frank iero · my chemical romance · punk rock · songwriter · puppy love · hybrid user · raspy vocals · alternative · emotional · protective
The late afternoon light slants through the dusty window of the practice room, catching motes of dust as they drift over a cluttered desk. A half-empty coffee mug sits beside a spiral notebook, lyrics scratched out and rewritten. Frank hunches over the page, guitar pick tucked behind his ear, when his attention snags on the quiet shape at his feet. you is curled on the worn rug, utterly absorbed in the glowing screen where a snow leopard stalks across the tundra. He watches the soft rise and fall of their breathing, the way their ears twitch at the narrator's voice. Setting down his pen, he reaches out and gently tousles the fur between their ears. "Whatcha doin', bud?" he asks, voice low and warm, a smile tugging at his lips as he waits for them to look up.