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Mistakes and Misunderstandings	By : FakeSmilesAt18 Category: My Chemical Romance > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1893 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do not own or make money from AFF. None of this holds any truth.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three: Seeing You Again

ONE YEAR LATER…

Gods-fucking-scalpers cost a damn fortune! Why hadn’t I bought tickets early, like online or something? Christian giggled madly at my side, and I had to suppress a shudder. He was relatively new to liking My Chem – he’d found the CD’s I’d hidden away – and when they announced their European tour…I couldn’t think of a good enough excuse not to go. He was so excited.

“Oh, God, Frankie!” Christian chirped, practically jumping up and down. “Gerard-fucking-Way!”

Yep, Christian was a fan of Gee’s. Was I masochistic or what? But…maybe that’s why I liked him. That and the fact that he didn’t associate me with MCR – he hadn’t been a fan for that long and hadn’t bothered to Google the band. He loved me for me…just for being Frank Anthony Iero Jr. from New Jersey.

But…I could never love him back. I knew that the first time he’d said it, after I had allowed him to “make love” to me for the first time. Even after twelve months away from Gerard – and five of them in a steady relationship – I couldn’t stop feeling the way I did.

“Calm down, babe, or you’ll pass out,” I said and wrapped an arm around his waist. Christian giggled and chattered on, but I barely listened. We were fast approaching the security detail – Chris had said he wanted to be on the floor the entire time – and I almost pissed myself when I recognized the two on duty.

From the way their eyes bugged from their heads, I’d say they remembered me too. “M-Mr. Iero?”

“Hi, fellas,” I said casually – even if my heart slammed against my ribcage. They allowed me and my boyfriend inside, all smiles and pats on the back, and I could feel Chris’s eyes on me. I merely shrugged and moved towards the stage.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw Bob sit behind his drums. The crowd around us went completely ape-shit. Christian flipped when he saw Mikey and Ray come on next. Personally, my heart stopped when I saw their back-up guy come on to play guitar.

And then, there he was; Gerard-fucking-Way.

“We’re My Chemical Romance,” he growled into the mike, “and this is ‘Helena’!” My heart broke as they sang the song dedicated to their grandmother even as my hands ached to play. I watched the stand-in – as far as I was aware, they hadn’t made him a permanent member – and nearly rushed the stage when I saw it…he had MY guitar in his arms. They were letting him play with my baby. I never got the chance – or the cash – to send it overseas. I hadn’t even played since I’d left the band.

As we fought our way closer and closer to the stage, the kids in the mosh began to clear the way for us…for me. Chris was smiling but I could see how confused he was. I could feel it when Gerard finally saw me; heat prickled my skin right down to my toes. He had been singing ‘Thank You for the Venom’ and just stopped in the middle of the song. “F-Frank Iero…” he whispered into the mike; I turned and tried to fight my way out of the pit. “FRANKIE!” I stopped and turned towards the pleading shout. “W-where you going, man?” he asked. “Get up here!” The crowd seemed to cheer me on, but I couldn’t breathe…seeing them again was a mistake.

I did thing only thing I could – I ran for it.

* * * * * *

I ran from the arena with Christian bolting after me. “What the bloody fuck was that, Frank?” he yelled as I struggled to get the keys from my pocket.

“Not now,” I muttered and climbed into the driver’s seat. Usually, Chris drove because my “American driving” made him nervous, but I needed to get gone. Fast.

“Yes, now,” he retorted and grabbed the keys from the ignition. I glared at him, but he didn’t back down.

Sighing, I admitted, “I…I used to be their r-rhythm guitarist.” Thinking back, I couldn’t help but smile; I could allow myself to think about rehearsals…and touring and shows. I refused to think about that last day, or my fling with the younger Way brother.

I felt strong arms around me and a hand stroking my hair. “Shh…it’s okay, love,” Chris cooed in my ear. “Everything will be all right.” Had I been crying? I must have…I could feel how wet my boyfriend’s tee shirt had become. I allowed him to rock me, soothe me, and although I was grateful for the warmth of his body, I silently dreamed it was someone else…

I shoved the handsome Brit away from me. “I can’t do this…not again…” I stared into Christian’s crystalline eyes. “W-we can’t go on like this. I-I don’t love you.”

To my surprise, he laughed. “I know, Frank, but I don’t care.” He pulled me into his embrace once more. “I’ll love enough for the both of us.”

I knew I should leave…to tell him that it wasn’t possible…but against my better sense, I relaxed into his arms. “Are you sure?” I murmured quietly.

“Of course. All I need is for you to be faithful. You’ll love me eventually. It’s only been six months, Frankie.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, dumbfounded.

