Frank Iero: P.A.

The stairs to Gerard’s room are inviting. I climb them with excitement bubbling away in the pit of my stomach. As I round the railing at the top of the stairs I catch sight of the beautiful Gerard Way. He’s propped up against the bed head, his shirt removed, the duvet pulled up to his waist. His beautiful hazel eyes flick up to meet mine, and then he smirks. That smirk is his sexiest accessory, and it’s beckoning me towards him; I go willingly. He reaches out to me when I’m standing beside him, his hands taking hold of my hips. We stay like that for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes with lazy smiles on our lips. He winks at me, and before I know what’s happening I’m lying on top of him.

“Hello,” he smirks.

“Now that wasn’t very fair, Mr. Way,” I complain sardonically.

He winks at me again. Then he lunges forward, pushing me onto my back and somehow managing to straddle my waist around the restriction of the blankets. “All’s fair in love, war, and paper boat racing,” he says seductively.

I consider his words. Giving my best sultry look, I ask, “And which one is this?”

Gerard drops himself down, pinning me to the bed under his weight. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and then lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is heated, passionate. I grip the back of his neck to pull him into me further while my other hand tangles in his long jet black hair. My desire for him grows. Just as I move to deepen the kiss further he pulls back.

“You tell me,” he replies.

I recall his statement. “Well, it’s certainly not paper boat racing... it doesn’t feel like war... but it isn’t love either...”

He presses a sweet kiss to the tip of my nose. “It could be...”

Fuck my inhibitions.

I find the strength within me to push him from me and tackle him. On top of him once again, I choose to dominate. Our lips collide in another passionate kiss. My tongue slides into his mouth easily and dances with his. Everything feels amazing, perfect; this is how things should be.

His hands travel to my hips, starting to push my shirt up. We break the kiss briefly so he can rid me of my shirt, reconnecting our lips once it’s flung to the floor. His fingers ghost over my back, sending chills down my spine. I let my hands roam his body, too; it feels just as soft as I expected. As our kiss deepens further, I feel his hands run down my back until they reach the top of my jeans. He rubs his hands over the denim pockets, squeezes, then brings them around in between our stomachs. The strain against my hard on has become unbearable, so I let out a relieved moan into his mouth when he pops the button and releases me.

“You seem very happy, Frank,” he whispers suggestively against my lips. I mumble a ‘yes’ back. “Allow me to make you even happier...”

My boxers are pushed aside and I feel his fingers take cold of me. The contact pulls another moan from me, causing him to smile against my lips.

Gerard rolls us over so I’m underneath him once more. He removes his lips from mine. Slowly, he places a trail of sweet little kisses from my neck down to my hips. He smiles up at me and looks ready to take me in his mouth.

“Frank, you’re–”

My eyes fly open. I remain still, blinking several times. Flashes of everything that went through my mind come back to me. Did I seriously just dream that? Did I seriously just dream that Gerard Way – my best friend, my boss – was about to blow me. I’m choosing to completely ignore that fact that in my dream I kissed him back. That means absolutely nothing – absolutely, positively, nothing.

Get a grip, Frank. I need to get back to sleep and dream of something – anything – else. I roll from my back onto my side so I’m facing the fireplace. The second I do I almost hit the ceiling; Gerard’s bent over the fireplace. I certainly hadn’t been expecting him to be in here, especially not by the fire; what is he even doing up at this hour? My brain says to question him, but something within me suggests that staying quiet and observing him would be a better option.

He is carefully extinguishing the flames. When he’s done, I see his silhouette tip toe past me. Instead of leaving the living room as I expect, he plonks himself down on the sofa. Worried he may be able to see I’m awake, I close my eyes again and keep as still as possible. I listen intently for any sound of movement.

I hear him sigh heavily.

“Oh, Frank,” he says quietly, “what have I done to you?”

To my relief, his question is rhetorical and aimed at himself. I keep up my faux sleep, hoping he’ll say more. The room remains silent apart from the occasional crackle of dying embers. After what feels like an eternity, I hear him get up; he must be headed back to bed.

His footsteps come closer to me; my heart beats faster, hammering against my rib cage so hard that surely Gerard could hear it. I swallow hard when I realise he’s knelt down next to me. Please, just let him think I’m still asleep.

“I know why I didn’t stop that kiss sooner,” I strain to hear; his voice is almost inaudible, “but why didn’t you?”

His hand ghosts over my cheek. I try to contain the shiver that shoots through me at his sudden touch, but it rips through my body like a runaway train. Maybe Gerard didn’t feel it? I hope he didn’t feel it.

I hear him straighten and his footsteps retreat. Knowing Gerard’s history of hiding in the shadows, I remain unmoved and keep my breathing as even as I can. In my head I count the passing seconds. When I reach five minutes and he hasn’t returned, I breathe out a sigh of relief and roll over once again. The events of the past few minutes have been super weird. Why didn’t Gerard go straight back to his room after putting out the fire? Why did he touch me? Why I even bother asking myself these questions? Face it, Frank, you’ll never know the answers.



A mild light streams in through the windows when I next wake up. I look up to the clock on the mantel piece; it’s nine twenty-three. I’m surprised Gerard hasn’t been in here to wake me; he’s not a fan of sleeping in, whether it’s him doing it or someone else. He’s kind of an ass like that.

