Chapter Text
-Frank-
It's seven in the morning as I'm standing in this dingy bathroom trying to fix my curled edges of my black hair that flips at the nape of my neck. I sigh in annoyance as I throw my hairbrush into the sink. The clunk of the plastic echos heavily on the porcelain causing me to rub my aching temples before running a hand through my longish hair. I roll my hazel eyes as I bite my lip ring without realizing, metal hits enamel and clinks against the nerves of my teeth until I stalk out of the bathroom to look for something that's even semi decent to wear.
My name is Frank Iero, and I'm the guy you should call the best fucking friend out there. God, I really hate my generosity sometimes. I am a senior in college along with my best friend and roommate Bob Bryar, We have lived in this shit hole of an apartment since going into Belleville University almost four years ago.. Maybe you're wondering why I'm up at seven ranting and raving when I should be passed out and don't have class until four. Well, I would say ask Bob, but Bob's currently puking into a fucking bucket and can't move much right now, due to a wild night out with his friends for actually booking a meeting to speak with the Gerard Way of Art Couture, one of Jersey's top art museum owners in the city. The one I'm meeting instead of Bob,
I sigh frustratingly as I pull on a pair of black skinny jeans, and a white V-neck. I throw on some worn down chuck taylors that have seen the gates of hell and back, and I walk out to a groaning Bob on the couch whose greasy blonde hair is sticking to his forehead and sweating profusely from dehydration.
“Ugh, Frank, man, can you not step so loud? It's like big foots jumping on my brain.” he grounds out through gritted teeth before dry heaving once again in this bleach stained bucket next to the pullout bed.
“Maybe you shouldn't of drank the whole fucking bar, asshole. Maybe then you would be able to go see the person who you, yourself booked to meet, instead of throwing yourself at your sleeping roommate at five in the morning begging me to do it for you. You do realize this makes you look horrible in front of the man you're trying to get recommendations from right?” I threw out breezily as he clutched his head.
“Yes Frank, I understand, but you really need to shut the fuck up before my brain leaks through my eyes.” He certainly paints a lovely picture. I grunt and throw a bottle of aspirin his way, barely missing the bucket as I hear the capsules clatter loudly in the bottle that lays on the dirty rug in the living room. He moans again before shifting into the best sitting position he can before throwing a manila folder at the end of the bed along with a tape recorder.
“I have everything done, I'm not that irresponsible when it comes to interviews. Directions are in the folder, along with your questions. Tape everything he says, yeah?” I nod hesitantly at his requests. “Tell me everything when you get back man, I should be living.” he attempts to joke as I scowl again, before taking the car keys and slamming the door behind me. His groans of pain are amusing as I walk down the hall.
I am too good of a friend.
---
The turn signal of my black mustang seemed deafening as I made my way through the rounded corners of the circled driveway of this high end building as I followed the directions given. The sky scraper glass stood tall and caught my attention as I parked in a seemingly deserted lot on the corner. As I entered, I felt severely under-dressed watching women and men alike in business attire, leaving myself wishing I had brought a blazer or something with me to cover up my torso and make myself look more respectable. A pretty bottle blonde woman stood confident by the marble desk as she popped pink bubble gum against her white teeth.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything, today?” Her name-tag read Cadence and she had honey colored eyes that looked kind, until she looked at what I was wearing, her facade broke for a moment, until she smiled at me eerily.
“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact you can.” I smiled back weakly. “I-well, my roommate had a meeting with a Mr. Gerard Way, but he was unavailable to come today due to- an illness. So I am in his place.” Her manicured nails clicked against the key board of her desk top as she smiled at me sympathetically. She sighed softly before flicking her eyes back to mine.
“What was his name sir?”
“Robert Bryar. Ma'am.” her typing continued.
“Your name?”
“Frank Iero.” she nodded mutely before taking a sip of her coffee and directed me to a seat by the entrance.
“I will speak to Mr. Way about this, but, I will confess, if you are not the person who set the meeting up, he may not see you.” I nodded shifting to the leather seat, folding my hands in my lap, trying not to fidget in worry. I felt my skin grow hot as I realized I wasn't like these people. I had a strange urge to run to my car, go back home, and scream at Bob for putting me in a stunt like this. Yet my motions and thoughts were put to a halt as I saw a man approach me, his pale skin was contrasting against the dark onyx of his suit, his face was deep and angular, his lips lightly pink, as his eyes were a grassy golden hazel. His shoulder length black hair framed his face, he was perfect.
I suddenly found a new reason of why I'm nervous.
“Cadence?” he rasped, as the woman from earlier is by his side dutifully.
“Yes, Mr. Way.” his eyes never left mine.
“Take, Bob is it? -”
“Frank.” I cut in with an eye roll. He looks as if someone had slapped him in the face. Cadence grimaced as she pulled at her light hair as a distraction. He huffs slowly before clasping a hand rough on her shoulder.
“Please escort Frank” he says my name with an irritable sigh. “to my office immediately.” and now I am standing with a nervous little blonde who looks at me with wide eyes and slouching shoulders.
“Cadence.” he calls over his shoulder. She doesn't turn away from me. “cancel all of my other appointments. Please tell Lisa to bring me coffee as well.” His eyes flicker to mine as I swear I see him smirk. She leads me away, and I feel like an asshole.
---
The floors are colder as we go up to the twelfth level on the elevator and Cadence is fuming and almost foaming at the mouth.
“What the fuck is your problem, kid?” she snaps before dragging her manicured hands down her suit blazer.
“Oh, I did something? Sorry that your boss isn't that bright when it comes to names, I mean you must of handed him something saying my buddy wasn't going to be in.” My sarcasm is radiating, and it makes her want to scream.
