Frank hadn't planned on showing up at all. He had spent the rest of the night and the next morning telling himself to "not fucking come back", but somehow the universe decides to fuck us all up, and somehow, Frank finds himself standing at the very same corner the scary punks from last night stood by.

Cursing at himself and this cruel turn his life has suddenly taken, he pulled his black beanie over his ears, covering all of his pastel pink hair. It looked like he had cancer when he wore his beanie like that. Many people think that's rude to say, but it doesn't make it any less true. Sue me.

Frank wished with all his power and might, that that Gerard dude from last night did not show up too, and a part of Frank told him that he wouldn't, because shit like this didn't happen in real life. But no matter how much he prayed, he noticed the shabby, black mess luring its way closer to the corner. Frank was actually kind of relieved, deep inside, he had always feared rejection, but there was no way he was ever going to admit that.

"Dude, you totally came!" The emo-punk mess that smelled a little too much like grime and smoke slung an arm over little Frank's shoulders, pulling him into him.

Frank made a face, "Yeah I totally did" he muttered under his breath, trying really hard to stop his mind from making a sexual innuendo right then and there. Fuck his life, seriously.

As Gerard pulled his new friend (Frank did not consent to his label, by the way), and as they made their way out of the alley, he opened his big mouth, "Okay, so, I have taken this on to me as my mission to convert you, Frank. I call it Project How To: Convert Frank- wait, what's your last name?"

"Iero." Frank sighs.

"How To: Convert Frank Iero into a real punk! Like, you're so gay you put even myself to shame, and that says a lot. You're such a stereotypical gay boy it's almost embarrassing,"

Gerard was doing an extraordinary job at making Frank feel shitty about himself, but whatever, it's not like people who like One Direction and Five Seconds Of Summer has feelings right? But Gerard's gaydar was on point though, you can't deny that.

"Now, before we go into the depths of this, we need to work on the easiest part; the visual. If you look the part, it'll be easier to act the part, or be the part. Starting with this," Gerard grabbed Frank's beanie, "It looks like you're bald, and that's so not cool, because you're not a middle-aged man -that's what all the google images results show, by the way, trust me I know."

When Gerard pulled off Frank's beanie, he gasped, then just sighed hopelessly, almost disappointed, "This has got to be a joke, right?"

But Frank just shook his head.

"Okay, we gotta go home to me and dye your hair black as my soul, right now, because I can't even look at you. I don't even think I can walk next to you in public without wanting to go die in a hole."

Frank huffed, "I spent all morning on this, do you have idea how long it takes to bleach and dye dark brown hair, not forgetting expensive?" This was probably the most Gerard had ever heard Frank say in one go, but he was kind of pissed right now so you can't really blame him.

"Yeah, okay whatever." Gerard didn't even listen to what the fuck Frank was saying, he just let him go and threw the younger's beanie in a trashcan they walked past, without the latter noticing of course.

"Hola to moi casa de fabulousa" Gerard shot out his arm, presenting his house and Frank decided to not even mention the lack of linguistic skills Gerard owned. Or... Didn't own...

Gerard's home was a tiny, tiny bungalow in dark red and dark green. It looked cheap and the weed was almost at the same height as Frank was. Not the "smoke weed everyday and get high #420 I love snoop dogg" kind of weed, the kind actual kind of weed. It annoyed Frank to no end that they were both called the same thing. Let's just say that there has been some misunderstandings. Yeah let's keep it at that.

As they made their way up to the entrance door, Frank really wished he had stayed at home playing Mario Kart by himself like he does every Sunday afternoon. By the way, Luigi rocks.

Frank just stood awkwardly in the entrance of the house, feeling extremely uncomfortable and unwelcome as Gerard made his way deeper inside of the mess he called his home, or more specific, "moi casa de fabulousa".

"Okay, so, I have some left-over dye somewhere in this mess. Or maybe it's the other mess... Whatever- hey, dude, where did you go?" Gerard's head popped out of one of the very few doors in the hallway, "What the hell are you standing all over there for? Get you ass over here."

When Frank finally walked over to the room Gerard disappeared inside, he recognized it as the kitchen, but only barely. There were dirty dishes littering the counter, some on the eating table, and even some on the floor. It was dirty and smelled like dirt and weed, and this time, the "blaze it" type, not the other. Not that Frank was very known with the smell of weed, but he could guess. It seemed like the only thing working in the kitchen was the beatdown coffee maker placed on the counter besides the refrigerator . Gerard had also made sure to clear a little around the coffeemaker so that there wouldn't be any obstacles as he made his drink.

Gerard was rummaging through the shelves and kitchen cabinets, but after a few moments he let out a frustrated sigh, "I can't fucking find it, I know that it's here somewhere..." He stalked over to Frank who stood in front of the dishwasher, and pushed him away.

Frank jumped and Gerard threw open the not surprisingly almost empty dishwasher, and pulled out one of the drawers.

"Bingo!" He picked up a small plastic can out of the dishwasher drawer and held it up triumphantly.

"The dishwasher?" Frank deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at Gerard.

