Frerard One-Shots

The band My Chemical Romance one-shots compilation of the ship Frerard. Variation through the series.


4. Tragic with a Capitol T

        It never occurred to me how selfish I was until it was too late. I always thought I was a good person but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m selfish and I’m a coward and I hurt my best friend. I didn’t realize he was gone until it was too late though and if I could go back and time to undo everything, I would take it in a heartbeat. Hell, I would give up my own life if it meant I could undo my wrongs. But I can’t undo that past, what’s done is done and I’m forced to live with my memories haunting me. 
        When did it all go wrong? I remember that day all too well… 

        Frank looks up at me crying. “Gee?” he whimpers, his bottom lip trembling as his sleeve wipes over his eyes absorbing the tears streaming down his cheeks. His breathing is shaky and he stands so small looking up at me so sad. “Gee?” he calls out again. I did this to him…
        “I’m sorry,” I say. As the words leave my mouth, all the tension leaves his face. Tears still drip down his face but there is no emotion. He’s just neutral until I see flickers of anger spark in his eyes. “Frank?”
        “Bastard,” he mutters through his teeth. I don’t say anything because I deserve this. “How long has it been? What, 6-7 years? All that time when hanging out with friends, the flirting and the pet names and the ‘cutesy-stuff’ was what to you then?”
        “We were just screwing around, Frank,” I explain. “You’re my friend.”
        “NO!” he screams out and throws his hands in the air. “Don’t you fucking dare go there, Way. We are not friends because THIS is not how you treat your friends! Maybe some friends kiss each other on the cheek and sure, some friends play spin the bottle but friends don’t kiss each other when it’s just the two of them. Friends sleep together when they spend the night but friends don’t pursue physical desires during the night. Don’t you call me your friend because you don’t treat your friends this way.”
        “Frank, listen to yourself. It was meaningless. We both talked about this all those years ago, we were joking!”
        “I knew when we were joking because we were always be very clear. But when we stopped making it clear, that’s when we were serious.”
        “Don’t drag me in this. I was always joking this whole time, you were the one who wanted to be serious.”
        Frank’s almost pulling his hair out as he tries to refrain from screaming and crying out. “I love you, Gerard. Don’t you fucking tell me you don’t feel the same way because I know you love me.”
        “No,” I say firmly. My face starts burning. 
        “Yes, you do!” he shoots back stepping closer to me.
        “No, I don’t! I don’t love you, you’re my friend and that’s all!” I argue back. I’m shaking at this point. 
        “Stop lying to me!” he shouts. He buries his face in his hands and I stare at him. Frank Iero has been my best friend since I could remember and we grew up along with our other friends, we’d always be joking and screwing around and that’s when the running joke of me and Frank would be a good couple started. First, it was just us flirting for laughs and we always clarified we were joking but after so long, it was implied we were joking; it didn’t need to be said anymore. But as we grew older, the joke would get more intense and that’s when we started the holding hands and the play kissing. I thought it was funny doing it in public because of people’s reactions and Frank thought so too. And sure, because we always gave each other pet names, we continued along in text. And yeah, maybe on nights when it was just us two, there was no need to cause laughter but Frank and I would still kiss, it was just a habit of ours and yes, I lost count how many times our make out sessions escalated to let off steam, which resulted with us come morning frantically putting back on our clothes from the floor. That’s why a lot of times we ended up wearing each other’s clothes. But that was just our friendship, as weird and absurd as it was. That’s how we interacted, but we both knew it was meaningless, at least I thought we both did.
