FicWad

A/N: This story needs little introduction. Even if it did, I cannot adequately find the words to explain how much it means to me, or how much of an impact it made on me. There is so much I could change, so much I could edit and make better. But I am not going to. I am going to leave it here, in its raw form, as a reminder of the person I was when I wrote it. I am no longer that scared little twelve year old with the scarred wrists. And even those scarred wrists helped to create something that made others sit up and listen.

I will put the disclaimer here, and I will not repeat it. I do not own My Chemical Romance, Mikey or Gerard Way, or Frank Iero. They own me, in their own small way.

~FallenAvengingAngel

Frank’s POV-

“YOU WORTHLESS FAGGOT!” my mother roared as she slapped me across the face, knocking me to the floor. She chucked the half-empty bottle of booze at me. It collided with my back and shattered, causing the slashes from the glass to sear with the burn of alcohol. I cried out in pain and used my doorknob to pull myself to my feet. My mother’s screams continued even after I had made my way into my room and shut and locked my bedroom door.

“YOU ARE A CURSE ON HUMANITY! UNNATURAL, DO YOU HEAR ME? NO SON OF MINE WILL BE A FAG, OR SO HELP ME, THEY WILL DIE!”

I sighed, my breath catching in my throat as I winced in pain. Just a normal day in the life of me, Frank Iero. My mom obviously didn’t appreciate my homosexuality, and she made sure that I knew that, too.

I wanted to go clean the alcohol out of the cuts on my back, but reaching the bathroom would mean going back within her line of fire. So I did the most reasonable thing at the time- packed my favorite bag with a change of clothes and my school stuff, grabbed Pansy, my guitar, and climbed out of the window into the rain.

I moaned in relief. The cooling rain felt like the merciful tears of God as it rinsed away the blood, alcohol, and tears. I stood still, letting the rain soak me to my core, until the rain had washed away most of the pain. I then pulled off my favorite black hoodie over my ruined t-shirt and started my lonely trek to nowhere.

Gerard’s POV-

“Mikey, I’ll be back in awhile. Let mom know where I am if she asks!” I called to my brother as I pulled on my hoodie.

“You’re gonna walk in the rain? What about helping me unpack?” my brother shouted back, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“I’ll help you when I get back! I want to check out that comic store before it closes. And besides, I’m waterproof!” With that, I jogged out the door.

It was dark out, due to the storm clouds obscuring what little light would have been left this time of day. The street lamp had burned out, and I could barely see where I was going. Before I knew it, I had collided, face-first, with a kid holding a guitar case.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry!” I apologized as I helped the boy to his feet. He was shaking from the cold, and he was soaking wet. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, taking a step back. His hair was plastered to his face, making his pale skin stand out against the dark night.

“Where’re you going?” I inquired, looking him up and down. He looked as if I’d scared the crap out of him.

“I-I-I..” he muttered, his eyes wide with fear. He sighed in defeat. “I don’t know. I had to get away. My mom-“ he cut off and broke down into sobs.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, out of the rain. Then you can explain,” I told him, wrapping my arm gently around his shoulders and leading him into the house.

Frank’s POV-

He was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. His jet-black hair framed his hazel eyes as he looked down at me worriedly. He practically carried me up to the bathroom in his spacious, warm home, and I couldn’t help but continue to stutter my thanks. When we reached the tope floor, he took Pansy and my bag and helped me out of my clothes and into the hot water. He gasped audibly when he caught sight of the wounds and old scars that littered my back.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?” he asked as he gently sponged my back with the water. It stung, but it was a clean pain, not like the pain of the alcohol or the cuts themselves. As he washed away the last of the blood, I told him about the awful things that she did to me, how this was nothing, and that it was usually worse. I told him about how she used to beat me black and blue, or lock me in my room without food. I had never told anyone before, and I knew that telling him was probably a mistake, but I felt safe talking to him.

When I was finished with my tale, the boy handed me a towel and a pair of boxers and shorts, turning around politely so that I could change. He then sat me down on the toilet as he treated my lacerations with antiseptic ointment. The whole time, I was extremely aware of how close to me he sat and how soft his hands were.

Stop it! I chastised myself. You’re just getting your hopes up. He’s not gay. You’ll just end up freaking him out!

The boy’s hands faltered on my back.

“What?” I asked gently, silently wishing that he would continue.

“Why… why would she do this to you?” he whispered, his hands lightly tracing my scars.

