A Lifetime with a Demon | Frank Iero x Reader

⛧Everything comes to an end⛧

The 3am air is thick – it makes me feel like if pulled under water, maybe the lack of sleep or another trivial reason gets everything so artificial or, perhaps, exact the opposite.

The few minutes I spend in the bathroom feel like forever, but I find out it has just barely been eight minutes since the last text I sent Frank and a groan escapes my lips when I move to sit down on the bed, waiting for the message to let me know he is here.

My thoughts avert to everything that has been going on with Frank and, to be honest, I am not so sure about what I have said, regarding how I'm all excited about what's going on and getting to know him more. I mean, does he want the same thing? Frank's shyness is not just shyness, it is also defensiveness, a shield he puts on whenever he is around me, a mask preventing me from knowing his true self because I know that Frank isn't the real Frank, not completely. This can be frustrating.

I am not saying it is not Frank when he looks at me from under his lashes and offers a sheepish smile whenever I flirt with him or he asks me if I'm sure about all of this. No, damn, it's almost the opposite. I'm asking for more moments like when he tells me about how he likes going out with me or how pure it all becomes when he just melts in my arms when we hug after minutes of kissing or tells me a dumb story involving the other guys. I just hate when he hesitates to tell me something – at times, really stupid and trivial things – and acts like if I would shatter under the minimal pressure of the wrong words.

Gerard, as an example, hasn't been hiding himself away like that. Bert and the others – you can clearly see when they have something to hide, how their moods change and they don't like doing it themselves. They all let me know them.

To be honest, I don't even know why I'm relating all of these together, damn.

Fucking hell. I am overthinking again. I hate this. Both the fact I'm overthinking and all these intensified and messy feelings. It's not the time. Never trust goddamn 3am thoughts, never, even more when you're drunk with sleep, stressed with life and a thousand other things that can make your thoughts lead to shitty impulsive actions.

Where in the hell is even Frank?

Frank:
I'm here

As I walk out of the house, the cold air embraces me, an opposite to the warm feeling that fills my chest in the moment I see Frank there. I smile. "Hey."

"Hi..." Frank breathes and cracks a grin after some moment. "I, um, see? I told you." He brings his hands up to show a knife. Then a cupcake. I glare, what makes him chuckle as approaching. "But it's for a good thing, I promise," he mutters as he grabs the knife and cuts the cupcake in two before handing it to me with a proud smile.

"Hell, Frankie, you're so stupid!" I breathe a chuckle as taking the other half in hand. "How do I know you're not poisoning me?"

"You don't. That's the game," he teases back with the same casualty as cleaning the knife and retracting it so he can tuck it in his jacket's pocket. His smile widens the more I glare at him, so I decide to just eat my half anyways. "Mikey prepared this, actually, he can cook well when he wants to."

A hum of approval comes from me as I observe the cupcake for a moment.

We are unable to talk, due to eating, in a way only few nods are enough to decide we should start to walk by now. Silence hovers around us even after we're done eating and the red paper of the cupcake is rolled up in the bottom of a random trashcan. Still, Frank's tension is noticeable. His shoulders, his eyebrows, the extra blinking – it all gives away he's got something and the reason we're here is influenced by more than just boredom.