Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 19


by PartyPooperX 5 reviews

Just a firestarter, twisted firestarter.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Frank Iero - Published: 2012-11-02 - Updated: 2012-11-02 - 1796 words

[A/N: So this is really short...]


Jamia tossed the hair out of her eyes and flicked the lighter. The flame felt warm and comforting at her fingers, the golden glow being the only slight of colour in the whole station. The trams had come and gone all day, rattling past her in a gust of wind and noise but she hadn’t taken one. She’d been there since morning. In the distance the sun was beginning to set in a murky blotch of orange and red, disappearing behind the roofs and turrets of town. It was getting late.

She shivered at the nipping breeze and shuffled deeper inside her jacket. Jack’s jacket, actually, but she’d never learnt the difference between borrowing and stealing – why start now? It didn’t matter anyway, he’d left to Michigan or whatever after high school and that he wasn’t coming back was one of the few things she was definitely sure about. She was jealous of him, actually, how he managed to break free of this place when so few of them did, but she’d never tell him that. When she knew she was probably going to be stuck in Jersey for the rest of her life working at a greasy spoon for God’s sake.

“You’re in my spot.”

Jamia looked up and smiled. Frank was standing a little too close to the track for the tramline guards’ liking but he obviously didn’t care, his hands stuffed coolly in his pockets. He was smiling but he looked pale and wan, a little hollow really, like he’d lost his spine or something; his edge. She knew the feeling, she couldn’t judge.

She hopped up onto her feet and dusted her jeans. “I didn’t know there was a reservation,” she replied, her eyes gleaming.

Frank’s eyes flickered to the lighter and back at her face. “You going anywhere?”

“No. Are you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You going into the city to see someone?”

“Not really.”

She frowned. “Oh. Okay.”

The line began to rattle. They both looked to the distance; it seemed to stretch on for miles. Frank could feel the breeze on his cheeks.

“So are you coming with me, or what?”

She looked at him. He was peering far out into the expanse as the tram began to speed closer and closer towards them.


“Somewhere. Anywhere.”

The tram slowed and drew to a stop. The familiar gush of air as the doors opened and Frank was smiling. He hopped on, she followed and the doors slid shut behind them. Jamia took a seat and gazed out of the window. The city sped by, the colours submerging into fast streaks past her eyes. It was nice to leave it behind, even if it wasn’t forever.

“So my dad walked out on us when I was twelve,” Frank said, resting his chin on his hand. She looked at him.

“Oh I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure why I said that.” Then he chuckled. She smiled at him and returned her attention to the window.

“I never knew my dad,” she said. “I’ve been in foster homes since I can remember.”

“And how was that?”

“It’s not so bad,” she sighed. “People have this stereo type of foster carers who are called things like Jan and Nick and Mitch, who recycle and have a German shepherd. Who live in a cul de sac and only eat wholemeal bread and keep their lawns green, you know?”

“What were yours like then?”

She grinned and picked at her nails. “They had a schitzu.”

Frank laughed and the way his face lit up made her smile more. He was cute, she couldn’t deny, in a small, wide eyed elfin way. But she knew he was one of those types who had so much more to offer but just…didn’t. She knew instantly that even if she knew him for the rest of her life she’d never be able to get round him. It unsettled her because there wasn’t anyone ever, who she couldn’t get around, but then the tram slowed and they could see the city lights so it was okay.

“Let’s go have some fun,” she grinned and they left the tram, instantly drowning in the masses of people about the town. Frank had this look in his eyes like he was stuck in a dream, partly because the orange of the street lamps left puddles of light in his irises like spotlights, little spotlights. He was an angel.

She gripped his hand and they almost ran to the centre of town, he was laughing. They slipped and slid on the wet cobblestones but never stopped until they found a bar that looked like it wouldn’t care if they came in and ran inside. It was some sort of pre-graduate sorority bar or something, with kids in baseball jackets who had passed wasted a few miles back and Frank grimaced because it reminded him too much of high school. But it was affordable so they slid into a booth and pulled the curtain shut behind them.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” she asked, noticing his frown.

“No, it’s okay,” he smiled reassuringly. “It’s cool.”