“Um, she… I… she hates… I’m gay,” I blurted out, flinching away from him. I stood up to leave, but strong, smooth, gentle hands gripped my wrists, turning me around to face him. I looked down at my feet.

“Look. At. Me,” the boy’s velvety voice commanded. I obeyed, and got my first really good look at him.

His hair was still wet from the rain, and it hung almost to his shoulders. His lips were pale and smooth and, to my surprise, he was smiling. His beautiful eyes twinkled playfully as he told me, “Being gay is nothing to be ashamed of.”

I looked down again, and he lifted my chin so that his eyes met mine.

“You’re not the only one,” he whispered.

Gerard’s POV-

The boy’s eyes widened in disbelief as he looked for any sign that I could be lying.

“Now sit down,” I told him firmly, “and let me finish bandaging these battle-scars.” He did as he was told, and I sat behind him on the toilet once again, placing gauze and medical tape on his cuts, which had finally stopped bleeding. I leaned back and took a look at my handiwork. Satisfied, I patted the boy’s hip and stood up. He turned to me and smiled apologetically.

“Thank you so much… um…”

“Gerard Way,” I told him, washing the antiseptic off of my hands. “And you are?”

“Frank. Frank Iero. By the way, do you have another towel? I need to dry Pansy off.”

“Pansy?”

Frank blushed. “My guitar.”

I smiled, making Frank blush harder.

“Yeah, here.” I tossed him the towel, along with a clean black Misfits t-shirt. He took them appreciatively, and immediately buried his face in the soft fabric of the shirt.

“It smells so good,” he mumbled as he yanked the shirt on over his head.

I laughed. “It just came out of the dryer,” I explained as he once again blushed scarlet.

“Oh,” he said, looking down at the shirt. It was much too long for him, but there was only so much I could do.

“Pansy’s in my bedroom. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Frank’s POV-

I followed Gerard out of the bathroom and down a long hallway that was lit with a warm glow. I relished in the feeling of the soft carpet under my feet as I walked along.

We stopped at the door to the basement. It was covered with paintings and posters of bands. Anthrax, Nickelback, The Misfits…

Gerard silently opened the door and I gasped as I took in the view.

The basement had been transformed into an amazing bedroom. A king-sized bed was in the corner, covered with a down comforter and loaded with pillows. A desk strewn with art supplies and comics occupied another corner, while a long couch and a television sat along the far wall. Pansy was resting gently on a beanbag chair that was big enough for two people.

I carefully picked up Pansy’s case and wiped it down, taking care to make sure that it was totally dry before opening it. Finally I pulled Pansy out, checking her out and plucking her strings to check that she was unharmed. Gerard, who I had almost forgotten about for the moment, whistled from across the room. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat when I saw him sprawled across the couch, his chin in his hands.

“You love her like life itself,” he stated, nodding in Pansy’s direction.

“She was my dad’s…” I explained, stroking her neck. “She’s all I’ve got of him. My mom burned all his pictures when she was in one of her moods.” I steeled myself, and asked the question that had been nagging me. “Hey, Gerard? Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go back there when she’s like this, and I-“

“Whoa, Frankie!” Gerard cut me off, rising to his feet and closing the distance between us. My breath caught in my throat when he rested his hand on my thigh and said, “I wouldn’t have let you go back there if you tried! At least not tonight. Of course you can stay here! Now, when was the last time you had a decent meal?”

“Um…” I mumbled, trying to remember when I’d eaten last.

“Come on,” he demanded, pulling me to my feet.
*
After I had eaten the most wonderful meal that I had ever had the pleasure of eating, and Gerard had introduced me to his mother and totally hot brother, Mikey, we headed up to bed. I was thoroughly exhausted and full for the first time in Lord knows when. Gerard and I stripped down to our boxers, and I climbed into bed. I felt as though I was floating on clouds. I guess it was that floatiness that caused me to blurt out, as Gerard was lying down on the sofa, “Gerard, will you come sleep up here with me?” I flinched, mentally slapping myself. However, to my surprise, Gerard climbed into bed next to me.

“Goodnight, Gerard,” I whispered, curling up into a ball. I felt a gentle hand stroke my face.

“Frankie?”

“Yes?”

“Call me Gee.”

I giggled and snuggled in close to him. I lay my head on his bare chest and breathed in his wonderful scent.

“Goodnight, Frankie,” his seductive voice cooed as he lightly massaged my scarred wrist, lulling me into a peaceful slumber.