Frank Iero: P.A.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Squelch.

A new sound. It’s more frightening than any of the others. Why? Because it is travelling toward me.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Squelch.

The rain is still bucketing down, whatever has been making the rumbling noise hasn’t moved, yet that squelching noise, while not the loudest, is what my ears are trained on. My eyes are still scrunched shut – there’s no way I can bear to look; I don’t want to see what will most probably kill me.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Squelch.

I scream. A loud, bloodcurdling, I’m-about-to-die scream, as something latches onto my elbow.

I go into defence mode. Hitting, punching, kicking, all the while still screaming, just hoping whatever it is will let me go. Whatever it is seizes my right wrist with such strength that I can no longer fight back.

“Frank!” My names is yelled above all the noise, so clear, so perfect. “Frank, stop... it’s me, Gerard.”

Gerard?

I open my eyes cautiously.

Gerard...

“Gerard!” I shout, through sobs. I’ve never been so glad to hear that man’s voice, to see his face.

The overwhelming emotion of being found takes control of me, and I throw myself at Gerard. My arms wrap around his torso, my fingers gripping onto the thick woollen material of his jumper that is quickly becoming as soaked as I am. I allow myself to cry, to sob; I don’t care if I look stupid, pathetic, or immature – the fear I had just a few minutes ago was so much worse than all of that combined.

“I was so scared,” I say into his chest, not sure if he can even hear me above the noise.

His arms envelope me, and the feeling of him there, holding me, warming me, makes me hold him to my tighter than before. Right now I need this; I need the feeling of not being alone out here.
After a minute or so, his arms fall away from me. I don’t release him, though; I continue to grip his jumper, my body doesn’t stop shaking, and the tears and sobs show no signs of stopping. Despite my obvious need for human contact, he pries me off, taking me by the elbows and pulling my arms away. I fall back to sit on my knees and grip my face in my hands so he can’t see just how much I’m crying.

The next thing I know, I’m being lifted up from the ground. I remove my hands and see that Gerard is carrying me bridal style away from the shelter of the trees. We’re heading toward the lights, and that’s when I realise that the lights, the rumbling noise, was Gerard’s Maserati. How the fuck he does it I don’t know, but he manages to get the door open without me even dropping down an inch in his arms. He then gently lowers me into the front seat and shuts the door. I watch his silhouette retreat into the storm for a moment through clouded eyes, then turn my attention back to where I am.

The warmth of the car embraces my whole body. Slowly, the sensation in my fingers starts to come back. I move my hands right up to the vents and keep them there until they feel warm again. Tears still leak from my eyes, but they’ve diminished considerably. I glance around the car, taking in everything. My eyes fall onto the dashboard; the note I scrawled out earlier is sitting there. I notice some of the letters have run, but it’s still as legible as before.



Gerard must have found the note and came to find me after the rain had started.

Oh, my God...

Gerard Way tried to find me.

After everything that’s happened between us, after all the disinterest, attitude, sarcasm, and ignorance he’d been aiming at me for the past few months, he actually chased after me when I ran away. I can hardly believe it, but I have to, because here I am sitting soaking wet on his expensive leather seats at – I check the clock on the radio – at 2:16 am after leaving him with just five words, of which one was my name.

He reappears in the haze of the headlights, carrying my gym bag, Pansy, and the amp. I assume he goes to put it all in the trunk because he bypasses my door and doesn’t come in through his for another minute. When he does take his position behind the wheel he stays silent as he performs a smooth three point turn and drives back to the cottage. I curl into myself in my seat and try to get my body temperature back to where it should be; my convulsions have almost subsided, thankfully. My eyes close as I revel in the fact that I am no longer outside. When I have the courage to talk again, I’ll have to thank Gerard for everything, but right now, I just need to rest.



I half open my eyes as I feel my surroundings change. What I see is dark burgundy material, the same material Gerard’s sweater is made of. Within moments I feel the rain hit me with the cold wind in full force. For the second time this evening I’m being carried by Gerard. He takes me from the car to inside the cottage and places me carefully down on the rug. It’s warm in here, but not as warm as it was in the car, so I begin to shiver again.

