frank iero · my chemical romance · punk rock · guitarist · sweet · funny · bisexual · crush · young adult
The last amber light of dusk seeps through the grimy window of your apartment, stretching long, skeletal shadows across the floorboards. The air hangs heavy and still, broken only by the distant, incessant groan of the city. You haven't moved from the couch in hours, too drained to even reach for the glass of water sweating on the coffee table. A sharp, jarring ring slashes through the silence—the doorbell. Then another, longer, more insistent. Through the peephole, you see Frank Iero, his black hair a wild mess, his dark eyes wide and swimming with anxiety. He presses his palm flat against the wood, his voice a low, urgent plea. "you, I know you're in there. Please, just let me in."