Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I Think I'll Blow My Brains Against The Ceiling

Hopeless For You

by AlteredStateOfMind 3 reviews

"There's always a reason for the things that matter," he says, playfully bumping into my side when I continue to gesture around wildly, "Maybe you just choose not to acknowledge it."

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2013-03-29 - 2815 words

Hey everyone, remember me?
I know you all probably thought I was dead or something. I haven't posted anything on here for like 6 months and I'm so incredibly sorry for that. I've just been busy with school and dealing with some pretty bad depression. It's kept me from writing, amongst other things, but I finally pushed myself enough to write again. I never abandoned this story and I never plan to. This story is my baby, I just need to stop neglecting it and make time to update regularly again. I hope there's still some of you out there that remember and enjoy this story 'cause I'm officially back and here to stay 'till further notice.


Gerard's POV

For the first time in weeks I'm actually up before noon. Long nights of partying don't usually create early risers, especially when those nights are filled with heavy drinking. Even now, as I'm pacing the living room area of Bert's apartment, freshly showered and dressed (also for the first time in weeks), I can still taste the bitter remnants of last night's cheap beer. How I managed to detach myself from the withered couch this morning is beyond me. Although, it may have something to do with the clearly traced address written on a scrap piece of notebook paper on the coffee table before me.

Last night is still clear in my mind. The music. The alcohol. The Halloween decorations. But, the clearest of all the events, is the brief conversation I shared with Frank. After seeing him thrash around stage for an hour, that mesmerizing figure was all I could think about. Frank managed to cloud my mind more than the drink in my hand or the pills in my pocket ever could. Whether that fog was a welcome one or not was what kept me out in that alleyway for a majority of the night.

Taking comfort in my cigarettes, I both hid away from the one person I desperately wanted to see and hoped with all my being that we would cross paths. I'll take the fact that the latter is what eventually occurred as some kind of sign. I never expected that Frank would want to see me again, however, much less that he would be the one to initiate our next meeting. But, here I am, staring at a set of numbers that will lead me to where he is at this very moment.

Why, then, am I pacing around like an idiot?

"You're giving me a headache."

Quinn circles around the couch until he can take a seat and steal a sip of lukewarm coffee from my mug. He shivers in slight disgust once he tastes the liquid, but continues to sip from it anyway. Once he places the mug back on the coffee table, he eyes the piece of paper that is currently giving me an aneurism.

"Is this what's making you pace around like Bert on a bad trip?" Quinn asks.

"No," I lie, badly may I add.

Quinn grins at me knowingly and I roll my eyes, giving up before he can roast me any further.

"Well, maybe" I admit, ceasing my pacing for the moment and taking a seat next to Quinn.

"Is this Frank's address?" he inquires, so simply you'd think he was asking about the weather.

"What?" I say, dumbfounded, "How could you possibly know Frank?"

"I don't," he shrugs, "But you wouldn't shut up about him last night, so it would make sense that this has to do with your mysterious lover boy."

I guess I got more wasted than I remember last night. I definitely don't recall telling any of the guys a word about Frank. I am suddenly shocked into embarrassed silence as I wonder how much I spilled.

"Um," I hesitate, looking away from Quinn, "What exactly did I say?"

"Oh, nothing," he shrugs, but I can see the sly smirk that's gracing the corner of his lips, so mischievous it could rival Bert's, and he doesn't have me fooled for a second.

I groan dramatically, hiding my burning face in a couch cushion. Quinn finds my humiliation very amusing as he bursts into laughter.

"Don't worry, dude" he chokes out between gasps of breath, "I'm sure your Frankie's eyes are as dreamy as you say they are."

"Are we talking about Gerard's Romeo?"

Just when I think that this situation could not possibly get any more embarrassing, Jeph makes an appearance.

"Aw," Jeph coos, taking a seat in my lap and coaxing my face from the cushions, "Don't listen to mean old Quinn. He's just bitter cause Bert hooked up with some guy last night."

"Fuck off!" Quinn exclaims, flipping off Jeph, "I don't fucking care who Bert decides to put his herpes-infested lips on."

"Sure about that? You never seem to mind when those lips choose you" Jeph retorts.

"Listen, I-"

Before Jeph and Quinn can continue their bickering and really give me an aneurism, I make a particularly loud groan.

"Quinn can deal with his commitment issues later. Now, tell me what's wrong in Verona" Jeph insists.

"Commitment issues?"

"Nothing's wrong, I guess", I say, ignoring Quinn completely, "I just don't know if I should see him again."

