As These Days Watch Over Time

by Xx_D3moliti0n_V4mpire_xX

Summary:

Frank needs a place to stay after his previous place didn't quite work out for him. Gerard and Mikey are looking for a roommate in return to help with expenses. Needless to say they MIGHT have been on the verge of getting evicted. Brian suggest that Frank moves in with the Way brothers, and so he does without many questions. Frank instantly connects with Mikey and somewhat with Gerard, despite him seeing them both as two complete weirdos.

But something feels off.

Mikey acts strange whenever he talks about Gerard. Gerard seems to keep a barrier between him and Frank, only letting it down occasionally. To add on to the freakiness, sometimes the two brothers can even be heard talking and going in and out of the apartment all throughout the night. Who goes for a stroll at three in the morning?

The two are hiding something and honestly, Frank couldn't care less...at least until he does.

Notes:

This will be my first long fic that I've written in awhile T-T Hopefully I can keep up with updates and not take too long!! This also happens to be my first fic in the MCR fandom that I'll be posting. I hope I do these guys justice and match their personalities! Enjoy?? :)

Chapter 1: Coffee Lovers Are Weird

“Alright, here we are.” The small car came to a stop, brakes squeaking over the sound of Brian heaving a heavy sigh. Frank reached his hand to the car door and pulled it open, stepping a foot on to the cracked pavement below him and pulling his old beaten book bag over his shoulder. The sun had started to go down, resulting in the sky turning a pretty orange color. He spun around and leaned on the car window seal, Brian leaned over close, waiting for him to speak, probably wanting for the ‘thanks’ anyone would expect.

“Thanks, Brian,” Strands of black hair invaded his vision. “Seriously. I was in a kinda tough spot and you helped me find a place to stay for a bit. I can’t thank you enough, honest.” Frank smiled sincerely, lines tugging at the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, Yeah, whatever. No need for all the praise.” He said even though the way he was smiling contradicted his words. He looked like an idiot who just got told by his mom that he was awesome for getting a hundred on some test at school.

“Do you need me to come up with you? Just to make sure you make it to the right apartment.” Brian shrugged, his face settled.

“No, I’ll be fine. I have a wonderful memory, if you must know, and I’m not a stupid child.” Frank smiled, waving a hand dismissively around in the air, he started to pull away from the window.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He said in a clear voice–not even trying to fucking mumble–but Frank still found himself having a brain shortage. “What’d you say? Repeat it.” His head cracked back to stare Brian dead in the eyes, he glared into his soul–or at least the best glare he could muster.

“I didn’t say anything.” He looked straight ahead, as if Frank wasn’t even there, only his voice. “You’re hearing things.” He slouched in his car seat, the cracked tan leather clashed with his bright red shirt, something that constantly became the focal point every time Frank looked at him. “I’m not. You said that shit clear as day.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat it?” He turned his head, a smug smirk painted across his face. “W-What? No. That’s not what I meant-”

“Ah, just shut up and get the rest of your bags out of my trunk. Get a move on inside that apartment, your new sweet humble abode!” He waved a hand, basically telling Frank to ‘shoo’. Frank scoffed, but laughed nonetheless. He complied and turned his heels, heading to the rear of the car, clicking it open, he pulled a big tattered green suitcase out from it, along with his guitar case. The suitcase wasn’t very pleasing to the eyes due to its checkered pattern, but at least it worked and carried most of his clothes. Frank dropped it to the ground with a huff and slammed the trunk closed, patting the metal, signifying to Brain, ‘all set’.

“Mikey should be expecting you, so go on. Call me later once you’ve settled in, Frank.” Brain called from the driver side window, “Ok, I will. If I remember.” Frank mumbled, taking a few steps up to the sketchy looking apartment building. The neighborhood was fairly quiet, birds chirped in the far distance, but other than that nothing, not even other cars driving past.

Silence.

Which was weird to Frank in a sense. His eyes darted across the building's structure, dark brown bricks, and air conditioners that stuck out from some windows, along with broken blinds in some others. Balconies were riddled with what looked like lawn chairs and coffee tables, the building must have held a lot of smokers. Perfect. Frank thought, smiling to himself. Suddenly, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, something was staring at him from behind a dark red curtain, from what he could make out of his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly–so the figure could be more in his line of sight– as if on cue, the figure disappeared, the curtain slightly swinging. He turned his head so very slightly, even if there was someone in that balcony window, could they have even seen him do it? From that far and that height? Talk about superhuman vision.

“What’s the problem? Get your ass in there, man.” Brian spoke, breaking the raging war Frank was having with himself and reality. But really, was someone there or not?

“Y-Yeah, yeah. I’m going in right now, go ahead, go take care of whatever other errands you’ve gotta.” He clenched the suitcase behind him as he started after the thick black door, pulling out a small key Brian had given to him earlier.

Stepping through the tall door, Frank was met with a stale atmosphere, dust cutting through the air and shining with the light that came through the small windows–that were of course taller than Frank, but he chose not to dwell on that fact for too much longer.

Third floor. Third floor. Third floor.

Each step cracked under his foot, a few grunts huffed from his mouth as he dragged the suitcase up behind him. Too many damn steps. Finally he made it to the last stretch, 302, was the apartment number. Once he made it down the short hallway, he stopped in front of the door. Brain gave him the key to the apartment room as well, not just to downstairs, he also said that this Mikey guy should be waiting for him. Should he still use basic manners and knock on the door or just use the key?...Fuck it. He decided and finally knocked on the door firmly.

A few good seconds passed before Frank heard a few clicks come from behind the door, then it opened.

“Hello!” A pretty lanky guy smiled at Frank cheerfully, waving a skinny hand. “Come in.” He said quickly and then moved to the side, making room for Frank to pass through into the room. “Brian said you’d be coming today, he just never told us what time. Geez, that guy.” He mumbled the last bit as he shifted around awkwardly in front of the small glass coffee table that was in the center of the living room. Frank lugged his bag in, dropping both the suitcase and his guitar by the ash black couch. He stood up straight and looked around the room. The lighting was much darker than it was in the stairwell, but at least it smelled better, like coffee actually.

“Would you like some coffee? I was just about to make some.” The guy read his mind and started to make his way to the kitchen, just a few feet away from the living room. “Sure, thanks.” He found himself being pretty quiet, there wasn’t much to say.

“Any particular way you want it?”

“Nah, ‘s good…Actually, extra sugar’d be fine. If you have almond or soy milk, that’d be cool too.” He sat down on the couch, which basically swallowed him, it was comfy though.

“How was the ride over here? I hope Brian wasn’t too much of a dick to you,” He spoke from the kitchen, giggling. “But, I’m pretty sure you know him as well as I do.”

“Eh, nothing I can’t handle from him at least. I mean sure, he has his shit together and stuff but he can still act pretty childish, even sneaky.” Frank laughed, crossing his legs at the ankle and knee. “But alas, that guy suggested I pair up with you when I was looking for roommates to stay with, I gotta give him the credit for that.” And a lot of other credit for a lot of other things too, but Frank decided he didn’t need to know that. “I couldn’t agree with you more. That guy has gotten me out of a small jam more times than I can count on both hands and feet, all while acting like a brat. But he's kind of like family, y'know?” Mikey spoke with his back to Frank, his hands shuffling along the counter.

Frank couldn't help but to let his eyes wander around the nice size apartment, it was his new home, so there's no reason for him not to. The TV across from him was a really nice size with what looked like a pile of CDs under it, they all looked like rock or metal bands, some of which Frank knew. Just beside the kitchen was a short but wide hallway with two closed doors on each side, a few steps behind him was another closed door, stickers plastered all over it along with pretty cool designs, which looked like they were hand painted on. To the right, another room but its door was wide open. Frank stared for a second, the room was nicely put together. The bed was neat, nothing covered the ground–unlike Frank's old room–some band posters neatly taped to the walls and it even looked like he had some action figures standing up on a shelf in the far corner. One figure looked like a unicorn?

Suddenly, he heard a soft click behind him, like the sound of a door slowly opening. Frank turned his head quickly to face the sound, his eyes rested upon the closed door, it hadn’t moved at all.

Fucking weird, he could’ve sworn he heard it opening; he decided to chalk it up to not having cleaned out his ears in awhile.

“Coffee’s done, come get it and tell me how it tastes, yeah?”

The spikey haired guy placed two mugs on the beige countertop, two lights hung from the ceiling, shining down on them. The layout wasn’t too bad, especially for an apartment that looked pretty shitty from the outside, it was cozy.

Frank pulled himself out from the couch, his eyes stuck to the strange door for a few more seconds, maybe he really did need that damn coffee.

“Thanks…uh…I-I could’ve sworn Brian told me–what’s your name again?”

“Mikey, call me Mikey.” He smiled from over the rim of his mug, his glasses fogging up a bit.

“Sorry,” He chuckled, “Thanks, Mikey.” His eyes peered back down to the counter and then to Mikey again. There were three mugs of coffee–his own, Mikey’s, and one that looked like a big Batman logo was on it. The solid color of the mug was a dark navy blue.

“Hey, why’d you make-”

“Would you like me to show you around?” He placed his mug back on the counter, it made a clinking sound. “It’ll be a short tour and you gotta know where your room is eventually, right?” He started off to the hallway, taking long strides. Frank followed him hesitantly, he couldn’t help but to clutch his mug tightly, his knuckles started to turn white. This place kind of made his skin crawl, sure, Mikey seemed like a cool dude, but there was something weird here and Frank couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was.

I swear if Brian sent me here to get killed and skinned, or tortured–or something, I’ll haunt his ass for the rest of his life.

“Here’s your room.” He pushed the door open then stepped aside, allowing Frank to take a peek into his new space. The room was clean, too clean, like literally fucking bare. A medium twin sized bed sat pushed into the left corner of the room, only covered by a thin fitted sheet, and a single sad looking pillow. A dresser sat on the opposite side of the room sulking, begging to be used for once in its life, or to be put out of its misery?.. Better than being out on the streets though, for both Frank and the dresser. Frank shrugged and stepped into the room.

“I know it’s a little sad looking, but we can get you some more blankets and pillows, we keep extras. It’s just that someone’s a little stingy with them sometimes.” Mikey rolled his eyes, then he stared down the hall, as if he was glaring at someone. Then he quickly turned his attention back to Frank.

“Yeah, dude, no problem. Definitely have to fix this place up a little bit, give me a few weeks and I can give it some damn personality.” Frank smirked, ideas already flooding into his head as he looked around–none of which could be brought to life due to the budget he was realistically working with. But it never hurts to dream.

“That’s good, I really hope the place warms up to you soon,” He smiled sweetly, his glasses hung slightly at the tip of his nose. “Right across from your room is the bathroom,” He turned away from Frank, gesturing to the closed door across from him. “Lucky…” He started to mumble, “Wait no…” He looked like he was deep in thought, Frank bought his mug back up to his lips, interested in watching Mikey go through some type of thought process–or whatever he was doing.

“You’d probably hear us piss–and other bathroom activities that shall not be mentioned–throughout the day. Depending on how much you’ll be here, of course. So I can’t imagine that’d be much fun.” He spoke to himself rather than at Frank, staring down at the carpet, his index and thumb rubbing at his chin in an odd way.

Frank thought it was weird–how Mikey spoke and using the pronouns that he did.

Mikey shook his head and waved his hands, seemingly trying to shake himself out of the stupor he got himself into. “Sorry, man. Back to the amazing tour.” He walked back towards the living room, waving a hand for Frank to follow.

“Yeah, really fucking awesome.” Frank laughed, feeding into his sarcasm.

“This is my spot.” Mikey gestured to the neat room Frank observed earlier, “Not much to look at, buuut if you do ask me, I have some cool things. Just gotta look in the right places.” He giggled, but Frank started to tune him out a bit as he started to go on some rant about how much posters go for nowadays and how it was so incredibly ridiculous. Frank turned away from him to sit his now empty mug on the counter, as his eyes fell on the surface he couldn’t help but feel something was off.

There was definitely a weird Batman mug that Mikey left here earlier. Now, it was nowhere to be found.

Frank’s eyebrows knitted together, he was sure that Mikey had been with him the whole time and he had been with Mikey. First that weird curtain incident, the weird sound of a-door-opening-but-not-really, then Mikey and his goddamn plural pronouns, now a missing mug that was definitely there. What the fuck is going on.

“Uh, Mikey?” He said, not meaning for it to come out so shakily.

“Wasn’t there a third mug sitting here? For whatever reason.” He pointed at the empty spot.

Mikey turned to look at him with the most confused eyes ever. “Yeah, there was.” He spoke, not picking up on what Frank was so freaked out about.

“Did you move it?”

“...No?” He said in a half smile, like Frank was supposed to be some comedian.

“So where the fuck did it go?” His eyes were still glued to the empty space.

“Right here.” An unfamiliar spoke far from behind Frank. The second voice that seemingly came out from nowhere didn’t necessarily make Frank jump, but he felt like all the blood in his veins stopped pumping for a second. He slowly turned his body around, his hips pressing into the hard counter, and his eyes met with ones of a homeless guy that somehow snuck into their apartment building and chose this room to hunker down in.

