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Lost Weekend (chapter 1)

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Frank Iero x (fem) reader

(WRITTEN BETWEEN FLASHBACKS AND 2007)

You're a famous singer that just began to gain mainstream success. Your ex who plays guitar in a famous band who is begging to hit a new high. After reconnecting with him at your mutual friend's wedding, you began to meet him in secret during the summer of 2007 while reminiscing on the times when you first fell in love.

tags: sfw, (eventual nsfw), enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, musician reader, written through flashbacks, stablished relationship.

warnings: none

words: 3.2k

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AN: This is an idea I've had in my and I have been meaning to actually write it down because of the lack of Frank x Reader fics in AO3. Every flashback is going to be like a one shot that complements the story. I haven't written anything in forever and English isn't my first language so I'm sorry if I make any mistakes. I do hope someone finds enjoyment in this :)

Chapter 1: Cigarette Smoke

March 15 2007

“You may now kiss the bride” said the priest at your friend Ray’s wedding. Everyone was cheering for the happy couple, his groomsmen, who happened to be his bandmates, were clapping in tears from the beautiful scene.

You were part of the crowd, sitting in front of them with a fainted smile and a small tear of joy, clapping as loud as everyone else. You were happy to come, you almost didn’t. It had been six months since you last had spoken to any member of the band, and it had passed almost a year since you denied Frank Iero’s hand in marriage. To think of the awkward encounter that was bound to happen between the two of you and your gut feeling telling you “everyone in that band hates you now” made your hands shiver and aware of your breathing pattern. You threw up that same morning out of pure anxiety. After the scene, you smoked two cigarettes by your window, to calm your nerves, you were already wearing your dress without any makeup on. You were looking at the clouds waiting for a sign, Just don’t go and buy an expensive gift you thought. You lived in Manhattan and could see New Jersey from your apartment. You had just moved in and it still didn't feel like a home, which didn't mean much to you right now. It was a beautiful sunny spring day that clashed with your humor. As you finished one last drag of smoke, your phone vibrated. It was a message from Gerard that only said “hop 2 c u later :)”. The text made you smile, more than Frank, you missed your friends. Although it was a simple gesture, it was enough to drag you out of the home and drive an hour and a half to the venue.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the newlyweds as they walked outside the venue. Looking at Ray, how happy he was, made you forget about the man standing in front of you. As Ray fade from your view, melancholy began to take over your body as you saw him cheer on his friend. He was wearing the same suit you got him for the Grammy’s back in 2005. The same suit he wore while he kissed you on live TV after Dave Grohl announced your band, Tidal, had one best rock song. He kept the same star you once pinned on the jacket, same spot and all. Either he never washed it after that night or placed it that same spot himself. His hands revealed new tattoos, which only led you to wonder what new surprises lay under that suit. Your eyes jumped into the bare side of his neck, a place where he would ask you to leave a hickey before he went on stage. It was white, no sign left of you. Lost in thought he locked eyes with you, the same eyes that you have always loved. What was left of your smile disappeared in an instance, you closed your eyes and looked away. You stared at the door until Ray had fully left the venue. All you could do is sight out of shame.

Frank kept his eyes on you, he didn't know if it was lust or sadness taking over him. He looked at your hair, unusually long and shiny. You began wearing your natural hair color, something Frank never got to see while you were dating, he only saw the roots around the time you broke up with him. You wore a lilac sleeveless dress that showed your upper back, nothing too revealing. It was strange seeing you in anything that wasn’t black or red at a formal event. He knew you mostly wore those colors to follow your past album’s aesthetic, but lilac was a strange change. When you moved your hair to the front, he saw part of your shoulder tattoo that had begun to fade. Frank convinced you to get it after visiting your family on Christmas. It was the lyrics to a Jeff Buckley song you used to sing in karaoke to signal that the party was over. Frank could never listen to it without thinking of your voice and his skin next to yours. So much has changed for both of you in a year. He was struck by the passing of time, how the woman that saw him grow into the musician he is today is sitting in front of him today, how she cannot lock eyes with him. How she actually looked like a celebrity and not just the girl from Queens that would write poems at 3 am. He didn't recognize you and hated that.

