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Description
   G.POV

I woke up the next morning, still curled up in Frank's arms. The sun hadn't even begin to rise so it had to be wicked early. Curious of the time I turned my head only to see red numbers beaming 4:50. 'Dear God it's early. Why am I even awake?' I thought confused. As the daze early morning brings began to fade, last nights events came back to me, along with the unwanted knowledge of the Twin Towers destruction. The images of explosions and screams of terror flooded my mind. Then I recalled what I had said; 'Fuck art! I've gotta get out of the basement! I've gotta see the world! I've gotta make a difference!' Inspiration quickly came washing away the depression.
     I managed to weasle my way out of Frank's grip without waking him, before giving him a kiss on the head and going to find some clothes.
     It was only then that I realized I had never gotten any clothes. Frank had picked me up from work, but this wasn't a dilema for long. I quietly opened Frank's top draw, grabbing a pair of boxers and slipping them on. I then went over to his closet and grabbed a plain black T-shirt as well as my jeans that lay on the floor.
     Knowing that Frank's jeans would be several inches too short, I decided to wear mine now and get clean one s later.
     I ran out to Frank's car and snatched my notebook and a pencil, before I hurried back inside. I couldn't believe how cold it was. It was so beautiful yesterday and it was only September 12th; it shouldn't be cold.
     These thoughts faded and my mind wandered back to what I said before and I was once again inspired, and very determind. I was going to make a difference, no matter what.
     With this in mind, I sat down at the desk in the corner of Frank's bedroom, though Frank still lay sound asleep in his bed. He looked so adorable. I didn't think.... 'Shit! Stay focused,' I scolded myself, turning to the blank pages in front of me.
     It was almost effortless when I started, and only got easier. I simply set my pencil to the paper and it was like magic; it wrote for me. When my hand stopped moving, I set my pencil down and read the page in front of me. It was actually kind of good, and it seemed to have a little tune to it.
     I reread it again and again, making new edits each time. Before I knew it, I had written a song, and it was 8:45.
     I felt a little better now that I had gotten to write down what had happened to the Towers. Except in song form, I guess it was a way to vent. Just like my art. 'Whater ya doin?' A very tired sounding Frank asked.
     I turned to face him replying nervously, 'Well, I woke up early and felt inspired so I decided to write, and it actually has a tune in my head but...'
     'You wrote a song?' he asked, a bit more lively.
     'Well I guess you could call it a song, but I just wrote it on a whim so it might not be that good,' I stated, the nerves showing in my voice. 'What if it only sounds good in my head? What if it's not good at all?' I panicked mentally.
     'Here,' he said, holding out his hand, 'let me read it.' I wlaked over to the bed, my hand shaking as I handed my so called 'song' to Frank. He carfully read it over, once, twice. After a third time he said, 'This is really good. I mean, like, amazing. How could you say it might not be that good?'
     'I don't know. It sounded good in my head but I was afraid you wouldn't like it. I was afraid you would think it was stupid,' I responded, blushing a bit.
     Frank sighed with a smile on his face, 'Gerard Way. The man who wasn't afraid to wear a skirt to school, the man who said he couldn't care less what the world thinks of him, cares what I, Frank Iero, think of his song.
     My face was now beet red as I stared at the ground, trying to hide my emberassment.
     Frank just giggled and grabbed my face in his hands, 'Don't worry,' he said, 'It's cute.' Then he gave me a quick kiss on the lips before standing and getting a pair of boxers out of his dresser. 'Want something to eat?' he questioned as he finished dressing.
     'Yeah, I'm starving.' I answered honestly. The day before I hadn't had any lunch or dinner, and with how insane and fast everything happened, it hadn't even crossed my mind till now.
     'What do you want?'
     'I don't care' I answered, my stomach growling again. 'I just want food.'
     'Pancakes sound good?' he asked.
     'Delicious, but why don't I cook.' I stated, giggling after I finished speaking.
     'Ok' he giggled back, 'but I feel kind of bad. You're the guest.'
     'Now Frankie, it's not that I don't love cajun,' I replied, 'I just... don't love cajun.'
     At this we both broke into a laughing fit. I was trying NOT to tell him his cooking sucked but it obviously didn't work. There was just no way around it.
     'That was fucking hilarious. Not so much what you said, just how you said it.' Frank spoke as I cooked us breakfast. 'You were just trying to be so nice, and then you were basically like, Frank your cooking sucks.' He giggled again.
     'You know Frankie, you have the cutest giggle.'
     'It's called a pot laugh.' he said giggling once again, making me smile.
     'No. It's just your laugh. Your adorably contagious laugh that always makes me smile.'
     'Do you know why I laugh, Gee?' He said.
     'Why?' I responded, setting both our plates on the table.
     'Just for you.' he said staring at me. He seemed to go into a trance for a few minutes but then began digging into his pancakes.
     I did the same, needing to get something in my stomach before I vomited. We finished breakfast and Frank let out a huge burp before saying, 'I'm glad you cooked breakfast, those were delicious.'
     'Thank you.'
     'But I still kind of feel bad you had to cook.'
     Frankie it's ok, really.'
     'Ooo! I know! We can go out to dinner tonight. Wherever you want. I'll buy.' He stated happily.
     'I'm cool with that.' I said in return. 'But first I need to get nice clothes to wear. I mean, I want to look decent if we're going on a date.'
     'Fair enough' Frank said as he grabbed his keys. And off we went to my house. But all I was really thinking about was tonight.

