The rest of the day dragged, even though my gut was twisted with anticipation and excitement. Gerard had told me to meet him at the park after school, and I couldn't wait to go.

The bell rang, and to me it was music to my ears as I skipped out of the classroom, earning weird looks from students passing by. Throwing my stuff in my locker, I walked home, bubbling over with anticipation.

"Dad, guess what!" I grinned as I dumped my bag on the floor.

He looked at me and smiled. "Good news?"

"Yep! I made a new friend today! His name's Gerard, and I'm supposed to meet him at the park…can I go?"

"Of course you can, son. I'm proud of you. Have fun, be safe!"

I love my dad.

I gave him a quick hug before grabbing an apple and walking back out the door, heading for the park.

I sat down on a bench once I got there and waited for Gerard to arrive.

Five minutes had passed and my happiness was starting to ebb away. Maybe he wasn't coming at all. Maybe I was stupid to think we could be friends. Maybe-

"Hey, Frank. Sorry I'm late," Gerard said as he walked over the grass.

"It's fine," I smiled. "Is your house far from here?"

"Not really. It's only a block away."

"Do you want to go, then…?" I asked, confidence suddenly evaporated, shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other.

He laughed. "Of course. Come on, let's go."

I smiled and followed him up the street.

We stopped in front of a rather plain, but still nice, house.

"Um…" Gerard said quietly. "Wait here."

I obeyed, and he walked up the paved walkway, opening the door just a little bit before sighing and flicking one finger in a signal for me to join him.

"Frank, I'm sorry you have to see this, so do you mind if we go straight to my room?"

"No, I don't mind."

He exhaled, "Okay," and the door swung open.

It was not at all what I expected.

There were stains on the carpet- most likely from vomit, judging from the bottles of vodka and whiskey that littered the couch. It was filthy, to say the least. A drunken figure lay sprawled and snoring loudly on the couch, and the B.O. coming from that guy almost burned my eyes.

Gerard pulled me quickly towards a door that probably led to his room, and when he opened it, yanked me inside, and shut the door and locked it I knew it was, even before I turned around.

He had his own bathroom, to which I was grateful, and the posters littering the walls meant he had fantastic taste in music. His bedcovers were slightly ruffled, but other than that it was rather clean.

He sat down on the black and red duvet, motioning for me to sit down beside him. I did so.

"No one's ever been to my house before except Robin Martin in 5th grade, but he moved. I'm sure it's a bit of a shock, isn't it?"

I nodded quietly.

"So," he said in a businesslike tone. "You first. Who is Frank Iero?"

"Do you promise you won't judge me?"

"Frank, I'm pretty sure I'm worse than you are. I won't judge you."

I took off my sweater and pressed my forearms to my knees. Slowly, I turned them over and showed him.

He didn't scoff, and he didn't look at me like a freak.

You know what he did?

He smiled.

Rather sadly, actually.

"Come with me," he said softly. I followed him to his bathroom.

He took a washcloth, wet it, put…makeup remover… on it, and began scrubbing his left arm. I couldn't see what was happening, since we were facing each other and he was holding his forearm to his chest.

Finally, he showed me the washcloth. It was covered with…concealer?

Then he showed me his arm.

Our scars matched.

"Gerard," I gasped.

"I hid them. I never wanted anyone to know what I had done. I was scared, ashamed…I was alone, Frank."

To my disbelief, I saw that he had begun to cry.

In a small bathroom, on September 17th, I, Frank Iero, wrapped my arms around Gerard Way, and whispered, "It's okay. You're okay."

He hugged me back and breathed, "I am now."

If he had any idea the effect those words had on me, he probably would have said it differently.

But he didn't. And it meant the world to me.

Suddenly, I felt something hot and wet drip onto the back of my shirt.

I look around to see him crying.

All I can do is hold him tighter.

We stay like that for an eternity, or maybe a minute, and finally he releases me and I him. We stare at each other for a second before he smiles weakly at me. I smile back and rub my thumb across his cheek, wiping away the tears.

But when I remove my hand there is a hint of purple on his face. And it doesn't look like makeup.

I look at my fingers.

There's concealer on them.

"Gerard, can you go sit back down on your bed for a minute? I have to do something."

He looks curious, but nods and returns to his mattress.

I grab the same washcloth he used, rinse it off, and apply more makeup remover to it. Then I walked back into his bedroom and stood next to his bed.

"Lie down on your back," I instructed.

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

He did so.