“We have to go, it's picture time” Gerard told Frank. He nodded and walked outside. You remained in your seat, now looking at your phone, you were texting your bandmates to see if any of them had come to the wedding, which you doubted as your tour started tomorrow in Chicago, but you had hopes someone would stay behind with you. For that same reason, you weren’t planning on staying for the party, you just wanted to congratulate Ray, say hi to the Way brothers and leave, Irish goodbye. You closed your phone when you realized you wouldn't get an answer and headed outside. Ray was taking photos with his family while his groomsmen waited for their turn. You leaned on the wall while lighting up another cigarette. You didn’t know anyone at the party other than the band. You were surprised to see Gerard with jet-black hair again and Mickey without his glasses, they were laughing with Frank until the photographer called them. As they posed, memories of the last time you all hung together came rushing back in chunks. It was in England, your first time headlining a festival. My Chemical Romance was playing before your band but you were crying after seeing Frank kissing a woman, Natalie Mayer, the girl of Frank's dreams or whatever he would say back when you first met. All you saw was her slim body and her blue hair, but the scene made you spiral. Gerard was avoiding your questions about her and Ray brought you a lukewarm beer before going on stage. Everything after that was a blur. You didn't understand why you care so much, you had ended the relationship after all.

You heard Mickey call your name after the photos were taken, he ran into your arms with Gerard following behind “God you smell like an ashtray. Where’s the rest of the band”

“Oh, right now, probably around Michigan” you said in a playful tone while he pulled you out of the hug “we actually have a show tomorrow in Chicago”

“Oh shit, I didn't know that. I’m glad I can get to see you before we loose you to the music” Mickey laughed and pulled a cigarette, he wanted to smoke with u “we miss you guys every day” you made a frown and light his smoke “I miss you guys more”

Gerard watched the scene while thinking on what to say. The last time he saw you was outside a party celebrating the release of The Black Parade. You weren’t planning on going, but Gerard insisted after you called him that night. You showed up wearing sweats and a Black Flag shirt, Frank’s old shirt. You were drunk and had called Gerard out of panic after your guitarist Eli didn’t answer the phone. You stood outside the bar with your makeup undone, unable to enter the building. Ever since then, he was worried about your wellbeing, he didn’t understand how a breakup could mess someone up the way you were that night. He never reached out though, he was too scared to say the wrong thing. Today however, he was happy to see you looked okay. You were smoking a lot, but you looked sober. He wanted to make sure you were fine “Congrats on Casually Cruel by the way” He said.

That was your third album, your newest release. You began writing IT the night you realized you had feelings for Frank. It was supposed to be the band’s happy album, the last one had been thematically darker after you explored your newfound fame and the death of your mother. This new album, you wanted to capture the happiest time of your life, with new friends and a man who loved you and your music, but it slowly became a documentation on your breakup with Frank. You made last minute changes by taking some love songs out of the record and adding other tracks that talked about your insecurities in the relationships, like the final track that detailed your drive from Jersey to Manhattan after the breakup titled “water in your hand”. Despite the album being so mellow, you left the song “Patterson” in the record, a great love ballad you wrote for Frank and the first song on the record. Your record label felt it was a hit, and they were right. It currently sat at number nine in the charts, your biggest hit in your career, it had slowly climbed to the top ten since November, when you released the album. It was inescapable at that time and Frank was sick of it. “Thank you, congrats to you guys too, only Hannah Montana is above you now” you all laughed.

