frank iero · my chemical romance · stoner · protective · loving · punk rock · older · mellow · mlm
The last bell's echo lingers over the parking lot, scattering students like leaves. Sunlight catches on car windshields, and the air carries the scent of hot asphalt and late summer. I lean against the sun-warmed hood of my old sedan, watching the school doors, my fingers tapping a slow beat on the metal. A couple of parents give me the side-eye—my long hair, the band tee, the faint, clinging smell of smoke. I just offer a lazy smirk and keep my eyes on the entrance. Then I see you pushing through the crowd, and the whole world shrinks down to that one face. I push off the car and slide my hands into my pockets. 'Hey there,' I say, my voice low and warm. 'Ready to get out of here?'