        “I’m not lying to you, I don’t like you like that. You’re my best friend and that’s all you ever will be, okay Frank? I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same way. I don’t like...boys.”
        “That’s a lie, Way,” he says. “That’s the fattest lie and you know it. You HATE it when girls flirt with you. I see you get all red and uncomfortable. I remember that one time we went to a bar and that one chick kept hitting on you. I saw the color drain from your face and you practically fell out of your seat when she put a hand on your leg. You don’t like girls whatsoever.”
        “Frank, I’m not gay,” I say very clearly. “I’m straight and so are you. You’re just letting this get to your head,” I say. 
        “Just say it, please,” he begs me. 
        “NO!” I say.
        “You’re a coward, aren’t you? You can’t say it because you don’t want people to ‘hate you,’ huh? Is that it? You’re afraid to love me!” 
        “I don’t love you,” I flat out spit at him and he freezes. “There’s no such thing as love, it’s just a camouflage to fake happiness. But you claim to love me? If that’s true, then let me go and run away before I know how you truly feel.”
        “Your heart is too dark to care,” Frank whispers. “You refuse to love me because of what other people think?” 
        Frank opens his mouth to argue but I cut him off. “Save your breath. I don’t want to hear it. I already made myself very clear.”
        “Couldn’t hate enough to love?” Frank croaks. I wipe his eyes out of habit and turns his back to me then grabbing his leather jacket off the hook and throwing it on. “I only wish you weren’t my friend so I could hurt you in the end.”
        “Where are you going?” I ask him. 
“You don’t fucking need me anymore. I can’t be with you knowing you won’t let it be real because you care what other people think. Break yourself against my stones and spit your pity in my soul. You never needed any help. You sold me out to save yourself from social ridicule.I won't listen to your shame because you ran away from our love.” I don’t say anything as he walks over to the door. “If you still care, don’t ever let me know.” Frank turns around and slams the door shut. His little footsteps go down the steps and I know he’s gone. 
        I throw myself on the couch and bury my face in the cushions while I scream. My throat burns and I start thrashing my arms around angry. I hate him. I hate him for leaving me over some stupid reason. He dare accuse me of loving him? I made myself very clear since the beginning it was a stupid joke that he just took seriously. I can't believe him. He left me just like that?
        I roll off the couch and tumble on the floor slightly hyperventilating from my outburst. I hate him. But that's the thing about Frank, I could never hate him and it's NOT because I love him but because he is my best friend and you don't hate your friends. 
        Whatever, this wouldn't be the first time we've gotten in a fight. Years ago, Frank was just being himself, running out crazy and careless until the idiot fell down off a chair and smashed his head into the counter. He was a crying fit while I was icing his head and refused to have me take him to the hospital. Frank insisted he was fine until he a few hours later passed out and wouldn't wake up. There was a fight about his carelessness, specifically because I was angry he didn't care about his well-being. We got into plenty of other fights as well, like… like… I know there’s been a lot, this is nothing completely new. What’s new is the left. Frank never leaves me until we stop fighting. I can’t for the life of me recall any other disagreement Frank and I had, though. There was nothing really wrong. Maybe this is new. We never really fought before, it was always a small argument that we never took personally. Maybe this is new entirely. Frank and I actually fought and he left because of it. Whether he’s coming back or not, it’s unsure but then I remember it’s Frank. He’ll calm down in time and he’ll forget about whatever he’s mad about. And things will go back to the way they have been between us as always. 
        I couldn’t have been more wrong to think so.