Description
   G.POV

I woke up the next morning, still curled up in Frank's arms. The sun hadn't even begin to rise so it had to be wicked early. Curious of the time I turned my head only to see red numbers beaming 4:50. 'Dear God it's early. Why am I even awake?' I thought confused. As the daze early morning brings began to fade, last nights events came back to me, along with the unwanted knowledge of the Twin Towers destruction. The images of explosions and screams of terror flooded my mind. Then I recalled what I had said; 'Fuck art! I've gotta get out of the basement! I've gotta see the world! I've gotta make a difference!' Inspiration quickly came washing away the depression.
     I managed to weasle my way out of Frank's grip without waking him, before giving him a kiss on the head and going to find some clothes.
     It was only then that I realized I had never gotten any clothes. Frank had picked me up from work, but this wasn't a dilema for long. I quietly opened Frank's top draw, grabbing a pair of boxers and slipping them on. I then went over to his closet and grabbed a plain black T-shirt as well as my jeans that lay on the floor.
     Knowing that Frank's jeans would be several inches too short, I decided to wear mine now and get clean one s later.
     I ran out to Frank's car and snatched my notebook and a pencil, before I hurried back inside. I couldn't believe how cold it was. It was so beautiful yesterday and it was only September 12th; it shouldn't be cold.
     These thoughts faded and my mind wandered back to what I said before and I was once again inspired, and very determind. I was going to make a difference, no matter what.
     With this in mind, I sat down at the desk in the corner of Frank's bedroom, though Frank still lay sound asleep in his bed. He looked so adorable. I didn't think.... 'Shit! Stay focused,' I scolded myself, turning to the blank pages in front of me.
     It was almost effortless when I started, and only got easier. I simply set my pencil to the paper and it was like magic; it wrote for me. When my hand stopped moving, I set my pencil down and read the page in front of me. It was actually kind of good, and it seemed to have a little tune to it.
     I reread it again and again, making new edits each time. Before I knew it, I had written a song, and it was 8:45.
     I felt a little better now that I had gotten to write down what had happened to the Towers. Except in song form, I guess it was a way to vent. Just like my art. 'Whater ya doin?' A very tired sounding Frank asked.
     I turned to face him replying nervously, 'Well, I woke up early and felt inspired so I decided to write, and it actually has a tune in my head but...'
     'You wrote a song?' he asked, a bit more lively.
     'Well I guess you could call it a song, but I just wrote it on a whim so it might not be that good,' I stated, the nerves showing in my voice. 'What if it only sounds good in my head? What if it's not good at all?' I panicked mentally.
     'Here,' he said, holding out his hand, 'let me read it.' I wlaked over to the bed, my hand shaking as I handed my so called 'song' to Frank. He carfully read it over, once, twice. After a third time he said, 'This is really good. I mean, like, amazing. How could you say it might not be that good?'
     'I don't know. It sounded good in my head but I was afraid you wouldn't like it. I was afraid you would think it was stupid,' I responded, blushing a bit.
     Frank sighed with a smile on his face, 'Gerard Way. The man who wasn't afraid to wear a skirt to school, the man who said he couldn't care less what the world thinks of him, cares what I, Frank Iero, think of his song.
     My face was now beet red as I stared at the ground, trying to hide my emberassment.
     Frank just giggled and grabbed my face in his hands, 'Don't worry,' he said, 'It's cute.' Then he gave me a quick kiss on the lips before standing and getting a pair of boxers out of his dresser. 'Want something to eat?' he questioned as he finished dressing.
     'Yeah, I'm starving.' I answered honestly. The day before I hadn't had any lunch or dinner, and with how insane and fast everything happened, it hadn't even crossed my mind till now.
     'What do you want?'
     'I don't care' I answered, my stomach growling again. 'I just want food.'
     'Pancakes sound good?' he asked.
     'Delicious, but why don't I cook.' I stated, giggling after I finished speaking.
     'Ok' he giggled back, 'but I feel kind of bad. You're the guest.'
     'Now Frankie, it's not that I don't love cajun,' I replied, 'I just... don't love cajun.'
     At this we both broke into a laughing fit. I was trying NOT to tell him his cooking sucked but it obviously didn't work. There was just no way around it.
     'That was fucking hilarious. Not so much what you said, just how you said it.' Frank spoke as I cooked us breakfast. 'You were just trying to be so nice, and then you were basically like, Frank your cooking sucks.' He giggled again.
     'You know Frankie, you have the cutest giggle.'
     'It's called a pot laugh.' he said giggling once again, making me smile.
     'No. It's just your laugh. Your adorably contagious laugh that always makes me smile.'
     'Do you know why I laugh, Gee?' He said.
     'Why?' I responded, setting both our plates on the table.
     'Just for you.' he said staring at me. He seemed to go into a trance for a few minutes but then began digging into his pancakes.
     I did the same, needing to get something in my stomach before I vomited. We finished breakfast and Frank let out a huge burp before saying, 'I'm glad you cooked breakfast, those were delicious.'
     'Thank you.'
     'But I still kind of feel bad you had to cook.'
     Frankie it's ok, really.'
     'Ooo! I know! We can go out to dinner tonight. Wherever you want. I'll buy.' He stated happily.
     'I'm cool with that.' I said in return. 'But first I need to get nice clothes to wear. I mean, I want to look decent if we're going on a date.'
     'Fair enough' Frank said as he grabbed his keys. And off we went to my house. But all I was really thinking about was tonight.