No One Left To Lie To

Disclaimer: If I had a tear for every time I’ve said My Chemical Romance isn’t mine, we’d be swimming in a bitter ocean, indeed.

No One Left To Lie To
A Frank Iero Story

He lay on his back on the hard mattress, starting disconsolately at the blank hotel ceiling. His usually brilliant hazel eyes were blank and dull, the red eyeliner smeared and running down his stubbly cheeks. In the darkness, the tears that trickled down his face were thin silver lines, and the bloodshot webs in his eyes could not be seen.

Empty beer bottles littered the threadbare grey carpet and crushed packs of cigarettes lay strewn about everywhere. Cigarette butts peppered the soiled white sheets of the rented bed, and the room itself smelt of alcohol, sweat and stale smoke.

Frank Iero lay in the clothes he had been wearing for three days past; torn black jeans, a rumpled black silk shirt and grey and black striped tie. The tie was pulled down and smeared with makeup and tears, the jeans creased with too many days of wear. The shirt had lost its silken shine and had several stains from where beer, sweat or other fluids had spilled.

“Les...”

His voice, which was normally a smooth purr, was harsh from too much smoke and days of violent emotion. At the utterance of the name his eyes once again filled, then drifted shut. Soon he was trapped in the sweet hell that was remembrance, with no one there to wipe his anguished tears...
* * * *

“Frank, I’m–” Her chocolate eyes widened and her slim hand opened convulsively. The bottle of champagne she had been carrying crashed to the carpeted floor and shattered. She stood there, long chestnut hair shining in the muted light of an overcast afternoon, silhouetted against the doorway. With the light spilling in around her, she looked like an angel just fallen, its wings broken and unable to gift her with the escape she needed.

Frank looked around guiltily. When he saw who stood at the door, his eyes widened. But he stood his ground. Caught in such a lie as this, there was nowhere left to run.

“Les, what are you--”

“What is he doing here,” Her voice trembled minutely, but her gaze was steady. Her hands were balled to fists at her sides as she stared at her lover, eyes imploring, almost pleading. For what, only she could know.

Frank took a step forward, half-hiding his visitor from view. His smile was shaky, uneasy, but still he tried his best.

“He just came t-to drop something off--”

“I’m here to bring him back.” The man stepped forward and gently moved Frank to the side with one hand. He was sheathed in darkness and dressed fully in black, but she knew who it was. She would always know.

“You can’t have him.” Her voice still trembled, but was much stronger now. “He would never go back to that.”

To you, she amended silently and raised her chin in defiance.

The man chuckled slightly, and the sound sent a cold needle of doubt into her chest. His arm snaked out to coil around Frank’s shoulders.

“If that were true,” he intoned huskily. “How did I get here? After all, when he left, he didn’t say where he was going.”

Realization hit her like a tidal wave. Staggered, she turned her gaze to Frank, who stood with his eyes on his shoes.

“Frankie,” Her voice was a mere whisper, but it had power over him still. Frank raised his gaze to hers, and she held it firm. “Baby, he’s lying, isn’t he?” Frank did not answer. Desperate, tears thickened her voice as she grit her teeth together in an attempt to keep control. “Tell me he’s lying!”

Frank’s hazel eyes clouded as a film of tears distorted his vision. As they fell they left bloody tracks down his pale face.

“I can’t.” His voice was low and pained, but he held her gaze. God damn him, he held her gaze.

“No.” Her whisper was weak, broken. She shook her head, her silken chestnut hair flying around her in a blur of color and motion. “No!”

She rushed forward and grasped Frank’s hand in both of hers. Her swimming eyes bored into his, pleading, begging.

“Frankie,” Her voice broke. She swallowed, took a deep breath and tried again. “Baby, you wouldn’t leave me. Not now.”

The tears coursed down his cheeks faster now, and his lower lip trembled. His eyes seemed to be speaking to her, pleading with her. But she could no longer hear their plea.

