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An actress stood on the stage, lights cast upon her frilly brown dress and braided blonde hair, contained with copious amounts of hairspray and bobby pins. She raised her arms, reaching for nothing but an emotional impact on her audience, while singing: 

“I want a good man,

And I want him bad

If you crave endearing charms,

I can fill your empty arms.”

Her eyebrows met with pure emotion as she belted the lyrics to a popular Jazz piece by Annette Hanshaw. I Want a Good Man . Which she did; you’ll find out how dangerous that is soon enough. But she had to sing it for the play, being the lead role and all. It was a romantic comedy called Très Charmant , which translated to very charming in French. The director suggested it be a good piece for her. 

She wore mascara and eyeliner, professionally applied before the curtains opened. Her lips, a sexy red, similar to the painted blush on her cheeks. But it was hot under the spotlight, and in the knowledge of many sets of eyes in the crowd, she really was blushing. Anything for the male gaze , her director instructed. That typically meant cute, helpless, dumb, with a touch of mystery. 

It was an inside joke, the whole male gaze thing. Why? Because this actress, singing and acting for hundreds, was a man. And his name was Gerard Way. 

Many thought he made a sexy woman, in a full face of makeup, a dress and a wig. He was too used to his own face to see it, though. Actually, he made a damn hot woman, according to the reviews. Again, funny. Men left those reviews. But Gerard was an actor, acting was his profession, and this role happened to be female. 

This kind of thing happened more than you might think. In this day and age, women weren’t much welcome in plays, so men took on their roles. Sometimes it was a comedic jab at traditional gender roles, and other times it was done seriously, like now. And theatre crews weren’t good to women. Birds on the crew left room for sexual harassment claims against powerful entertainers. Not for Gerard, though, because he was gay. But nobody knew about that. Seriously? The roaring of the ‘20s had to stop somewhere . 

Let me take you back to the story now. With precision and focus, Gerard sang with creative precision to an audience hidden in the shadows. His singing voice needed no feminine adjustments, as his vocal range was naturally higher. As was his speaking voice, but you haven’t heard him speak yet. For now, he’s just a character in a story, an actor on a stage. You can’t make valid judgments about him. Not now. 

With precise artistic flow, the play proceeded, making any creative gush with appreciation, even just expressed with a positive review or a slightly louder round of applause. It was all under control, with Gerard in the lead, so let me draw your attention to the audience. A man sat in one of the velvet chairs, wearing an ironed tuxedo and an expression of captivation, his brown hair neatly combed. A typical Saturday night for him, like many in Chicago. Often, he found himself in this theatre. What else was a single, lonely, rich man supposed to do? 

Frank thought the play finished quickly. Frank Iero was his name, by the way. I probably should’ve mentioned that earlier…Anyway, Frank was a passionate soul, completely engulfed in life’s creative indulgences. Even though he couldn’t create a beautiful oil painting or compose a lovely Jazz song, he wished he could. That’s why he consumed art; it felt like he was involved. Although business was Frank’s strong suit, he spent much of his time at bars, cinemas, concerts and art festivals. 

As the theatre lights came on, guests filed out through the doors, all wearing fancy dress. Mostly couples in love. That didn’t bother Frank much like it used to. But what did annoy him was people standing in walkways. Instead of giving them a piece of his mind, he walked past. Anger wasn’t a trap he fell into much anymore. One would say he had become peaceful. 

But even peaceful people needed to use the restroom. And when Frank located the bathrooms, he stepped inside and found a stall to relieve himself. A weird way to start a story, but this is a weird story, like many of my experiences. And this moment is significant. You’ll find out why now. Because once Frank left the stall to wash his hands, he saw the actress. She stood in front of the mirror, cigarette in one hand and makeup remover in the other, hunching over the sink, starting to wipe off foundation. She turned and made awkward eye contact with Frank. 

“Darling, this is the men’s restroom.” Frank pointed to the male symbol on the wall and smiled at her. 