Gerard just rolled his eyes and began walking out of the crime scene known as his kitchen, "Fuck off, I was drunk."

The bathroom was a lot tidier than the kitchen, and Frank asked why.

"Because when I have friends over all they use is my bathroom and my living room, and they mess up my living room, but they hate dirty bathrooms I guess, so whenever they use the bathroom they do something to clean it up just a little bit. Especially Ray."

Frank tried to remember who Ray was as Gerard found the stuff he needed to dye hair.

"The broccoli hair?"

Gerard bursted out laughing and Frank wondered if he had totally missed on his guess.

"Yeah, yeah that one," Gerard turned around and smiled at him, "I'll remember that and use it later, credit to you, seriously."

Frank wasn't ready to say goodbye to his new hair, he liked it a lot, but he feared that if he denied, Gerard would send his gang after Frank to kill him or something. He also had problems with saying no. For some reason he could never say no.

When he slapped on some rubber gloves, Gerard turned to Frank with a serious face, "Let the surgery begin..."

Soon enough, Frank's head was a mess of black dye foam -not that dye is supposed to foam, Gerard was just a master of fucking things up- and even though he had to admit that he could already tell it was going to look good on him, he still felt this ache in his stomach. Maybe he could re-dye it back afterwards, but he wanted pink hair, not going bald. It should probably rest for a little bit.

"You look like Dr. Frank N. Furter right now." Frank giggled. Gerard was wearing these pink rubber gloves and a scrub-looking jacket thing to avoid getting hair-dye stains on his already stained t-shirt.

"You like Rocky Horror?" Gerard seemes surprised, he stopped massaging Frank's head to look at him in the eyes in the mirror.

Frank just shrugged, "Yeah so?" He was kind of offended.

"No, nothing, you just... You don't look like the kind of person who would enjoy watching that type of stuff. You look like you watch fucking Mean Girls or Pitch Perfect every Saturday night." He went back to lathering Frank's hair in dye, not really doing it properly, just throwing it all on at once and hoping he gets every spot.

"Maybe I do, so what?" Frank smirked as he looked back at Gerard in the mirror, but he was too busy on the dye to meet his gaze, "Don't you?"

Gerard stopped up, frozen, as if he was caught with his pants down, "No of course not, why would I?" But Frank could tell by the blush on his cheeks and Gerard's frantic eyes that that wasn't really the truth.

It was quiet again until it it was time to rinse the hair.

"Mkay, wanna do this the hard way or the even harder way?" Gerard pulled off his gloves to look at his work.

"Well, I just want it out of my hair, how 'bout that?" The younger of the two studied himself in the mirror.

"I suggest you go into the shower and do it yourself. I've touched your hair enough for a lifetime."

When Frank had checked the door three times to make sure it was locked, he began to strip, turned on the shower -waited for it to get warm, of course- and stepped in.

It was amusing looking down on the cold, white tiled floor and watching it mix with the black dye. But he had to look up again after a few seconds because dye was about to drip down his face, and ain't nobody want that in their eyes, let us be real.

Frank thought it was strange showering in somebody he didn't know that well's house. It made him realize that he didn't know this person at all. They literally met yesterday. In a dark alley. In the middle of the night. Yet again Frank smacked his own head because of his idiocy. Gerard could be a murderer, or even worse: a prostitute.

When he finished, got dressed and did his best to dry his hair with a towel he found under the sink because he was too humble to use Gerard's hairdryer, he stepped out of the bathroom.

He heard some sounds, no doubt coming from a television, which led Frank to the living room. He just stood there awkwardly, staring at the owner of the living room's greasy bird nest hair.

"Um..."

Gerard turned around, but halted when he saw Frank, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" He got up in a hurry and scurried over to the "new Frank", "Man, you look so fucking good, what the hell! Have you seen yourself?"

Frank had to admit that he hadn't, he had been too scared.

"Okay, wait a second, I'll go find a mirror."

But he never got that far, because that's the moment the front door opened, and Gerard froze yet again, muttering "shit. shit, shit, shit." under his breath.

"Who is it?" Frank said, not speaking in a normal volume, but not really whispering either.

Gerard didn't get to answer as the person who had opened the door decided to open its mouth too, "Gerard?Gerard?"

There was a few seconds of silence, Gerard pondering what to do right now, before he replied shakily, "y-yeah?"

There was a few more noises, and Frank's heartbeat started racing. Why was Gerard panicking, who was this person, and is this person someone Frank should fear?

There was a soft laughter coming from the front door, and the sound of stuff being put down and clothes being taken off.

"Good, I thought you'd left the house unlocked again. Wanna play Ratchet and Clank and watch Freaky Friday for the rest of the day?"

a/n

whoo mystery person !!! even though y'all can probably already guess who it is..

This chapter was originally called "Only people who listen to emo music are allowed to be sad and have problems" and then I changed it to "Only people who listen to emo music are allowed to be sad and have problems and stuff" but wattpad said that was too long. Bitch im da fuggin fall out boy of wattpad, sue me wattpad, sue me.

nothing is really happening yet, hoping i'll be able to change that soon :-/

only half-way proof-read.

peace love suck a dick, zoo