Frank has everything. He's good looking, rich and by becoming a well known photographer he's living his childhood dream. But is he really the arrogant prick the media says he is? Gerard doesn't really like the way his life turned out to be. He wanted to be an artist, but his career failed miserably and now he has to work at his mothers cleaning company every now and then to survive. But after his mother got in an accident and is now unable to continue her work outside of the office, it's on Gerard to make up for that. Luckily there is only one client she cleans for herself. Unfortunately, that client is Frank Iero. *Warnings*: smut, swearing, humiliation, triggers (like mentions of suicide, self-harm and mental illness in general)

It's the lake in November, and the move closer to the ocean, and Gerard's fixation, and Gerard's compulsions like tidal waves dragging him down, and Mikey's more distant than ever: like they're drifting out into the middle of the ocean, whereas Gerard's just stuck there: water turning to quicksand around him, drowning. And it's the letter; Frank finds it on the floor of the boys' bathroom on the first floor. It's dropped in accident, perhaps from a pocket or something, and it's drenched in what Frank hopes is tap water, and the words: scrawled in blue ink are difficult to make out as the words join together in a fuzzy inky mess. The only paragraph legible is the final one, and even still, it barely is: 'I've been underwater for a long time now, but I'm not drowning, I'm beginning to think I can breathe like this, but I can't, I'm gasping for breath, and I have to do this, Mikey, I have to end this myself. I'm going to the lake on the 1st of November, don't wait for me... I'm not coming back.' And the name signed at the bottom is little more than a smudged mess of blue ink, and there's nothing Frank can do about it, but he knows for certain that the one thing he can't do is ignore this letter, and he reminds himself of that as he folds it into his pocket. It's a suicide note, Frank's stupid, but not stupid enough to brush over that fact, and whoever this person is, Frank knows that they most certainly don't deserve to die. And Frank isn't going to let them. Because he's going to find this person; he's got time now at least, and he can save them, he will save them - Frank promises himself that. But one person in a whole school, it's like a needle in a haystack, but he's got time, it's November 1st in thirty days, and he can only hope that it will be enough. He's got one month: the date is October 1st.

“Love is a psychological and physiological phenomenon, made of synapses and hormones, endorphins and dopamine receptors, pheromones, experiences, commonalities, mutual attraction. Not the muscle of the heart. Inexact metaphor. Designed for poetry, not accuracy.” First person, present tense story told from Sherlock's point of view. Written in early 2011, prior to series 2.

La nieve caía tras su partida en esa noche de narices frías. ×Drabble. ×Fluff.

"¿y cuál es tu teoría sobre mí, profesor tomlinson?" "pienso que eres creído y egocéntrico, pero también creo que eres lindo, carismático y que me romperás el corazón."