He moves about the living room expertly setting up the fireplace until it roars to life. As the wooden logs burn and produce some much needed heat, Gerard disappears from the room. I scoot forward on my knees until I’m barely two feet from the blazing orange flames so I can warm my hands and hopefully dry off a little.

Heavy footsteps sound behind me; Gerard’s back. I see him kneel beside me out of the corner of my eye. His hand goes to the zip of my hoodie. I flinch. This doesn’t faze him, though; he continues to unzip my soaked hoodie before pulling the heavy garment from my shoulders. He adjusts his position on the floor so we’re facing each other. His long, nimble fingers go to the hem of my shirt. When he starts to lift the material he locks our eyes, silently asking my permission. I tilt my head down in agreement, but keep my eyes fixed on his. He delicately peels the shirt from my stomach and then over my head as I lift my tired arms. There’s a small pile of clothing beside his legs and from that he takes a black t-shirt and hands it to me to put on; I notice that while I’m without a shirt his eyes wander the room and they don’t fall back on me until a sufficient amount of time has passed for me to cover myself. His hands seem to be headed for my belt and suddenly my stomach twists into knots and my breathing stalls. When they’re only an inch from the buckle they pause. I look up to Gerard and find that he looks as awkward and uneasy as I feel. He picks up the pile beside him and hands it to me, then he is on his feet again making a swift exit from the room.

I look to the clothing I’ve been given; checkered boxer shorts, woollen socks, and a pair of blue tartan pyjamas that looks strikingly similar to what Mikey wore when I met him. I remove my jeans and underwear, and then put on everything Gerard has given me. They smell just like Gerard and feel as warm as he does when you hug him. Why the hell did I notice that?

Once I shake that horrible observation from my head, I sit back down in front of the fire. There’s still a chill to my body but I feel much toastier than I did earlier.

Gerard comes back a couple of minutes later holding a steaming mug in his right hand and a plate of toast in his left. When he reaches me he lowers them down until I take them from his grasp. He sits down again, but this time on the couch, not the floor. He’s purposefully putting distance between us, and knowing that feels like a stab in the gut.

“Thank you,” I say genuinely, breaking the awkward silence.

“I never wanted you to run away,” he replies quietly, not looking at me. He’s talking about the kiss.
I don’t want to think about what happened on that couch just a few hours ago; I avert my gaze back to the fireplace trying to think of a different topic. I glance down at what I’m wearing – that’ll do.

“So, do you and Mikey often buy matching pyjamas?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Ellie bought them for us last Christmas.”

I risk a glance toward him; he’s smiling, just a little, but a smile is a smile. Christmas must have been one of the last things they were able to truly celebrate. This topic has now become as awkward as that of the incident.

“It was a gag gift,” he says a moment later when he notices he’s not getting a reply. “She had always said that we were so alike we might as well have been twins, so she thought it’d be hilarious to buy us both matching items for Christmas.” He pauses. “There were the pyjamas, matching black and white striped ties, and matching black vests.” There’s another pause. I feel obliged to look up; he’s already looking at me, but seems a lot more comfortable than he was earlier. “I don’t know how much snooping you’ve done in my bedroom, but on my bedside table there’s a photo of Mikey and I wearing the vests and ties.”

I think back to that night he fixed up my hand and what I’d seen while he was in his ensuite. Damn. The side tables were about the only surface I didn’t scrutinize. At least now I know who the other little boy was in that framed photograph on his desk.

“Anyway,” Gerard says, “we’ll be leaving later this morning, so we should get some sleep. Here,” He takes the thick blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch and passes it to me, “get under this. You’ll be better off sleeping by the fire tonight.” He stands up and heads for the hallway. “Goodnight, Frank.”

“Night,” I say back. “And thank you again, for coming to find me.”

There’s no response from Gerard, so I assume he’s already on his way up the stairs. I unfold the blanket and wrap myself up in it, then lay down on the rug, a little further back from the flame.

“I’m really sorry, Frank,” is whispered from the hallway. I almost think I’ve imagined it, but I haven’t, because I hear the distinct sound of Gerard’s footsteps walking away.

I snuggle beneath the blanket and shut my eyes, preparing myself for sleep. Words form on my lips that I’m terrified to let out, terrified for anyone to hear. I swear to myself I can hold them in. But just as I feel sleep starting to take over, the words fall from my mouth.

“I’m not...”