She dropped his hand. Her eyes were wider now and tears dripped freely from her chin. She took a step back; the action rang of finality.

“We’re married!” She gritted painfully, and Frank’s eyes clamped shut. He heard her footsteps retreating toward the door, and managed to look at her for what he feared was the last time.

She stood at semi-profile in the muted light. Her chin was tilted stubbornly upward, the tears shone silver on her pale face. Her eyes were narrowed against the warring emotions within her, and she held something in her hand.

“Go to hell, Frank Iero.” Leslie Valon spat vehemently, and threw something small back into the room to clatter at his feet. “All by yourself.” And she was gone.

Frank looked down to see what shone in the dim light. It had hit his left foot and rolled toward the middle of the room. It seemed to glow, contrasted as it was against the dingy color of the faded carpet.

Her wedding ring.

“Come on, man.” The man spoke quietly and squeezed Frank’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Frank looked from the hand, to the tiny treasure that lay at his feet, and made his decision. He broke from the embrace and went after her.

“Leslie!” He ran up behind her, and was relieved that she had at least stopped running at the sound of his voice. She did not turn, but she stood as he spoke.“Stay with me.”

Leslie turned, not daring to hope, and looked in his eyes.

“You ask me to stay,” Tears still tainted her voice. “But for how long?”

Frank took her into his arms and held her tight. He breathed the heady floral scent of her hair and tried, in vain, to imagine having to live without it.

“Always.”

Leslie pulled back to look into his eyes again. Her voice was gentle, but she did not smile.

“I will stay with you,” Her eyes were grave, and lacked the carefree shine he so loved. “If you can promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

Leslie did smile now, but it was sad. So very sad.

“You’re so quick to agree, but how can you be so sure it’s something you can do?”

Frank was deathly serious.

“Because for you, I’d die, come back and die all over again.”

Her smile faded.

“Death is easy,” she murmured. “But what I’m asking, Frank, is life. And life is much, much harder.”

Frank gazed into her eyes and again promised.

“Anything.”

Leslie took a deep breath and nodded.

“Leave it all behind.” Frank tensed. “And come with me. Stay with me.” Her eyes were wet again. “Always.”

“Les, I...”

“Stay with me. Please.”

“Leslie,”

She tightened her hold on him.

“Frank.” Her eyes were pleading. “Promise.”

“Baby.” His eyes were filling again.

“Stay with me.” Les smiled and cupped his cheek. “Please.”

Frank let his tears fall and swallowed against the anguish that flooded him. He pressed his forehead against hers and luxuriated in the feel of her, the smell of her, one last time.

“I can’t.”

Leslie’s eyes closed painfully and she dropped her head. After a moment she lifted her lips to his and kissed him softly, sweetly, before she turned away.

“What will happen, Frank,” she whispered, then glanced into his eyes for the last time. “When you have no one left to lie to?”

She walked away slowly, deliberately as the wind rose around them. It drowned out the sounds of her footfalls as she faded into the distance, and as the temperature fell, the first raindrops descended from the sky, almost as though heaven were crying for a love that never had a chance to bloom.
* * * *

The low murmur of the T.V. slowly brought Frank back to the present, and he opened his swollen eyes to see a familiar face on the small screen. He watched expressionlessly as he spoke.

“I, um, regret to say that I’m here to make an announcement.” Gerard Way started. He looked decidedly unhappy, and as though he hadn’t had much sleep in the past few days. “Today, we are announcing Frank Iero’s formal resignation from our band, My Chemical Romance.”

The uproar on the screen faded into the background as Frank lit another cigarette and lay back on the filthy bed. He watched the blue smoke drift toward the dingy ceiling and another tear fell.

(Go to hell, Frank Iero. All by yourself.)

His eyes drifted shut.

(What will happen, Frank,)

The cigarette fell to the mattress. Within seconds it began to smoke, and a tiny flame blossomed. Frank’s wedding ring caught the light of the growing fire and seemed to glow like a beacon.

(When you have no one left to lie to?)