FicWad

Okay, I have a bunch of ideas for this story and they won't get anywhere until I write up to a point that they can be introduced. So even though it's 1AM on a schoolnight, HERE! haha

OH, and for all my Frankie lovers who don't go to Frank-Iero.net, or at least not frequently.

L.A. Ink, September 25, 10pm, premiere of the episode featuring (dun dun dun) FRANK ANTHONY THOMAS IERO! THE ONE AND ONLY!

I have rerun dates as well, one airing at 9 if you want just ask in a review or something, I don't care. Um... oh yea, FUCKING REVIEW BECAUSE I WORKED HARD!




I put the textbook underneath my desk and looked at my watch. So close. All day I had been super quiet, but when someone did talk to me I started freaking out, trying not to yell about how I’m going to accompany MCR on tour for two weeks. No one really gave a damn, and by third period they went out of their way to not say anything that might bring the topic up.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t think about it. Pictures adorned my binder, pictures that I would never want any of the guys to see because, I mean, you’d think I’d be over their ridiculous good looks by now, right?

Tick. Tock. Could school be any longer???

The bell rang. Yippee.

I grabbed my belongings and was the first one out, wanting to avoid bike traffic. I passed through the campus gates and walked by the front office door, which decided to open just as I was in the way. Before I could avoid the door and figure out what was happening, I was on the ground.

“Uuuuuuuuggggghh!” I groaned, putting my hand up to my nose and trying to make sure that none of my papers were scattered on the floor. I felt the blood gushing and hoped that it wasn’t broken. It felt like the whole front of my face was numb and my nose felt like it had been hit with a brick. I could feel my head pulsing, a sure sign that within the minute I would have a killer headache.

“Whaddthfuck.” I managed to say, trying to get up.

“Oh shit,” I heard a male voice say, trying not to crack up. I went to glare up at him, only to have my mouth gape open. I winced in pain and quickly shut it.

“EMILY!” Kara said running, seeing my unfortunate state on the ground. She knelt down to help me while looking up at Frank and saying, “Holy shit you’re in My Chemical Romance! Oh my god you’re Frank Iero! Do you fucking KNOW who the hell you are?” she was gushing, one of the few MCR fans at my school.

Now he was in a fit of hysterics. “S-s-sorry.” He said, trying to breathe. “A-are yyou o-o-o-kka-yy?” he asked. He leaned up against the wall and slid down it, clutching his side.

Students were passing us with wide eyes at the situation, not recognizing the celebrity in their presence. “Retards. Freaks. What the fuck? EMO!” people said as they passed the scene. The school nurse came running out of the office as Kara grabbed my stuff so that I wouldn’t get blood on it.

“Ow, FUCK!” I shouted as she tried to put ice on it. She looked at me disapprovingly and helped me up by the elbow to get me into the clinic, a hysterical Frankie and a stunned and worried Kara following.

I groaned out in pain as she told me that it wasn’t broken, but it was pretty bad. “Shit, is my nose going to turn into like a huge purple bruise or something?” I asked.

She nodded, “It’s possible.”

“Shit.” I said more under my breath before she could yell at me for cursing too much.

A more stable Frank came over and put his hand on my shoulder, “Sorry Emily…” he apologized.

“It’s okay. At least it wasn’t some other student.” I said shrugging his hand off my shoulder, my voice sounded nasal because I was clutching my nose with a bunch of paper towels.

“Do you need to get that checked or something?” he asked.

“Naw, it’s okay. Um, where’s my stuff?” I asked looking around. He pointed to a chair that had my binder and purse on it.

“That girl left it here, said she had to leave though when the nurse was looking at you and stuff.”

“OK.”

-Awkward silence-

“Why were you laughing?” I asked looking at him accusingly.

“Well, it just so happens that I open the door on the person that I was looking for. Kat gave me a last second call that she had to do that tattoo today so Gerard did a bunch of stuff with the airlines and pretty much got me on a plane like 5 minutes after she called. He switched my flight to Florida to today and he was switching yours too, we’re leaving tomorrow.”

The nurse clicked her tongue when he mentioned getting yet another tattoo.

“What’d the principal think of all the body art?” I asked, surely she must’ve seen him. Especially since he decided today of all days to wear a short sleeved shirt.

He chuckled, “It was sooo funny.” He said holding back another fit of silent giggles.

“You know I’m not packed yet, right?” I asked, “I didn’t expect you ‘till tomorrow…”

“Yea yea, fine. I mean, if it’s okay by you, I won’t be much of a hassle. I could like, sightsee or something if you want.”

It was my turn to laugh. Pain shot through my face and I groaned, “Sightsee, in Palm City? I would never let you go through that kind of boredom.”

“All righty then, well, should we like, go to your house then?” he asked. I nodded and looked at the nurse.

“Keep ice on it to try and reduce the swelling. There’s not much else you can do other than that.” she said as a dismissal.

