Frank Iero, You Are My Hero

Mercy sat through the photo shoot silently, well aware of the glares she was getting from the people who worked on the set. Surprisingly, she didn’t get any from the guys of the band. She had thought that they would be severely pissed off about her ditching the shoot, but they didn’t seem to be. They laughed and carried on like usual. Another thing that she was well aware of was the fact that Frank’s eyes kept flitting over to her. It was starting to make her more nervous than usual, but she brushed it off. Frank was weird. Plain and simple.

After the shoot, they all pulled on their jackets, shook the director’s hand, and then left. Mercy was the first one out of the doors, makeup bag in hand and her strides long to get on the bus as soon as it was possible. The next stop was Detroit, thank goodness. That meant no more stopping for stupid photo shoots. Unless the guys were hiding something from her, but that seemed unlikely.

She stepped onto the bus and stowed away her bag beneath the kitchen table before sprawling out on the couch, face down into the pillow. Mercy could hear clambering as the guys came onto the bus and then a huge weight landed in the middle of her back. Mercy let out an ‘oomph’ as her body jolted from the contact. She turned her body slightly, trying to get a good look at the culprit. Frank.

“Frank, get the fuck off of me, you fat cow,” she said, swatting at his leg.

He laughed maniacally and dodged her hand, moving his body on her back, making her grunt and moan as his body weight moved into different places. “For one, my darling Merc, I’m not fat. I’m sexy. Get it right. And for two, you happen to be extremely comfortable. So I think I’ll stay here,” he told her, sticking his tongue out.

Mature. Real fucking mature.

Her blue eyes shifted to the other guys, who were scattered around, watching with amusement. She scowled and pointed a finger in their general direction. “Just to let you know, if you don’t get this crazy person off of me, you’re going to have to look for a new guitarist,” she warned.

Frank let out a girlish squeal and jumped off of her, apparently thinking that she was extremely serious in her murder thoughts. Mercy sat up and pulled her legs underneath her, curling up in the corner of the couch. She suddenly felt a little awkward. She had never really hung out with these guys, so she wasn’t sure how they acted, or how she was supposed to act around them. Mercy bit at her bottom lip as she looked between them. It seemed they were all staring at her, as if waiting for something to happen.

That was fine by her. She was used to being the source of amusement for her friends. Mainly because she was so unafraid of saying what she was thinking, whereas they could barely go up to the guy they liked and say ‘hi’. Mercy thought that was stupid and immature, but whatever. They could do whatever the hell they pleased, right?

“Alright, Mercy. Would you like to explain to us what happened in there?” Gerard asked, crossing one leg over the other as he propped his head up with his hand, his eyes on hers.

She looked between the guys once more. So that was what they were wanting. They were wanting to know why she flipped shit back there, why she backed out of the shoot like an idiot. Mercy figured that they deserved to know, that she had no right keeping that from them, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a little hesitant about telling them that she just didn’t like being in the spotlight. Or conforming.

“Do I have to?” she asked, her brow furrowing together.

Ray grinned broadly. “Actually, you do. Otherwise, we’re going to sick Frank on you again.”

Okay, that wasn’t cool at all.

Frank scowled over at Ray. “I’m not a dog! You can’t just sick me on someone,” he said, before grinning over at Mercy. “Although, I wouldn’t mind jumping on you again, so don’t think you’re getting out of this one, missy.”

She sighed heavily and brought her arms around her legs. “I just felt like an idiot. I hate being in the spotlight, hate having all those eyes on me. Also, there was no way in hell he was getting ‘peppy’ out of me. I’m not peppy, and I don’t act either,” she said, jutting her chin out slightly in defiance.

The guys exchanged looks, then almost simultaneously, they shrugged. They shrugged. As if it wasn’t that big of a deal. Mercy was shocked, to say the least. She was still expecting them to be pissed because she threw off the shoot. But they weren’t. These guys were way better than she expected them to be. Maybe she could like them. Maybe.

Mercy peered at the Nightmare Before Christmas clock that was set up over the fridge and grimaced. Four o’clock. They still had hours before they could even consider going to sleep. The bus rumbled and shook as the driver started the engine, and then jolted as he pulled out of the parking lot. Mercy let out a small shriek as she was jolted into the wall next to her. Pretty hard too. What the fuck was wrong with the driver? Didn’t he realize that people were in the back?!

“Owwww,” Mercy moaned, grabbing her head. A nice little bump was already starting to form. She hadn’t hit the wall too hard, but Mercy just bruised easily. Bob used to joke that she was like a little porcelain doll. One wrong move, and she was broken. Already she had broken at least five bones. And she’s had numerous fractures, sprains, bruises, cuts, etc. She was a certified klutz at times.

“Are you okay?” Bob asked, moving towards his little sister.

She removed her hand from her head and peered at it, noticing a little bit of blood on it. Fantastic. This was just fucking great. Bob noticed the blood and shook his head, moving back a few more paces. He hated blood. You would think after growing up around Mercy that he was used to it, but she doubted that her brother would ever get over that one.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…bleeding,” Mercy responded, wincing slightly.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” Frank said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes when no one else offered to help the girl.

Despite what she wanted to do, Mercy knew that she didn’t want blood all in her hair, so she stood and followed Frank into the bathroom, grabbing the wall along the way as she fought of dizziness. A thought entered her head as she turned the corner to walk into the bathroom. She sure as hell hoped they had insurance.

“Sit,” Frank ordered, motioning towards the toilet.

Mercy scowled. “I’m bleeding, not dying, you fucking idiot. You don’t have to order me around.”

He sighed and sent her a pleading look. “Please, sit.”

She rolled her eyes and sat heavily on the toilet after making sure the lid was down so that her ass didn’t get stuck. Mercy watched as he looked through the cabinets, looking for something to clean her up with. After finally finding some cotton balls and peroxide, he turned back towards her. Frank moved to where he was standing right in front of her, towering over her small frame. Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. Must he always invade her bubble?

Frank moved her hair to get a good look at the cut, then poured some peroxide on one of the cotton balls before pressing it to her head. Mercy let out a gasp as it started burning and her hands went out to grasp at Frank’s pants, her knuckles going white as she tightened her hold on him. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh come on Merc. Don’t be a baby. It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Frank murmured as he pressed the ball to her wound once more.

Tears of pain sprung to her eyes and she forced them to stay right where they were. He was right. She was being a baby. One would think after the numerous wounds she had had, that this wouldn’t phase her. Mercy just didn’t do well with pain. Like Bob didn’t do well with blood.

He finished cleaning the wound and was about to turn around, when he stopped suddenly. Mercy still held a death grip on his pants legs. Frank let out another chuckle and sat the things on the counter, then grabbed her hands, forcing her to let go. Afterwards, he crouched down in front of her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he brought his eyes to her level.

“Much better,” he told her.

Mercy realized that he still held her hands in his. A part of her wanted to tug them away, then shove him out of her little bubble, but the other part of her, the insane part, didn’t. The two sides of her battled internally, and sadly, the insane part won.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning her eyes away from him.

His hand went to her jaw, making her look at him. “You really do suck at saying ‘thank you’.”

She scowled and was about to say something extremely mean, but his lips caught hers in a swift kiss. Her blue eyes went wide and she stiffened her body. Was he…?He was. He was kissing her. But before she could even react more than that, he pulled away and left her there on the toilet, still in shock.