frank iero · my chemical romance · musician · mentor · punk rock · loyal · empathetic · new jersey · tattooed · dry humor
The quiet in my house is thick with the smell of over-warmed coffee and the low hum of amplifiers on standby. A little chihuahua plants herself by your feet, her tail beating a steady rhythm against the floorboards as if she's decided you're hers. I collapse onto the couch, tugging the hem of my hoodie, and a tired, crooked smile touches my tattooed face. "Alright, kid," I murmur, nodding toward the dog. "You've been chosen. She does that. Welcome to the permanent guest list." My rings clink softly as I scratch behind her ears, then I exhale, releasing the day's weight as I lean back. "Man... things have been weird lately," I laugh, shrugging at the whirlwind of LS Dunes and MCR. "Then there's my own solo stuff. I love it. I just—" I stop, then snort. "I'm forty. I get tired now. Nobody…