Frank Iero: P.A.

It’s after midnight and, despite my body screaming for sleep, I’m camped out in the living room waiting for Gerard to return home with a thermos of hot chocolate at the ready. Considering the magnitude of the argument we had earlier, it’d be expected of me to be seething in my room throwing darts at a photo of Gerard’s face, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it; his brother has cancer – throwing a dart in his face wouldn’t be fair. I should be trying to ‘sleep’ on all the words we said to each other. I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. Something tells me that I need to talk to him about this – tonight. Not for me, not for my conscience, but for Gerard.

As the clock ticks by the seconds I’m feeling more and more anxious. He could be really stressed out right now. What if he’s turned back to alcohol to sooth his problems? If he’s started drinking again because of what I said I’ll never forgive myself. The man may irritate me to no end, but I don’t want him to relapse.

I finally hear Gerard’s key turn in the lock. My heart rate increases as I hear him enter the front hallway. I stand and step out to meet him.

“Frank...” he says when he notices me. He looks a surprised to see me standing there, but he quickly masks it with his usual stony expression. “You’re up late.”

He starts walking past me. I seize his wrist. The look he gives me tells me to let go, keep my mouth shut, and disappear. I, being the unreliable P.A. I am, do none of that.

“Gerard, we have to talk about what happened earlier,” I say firmly.

He weakly attempts to tug his wrist free of my grasp. “Look, Frank – it’s been a long night and I’m tired.”

I loosen my grip, but don’t let go entirely. This makes him actually look at me. I stare into his eyes and say softly, sincerely, “Then tell me about it.”

We continue to look into each other’s eyes. His hazel eyes are somewhat unnerving, but I keep my focus. I will not be the first one to look away.

Gerard sighs. “Okay, Frank, you win.”

I let go of his wrist and he leads the way into the living room. The hot chocolate I prepared earlier is still steaming hot in its thermos. I fix him a cup and wait for him to start talking. It takes a while, but I would wait all night if that’s how long he needed to process everything.

“Mikey, my brother... he’s been the most important part of my life since I was three and a half. We’ve always been close,” he begins. That’s all he says for a while. He just sits with his hot chocolate between his hands, staring straight ahead. He turns his head to me, and I swear his eyes have tears in them. “I’m his big brother – it should be me who goes through all this stuff first, if at all.” I touch his arm gently and continue to look into his eyes, urging him to go on. “He has acute myeloid Leukaemia.”

“Leukaemia...” I repeat; pieces of the Gerard puzzle are starting to fall into place. “That’s the same thing that boy you did a request for had. Is that why you did it?”

He just nods. It takes him another minute before he says anything else.

“He was diagnosed eight months ago. Since then it’s been a traumatic combination of chemotherapy and sickness. His entire system is out of whack.” He sighs heavily, leaning forward. “Sometimes it gets too much for his wife to handle, so I step in and help out – cooking, cleaning, helping Mikey shower... whatever they need.”

“That’s where you go all the time, then...to their place?” I ask. I want to make sure I’ve got it all right.

“That, and the hospital,” he replies. “I go with him to his chemotherapy sessions when his wife can’t bring herself to go.” He shakes his head. “She loves him so much – this is tearing her apart.”

“But what about you?” I say. “This obviously isn’t easy for you either; you love him, too.”

He turns to me, looking straight into my eyes. “When you love someone the way she loves him, seeing them in pain makes you physically sick. Sometimes it’s as if she’s going through the treatment herself; she suffers from a lot of the side effects he’s going through. She’s being as strong as she can be.”

“But not as strong as you...” I whisper. His hand is resting limply on his knee; I take it in my own and squeeze it as a way to encourage him to keep talking.

“I’m only strong because I don’t let myself think ahead to anything further than today,” he tells me. “All that matters is that today, he’s still here.”

That is possibly the most beautiful coping method I’ve ever heard of. If that is what keeps him functioning day after day, then I am in awe. But how does he not think to the future? Surely his brother can’t be all that old; judging by what Ellie told me, Gerard is the older brother. This disease could certainly cut his life short. If it were me, that would be all that I could think of; how much time does he have left? How long until I have to let him go?

