on the grass.

"You have got to go on a diet girl." He informed her. Obviously, the dog didn't respond, but did give Frank a look he imagined would be pained, if she had the facial muscles to achieve such as expression. 

One of the advantages of having small pets was that they wore themselves out very fast, and it was barely an hour after he'd left that the guitarist found himself driving back home. 

En route, he decided to stop for gas. The car was running low as it was, and prices were going up almost daily around here. 

He filled up the tank, and paid, and it was only when he was getting back in the car that the torn poster on the the pump drew his attention. It was advertising an art show, just a few blocks from here, and one name in particular drew his attention.

Lindsey Way 

It wasn't exactly surprising to see her name in conjunction with an art show; Frank knew several modern galleries with her work in it. However, it was funny to see that the printing company had obviously made a mistake and one that she probably wouldn't be too happy about. Unless it was severely outdated.

Iero leaned closer to look at the print and discovered that the advertisement was actually extremely recent - infact, it boasted the fact that the artist would be appearing in the gallery today, between six and nine pm. 

Frank bit his lip, considering. It was seven now, so he could easily catch her and he knew where the building was. Getting in could be difficult, but he was sure that he had enough money to bride the guards or doorman, or whatever they had there. And his dogs were all asleep in the back, having exhausted themselves on the short outing.

Making up his mind, the man climbed back in to his car, and made his way, not back home, but to the art gallery only a few blocks away. He was careful to park in the shade there, although the day was already cooling rapidly with the sun's descent.

"Listen you guys," He said, twisting around in his seat to address the snoozing canines in his boot. " I won't be long so stay here, keep the doors locked and don't talk to strangers, ok?" There was no verbal reply, but Sweet Pea flicked her ear, which Frank took as an assent. "Good girl. I'll be back soon."

With that, he climbed out of his car again, to be met with a slightly shell-shocked looking woman. The guitarist realised that from this angle she probably couldn't see the dogs, so was under the impression he was talking to thin air.

"Good morning ma'am." He said, trying to contain his grin as he swept an imaginary hat off his head. The woman didn't respond, so Iero walked away briskly, bursting into laughter the moment she was out of ear-shot. He vaguely wondered if the woman had recognised him, and if Tumblr, or Facebook, or Twitter or whatever would have fans discussing his descent in to madness tonight. It didn't really matter if they did - actually, it'd make the whole thing funnier. Iero was still giggling as he walked around the side of the building, and in through the front door.

As it turned out, he didn't have to bribe anyone, to get in, just pay an over-priced entrance fee. He asked directions to where Lindsey Ballato was appearing, only to be returned with a strange look.

"If you mean Lindsey Way, she's in the fourth gallery along, giving a talk at the moment." The receptionist guy replied in an annoyingly superior voice.

Frank wondered if the woman was going by her married name intentionally, or if the place had just made a major cock up. Either way, he swallowed down his reply about actually, he was looking for a Lindsey Ballato, due to her not-so-recent divorce, thanked the guy, and went in the direction the prick had indicated.

Half way there, he wondered if he was the one who had made the contact, and there was some other artist who happened to share a name with Gerard's ex-wife. Oh well, he was here now, and if that was true he could just leave, no harm done. Thinking about it, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say to the woman.

Suddenly though, he was in the right hall, and there she was - hair long and black again, and somehow managing to look respectable, despite the sleeve of tattoos she had flowing down her arm. She wasn't so much 'giving a talk' as chatting happily to some guy about... something arty no doubt.

Frank hovered a few seconds before approaching.

When Lindsey noticed him, her expression transformed to one of out right shock, before she contained it, and smiled warming. She bade a quick goodbye to the man in front of her, before walking over to where the guitarist was hovering, and feeling very out of place. 

"Hey Frank." She smiled happily, apparently having no qualms against his presence. "What you doing here?"

"I saw a poster for the show; thought I'd look in." He shrugged. "No one's really seen you in a while, so you know..." He trailed off, looking for something else to say. "These yours?" He settled on, indicating the bright paintings adorning the walls around them.

"Yeah." Lindsey nodded enthusiastically. 

"They're really good." Iero replied true fully. Although she must hear compliments like that all the time, and probably more equolent ones too, the woman beamed.

"Thanks!"

The guitarist shrugged. "So how are you?"

"I'm good, yeah. I mean, I've been better, but all things considering. Well y'know." 

Frank nodded - he did know. However he doubted that the divorce had quite as harsh an effect on Lindsey as it did on her husband. 

"How is he?" She suddenly asked, voice quiet. The happy demeanour had been dropped, giving way to the more worried, compassionate side of the woman. it wasn't a side people saw often; her public face was one of confidence, often verging on cockiness. 

Frank didn't have to question who she meant. "He's... better." He didn't want to say too much and put Gerard's shame and emotional torture on display, especially to the woman who had caused it in the first place. "I think he's pretty much over the divorce, but Christ, you should have seen him a month ago. He was a wreck, Linds' , you know? I haven't seen him like that in a while."

