your old, dirty converse reluctantly took step onto the ground, going at an uncomfortably forced fast paced that doesn’t give you any time to collect yourself or to breath in the fresh, calming air that surrounds the cramped venue filled with fans alike.

you waited for this moment, ever since you were, what, 11? You fucking loved mcr. It comforted you to know that these 4, middle aged men have probably never gotten out of their emo phase and were steaming hot losers back in the 2000s.

Before you know it, your trembling, small self was infront of Frank iero. Like, THE Frank iero. Not like there’s any others anyway. The long, narrow table being the only thing that sits in between you both now. You weakly, or more accurate, pathetically croaked out a small “hi” at the older man infront of you. Your cds in your trembling hands and your electric guitar sits uncomfortably on you back, the thick case making you sweat profusely.