He held the mug in the air as if he was giving a toast, one pale pinky stuck out from behind it. He laid spread out on the couch in tattered Star Wars patterned pajama pants, his oversized black T-shirt was just as tattered and worn out, his weird looking socks that covered his feet–which he had propped up on the arm of the sofa-matched his getup perfectly.

Frank’s eyes flickered over to the only room this guy could have emerged from, the door was still closed.

“I’m Gerard. Gerard Way. If you really wanna know the last name.” He smiled sweetly, it felt weirdly welcoming.

“Did Brian really not tell you about Gee?” Mikey took a step towards him. Frank felt kind of freaked out, but more confused if anything.

“No, he really didn’t.” Brian probably did mention something about him, Frank thought, but again, neither Mikey nor this Gerard guy needed to know that. “Plus, it was quiet as hell in here. Of course I thought that there was only one dude.”

“I didn’t even know he was coming today.” Gerard spoke up, he cradled his coffee mug like someone might just snatch it from him.

“Brian–” Mikey started to say, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No–No, it’s not his fault. We should’ve made more of an effort in contacting you, not just him.” He spoke, clearly frustrated. Frank didn’t see it as much of a big deal though, especially since he started to relax more. Gerard wasn’t a scary dude, but it’s not like Frank to be scared of just anyone anyways, no matter how much bigger they were.

“Well now I know he’s here, so no problem dude, we’re all good. It doesn’t change much.” Frank shrugged. He stepped forward to Gerard who still laid on the couch, only he sat up a bit more as he watched Frank approach.

“I’m Frank.” He held out his hand, waiting for Gerard to shake it. Gerard’s hand was warm when he took Frank’s–but at the same time, the longer he held on, the more Frank could feel it rapidly getting colder and colder. Weird. This guy is weird. Was all Frank could think.

“I’m Gerard–shit, I already said that, didn’t I?” He pulled back his hand to wrap it around his mug once again. His round cheeks turned a light shade of pink, which he tried to hide under his long greasy black hair, but it was still noticeable due to the contrast of his weirdly pale skin.

“Yeah, you did, but it’s fine.” Frank found himself giggling, then he turned to Mikey.

“Are there any other mystery people Brian didn’t tell me about?” He cocked his eyebrow.

“Nope, my brother should just about cover it.” Mikey smiled, the brother bit catching Frank off guard.

“Brothers, huh?” He looked between the two.

“Yup.” Gerard chirped, taking in his coffee by mouthfuls. Sipping probably wasn’t good enough for him anymore.

Frank hummed in response, then took a seat on the other end of the couch, wrapping his legs underneath him. “So, are there any rules I need to be aware of? Arrangements? Shit like that.” He rested his chin on the palm of his hand staring up at Mikey, his eye cutting to Gerard as well.

“No, not really. We’re pretty chill around here–I mean, of course, pay your share of the rent on time, or at least try not to be too late. But that should go without saying,” Mikey trailed off, he looked deep in thought, scouring his brain for anything that could be important for Frank to know.

“Oh,” He finally spoke up. “Never–and I mean ever–make the last bit of coffee. Especially if you don’t plan to replace it right after.” Mikey stared into Frank’s soul. Frank turned his head to Gerard who was also staring at him, it was creepy.

These brothers were weird, what had Frank gotten himself into.

Chapter 2: When Weirdos Collide

Summary:

The chapter where the two weirdos talk a lot. Also Gerard makes a lot of comics for Mikey, isn't that sweet?

I'm not very good at chapter summaries. Please spare me.

Frank slowly opened his eyes, a line of sunlight shining directly into them. He hissed and turned away from it, pulling a thin blanket–which he borrowed from Mikey–over his shoulder. Frank laid on his side for a few seconds, staring at the inside of his eyelids.

It was fucking freezing in his room, the only thing to keep him warm was a crappy stripped blanket and one pillow which resulted in his neck feeling stiff as hell.

Last night, Mikey had emerged from Gerard’s room with extra blankets–ones that Gerard did not look like he wanted to give up in the first place–and asked Frank if he wanted to use those. Frank declined, not wanting to make Gerard do something he really didn’t have to do. Frank was an ass, but hey, if the guy wanted his blankets, then so be it. But now, Frank was regretting that decision.

He sat up, the springs in his bed protested at each move he took, and started to make his way to the bathroom across the hall. Stepping out, it was only colder outside of his room, he wrapped his arms around himself and continued on.

Once he took his very much needed morning piss, he looked at himself in the mirror, his hair stuck up in every way it possibly could. Who cared though. Frank shrugged and exited the bathroom, scratching at his stomach underneath his shirt as he slowly made his way to the kitchen.

“Nice pajamas.” Mikey sat on the couch grinning, eyeing Frank’s underwear.

“Shut up. Like you’ve never slept in your underwear before.” Frank laughed as he started to pour coffee from the pot into a mug. It seemed as though Mikey was always a few steps ahead, getting to wake up to already brewed coffee was awesome.

“Yeah, no, I definitely have. Everyone has. Just…not in ones where there was a hole in the left ass cheek.” Mikey was clearly trying to fight off a laughing fit, his eyebrows furrowed. You’d think he was fighting off demons the way he was trying to hold in his laugh.

“Fuck off, Way.” Frank scoffed, turning around to face him.

“Oh, I guess it was good Gee told you our last name, now you can use it against us.” Mikey sipped from his own mug, smiling.

He was in a good mood and cheerful–which is better than him being awkward or distant. Frank hated those kinds of roommates. The kinds who never made any attempts to make some kind of connection with the fucking person they were literally living with. It felt great for Frank to be accepted by Mikey so easily, he wasn’t so sure if he could say the same for Gerard. Last night, the three talked about how the expenses should be split and other various things that didn’t matter as much. During the conversation, Gerard didn’t speak much.

At one point, Frank had bought up a new sci-fi horror movie that just came out when speaking to Mikey. Frank didn’t know much about the movie itself, but he thought about going to see it eventually. When he mentioned it, he couldn’t help but notice Gerard perked up a bit, then muttered something about hearing about it too. Frank wondered if he liked sci-fi movies or horror movies, he looked excited about the topic.

“Hey, Mikey,” Frank walked over and sat across from him. “I don’t know this part of town all too well. Are there any stores close by? I wanna get some more blankets and pillows for my room, and y’know, I got a few dollars to throw away.” Mikey’s giggling faded as he turned to Frank.

“Yeah, there is a Walmart that’s nearby.” Mikey shifted on the couch to face him and smiled. “It’s actually near my job, I could drive you if you want, as long as you go get dressed like…right now.” His eyes flicked to the round clock hanging up on the wall. “ I was just about to go in to start my shift and I can’t be late. I have to show I’m responsible at least a little bit.” Mikey laughed.

“I’m sure you’re responsible. I mean, you made coffee!” Frank gestured to the warm mug in his hand, Mikey’s face dropped.

“How the hell does that prove that I’m responsible enough to show up to my job on time?” Mikey scooted to the edge of the cushion, preparing to stand up.

“I dunno. But it has to count for something…” Frank shrugged, thinking. “It shows how caring you are.” He nodded, staring into the brown liquid in his cup, like he found the meaning to life inside of it.

“You’re a funny asshole.”

“Thanks!” He grinned, “What do you do for work anyways?” Frank took pride in the label Mikey presented to him.

“I work at this small comic book store, it’s not a big position, but it still gets me money and the manager is chill. Plus, I get these cool ass comics for a sweet discount, sometimes completely for free.” He looked like he really enjoyed his job, his voice was full with enthusiasm. “Oh, you might wanna go get ready now, I have to get out of here in the next ten minutes. No later.”

“Alright, alright. I wouldn’t wanna make you late, especially as you’re doing me such a kind favor.” Frank stood up, dragging his feet behind him back towards his room.

“Don’t consider it as such too soon. ‘Cause ya know, I won’t be able to drive you back when you’re done with your shopping.” Mikey grabbed a pair of keys that were laid out on the table. Frank hadn’t thought about that, so he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Mikey again, his face slightly twisted in thought. “What about Gerard?” Frank pointed a slouchy finger to the door covered in stickers, the only other room in the apartment that could be Gerard’s. “I’m sure he knows his way around, maybe he could tag along and then walk me back. If he doesn’t mind of course.” Mikey made a pained face, but then it disappeared just as fast as it came.

“Gee doesn’t like to go out too much–or no, I won’t say that. He just–just isn’t a morning person, or a day person at all for that matter.” Mikey kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, Frank eyed him. “He’s still asleep and wouldn’t want to be bothered right now. Don’t get me wrong! He’d love to help you, he really is a sweet guy!” He spluttered, trying to ease Frank’s confused expression. “And he does know his way around the area, he used to go to that Walmart for art supplies all the time, so it’s not like I’m trying to say he’s some introvert loser vampire who prefers to be locked in the house all the time-”

“Okay, I get it,” Frank laughed at the way Mikey was sweating bullets. “I’ll find my way back on my own, you said it wasn’t far, so I’m sure I can put on my big boy pants and figure it out.” He continued down the short hall, leaving Mikey standing like an idiot in the middle of the living room.

Five minutes passed before he stepped back out, wearing jeans that bunched at his ankles–probably because he was short and somehow still got the wrong pants size–and a black T-shirt, the same white long sleeved shirt he wore to bed under it, white poked out around his neck and at his waist. He clearly tried to slick his hair down, but that could only do so much.

“Lemme just slip my shoes on, then we can go.” He looked to Mikey–who still looked white as a ghost–and grabbed a pair of beaten up black sneakers.

“O-Okay, I’ll go get the car started.” He tripped out the door, catching himself before he could make contact with the floor. Maybe Frank could never understand these dudes.

__________

 

It wasn’t long before Frank came out of the store with two big plastic bags clutched in his hands and of course, Mikey wasn’t there–so this marked the beginning of his trek back to the apartment. Frank made sure to pay extra attention to his surroundings as Mikey drove through the neighborhood, just so he didn’t look like a complete dumbass who wasn’t where he should be as he worked his way back.

Mikey’s car wasn’t all that much to look at and was most definitely second hand. It’s radio didn’t work, nor did it have a working AC…and the passenger window couldn’t roll down–apparently because “it just does that sometimes”. But it was in times like this where Frank wished he was back in that sweaty microwave.

After walking for about five minutes–thanking his semi good memory for allowing him to know where he was heading to some extent–Frank found that the walk wasn’t so bad. Of course there were some questionable things in his path, like the four ripped open condom packs he counted laying about on the sidewalk so far, but other than that, he found it to be peaceful. Small trees lined the sides of the pavement, kids rode their bikes around, it was all a calming white noise.

Frank let his bags hang from his arms as he pulled out a box of Marlboro cigarettes from his back pocket. He pulled at it with his lips and then struggled with his slowly dying lighter before it finally lit, he sighed in relief as he felt the smoke invading his lungs. It felt good, but to think his lungs were being crowded with smoke made Frank cringed a bit. He’d stop one day, but that day just wouldn’t be today.

After a few wrong turns and asking a few strangers for directions, Frank made it back to the sketchy building, his knuckles feeling cramped. There were only blankets and pillows in the bags, but Frank could only hold onto them for so long. He fumbled out his keys and then made his way up the quiet staircase, the silence made him wonder how many other people actually lived here.

Frank stepped into the apartment, he was met with the living room being almost entirely pitch black. Which was weird as it was bright outside, the light from the balcony should have been illuminating the entire room.

“What the fuck.” Frank squinted his eyes trying to see anything he could, of course there was no luck. He stretched his arm out to the side, remembering there was a light switch right at the side of the front door. It felt over the wall for a few long seconds before his pinky grazed over it, then he flipped it on. The light flooded the room, blinding him for a second as his eyes adjusted to the light.

The living room was completely empty, his eyes moved across the room to where the tall glass sliding door should’ve been which led to the small balcony. In place of them were two black curtains that stretched across and hid the doors away, along with any streams of sunlight, he’d never noticed those there before. The curtains looked thick and were long, so much so that they folded over themselves a bit when it met the carpeted floor, they were most definitely blackout curtains. Frank thought it was a weird choice considering where they lived. It wasn’t the most fancy–like at all–and clearly money was a bit tight, but they could spare the money for blackout curtains? Frank knew they tended to cost more than regular curtains, so he stood in front of the door for a few seconds longer, wondering why the hell they went out of their way to get them.

He finally concluded that he no longer cared. If the Way brothers just so happened to be vampires and hated the sunlight, then he’d let them rock out without any further questions.

Frank made his way towards his room in an amble, his cigarette hung from the side of his mouth. Once in his room, he kicked off his shoes and then got to work, taking the sheets and other various fabrics out of the bag all to make his bed feel like an actual bed and not some cold prison mattress.

The thought of having stuffed animals spread out across his bed flashed in his head. He didn’t hate the idea.

He quickly spread out the remaining covers–they were a bit messy, but Frank couldn’t care less, he’d only be climbing back into them sooner or later. He rested his hands on his hips, looking around the room. He felt as though it was missing something else, but he didn’t know what. His last spot wasn’t all much to look at, but it was still his place and it felt like it to him too. This space didn’t and Frank wasn’t sure just how he could make it feel like him just yet. Suddenly, his stomach started to growl, filling the quiet air around him. He sighed before turning towards the door. He’d figure out how to make the room his at some point, whatever that meant to him in the first place.

