Frank Iero's Ultimate Survival Guide to Winning (and Losing) Bets » Frerard

★ Four ★

hello. i'm pushing through this for you guys :') and not to self-promote or anything, buuuut, if you want to read some of my writing that i'm actually proud of, go check out some of my more recent oneshots...

also, i didn't know what else to do as a filler so this one gets a little ✨spicy✨.... enjoy!!

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"Arcade time!" Frank cheered, leaping into the air and shaking his hands dramatically as he turned and beamed at Ray. "We finally fuckin' did it!"

"I did it," Ray corrected, rolling his eyes as they walked down the strip of shops. "You just sat there while I spent two hours convincing Bob to skip practice."

"You two better be buying me, like, ten butterfingers." Bob chimed in. "The guys are gonna be fuckin' pissed at me."

"You can miss one practice," Frank defended. "You're the fucking drummer, they can survive one day without you."

"Actually--"

"We are not getting into this," Ray interrupted, pressing his finger to Bob's lips, making Bob make a disgruntled and disgusted face as he flinched back from it.

"Fuck you guys," Bob grumbled, glaring particularly at Frank.

"I thought you had a girlfriend?" Frank said teasingly -- the only thing keeping Bob from pouncing over and beating his ass being the glare of warning that Ray shot him.

Thankfully, the trio was approaching the fabled arcade by then, and Frank and Bob had finally decided to zip their lips as they excitedly grinned at the lights and signs shrouding the building.

"Woah," Frank breathed out, his eyes lingering over the flashing lights above the storefront reading dramatically -- Arcade!

Sending glances to each other, the three of them instantly bolted for the door, pulling it open and letting out breathless laughs as the atmosphere of the arcade instantly enveloped them -- dark and flashing with screens from the games -- the three of them having to blink to adjust to the difference.

The dark carpet scuffed underneath their shoes, small colorful shapes cascading through the floor of the room, Frank fishing out his wallet and gazing around in awe. "Where do we even start?"

"I call Pacman," Bob blurted out, his eyes already caught onto one of the machines. "I'm gonna try and beat my high score from the pier."

"Are you still mad about that?" Frank asked.

"Um, yeah?" Bob said. "As soon as I got the high score, they wiped the fuckin' machine. It's bullshit."

Frank only raised his hands in defense, raising his eyebrows. "Just don't get too attached to this one. You're scary when you're mad."

"Maybe that's the point," Bob replied, staring at Frank with a flat expression -- frightening him more than he cared to admit as he scurried off towards one of the other machines with Ray.

"What are we playing first?" Frank asked, gazing around as they walked down the row, a few spare quarters jingling in his fist.

"Dig Dug," Ray said quietly, approaching the machine and popping a quarter into the slot. "Watch, I'm gonna fuckin' destroy this."

"I'm watchin'," Frank replied, leaning against the machine as Ray grasped the joystick, his fingers poised and ready over the flashy red buttons.

The game started up, and Ray instantly began, digging down, ready to attack -- when he instantly charred to death by one of the dragons. "What?" He exclaimed. "How?"