        “Frank, please!” I say banging on his door. I know he’s home, he’s always home on Thursdays. “I need to talk to you, open the door and let me in.” It’s been a week since I’ve talked to him. He hasn’t made any effort to contact me so after two days, I decided it was only right of me to reach out first. My texts went unanswered so eventually, I called him It rang and rang but went to voicemail. Now it doesn’t even ring when I call him. I’ve tried talking to him to apologize but he’s ignoring me and it’s slowly turning me insane. I don’t know what to do with myself without him and I feel terrible to have made him upset with me. After everything, we’ve been through, hell and back, what breaks him is not him leaving to attend Catholic school, his parent's divorce, and getting bullied in school.

        When Frank was 10, his mother insisted they make Frank leave public school and go to private school. He was devastated and begged to stay with me. We had the same class together and rode the bus together since we lived on the same street. But his mother insisted and Frank was gone. We still worked out to be friends and see each other. Frank got depressed though at his new school. His mother believed this was for the greater good but his dad had a problem. That’s when they started arguing. 

        Frank’s parents had a rough divorce when he was 14. He was their only kid so there were countless battles of his parents demanding they get full custody. Then they thought it wise to make Frank choose between them and he couldn’t do that. I remember that night he rang knocked on the door at 2 am. My parents were asleep and so was my brother. My however was lurking in the dark of my room on my phone when I heard him knocking. I opened it to find Frank soaking wet and softly crying. 
        “Frank? Oh my god, what’s happened?” I ask and pull him in. As soon as he enters the threshold of my house, he throws his arms around me sobbing. I hold him close to me while closing the door. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” I tell him. I take off his dripping jacket and sopping shoes then take him by the hand upstairs to my room. “Here, you can wear some of my old jeans, the only pair that fits you.” I rummaged through my closet and find the pair as well as grab a Misfits shirt and a long sleeve for him to wear. Frank always found comfort in wearing multiple long sleeves, it was a security factor. I sit on the bed while he changes out of his wet clothes. When he’s done, he curls up on my lap and softly sniffles still. “If you want to talk, I’m here to listen but it you don’t want to talk, I’m still here for you.” 
        Frank nods. “My parents, they were just fighting and yelling. I hate it so much. They asked me to pick between them when they got their separate places. I couldn't and it just got worse. I love them both so much, I don’t want to pick. If I pick my mom, she’s going to make me move far away and I’ll never see my dad again, or you and the others. But if I stay with my dad, I can go back to school with you guys and it’ll be great. Except I’ll never see my mom again and she’ll be alone.” Frank’s father never cheated but they are now legally no longer married, they just haven’t sorted out the arrangements for their son. His dad’s been seeing another woman who has two kids for a few months but his mom doesn’t have anyone. I just listen to him and comfort him to the best I can. He fell asleep in my arms and I couldn’t find the strength to leave his side so I just stayed put holding him in my arms while we slept. 
        The judge declared his mother financially unable to provide care for a child so his dad kept him. Frank felt terrible to leave his mom alone but that’s they way it turned out. He came back to us when we started high school but his depression didn’t fade away. And it only got worse when he was bullied. 
        Frank was the guy always shoved into lockers, getting booked downed the stairs, and bombarded with food in the cafeteria. It was only getting worse and I tried to help him. My senior year, that was the first time I was ridiculed for sticking up for “my boyfriend”. The running joke with Frank and I started when I was 16 but hearing assholes who hurt my friend rub it in my face like that stung badly. I hated it and I never wanted it again. 
        We graduated and still kept in touch and still kept the joke alive. Even though those people were gone, I still feared I would be hated for “dating a guy”. I tried not to let it bother me but this memory is what kept alive my fear of loving him. I look back at it and realize how stupid I was for hurting him. 
        You can’t fake love with someone. Maybe you have a relationship, a brief one where the first few weeks were magical and then suddenly they weren’t anymore. It’s not that it was fake the whole time. The feelings at first was real but it faded away. You can’t fake those emotions. It’s near to impossible to be in a relationship with someone you have no desire to be around. 
        Every time I saw Frank, the biggest smile would spread on my face and it was genuine. THe picture of the two of us, more often than not, at least one of us isn’t looking at the camera but at each other. I love holding him and I hate seeing him cry. And I miss kissing him and being with him. I don’t know what I’m to do without him. Right now, he needs to know how I feel because I want this to be real, I’m not afraid anymore. 

