"Alright, Frankie, talk to me," Linda said as she led her son into the house and had him sit down on the couch. He sat and she sat down right next to him.

"I-I don't know what to say," Frank spoke, obviously trying to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Did it go horribly at Jamia's?" she asked, and Frank burst into tears again. He buried his head in his arms and tried to stop crying like a fucking baby. He couldn't stop. Linda rubbed her son's back comfortingly. "Hmm," she said. "That bad?"

"Y-you have no idea," Frank bawled.

"Shhh, tell me what happened," her voice was soft and kind.

"Her dad... he hates me. All because of the kiss..." Frank stuttered out.

"What kiss?" Linda asked her son.

"Gerard and I... at the youth event..." Frank sobbed, sick of keeping the secret. "I-I don't know why we did it... but everybody saw us..."

"Ah," Linda sighed. "I see,"

"Jamia was really..."

"Put off?"

Frank nodded.

"Well, it's not like I didn't see her kiss you a bit passionately before," Linda said.

"But it's not even like that with Gerard," Frank wiped his eyes on his sleeves. "...we're not gay... everyone thinks we are..."

"Who cares what they think?" she asked.

"Jamia doesn't like me anymore..." Frank said. "I think I really hurt her, Mom...!"

"Time will tell, honey," Linda soothed. "She'll see how crazy she is about you,"

"That sounds like bull shit," Frank cried.

His mom chuckled. "You're right. What else is going on with you?" she asked.

"I got detention..." Frank said.

"Not the first time," Linda sighed. "Not the last,"

"But I didn't even do anything this time!" he protested.

"What happened?" Linda asked. Frank shut his mouth. He wasn't ready to admit how bad it was really getting at school. When a group of kids had beat Frank and Gerard up in seventh grade she'd marched down to the school and gotten in an argument with the principal. Frank didn't want Mommy coming to the rescue, he was sixteen years old for Pete's sake! Who the hell is Pete?

"We got in an argument," Frank said. "He was calling me gay and stuff,"

"It doesn't matter what other people think, Frank," Linda said. "Are you gay, baby?"

"No!" Frank spat in disbelief.

Linda smiled warmly. "Then that's all that matters. Even if you were gay, fuck those people,"

"Okay,"

"What about the car?" Frank's mother asked.

"I-I don't even know..." Frank sighed, leaning back. "I g-guess everything that's been going on... it just added up... I g-got in an argument with Jamia's dad... all the crap at school... and then I got home and heard Dad talking..."

"You heard him?"

"Yeah,"

"He's full of hot air," Linda sneered. Frank laughed through his tears. "I want to show you something," she got up from the couch and walked across the small room to a book shelf. She pulled off an old, dusty photo album and blew the dust away.

"Mom, I don't want to look at pictures of you from the eighties," Frank groaned, throwing himself over on the couch.

"This is not a trip down memory lane," she said, swatting her son.

"Ow!"

"Sit up, I want to show you something,"

Frank sat up and leaned his head on his mother's shoulder, looking at the dull pages of the photo album in front of him. She turned a few pages past pictures from birthdays and family gatherings to a page with a bunch of news paper clippings.

"You remember when your father used to take you to clubs?" Linda asked. "When you were really little?"

"Yeah, I remember," Frank sighed.

"He was mild back then," she chuckled. She pulled out a certain photograph that was in color. It showed Frank Iero Senior up on stage with a drum set. His hair was spiked straight up and dyed bleach blonde with red at the tips. He wore a skin tight leather vest and was holding pink drumsticks high in the air. Stage makeup decorated his face and his ears were filled with multiple earings.

Frank gasped, holding in laughter. "Oh my God," he giggled. "This was DAD!?"

"This is the man I fell in love with," Linda sighed, staring at the photograph that was now in her son's hand.

"What's happened to him?"

"He's trying to grow up,"

"Why?" Frank gawked.

"Some people do, Frank. But he's seemed to forget who he used to be,"

"That really sucks,"

"There's a difference between growing up and being responsible," Linda said. Frank looked at her. "He used to be wild, very wild. He loved to stay out all night partying and sometimes we'd wake up in random people's basements after parties in other people's clothes. That stuff can happen. But the day you were born, Frank, it changed his life.

"He suddenly had someone to look after, and he had a family to take care of. Even after we split up he still found a way to support us. He used to go visit you in the hospital and take you places. That's when he became responsible. Now that he's met Carla, I think that he doesn't want to be a kid anymore,"

"That doesn't mean he has to change," Frank sighed sadly.

"It's his life. It's up to him to make his choices. Just like you need to make your choices, Frank," Linda said. "You need to get your grades up,"

"Okay,"

"I'm serious, Frank. No more slacking off. I won't let you play in the band if you don't get your grades up," Linda grabbed her son's chin and forced him to look into her eyes.

"Okay, I'll fix them," he agreed. "I promise,"

"And don't worry about, Gerard, honey," she said. "You two will figure everything out eventually. This world is getting weird where two boys can't be best friends without being called gay. Remember when you two used to walk around everywhere holding hands when you were in elementary school?"

"Yeah," Frank smiled. "What about Jamia?"

"It just takes time," Frank's mother said, draping an arm around his shoulders. "It's hard to wait, but everything gets sorted out in the end,"

"Are you still waiting for your prince charming, Mom?" Frank teased.

"I already met him," she said. "About fifteen years ago playing drums at a bar and wearing leather pants. I knew him once, and that was enough."