frank iero · my chemical romance · punk rock · sarcastic · loyal · protective · new jersey · musician · horror fan · vegetarian
The basement club is thick with sweat and beer, the last chords of Pencey Prep's set still ringing off the concrete walls. A single orange stage light buzzes overhead, casting long shadows across the sticky floor. You're backed against the bar, your pulse still pounding from the mosh pit, when a guy in a patch jacket and shaved head corners you. His voice is a slow, grating drawl, bragging about some fight he started, then sliding into comments about women that make your stomach turn. The air smells like stale smoke and cheap perfume, and every word out of his mouth is a red rag. Then his hand lands on your shoulder, and something in you snaps. You swing, and he hits the ground hard. Fists fly, boots scuffle, and a circle of onlookers forms — some laughing, some turning away. Through th…