Frank barely even remembered work, and it wasn't because he was drunk or anything; it was just boring, and monotonous, but it was a way to make money, and thankfully it ended quickly at the very least.
And even though Frank had probably drank enough last night to reach his alcohol consumption levels for the week, he found himself turning his feet toward his favorite bar, not because he particularly wanted to get wasted tonight, but because he was hoping to find someone to take him home so he wouldn't have to return to his room with the pillow that was probably still slightly damp with his tears from last night for a few more hours.
He was well aware the he could sneak back into Pete's house and just spend the night with him, but he knew Pete would want to make him talk more about his "feelings" and Frank didn't want that, not tonight, maybe not ever.
He wanted someone who didn't know a thing about the real Frank Iero, someone who wouldn't ask how he was holding up, or offer him advice and comfort. Frank just wanted to forget about his father right now, especially since he had ignored the text Frank had sent him this morning, simply stating that Frank missed him. Frank hadn't really been expecting a reply; he wasn't even sure if his father still had the same phone number anymore, but a fucking "I do too" would have been really nice - nowhere near enough by any means, but it would have been a start.
So that is why Frank wanted - no, needed, another man's arms around him tonight, telling him he was beautiful, and special, because maybe he would actually believe it this time, and maybe - just maybe, it would lessen the pain of the complete radio silence he had been receiving from his father for the past two years.
The other guys from work had decided to head straight home after their shift had ended; it was a Monday night after all, so they had a long week ahead of them, and his coworkers actually used the bar to get wasted, instead of a pick-up zone - not that Frank wasn't planning on drinking, he just wanted to be able to actually remember who he went home with, if he was fortunate enough to get that far.
When Frank pushed open the door to the pub, he found it decently empty, which wasn't a surprise. Friday and Saturday nights were the busiest time of the week, and Frank knew that, but he thought he would try his luck anyway.
There was a larger, much more populated club kind of thing further into town, and although Frank would probably have a better chance of finding a willing guy there, he wasn't close with the bartenders at that establishment, and his fake ID only fooled the bouncers about fifty percent of the time.
Brendon waved at him from behind the counter when he caught sight of Frank, and he returned the gesture. Frank considered him a friend, even though he never hung out with him outside of the bar. Brendon owned this place, and he and his boyfriend Ryan were the sweetest people Frank had the pleasure of knowing.
Frank had been attracted to Brendon when he first started coming here, but that quickly dissipated when he saw how perfect Brendon and Ryan were together. They were literally the most adorable couple he had ever seen, and even though he wanted to throw up sometimes when they got especially mushy in front of him, he didn't blame them for it. If Frank had someone look at him the way Ryan did to Brendon, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him either.
"Just the usual Frank?" Brendon smiled down at him as Frank placed himself on what he had claimed as "his bar stool".
"Yeah, where's Ryan?" Frank asked when he didn't spot the headband wearing man anywhere.
"In the back, balancing the books. I swear I would lose this place if it wasn't for him. I don't have the right sort of mind for numbers." Brendon's lip twitched upward slightly as he talked about his boyfriend, and Frank felt a slight pang of jealously erupt in his chest. He wanted what Brendon and Ryan had, and even though he knew it would never happen, it still hurt sometimes, and his emotional defenses hadn't recovered entirely after last night's breakdown.
"Stop gushing about your boyfriend and get me my drink," Frank teased, to which Brendon saluted him and started messing around behind the bar, emerging a minute later with Frank's jack and coke.
"So how's life treating you?" Brendon asked as he leaned against the counter with a sigh. Frank didn't mind when Brendon asked this, because he knew it was just small talk, and Brendon didn't expect a real answer.
Frank had actually opened up quite a bit to Brendon in the past, back when he couldn't hold his alcohol, and the sympathetic bartender had been willing to lend an ear to the pathetic mess that was Frank Iero. He knew about his father, and even a little about his mother's condition that his loosened tongue had let slip. Still, he never pressed Frank on anything; he just let him talk when he needed to get something off of his chest, and provided him with alcohol to make the act easier.
Frank was pretty sure that Brendon knew he was underage, he had to by now, given how much information he had provided him with, but he had never refused him service, to which Frank was eternally gratefully. Besides for Pete, Brendon was the closest thing Frank had to friend, and even if he didn't manage to score tonight, it was still nice to pass the time away with Brendon.