The bassist nodded sadly. "I'm sorry about that. I did what needs to be done though, it wasn't a spur of the moment decision." She didn't know why she felt the need to justify her actions to the man, but all through the divorce she'd felt guilty about the emotional impact she'd known it would have on her husband. However, Ballato true fully felt that the split was best for both of them. "And I did love him." She murmured. "But our marriage... It wasn't going anywhere but down."

Frank didn't say anything - what do you say to a proclamation like that? - just nodded and reached out to rub Lindsey's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "He's better now though. Gerard's happy, I promise you."

"Thanks Frank." The woman swiped at her eyes, trying to hide the tears that had built up. "Look at me, crying like a prepubescent girl." She snorted, looking away. "You two are together now though, aren't you?"

Iero blinked in shock. He hadn't been expecting that question, particularly posed in such a blunt manner. "Me and Gerard? Yeah, we are."

"Good." Lindsey smiled weakly. "Fuck, why you two didn't just marry and have loads of babies years ago is beyond me. At least it would have saved us this mess."

The guitarist laughed shortly at that. "Come on Linds'. He loved you - you know that."

"Yeah." The weak, watery smile was still in place and the woman thought back over the past few years. Every memory was tainted by recent events, leaving them bittersweet. "Thanks Frank."

"It's true."

"And now he loves you." The sentence wasn't jealous, or bitter, or even resigned. It was almost as though the artist was looking for conformation.

"Yeah."

Lindsey sighed, and worked on pulling herself back together. She wanted to retreat back to her flat and do nothing but watch bad action movies and eat ice cream. "You should go now, Frank."

The man started slightly, as though jolted out of some far away thoughts. "Yeah, ok, well, it was good to see you, Lindsey."

"You too." She smiled and pulled Iero in for a hug. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her small body. "Look after him, yeah?"

"Course." The guitarist pulled free, and after a short shared smile with the woman, walked away wordlessly.

As he disappeared down the hall, Lindsey closed her eyes for a few seconds just to recollect herself. She could do this. She loved it, she really did talking to people about art and hearing compliments and critiques of her work. For just an hour longer she could put up the pretence of being strong, happy, independent and confident. Then she could go home, call Kitty or Chantelle and  bitch at them for a bit and eat her way through several buckets of Ben & Jerry's.

Despite feeling crappy now, she was glad that Frank had come and found her. At least now she knew that the man she used to love was safe, not struggling with the inevitable depression that Ballato knew would have come with the divorce for him. And she could move on now, too.

The artist put on a smile as she was approached by a shy looking girl in her late teens. She'd been hovering nervously for about ten minutes or so now, and as she approached, Lindsey noted that she was a little younger than most people that came to art exhibitions. 

She brushed this aside though as she began to talk to the girl. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that someone who liked Mindless Self Indulgence came to find her at an art gallery.  Ballato didn't mind though - fans were fans, weren't they?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iero arrived back home with his head reeling slightly from the conversation he'd just had with Lindsey. In hindsight, he was pleased that he made the decision to go and see her. He hadn't exactly felt guilty for dating Gerard, but knowing that he was the root of the divorce made him feel uneasy and somewhat ashamed. It was almost as though he'd... stolen the man away from his wife. Knowing that he had Lindsey's blessing dating the singer lessened this feeling though.
 
He ignored his pets protests as he woke them up to take them back upstairs. Soon enough, they'd traipsed back up to the apartment, and Frank was locking them back in the run, where they decided that they were no longer tired and began chasing each other round. The man just rolled his eyes at them, and began to hunt around the apartment for his boyfriend.

He found him, sprawled out on the couch, staring in to space.

"Hey Gee. You get far with the lyrics?" The guitarist sat down next to the other man comfortably. There were papers scattered all over the table and Iero leaned forward to examine them.

It was several seconds before Gerard replied, but Frank had expected that - the older man looked pretty zoned out when he came in. "Yeah, uh, no, not really."

Iero looked at his boyfriend sharply, only now noticing how despondent he was now. The singer looked worn out, and... scared.

Oh shit, Frank thought as he shuffled closer to the other man and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close in comfort. "What happened, honey?" 

Way didn't respond with words and pointed at the small pile of paper of the table in front of them. Looking closer, the guitarist could see envelopes scattered in between the A4 papers and sheet music.

"I got the post." Gerard muttered. He was buried in his boyfriend's embrace, appearing smaller than ever, and as meek as he'd been during the first week living with Frank.

Confused out of his mind, Iero leaned forward and began studying the addresses on the packaged paper and trying to figure out what had spooked the singer so badly.

Had he received hate mail? No, surely that wouldn't be it - they'd all received their fair share of that, over the years, due to controversial lyrics and misunderstandings. And it was usually so outweighed by adoring fans, the men thought nothing of it. Plus, how would a hater get his home address?

Perhaps threats, from whoever the singer had been 'working' for before moving in with Frank. But that still didn't explain how the man had  managed to get the home address, although if he had Gerard's, all mail was being forwarded here.

