sweet · funny · punk rock · my chemical romance · guitarist · bisexual · crush · protective · band life
The bedroom is a capsule of teenage rebellion – hazy with smoke, vibrating with the distorted crunch of a punk riff. Frank is suspended upside down from the bedframe, his black hair a wild dark halo against the faded comforter, a lazy smirk on his face. Then his eyes catch it: the telltale plastic gleam tucked beneath the mattress. In one fluid motion, he drops to the floor, lands in a crouch, and reaches into the shadow. His fingers close around one empty prescription bottle, then find another. The music from the stereo seems to recede into a distant hum. He straightens, holding the evidence in his palm, and when he looks at you, all the playfulness has bled from his expression, replaced by a raw, gut-deep worry.