If Only Love Had Found Us First
Chapter One - Departure
Frank's P.O.V.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Iero, Mr. Way. There was nothing we could do," The doctor sighed. "The damage was too severe. He didn't make it." I looked the man in the eyes, checking for any sign that he was lying. Any sign that my husband was still alive. I found none.
That's right, I said husband. I, Frank Anthony Iero, am gay. I have been, officially, since I was around fifteen years old. Since I met Gerard, I told myself, tears finally starting to well up in my eyes. Mikey, Gerard's brother, had already been crying since the doctor came out of Gee's room, a solemn look on his face. Once the tears hit me, I knew I was fucked. I knew I'd never stop crying. I grabbed Mikey and pulled him closer to me. He leaned his head on mine, and I thought I could feel my hair being lifted slightly, as if he was smelling it. Chances are, though, he was just sniffling from crying. Squeezing my brother-in-law with all the strength I could manage, I let out a long sigh, millions of thoughts running through my mind. Mainly though, I thought of grade ten, the first day of school.
I walked nervously into the classroom, looking around for anyone that might have a real personality. Someone who wasn't afraid to be who they really were. My eyes stung just from a quick glance around the room: Bleached blond hair and tight pink tops. It was everything I'd tried to get away from. I looked down at the ground and took a seat in the back of the room, not paying attention to any of the looks I'd gotten from the cardboard cutouts around me. Zoning out from the world, I waited for lunch to come, where maybe I could find a group of punks, older or younger, to accept me.
I remember, my hopes came true. Almost. Instead of a group, I found just one boy. Sitting under the biggest tree in the yard, he was wearing a tight black Anthrax t-shirt, headphones covering his ears. He wore glasses, on the very tip of his nose. I walked up to him cautiously. He watched me with the same amount of awareness, eyes filled with what could have been fear. I stood in front of him, motioning silently for him to take off his headphones.
"Could I sit here, maybe?" I asked. The boy nodded, motioning to a patch of grass on his left. I smiled weakly at him, checking his face for any sign that he didn't really want me there. The look I got back was a semi-smirk, and instead of the usual intimidation it would have given me, I felt warmth. We spent the rest of our lunch hour talking about music, what we did for fun, and, of course, ourselves. I learned that the boy's name was Mikey Way. He was gay, and since this was Jersey, didn't really make friends because of it. I told him who I was, Frank Iero, and that I didn't really know what I was. He seemed to understand, just nodding as I talked. It was an instant friendship. He even invited me over to his house that evening for dinner. I accepted immediately. We had continued to talk about everything and nothing for the rest of the break, both letting out angry sighs when the bell rang to go back inside.
That evening I made sure I looked perfect. I had on a plain black top and tight black jeans, held up with a studded pink belt. My eyes were outlined in black eyeliner, which itself was circled in hot pink eyeshadow. My hair covered my left eye, straightened and gelled so it wouldn't curl up. I was excited, no doubt. I'm not sure so much if it was meeting Mikey's parents that frightened me, or if it was finally having someone I could relate to. The world seemed to dance around me as I walked down the street to my new friend's house. I forgot to look over my shoulder every few minutes like my mom had warned me to. I just skipped along the street, getting looks from people I passed. But I didn't care. I was too happy to care. And it could only get better.
When I reached the door to the Way house, a man was already sitting on the front step, smoking a cigarette and drawing. His black hair was swept over his face, sheilding him from the world. He was wearing a leather jacket over a Misfits shirt, and tight black jeans. My heart beat a little faster as I watched him, his expressions changing from frustration to relief in a mere instant. He looked up at me, somewhat disturbed. I guess he caught me looking.
"Yeah?" He grunted, turning back to his work. He took a final drag on his smoke and flicked it to the ground, stretching his leg to butt it out. I gulped.
"Sorry," I blushed. "Um, I'm Frank. Is this the where Mikey lives?" The man nodded, cocking his head to the side as he brought his eyes back up to mine.
"Yeah, I'm his brother, Gerard," He said angrily. "What d'you want with Mikey?"
"Well... He asked me to come for dinner tonight," I mumbled. "Maybe I heard him wrong, I should go." I turned on my heel to leave.
"Wait!" Gerard called, and I turned back around. "I was just fucking with you. 'Course Mikes told me who you were. Hasn't actually shut up about you..." Gerard pondered this thought for a second, before continuing. "Anyways, don't know why he invited you, tonight of all nights. Donna's not home, so it's me cooking. Hope you like take-out."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Iero, Mr. Way. There was nothing we could do," The doctor sighed. "The damage was too severe. He didn't make it." I looked the man in the eyes, checking for any sign that he was lying. Any sign that my husband was still alive. I found none.