"Not great, but that's nothing new. I'm just so fucking tired of everything you know. This is all I have to look forward to." Frank ended up admitting a bit more than he had been meaning to, but this was Brendon after all, and his understanding smile and kind nature just had that kind of effect on Frank.
"I know Frank, but at least you are still young. You have time, which is something a lot of my regulars don't have. Keep fighting, and it might just turn around one day," Brendon encouraged him, receiving a weak smile from Frank in return.
Frank wanted to believe that Brendon was right, and he would wake up tomorrow, or sometime in the near future, and his life would magically fix itself; maybe his dad would come home, and his mother would go back to normal, and Frank could be happy again, but he knew that was just a fool's hope, and he wasn't stupid enough to think that could ever happen.
"Yeah - my friend Pete keeps telling me that, I just wish I could pause time, I need a break you know?" Frank shrugged causally, because he knew that probably everyone in the world thought the same thing at one point in their life or another, and sometimes he felt bad for acting like his situation was so horrible; he was well aware that he could have it much worse.
"Well as soon as I figure out how to invent a machine that does that, you will be the first to know," Brendon giggled. Frank didn't have time to respond before he was called away to refill another customer's drink, so he simply sipped on his own beverage slowly.
Now that he was left to himself for a bit, Frank took the time to observe who else was sharing the bar with him tonight. Like he said before, it was a slow night, and this town wasn't huge, so it was the just the regular crowd of older men and the odd woman or two who spent practically every night here, just like Frank.
He should have known better than to expect to find a quick hookup on a Monday night, and if he was smart, he would have tried his luck at the club which he couldn't remember the name of, but Frank didn't feel up to facing the pounding music and strobe lights of that place; he would much rather be in Brendon's pub, which currently had Nirvana playing through the crappy old speakers on a low volume, even if he would end up going home alone.
Frank finished his drink slowly, chatting with Brendon occasionally as he passed by in-between making his rounds, but after his third jack and coke, Frank began to think about calling it a night and catching up on some sleep.
Just then though, the small bell over the door jingled softly, and Frank's eyes were drawn to the newcomer who entered the bar with his head down and his jacket pulled tightly around him.
He looked young; older than Frank by a few years, but he couldn't be more than twenty-five. His blonde hair was pushed back from his thin face, exposing the darker roots which proved that it was colored, and Frank liked what he saw.
Everything about him, from the prominent cheekbones to the honey colored eyes were very attractive, and Frank decided to stay for at least one more drink so he could feel this guy out, raising his hand so Brendon would know that he wanted another.
The stranger slipped into the barstool two away from Frank's, barely lifting his head so he could whisper his order to Brendon as he passed by in the process of giving Frank his next drink.
Frank was pretty certain that he had never seen this guy before, and not just at the bar, but like anywhere, which was a bit odd. Belleville was a relatively small city, and even though Frank wasn't going to boast and say he knew everyone here, he was sure he would have noticed this guy if he had spied him wandering around town.
He was cute, totally Frank's type, and even though Frank saved his hookups for the pub, that didn't meant he couldn't look at attractive guys when they passed by, and he was sure this man would have caught his eye if they had ever crossed paths before.
That left Frank to wonder if he had recently moved here or something, which was slightly strange; not that many people willing chose to live in Belleville, but maybe this guy didn't have a say in the matter.
When Brendon placed Frank's drink next to him, Frank motioned to the newcomer with his eyes, which was their universal symbol meaning Frank wanted to buy this round for the guy.
Frank wasn't made of money, obviously, but he had found that this was an excellent way to break the ice, and one more charge on his tab wasn't going to kill him. Brendon was always telling him to take his time paying his balance back anyway; he knew Frank was reliable, and he never minded cutting him a break when funds were tight.
Frank stayed quiet as Brendon delivered the stranger his drink, whispering in his ear and pointing to Frank when the guy shot him a questioning look. Brendon was used to Frank's habit of picking up guys by now, and he even attempted to help him if he caught sight of a good looking one before Frank did.
Frank smiled sheepishly as the man's eyes fell on him, and even though the guy didn't smile back, he grabbed his drink and moved over to occupy the barstool next to Frank.