“How old is Mikey?”

“Twenty,” he replies. I can’t mask my shock – that’s only a year older than me. He scans my face, then casts his eyes downwards. “That look there, that was how I reacted when he told me – complete and utter disbelief that someone so young could be going through this.”

Gerard pulls his hand away from me and stands up abruptly. The hot chocolate I’d made is long forgotten as he makes his way toward the archway. I get to my feet quickly to follow him. He enters the hallway and makes for the stairs.

“Gerard?”

“Thank you for tonight, Frank,” he says, not looking at me, but at least stopping momentarily, “but I can’t deal with any more of this right now.”

I nod, even though he can’t see it. “I understand.”

I watch him ascend the stairs. The tension in his body is obvious; he looks exhausted, physically and mentally. There is no way I could go through all this alone like it seems he’s doing.

“Gerard – wait,” I call quickly.

He pauses long enough for me to run up to where he’s standing. I don’t think, I just do; I wrap my arms around his torso and pull him into me. His body is tense in my arms at first, but then he seems to forget himself and relax. Soon his arms are around me, too, and much tighter than what mine are. This is the longest hug I’ve ever shared with a man, but surprisingly, I’m not repulsed by it. I think on some level it’s just what Gerard has been needing lately.

I feel his hands move further down my back, his grip loosening as they go. This is strange... He pulls back from me, but one hand stays resting on my hip. What am I meant to say after a hug like that? I don’t know, so I just smile up at him. Why is his hand not moving? He scans my face, pausing when his eyes reach my lips. What the fuck is happening...

His hand drops away. “Thank you.”

He turns away from me and continues up the stairs. I stay where I am, staring after him. My back and hip are tingling... I don’t know why, but I have a feeling things between Gerard and I have changed. I’m not sure whether for better or worse.



I’m nervous about having breakfast this morning. It took me a long time to get to sleep after that moment on the stairs, and I only got three hours sleep at best. Gerard and I don’t often run into each other during breakfast because he generally eats a good two hours before I drag myself out of bed, but I have this sinking feeling that this morning will be different.

I turn the corner into the kitchen and yep, there’s Gerard, standing behind the counter staring down into his coffee cup; there’s a barely touched omelette beside him. I make an attempt to escape, but he looks up, our eyes colliding. Well, I can’t leave now. I continue further into the kitchen and go about fixing myself something to eat. Cereal – simple, filling, and less time I’ll need to spend in the kitchen. Slumping down into the barstool farthest away from Gerard, I begin eating my breakfast quickly, but not too quickly for him to think that I’m trying to get away from him. I hear Gerard moving about, but I don’t look up from my bowl.

Suddenly there’s a cup of coffee being slid across the bench top toward me. I glance up; Gerard just shrugs.

“You look like shit,” he comments, leaning back against the benches behind him with his arms folded across his chest.

Well, thank you, cock-sucker. “Yeah, well so do you.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but I haven’t slept for twenty-four hours.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about Mikey?” I ask.

“Yeah... Mikey...” he replies. He sighs heavily. “God, my life is shit.”

I can’t help but look around the room we’re in; of all the rooms in this place, the kitchen would have to be the most lavish – probably because he had no control over what the cupboards were made of. I gesture around wildly, “This is your definition of shit? Do you want to see where I came from?”

“Okay, this part isn’t shit,” he concedes, “but the emotional part, that’s the epitome of shit.”

“I’d have to agree with you on that one,” I say.

We share a peaceful silence, where we’re both deep in thought yet aware that the other one is also deep in thought. Gerard is probably thinking about Mikey, but I’m thinking more about him than his brother. The guy is only twenty-three, and here he is taking on the emotional pain of potentially losing his brother, while having to be his sister-in-law’s crutch, as well. I know he doesn’t see it as a burden to him, but it is; by being there so thoroughly for her, he’s not allowing himself to really process everything he’s feeling. I’d like to tell him that I’m there for him, but I don’t think he’d accept my sympathy. All I want right now is to help him deal with his brother’s illness.