Ray and his wife came over with you. After a quick chat you were gonna excuse yourself, but Ray convinced you to stay for a while, you were taking a plane at 3am anyway and your bag was ready to go. During the party you stayed around Gerard most of the time, you didn’t sit at his table but he hung out with you on a balcony while enjoying free drinks. You had forgotten about Frank for a while. The music stopped as Ray and his wife got around the dance floor, their first dance was about to begin. Gerard went back to the party while you stayed outside. Something by The Beatles was the song the chose, cliche, but you always thought it would be the song you walked down the aisle at your own wedding.

The scene felt strange, the weight of time began to swallow you while Mikey and Gerard stood with the crowd. You still didn’t understand why you ghosted them for so long, how you let things get so bad between you and Frank after the breakup, one that made even less sense to you now. It felt like the perfect time to leave, but all you did was stand and watch through a glass door. You put another cigarette in your mouth. While looking for your lighter, a spark from a black zippo lit it up for you. Tattoos and black nail polish adorned the owner’s hand “Frank”.

There he was in front of you, lighting your cigarette. A habit he got you in back in 2003. It all felt too familiar yet distant. He looked thinner and more secure of himself, his hair was longer than his usual fringe, yet he was using the same zippo you once gifted him on your five month anniversary. Everything came flooding back, from late night talks on tour to the after sex smokes you would share at home. You kept staring into his eyes for a while until you finally lit your smoke.

“It's rude to ignore people, you know” he said while lighting a cigarette for himself.

“Look who’s talking” you murmured under your breath, no longer looking at him.

Both of you stood next to each other, with Frank leaning on the balcony’s railing and you standing still, your left arm holding your waist and your right arm holding your smoke. Standing next to him sickened you, two strangers yet you know what brand of cigarettes he is smoking right now by the smell alone, Marlboro Golds, they’re light and leave the least smell in your clothes, but if you stand close enough, the smell kicks in, it melts with his cologne. It was the same brand he smoked when he first started making a profit from music, it’s the smell of your best dates and nights. The memories creeped in and so did the coldness of night.

“I thought you wouldn’t come” Frank broke the silence.

“Why? Because I hate you so much?” you responded, finally looking at him, he was staring at the faded sunset behind you.

“Because I saw your tour dates” he said while taking a drag of his smoke, locking eyes with you

You were never good at hiding your emotions, your body shifted as you gave all your attention to his face, a crumbled mouth and furrowed brows that melted into you. His answer struck what was left of your confidence, you didn’t know how to answer. Either he cared for you or was watching too much TV. It didn’t matter as he at least noticed things. His eyes looked greener than you remembered, except that his tender look shifted into ones of indifference as soon as he met with your eyes. You wanted to understand what was going on in his head and maybe see why he suddenly cared so much to talk to you, something he hadn’t done for a year, but you chose your peace and watched Ray, his smile and his wife’s dress helped you calm yourself down. Frank could read you like a book. Your grin showed frustration and sadness, but you brushed it up by taking a deep breath, something you did that face when you wanted to cry, but didn’t feel safe enough to do so. Usually after you scrunch your mouth, you would hide in his chest and cry for three minutes exactly, he would hug you and draw circles in your back until you made a joke, but not today. For all he knew, you now saw him as a stranger. All he did was take the hit and watch Ray as well.

“What are you doing?” you spoke while gathering your thoughts.

“I’m just being polite unlike other girls” that was supposed to be a joke, you didn’t laugh, you rolled your eyes and looked back at him “Don’t you have a date to bother? Aren’t you dating Natalie anyway or whatever her name was?”

He stayed in silence, thinking if he should speak or leave you alone but you kept looking at him with hope, or something like that: “No” he put out his cigarette and flicked it out, your eyes opened wide “Not right now”.

You opened your eyes in shock, you didn’t expect that after what happened in England. “You’re fucking with me”

“Why would I?” he said right after you finished speaking.