Frank walked into the living room to see Gerard sitting on the couch, his knees tucked up to his chest, it looked like he had a big book squished between his chest and thighs. The sight made him jump, it was so quiet that he completely forgot about him.

“Hey, Gerard.” Frank stood still staring at him for a second before his stomach reminded him what they were supposed to be doing. Food.

“Hi, Frank,” Gerard spoke quietly, Frank noted his squeaky high-pitched voice. “Mikey went to work?” Gerard spoke as Frank’s head was buried in the fridge.

“Yup. Do you not know your own brother’s schedule? The brother who you live with?” Frank chuckled, smiling to Gerard as he turned away from the fridge, slamming it closed with his foot. He held a small tub of strawberry yogurt in his hand which had a big almond on the cover and he then pulled out several drawers in search of silverware; once he found some spoons he quickly shoved one into his mouth before making his way over to Gerard on the couch.

“No, I do know his schedule…kind of. I just kinda lose track of time. If that’s a good way to put it.” Gerard kept his eyes on Frank as he sunk down into the opposite side of the couch, already shoving mouthfuls of yogurt into his mouth.

“I feel you, man. Time is a bitch that is somehow always slipping away from us.” Frank looked forward to the blank TV. Was Gerard just sitting in here in silence doing…whatever it was he was doing? Frank didn’t even hear Gerard move from out of his room and into the living room.

The air between them fell quiet again, it wasn’t an uncomfortable awkward silence, but it wasn’t very comfortable either.

“Did I scare you?” Gerard spoke up, Frank could feel him staring at the side of his face. The question caught him off guard for a second, he didn’t think that he jumped all that visibly when he saw Gerard, maybe he was just really observant and could catch the little details on other people.

Frank turned his head to face him, his dark greasy looking hair clashed with his pale skin, the strands of hair framed around his round face in a way Frank thought looked nice on him.

“Well, only a little bit,” Frank smiled, sticking his nose up in a playful manner, trying to ease any lingering tension. “And what’s with you and being so sneaky?” Frank admired the way the light shined off his face from the only lamp in the corner of the room beside the couch–other than that, it was completely dark around them as the curtains were still sealed shut. “Is that like…” He tried to find the words, twirling around his spoon. “A thing with you?” Frank cocked an eyebrow.

Gerard held eye contact with Frank for a long second, then suddenly Frank saw a small glimmer of red flash in his eyes. It went just as quickly as it came and Gerard snapped his gaze away from him, looking down to the carpeted floor. Frank scrunched his eyebrows together, Gerard didn’t seem like much of a talker in the first place, but Frank hadn’t thought it’d be this hard.

“It’s not like I try to sneak up on people. I’m just naturally quiet, I think.” He huddled his knees closer to his chest, further squishing the book he held there. Frank was curious about what was in it.

“Like fuck! You’re super quiet–not that there’s anything wrong with that–it’s almost scary. Like when I first got here, the only sign of life I saw was Mikey!” Frank twisted his body to face himself more to Gerard and he brought his legs up to rest on the couch. From an outside view, Frank thought that their body language must look insanely different, his so open and relaxed while Gerard’s was closed off and tense looking.

Frank heard a light chuckle come from Gerard, he looked up and it seemed as if a small smile was tugging at the corner of his thin lips. He still stared at the carpet, but Frank only felt more confident to keep talking. If he made Gerard laugh–even if it was only a bit–he must not find his presence as invasive as he makes it seem.

“Oh, yeah? Maybe I should start being loud and annoying. Maybe leave my dirty socks around?” Gerard finally spoke, he seemed to press his lips together before he smiled awkwardly, turning his face back to Frank’s. It was weird to see, but heartwarming at the same time. Maybe he was just one of those people who didn’t like to smile with his teeth, Frank hadn’t had many glimpses of Gerard’s teeth in the short time that he’d known him, but he thought there wasn’t anything wrong with them–other than his front teeth looking smaller than the average person’s.

It was nice to see Gerard smile–or at least try to–and act friendly. Frank hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with any stuck up assholes in his new place, and so far, Mikey and Gerard have been nice. Even though Gerard seemed awkward, Frank knew he was a sweet guy, he could feel it.

“Ew, dude, no! Gross!” Frank laughed, then his eyes dropped down to Gerard’s book. Gerard mindlessly dragged his fingertips along the wired spiral of it–it looked like a sketch book, just off the small corner, Frank could see a messy sketch of a hand.

“I’m just saying, I could do that if you want. All to make my presence more known to scaredy cats like you.” Gerard giggled again, not noticing where Frank’s eyes fell. Gerard seemed to open up more, his body relaxed into the couch much more than it was previously. All he needed was a small push in the right direction, a little joking got a smile on his face, Frank thought.

“Do you like to draw?” Frank gave his best smile, hoping the question wouldn’t make Gerard act shy once again, then he gestured to the book with a nod of his head.

Gerard’s eyes flicked around the room, as if Frank was talking to someone other than him, his smile faded into a half lifted one. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish out of water before he finally spoke. “U-Uh, well…yeah I do.” He said simply, pulling a few greasy black strands of hair behind his ear. The small nervous movement presented a better view of his face, he couldn’t help but let his eyes rest on Gerard’s pale round cheeks. He could only think that they were adorable and he had the strange urge to squish and poke them with the pads of his fingers.

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” His words left his mouth slow and smoothly, for some reason, talking to Gerard felt easy. Frank didn’t know why, but it just was. All of his attention was focused on Gerard, his yogurt in his hand completely forgotten. Gerard stammered a few more times before he settled on his next set of words–he looked embarrassed and you’d think he’d turn the slightest bit of pink, but he stayed pale, maybe a hit of pink under the dust of white.

“Eh, nothing much, y'know? It’s kinda weird–I’m not sure if you’d be into it.” He looked to the paper below him, his fingers bent and smoothed over the corners.

“Bullshit. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fucking awesome.” Frank then looked to Gerard’s door a couple feet behind them, various drawings and stickers covered the door, almost head to toe. Some drawings were of swords–which looked oddly similar to the swords Glamdring and Orcrist from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, others were doodles of small gnome looking things, then he went to a messy collection of Iron Maiden stickers plastered around the middle of the door.

“Look at your door! You’re fucking cool and your art most likely is too. I mean, Iron Maiden? Creepy gnome things?” His eyes blew wide, the excitement only spewing from them. “If you think that’s weird, then I’m the biggest fucking weirdo on this planet.” He absentmindedly scouched closer to Gerard. “A person's taste and interests show through what they create, at least that’s what my mom used to tell me. So if you like Iron-motherfucking-Maiden, then your art must be awesome.” He mumbled the last part more to himself rather than to Gerard.

Gerard looked at him with big eyes, “You–You listen to Iron Maiden?...” He thought for a second before adding, “And you like my gnomes?”

“Of course I listen to them, you should see my collection. It’s pretty cool if you ask me.” He raised his eyebrows smirking, then he suddenly remembered the small cold container in his hands and went back to swallowing mouthfuls of yogurt.

“I dunno. It’s something about the cracked glasses of that one,” Frank pointed a tattooed hand to the door, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gnome with glasses like that before.” He snorted.

“Well, it’s actually just supposed to be Mikey.” He spoke, a smile clearly playing about on his just barely pink lips. Why was Frank looking at those anyway?

“See, he broke his glasses about a year ago because he tripped over this big ass gnome statue, I mean it was pretty big–which was unnecessary if you ask me, cause who needs a gnome that big? Also maybe it was time for him to get his glasses fixed anyway, cause I could not tell you how he missed it in the first place.” Gerard suddenly went on and turned his body to face Frank. His knees weren’t pressed to his chest anymore, now they were more relaxed as his hands hung loosely from his ankles.

The change in demeanor surprised Frank. The same guy who seemed so closed off and cold was now talking to him as if they’ve known each other for years, his hands moved around fluidly and he spoke louder than he did before. He was such a weird guy. But Frank didn’t hate it, not at all. He enjoyed the way Gerard spoke, like he put all of his passion behind it–who knew the slight mention of his gnome brother would get him going like that.

“I wanted to make a comic about the little guy and his clumsy stupid life, but then I never got around to it because I started on this other comic–”

“What was the other one about?” Frank cut off Gerard’s rambling, the question came out so easily, he felt so intrigued by Gerard’s almost nonsensical words.

Gerard’s eyes flicked down to the floor for a brief second before he answered. “Just another one about Mikey. He was like this really cool warrior unicorn hybrid thing.” Black strands of hair fell into his face and he didn’t attempt to move them–as if he was trying to hide away–and he waited for Frank to speak.

“What? That’s fucking sick!” He smiled, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a combination like that,” Frank thought for a second, “No, I haven't.” His eyes met Gerard’s again–there was a sparkle hidden deep in his eyes, swimming in his warm hazel. Gerard’s eyes were wide and his lips were pressed in a tight line. “Who are you?” Gerard asked, a childish giggle following and his head held on a tilt.

“Frank Iero.” He laughed, returning the same confused look to Gerard.

“Anyways,” He sat his again forgotten yogurt cup on the coffee table in front of them and slid closer to Gerard, now he could smell him, he smelled musky. “Do you still have any drawings of that warrior in this book? Or is he long forgotten?” He lifted a finger to drag it along the spine of Gerard’s sketchbook still in his lap.

“No–Well, yeah I do. But they’re kinda old and definitely weren’t gonna be his final design.” Gerard grabbed the book and started to flip through pages–all of which were filled with amazing pencil sketches from what Frank’s eyes could catch. One looked like a very detailed yet cartoony gorilla.

“Here you go.” He simply placed the book into Frank’s lap without another word. The creature had the top half of Mikey Way, but the bottom half of a horse–or in this case, a unicorn. He had a horn coming from his forehead and a bullet proof vest on, a sword was clutched in his hand, and his chest was puffed out. He looked very brave, stoic even. The picture was absolutely ridiculous–but it felt as if it was supposed to be that way. It wasn’t supposed to be serious, it was supposed to be fun, silly, stupid. And Frank could see that through Gerard’s lines.

“This is actually…super cool.” He spoke in a whisper. “You’re really good at this drawing thing, aren’t you?” Frank said looking away from the page to him, he held on one side of the book while Gerard held the other. “I’ve been told that I’m pretty good. Mikey says my art is badass.” Gerard shifted in the couch’s cushion, his gaze flew up to Frank’s neck for a brief second before he seemingly forced them back to the page in front of them. Frank felt a shiver go through him, he’d expected to feel the heat radiating off of Gerard’s body from their closeness–but no, there was nothing but cold air between them. Cold comforting air.

“You should listen to Mikey. His glasses clearly work, so he knows good art when he sees it.” Frank smiled, ignoring the weird feeling that danced down his spine. Frank then lifted the book completely from Gerard’s hands before pausing his movements. “Do you mind if I went through this?” He took one page between his index and thumb, readying to turn it to the next.

Gerard stuffed his bottom lip between his front teeth, his top lip still hiding the bone. “I mean if you really wanna.” He leaned over, watching as Frank turned the page to a rough sketch of a dragon he must have drawn a while ago.

For the next hour or so, Gerard went off about various different drawings which all had their various different backstories and meanings. Frank laughed at some and died over others, seeing the pages of the sketchbook was like kind of getting a peek into Gerard’s mind. So far Frank thought that mind was a scary yet beautifully weird place to be.

“So, then Mikey ended up saying that the first design was better, but I was like ‘no, it’s definitely the third one, dude, trust me!’ But then I ended up going with the first one, cause y’know, it’s his fucking zombie character! I might as well just let him have what he wants!” They were on a page where Mikey was a zombie, all of his designs were fully colored and the gore on the page looked really good surprisingly.

See? A scary and weird place to be.

“You really do make a lot of stories about Mikey,” Frank laughed, his legs were tucked up on the couch and he had his shoulder pressed to Gerard’s. He realised not too long ago that he got pretty comfortable with Gerard pretty quick, it didn’t bother him one bit. “You love him, don’t you? You’re such a good brother, it’s awesome.” Frank gave him a smile, Gerard returning one as well. This time, his smile felt real, it was genuine. There was no pressing of his lips trying to hide away his teeth–Frank knew that the habit was small, but it was noticeable. Then suddenly, Frank saw something flash at the corner of his mouth, something that looked shiny and sharp. Even through the dim and yellowness of the lamp in the corner of the room, Frank couldn’t have missed it, and when he did see it, he couldn’t stop staring.

“Of course I do. He means more to me than I think he’ll ever know.” He laughed awkwardly, running pale fingers through his jet black hair and out of the way of his round face. Gerard obviously grew more comfortable with smiling, because his smile only became more and more toothy. Frank couldn’t help but to stare at the perfectly white object in his mouth, it looked sharper than any other normal person's canine tooth. But he must have been staring too hard.