"Aren't you completely head over heels for this guy?" Quinn asks.

"Yeah, but" I begin, pausing when I can't think of a way to explain my dilemma without opening the door to conversations I'd rather not have with these guys. Or anyone for that matter.

"It's just complicated" I manage to settle on.

Quinn snorts sarcastically and leaves the room, probably in search of fresh coffee. Jeph kicks his ankle on his way past the couch and directs his full attention towards me.

"It's complicated cause you're making it complicated. You like this guy, right? Think his smile is what keeps the earth in orbit and all that?"

"Oh god, did I really say that?"


"Alright, alright. Yeah, I…wouldn't mind seeing him again" I admit, no matter how much of an understatement that is.

"Then walk your pretty little ass out of this apartment and meet him already!" Jeph yells.

A string of curses are heard from behind Bert's bedroom door, opening a moment later to reveal a disheveled looking Bert.

"Fuck, Jeph" he complains, voice hoarse with sleep and what seems to be the beginning of a gnarly hang over, "Would it kill you to keep your fucking voice down this early?"

"It's almost one in the afternoon" Jeph points out.

"Your point?" Bert says, straight faced.

The rest of their conversation fades into the background of my mind as I freak out at discovering the time. I run over to the cell phone tossed on the floor in the corner of the room in order to confirm that Jeph's claim was accurate.

"Shit!" I exclaim, running my hands through my clean hair frantically.

"What's wrong?" Jeph asks.

"I told Frank I'd meet him for lunch but it may already be too late. Fuck! Why am I always such a fuck up? I knew I should have-"

"Wait," Bert interrupts, confused, "What did I miss?"

"A lot. But that's what you get for throwing away your night on some slutty guy." Jeph says, glaring in Bert's direction.

"Woah, what the hell did I do to you?" Bert says, offended.

"Nothing, I'm fine," says Jeph, "Quinn, on the other hand, may have other opinions."

Bert pales at the mention of Quinn's name, almost as if he had forgotten the existence of the blonde who is currently brooding in the kitchen. Bert seems like he is about to speak further on the matter, but decides against it once he sees the malice in Jeph's eyes.

Instead, he changes the subject once he sees the address to Frank's job sitting on the coffee table.

"Frank?" he questions, eyeing the name strangely, "Why does that sound familiar?"

"It's a common name, Bert. I'm sure you've heard it a million times" Jeph says coldly, still upset.

"No, but…"

As Bert trails off, I sprint towards the closet in the hall and quickly grab my coat, intent on leaving the apartment within a minute and sprinting to where I know I'll find Frank and apologize until he forgives me for being such an unpunctual idiot.

When I return, Bert is still staring off into space, concentrating really hard on whatever it is he is trying to recall.

"Wait!" he says, "Isn't Frank the name of the lead guitarist of that band we saw last night, Mad Gear?"

"Yes," I confirm, impatient and irritated that Bert insists on keeping me any longer.

"Damn," Jeph whistles, "That's the mysterious Frank? How'd you manage to scope such a fine piece of ass? You need to teach me your ways, dude."

"But, wasn't he with…"

I can tell the exact moment when the information Bert was searching for in his drug diluted brain clicks because his eyes grow impossibly wide and he turns to shoot Jeph an alarmed look. Jeph gives him a concerned one in response.

"What?" I question, weary as to what has Bert acting so strange.

"Uh, nothing," Bert says, attempting to hide behind a calm facade.

"No, what?" I ask again, sighing in frustration when I'm met with nothing but silence.

"I don't have time for this," I think out loud, "I've gotta go meet Frank. I'll be back later."

I run out the door without waiting for an answer, snatching the paper off the coffee table on my way out and stuffing it deep inside my pocket. While I'm at it, I take out two white pills and swallow them down in hopes of calming down my racing heart. With that bit of added confidence, I tumble out of the building as fast as humanly possible, determined to go through with my meeting with Frank now that I've made up my mind.


I am no where near anything that even resembles athletic, but I manage to make it to Frank's job, a music store down the main street, in record time. Of course, my cheeks are bright red from the chilly wind and my hair is more of a mess than usual, but those are technicalities I can look over.

A small bell dings over head as I enter the warmth of the cozy shop, alerting the room to my presence. The store is quiet, only a few customers milling about and an unfamiliar face behind the register. I venture further inside, in search of a short ball of gorgeous, but come up empty handed.

Just when I am about to let my negativity win and believe that Frank purposely gave me the wrong address or just forgot about me all together, someone steps out from behind the 'Employees Only' door in the back.

