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Summary
Frank Iero tries out a new fashion.
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He’s already watching Frank as he walks onto the stage in the mid-afternoon summer sun, a pair of fishnet tights peeking through the rips in his red-stained duct-taped jeans. ‘Just doing something new’ was all he’d said when Gerard asked, shrugging him off. Point is, Gerard’s looking when Frank leans over his mic stand, shirt riding up to show a sliver of pale skin and a flash of pink that nearly blends into his belt. It’s not a solid enough look to confirm anything, but it’s certainly enough to spur on wishful thinking and to glue his eyes to Frank’s waistband. He doesn’t even attempt subtlety the next time Frank bends over his guitar, nearly choking as a light pink waistband slips up above the edge of his loose jeans.