Never had Gerard fooled anyone in drag off-stage. Maybe the spotlight had special gender affirming qualities, but now, in the dull lighting of the bathroom, he had a stranger deceived. It brought a dangerous rush of excitement and a smile he couldn’t control. “I suppose you’re right, dear.” 

Now that you’ve heard him speak, do you think he sounds like a lady? 

“You are from the play,” Frank pointed out, now standing closer and leaning against the wall. “What a voice you have, indeed. A splendid play and a marvellous role. Illi McMillin, if I recall correctly?” 

Illi McMillin was his stage name. You’d probably assumed that no one but the crew knew him as Gerard Way . Actually, his real name was nowhere to be found, except used by those he knew personally. “Thank you, darling. And yes, that is my name.”

Frank leaned closer, a certain attentiveness on his face that made Gerard feel like the most important person in the world. “How long have you been in the theatre, Illi?”

“Six years.” Gerard smiled and nodded, unsure of how long he could pull off the feminine act. For some reason, real conversations as a woman felt more nerve-wracking than acting and singing for the eyes and ears of hundreds. Nonetheless, he searched for a gap in conversation to reveal he was actually in the correct bathroom. 

“Amazing, darling. Spectacular. I’m Frank Iero. I suppose you’ve heard of me?” He extended his hand, which Gerard grasped, accompanied by a confused expression. “I own a chain of Italian restaurants here in the windy city . Iero’s Pizzeria?” 

Gerard gave an oh! with feminine excitement taught to many young women. It came naturally to his unfiltered self, though. “Lovely food and atmosphere. I’ve been with my brother a few times.” 

“I’d love to take you sometimes. Free of charge, of course. I know the owner.” Frank chuckled, a deep sound of charm, which definitely worked on the actor. “When are you free, darling?” 

Gerard’s eyes widened, only expecting the invitation to be an empty social standard, a kind gesture not meant to be taken literally. He stalled momentarily. “I’m free tonight.” Crap, probably not the best thing to say, but the heels were killing him, and he wasn’t thinking straight. 

“Me too, love. I’ll drive us there now.” Frank combed his hair in the mirror and gestured to the bathroom exit. 

Before Gerard could make up an excuse, Frank had left, expecting Illi McMillin to follow. Fear of being discovered and stranger danger impaired his reasoning. What if Frank was a serial killer? 

But Gerard followed anyway. Lucky he did, otherwise there’d be no story, just sleepless nights wondering what if? 

The actor had never left the theatre dolled up, and his director would probably question it. But all of that seemed unimportant now. The gentleman stood by a parked Rolls-Royce; that’s when Gerard’s priorities suddenly shifted. Frank had money . Listen…Gerard wasn’t a gold digger, but he liked luxury as much as anyone else. Especially since money was scarce for him. And now with fresh motives, temporarily clouded by a thrill of danger and exploration of the unknown, Gerard stepped into the passenger seat, making sure to sit like a lady . 

Frank broke the silence while driving down the main road. “Illi?” 

“Yes?” the fraud responded, still getting used to his stage name outside of the theatre. 

“Your name. Is it short for something? I’ve never heard of it before.” 

“No, it’s just Illi. Sometimes people call me Lily. It’s similar.” 

Frank spoke with sophisticated calmness, like the peaceful man he was. “Interesting. A lovely name, indeed. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” 

Gerard thanked him, his voice equally as hushed. Probably not the best time to make the big reveal. Throughout the car ride, he thought of how to reveal he wasn’t a beautiful woman , but an awkward, fidgety, lower-class actor trying to make ends meet. Frank’s stolen glances at his passenger made things harder. Due to his sexuality, Gerard had trouble dating. He could only rely on hunches about other men, if they ‘swung that way’ and sometimes they’d be wrong. And sometimes Gerard walked away with a black eye and a broken heart. 

Maybe Illi McMillin could solve Gerard’s dating troubles. 

The pizza parlour glowed with lights and a lively crowd of customers waiting to be seated. Frank left the car to open the passenger door for his date. Gerard almost cried at the kind gesture, even though it was the bare minimum. Frank had charm anyway, shown as he chatted with waiters and customers, on his way to a free table. “I want you to get whatever you like. I’ll pay.” 

