I Never Told You What I Do For A Living {Frerard}

Frank Fucking Iero

I never told you what I do for a living

"By any chance... Did you do anything with your shitty life? Did you stay being a fucking dick or did you actually manage to achieve something with yourself?" I ask as I prop my feet up onto the table where a load of papers were, putting my hands behind my head and lean back into the chair. I began watching as the man I had grown to hate so much started to panic, his breaths coming out at irregular intervals, his wrists fighting against the restraints I had put him in.

"P-p-pl-please don't h-hurt me." Peter stutters, surprising me to say at the least. All those years, all those times he laughed at me for stuttering, for pausing and for trailing off in sentences, he would beat me when I wouldn't get my words out straight away. Now he was in my position, the swelling around his eye and the split on his lip proving to the both of us that I was most definitely able to do to him what he had done to me all those years ago, probably even worse than what he had done to me.

I look up at the ceiling with a loud, purposeful sigh. I shake my head as I close my eyes and settle myself further down into the chair, "But why would I spare you like that?" I ask, running my tongue along the back of my teeth as I awaited an answer that I never seemed to get, so I continue, "How many times was it that I had asked you to stop? To spare me and my brothers? To not hurt us? I'll tell you now, I know it was countless times, but I have scars to show for it."

I shrug, as if there wasn't anything I could actually do about the fact that I was going to hurt him, that I was going to kill him, I pretended with myself. I pretended that I wasn't some crazy asshole that was so hellbent on the revenge that had always looked so promising to him. I wasn't someone that cared about small things, I wasn't one to get guilty because of the death of someone that had it coming for them. I was doing the earth a favour, I should have a day to commemorate for the good I done in favour of this world.

I place my legs down onto the floor and push myself up, taking ahold of the revolver I had acquired many months ago, when I thought the whole 'murdering everyone that hurt me or my brothers' thing was going to he simple, perhaps two bullets before dumping bodies. But nothing in life was ever going to be that simple for me, not when I'm Gerard Way.

"I guess I should make this quick." I said in a cheery tone, making my speech and myself sound so much more sinister than I could've expected, Peter cowering as far away from me as the restraints around my wrists and ankles would let him move without actually hurting himself more than he already has.

"No, no, no, please, wait." I pause, cocking my head to the side and raise an eyebrow. Of course there wasn't going to be a way out for him, why would I let him go? Why would I spare him? But I wasn't ever against giving someone some false hope. That was all what my childhood was based on. I hoped I could get away. I hoped someone would help me out of it.

I want him to feel what I had felt.

"My wife, my children, please tell them I love them. I was supposed to be home tonight and they were so excited, my eldest, she came home for the weekend to see me because it's been so long, I don't want them to have to worry about me, please Geebear-"

"Don't call me that!" I scream, grinding my teeth and pulling at my hair, pacing back and forth in front of him, my finger still so tightly held over the trigger. Oh it would be so easy to end it all. For him. For me. Oh so easy.

But thinking about ending my life, it really did bring me back to think about Frank. Little Frank Iero. Frank Iero, that cute guy that took the time and effort to know me, to drink coffee with me in utter silence, Frank Iero, who took me back to his house because he didn't want to end our evening after a weird and awkward kiss and for us to depart. Frank, the guy who stays when he knew I was a weird ass guy that broke into houses and computers for a living.

God damn Frank fucking Iero.

"How old?" I ask suddenly, only now noticing that he said he had a daughter, other children. How long had he been all grown up with a family and wife? When was it exactly that he had started to play around with these people? When did he start lying to these humans? When did he decide it was time for him to start playing a good old game of 'happy little family'? "She turned twenty two only two weeks ago, she's in uni, she's a smart girl," Peter pauses slowly, hesitantly, "almost as smart as you."

He took all of that away from me. I could've been in his daughter's place. If I was that smart, if I had a proper education, if I had the support. I could've gone to university, I could've gotten a degree in whatever mad shit I would've wanted to do with my life if I actually had a proper childhood. He let his child do what she wanted to do with her life, but he took all those sorts of opportunity away from me because he was a fucking dick.

He took all of that away from me. All of it.

I shake my head, wiping at my nose and blinked away the tears, "Your other kids? How old are they?"

"Well you know that Charley is twenty two. Tate is nineteen, Heidi, she's fifteen and Darwin, he's turning three next month."

I nodded with a smile, jealous of each one of those children. My smile fades as I look back up at the man that ruined me, "It's such a shame that they're losing their dear, dear daddy." His eyes widen as I bring the gun up to his face and pull the trigger with no hesitation.

There goes all that he stood for.