        I knock on the door again but there’s no answer. “Please, I’m so sorry. I need to talk to you,” I say. “You were right all along and I’m sorry.”
        Someone comes up behind me. “Excuse me, sir?” 
        I turn around and see a police officer behind me. “Uh, hi, can I help you?” I ask nervously.
        “May I ask what you’re doing?”
        “Oh, my friend, we-we got into a fight a while ago and I’ve come to apologize. I tried calling but he won’t answer me.”
        He nods. “When was the last night you spoke?” he asked. “A week ago in the late afternoon?”
        My eyes widen at him. “Um, how did you know?” I ask now much more concerned. How we he know this unless…
        He takes off his hat and looks at me. “I’m sorry, son. Your friend is dead.”
        “What?” I sputter. 
        “He was hit by a car, ran across the street and was hit head on.”
        “No,” I spit out. “That’s not possible. No, I just talked to him last week.”
        “Frank Iero? 22, shorter, dark hair, leather jacket?” I lean back against the door. “M.E. said he was killed instantaneously. Witness said he looked rather distressed, crying and running around lost. When they ran across, didn’t even realize there was a car.” 
        He was killed because he ran out of my house crying. He didn’t think to pay attention because he had too much on his mind. Crying because of me and running away because of me. If I wasn’t selfish, if I had just accepted that I loved him, he never would have left me house and he would still be here. This is my fault and I can’t undo it no matter how badly I wish I could. 

        Frank’s funeral didn’t seem real. It was closed casket and I just so badly wanted to rip open the door and see it be empty and Frank come out laughing like it was the greatest prank. Or maybe not a prank but when I see his body is not there, he’ll come up to me and prove that I do love him. I wouldn’t care if he ridiculed me if it meant I could have him back. But as much as I wished to believe the casket was empty, Frank never came around. His mother and father for the first time in years weren’t fighting. They didn’t care about anything, they both lost their son. Friends I haven’t seen in years came but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to any of them. I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I wanted to wake up with Frank next to me alive and safe. But this is not a dream, this is real and this is my life. 

        During the week I thought Frank was ignoring me, I wrote him a song. He always encouraged me to write music since I was so passionate about it. My problem was I never found something passionate enough to write about. I wrote my first song and it was about Frank. I wrote about the lies I told him about not loving him and how it doesn’t matter what other people think because they could never love someone the way we did and our hearts aren’t afraid to love. I wrote this song to express the words I couldn’t bring myself to say when we fought that day. I write how I’m empty when he left and all I need him is to know I still care and love him so much. I think about him all the time, night and day. And the reason I was a coward was because I was afraid to be hated so I was afraid to love. This world is ugly but I don’t care anymore. Frank is beautiful to me and that's never going to chance. I don’t know if he’s still thinking about me while I’m still thinking about him. I wrote him this song and I wanted him to hear it so badly. I wanted him to know everything I felt and how wrong I was. He’s gone because of me and he will never know. He’ll never know I loved him and the last thing we ever did was fight. 

        I sit alone in the back crying a mess and I start singing the song I wrote. “These are the eyes and the lies of the taken. These are their hearts but their hearts don’t beat like ours. They burn ‘cause they are all afraid for every one of us, there’s an army of them but you’ll never fight alone. These are the nights and the lights that we fade in. These are the words but the words aren’t coming out. They burn ‘cause they are hard to say for every failing sun, there’s a morning after. Though I’m empty when you go, I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you every night, every day. These are the lies and the lives of the taken. These are their hearts but their hearts don’t beat like ours. They burn ‘cause they are all afraid when mine beats twice as hard. ‘Cause the world is ugly but you’re beautiful to me. Are you thinking of me like I’m thinking of you? I would say I’m sorry, though I really need to go. I just wanted you to know that the world is ugly but you’re beautiful to me. Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of me?” I break down and just keep asking the question. “Are you thinking of me?” Of course, I don’t ever get an answer. 
        I wish Frank would just come over to me and finish the song. I wish he would sit down next to me, play his warm smile and look at me saying the last lines I myself can’t find the strength to finish: “Stop your crying, helpless feeling, dry your eyes and start believing. There’s one thing they’ll never take from you.” He would smile and promise me our love would never be taken away.  Even if that did happen, he’d be right. It wouldn’t be taken away by someone because I threw it away carelessly. I can only be stuck asking my question on loop. “Are you thinking of me, Frank?” Of course, I’m never getting his answer. 
        The last words he never said to me. “If you still care, don’t ever let me know.” He will never know I still care and I will never know if he’s thinking about me.


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