Porcelain ♡ Frerard

Chapter 1.

"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

"When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end."
- Stephanie Meyer, 'Twilight'
———

Existential dread. That was the first emotion that registered in Frank Iero's mind the moment he stepped off the plane and proceeded to exit the bustling airport of Astoria that had become startlingly unfamiliar to his cautious eyes sweeping around in comparison to his home residing in California. The second he stepped into the frigid air engulfed by a gloomy atmosphere hanging ominously above his head, Frank felt the remnants of any hope of Astoria being not as dreary as he remembered drained, puddling around the crown of his head like a personal raincloud unleashing a sheet of ice water upon him with each step he took. The thickly knitted clouds entailed a heavy downpour as a rumble sounded through the gray blanket engulfing every inch of familiar blue he sorely missed already as he tilted his head back for a fragment of a second to observe the weather. The scent of rain and humid earth wasn't as unpleasant as the sight of it. Frank's heavy luggage he dragged along and slung over his shoulders felt equivalent to the weight of his body carrying himself through the crowds as he searched for a familiar face awaiting to guide him to his new home.

The reason behind Frank's departure from his sunny personal paradise was voluntary on his behalf, but only halfheartedly. After his father married a bubbly new woman who seemed kind enough as she accepted Frank as her new family, their newfound spark inspired Frank Sr. to return to life on the road yet again, traveling across the states with a drum set and friends to accompany him. Lorelei would be joining, since they were practically sewn together at the hip after their union, and Frank felt misplaced at the thought of becoming a part of his father's new journey. As much as Frank adored him and as fond as he'd become of his new step mother who spoiled him with mastered recipes all entailing sweets, he decided it would be better to separate himself from the bunch while they traveled to settle in with his mother who became partially estranged through the years. Although his father wouldn't admit it, Frank's presence would be a slight inconvenience while on a journey so romantic with Lorelei.

Linda was there, waiting for Frank as expected, and she was nearly the same as he remembered her, save for sprouting gray hairs at her temple and the deepening of lines crinkling at the edges of her eyes as she smiled. Frank was reminded of where his large eyes and thicker eyelids originated from as he observed her, it was nearly haunting to recognize himself in her face when the remaining image of her blurred in his haze of memories piling atop of one another save for the rare video calls. Reality was different from what he saw in person. Frank cracked a smile of his own, and although he dreaded making a home out of his lesser than gleeful looking surroundings, he couldn't deny the fact that he was pleased to see her after five years of no visitations.

"Frank! It's so good to see you again." Linda wrapped Frank into an embrace lacking the awkwardness his father's hugs held. Hers were warm, and snug, spinning Frank's mind with slight surprise. The energy exuding from her always reminded him of a mellow warmth filling him with images of the simplicity of the afternoon. No sense of unpleasantness surrounded her and he felt some of the edge within him fade as he realized the way she felt hadn't changed.

"Hi Lin— um, mom." Frank breathed a chuckle as his cheeks blazed scarlet. He'd grown used to referring to his mother as Linda at home because his father normally addressed her as so. It was how he recognized her these days.

"I haven't seen you in too long." Linda pulled away to curl her hands around Frank's face, taking in each of his features and searching for differences. Frank's eyes widened and flickered around. Some passing people glanced their way and Frank couldn't help the embarrassment pooling hot in his cheeks. It must've been odd to see a woman coddling her eighteen year old son as if he was still a toddler. Or, in their minds, it was possible he didn't look his age. Linda's genetics were to blame for the lack of height, as well as the softness of his features where he should've stood out as masculine the same as his father. Apart from the sharp curve of his jawline, Frank's other features set him apart from his age on a younger scale. Youth was a flattering look, but Frank didn't appreciate the comparisons to thirteen year olds.