Gerard glanced through the menu, the food varieties, and the high prices. “But it’s expensive.”

“Oh, darling, don’t insult me. Get whatever your little heart desires. It’s not every day I get to dine with a beautiful actress.” Frank’s hand extended, tucking a strand of Gerard’s hair behind his ear, to which he awkwardly pulled back. “Sorry. Coming on too strong?” 

Gerard smiled reassuringly. “No, it’s alright.” Actually, he was worried his wig would become obvious if Frank touched it. 

The evening went surprisingly smoothly. The strangers shared laughter, drinks, and expensive Italian cuisine. Occasionally, Gerard would slip off to the restroom to take off his heels and roll his ankles for relief. Hats off to actual women for pulling it off so gracefully. He’d also reapply makeup and make kissy faces in the mirror to build confidence. And he didn’t get weird looks from other women, some of them even complimenting him. Maybe he was the only one who looked in the mirror and saw a man. 

Frank, on the other hand, was comfortable as ever. He had a beautiful date, a night of easygoing laughter and romantic giddiness bubbling in his stomach. 

After an hour or two, Frank called a cab for Illi. He figured it to be more respectful than driving her home. A smile lit up his face as he looked down at his date in the backseat. “I had a lovely time. Don’t forget to call me.” Frank gestured to his number, on a piece of paper nestled in Gerard’s fist. “Goodnight, darling.” 

That’s another thing. Gerard had Frank’s number now. It happened sometime between their first glass of wine and their flirting towards the end of the date. 

The taxi ride was peaceful until he arrived at his small apartment, walking in through the door to kick off his heels. Gerard mentioned his brother earlier in the story, but that didn’t do him justice. They were roommates. Close. Best friends even.

“Hey,” his brother greeted, voice travelling from his bedroom. His name was Michael, but he preferred Mikey. 

Gerard trudged to the bathroom to remove his makeup and wig. He didn’t want Mikey to know he’d gone out in public, beautified, away from the theatre. Mikey always worried about his safety. Bless him. 

He appeared in the doorway before Gerard could close the door, wearing a frown. “Why are you still in drag? Late night rehearsing?” 

Gerard removed the blonde wig with some struggling, hunching over the sink. “I…took a detour,” he put simply, splashing warm water on his face and then applying a cleansing cream. 

Mikey’s confusion and alarm told Gerard all he needed to know. So he recounted his evening, mentioning the handsome and charming stranger, and how he may have gone on a date as a woman . 

Of course, Mikey freaked out and gave him a considerable chunk of his opinion, tinged with worry. 

He knew this would happen. All his life, Gerard tried cherry picking dates, with most of them ending violently. Either he was terrible at recognising other gay men, or he was the only one. Despite everyone telling him to settle down with a woman, he couldn’t see himself being happy that way. Many even suggested he become a woman to make things easier. In a way, he was. But Gerard was an actor, acting was his profession. 

“How much money did you blow?” Mikey asked nervously. 

“None. He paid.” Gerard had removed the majority of his makeup and now tackled the eyeliner. But he still wore his elegant brown dress, so he looked like a manly woman. “And before you ask, he didn’t try anything. He’s sweet and kind and charming but…” He snuck a glance at Mikey, trying to read his thoughts. “He…he thinks I’m a woman.”

“And when he finds out you’re not? What, then? He’s rich, successful, and well-respected and…Oh, God! He could kill you and get away with it!” Familiar agitation dilated his pupils as his voice lifted with fear. 

“I don’t think so, Mikes. He’s super short…And I planned on telling him, but he kept calling me a beautiful woman I am. I didn’t want to embarrass him. Besides, he should’ve figured it out by now. We met in the men’s restrooms, for Christ’s sake!” He unzipped his dress, groaning in exhaustion. “Thank God, I’m out of this bedsheet. Can you grab my pajamas?” 

“Just be careful,” Mikey muttered, chucking a flannelette shirt and bottoms. “Was it a nice restaurant, though?”