That's right, I said husband. I, Frank Anthony Iero, am gay. I have been, officially, since I was around fifteen years old. Since I met Gerard, I told myself, tears finally starting to well up in my eyes. Mikey, Gerard's brother, had already been crying since the doctor came out of Gee's room, a solemn look on his face. Once the tears hit me, I knew I was fucked. I knew I'd never stop crying. I grabbed Mikey and pulled him closer to me. He leaned his head on mine, and I thought I could feel my hair being lifted slightly, as if he was smelling it. Chances are, though, he was just sniffling from crying. Squeezing my brother-in-law with all the strength I could manage, I let out a long sigh, millions of thoughts running through my mind. Mainly though, I thought of grade ten, the first day of school.
I walked nervously into the classroom, looking around for anyone that might have a real personality. Someone who wasn't afraid to be who they really were. My eyes stung just from a quick glance around the room: Bleached blond hair and tight pink tops. It was everything I'd tried to get away from. I looked down at the ground and took a seat in the back of the room, not paying attention to any of the looks I'd gotten from the cardboard cutouts around me. Zoning out from the world, I waited for lunch to come, where maybe I could find a group of punks, older or younger, to accept me.
I remember, my hopes came true. Almost. Instead of a group, I found just one boy. Sitting under the biggest tree in the yard, he was wearing a tight black Anthrax t-shirt, headphones covering his ears. He wore glasses, on the very tip of his nose. I walked up to him cautiously. He watched me with the same amount of awareness, eyes filled with what could have been fear. I stood in front of him, motioning silently for him to take off his headphones.
"Could I sit here, maybe?" I asked. The boy nodded, motioning to a patch of grass on his left. I smiled weakly at him, checking his face for any sign that he didn't really want me there. The look I got back was a semi-smirk, and instead of the usual intimidation it would have given me, I felt warmth. We spent the rest of our lunch hour talking about music, what we did for fun, and, of course, ourselves. I learned that the boy's name was Mikey Way. He was gay, and since this was Jersey, didn't really make friends because of it. I told him who I was, Frank Iero, and that I didn't really know what I was. He seemed to understand, just nodding as I talked. It was an instant friendship. He even invited me over to his house that evening for dinner. I accepted immediately. We had continued to talk about everything and nothing for the rest of the break, both letting out angry sighs when the bell rang to go back inside.
That evening I made sure I looked perfect. I had on a plain black top and tight black jeans, held up with a studded pink belt. My eyes were outlined in black eyeliner, which itself was circled in hot pink eyeshadow. My hair covered my left eye, straightened and gelled so it wouldn't curl up. I was excited, no doubt. I'm not sure so much if it was meeting Mikey's parents that frightened me, or if it was finally having someone I could relate to. The world seemed to dance around me as I walked down the street to my new friend's house. I forgot to look over my shoulder every few minutes like my mom had warned me to. I just skipped along the street, getting looks from people I passed. But I didn't care. I was too happy to care. And it could only get better.
When I reached the door to the Way house, a man was already sitting on the front step, smoking a cigarette and drawing. His black hair was swept over his face, sheilding him from the world. He was wearing a leather jacket over a Misfits shirt, and tight black jeans. My heart beat a little faster as I watched him, his expressions changing from frustration to relief in a mere instant. He looked up at me, somewhat disturbed. I guess he caught me looking.
"Yeah?" He grunted, turning back to his work. He took a final drag on his smoke and flicked it to the ground, stretching his leg to butt it out. I gulped.
"Sorry," I blushed. "Um, I'm Frank. Is this the where Mikey lives?" The man nodded, cocking his head to the side as he brought his eyes back up to mine.
"Yeah, I'm his brother, Gerard," He said angrily. "What d'you want with Mikey?"
"Well... He asked me to come for dinner tonight," I mumbled. "Maybe I heard him wrong, I should go." I turned on my heel to leave.
"Wait!" Gerard called, and I turned back around. "I was just fucking with you. 'Course Mikes told me who you were. Hasn't actually shut up about you..." Gerard pondered this thought for a second, before continuing. "Anyways, don't know why he invited you, tonight of all nights. Donna's not home, so it's me cooking. Hope you like take-out."