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Frank knows how it sounds, but he does not have a fear of needles. No, it was quite the opposite, and that's the problem.
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'From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.' - Edvard Munch
Frank Iero had everything he'd ever wanted: a husband who loved him, a successful art gallery, a beautiful apartment and the life he'd always dreamed of. But after losing his husband, he's is too stubborn to understand that all stories needs to end.
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After his failed suicide attempt, Frank meets his new psychiatrist, Gerard Way, and his perspective on the world starts to change slowly but surely.
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Creating music is something that can often bring all the ugly things to the surface. Tension starts to seep in, and intensifies feelings that are heightened as it is.
When things at The Paramour Estate start going awry, it's a test not only to the band and their friendship, but to Frank Iero's sanity itself.
It begs the question:
What is rooted in reality, and what is simply the trick of an already fragile mind?---
“Frankie-”
Frank shakes his head frantically, “I’m not crazy, don’t look at me like that!” And even if he was, he feels pretty fucking strongly that he is allowed to rave like a mad man after that. “I’m not fucking crazy, you saw it!”
Gerard sighs quietly, reaching out to touch Frank's cheek. “I know you’re scared-” he sounds so reasonable that it makes rage seer through the smaller man’s veins.
On most occasions, Frank loves hearing those gentle tones from Gerard’s mouth. This is not one of those moments. Gerard is trying to calm Frank down, and Frank will not be fucking calmed down.