“No. That was the fucking point. That’s how I got him to see you, idiot!” she grinds her teeth before turning to face me fully. “I can lose my job now because I lied to him. If I do, I thank the kindness of my heart. I know he's hard to book for a meeting so, your friend must be a persistent little annoyance like you.” Damn. I feel like a total dick now, I sigh before looking at her sadly.
“I'm sorry Cadence. If you lose your job it is my fault entirely.” the elevator dings to his floor as I see another blonde, but this time, she's natural, and she's eying me up with a coffee in her hand.
“Are you Frank?” her voice is light and almost grave like. I nod as she rests her hand on my back and pushes me with her.
“He's pissed you know? At Cadence, I mean. She lied to him, and to be honest, that isn't tolerated. Excuse the harshness but I don't know why he wants to see you. Consider yourself lucky.” she taps on the door labeled Gerard A. Way and she hears a muffled come in.
“Morning sir.” her voice is chipper and happy. Definitely a switch from just thirty seconds ago, He smiles at her back, a manipulating smile graces his lips.
“Good morning Lisa. Please escort yourself out.” he sounds demeaning as he dismisses her with a flick of his hand after she sets his coffee down before his eyes lock cold and wired on mine. She scoots past me and closes the door behind her. I don't move. It's a stare down and we're tied.
Take a seat. Frank.” I shuffle to his seat and rigidly sit down. I feel my hair falling over my eyes I forget to breathe. Something is different about this guy and I don't like the feeling in my stomach.
“I hate liars.” he says suddenly making my heart pound. “but, I hate punks even more.”
“I can leave, I'm not stupid.” I find myself saying to this money hungry prick. He chuckles darkly and sips his coffee.
“Did I say to leave, Mr. Iero?” he says my last name without hesitation and a draw while I see he has something in his hand.
“How did you know my last name?” he flicks the file over to me as I see it's got every piece of school information on there. What? I see my transcripts, my grades, my teachers comments, all from my years at university, along with the local colleges I was apart of. I'm a little freaked out to say the least. He smiles a little more, showing his teeth as I close it with force.
“Confused?” he mocks as he takes it back and I place my folder down.
“We're aren't here to talk about me, Mr. Way.” I spit his name like something vile. He doesn't flinch. “I'm here because my friend is sick at home, and he wouldn't miss meeting you for a second, although, I don't see why, you're a prick with too much power.” he is unaffected by my blunt wording.
“Owning a multimillion dollar company will do that to a man I suppose. You're friend I take it is an art major?”
“Art, and literature.” he nods as I take out the questions and tape recorder.
“Taping me? I can have you arrested.” he smirks.
“We're not talking drugs, sex, or any other illegal activities, sir.” I drawl out.
“I suppose.” he stares at me coolly before I gather the paper in my hands.
“Do you like blondes? That's my own question. Not on the sheet.”
“Who wouldn't want blonde women working for them?" It's a statement, a rhetorical question. "They throw themselves at me and do what I ask.”
“Jackass.” I mutter.
“Get on with it.”
“Who inspired you?” I start the tape recorder as his gaze softens and a light genuine smile catches my attention.
“My grandmother, she was beautiful. She taught me everything I know. Art, reading, writing, drawing. There was never anything I couldn't do when she was there. She got me started, but it's a shame she didn't get to see me finish. She was lovely, kind and gentle.” he looked saddened for a moment, before snapping back to reality.
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Do you want to dive into that further?”
“I am not married, Mr. Iero, I don't care to be, next question please.” I struck a nerve, I can tell.
“Are you living how you want?”
“I have money, power, luxury, a beautiful house and fancy car, you do the math.”
“When working by your own standards, can you improve them?”
“Always, Mr. Iero, there is no room for trial and error when running a business, I work my hardest to keep myself, and others employed in this shitty economy, everything is paid and on time, punctuality is something I do best.” Next question, I guess.
“Are you...” I stopped, his gaze is on me, and I can feel it. “are you-” the word doesn't come out and I don't want it too. My breathing quickens as I wish it were Bob here instead of me.
“Am I what, Mr. Iero?” his voice snaps me out of my nervousness.
“Are you gay?” I don't meet his eyes, yet I can see his hands stiffen.
“Is that for your benefit or is it on the paper?” his voice has a biting edge and I really want to stop. I move my finger to the recorder and slam the red button down.
“Paper, sir.” my voice betrays me, and he laughs. Emotionless. “I don't see how that could be a question someone would dare to ask.” I cover quickly
“You should of read the questions beforehand.”
“I didn't write it. Hell, I didn't even know it was on there. Even I know when shit gets to personal.”
“Enough, Frank.” he shushes me as he's studying the busy streets from the window pane and he clasps his hands behind his back. He says my name with no malice, he just says be quiet as he catches a picture with a bittersweet look and I'm sitting there awkwardly with a very rich man who can ruin my life with a snap of his fingers.
“I apologize for my friends idiotic behavior.” I feel guilty. Whether he gay is or isn't gay is neither my, or Bob's business.
“Are there other questions?” There is a lot more, but they aren't related in anyway to the topic of who he is and what he's doing.
“I'll leave, sir.” I get up hastily, trying to avoid him.
“Answer me.” his voice is harsh.
“Unrelated.” I say simply. He nods.
“Don't leave. I'm not done with you yet.” I stare in disbelief and sit back down, not looking at him. He stares at me before speaking.
“So, Frank, tell me about yourself.” that alone catches my attention. I stare at him wide eyed and realized something as I saw an old picture that he was looking at moments before, it looked to be old and faded as it sat in the wooden frame, It was my art teacher, Ms. Rush, her hands wound around a younger Gerard's shoulders. If I remember, her name was Elena. I froze as it clicked in my mind,. All the while as I stared at Gerard's slow predatory smirk.
Elena Rush was his late grandmother.