Gerard’s eyes fell on Frank’s again when he gave no response, their eyes locked and that’s all that needed to be said–or rather not said at all. Gerard instantly tensed up, moving inches away from Frank. Frank wouldn’t say he felt colder from the loss of contact, just rather disappointed that he left. For whatever reason.

Gerard pressed his lips into a tight line, all of a sudden, Gerard seemingly looked at everything else except for Frank. He reached his hand out, gesturing to his book still in Frank’s hands. “I- Can I please have that back? I just realized, I didn’t get much sleep last night a-and I still have a comic strip to put together before its deadline.” His hair covered his eyes again, he looked like a scruffy mop dog.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, man,” Frank sat up, closing the book before handing it to him. It was the same as it was before when Frank began talking to him, his barriers were back up. He hugged the book to his chest before quickly standing up and turning away from Frank.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve gotta get some work done.” He rushed out each word so fast that it almost sounded like one whole word, before he moved quickly to his room, slamming the door behind him.

“Well…talk to you later?” Frank shrugged his shoulders. What a weird but interesting guy. Frank grabbed his empty yogurt container and sauntered over to the kitchen, tossing the spoon into the sink and the container into the trash, then he was off to his room.

He gently shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a brief second. Gerard was a weird guy. Really fucking weird, but he was also cool. So was he a good weird?...Yes, he’s a good weird. A cute weird some may even say.

Frank stepped off the door and over to his guitar that was propped up against the wall, he grabbed it and sat on his bed, holding it in his lap. He took another glance across his new room.

He’d have to ask Brian help him get the rest of his things from Bob’s place soon. He was missing a lot of things at the moment, like his amp, or his very important CD collection, or the things that genuinely made him feel like he was himself. The place felt too bare, he needed to make it his. He looked over to the digital clock on his dresser, it read 3:34pm. He wondered when the famous MikeyWay-of-many-creations would be back.

A warm feeling swam through him when he thought about Gerard’s art. His art was good and weird. Creepy weird, but good, just like him. Frank felt like he could get closer to him, if he tried hard enough.

Notes:

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and their interaction. It feels so silly, but I like it??? But does this feel like too much dialogue or is there no such thing?? I don't think there is. Tell me what ya think!!

I've came to the fantastic, amazing, wonderful, and spectacular conclusion that I'll be updating this thing every Sunday! I think I have a pretty strong backlog built up, soo look forward to that I guess??

Chapter 3: Missing Gaps

Summary:

Blood rituals?? Cool. Stolen Pop-Tarts?? Not so cool. Mr. Toro mentioned?? Really fucking cool. Gerard being...weirdly awkward?? What's new, lets be honest.

I think that sums up this chapter beautifully! ^_^ Enjoy their silly little interactions!!

“Wait, Wait. Gee, slow down. What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Mikes, this might have been a bad idea… I know you said we could use another set of hands to help pull the weight around here, but I think we could’ve found another way.”

“It’s only the second day that he’s been here. What happened that’s making you change your mind so quickly? Wait, don’t even answer that yet. Because before we even agreed to letting another person stay with us, you assured me you’d be fine. Remember what you said?”

“Yeah, Yeah I know–I know what I said. I t-thought–”

“You said you’ve been around people long enough to not wanna feed when you know you shouldn’t–for fuck sakes, you do just fine around me. So I put a lot of faith into that statement, y’know.”

“Mikey, I know what I said. Since I’ve changed it’s harder for me to forget things, even if I wanted to. It’s just that… I think he might be…different?”

Frank sat up in his bed, his hair a mess and spit going down the side of his face and–wait, where the fuck did his other sock go? Whatever. 

A sliver of gold light found its way under the door and shined its way onto the wall across from Frank. Looking around the partially dark room–his new warm blanket woven through his limbs–his throat felt undeniably dry. Only one thing on his mind. Water.

He stepped a foot on to the floor and then the other followed–without a sock on it for some reason–and made his way to the door slowly, rubbing at his eyes in the process, his blanket dragging behind him too. Then suddenly, he heard voices coming in from behind the door, they sounded far, but not too far. He stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes found his clock– 2:55 AM, it read. 

What the fuck. Were they on an adventure for water too?

He took another step to the door, trying to listen in–not for any particular reason, because he couldn’t care any less about what those voices were doing, but…he just wanted to know.

“Different? What the hell could that possibly mean?” The frustration in the man’s voice was evident–that voice sounded like it belonged to Mikey.

“I-I don’t know, but it feels like I can’t control myself, when–when he’s near me. It’s…hard to explain.” Another voice spoke–after hours of nonstop talking, Frank knew it was Gerard’s. There was a long pause, no one spoke. “Look. I know this is kind of stressful for you–it is for me too. Just forget I ever said anything. I can control it, it’s just…harder to.” 

“‘Kind of.’” The voice repeated, scoffing.

Another long pause.

“Just…promise me. You’ll be fine? I know you have control…just don’t be…stupid. If it’s something about his blood, you have to tell me, then we can just have him mo–”

Mikey suddenly stopped talking, Frank pushed his face against the door, suddenly more awake than he has ever been.

“Let’s just take this outside. Yeah?” Gerard said in a much lower voice, Frank almost didn’t catch it. 

“Uh, yeah, sure? You're starving tonight, aren’t ya?” Frank heard him say in a hushed giggle.

“Shut up. I’ll tell you later, let’s just go.”

There were a few more shuffles before Frank heard the click of the front door snapping shut. Okay, so that just happened. What were they talking about? Who were they talking about? Frank kicked his blanket off from his foot, it fell limply to the floor before he cracked the door open, peeking his head out as if someone may have been lurking around the corner. He slowly stepped out before picking up his pace towards the kitchen down the dimly lit hallway. The room felt oddly cold, Frank had almost forgotten about his previous mission. 

He grabbed a plastic bottle of water from the fridge, twisting it open, and he took a long swig. He looked around the room and noticed the beaten up old leather boots that Mikey usually wore–or at least all he had worn since Frank had known him–were gone. A few other pairs sat at the side of the door, but Frank hadn't seen Gerard wear any kind of shoes since he’d known him, so he couldn’t say if Gerard shoes were gone too. Did they actually leave? He stood still in silence for a few more seconds, before heading back to his room with his half empty bottle of water.

He couldn’t help but bury himself in his thoughts once he shut the door behind him. They were talking about blood and a “ he .” Why would Gerard have to “ have control” around this person? Why couldn’t he in the first place? 

Were they talking about Frank? 

So many questions swam around in his head, so many, but not enough answers. He picked his dog bone printed blanket up from the floor and moved towards his bed. Resting his head on his pillow, he placed his water next to him on the nightstand. 

What if the two brothers were in some cult? What if they wanted to use Frank for something fucked up? Like as a blood sacrifice for some sick and twisted ritual? Fucking Brian. 

Frank wrapped his blanket around him tight. No, he was probably overreacting. As odd as both brothers may seem, Frank could tell they were sweet guys…maybe he was misunderstanding them.

Plus, how fucking sick does a blood ritual sound anyway?

__________

Eventually, Brian did bring over the rest of Frank’s belongings from Bob’s place. All of his old CDs, amps, and the rest of his clothes–but he was used to wearing the same two pairs of pants anyway, so that didn’t change much. At this point, he’d been living with the Way brothers for about three weeks. Frank felt secure enough to think that the place felt more like himself now, like he was actually supposed to be there rather than some random person invading another’s space. Though he still got a strange feeling from Gerard that maybe that wasn’t true at all…maybe he was invading.

Frank tried to get closer to him–just as he had with Mikey–but he always seemed so hesitant. Frank was just finishing stacking some CDs into a small crate and onto a lower shelf in the corner of his room when he remembered the afternoon he spent with Gerard not too long ago. He enjoyed talking to Gerard about his amazing and weird art–he really did. It was so easy talking to him, if only he could do it again, but Gerard was making it so difficult–or was it something about himself that put Gerard off? Lost in his thoughts, he thought back to the night that occurred just a few short weeks ago.

Frank never ended up asking the brothers where they went that one night–or a few other nights in between that he could count–but those questions he kept at the very back of his mind, tucked away. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to ask just yet, maybe he was waiting for the right time. 

“You got some cool stuff in here,” Mikey spoke, breaking Frank out of his all consuming thoughts. He leaned against the door frame, pointing to a small stack of Black Flag CDs Frank had laid out messily across his dresser. “You’re taste in music is fucking awesome, Gerard even tells me you like Iron Maiden, too.” 

“Thank you, and yes, Gerard would be right. I fucking love Iron Maiden.” He subconsciously bounced on the balls of his feet once he stood up from the carpeted floor.

“Big music geek?” Mikey cocked an eyebrow.

“You fucking bet.” 

“You fit in just fine here.” Mikey smiled, before leaning back out into the small corridor, Frank following behind him. He couldn’t help but let that phrase linger in his mind longer than it should have. 

“ You fit in just fine here.” He wish he could feel the same way entirely.

In the living room, Gerard sat on the couch, the lamp beside him casting a yellow light onto his skin. Frank noticed that Gerard usually came out of his room late into the evening, either to draw or to talk to Mikey. Frank hardly saw him eat, the only thing the guy would have next to him was a cup of coffee and maybe some art supplies, nothing else. Gerard’s routine seemed pretty simple from an outside view. He’d stay locked in his room all morning until late in the afternoon, come out for a change of scenery for a few hours, then go right back in. Of course sometimes he’d go out with his brother–usually when Mikey didn’t have work that morning–in the dead of night. But y’know, that’s fucking normal.  

Frank also couldn’t help but to note that he was always so quiet in his room, sometimes music could be heard playing, but other than that, he was quiet. The curtains were completely pulled together, blocking any light and any sight of the balcony behind it.

“What are you drawing up now?” Frank quite literally bounced over to Gerard who was twirling his wooden pencil between his fingers. Gerard looked over his shoulder at Frank, then back to his rough sketch. “Nothing much…well, nothing at the moment. Just a mini storyboard.” He spoke quietly, then he glanced up at Mikey who stood in the kitchen digging around in a cabinet for something.

“You should show me one of your comics one day, I bet they’re sweet.” He beamed leaning over the back of the couch, very much sticking his nose into Gerard’s wide sketch book. Gerard gave him a shaky smile, then glanced over to Mikey again. If Frank knew any better, he’d assume it was a silent plea for help or something.

Mikey turned away from the cabinet–a more than half empty jar of coffee grounds in hand–and his eyes went wide for a quick second upon seeing Frank leaning over Gerard’s shoulder, peering into his book. He sat the jar down with a loud clunk, “Would you like some coffee, Frank?” He started twisting the top off as he presented a half strained smile.

“Yeah, a cup of that sounds fucking awesome. But are you sure? Looks like we’re running low.” He pushed himself away from the couch and away from Gerard, then walked into the kitchen and leaned against the cold counter instead. “It’s fine, I guess I’ll just have to go out and buy more sometime today.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Mikey turned to the fridge and opened it, sticking his head inside. 

“Looks like I’ll have to buy a few things… It’s about time to go shopping for actual food, not just for coffee and strawberry Pop-Tarts.” he slammed it shut again, turning back to the coffee. 

“What’s wrong with coffee and strawberry Pop-Tarts?” Frank asked as he ripped open said Pop-Tart.

“Nothing wrong with them at all, Frank. It’s just that we can’t live off of them alone. You know that–at least I hope you do.” His voice held less emotion than it did before, but Frank could tell that the statement was supposed to be insulting, then he snatched one of Frank’s frosted pastries from his hands. 

“Hey! For a person who doesn’t like them, I don’t know why you took mine. And who says we can’t live off ‘em?” He curled his hands into fist, slamming them against the counter. 

“Firstly, I never said I didn’t like them. Secondly you know why we can’t.” He stared him dead in the eyes as he took slow bites of his Pop-Tart. Frank was sad to see his sweet, strawberry buddy go into the stomach of someone that wasn’t him.

“Mikey, don’t be mean.” Gerard seemingly appeared at the side of Frank from thin air. Frank felt his heart stop for a second. 

“You really like doing that don’t you?” Frank cut his eye at Gerard, a smile playing about his lips nonetheless.

“I don’t try to, I’m sorry,” The smile on his face didn’t appear as though he was sorry, more as if he found it to be funny. “Anyway, Mikey, don’t be so mean to Frank.” He gave his brother’s shoulder a light push. 

“I’m not being mean. He can go with one less Pop-Tart in his life, he’ll be fine .” Mikey stuck his hands out in front of him, palms up in a defensive manner. 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Gerard said, running his fingers through his greasy looking hair. His pale skin made the black hair strands stand out boldly, Frank liked the way his hair laid over his forehead. The words Gerard spoke finally sunk into both Mikey and Frank. 

“What?” They both said in unison, turning to look at the guy. “What are you talking about then?” Mikey said alone.

“I mean, listen, what if there are a species out there in the universe that can live solely off of coffee and Pop-Tarts? Pretty cool, right?” He smiled as wide as he could with his lips still squeezed together. Mikey’s mouth fell agape, his eyebrows knitted together tightly, while Frank could only smile. “What I’m saying is don’t be mean to him by being so closed minded. The universe holds so many possibilities.”

