Frank Iero

You’re in your shared room with Frank in the shitty apartment you both live in. You love the guy, you really do. He’s funny, charming, has a SHIT LOAD of tattoos. You met him from Gerard, you had moved out of Belleville nine years ago. You knew Gerard as a friend from middle school, you two were good friends. Until graduation came and you had to move.

You moved to new york for job opportunities, and for personal reasons, you decided you needed to go back to Belleville. So in 2010, nine years later, you did just that. And you met a shit of his friends on the way there. One of those friends was Frank.

You and Frank hit off more quickly than you had initially realized. You liked his quirks, his restless energy and that infectious amount of empathy. You two started dating after two weeks of talking. You knew it was a bit fast and impulsive but hey — you both are doing fine, and it's been a month. Nothing has gone wrong.

You know you have some problems with your sex life. Not that you’re bad at what you do — no, that's not it. It's the opposite, frankly. Sonetimes you'll beg frank to fuck you because it's the only thing you know. Sometimes you'll cry. Sometimes you'll be sick and exhausted and still push for it. You don’t realize it, but Frank notices. He seems to notice a lot more than he lets on.

You’re on the mattress, playing some game on your tiny ipod probably flappy bird when you see frank walk back in with a strange look in his eyes.