Then his eyes fell on it. A medium sized, official looking envelope. One with the address of the sexual health clinic they'd visited. It looked as though the singer's results had come through.

Iero immediately felt his mouth go dry. So much rested on whatever was written on that piece of paper and he knew the repercussions were huge if the word 'positive' appeared. He didn't know what he'd do, much less what Gerard would. At least the older man had him - and that wasn't going to change whatever the result was.

Where he was curled up against the guitarist, Way felt him stiffen as he saw the envelope. He didn't dare speak, not wanting to know what the younger man was thinking. He didn't want to know what was inside that envelope either, didn't know if his life was doomed to medication and sickness. Although no symptoms had shown themselves yet, th singer knew enough to know that diseases could lie dormant - sometimes for years - before coming back and biting you in the arse.

Besides, what would Frank do if he did have some horrible disease, inflicted on himself by his own stupidity. No matter how patient his boyfriend was being, Gerard was certain that his reluctance towards doing anything remotely sexual was taking its toll on the other man. And then what if he found out that sex would never be a possiblity? He wouldn't stay with Way, that was for damn sure. No man would want to commit to that, knowing that it wasn't just a mental barrier that would wear down with time stopping them from fucking, but a fucking infection. It was bad enough knowing that he himself would never have sex again himself, but somehow, the idea of losing Frank was even worse.

"Have you opened it?" The younger man asked quietly. 

Gerard shook his head.

"You should." Iero insisted, reaching forward to garb the sealed envelope. He kept his voice soft, trying to sound encouraging and reassuring.

It was then the singer looked up.  He leaned back slightly, eying the paper in the other man's hand with fear. "Can you?" He asked timidly. "If I do have something, I'd rather you tell me than an overly formal, typed letter."

Frank nodded. "You're not going to have anything." Maybe if he believed hard enough, it would be true. 

The guitarist began to tear at the envelope, not wanted to prolong the torture of not knowing any longer. He was about to pull the folded paper hidden inside out when something occurred to him.

"Gee, Gerard. Just listen a minute." He instructed. Way looked up from where he has once again burrowed himself in the younger man's side. "Whatever happens, this doesn't change anything. Between you and me, I mean. I'll still love you, and nothing's gonna get rid of that."

"What I start listening to Beiber?" The singer joked weakly.

"Well, that's miles worse than anything that could be written on here!" Frank smiled, then turned his attention back on the paper. He felt his face fall as he pulled it out, and Gerard press against his side again.

The paper inside was littered with typed font, none of which Iero could focus in on. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it, and scanned the paper, trying to read past the polite bullshit and medical terminology . Finally, his eyes zeroed in one the sentence he wanted to find, but not necessarily know the content. The guitarist closed his eyes for a moment, and then read, his breathing hitching as he did so.

"Gerard," He said after he'd finished. "Gerard, honey."

The singer once again drew back to look at his boyfriend. 

"It's fine; you're clear."

Way blinked once, twice - unable to comprehend the news. "I don't have anything?"

"No."

A grin split across Gerard's face and he surged forward to press his lips against the other man's in the most heated kiss he'd given in months. Frank was frozen for a moment, startled, before responding with equal vigour. 

"God, I love you." The younger man hissed through the passionate lip locking.

"Ditto." Way grinned back, before diving tongue first in to Frank's mouth. "Hey," He said, drawing back as he remembered a conversation that seemed like it had occurred years ago. "You never did put your piercings back in."

"You are so weird." The guitarist replied, looking slightly disbelieving that it was this of all things that was on Gerard's mind right now.

"I know." The older man smirked. "I'm dating you." And then he pressed his mouth against Iero's again. The latter gave out a strangled moan , but didn't protest. In fact, he grasped his boyfriend's waist and pulled him forward so they were horizontal, Gerard on top.

Way didn't know where this sudden confidence had appeared from, but he didn't care either. Euphoria was filling him now the threat of having an STD was no longer hanging over his head. He was clean! He wasn't going to die prematurely from some God-forsaken infliction! Best of all - he had Frank pinned underneath him, and they could do whatever they wanted without fear. Ok, the singer wasn't quite ready for anything just yet, but the potential for it was there. 

From the moment though, his mental blocks had seemed to have disappeared, and he was taking full advantage of the fact by practically eating his boyfriend's face off. 

They didn't get any further than that, but that said, they did make out solidly for a good hour or so, like a couple of horny teenagers. 

When Gerard broke it, he didn't move away, just lay on on Iero's chest, looking at him with big, adoring, lust filled eyes. "I love you too." He smiled. 

"Freak." The guitarist replied affectionately, ruffling the older man's dark hair.  



Well, I hope that you enjoyed that abominable fluff. Seriously, to counter-act this I'm going to have to write a story full of angst where everyone dies in between fucking eachother, and at the end they're all suicidal anyway.

Right, R&R please, please?

Sx
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