“Iero’s Pizzeria. We went for Aunt Margaret’s wedding dinner, remember?” Mikey’s priorities shifted at the new realisation. They were more similar than they thought. “As I said, he’s loaded,” Gerard clarified with a shrug. 

“Go out with him again,” Mikey decided. “Do you have his phone number?” 

“You hated this guy a moment ago.” Gerard left the bathroom, Mikey following. “So, you want me to be a gold digger?” 

“No…yes…If you can get freebies and connections with rich people, do it. Maybe that’s what we need to get out of this slump. We couldn’t afford Iero’s, so if you can eat there, do it.” Mikey took a long, intentional pause. “It’s up to you. Don’t get used to luxury. It’s harder to lose things you have than to not have something.” 

Gerard caught a glimpse of the mirror. “I don’t look like a woman, though.” 

“Not now, you don’t.” Mikey pointed to Gerard’s face. “And you’ve got some stubble, not lady-like. But in your makeup and dress? I see a woman.” 

The truth was, Gerard was in too deep already, because over the next few days, Frank and Illi shared many phone calls until early morning, listening to each other’s stories. And not to mention the flirting. Of course, Gerard’s stories and conversations were carefully adjusted not to reveal his big secret. And although these phone calls brought them together, the proximity would only make Gerard’s big secret all the more terrifying. 

Now let me take you back to the theatre, where we can find Gerard, dressed in full drag, yet again. Anything else didn’t seem like an option anymore, especially since Frank would meet him tonight to go to a party. Gerard hadn’t attended many parties, despite the stereotypical lavish and wild lifestyle of an actor. Many of the events he attended were dress rehearsals, crappy birthdays and Christmas gatherings, with a dreaded round of Secret Santa barely affordable. The Way brothers would have to cut back on groceries for the week to afford it, and live off canned food like a bunch of animals. 

But today wasn’t Christmas. Nowhere near, actually. April was the month, and pleasantly warm was the weather. Not really important, but I just thought you should know. For the sake of setting. 

Gerard locked eyes with the director, who gave a look of surprise. “Aren’t you changing out of your show clothes?” He was a man of nearly forty, the black pigment of his hair holding on for dear life. Many found him unfriendly and intimidating, but he liked Gerard. 

“I get recognised more this way,” Gerard reasoned, turning to see Frank’s head peek around the corner, to catch a glimpse of the lady in his life . His heart swelled with dangerous affection, a double-edged sword of love. 

A frown consumed the director’s face, which then eased into a smile. “Alright. Whatever tickles your ego. But practice your lines. Don’t mess up the lyrics to your solo again, Gerard.”

Gerard. Crap . He turned to check if Frank had heard anything. There’d be a lot to answer for if he did, and he hadn’t planned for this to happen. Despite stressing about this exact scenario, Gerard failed to find a way around it. Really, it made him very anxious. Almost to the point where he dreaded seeing Frank, the rich man who’d taken an interest in a washed-up theatre kid. 

Then the worst thing ever happened. 

“Hello, darling,” Frank greeted, offering an arm to Gerard. The endearment and romantic gesture had grabbed the attention of the other actors, watching their co-star in drag, going out with a man . Never could he fight the gay allegations after this. 

Bye, Gerard . Have a lovely evening, Gerard. See you tomorrow, Gerard . Hearing his name from his theatre friends felt like a jab to his confidence, but he tried to ignore it, leaving the theatre as quickly as possible. 

“What was all that about?” Frank asked. 

Of course, he had to ask. Just Gerard’s luck, right? He forced a blissful ignorance and smiled. “What? I don’t know. They must have confused me for someone else.”

“But Gerard’s a man’s name,” Frank reasoned, frowning, “You’re not a man, darling…are you?” He laughed light-heartedly, but for a moment, the question knocked the wind out of Gerard. 

“Of course, not!” Gerard exclaimed, playfully smacking his arm. He felt nothing but fleeting, overconsuming guilt. Gerard liked Frank, but Frank liked Illi. It was a fucked up love triangle between two people and three personas. 

