(Frerard) Ozone

1

The cheap alarm clock in his room started to buzz violently, the bright red numbers flashing the time. 5:00. 5:00. 5:00.

Frank Iero swung his arm up, and almost breaking the button trying to turn it off. He pushed back his covers and stood up quietly. The room was dark - he was forced to navigate out to the hallway by memory, trying not to trip on anything he'd strewn across the floor at some point. A chill breeze crept through the tilted-open window he had forgotten to close last night. The room was silent but for the low hum of insects and distant cars on the highway, giving Frank the sense he had woken up much earlier.

Walking soundlessly so he didn't disturb Amy, who was in the room across the hall, from her sleep, Frank went down the stairs into the kitchen. He cursed the fall - the nights were getting longer, pushing the sunrise later and later. The only time it was light enough to see at 5:00 was during the summer - and only a few days at that. Frank wished the turn of the year would come faster. 2007 can eat my shit, he thought to himself morosely as his eyes adjusted to even more darkness.

For breakfast, Frank made himself a coffee. He would have to leave soon for work - the drive took over an hour. While the coffee machine grumbled, he leaned against the countertop and rubbed his eyes. It was always hard getting up on Monday. Frank tried to make the least noise possible - Amy didn't like to be woken up early.

Amy was his girlfriend. Actually, she was his fake girlfriend - and he was her fake boyfriend. That's what came from having homophobic parents - Frank and Amy were still technically single, but had to pretend otherwise for both of their parents. Frank wondered if he'd ever have to fake a proposal, or maybe organize a forged breakup. That was something to worry about another day.

They'd lived with each other for at least two years after university - they were both 26 years old. Frank never knew what he wanted to do with his life, so he settled for some information analysis degree and a vague plan to maybe become an accountant - best case scenario work for the FBI. He didn't end up as one - instead, he worked as an information logger in the Pentagon. It was definitely as boring as it sounded, and it wasn't as cool to work in the Pentagon as everyone thought it was. He was just as delusioned when he was in high school.

Back in high school, Frank was the weird, slightly goth kid who would play guitar constantly. This was a bit off the charts for someone from a catholic private school. He didn't have many friends. High school was some of the worst years of his life - dealing with getting beat up every week, incessant bible talk, and trying to grapple with both his sexuality and his mental health. In university, it did improve slightly. He met a few people, including a pretty-eyed boy, whose eyes became far less pretty when he left him not a month after they were together for a flirty girl he met in the bar one night. Frank didn't know where he ended up.

Frank slipped into the bathroom and dressed silently in a black suit. This was standard business attire for the Pentagon. The room was small and cluttered, a clouded glass window above the toilet and a shower taking up a quarter of the space. He stood in the small bathroom, the counter covered with so much of Amy's makeup and hair products that he couldn't see the grey stone anymore. He didn't mind. Sometimes, he could take some and she wouldn't notice. His parents would shudder if they knew he used to wear eyeliner.

Yeah. Frank's parents. They didn't really know how to handle having an edgy, unpopular, friendless short kid as a son. They also probably wouldn't be able to handle having a gay son, if he ever told them. Frank lived his life aware that if he ever met someone and got a boyfriend, he would have to find a way to break it to them, or, he thought darkly, never tell them at all. It's not like they deserved to know anything about the son they never really loved. Frank took a breath, stowing away all his grudges to the part of his mind that he never looked at for too long.