“See, Gerard gets it.” Frank gave a shit eating grin to Mikey as he stared between the two. “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.” Mikey tried to hide his smile, but his attempt did nothing for him.

Sometimes, Gerard would ramble on to Frank for at least an hour, but that was rare–sometimes he’d even joke with him like he did now–and others he’d be so closed off. So Frank liked when Gerard acted stupid, it wasn’t very often–around him at least–but he still liked the times when he showed that side of him. Also because it pissed off Mikey–okay, it doesn’t really piss him off, but it makes him smile. Frank was sure both him and Gerard liked to see that. 

He also found himself liking the few times when Gerard would smile with his weird little front teeth–even the two abnormally sharp ones he always tried–and miserably failed–to keep tucked away. He also liked the way he continuously ran his hands through his hair when he was nervous. But those are just a few things that he just so happened to find cute about Gerard.

“I guess Gerard does ‘ get it ’,” Mikey huffed, returning to his impassive resting face. “Let’s see when we all get our next paycheck for groceries.” He leaned on the counter across from Frank. 

“I’ll be getting paid a hefty sum by the end of this week after finishing up a song for this video game, plus, I’ll be playing a gig soon too.” Frank pulled his lip ring into his mouth, letting his teeth move around with it. “I’ll put that money in to help with food and more Pop-Tarts. We’ll be good, don’t worry too much, Mikes.” He took another bite of his half eaten Pop-Tart, peering over to Gerard. Gerard stared back at him, his eyebrows slightly knitted. “Playing a gig?” He repeated back to him, one of his hands reached up to the tips of his hair, twisting and playing with the strands between his index and thumb. Another thing Frank found to be pretty cute. 

“Yeah, ‘ playing a gig ’,” He giggled, “Did you not see the guitars and amps me and Brian carried in here the other day?” Gerard only stared at him, that told Frank all he needed to know. “Dude, you’re always buried in your sketchbook, you never realize what’s going on around you.” He cocked an eyebrow at the taller man, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. The confused look on Gerard’s face was also pretty cute–he should probably stop listing off all the things he found cute about Gerard… Then suddenly, a light bulb lit up over his head.

“What if you two came?!” He shot up from his slouching position on the counter. 

“What?” Mikey shot up after him, looking at Gerard. He looked as if he was asking him if he had heard the same thing through some weird brother language. They would do that a lot actually–they’d speak with their eyes and eyebrows–and Frank could barely understand what the hell they were doing half of the time, it was a weird thing to witness.

“Geez, you two are acting as if I asked you what the color of your underwear is,” He waved them both off. “I’m just saying, I’d be able to get you two into the spot for free easily and I want you guys to come. As my friends you’ve fucking gotta.” He circled his hands in the air, smiling. 

“Friends?” Gerard repeated quietly, so quietly Frank might not have been able to hear him if he hadn’t already been waiting for a reply.

“Yeah? Duh, come on, Gerard. What do you think this is?” He wrapped an arm around his shoulders–of course Gerard was taller than him, so he had to reach slightly–and shook him gently. “Of course you and Mikey are my friends, why wouldn’t you be? Would you rather us be enemies?” He laughed, earning a nervous giggle from the taller man. 

“No, I wouldn’t wanna be your enemy. I-I don’t know why, I just had to question it. Forget I said anything.” Gerard slightly leaned into the touch, his bottom lip pouting.

“You don’t have to question anything, you and Mikey are my friends.” Frank tried his best to present his sweetest smile, he could feel Gerard’s hair tickling his forearm at the back of his neck.

“Yes, of course. You’re pretty cool and I like cool.” Gerard laughed softly, finally meeting the other man’s gaze, one that he was seemingly trying to avoid before.

“Cool? You think I’m cool?” Frank stared back at him, Gerard’s face was hard to see because of his curtain of hair, but his skin being so pale, it was easy to make out the round shape of it. “I accept the compliment with grace.” He gave a slight nod.

 Then Gerard cut his eye to Mikey–who was only staring back at them, as if he was on edge, as if he was waiting for something. Frank could’ve sworn he saw a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his forehead.

“And I think you’re pretty weird–both of you are. But I fuck with weird.” He felt the skin of his arm touching Gerard start to grow cold, but he ignored it and laughed anyway. 

“You fuck with weird? What does that even–”

“Okay! We’ll go.” Mikey suddenly spoke up, seemingly not meaning to cut Gerard off. “When is it?” He asked in short, fast words.

“Yes! I knew it wouldn’t take you too long to think it over!” Frank pumped a fist into the air, squeezing Gerard into a little side hug before letting him go completely. Once he stepped away from Gerard and back towards Mikey, he couldn’t help but to rub his hand over the skin of his arm, attempting to warm it up. It was cold to the touch and it made goosebumps go up his neck. “It’s Saturday night, the show starts at 11.” Frank watched as Mikey took another shaky bite from his Pop-Tart–the one that was once Franks before he stole it. 

Mikey looked to Gerard, and he looked back. They were doing that weird brother telepathy thing again. Needless to say, it was interesting to see–weird, but interesting. Frank looked between the two, patiently waiting for them to finish their silent press conference. 

“Okay, sure. We can go.” Mikey said, still holding eye contact with Gerard, before it shifted back to Frank. 

“Nice! Oh, that makes me even more pumped!” Frank felt bolts of electricity shoot through him, he couldn’t help but to feel excited–and why shouldn’t he be? He’s going to be able to show off his skills to two new people he has grown to be fond of–one of them being a cute guy. Hell, he should be shooting through the roof right now. “That makes me wanna go practice some more.” He squeezed his hands into fist on top of the counter, he nails digging into his palms. 

“You’re already pretty good, man.” Mikey spoke, his face seemed to be more relaxed than before. 

“I’ve heard you practicing a few times before, I just don’t know how Gee here hasn’t.” He laughed looking over to his older brother, earning a pale middle finger from the guy. “Whatever. I’m going back to my room.” Gerard gave in to his closed lipped smile and walked back into the living room. He collected all of his art supplies that were spread out on the coffee table before cracking his door open and disappearing into the pitch black room. 

Frank could never catch a glimpse into Gerard’s room, he wasn’t an extremely nosey person, but it still bothered him in some sort of way. He's even peeked into Mikey’s room a few times, but Gerard’s door remained shut at all times. Maybe he was just a super private guy.

“Drama queen,” Mikey muttered, then he stared at the counter for a bit–rather he wasn’t staring, but he was thinking, his eyes just so happened to land there.

“Y’know, you’re somewhat like another friend Gee and I have.” He finally decided on saying, speaking softly. “He’s one of the most hard working people I’ve ever met and y’know, he plays guitar too and he’s really fucking good at it.” He smiled, he had a reminiscent look to his eyes.

“Oh, really? You think he’s better than me?” He cocked an eyebrow, only teasing. He thought to at least try to lighten the mood a bit, Mikey looked kind of sad at this mystery guy’s mention. 

“What? No-No, don’t make me do that! I could never choose, you’re both really fucking good. Certainly better than me on any guitar.” He laughed, small lines pulling at the corners of his eyes. 

“Okay! I wasn’t being serious!” He took pride in being able to make Mikey smile, even if it was only slightly. “What’s the guy’s name? You should invite him to the show too, whoever you want, really. More the damn merrier, we’re all just looking to have some fun, right?”

“His name’s Ray. And eh, yeah, about that. Gee and I haven’t talked to him in a…bit. For a few reasons.” He rested back against the counter, his expression was flat and almost deflated, but it still held up its blank touch around the edges. 

“Were they good reasons?” He whispered–not in a secretive way, but in a calming hushed tone.

“No… We kinda…just cut him off?” He questioned, as if not being able to find the right words. “He did nothing wrong. Just us.” Mikey winced, almost as if it hurt for him to admit. Frank listened attentively, leaning his chin into his palm. 

“B-But all I’m saying is that you remind me of him in a weird sort of way–that’s all! Like I’m not trying to just dump this shit on you like you’re my therapist or something!” He quickly pushed out, as though he realized what was spewing out of his mouth and held his hands out in front of them.

“No, it’s all good. I’m glad I could remind you of him in a weird way ,” He offered a warm smile. “Maybe, I’m a great big sign telling you and Gerard to connect back with your old friend, yeah? Call ‘em up and introduce me to him. Since you say we’re similar, he must be pretty fucking cool.” He smirked smugly.

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe you are a sign because you’re so cool, awesome, and all-knowing, right?” Mikey perked up, moving away from the kitchen and into the living room, picking up a remote. 

“You bet your ass I am.” He followed behind him, standing as Mikey sunk into the couch, pressing a button to turn the TV on. 

“Shut up, Frank.” He lifted his feet to rest on the table, crossing them at the ankles, and he stopped to think for a quick moment. “I… I think I will call him–just gotta talk with Gee about it first. It’s been awhile.”

“Whatever you gotta do, man. I’m gonna go practice a bit and make some money for more Pop-Tarts, before you eat them all.” Frank scoffed, turning his back to Mikey and starting towards his room.

“Eat them all?” He repeated, sounding offended. “How have I eaten them all?”

“You stole mine, or did you forget?” He disappeared into his room, making sure to leave the door cracked open at least slightly. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He laughed, the sound of the TV starting to play throughout the apartment, soon it’d be a mix of that and the sound of Frank plucking away at strings on his beloved guitar.

He shut his room door behind him, grabbing his white guitar by its neck before he sat on his bed. Frank's mind could only drift back to one thing, no matter how long ago it seemed to be. He could only think of the cold, softness of Gerard’s neck and his lingering scent, it never seemed to leave his nose. Gerard had an alluring, earthy scent–like coffee and paper, it was weird, but Frank fucked with weird, he loved weird. He wanted his weird smell under his nose again, and all of a sudden he couldn’t focus on his guitar anymore. Not only was Gerard weird, but he also had a weird effect on Frank–and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

Notes:

I feel like this chapter is a bit shorter than I liked for it to be.. But! I still like it and had so much fun writing it, so I hope you had just as much fun reading it as well?? Let me know!! ^_^
The next chapter is pretty hefty sooo, see ya next Sunday! :P

Chapter 4: The Heat Resides With Him

Summary:

Two brothers walk into a bar...I don't know. I don't got a joke for ya! Sorry! >;] But two brothers /do/ walk into a bar during this chapter!

Notes:

hehe this was so much fun to write, nothing more to be said. Enjoy!!

Maybe Gerard likes to draw scorpions now, like a lot of them. Scorpions that just so happen to have three legs on one side of its body, but four on the other. Maybe that same scorpion never changes its position, stuck in one place until the end of time–or at least until the skin that it rests on perishes. But Gerard didn’t want to think about that, not now.

Gerard sat on the carpeted floor of his room, random dirty clothes sitting around him, along with random art supplies. He sat there sketching the same thing he had been sketching for the past week. The same old scorpion, over and over. Okay, maybe that isn’t all there was to it. Maybe the scorpion belonged to someone, inked into their skin, the dark ink stained into the cream color of their neck. His neck. 

Maybe Gerard was officially crazy now? 

He sunk his fang into his bottom lip, determined to perfect the last line of the beautiful scorpion, then the last curve of his jawline. Then the curves of his lips, the arch of his eyebrows, maybe a few more hair strands to frame the scorpion too–oh, and the shine of his lip piercing!

He pulled the sketchbook in front of him, stretching it arm's length and he stared at it, turning it a few different angles. He wished he could get a better look at him–wished he could capture every detail laid out in front of him instead of relying on his memory. Sure, his memory was good, but he wanted to capture every aspect of him. Not just the ones he looked at briefly. Gerard reached beside him, dragging another sketch to his side. Then he held it up, comparing the two. So what if he liked to draw Frank? There was nothing wrong with that. It’s not his fault that he’s so drawable and it wasn’t creepy, was it?

Frank had moved in about three weeks ago and it wasn’t until last week Gerard decided that it wouldn’t do too much harm if he just drew him from time to time. He liked to draw things he found to be interesting, pretty, and complex. He liked to draw him when he took breaks from working on his comic, or when he was bored. Lately, he found himself taking more breaks than usual and he became bored easily, therefore his sketches of Frank began to pile up. But it was fine, he could stop if he really wanted to.

A soft knock came at his door, making him jump slightly. If he wasn’t so distracted by his sketches, he would’ve heard it coming.

“Gee?” Mikey spoke, his shadow standing still under the door.

“U-Uh, yeah!” He called, quickly closing his sketchbook and tucking away a few more pieces of paper that just so happened to have Frank's likeness drawn onto them, then he scrambled to his feet just as Mikey cracked the door open. “Are you still coming out to see Frank and his band play? I think he said they’re called Pencey…Pencey something, I forgot.” He said simply, his face as flat as usual. Gerard looked his younger brother up and down, Mikey wore what he normally wore on nights when they went out, nights like this he supposed–ripped jeans and some random, flashy band-tee.

“Oh shit, s-sorry. I got completely distracted, I’ll get dressed right now, Mikes.” He said, starting to pick clothes off the floor, sniffing each piece and hoped they didn’t smell too much like death. 

“Maybe we could use this as a chance to get you something to eat while we’re at it,” He smiled. “Two birds with one stone, huh?”