“Anyways, you’ll love this party. There’s booze, music, dancers and lots of interesting people.” Frank opened the passenger door for his date. “It’s to celebrate Iero’s Pizzeria. We’ve opened three new restaurants in Chicago and are branching off to Michigan, Iowa and Milwaukee.” 

Once Frank and Gerard were in the car, they took off, heading to this interesting party. Until Frank broke the silence again. 

“These past few days have been absolutely splendid. I’m very glad I met you, Illi.” Frank’s smile lit up his face. He grasped Gerard’s knee, to which he responded with an awkward chuckle, flinching at the contact. He definitely liked it, but worried Frank would feel a man’s body rather than a woman’s. “Really, you mean a lot to me. I love you, Illi. Boy, I do. You make me so happy.” 

Frank and Illi were dating. They had been for a few days. Just one of the things your dear narrator had forgotten to mention, but reasonably important, don’t you agree? I don’t care, bash me on the reviews. I’m not a real author. 

“I love you too, Frank.” That was the issue. He was in love with someone who loved a role he played. Gerard was an actor, acting was his profession. And his play was love. 

At the party, the most popular current Jazz music reverberated throughout the hall, played live by a hired band. Couples danced, and some made out in the blanket of warm lighting and humming conversations. Others kissing filled Gerard with a strange fear. What if Frank tried kissing him tonight? He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling a slight stubble beneath the makeup. A peck on the lips, he could get away with, but making out? Gerard’s secret would be revealed. 

Another detail I think you should know. It had been a few days since Gerard had shaved his legs. He only shaved to the knee, anyway. That’s how long his dress was. But if Frank made out with him, there might be touching above the knee. Maybe the stockings could save him. Maybe not. Suddenly, he wanted the floor to swallow him. He’d gotten too comfortable lying to this sweet, peaceful man. 

They took their seats at a round table, surrounded by Frank’s shareholders, friends and family. The party, now full to the brim with chaos and rising heat, was in full jive. Sometimes, Gerard would take restroom breaks to reapply makeup and practice deep breathing. He did receive some weird looks from other ladies in the women’s bathroom. Not wanting to make anyone uncomfortable, he kept his eyes to himself, and he may have freaked out a little when they made small talk with him. And that anxiety never dwindled throughout the whole party. Many party guests came with dates, which became more important the more alcohol was consumed, and the more romantic the music got. Within a few hours, an innocent business party had turned into a softporn party, couples making out left, right and centre. 

When Gerard met Frank’s eyes, he smiled, to which he reciprocated. The heat rising in the air around them was palpable. Gerard had to redirect his gaze when the eye contact got too hot. 

“You look nice,” Frank complimented, resting a hand on Illi’s knee. 

His voice came out higher than normal. “Thanks!” 

Frank held Gerard’s jaw, watching him with eyes full of love and understanding. Then he kissed him, briefly but passionately. “I’ve been wanting to do that since we met.” 

Gerard discreetly adjusted his wig with a smile. “Me too.” 

“Très charmant, my dear,” Frank murmured, kissing him again. “Do you like my French?” 

“Splendid.” Gerard kissed back hesitantly. Another thing I failed to mention was that Gerard hadn’t kissed anyone before. Pretty embarrassing for a twenty-something-year-old. The most he’d ever done was hand-holding. Until now. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Frank whispered, leaning in dangerously close. And once Gerard nodded, they were heading out of the party. 

Things felt different between them. Frank smiled and drove them down the road. Only a radio could be heard; otherwise, they’d be in tense silence. Gerard would probably explode from fear if that were the case. What did ‘get out of here’ mean? 

Gerard’s brown nail polish and various rings, bracelets, were lit up by the street lights as they drove. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his lap. At that moment, he felt like an impostor, an actor playing a charming role. Très Charmant, My Dear . Hell, he wasn’t even French . “Are you taking me home?” he decided to ask, breaking the romantic ambience. 

“If that’s what you want.” Crap, what the hell did that mean?

Minutes later, Gerard officially lost his mind. Frank pulled over and turned to his date, looking her up and down. “I figured we should take a detour.” 

“Really? Where?” he asked dumbly, leaning back into the door. 