Once again, he left you without a word in mind. When you asked for Natalie, you weren’t hoping for this, you wanted to feel the heartbreak one more time to prove it was gone. The thought of kissing him left you static and forcing you to live through it all again, yet you didn’t. Your cigarette disappeared and you tried to flee the scene, but Frank grabbed your arm, his grip wasn’t strong, but you didn’t fight it. The song had finished and the crowd inside cheered. His hand felt softer than you remembered, and his eyes gave hints of caring once again: “Please. I'm sorry. Let's start over. Please”.

You pushed his arm away with indifference and signaled him to follow you to the bar. You asked for a drink for Frank and yourself, his favorite one. He noticed the gesture but was hesitant to take a sip. He didn’t drink that whole night out of fear of saying too much, you on the other hand had drunk four drinks with this one and you were starting to feel the buzz. All you did was small talk about work. He asked you about how it felt to be the most successful singer in the world to which you said “God no, we’re one hit wonders if anything” a comment that eased the tension between the two of you. Frank was fixated on your smile, how your lipstick stood in place despite the drinking, how you still hadn’t fixed a crooked tooth and how your laugh came out deeper, probably from all of the smoking. All night he had been tense, thinking about what he was going to tell you. The familiarity made him drop his tough guy act. You broke his trance as you asked if he would have his drink, he gave it to you unknowingly of the courage you gained:

“Did it hurt when I left?” you spit out after finishing the drink in two sips. It was the question you were eager to asked but never dared to. That night in London destroyed the memories you shared with him. You knew he’d move on with Natalie soon, but not two months soon. It shattered whatever feeling you had for him left and created a void that made you feel out of your body. “Did my absence mean anything to you?”

Frank chuckled at your comments, which didn’t amuse you at all. He never understood why you broke up with him so suddenly, he was dumped while standing on one knee in front of the woman he loved. He smiled and looked into your eyes “I never felt your absence. How can I when I hear your voice everywhere I go? Every radio station plays your song, every restaurant, every venue, God, even outside my building a girl plays it on guitar and sings every day about how you feel me when I’m gone and how I hold your face like water. On New Years day I had to see you sing it in fucking Times Square and I had to pretend it meant nothing to me, because maybe it didn’t, but that day it felt as if the world was falling on my shoulders and I had to remember every single mistake I’ve made. And you know at day I hate you so much for writing that Goddamn song and for having your stupid voice and how I can hear a slip of a Jersey accent in it” There was desperation in his voice, but no hesitation in his body. It was like looking through a mirror, showing the opposite of who you were. You stood in shame listening to the answer you wanted to hear with a smile on your face. “... but at night I see us both living together in Jersey as you promised that day, and I see you in my bed with your stupid black bra playing guitar and I miss you. That’s why I broke up with Natalie”

He remained calmed after his confession and your smile got bigger: “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between the two” You said getting closer to his face, but Franks poker face broke by your indifference, punching the bar’s counter out of spite yet nobody cared for the scene he started as the music kept getting louder: “Is that all you say after I opened my heart to your stupid question? What about you, dumbass, did you ever care? Or is it all an act for your lame songs? Gerard is worried about your drinking and he is always nagging me about my mistreatment to you, but you’re out there singing our songs like it’s nothing”

You began to sober up after his comment, your eyes got watery but not a single tear came out. With a soft tone, you answered his questions: I care, oh I care. I haven’t kissed anyone else's lips since I left, and I don’t know why I care for you anyways. I didn’t what to put out Patterson, but the label insisted, you know, and now every night for the rest of the year I need to get on stage and sing the number one song in the world without a single passion or else I would break in front of everyone, you know. And sometime I wonder if I sing it in hopes you’d listen and come fight for me, or to make your life as miserable as possible, and I can’t name a selfless reason to hate you”

Frank grabbed your shivering body in a hug, you melted right back and began to cry. When he felt your tears through his shirt, he pulled you out and grabbed your face tenderly, he held you like water as if you were going to escape from him, trying to stop time just for a second.

“I have to go home” you mention.

“Let me drive you back, you’re really drunk”

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