I grabbed my stuff off of the chair, flinging my purse onto my shoulder and holding my binder under my left arm while my right hand still held my aching nose.

We walked silently to my bike where I put my crap into the basket. “Wait, did you come here by car or something?” I asked. He nodded and said, “Yea, but since you’re biking I’m sure it won’t be that hard to get tomorrow or something.”

“Yea, you’re right.” I said and we began to walk silently, me wheeling my bike along.

My house was in sights after roughly 5 minutes or so and my eyes had been fixed on the amazing-ness of the ground. I looked over and noticed the bandage circling his left ankle. “What is it?” I asked pointing to the newest member of the Iero tattoo squad.

“Oh, that. Jamia’s name… again.”

He was about to explain when I nodded and said, “Yea, I was wondering why you covered up the other one on your chest.”

He looked at me, slightly shocked that I knew about it but I simply said, “Still a fangirl,” and giggled.

“Well yea, I felt kind of bad about it, but I think this one is a lot nicer. She’ll like it.” he said, a smile creeping onto his face. I felt my heart sink but attempted a smile.

“I’m glad.” I faked, hoping he’d buy it. Fortunately, he didn’t think anything of it and nodded, by then we were already in my garage, parking the bike.

“Wow, you live close.” He said.

“Yea, but I tend to leave the house late so I ride my bike instead. There’s no point in being early to a place that you hate and conversing with people you don’t like.” I said matter-of-factly. He nodded and just kind of stood there. I opened the door connecting into the house and greeted my mom. “Hey mom, I kinda… brought a friend home from… school. Hope you don’t mind.”

She was getting ready to say that I needed to pack but then her eyes focused on Frank. She smiled a little embarrassed and nodded. “I thought you were coming tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sorry, change of plans. Hope we didn’t cause any inconvenience.” He said, genuinely concerned that his arrival was untimely.

“No, no. It’s fine.” She assured him.

“Should we… um, go upstairs?” I asked, my voice trailing off as Frank had suddenly wound up rolling around on the floor playing with the dogs.
I giggled, “The one with the under bite is Chewie, the big soft one is Comet, and the old one is Pongo.” I said petting Comet’s face as she jumped up on my side to say hello.

“They’re really cute.” He said, getting up from the floor. I simply nodded. My mom, as uninformed as she is, asked Frank if he had any pets.
“Yea, five dogs.” He said grinning widely. My mom gave him an ‘are you crazy!’ look and continued what she had been doing in the kitchen.

“Smells good.” I said giving her a hug before heading upstairs. I could hear Frank’s heavy footsteps following, only a few seconds behind.

I looked up at Frank, his eyes staring at my room, my gaze following his. “Oh shit,” I said letting out a low whistle. “Um… yea, it’s better than white walls…” He didn’t say anything, possibly out of fear.

My room was a mess, surprisingly semi-clean now-a-days due to, well; I honestly don’t know why it was clean. For once my laundry was away and all that was strewn were CD’s and my two guitars on their stands in the corner. Everything else seemed pretty decent.
That is, except for the walls.
Four My Chemical Romance posters, one Linkin Park, one Projekt Revolution, and then a whole bunch of printouts pasted to poster board. Could you guess who it was of?
Well, actually, I had a few; half sheets for Gerard, Bob, Mikey, and Ray. Whole sheets for performances and photo shoots… and a whole sheet of Frank.
“At least you don’t like… hate our girlfriends or anything…” he said, noticing the pictures of Mikey and Alicia, himself and Jamia, even Gerard and Lyn Z, since I obviously knew before hand what had been going on.

“Too weird for a girl who talks to Gerard on the phone excessively?” I asked, motioning that he could sit on the surpringly bright colored and unmade bed in the center of the room. He accepted and sat down, breaking his gaze with the dozens of pictures of himself looking at him.

“Nothing is said to the guys, I swear, I thought you were gonna be here tomorrow.” I said, giving him fair warning.

“Okay.” He said, looking down. “Dude, you have the Black Parade twice?” he asked, looking at the piles of CD’s, their own on top.

“Technically, yea. My friend got me the edited version for my birthday and then like, in the summer I bought the Special Limited Edition.” I said.

“That makes sense.” He said nodding, although I doubt he meant it.

“Um… let’s get packing.” I said quietly, retrieving the suitcase I had stashed in my closet for the trip. I unzipped the suitcase and put it on the floor, starting with anything but undergarments; jeans, shoes, shirts.
“Uh…” I said looking into my open dresser. Frank looked up at my moment of hesitation, another low whistle escaping his mouth.
“How many?” he asked shakily.
“…Eight. And, um… a jacket. And a bag… and um… a lot of things…” I said, referring to my MCR merchandise.
“Gerard doesn’t know any of this?” he asked me, incredulously.
“I won’t bring them.” I said, putting them down and instead lifting up a whole stack of bright colorful shirts.
“Dude, that’s different.” He said giggling a little big, despite himself.
“Hey, I have black, and I have colors, and the blacks are mainly your guys’ stuff so you better not complain.”
“Go ahead and pack them, I’m not complaining.” He said, looking away again, his gaze falling onto the acoustic and electric guitars in the corner.