“Shut up, we’re just going out to support a friend. And if I do end up finding someone, then so be it, but I wouldn’t wanna just turn this into an opportunity to feed.” Gerard laughed weakly as he continued to scavenge across his floor for clean-ish clothes.

“Why not? I think it’d be more fun than just going out, waiting for you, and then coming back here, even on nights when I have to work come morning.” He leaned his head against the doorframe, voice monotone. Gerard felt his stomach sink slightly.

“So what, are you saying you’re getting tired of it? Of me? I didn’t know you hated it so much.” He paused his movements, turning to face Mikey. 

“No, not at all. I’m just saying it’d be more fun for me–”

“Well, it’s not always fun for me either.” He cut sharply. “I just need to eat, so I have to. And I’d rather do it that way instead of just randomly attacking some poor person who wouldn’t have seen it coming. I’d rather the person have some choice in the matter.” He turned his attention back to the floor, he didn’t want this to turn into an argument.

“You get laid, Gee. How bad could that possibly be?”

“And you don’t? Don’t forget that one time when you didn’t come back home until late in the afternoon,” Gerard chuckled, the air around them lifting. “I had to fucking walk back here. Asshole.”

“Gerard.” He huffed, furrowing his eyebrows, yet a smile still appeared on his face. “All I’m trying to say is that it would be fun to go out with someone other than just us two, y’know, maybe actually let people back into our fucking lives…” He spoke, he looked like he had something else to say, but he held back. Gerard could read how his brother felt. “What is it, Mikey?” He stepped closer to him, his eyebrows knitted together.

“I miss Ray. I honestly hate that we don’t talk to him anymore.” He admitted quickly, like he was determined to say what he wanted to and without any regret. Gerard froze, looking down towards the floor, as if it held any answers for what he could say next. “U-Uh, well…o-okay.” He said, then they both went quiet. 

What else could he say? They cut Ray off a while back to protect him, not because they wanted to. Fuck, Gerard missed the guy just as much as Mikey had. He was no stranger to the feeling of losing a friend, they both had known him for so long. “Gee,” He placed an arm on his shoulder. “I think we should call him, at least that, yeah?” He had a pleading look in his eyes, his grip on his shoulder firm but gentle.

Gerard had so many thoughts running around in his skull, he wouldn’t want his best friend of so many years to see him as some monster. Truth is he was scared. The only one who knew was Mikey and he was fucking terrified for Frank to find out, but even so, that’s why he tried to keep his distance from him. Mikey gave him another squeeze, pulling him out of his thoughts, he always seemed to know when Gerard was drowning in them. Gerard looked down at his hands, still clinging onto some random shirt, he was shaking. 

“I think it’ll be okay. We have a whole fucking roommate, if we can let him in, we can let in an old friend. Right?” He looked at him with pleading eyes, he must’ve been thinking this over for awhile. Fuck, he had more time to think than Gerard felt as though he had himself. Gerard wasn’t sure, he was scared.

“Okay, I guess we can…call him up.” 

“Yes! Gerard, I swear, it’ll be okay! I promise!” Mikey quickly stepped forward and pulled him into a tight hug. Gerard was glad breathing wasn’t a necessity, if it was, Mikey would be cutting off all of his air flow. “I swear, you’re still the same old Gerard. You’re just…a little less alive and cold. But hey! You’re still just as pale, at least that didn’t change, right?” He shook him in his arms, Gerard let his body swing limply. This probably wasn’t a good idea, but whatever made Mikey happy. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m still ‘the same old Gerard’!” He said sarcastically, patting Mikey on the back lightly. “Okay, I need to get dressed right? So let me.” Gerard pushed away, laughing. 

“Alright, I leave you to it now, I’m sorry!” He smiled. “Frank should be waiting for us at the bar by now, we need to get going, like soon.” 

“Then lemme get dressed! You want me to eat tonight, right? So I gotta get pretty, go!” He pushed him through the door and slammed it behind him, laughing.

“Alright! I’ll wait for you in the car!” Mikey called through the door.

Gerard settled on a pair of black jeans that were a few sizes too small for him, a dingy jean jacket over a fairly tight band t-shirt, and a pair of old combat boots that screamed to be put out of their misery. Just before he walked out of his cluttered room, he turned around and grabbed a stick of eyeliner, then smeared it around his eyes. He was going to go see Frank play a show, he suddenly remembered, like actually going to go see him perform. A shiver went down his spine. Then he quickly grabbed a small eyeshadow palette off of his cluttered desk and with his finger, he smeared a shiny purple color over his eyes, further smearing the black eyeliner too. He wasn’t sure exactly how he looked since he couldn’t simply look at his reflection in a mirror, but he did it enough times as a human, he knew what he was doing to some extent. Then he went out to meet Mikey.

*****

Gerard stepped through the doors, following close behind Mikey. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes hit them both like a brick wall, but they were both used to it by now after all the bars they had been to–the smell being awful, but oddly familiar and welcoming.

“I think they should be going up next!” Mikey leaned into him, yelling over the loud music. The place was small and filled to the brim with hot, sweaty bodies, all of which moved around in reckless waves. Gerard's eyes left his brother’s back and moved up on to the stage, a group of four people played on stage. The lead vocalist of the band let an earth shattering screech erupt from his throat and it traveled through the air. Gerard couldn’t help but to bob his head to the heavy metal music as it scratched against his ears in the best ways possible. Gerard looked back to Mikey and he was smiling a bit, bobbing his head. The two brothers stood at the back of the bar looking on at the sea of heads, suddenly Gerard felt a sharp elbow strike him at his side, practically throwing him into Mikey.

“Shit! Watch where the fuck you’re going, man!” Mikey shouted over the loud music to the guy who practically assaulted them while moving his hands to Gerard’s shoulders to help steady him. “Fuck, that hurt.” Gerard hissed, just as he did, the pain began to fade just as quickly as it had come. Then he looked over to the dirty looking blonde. 

“Sorry! Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to, just got a little carried away.” He smiled, then pushed a man next to him, Gerard assumed that guy helped in the assault. “You ‘kay?” The blonde said quickly and Gerard simply nodded. He didn’t like too much confrontation, so the faster they could get this over with the better. Then the two men walked back out into the pit, laughing as they got swallowed by the crowd. 

“Geez, even moshers have better etiquette than that. I mean, we’re standing at the very back. Clearly we don’t wanna get pushed around.” Mikey scowled, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose and crossed his arms. “Have you ever tried moshing?” Gerard cocked his head to the side and stared at Mikey, waiting for his answer. “Eh, the idea sounds sick, but it’s also…too much for me. I don’t know I just think–” He spoke, looking out to the crowd instead of at Gerard before he cut himself off. “Why the hell is that your first thought?” He turned his neck to look at Gerard, squinting his eyes and his lips pulled into a thin line. “You could call those guys assholes with me or just simply agree with what I said, but no, it’s that.” Confusion written all over his face, but a smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I swear you let things go way too easily sometimes.”

“Or maybe you just hold on to things for way too long sometimes.” Gerard laughed, letting the tips of his fangs show just a bit–no one was looking at him, so who cares?

“Shut up.” He laughed, his face completely disregarding all previous confusion and gave in to his growing smile. “Shit! There they are!” Mikey released his hands from his elbows and placed one on Gerard’s shoulder, then he shook him roughly. He pointed up to the stage, Gerard followed his finger to find Frank standing in the middle of the small stage, four other men standing behind him. From where they were standing, it looked like they were doing a quick sound check. After a few minutes, Frank spoke into the mic, his voice slightly scratchy.

“Hey, mother fuckers!” He shouted, the smile on his face looked like it hurt. “It’s nice to see some new and old faces! It really is, I thank every single one of you for making it out tonight! And we’re gonna give you all a show that’ll make that ten dollars fucking worth it.” He looked behind him to the other guys, as if he was asking if they were ready before he turned back to the mic. “Okay, we’re Pencey Prep and this first song is P.S. Don’t Write!” He spoke quickly, then his tattooed hands dropped down to his white guitar.

Gerard’s eyes were glued to the man on the stage, his movements and his voice felt oddly alluring. He sang with power, some lyrics of the song were rough, painful-like shouting while others were sung with a soft soothing melody–all just before returning back to its violent and rugged nature. His body moved like he was full of energy, a never ending beautiful ocean of sporadic alluring energy. Every once in a while, he sang a few lines into his mic before he pulled away and somehow traveled all the way to the other side of the stage, then all the way back in a matter of seconds to sing the next set. Frank was all over the place, messy with his vocals, his movements–but that’s what made it look and feel so beautiful. Frank looked free up there, and just observing him made Gerard feel free too, like he could do anything. Like he was just the same as the other people around him–it was weird, how could someone’s energy make him feel like that?

“Mikey! We should get up closer!” Gerard leaned into him, pointing his thumb to the sea of thrashing bodies–Frank and his band seemed to be having an effect on everyone, Gerard couldn’t say he was surprised at all.

“You sure?!” Mikey’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah! I think it’d be fun!” Gerard grinned before grabbing Mikey by his arm, then practically dragged him towards the middle of the floor. People were jumping around and shoving each other into any other body they could seem to find, but Gerard couldn’t care as he stood staring up at the stage. Frank looked like he was glowing, sweat shining on his forehead and his lip ring caught the yellow lights at all the right angles. His face was slightly flushed and some strands of his hair stuck to the sides of his face and neck. Gerard felt a knot in his stomach begin to grow. Fuck, Frank looked really good up there. He was made for the stage, he was meant to be up there, shining like one of the most beautiful stars Gerard had ever seen. Gerard couldn’t do anything but smile like an idiot.

Then Frank's eyes met with Gerard’s in the crowd–through the sea of eyes–hazel met with hazel.

“I know I should run, I know I should run, I know I should…” He continued to sing, his voice scratchy, but soothing. He grinned as his eyes never seemed to leave Gerard’s–Gerard knew he was going crazy now. The knot in his stomach seemed to grow bigger and he felt hot–even as a fucking dead monster, he felt unbelievably hot. All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe, but when the fuck did he ever need to do that? He didn’t know, he just had to move–somewhere, anywhere.

“Uh, M-Mikey, I’mma…I’m gonna go get a drink.” Gerard looked to his side where Mikey was supposed to be. Instead, his younger brother lingered over to some curly haired chick, he smiled at her like some smitten fool. Great, so he was busy. 

Gerard rolled his eyes, then began working his way past a few wet bodies–either all the wetness was from sweat, or it was from spilled booze, Gerard hoped it wasn’t anything else. Finally, he threw himself down onto a leather stool, resting his head into one of his hands. He took a few deep breaths, even though it wasn’t needed, he still found it to be a calming habit. And right now he really needed to calm the fuck down, he shut his eyes and the image of Frank played over and over against the darkness of his eyelids. His tousled hair, his sweaty neck, paired with the way his hands and fingers moved along the neck of his guitar–it all made Gerard feel so unbelievably hot, and the growing stiffness in his pants wasn’t helping his case at all. 

“Fuck…” He hissed, tapping his foot off the sticky floor. He planted both elbows into the counter and let his head rest into the palm of his hands, he needed to get a grip. Then suddenly, he sensed someone sitting next to him, their heat radiating off them. 

“Hey,” The voice sounded like a man’s. Something sick inside of Gerard hoped for a split of a second that it was Frank, but then he realized Pencey was still up, so he threw those hopes out of the window. Gerard looked up to see the same blondie who bumped into him earlier.

“I just thought I should apologize, again. For earlier.” He spoke as if Gerard had forgotten about the whole thing already, maybe he did though, Frank was just that mesmerizing. “I feel like the small apology from earlier wasn’t enough, ‘cause your…what is he? Your…boyfriend?” He questioned, his eyes half lidded, he looked high. 

“No, he’s my brother.” Gerard said, lifting his head to get a good look at the guy. His golden, dirty hair was down past his shoulders, a stubble growing at his chin and traveled down his neck. Gerard didn’t think he was too bad looking, maybe he could use him to his advantage and do as Mikey asked. “All single here.”

The guy blinked stupidly a few times and he leaned into Gerard. “Oh, okay. Cool. Cool.” He nodded. “I was trying to talk to you, but that guy is kinda scary.” He spoke slowly, laughing to himself. The thought of Mikey being scary , made him laugh, Mikey was a sweetheart. 

“Uh, could–could I buy you a drink? To apologize.” He leaned into Gerard, he certainly smelled like weed. “Yeah, go for it.” Gerard waved his hand. The guy ordered two shots, then passed one over to Gerard who took it straight down in one swallow as soon as he got his cold hands onto the glass. The burn of the liquor traveled all the way down his throat, though he was glad yet disappointed all the same that that was all the feeling he could get from drinks now. He drank coffee because it made him feel warm inside, and because he was too afraid to let it go–liquor though, he only drank it when he went out on nights like this–mainly to feel that same burn. Those days where he would get plastered were all behind him now, a bittersweet goodbye it was.

“You a good drinker?” The guy beside him spoke, twirling his own glass between his fingers. Gerard shifted in his seat, his pants still feeling uncomfortable. “I guess you could say so.” Gerard made sure to flutter his lashes, just for the hell of it. 

