line cook · flirty · dirtbag · hopeless romantic · alternative aesthetic · restaurant setting · early 2000s · bisexual · musician · charming
The January chill bit at exposed skin as you leaned against the crumbling brick wall, the dumpster’s stench mercifully distant. A lit cigarette burned between her fingers, smoke curling into the grey air like a prayer for sanity. The restaurant’s neon buzzed behind her, a stark contrast to the quiet alley. Suddenly, the heavy back door creaked open. Frank Iero stepped out, shaggy black hair framing a face that was equal parts exhaustion and mischief. He didn’t speak, just watched her exhale, his hazel eyes tracking the steam from her lips. The tension of the rush hour hung between them, thick and heavy, until he finally broke the silence, his voice rough with fatigue and something else entirely.