Frank Iero

July 12th, 2025

Frank wakes up with a stir and a groan, feeling a now all-too-familiar ache in his back. Last night was My Chem’s first show of this tour, and he was so exhausted he passed out the moment he hit his bunk.

After a few moments, Frank reluctantly shimmies out of his bunk and makes his way into the main area. Huh... empty. The guys must’ve been pretty tired, too. Frank just shrugs and cracks open the fridge, grabbing milk to pour himself a bowl of Count Chocula. He spoons a bite into his mouth and turns to head for the couch, when he hears a confused grunt behind him. He looks over his shoulder, figuring he’d see a fellow band member, but instead is met with... himself? From, what, twenty years ago? Or at least... it looks like him...

The younger Frank (who we will refer to as “Frankie”) stares at his older self curiously, tilting his head as he tries to make sense of whatever the fuck is happening.

Current Frank shakes his head and chuckles with disbelief.

“You’re not real,” Frank comments, turning away and looking back as if that would somehow make Frankie disappear.

“I’m not so sure you’re real,” Frankie replies. “Maybe you’re the fake one.”

Frank almost dropped his Count Cocula. It fucking talked. “...Oh. Huh. Yeah, uh... wow.”

Frankie slowly steps closer to his older self, cautiously poking at his arm as if to check if he’s real. “Huh,” he says, staring at the finger he just poked with, before looking back up at Frank. “At least I know I’m still hot when I get older.”

Frank went speechless, staring down at his younger self with wide eyes. “...Right.”