“Wanna play them?” I asked. He nodded sheepishly.
“Firestarter or Boone?” I asked. He looked up at me questioningly. I pointed at the red and orange electric guitar, “Firestarter,” my finger directed his gaze to the acoustic, “Boone.”

“Um… Boone? And explanation?” he said, wanting to know the cause for the guitars’ names.

“Boone, North Carolina. Where I went to Duke TIP program at Appalachian State University.” Again, my finger pointed to show the purple covered Term Book. “Firestarter for the song of a fan-video that I really liked, plus the colors. It just kinda works.” He nodded.
“Can I see the video?”
“Um… just play Boone for a while and let me finish packing first.” I said, reluctantly agreeing. He walked over and picked up the guitar, then took his seat back on the bed.
“You know what I’ve never heard?” I asked him. He looked at me curiously.
“An acoustic My Chemical Romance song. I mean, I have, but they were fans. They were good and all but, I want to hear you play it. Unless you don’t want to.”

“One can’t hurt.” He said, giving me his shamefully adorable grin. I looked away before the melting process began. He began to play softly, I recognized the song as being Cubicles. I was about to ask since I read somewhere that it was Gerard’s least favorite song off of Bullets, but I ended up just singing the lyrics when they would kick in on the CD.

“It’s the tearing sound of love notes/ drowning out these gray stained windows/ and the view outside is sterile/ and I’m only two cubes down/ I photocopy all the things that we could be/ if you took the time to notice me/ but you can’t now/ I don’t blame you/ and it’s not your fault that no one ever does/ but you don’t work here anymore/ it’s just a vacant three by four/ and they might fill your place/ a temporary stand in for your face/ this happens all the time and I can’t help but think I’ll die alone.”

I continued folding and packing as I sang. I snuck a glance over in his direction after “as pinpricks in the velvet catch our fall.” I kept singing even as he looked in my direction, although not noticing that I was watching seeing as my body was turned to the side and I was peeking through a wall of hair hanging over my face.

“Sometimes I think I’ll die alone/ sometimes I think I’ll die alone/ sometimes I think I’ll die alone/ live and breath and die alone.” I sang, standing up straighter so that I could breathe better. Yea, being a Jubilee freak does that to you; makes you focus on vowels and breathing and all that shit.

“Just/ take/ I think I’d love to die/ me/ out/ I think I’d love to die/ just/ take/ I think I’d love to die/ me/ out/ I think I’d love to die alone/ think I’d love to die alone/ think I’d love to die alone/ think I’d love to die alone/ live and breathe and die alone.”

The song ended and I turned my back on Frank as his fingers held still. I opened a drawer and made a face before carefully scooping up the already folded piles and quickly moving them to the suitcase, not wanting Frank to see any of my undergarments. But fortunately, his gaze had turned back to his fingers as he thought of another song to play, finally beginning a song that I didn’t completely recognize, though it sounded familiar. I mean, I couldn’t ask the guy to play all of my favorites, give him some freedom!

He glanced up as I flipped the suitcase shut, fifteen minutes later. “You’re done?” he asked me. “For the most part, yea, pretty much…”
He looked thoughtful, “You should bring the guitars.”
“I can’t play. Barely. I suck.”
“We can teach you.”
“Don’t you have guitars?”
“And if they break?”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“Something smells good.”

I glared at him for changing the subject, although something did smell extremely good tonight.

“Yea, it does.” I said, relaxing.
Right on cue, my mom called from downstairs, “EMILY!… FRANK! DINNER’S ALMOST READY!”

“Okay Mom!” I said, opening the door a crack. I looked apologetically at Frank, “We’re loud people.” He just nodded in understanding and put Boone back on the stand.

“Ya know, you’re a pretty good singer.”
I said nothing. I don’t take compliments well. I just shrugged. He sighed.

“What do you think she made?” he asked.
“Um… something that can be vegetarian I hope.” I said grinning weakly. He looked at me. “I would be, we like meat too much, I try not to eat red meat.”
He just nodded, “I don’t try to like, make everyone a vegetarian or anything.”
“I know, I honestly would though, I’m a picky eater. Been trying to get into since elementary school.”
“Maybe you haven’t tried the right things?” he said, I could hear the hope in his voice and a small smile appeared on my face.
“So what? You’re going to cook for me?”
He laughed.
“I’ve always wanted to try Cajun.” I said winking and then motioning for him to follow me downstairs before he could recognize the direct quote from his mouth.

Alas, I heard him giggle.








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