“Oh, okay. That’s hot. You’re like, kinda hot.” He spoke, slurring a bit. Gerard couldn’t help but laugh, the guy had not one ounce of shame in his voice, but he hadn’t really expected him to anyway. Gerard had come across dudes like him before, some more straight forward and brave, but nonetheless, he was the same–just a guy looking for something quick, or just to be touched, or just to try something new. Gerard had no problem giving that to those who peaked his interest, all for a small price.

“Is that so?” Gerard smirked, letting his sharp teeth glint from under his lips. The guy's eyes widened just a bit once he looked down to Gerard’s lips, he squeezed his eyes shut a few times before he opened them again. “Y’know, I’m a guy, right? You’re okay with that?” Gerard had been mistaken for a woman a few times, some dudes even walked away from him looking embarrassed. Those moments were always the funniest to him. “Shit. You are?” His eyes widened again, then he finally drank from the glass in his hand. 

“Yup.” Gerard laughed, the look on his face priceless.

“Damn…That’s freaky, dude. Really fucking freaky.” He shook his head, staring ahead of him. “You’re still hot though.” He turned his head back to him, his body close to Gerard’s, way too close to look like just two guys hanging out. Suddenly, Gerard became hyper aware of that fact. What if Frank could see them from the stage? For some reason, that made Gerard panic, and he didn’t like the feeling–or more like he couldn’t understand why he felt like that. 

“Hey, why don’t we head to the bathroom? Is that okay?” Gerard whispered as the music in the room began to die down. Pencey Prep was wrapping up and if Gerard didn’t wanna starve for the next three days, he’d have to go somewhere with this guy fast. 

“U-Uh, yeah, sure.” He said back, nodding profusely. Gerard got up and started waving his way through people, the crowd simmering down, he didn’t need to look back to know the man was following behind him.

*****

“This good?” Gerard spoke against his neck, breathing heavily. 

“Yeah,” He rasped, grinding against Gerard’s thigh. The rough texture of both of their pants couldn’t have felt amazing, but he seemed as though he could take what he could get.

The slightly taller man–the one Gerard still hadn’t got the name of–had him pinned against the bathroom stall, the space was cramped and a bit uncomfortable, but Gerard had been in worse places. He lifted Gerard up with a huff, sandwiching him between his chest and the forest green stall door, Gerard hooked his legs around his waist and shoved an arm between them, then began to work at the other man’s belt between their hips. He wrapped a cold hand around the tip of his dick and began to stroke him in fast short movements.

“Shit,” He hissed. “You’re hands are pretty fucking cold,” He buried his face into the crook of Gerard’s neck, he smelled sweaty and anything but good.

 “I’m close, I-I guess you can do that freaky thing now.” He said in strangled moans. Gerard figured he’d last a bit longer, but it was whatever.

Just before they had entered the stall, Gerard bared his teeth to him, proving the glint he saw earlier wasn’t just his imagination. At first, he was put off, but then Gerard explained how he wouldn’t bite him if he didn’t want him too–he also explained how it could even feel good depending on what you like. And that was all it took, no extra persuading or any deals that were to be made. This guy was probably going to get himself killed one day considering how damn easy-going he was, but Gerard wouldn’t be the one to do it, he promised himself he wouldn’t ever do anything like that to anybody.

Gerard licked a strip up the guy’s neck–as if to put him at ease–and then slowly sank his teeth into his flesh. His warm blood streamed quickly into his mouth, he tasted tarty, and he scrunched his nose up a bit. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but at least it was something. “Ah, that feels weird…this is really fucking crazy.” He groaned into the shell of his ear.

Gerard gave a few good last tugs before he slowly pulled his fangs back out of his skin. He leaned his head back onto the graffiti covered stall door, savoring the unique taste on his tongue. When his hand stopped its movement, the guy started to thrust up into his hand himself, grunting as he chased his own release. Gerard picked his head back up and started to move his hand again, meeting the guy's reckless thrust into his fist, his other hand digging into the guy's shoulder for support. Gerard licked over the two red holes on his neck, helping them to close up seamlessly.

“Come on, cum for me. I know you can.” Gerard whispered, rubbing a thumb over his head at each stroke. At the simple words of encouragement, he came all over his hand. “F-Fuck!” His hips stuttered before coming to a stop, but Gerard continued to pump him slowly, letting him ride out his orgasm. The next few seconds were quiet, with only the exception of his panting, Gerard’s humming, and of course, Frank’s voice outside still yelling out to the crowd that they’d finally be playing their last song–the noise out there muffled to the two men's ears.

Frank’s face flashed into his memory. He shouldn’t be thinking of him now of all times? It wasn’t the time to think of his roommate, not while he was with some other guy– especially not while he was with some other guy. Gerard buried the thought of Frank’s face and his stupidly hot neck tattoo at the back of his mind–although he knew he would dig it back up later–and focused his attention back to the guy in front of him. 

Gerard dragged his tongue over one of his fangs and then across to the other, then around his lips, making sure to lick up every ounce of blood that may have seemed to lose its way to Gerard's mouth. He then leaned in towards the man's neck and licked over the two dots that were sure to bruise when this guy got home–or to wherever he belonged in the morning.

He lowered Gerard back down to his feet slowly, his movements a bit messy and his forehead pressed to the stall door beside Gerard’s head as he continued to catch his breath.

“Did I hurt you at all?” Gerard questioned, taking the liberty to stuff the guy back into his pants and zipping him up, just as he was before they clumsily stepped into the stall. “N-No. Shit, that actually did feel pretty good.” His blonde, greasy hair tickled the side of Gerard’s face, the smell of weed filling his nose. 

“‘S good that I’m high right now,” He chuckled. “I probably wouldn’t have gone through with this if I wasn’t. Is this even fucking real?” He leaned back to look Gerard in the eyes. Gerard couldn’t help but to laugh and place a quick peck to the guy's cheek. “As real as you want it to be.” He smiled, beginning to open the stall door and stepping out, the blonde man stumbling out behind him. “You don’t want me to return the favor?” 

Gerard usually didn’t like to play with his ‘ food ’ for too long, he always thought even getting to feed from them had been enough. He never wanted any ‘ favors ’ to be returned. Although he was still semi-hard behind the rough zipper of his tight jeans–Gerard didn’t necessarily feel like it was because of the man in front of him.

“No, it’s okay. You already gave me something, sweetheart.” He sweet talked him a bit, then grazed his thumb over his neck, feeling bad for a split second. 

“Oh, alright. Fine with me.” He shrugged, then quickly left the bathroom, leaving Gerard standing there frozen for a moment. He just left–so abruptly. Gerard supposed it was better than him lingering and attached to him like a lost puppy for the rest of the night–or worse, asking for his number. Gerard didn’t need that at the moment, which is why he shrugged as well and then walked out of the dingy bathroom. But not without taking off his jean jacket and–not so–discreetly holding it over his crotch to hide his hard-on.

Once again, the loud noise of people shouting and screaming crowded his ears again. He looked up to the small stage to see that Frank and his band–or Pencey Prep, if you will–weren’t anywhere to be seen. Gerard didn’t like that he didn’t know where Frank was, the thought that he could be anywhere scared him slightly. What the fuck was he scared for?

He liked seeing and talking to Frank, he really did. But right now, Gerard wasn’t sure if he could even stand being around him without feeling nervous or that same intense heat he felt earlier for some stupid reason. He had to find Mikey and head back home, he couldn’t be near Frank for the time being–he couldn’t risk it. Swiftly, Gerard started making his way through the crowd looking for familiar looking glasses and spiky hair, there were less people than there had been earlier and Gerard didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. He could find Mikey easily, but Frank could also find him easily–if he was even looking in the first place. A small voice spoke from the back of his head, silently hoping that Frank had thought to look for him, but Gerard pushed it away. 

Finally, his eyes spotted that familiar tall figure he’d been looking for, for some reason that same figure had been slouched against the wall beside him, his back to Gerard. Gerard moved closer to see Mikey making out with that same girl he had seen him with earlier, one arm delicately wrapped around her bare, honey colored waist. He couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes as he approached the two.

“Mikey!” Gerard tapped his brother on the shoulder, the girl’s big curls practically covering the entirety of Mikey’s face. “Mikey! We need to go!” Gerard tried again when he received no answer from him, he could see Mikey’s eyebrows furrow before he finally turned away from the woman and looked to him. 

“What?” He breathed heavily, his lips a cherry red in the dim light. Gerard almost puked at the sight, but also found it to be hilarious all the same–this was the same guy who said he never had any fun when he and Gerard went out to bars just like this one. Gerard eyed the woman in front of them–unsure of how she’d react–before he leaned in to whisper-yell into his ear.

“We gotta go.” 

“Now?” He gave a pleading look. “Why now, Gerard?” 

The woman cut her glitter coated eyes in Gerard’s direction, then she leaned back into Mikey and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Mikey.” He almost whined, his grip on his jean jacket tightening. He just needed to get back to the apartments as soon as possible, he didn’t need to see Frank right this moment–or for the rest of the night if he could help it. If he did, he was scared he might not be able to form coherent sentences. What felt even scarier is that he didn’t exactly know why–it was scratching at him, crawling to get from underneath his skin. Mikey gave him a look Gerard knew only he could read.

Come on, man. Don’t fuck this up for me.

Look, I’m sorry. But something came up– can we just please head home?

Gerard wondered how long it would take before the woman got weirded out and just ditched the both of them altogether.

Fine. But you owe me. Big time, motherfucker. Go to the car, I’ll be out.  

Okay, whatever. You’ll be right behind me, right?

“Gerard.” He actually spoke, somehow the woman’s carefully painted fingers were still wrapped up in Mikey’s hair, he wondered what it took for her to ditch a guy. He rolled his eyes and started for the exit, he could hear the faint giggles of Mikey and the woman behind him. Get a room , was all he could think. He knew he had no place to talk, but still, get a damn room.

*****

Once the two finally got back to the apartment, Gerard headed straight for his room. He didn’t care to consider if Frank had been home already or not, or to maybe listen for any signs of him. But the space was dead silent, he must’ve still been at the bar. Before they left, Mikey assured him that Frank had a ride back, apparently he was going out with his band buddies for a few drinks after the show. He felt left out considering that neither Mikey nor Frank had told him those extra details, but he didn’t try to ask either, so he knew he had no right to be upset about that. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask since we left the bar…but what the fuck is up with the jean jacket?” Mikey scoffed, shutting the front door behind them. He turned around, throwing his keys to the kitchen counter just as he realized Gerard was not listening to him in the slightest.

“You owe me. I mean it, Gerard!” He called out as Gerard disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Gerard couldn’t bring himself to care about “ruining his night”, as Mikey had phrased it during the drive–he really couldn’t, as hard as he tried. Gerard stumbled over to his bed, trying to strip off his pants as he did, and finally threw the poor jean jacket to the floor. 

Since he left the bar, the tent in his jeans had gone down a bit. But once he was alone, Gerard felt it was beginning to ache again. He only had one thing on his mind and it was making his chest feel hot–again with this fucking unknown heat, he wasn’t supposed to be feeling it.

Just as it had in the bathroom stall back at the bar, Frank’s face appeared in his mind again. He didn’t want to do it while he thought of his own damn roommate , Gerard figured he was better than that–but it hurt so bad. He’d only do it this one time, then after that, no more. 

Gerard quickly pulled the waistband of his underwear to his mid thigh as he leaned into his mattress and then wrapped a hand around his length, starting up a fast pace–almost just as he had back at the bar with that guy. It wasn’t long before a bead of cum started to build up at his tip, making the drag more slick. Suddenly, he imagined if the hand on him wasn’t his own hand–what if it was Frank’s? Gerard tried his best to keep his lips tight together, not wanting any disgusting sounds to slip past them, but some managed to leave him and filter out into his otherwise dead silent room. He could hear the TV in the living room playing some shitty horror movie, the screams of a lady muffled through his walls–of all things Mikey would have decided to watch, it had to be that. 

He went back to imagining how beautiful Frank looked up on the stage with his band–happy and not a care in the world. He gave the tip of his dick more attention at the thought, his forehead felt ten times more sweaty than it had before he entered his room. He raked one hand through his hair–slightly tugging at his own strands–as the heels of his feet dug into the bed. He couldn’t seem to stay still for even a second, the Star War bed sheets beneath him began to wrinkle even more than they had already.

He thought back to Frank–how his hair had been so sweaty and messy, or how he licked over his lips at almost every other minute during a song.

“Fuck…” He hissed quietly into the silence of his room as he finally came, some stripping over his stomach and onto his bunched up band tee. His hand felt sticky once he finally laid still on his bed and reality set in, guilt easily slipping into his conscience.

Gerard was officially crazy.

Notes:

I'm tiredddd, but I hoped you liked this fat update. Tell me what you thinkk, comments are always appreciated! :P If there any mistakes please let me know, I've gone over it like twice in a row, so there shouldn't be. But you never know..

Chapter 5: Cold Hands To Hold

Notes:

Hiii!! Apologies for not updating last week, I wasn't feeling too good sooo. But chapter five is here now so enjoy!! ^_^

For Frank, last night was amazing. He played to his heart's content, joked around with close friends, and even drank—that last part he now regretted because he had a head splitting migraine. He was glad that he was able to set up his own work hours, he couldn’t stand to have to use his brain for even the smallest of tasks at the moment. 