“Now,” he said, and I felt him kiss the top of my head, “explain what happened in there.”

And so, for the rest of the concert – and with several pauses and hesitations – I told Chris about My Chemical Romance.

YET ANOTHER YEAR LATER…

I didn’t see my ex-bandmates after that night, though Christian thought I should…Christian. Looking down at the lump of covers at my side, I had to smile. Where would I be without him? He asked for fidelity, and I had given it to him. The platinum band on my ring finger reminded me every day.

We had vowed to love and cherish each other forever…but even after two years, I had pictured Gerard as the man in front of me…Gee’s finger I had slid the matching band onto…I shook my head. Chris was a good man, kind and tender – I loved him as best I could, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. He accepted that and loved me twice as much for it. My little trooper.

“Frankie?” My husband looked up at me with sleep-glazed eyes.

“Yes, hon?” He settled against my side with his head rested on my hip.

“I love you.”

I put down my book – damn insomnia! – and stroked his back. “I know,” I replied softly. “It’s time to get up,” I added after peering at the clock. It was four a.m. As usual, I was just getting tired as Christian headed out for work. In a fucked up way, the schedule conflicts helped our marriage to thrive.

“Don’t want too!” he whined; I had to chuckle.

“Have to,” I retorted and began to tickle him gently. Just enough to make him open his eyes; he glared at me without much anger behind it. I smirked and wriggled under the comforter. “Come on, dear…I could make it worth your while.” He smiled as I leaned for a kiss which led to more kissing and caressing and panting.

I ended up on my hands and knees, and my husband was slowly working his way inside me. Moaning, I closed my eyes as he gave that final push. I was so full, and…and…ooooh, he was doing it exactly how I liked. Chris hit my sweet spot dead-on, and I moaned again. He moved his hips faster, and I could hear his breathing change. He was going to…yep, he came.

As his hips slowed, I heard him mutter, “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” He slipped from my body, and I turned, expecting him to help finish me off.

“I have to go, babe. I’m going to be late for work.” He smiled apologetically at me and disappeared into the bathroom – leaving me with a raging hard-on. Fucker.

Taking myself in hand, I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured…who else? I imagined Gerard’s sparkling, indescribable eyes…his plush lips…his artist hands…I was on the edge of orgasm after a few, short minutes. “Ooh…uh…Geeee!” I groaned as I finished. Reaching for a discarded towel near the bed, I cleaned the cum from my hand and torso; then, I curled into the covers, my eyes heavy. It was always easier to sleep after a decent orgasm. As I drifted off, I vaguely heard a door slam and the revving of an engine – must have been Chris…

Four o’clock rolled around, and Christian didn’t come home; I wasn’t worried. He had the habit of stopping at his favorite pub on Monday night. Normally, he’d stumble home, tipsy, around seven…but at seven, no Christian. I began to get a little upset. By eleven, I was so worried, I nearly called Scotland Yard.

Phone in hand, I had only pushed the first number when he came through the door, sober to boot. My anger came flooding back. “Where have you been!? You could’ve called!” I only winced a little at my “worried spouse” routine – I sounded like such a woman.

“Like you care,” I spat back.

“What the FUCK, Christian?” I exploded. “Of course I care!”

He laughed bitterly. “No, Frank, you don’t. You say you do, you even act like you do, but you DON’T!”

“What are you on about? Where have you been!?”

“Honestly? Do you really want to know?” His voice was razor sharp.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I was with a good friend of mine from work,” he said coldly, “we rented a room.”

I heard him, but it took me a good minute to understand what he had meant. When it sank in, I expected it to hurt, but…I just felt numbed. “Why?” For a nanosecond, I was two years in the past, and Gee was asking me the exact same thing. Then I was back in London, staring down my husband.

“I asked you for one thing, Frank, and you couldn’t give it to me – I found someone who could.”

“I have never been unfaithful,” I said quietly, “not once this entire time.”

My softness and lack of anger seemed to enrage the Brit. “Physically, you never strayed, Frank, but emotionally you weren’t ever here! I think you should leave.”

I didn’t argue with him – I simply stood and began packing my clothes. It only took a few minutes; I never kept more than what I could carry in two suitcases. Paranoid…who me? When I went back to the living room, I found Chris in tears. Gods…I was so sick of fucking tears.

“You knew I didn’t love you, Christian,” I said calmly, rationally. He still jumped like I’d hit him. “You said that you loved enough for both of us, and I stayed.” I slipped off my wedding band and dropped it by his feet. “Rot in hell, mate.”

* * * * * *

R and R!!!
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Mistakes and Misunderstandings