“Here,” Frank took Gerard’s hands into his, kissing them. “Are you okay? You seem nervous.” 

“I’m alright,” he lied, and Frank could certainly tell. 

He responded by planting gentle kisses on Illi’s hands and wrists, all while making seductive eye contact. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to kiss me?” 

“No, I do.” It was true, but the risk proximity brought to his fragile female facade was too much. He wanted to give Frank everything, but the rejection that would follow once Frank discovered Illi McMillin to be only a stage name was too much to bear. 

Frank smiled and pulled his date closer, resting one hand on his hip and the other on his jaw. “Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.” The reassuring smile to follow almost made everything okay. Then they kissed, but this time longer than a peck. 

Gerard returned the kiss, no matter how deceitful. Sometimes morals are clouded when you’ve got a handsome man with his lips latched onto you. That’s probably how a lot of accident babies were made. But that wasn’t an issue for them, for obvious reasons. 

Frank’s hand travelled down Gerard’s side, resting on his thigh, just above the dress hem. The heat from his hand was enough to make him feel light-headed. And then Frank smiled into the kiss and introduced his tongue. 

The actor struggled to keep up, growing out of breath quickly. But his laboured breathing only got Frank more excited, now trailing kisses down his jaw and neck. 

Gerard’s eyes widened as he held his breath, hoping Frank wouldn’t notice a strange roughness on his jaw. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Frank muttered, leaving various love bites on Gerard’s neck, firmly squeezing his thigh.

It took all of Gerard’s willpower not to get a boner. And it was hard, trust me. No pun intended.

Frank massaged Gerard’s thigh gently, his hand slipping under his dress. This was it. If his secret wasn’t revealed now, then Frank was an oblivious fool. 

No, it was way worse than Gerard thought.

Frank pressed his knee between Gerard’s legs, then paused and pulled away, wearing a scowl. “What was that?” 

“H-Huh?” Gerard stammered, cheeks hot with embarrassment. 

“What did I touch that was hard?” 

“Nothing. Probably just part of my dress.” Gerard closed his legs and smiled awkwardly, hand shooting up to fidget with his wig, but actually just moving the wig suspiciously. 

Frank caught the slip-up immediately, also pulling on the wig. It pathetically fell off his head, revealing a head of black hair. Terrified, he scooted back. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Frank, listen…” Gerard’s voice wavered between feminine and masculine, panic absolutely killing his facade. “I was going to tell you. A good moment never came up—!” 

“You’re a man ?!” Frank exclaimed, now backed up against the door. “How could you lie to me?!”

“I’m sorry, Frank. Please, let me explain. I’m a man, yes. But I play a woman in the theatre. You met me in full costume. I…I thought you’d figure it out. I mean, the men’s bathroom thing, people calling me ‘Gerard’ and the… hard thing …” A blush crawled onto Gerard’s cheeks as he stumbled over his words. 

“You let me kiss you…” Frank muttered, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re both men. That’s not supposed to happen.”

“I know. Crap , I know! You wanted to kiss, and so did I. Not the best time to say that, actually…But I love you, Frank.” Gerard clutched the blonde wig in his hands, watching the other man struggle to contain his anger. “Please, don’t be mad. Don’t hurt me. I’ll go if you want. I’m sorry.” He raised a hand to protect himself. 

“Get out.” Frank’s arm shot out to open Gerard’s door, making him flinch at the sudden movement. “Go on. Leave. Before I change my mind.” 

The heartbroken man left the car, adjusting his dress and watching Frank drive away. Emotion, thick and hot, bubbled in his throat, fighting for release. And he cried, for the first time in public. He hated crying. It was gay . 

Some time passed, maybe an hour or less?

He didn’t go home straight away; instead, he stumbled upon a diner, open all night. The pain in his ankles from the heels didn’t compare to the pain in his chest. Like his heart had been torn out by the roots. He thought that downing five strawberry milkshakes would ease the pain, but it only earned him weird glances from the waitress. Desperately, he convinced himself he looked presentable, in his stage dress, lopsided wig and smeared make-up from making out with the love of his life…but he didn’t. There’s no uptalking that mess of a man. 

