The Boy Who Lives Downstairs: Frank Iero

Prelude to a crush



The girl was obviously struggling with getting her things up the stairs into her apartment. Usually people would be cursing and kicking their things by now, drawing lots of attention to themselves or perhaps asking some bystander for assistance. She wasn’t though. Perhaps that was why he watched her so closely, at first at least. This was back in the beginning, the very beginning. She lived on the third floor of the apartment complex, he lived on the second. One floor below, directly below in fact.

The last person never had moved from the room upon their own initiative, not that the worthless excuse for a manager would have told this girl that. The previous owner left living behind, yet had to be drug from the room. Strange thing, almost as if a part of the person deeply desired to remain.

She had stopped now, sitting atop of one of her two suitcases. Black suitcases, with lots of things on them: patches, stickers, and buttons from what he could see. Perhaps even some original artwork. Interesting. She was breathing sort of heavily, her only outward sign as of now that she was having a hard time.

She was pretty, in a way that you had to really look at her to realize it. Her short blond hair partially hid her face, and her burgundy sunglasses seemed to be trying to hide the rest. She pushed them up from her eyes into her hair to keep it out of her face. Green eyes, sparkling. God, I'm going soft over some girl who will probably be gone like the last tenant.

As he watched her through his peephole, he began to feel a strange guilt. Should I help her? She'll likely refuse. If I help her, I can start to get to know her. She's probably just a snob, like all the others. You can't judge people by their looks. Sure you can, people do it to you all the time.

During his mental argument one of her suitcases fell rather suddenly down the stairs partway. She let out a small yelp and went after it. That’s when he decided to make up his mind, he opened his door and walked to the staircase, cautiously descending behind her. He tapped her shoulder, which made her jump slightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything."

"Oh, sorry I'm just sort of jumpy. I'm psycho like that."

He laughed slightly at this. "Um, I saw you were having some trouble. Do you want help?"

"Oh, I… I wouldn’t want to bother you or anything I mean, I'll eventually get it and all."

"It's no bother," he said honestly.

"Really? That would actually be wonderful."

"Okay," he said as he grabbed the fallen suitcase, "by the way, I'm Frank, Frank Iero."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Frank, I'm Kathleen Le Sec," she said as she started up the stairs beside him. She paused at the top then added, "But you can call me Katie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Katie," Frank said as he set down the bag momentarily to shake her hand.

"Same," she said with a smile, returning his handshake.

She picked up the bag and began ascending the stairs ahead of him. Nice, smooth steps almost like gliding. He began to notice her skirt, how it fit her. How the pleats of it looked so neat, how it was sort of snug. The black mini-skirt. It was short, but not too short. He smiled to himself, he liked it. It gave the impression, to him at least, that she was self-confident. She knew she looked good and she knew just how to flaunt it, without being promiscous. That's when she turned her head back suddenly.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked him raising one eyebrow.

"No reason," he said lacking a better response.


"No one gets a thrill from carrying luggage, even I know this," she said while giving him a wicked smirk.

"This I know, so get moving," he said seriously.

"Okay," she said as she turned back toward the stairs, climbing the final three in one large step, "Done!" she stated triumphantly.

"Congratulations," he said as he climbed the final stairs a few seconds after her.

"This one is mine," she said as she fished a key from her purse, "you can just leave the bags right here."

"I know. Or I can help you with them, its not much further."

"Okay, but I don’t know what it looks like."

"I have a pretty good idea." he said under his breath. After all, who here didn’t? It was big news for a boring apartment complex.

"Sorry, did you say something?" she asked as she finally found her key.

"Nope." he lied.

"Okay then," she said as she opened the door, that’s when she got her first glimpse of the place, "oh. Well then."

"Not what you expected?"

"No not quite, it looks like someone died here," she said as she examined the peeling paint with a contemplating stare.

Frank let out a nervous laugh. "It does look kinda bad I guess."

"Yeah, I guess I'll just have to clean up and repaint. No big deal," she said with a smile.

"Well, good luck with that. I'm going to go now." He said slowly. He didn’t know why, did he want her to ask him to stay? No, but he still wanted to know more about the new girl of apartment number 16.





























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