I got on his bed and kneeled at his feet, hiding the cloth behind my back. Without warning, I pounced on him, straddling his waist and pinning him down further with my free hand. I took the washcloth and began to scrub his face.

At first, he didn't react, his eyes wide and breathing shallow, but then he realized what I was doing and began to squirm.

"Gerard…just…let me," I panted, struggling to hold him.

"Frank, get off…me," he half-shouted.

That's it. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I lay completely over him and pushed him down as hard as I could. I suppose in any other situation it would have been extremely awkward. Not that it wasn't, I was just focused on getting the makeup off of his face.

He seemed to be struggling a bit less.

"Frank…don't…"

His voice was weaker, too.

I looked straight at him. "Gerard, please, just let me."

He sighed. "I guess you'd have to find out sometime."

I took that as permission.

I climbed off of him and instead kneeled next to his head, wiping all the concealer off more gently now.

Once I was done, I removed the cloth from his face.

I inhaled sharply.

Bruises and cuts covered his face.

"What happened?"

"My family happened."

"Your dad?"

"And my mom. And Mikey."

"Mikey?"

"My brother."

"Your brother did this to you?" I gasped, feeling tears welling up in my eyes.

"He helped. He's not exactly…"

"What?"

"…Sane," he mumbled.

"How so?"

"He has a mental disorder, okay? Mikey…he's bipolar. Really bad."

"…Oh," I said in a small voice.

Gerard sighed, hugging his stomach protectively.

I lay down next to him on my back, mirroring his position.

"Hey," I nudged his shoulder with mine. "It's going to be okay."

He sighed again. "I hope so."

I propped myself up on one elbow and grabbed his chin, turning his head to face mine. "Look at me. I'm going to make sure you make it through this."

Tears began falling from his eyes again, down over his battered cheeks. "Did you ever see what happens when I look in a mirror?"

I was stunned. I looked back over to his bathroom to realize that he, indeed, did not have a mirror. "No."

"It's because I'm so…I'm so fucking hideous!" he yelled, curling upwards as if doing a sit-up and crying into his palms.

"Gerard…Gerard…Gee, shush, it's alright."

He fell back onto his bed, sniffling and wiping his eyes. "You c-called me Gee," he said, not like a question, just stating it.

"Huh," I mused. "I did. I don't know where it came from, honestly…"

"I like it."

"You do?"

He sniffed again. "Yeah. No one's ever called me that. It's always been 'Gerard,' or 'Way,' or 'Teacher's Pet.'"

"They call you that?"

He shrugged. "It's because I work hard to keep my grades up, because I don't want to end up like my dad, if that's a dad."

I nodded. "You're actually an inspiration, you know. And you're not hideous."

He scoffed. "Please. The only reason my 'friends' stick with me is because I give them help on their homework."

"Well, don't help them!"

"Then I'd just be alone," he whimpered.

"Uh, hello? What am I, chopped liver?" I said exasperatedly.

Suddenly, he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Frank?" he breathed.

I waved. "Hiya."

He propped himself up on his elbows and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could my phone buzzed. I groaned and looked at the screen.

It was from my dad. Hey, time to come home, kiddo.

"I have to go," I grumbled.

Gerard's eyes widened. "Don't leave!"

I absentmindedly rubbed his knee. "I'll see you in the morning. Just make it through the night. I'll sleep over if I can tomorrow."

He nodded, biting his lip. Suddenly, he buried his face in my chest, breathing deeply.

"I don't want you to go," he choked.

I patted his hair awkwardly. "Gerard, if you feel threatened in any way at any time, call me."

I grabbed a pen lying on his bedside table and wrote my number on his arm.

He nodded, clinging to my shirt. "Okay."

I stood up and made to leave, but then turned around. "Gerard?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you going to say before my phone interrupted you?"

"I, uh…" he said, picking at a loose thread and looking up at me from under his eyelashes. "I was going to say, are we like, official friends now?"

I fought the urge to scream, "Hell yes, we are!" but instead simply replied with a nod and a small smile.

There were two Gerard's now. A confident, outgoing Gerard I idolized, and a fragile, concealed Gerard I supposed I protected.

As I darted through the tainted fumes of the rest of the house and out the door, walking down the pathway, I thought about something that had happened earlier.

Gerard had seemed a bit more passive than he should have been while I was wiping the makeup off of his face, lying across him.

Maybe I was being a naive teenager. But I'm allowed to think.

Part of me hoped he was straight.

And another part…rather disagreed.

THE IRONIC TWIST. HOW EXPECTEDLY UNEXPECTED xD

EHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHH *failed evil scientist laugh*