She beamed and drummed her fingers on the table top, looked around the booth a little. Then she hopped up again, grinning. “I’m gonna go get us some drinks.”

She winked at him and disappeared through the curtain into the sea of noise and lights and people outside the safety of the booth. So Frank was sitting in his seat in the warmth of this booth which smelt of cheap Lynx and sweat and spilt beer and he wondered why he was here, because it wasn’t to get drunk and it definitely wasn’t for Jamia and he hoped to God it wasn’t because it was the last place Gerard wanted him to go (but we all know that was totally the reason).


“I got cocktails!” Jamia was back, pink cheeks and gleaming eyes, but not alone. “And company. These two football graduates on leave. Their pretty shitfaced and they wear their football jackets like a cross but hey, company’s company, right?”

Two heads popped through the curtain, their skin the same shade of golden, their hair the same shape of crop and their white smiles equally reminding him of two jackals.

Jamia passed him his drink across the table and settled in her seat, slightly squashed by the new recruits. “Guys, this is my friend Frankie. This is Kurt,” she pointed, and the smaller of the two waved, “And Jack. They go to, uh, what was it again?”

“Clarkson,” said Kurt, or maybe it was Jack. They grinned at each other and thumped the logos on their chests like two proud chimps. Frank cringed.

“Kurt. Jack. Clarkson league.” Frank sipped at his drink. “How adorably alpha male.”

Jamia shot him a look. “Play nice, Frank.” He wondered if she was drunk already.

Frank rolled his eyes and returned his attention to playing nice with Tweedledum and Tweedledee. “So Kurt, what do you study?”

Kurt looked up like he wasn’t expecting this guy to actually talk to him. “What?”

“Like, do you have a major or what?” Frank asked conversationally.

Kurt shook his neat blond head. “No, I haven’t got one, I’m a freshman see.”

Frank giggled to himself. “Yeah, so what’s your minor?” And he giggled some more. But the other three just stared, obviously not understanding the joke so this just made him laugh even more on his own, this cocktail was strong.

The rest of the night blurred into one, a speeding train of strobe lights and cheap alcohol and the steadily growing dizziness that soon enveloped him. He wasn’t even that drunk, or at least that was what he protested, to be honest he really wasn’t sure until he found himself lying curled up in a ball with the nausea spinning the room round and round and round like some sick fairground ride.

His tongue was thick and tied in his mouth and he tried to puke but he was indoors and that would be embarrassing for Jamia, wherever she was. Somehow in the midst of all the noise he could hear her laugh; he imagined her surrounded by other sport clad jackals like Kyle and Jackson or whatever they were called. He tried to call out to her but it was weak and feeble and of no use so he collapsed in the cushion and stayed there, trying his hardest to sleep and never wake up – to die, that would be nice.

He really was a lousy drunk.

A clash of broken glass, a scream and the room was moving again but not in the way it was before. People were running, streaming past him in one massive blur of panic, their faces contorted with fear as their shrieks rung in his ears. The music had stopped and was replaced by cries and the thundering of feet and a roaring, he realised, a growling, angry roar which he’d hear before, somewhere. He rolled onto his feet and saw it then – flames; big raging tongues of fire that darted and flickered at his skin. The dizziness released its hold on him at the first sign of danger and his head was cleared, the smoke barring his sight as he moved though the club against the crowds of people and the only thing that mattered was to get out but fuck where was Jamia –

He hit the pavement and gasped, drinking in the cold night air as the remainder of the smoke that stung his eyes dissipated. Slowly he raised his head and watched as everyone flew around him; semiconscious bodies being pulled from the soot and debris, people crying at the curb of the sidewalk, the flashing red and blue lights and shrill wail of a siren. He was pulled off the ground before he could take it all in, pushed onto a bonnet of a car as his arms were twisted behind him and he could feel the cold metal of handcuffs against his wrists what the hell was happening?

They said something to Frank, the cops, they said something in his ear which he couldn’t comprehend because they were still ringing. And Frank could just make out the electric blond head of Jamia being pulled kicking and screaming into a police car through the soot and smoke and panic before he tumbled onto the backseat as well and cops slammed the door behind him.
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