It’s funny how things change, isn’t it? When I got here, I would have never given a shit about how Gerard Way was feeling. He was an arrogant, self-obsessed cock of an artist – well, that’s what I thought. Or, maybe that’s what I wanted to think. I guess I never really gave him a chance to be anything else in my mind. He’s not really that bad, now that I understand what he’s going through, I mean. But I can’t help thinking that there’s more to him that he’s hiding. I’m not going to ask about it, though. Right now, his confession about his brother is all I really need to know about.

I look over to Gerard; he’s staring out the window still, but now he’s drinking his coffee methodically. I’m going to give him some time to himself; I’ll go to the office and get an early start on today’s work.

“Frank?” Gerard asks just as I get up from my stool; I guess he wasn’t as deep in thought as I assumed. “You think I’m strong because of how I’m dealing with this, don’t you?”

What a weird question. I answer, “Yeah. I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”

He turns to me, a sad look in his eyes. “Well, I’m not. I scream, I cry, I beg to a deity that I don’t believe to stop this all from happening... I’m scared, Frank. I just don’t let anyone see.”

His sad eyes bore into mine, but this time it’s not his way of intimidating me; he’s actually letting me in. And his eyes say exactly what his words did – I’m scared. That makes me take a few steps toward him. He looks me up and down when I’m standing a barely two inches away from him. His long, pale fingers are still gripping his coffee mug; I uncurl them from the handle and place it on the bench next to my own cup. He scans my face, trying to figure out what I’m doing. Actually, I’m not entirely sure myself, yet I hold my arms out open to him. He looks to my outstretched arms but remains still. I roll my eyes at him and enclose my arms around his torso. It takes him a second, but he hugs me back.

I stand up on my toes, because I’m not tall enough to reach his ear on my own, and whisper, “You are strong, Gerard, simply because you keep it together when everyone around you is falling apart.”

I feel his arms tighten around me at my words. That makes me smile. Hopefully, he’ll realise that I’m not just saying it; I truly believe that Gerard is strong. Perhaps even the strongest person I’ve ever met.

He pulls back from the hug and gives me a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Frank.”

We stare at each other for a moment... things feel different.

Gerard clears his throat and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. This shakes me out of whatever trance I was in.

“Uh... I’ll leave you to it,” I say and leave the kitchen as quickly as I can without making it look weird.

What the hell happened in there? Gerard is starting to have a weird affect on me, and I really don’t like it – not one fucking bit. The only time things feel weird is when we hug... That’s it – I will never again hug Gerard Way.

I head back upstairs and get ready for work. After Gerard’s confession last night, I’ve decided to keep up my recent dedication to my work. It’s not because I care about being a good P.A., but because I don’t want to stress Gerard out anymore than what he already is. So I’ll be on time every morning, I’ll work my ass off all day, and maybe even put in some over time. He’s going to be so happy that he’ll never want to let me go.

As I hit the staircase at 7:58am I see Gerard coming out the living room. As usual, he has a folded over art magazine in one hand and a fresh cup of coffee in the other. I pick up the pace and run down the stairs so I can meet him at the bottom.

“Ready for a busy day, boss?” I ask chirpily.

He shrugs his shoulder. “I suppose.”

He goes back to browsing his art magazine. I shift from foot to foot nervously, debating whether to say anything more about Mikey. Well, what have I got to lose?

“If you need to go to see Mikey at any time, or if you need to talk to someone, I’m here for you,” I say. And I mean every word.

“Thanks, Frank,” he says quietly. Finally, he looks up from his magazine. “You’re a good –”

Out of nowhere there is a beeping sound. Gerard tucks the magazine under his arm and reaches into his back pocket, extracting his phone. He presses a few buttons and the beeping stops.

“You were saying...” I probe excitedly. I’m sensing a compliment here.

He puts his phone back in his pocket. “It’s eight o’clock; that means you’re my employee again. Time for work; we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

Nothing else is said and he walks past me in the office. Oh, how I hate him.