Forever is a Long Time . . . (A Frank Iero and My Chemical Romance Fan-Fiction)

Chapter One

When We Were Young We Used To Say

I've known Frank ever since we first met in preschool. The teacher sat us next to each other and we didn't actually speak until three months later. It's all a little fuzzy now, but I can still remember the first time he ever spoke to me.

One day in December, he just turned to me and said, "Hi, my name is Frank Iero. What's your name?" I had always been a shy kid but somehow I mustered up enough courage to shakily respond. "My name is Paige Kline."

"Hi Paige, I like your name."

"Thank you, I like yours too, Frank."

Somehow, out of that awkward preschool exchange came one of the best friendships you could ever imagine. From that day on, Frank and I were practically inseparable.

As kids, Frank and I would spend every waking moment together. In elementary school, we spent weekends and afternoons running around in the park. We'd hang out over each other's houses, doing our homework together and playing for hours in each other's rooms.

As we neared middle school, I feared that our friendship would change. I'd always heard that boys didn't want to be friends with girls once sixth grade peeked around the corner. I was afraid I'd lose Frank even though I couldn't imagine my life without him.

And our friendship did end up changing; it got stronger.

We still hung out all the time like we did when we were kids, but our time spent together evolved with our age. Instead of running around in the park, we'd spend hours sitting on the swings just talking. Our homework took a little longer to do but once we finished it we'd be together the whole night just listening to music and watching scary movies that our parents had told us to stay away from. These were some of the best times I'd spent with Frank; the best times I'd ever spent with anyone.

Thirteen years after that first meeting in preschool I sat in my twelfth grade physics class, Frank right beside me. I picked my head up from my notes and just looked at him for a moment. Though he still had the mind of a toddler, it was remarkable how much Frank had changed since that first nervous, preschool encounter.

Frank was different than most other people; he was confident and did what he wanted. Rarely did he give a fuck as to what others thought of him, and that was reflected in almost everything about him. He wasn't afraid to be who he wanted, dress how he wanted, do what he wanted; he was just Frank.

The boy I'd met in preschool was shy and quiet and never in a million years would you think he would grow up to be the teenage boy I sat next to now. Frank had taken a liking to a sort of punk rock style of sorts. He had jet black hair streaked with red and enough piercings to frighten most young children, but underneath his tough exterior, he was one of the nicest people you'd ever meet, and he had always been that way.

From the first day I'd met him, Frank was one of the most supportive and understanding people I knew. As the time progressed, Frank and I started to build a different kind of friendship. At this point it was obvious to just about every other human in existence that Frank and I were inseparable. We had become a package deal of sorts; rarely did someone talk about one of us without having to mention the other because we were almost always together.

There was barely a time when I wasn't around Frank. He was the one person I felt like I could go to when I needed someone. Like when I was nine and my parents split up; the first person I ran to when I found out they were getting a divorce was Frank. I ran right to his house without a second thought. When I got there I hugged him and cried for hours, and he just let me. He stayed up with me all that night and let me cry it out; I don't think anyone else in the world would have done that for me, not then and not now.