"Hey!" Frank calls, heading over to where I am stood, next to a display of music magazines.

"I thought you'd bailed on me," he says.

It's mostly joking but I like to make myself believe that I find a hint of relief behind the words.

"Sorry about that," I say, scratching the back of my head, "I lost track of time."

"It's cool", he says, "Let's just get going. I'm starved."

I follow behind like a lost puppy as Frank walks over to the register to inform the guy working it that he'll be taking his lunch break.

"Seems like a pretty awesome place to work at," I say once his attention is back on me.

"It's great!" Frank agrees, "I lucked out that Pete was able to hook me up with a job."

I visibly scowl at the mention of that hot headed asshole. I notice the way Frank seems to regret it, however, shrinking into his oversized jacket, so I force on a smile.

"Yeah, that was cool of him."

Frank stops once we step out into the cold, looking up and down the street.

"What are you in the mood for?" he asks, looking up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Anything, I don't mind" I say, realizing that I'm not all that hungry now with those pills swirling around my stomach, anyway.

"Hm," Frank thinks, "Well, this restaurant around the corner has some kick ass vegetarian pizza."

"You're vegetarian?"

"Yup," he says, proudly, "Haven't eaten a single thing with a face since I was thirteen."

"Any specific reason?" I ask, laughing at Frank's choice of wording.

Frank nods in the direction of the restaurant, signaling for me to follow, before he answers.

"Of course, isn't there reasoning behind everything a person does?"

"I don't know," I ponder, "Sometimes I do things without having a solid reason. It just sort of happens, y'know?"

"Like," I continue, thinking up something trivial to use as an example, "I start making weird gestures with my hands when I get really into a conversation. Like right now."

Frank laughs as he watches me overdo my strange gestures in order to make my point.

"There's always a reason for the things that matter," he says, playfully bumping into my side when I continue to gesture around wildly, "Maybe you just choose not to acknowledge it."


Lunch turns out considerably better than I imagined it would. Conversation flows as easily as the tomato sauce that dribbles down Frank's chin that I wipe off with a napkin when he's deep into recounting a story, causing him to blush furiously and lose his place.

Frank even manages to get some food in me after much stubborn insistence. It's the first proper meal I've had in a while and my stomach doesn't even churn with withdrawal or anxiety. Not when I have Frank's melodic voice to keep me distracted.

Frank's break is over all too soon and, by the time we're standing in front of the music store once again, I feel as though I've only spent minutes with him. There's still so much I want to know about Frank, it couldn't all possibly be crammed into a mere hour. He hasn't even left my sight and yet I'm already craving my next chance to watch his lips as he discusses the importance of the right balance of pizza toppings.

"This was nice," Frank says as we slow our pace, the store coming into view, "I don't usually have anyone to eat lunch with."

"What about Pete?" I ask, attempting to keep any resentment out of my tone.

"Our shifts don't always coincide," he says, "And, even if they did, I think I'd still prefer to have someone to talk to that understands my love for Lord of the Rings."

"Well, I'm always up for a good discussion on Frodo's fashion sense" I joke.

Frank smiles, and it's not just any smile. It's one of those sincere ones a person gives you that you know are rare and you feel honored because you know not everyone gets to experience it's almost blinding gleam that could throw planets out of alignment and-

Fuck, Quinn was right. I can't imagine the shit I must have spilled while I was off my head last night.

"I've gotta get back to work," Frank says when we reach the entrance, and, just like that, the smile is gone.

"Oh, right," I respond like the lame ass I am, "I should, um, probably be going anyway."

It's not like I have anything better to do, but I'm not going to just stand around stalking Frank all day. As appealing as that sounds.

"See you around, Gerard" Frank says, facing away to enter the store.

I don't know what comes over me, but before Frank can reach the handle of the door, I grab his arm and spin him around until he's stood less than a foot in front of me. His expression goes from shocked to nervous and shy, but the smile is back so I'm taking that as a good sign.

"When can I see you again?" I ask, smooth as ice.

"Uh, w-whenever you want is good with me" he says, stuttering slightly.


"Sure," he says, eyes brightening, "Here. Save your number on my phone."

Frank hands me his cell phone and I quickly write in my digits, saving it under "Gee xo", throwing in that extra "xo" at the last moment cause I figure, as long as I'm being ballsy I might as well go all out, right?

I hand back the phone with a grin and a promise to text Frank later on with details for our plans.

The whole way back to Bert's apartment I set my body on auto pilot while my mind focuses on more important matters, like what the hell I'm going to wear tonight.

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