"Thanks man, seriously," the guy spoke up and a slight grin finally emerged, it was more of a twitch at the corner of his lips than a true grin, but it was something. Frank sensed that his face didn't carry that expression often, so he felt slightly honored to have received a positive response.
"No problem, I know what it feels like to need a drink."
"Still, it means a lot. I just moved back into town, and it's nice to see that not everyone is a complete asshole."
"Yeah - we aren't all dicks, just ninety nine percent of us," Frank giggled slightly.
"Seriously, I think I would have gone insane already if Ray hadn't come back with us. There is nothing to do here, and everyone seems to have a stick up their ass," the still nameless guy ranted, moving his hands around slightly as he spoke. Frank had a feeling that this wasn't his first drink of the night, because even though he didn't smell like alcohol, most people weren't this open with complete strangers two minutes after meeting them.
"Why did you decide to move here then if you hate it so much?" Frank asked, and he was actually genuinely curious. Most people who left Belleville didn't even bother with a backward glance, much less actually returning here.
"It wasn't my choice, believe me. My brother wanted to get back to our roots for some fucking stupid reason, and I don't really have anywhere else to go. He's all I have left now that everything went to shit." The guy's explanation was vague, but Frank understood what he was saying, or at least the gist of it. Honestly, this stranger reminded Frank a lot of himself, and he could relate to being stuck in a situation that he couldn't escape from, no matter how much he hated it.
"So what's your name?" Frank asked, choosing not to press the guy for more information; he would keep talking if he wanted to, and Frank wasn't going to do the exact same thing that he so despised when other people did it to him.
"Oh yeah...it's Mikey, well I guess it's technically Michael, but no one ever calls me that anymore," he chuckled softly, polishing off his drink before motioning to Brendon for another.
"I'm Frank."
"You're nice Frank, I like you," Mikey stated solemnly, and that was when Frank noticed how wide his pupils were blown out, and Frank knew alcohol wasn't the only substance in his body right now. Frank really didn't have a problem with people taking drugs, they just freaked him out a little bit, probably because he had never tried them - alcohol was good enough for him.
"I like you too Mikey," Frank smiled, trying to ignore the fact that Mikey was probably incredibly high right now, not to mention Brendon giving him the thumbs up from behind Mikey's back.
They continued chatting for another hour or so about everything and nothing, skirting around the deeper topics, even though Mikey alluded to his demons a couple more times. They consumed probably a few too many drinks in the process, but Frank wasn't really worried. He was actually genuinely enjoying Mikey's company, and although he still wanted to end up in his bed later on tonight, even if that didn't happen, he was still happy he had met him.
"Fuck - my head is spinning," Mikey announced as he pushed away his empty glass, but this was only his third drink, so unless he was a major lightweight, he shouldn't be too drunk yet.
"You okay dude?" Frank asked in a concerned tone of voice, but he was met with Mikey's back as he all but sprinted to the bathroom.
After waiting for Mikey to return for about five minutes, Frank decided to go check on him. He found the poor guy hunched over the toilet seat; he hadn't managed to lock the door to the stall properly, so it had swung open, revealing his crumpled form to anyone that happened to walk into the bathroom.
Frank didn't say anything; he simply sat on the nasty floor next to him and rubbed his back soothingly as he dry heaved a couple of times, producing nothing but saliva and bile.
"Not too good at holding your liquor huh?" Frank chuckled lightly when Mikey finally lifted his head from the lid of the toilet seat.
"No, it's not that. Fuck - I think I took some bad coke, I don't know if I can get up," Mikey groaned as he slumped backwards so his spine was resting against the wall.
"Shit - has this happened before? Should I call an ambulance?" Frank gasped, suddenly very unsure of what to do. He was an expert when it came to dealing with drunk people, having plenty of experience with himself, but a cocaine overdose was entirely new to him.
"No, I'm not gonna OD, I probably just got a bad batch - I think it was Matt's old stash, should have known he would buy shitty drugs," Mikey grumbled so quietly that Frank could barely hear him.
"What should I do?" Frank didn't want to admit that he was panicking slightly, but he liked Mikey, and he didn't want him to die here in this nasty bathroom while he just sat back and watched.
