He's not mad, he only looks that way.

I stared at the number one more time, scrawled in my messy handwriting across a small square of crumpled paper. My finger traced nervously over the buttons on the phone. I'd been sat there for way too long, debating whether or not to make the damn call. With an exasperated sigh at my own lack of balls, I hit the numbers before i could change my mind.
A female voice answered after only two rings. "Hello?"
I stammered. "Uh... Hi. I-is this the Way household?"
The woman sounded a little confused, but her answer was honest. "Yes, this is Donna Way speaking. Can I help you?"
I sighed into the phone. "Mrs Way... I know you might not be happy to hear from me, but my name is Frank Iero. I'm the one who your son lived with when he left home."
The breathing on the other line stopped. "What do you want from us? How did you get out number?" Her tone had gone from polite confusion to a hostile hiss.
"Mrs Way, please. I'm not looking to make trouble. I found your number in the phonebook. I know you don't appreciate what I did-"
I was cut off. "Dont appreciate it?!" Now she was shrieking. "I think that might be a little of an understatement, don't you? You took our son, our mentally ill son, and you kept him locked up in your house instead of sending him somewhere to be helped. He could have been in any state, thank goodness we found him when we did!"
I was on the verge of tears. "Mrs Way, please. I never meant to hurt Gerard, ever. I-" the tears began to fall down my face. "I fell in love with your son. I know it sounds crazy, I know its too soon, I know things don't work that way, but I care about him so so much. I'm begging you, let me have some sort of contact with him. A number I can call, an address I can write to, anything?" I sounded pathetic, pleading down the phone like a child, but i needed it so much. I needed some form of contact with him, or I'd end up in the room next to his.
Mrs Way had gone very quiet. "Mr Iero, you do realise i have no reason whatsoever to trust you?"
I nodded vigorously as if she could see it. "I know, ma'am, I totally understand. But please, I swear I don't mean any harm. Just give me some way to speak to my Gerard." My voice cracked weakly at the end of my sentence. I heard a rattled sigh down the phone, and she was silent for about a minute of pure agony.
"Alright, here's the deal. I'll give you the number for the hospital my son is in. You ring them and explain who you are. If they see fit to let you see him, then I don't really see a reason to complain. He has talked about wanting to see you, after all."
I could have kissed her. "Thank you Mrs Way, thank you so, so much!"
She stopped me. "Don't go thanking me yet, boy. You mess around with my son and you'll have a lot to answer for, I promise you that."
I agreed passionately. If i caused Gerard any harm, I'd lay down and take the beating. I must have worked some desperate magic, because she reeled off a number for me to call. She then hung up while I was still thanking her, without any goodbyes. Oh well, maybe I wasn't forgiven, but fuck it, I'd got what I wanted. I eagerly keyed in the number she's given to me, then I paused. Maybe Mrs Way had given me more than she thought. I bounced up and slid my laptop into my lap, cracked open the lid, and waited impatiently for a search engine to load. With trembling fingers, i searched the phone number I'd just receives. Mother of fuck, there it was. The website for the mental health institute, a half hour drive from where I lived. And what is that sweet thing in the corner of the window? A motherfucking address.
"YES!!" I'm pretty sure the neighbours may have heard me, but i honestly didn't care. I grabbed my jacket and ran out the door, off to find my baby Gerard.
********
I opened the shiny glass door that led me into a sterile white reception area. My breathing was erratic, my pulse running on high and my palms sweaty enough to leave prints on the gleaming chrome door handles. I walked shakily up to the main desk and glanced at the woman sitting behind it. She was watching me wearily, as if wondering if I was here as a guest or a patient.
"I-I was wondering if perhaps I could speak to one of the patients here...?" i sounded pitiful.
"I'm sorry sir, that's just not possible. We run a high-security facility here, I can't just let you wander in."
Like a prison, i thought. "Well... Could you tell Gerard Way that Frank came by to see him? I think he's like to hear-"
I stopped. To one side, there was a small window revealing a corridor deeper within the building. And in that window, I could see a mess of jet-black hair, cute pink lips open in shock, and a pair of gorgeous hazel eyes staring right at me.

Notes

Well. Voila!

I am a terrible, terrible person. I'm sorry. Really. I hope this makes up for it a little. I'm not quite back into the swing of things yet when it comes to fic-writing, but I'll establish myself eventually. The updates will get better. Also, i wanted to say that, before my little hiatus a lot of readers used to interact with me on twitter, kik, tumblr, stuff like that. I would love for you guys to do that stuff again. So in my profile on here are all my details if anyone is interested. Love you all!! Paranoia Violence out xø