“Are you okay, darling?” a waitress asked, a sliver of well-needed attention, hand stuck on her hip and eyebrows raised curiously. With her tired face, light makeup and thin lips, she was more of a woman than Illi ever was. 

The rasp of emotion in Gerard’s voice made him sound like a smoker of fifty years, visibly shocking the waitress. “Another one of these, please.” He pointed to the empty strawberry milkshake on the counter. 

“Are you a boy or a girl?” a stranger called out. The innocent question held a derogatory tone, which made Gerard shiver. He turned to see a man, burly with a handlebar moustache. 

“Anything you fuckin’ want me to be,” Gerard grunted in response, clenching a fist. Not a good idea. Not at all. He had trouble killing bugs; how could he fight someone?

“Ain’t classy for a little lady to curse.” The man approached Gerard, a scowl painted onto his face. “Maybe you should learn your place.” 

Blah, blah, blah! A slur here and there. A few punches too. The way Gerard felt can’t be recorded on paper. You can try to imagine, but it won’t come close. No one really knows exactly how another person feels. Something along the lines of self-hatred and an identity crisis. Maybe he should just become Illi and be done with it. If he even made it out of this alive. 

That didn’t seem like an option when Gerard collided with the cold, wet pavements outside the diner. At some point, the stranger had thrown him to the floor. And at some point…it had rained? 

It was his fault for talking back. A good girl takes whatever she’s given and never retaliates. Otherwise, she’s a bitch . A bitch who falls for men she can’t have. A bitch who writes stupid stories about her strange experiences in the theatre. A bitch stuck in a financial slump with her brother. A bitch with impressive literacy skills and a passion for art. A bitch , your narrator. A bitch who, for some reason, has referred to herself in the third person throughout the story. It’s too late to change it now. I was just trying to be mysterious. 

Crying, Gerard picked up his dampened wig from the floor and ripped it into shreds. Off with the jewellery and parts of his dress, too. But before he could forcefully rip off his nail polish, a shadow in the streetlight consumed him. It stood still, watching him. Then a hand extended to him. 

“What do you want from me?!” Gerard sobbed. 

“Gerard…Illi…whatever your name is…” Frank said, voice uncertain and weary. But his hand stayed, waiting. 

“It’s Gerard . Gerard Way.” He wiped his eyes with his palms, smearing eyeliner. “Why are you back?”

“I…saw the fight. Are you alright?” Frank stretched his fingers, waiting for him to take his hand. “Come on, get up.” 

“I’m really sorry for everything, Frank.” Gerard pulled at the loose ends of his dress to cover himself. 

“I know…just, let me take you home. It’s not safe for you out here this late. Especially dressed like… this .” Frank helped him to his feet.

The familiar Rolls-Royce was parked nearby. But sitting in the car this time, the mood was different. Instead of love in the air, there was tension. 

“I’m sorry for freaking out. I shouldn’t have kicked you out of the car. Even though I’m really pissed off at you. That was dangerous. But you’re a dick for deceiving me like that.” Frank gripped the steering wheel tightly, not once glancing at Gerard. 

“I understand and forgive you.” Gerard wanted to curl up in his bed and forget he existed. He probably wouldn’t even tell Mikey. Maybe Frank still felt something for him. Not for beautiful, elegant, blonde Illi McMillin, but for awkward, skittish and raven-haired Gerard Way. It was his very own Jekyll and Hyde situation, except Illi broke hearts. But now, Illi had broken Gerard’s heart. 

“Take care of yourself.” Frank broke the silence, pulling up to Gerard’s apartment complex. 

“Of course,” he muttered, struggling to contain tears. “Thank you, Frank. The moments we shared were…blissful.” A lump formed in his throat, and he left the car quicker, crossing the road and approaching the door. 

“Wait!” Frank called out moments later, before Gerard slipped out of sight. The perfect man leaned against the rolled-down window. On his face, an unreadable expression, a chilling combination of hatred and caution. 

“What?” Gerard asked meekly. 

“Call me.”