"I'll be okay in a few hours, but can you drive me home? I didn't bring my car..."
"I didn't drive either..." Frank admitted guiltily, even though he had no reason to feel bad about that. Frank couldn't afford a vehicle yet, even though he had been saving up for one, and his mother had to go to work in the morning, so he hadn't borrowed her car for the night like he did on some occasions, just in case he didn't make it home before she had to leave.
"That's okay, I'll just call my brother," Mikey grinned weakly, patting the pockets of his tight jeans with shaking hands, but he didn't seem to be able to find his phone.
"Do you need help reaching it?" Frank finally spoke when Mikey threw his hands up in frustration after digging in his jacket as well.
"No - fucking hell, I think I left it at Ray's..."
"You can borrow mine," Frank offered, but Mikey simply shook his head.
"I don't know Gerard's fucking number because he just got a new phone..." Mikey groaned, letting his head fall back in defeat.
"Well...do you live far? I can help you walk home at the very least."
"Really? Fuck you are sweet, but we better hurry before I get worse," Mikey grimaced as he spoke, as if even the act of speaking was hurting him.
"Yeah - okay," Frank mumbled to himself as he slipped his arms under Mikey's, heaving his limp frame up off of the tile floor with a bit of effort. Mikey was tall, but he was lanky too, and he wasn't very heavy - thank fuck for that.
They managed to walk out of the bathroom with minimal trouble, even though Mikey was leaning most of his weight against Frank. Brendon shot them a worried look as they stumbled by, but Frank simply smiled at him.
Frank hoped that Brendon didn't blame himself for Mikey's condition; Brendon hated when he over-served his customers and they got sick because of it, and he mentally reminded himself to explain it to Brendon the next time he saw him, which would probably be tomorrow night, because there was no way he was going to try and sleep with Mikey while he was in this sorry state, so he would have to try again tomorrow with a different guy.
"You doing okay?" Frank asked once they had made it outside into the relatively fresh air. It was the end of July though, so it was hot and muggy, even at this late hour.
"Yeah - I'm good. I live on Green Court Street, in that big apartment complex," Mikey gasped out, and Frank could tell that he wasn't being completely honest about his condition.
"I know where that is," Frank informed him. Actually, it was pretty close to his own house, only two streets over to be precise, so it wasn't out of his way at all.
"I'm so sorry about this Frank, I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"It's cool dude, I'm just glad I was with you when it happened," Frank smiled, even though Mikey probably didn't see it because his eyes were half closed, and his head was lolling against Frank's shoulder.
Frank really didn't mind though, because Mikey was the most interesting person he had met in ages, and he didn't even care that he wasn't going to get laid tonight. If Mikey followed through on his promise to make it up to him, then maybe it would happen sometime in the near future, but if not, Frank hoped he and Mikey could at least stay in contact. Maybe he would finally make another friend besides Pete for once - or even a boyfriend.
Frank tried to stamp down on that pointless hope as soon as it was formed in his head, but he couldn't seem to squash it entirely. Mikey was nice, even if he seemed a little fucked up - Frank wasn't one to judge, and he couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed pointless conversation so much. Usually he just nodded and smiled until the guy finally offered to take him home, but with Mikey, he had actually listened.
He knew better than to expect something like that though, because Mikey was at least a few years older than Frank, and he probably wouldn't like him anymore once he was sober, or even remember him for that matter.
Frank's buoyant mood instantly deflated at the thought, even though he shouldn't be so crushed over this - it was nothing, but Frank was fragile right now, and his aching heart weighed him down even more than Mikey's heavy body as he pulled him along the deserted streets.
Yay I finished this chapter tonight! I wasn't sure if I was going to since I have to work early in the morning, but sleep is for the weak anyway.
Wow guy - this story already has 1.2k reads, and this is only the third chapter. Thank you so much, seriously, this is the best response I have ever gotten on a fic before, so that makes me really happy
This chapter is dedicated to therevengeparade because we are going to make salsa kink a thing, and she is my lovely salsa nips who I adore and bond over Stucky feels with.
Also, I started a rewrite of my first Frerard - So Little Time, so if you want to go check that out, that would be super awesome ^_^
((((updating vibes))))
<3 starr