As I stretch out and pull the covers from myself, I notice there is another blanket on me that wasn’t there before. Strange... Gerard must have come back in a second time during the night – I know for sure that it wasn’t there after I woke up from my dream.

Oh, well – don’t concentrate on the unimportant.

Clattering rings out from the kitchen. I’m still a little jumpy after being out in those conditions last night, so I flinch at the sound. I pad out into the hallway to see what’s going on. From my vantage point I can see next to nothing, so I make way in further.

“Morning,” Gerard says.

Okay, seriously, his back is to me, I didn’t make a sound – how the hell did he hear me come in?

“Hi,” I reply awkwardly.

He swivels around, carrying a stack of pots he’s just washed up. “How are you feeling?”

As if on cue, I sneeze. “I’ve been better,” I tell him truthfully.

I watch his face change from a look of mild concern, to a look of recognition, to guilt. He quickly bends down to a cupboard to put away the dishes, but it was too late – I saw everything that went through his mind. He was thinking about finding me out in that storm, then remembered what caused me to run – the incident – and that he was the one who caused it. But what he doesn’t know is that I know that he’s questioning my role in the whole thing. I did nothing, and that’s the problem; I should have made some effort to stop him, and I didn’t.

“There’s some, uh, food for you in the oven,” he says awkwardly from his knelt position on the floor. When he stands he says, “I’m going to pack.”

I listen to the sound of his bare feet tap on the wooden steps as he makes his way to his bedroom; when the sound fades I rest my forehead against the refrigerator door. I can tell that this will be a day controlled by another one of Gerard’s moods. Great.

Once I compose myself, I recall Gerard’s earlier statement about food. In the oven I find Gerard has left me a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Not five star dining, but hey, after the night I had, I’d opt for anything hot. I place the warm plate on the breakfast bar and go about fixing myself a cup of coffee. To my displeasure, I end up sneezing repeatedly throughout breakfast. Note to self: never run away in the middle of the night during the cold part of the year when the weather report suggests a high chance of rain.

Gerard, as if he’s been watching and waiting, comes back downstairs just as I finish washing up my things from breakfast. He’s got his bag in one hand, canvases in the other, and an easel tucked under his arm. I watch him as he descends; he avoids all eye contact. Yep, Gerard’s definitely in one of his moods.

He walks past me and a few seconds later I hear the front door open. As I realise what he is doing it occurs to me that I should really track down my own things. With that in mind, I put away the last of the dishes and trudge down the hallway to my room. I look about but nothing of mine is in here. Surely Gerard didn’t leave my things out there in that storm last night.

“Your stuff’s in the car,” Gerard calls behind me, causing me to jump slightly. He comes closer, his footsteps echoing in the quiet cottage. “I didn’t think it was worth bringing your soaked luggage in, getting water everywhere, only to take it back out to the car ten hours later.”

I sneeze, to which I receive a giggle for. I say, “I doubt your Maserati would agree with you on that one.”

“It’ll dry out eventually,” he responds dismissively, as if he weren’t talking about a vehicle worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. “Besides, I’m sure the owners don’t want any more damage left to this place by the Way family.”

His tone is light, but I feel like there’s more to those words. “Any more damage?” I question. “You mean there’s more than just the stain in the living room?”

He side steps around me and walks over to the bed I’ve been sleeping in. The covers are drawn back hurriedly and then the bottom sheet is pulled away from the mattress. Gerard points his finger to a smattering of brown stains on the mattress just below where the pillow sits. My first reaction is to book myself in for a tetanus shot because that, and I don’t even know what that is, is what I’ve been sleeping on, but I quickly realise that there’s a story behind this stain and if it were dangerous Gerard would have told me it prior to this moment... I hope.

“When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city,” he begins. “It was my first visit to a place that would later form another one of my addictions.” He pauses dramatically, worrying me about what this place could be. “Starbucks.”

I roll my eyes. “I thought it was something serious.”

“Frank,” he says, his tone grave, “Starbucks is very serious.” I roll my eyes again and he smirks. “Anyway, Dad took me to Starbucks to get hot chocolate for everyone. Because Mikey was so young we got him the smallest size. He want more and was jealous that I had a Venti, so he tackled me for what was left of mine,” he says, smirking now, “and in doing that, he spilt it all over the bed.”

“And it never came out?” I ask.

“Only out of the sheets,” he says with a wink.

He returns the bed to its original state and leaves the room without another word. Ordinarily, I’d be reasonably happy in this situation, but seeing as I’ve been given no further explanation as to what I am supposed to do, I’m a little pissed. I quickly scan the room to make sure I haven’t left anything behind, then step out into the hallway and pull the door shut gently. Gerard enters the hallway from the kitchen just as I do this.

“Ready to go?” he asks, although I think we’ll be leaving anyway regardless of what answer I give.

“Yeah, sure,” I reply.

He nods curtly and walks out into the living room. Over his shoulder he calls, “We’ll get you some cough syrup on the way back for that cold you’ve developed.”

That’s very considerate of him, I think to myself. It’s almost as if he’s trying to take care of me, as if he feels like it’s his fault I’m sick when really it’s mine; I was the one that ran off into the night like a child. I want to thank him for thinking of my health, but when I look up the front door is open and he is gone.

Back to reality, I guess.