Frank Iero x Reader Oneshots

I am here | F.I. x Reader

(A/n)

Requested on Tumblr

TW for sh and sc hinting, depression description

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The guys are onstage, but there's no public, not today, not now. They're just practicing and the next college's festival isn't in another week. The distorted notes are loud through the empty place and sometimes you're able to hear the echo whenever they come to a sudden stop to adjust something or jump to another song in a small show just to me plus a few other people who also bother to sit down in front of the stage in foldable chairs, up to ignoring the light autumn drizzle.

"And now, this could be the last of all the rides we take, so hold on tight and don't look back," Gerard sings and falls in silence again, only the instruments taking in with the song, probably checking the rhythm.

Gerard holds onto the microphone even if it's still set on the stand and has a hand on his hip while watching the others playing, headbanging according to the song's rhythm. All of them seem to put their soul into each note they play, just like always.

Sometimes I find myself comparing how they are nowadays to how they once were, all of us driving around piled up in Gerard's car to find a store that sold instruments and equipment for a price we could afford, and counting every penny we found buried between the seats. Determination always made it easier, really. Our satisfaction after every gig was enough to drown whatever dissatisfaction we had because high-school was like shit, after all.

I wonder where this whole feeling went.

Not regarding My Chem, of course, but regarding myself. I'm more than happy to have seen them evolve into what they are now, even playing occasinal gigs and opening shows, and fuck, they have grown into something amazing that I've just not been able to keep up to. My peak resumes itself to having played the drums and the bass for them a few rare times and that's it. Pathetic, honestly.

A sigh escapes my lips as I adjust myself on the chair, watching them laugh about something I've missed.

What the hell am I even doing here, in this fucking world? What's my existence worth after I threw everything in the trash?

This feeling that I don't deserve to be here – in college, with them, alive – still bugs me incessantly. I'm not as good as them, not as interesting as them or even as smart because I'm failing in a few subjects, and all of it is probably dragging them behind, giving them yet another worry and a very much useless one.

The instruments are finally put away and the guys start walking backstage – Frank calls me to get off the rain, bouncing lightly on his feet, and throws his arms around me as soon as I'm close enough. He grins and pecks my lips, helplessly making me grin in return.

"We should go eat something! They were preparing something when we walked by the cafeteria!" He hooks his arm around mine and starts to drag me back inside the building with him, following the others but still a good distance behind them. "I've been thinking about eating since the last lecture. Maybe I was just hungry, but the smell was really good!"

"Yeah," I chuckle, nodding. "Sounds like a good idea."

Frank doesn't talk a lot – I mean, despite his rants, he always gives space for the others to talk and can be a good listener –, but I can just sense him struggling to have me engrossed into conversations. It's subtle. He never said it explicitly, but he's always coming up with more and more subjects, mostly the ones I vividly remember ranting to him about or telling him how much I like them. Sometimes he'll just bring up all the details of something in the attempt to find something that has my attention. It's frustrating.