As he sat on the couch in front of the TV, his blanket pulled over his shoulders, he kept thinking back to last night. His show felt slightly different from all his previous shows—he just wasn’t sure how. He’d always known himself to harbor a ton of energy—his mom always told him so—but last night he felt as though that energy doubled. He remembered how easily he moved on the small platform, how easily the flow of the music came to him, even though it did usually come naturally. But that kind of flow felt different—almost as if he was the music. Not Frank, but just warm sensations and vibrations.

It was one moment in particular, though, that he couldn’t seem to shake. When hazel fell on hazel, when warm eyes met another set, it was a moment he felt so lost in as he sang and played. Frank always knew that he was prone to get lost in music, but this was different. It was weird, especially after the show—he felt happier than usual.

Frank groaned at the confused voice in his head—the one that was trying to make sense of things the best it could—and threw himself against the couch, his back sinking into the soft cushions. When he saw Gerard in the thick sea of people, he saw that the man was staring back at him, it seemed as if all of his attention was directed towards Frank. In that moment, Frank remembered that all he could feel was a burning heat—a sense of pride, a happy giddiness. To know that he was being watched by not just anyone amongst all the people, but by Gerard, made him feel excited and carefree—but nervous all the same. Maybe that’s why he felt more erratic during the show, to have those certain brown pools fixed on him. 

But maybe they weren’t. Maybe Gerard was just looking over each band member. Maybe he finally got around to looking at Frank when their eyes had met—maybe Frank was thinking too into it, but the eye contact had held for so long. For a split second, Frank felt as if it was only him and Gerard in that big, sweaty bar. Maybe Frank is just playing into his own delusions—his subconscious wants to think that somewhere deep down, Gerard liked Frank a bit more than he led on during his time at their apartment. Maybe Gerard was looking past Frank.

Frank stared at the TV in front of him, bright lights flashing. He wasn’t necessarily watching the stupid game show—he just needed something to fill the quiet air that surrounded him. Even though he had a headache, he could not stand the complete silence. 

He thought back to how the other man looked as he stood in the center of the bar—though the lights were dim and Frank only stood still for a few seconds at a time, he could remember how stunning he looked. It wasn’t like Gerard was so far away from him, Frank could still make out certain features of his face. Like how Gerard’s nose cutely scrunched up a bit every time someone accidentally bumped into him. He could remember something shiny and purple coating around his large eyes, the color glimmering after each of his slight movements under the yellow lights. Frank groaned again at the thought, pulling his knees up to his chest and tightening his dog bone printed blanket around himself.

“What the hell is your problem?” Mikey spoke from the kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee as he tapped away on his phone—he seemed so invested in whatever conversation he was having, Frank didn’t even think that he was talking to him for a split second. 

“Do you need me to get you more Tylenol?” His eyes never left his small screen as Frank wrestled to get his brain together, to get it to settle on saying something—anything other than what he was actually thinking about.

“No, I think I’m good. I’m just…thinking.” He settled on saying.

“What else could possibly have you making all those depressing ass groaning sounds over there? Wanna talk about it?” Mikey said, finally looking away from his phone and over to the pile of human trash that laid on the couch. 

“First, fuck you. Second, no. No, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Frank tried to give him the best glare he could muster in the moment. It’s not like he was mad at Mikey—yeah, of course his head felt like it was about to split in two, but it felt as though he had worse things going on in the front of his mind. He wanted to talk to Gerard. He wanted to ask him how the show had been; if he thought it was cool, if he fucked with their music, or which song was his favorite? He was bursting with questions, the excitement was burning him from the inside out. He wanted to ask Gerard all these questions right after the band’s performance, but when Frank got off the stage, Gerard was nowhere to be found. For some reason, Frank wanted to know Gerard’s opinion—more than anyone’s in the world—and he didn’t know why. Usually, he didn’t care for people’s opinions—he didn’t even think to ask Mikey how he liked it—but he wanted to know Gerard’s. He wanted to know if he’d done good.

“Shoot yourself,” He shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his phone. “Just don’t be pissed at me. Maybe don’t stay out so late at night drinking, now that’s the real reason as to why you’re so damn cranky.” He laughed softly, a bright smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Someone was happy today. Frank couldn't help but to turn Mikey’s words over in his head, ‘Maybe don’t stay out so late.’

‘Ironic’ . He tried his best to not let the words slip past his lips. He still had yet to ask about the brother’s midnight escapades—he felt it wasn’t his place too, even though the thought never left his mind. 

Frank pulled the blanket over his head—further messing up his bed head—and kicked his feet around, almost like a child throwing a tantrum. The words and questions were slowly gnawing at his brain, no better than the hangover was. “Why does Gerard stay in his room all day?”

After picking through his wrecked brain, he decided he’d let that one out into the stale air. simply because he hadn’t seen Gerard since they locked eyes in the bar. Frank didn’t see him when he got back around 5 AM this morning, then took a long and very much needed nap, and woke up around 1 PM. He’s been sitting on the couch ever since and still, there was no sign of Gerard—there weren’t even any sounds coming from his room and when Frank asked Mikey, he had said that Gerard was home. Frank would be lying if he said he wasn’t even worried in the slightest bit.

Mikey looked up from his phone and at Frank, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water a few times before he stuttered out an answer. 

“H-He’s just…not a morning person.” His face started to turn pink around the edges, the rest of his body frozen as it seemed.

“But it’s pushing late in the afternoon–” 

“He just likes his alone time, y’know? Everyone does, Frank.” Frustration started to show its ugly presence through Mikey’s voice. There was a stiff silence as Mikey looked between him and his phone, his gaze seemingly not able to settle on what it wanted to settle on. Frank thought if he should apologize—or say anything at all for that matter—before Mikey started to speak again.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. I’m just dealing with a little bit of something right now,” He raised his hand and lightly shook his phone, the small white screen blurred to Frank's vision. “But that’s no excuse. What I’m just—it’s just that Gerard is kinda nocturnal,” Yeah, Frank kinda caught on to that already. “And paired with that and his kinda tight deadlines for comic strips—shit like that—he just spends a lot of time in his room.” The soft, inviting look in his eyes returned—although Frank wasn’t put off by his ‘angry side’ . If anything he found it to be funny, as much as it made him sound like an asshole, it was funny.

“Alright, I get it.” Frank didn’t know what much else he could say, though a smile still tugged at the corner of his chapped lips. From out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw Mikey hesitate to turn his attention back to his phone—as if he wanted to apologize once more—but then he eventually did turn back to it.

“Why do you ask anyways?” Mikey spoke up after a few minutes of silence—the cheery, high pitch voice of some woman winning a ‘ shiny, brand new Chevy Silverado ’ on the TV being the only other thing filling the silence between the two.

“No exact reason. I just want to ask him something and it’s killing me having to wait.” That wasn’t the only reason why Frank had asked of course. It just felt so abnormal for someone to be locked away for such a long time—and not only that, but to also be so silent all the while. Even Gerard played music sometimes .

“Oh, really? What was the question? Maybe I can ask him for you.” He said, attention still glued to his phone. What was so damn interesting about that thing anyways?

“Eh, no, it’s fine. I’d rather ask him myself,” Frank grabbed the TV remote to change the channel, the woman’s voice was beginning to worsen his headache. “And they’re more like questions . Not just one.” Frank wasn’t sure why, but he wanted those questions to remain between him and Gerard. All he wanted to know was what the other guy thought of their show, why’d he have to be so secretive? Even so, he didn’t feel the need to elaborate any further what those questions were to Mikey.

“Um, alright?” He spoke as if he didn’t quite understand what Frank was trying to say—or rather not trying to say. Then they both fell into silence, this one much more comfortable than the last time they both went quiet and at this point Frank gave up on trying to find something—anything—to peak his interest on the TV. Maybe nothing good was on, or maybe Frank's mind was stuck somewhere else. It was driving him insane.

Suddenly, he heard Mikey sit his phone down on the counter with a light tap. Then he began to walk towards Gerard’s room, his face stoic and his long limbs clearing the distance easily. Without a word, he quietly slipped into Gerard’s room. Only the soft click of the door bid goodbye to Frank as he sat in the living room, now all alone. Frank really didn’t like the idea of that, as he was now entirely alone with his thoughts. He started to wonder why Mikey was allowed to just walk into Gerard’s room like how he did, but then he quickly snapped back. Of course Mikey was allowed to just walk into his room—much more welcomed than he was to, that’s for sure, because they were brothers.

He turned down the volume of the TV just slightly—not because he wanted to listen to Gerard’s voice or anything, simply because the volume was making his head hurt even more than it already did. 

Frank heard a few murmurs come from the room behind him, but he couldn’t decipher any one of them. But now he knew Gerard was awake for sure, Frank wasn’t sure if he should be happy about that or not. He felt a shiver go down his back just before Gerard’s door opened again a few, long minutes later, Mikey came out with a small smile on his face and Gerard right behind him. He seemed to curl into himself a little more than usual, creating his hunched over posture as he walked around the couch and plopped down on the opposite side to Frank—his lips pulled into a soft frown as he looked ahead to the TV. Frank could physically feel the fire in his eyes ignite as they landed on his porcelain figure, suddenly his body felt warm and his headache was a distant thing of the past.

“Hi, Gerard.” Frank smiled, he completely forgot his blanket and let it fall off of his shoulders as he inched closer to the other man, but he made sure to keep his distance. For some strange reason, Frank felt the slight urge to tuck himself into Gerard’s side and talk to him just like that—but of course he pushed that aside into a private safe in his mind, locked it and then threw away the damn key.

“Hi.” He said simply, suddenly the carpet at his feet was more interesting than looking back at Frank, he buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his baggy black hoodie. Frank looked down at his lap, of course he had his sketchbook with him. Mikey sat back in the kitchen, lazily  spinning in one of the low stools, his attention was back on his phone. 

“You got your sketchbook with you again,” He pointed out, drawing Gerard’s attention down to it like he had forgotten about it already. “Anything new in that thing that I can see?” Frank started off slowly, suddenly the questions he had wanted to ask before were all melted soup inside his head. He wanted to talk to Gerard about something—anything.

Gerard’s hands flew out of his pockets, spreading his fingers over the battered cover protectively. “No. I– Well, I have made a few new things. I just don’t want you to see.” His body tensed as he curled into himself more, his shoulders practically hovering over the sketchbook in his lap. Last time, Gerard wasn’t so open about sharing what was in his sketchbook, so Frank wasn’t too surprised that he’d be hesitant now. But he’d only been like that without the small bit of encouragement—the push that Frank knew he needed, otherwise, he was an open book.

“But why not? I’m sure it’s just as cool as the rest of your art—oh! Is it another comic for Mikey?” Frank whispered, smiling. He then grew tired of having his legs folded up underneath him and suddenly, an idea formed into his melted brain. Frank leaned further onto his back and stretched his legs out to Gerard, nudging the side of the worn out, stacked papers with his sock covered foot. “Come on. Lemme see.” He emphasized each word with a nudge of his foot. “ Gerard . Can I please see what your beautiful mind created?” He spoke in a purposely soft, pleading tone—sometimes he couldn’t help but to act like an asshole, it just came naturally to him. But it wasn’t like he was going to lock away that part of him like he had done earlier with his other thoughts, it was only his humor. 

“Ew, you’re gross, Frank,” Gerard said, hugging the book closer to his chest and out of reach of Frank’s foot—which wasn’t very hard to do due to his undeniably short height. “And no. I don’t care how much you try to sweet talk me,” He giggled his high pitched giggle—the one that Frank was slowly growing addicted to, he wanted to hear that sound again and again, as many times as he could.  “You’re not getting any looks. I mean it.” He smiled slightly, nudging his foot away with one of the ragged corners of the book. “And keep your feet to yourself.” Although Frank was not deterred, he kept with his teasing—jabbing at Gerard’s poor sketchbook and soon the side of his thigh.

“C’mon, Gee. Lemme see, please?” Frank found the use of the nickname rolling off of his tongue, catching him off guard. Based off of the way Gerard’s movements stuttered for a moment, it caught him off guard as well.

“S-Sorry. I hope you don’t mind me using the name. I heard Mikey say it and I think it’s cute, so like, if that’s only a thing between you two– I can just not–” He could feel pink blossoming on his cheeks, threatening to rise from the loose collar of his t-shirt to set on his face. 

“No, it’s fine. You can… if you want.” Frank’s foot rested on Gerard’s lower thigh lightly—this was probably the most comfortable he’d gotten with him, especially considering how distant Gerard could be at times. Frank stared at the curtain of greasy hair hiding away Gerard’s face as he looked down to the carpet, then suddenly Mikey came in front of them. He swatted away Frank’s foot from Gerard’s thigh and off the couch, before he plopped down right in between the two, blocking the view Frank had of Gerard. Bitterness slipped its way in through the thin cracks of Frank’s mind, all morning he had been trying to talk to Gerard. But he knew he had nothing to hold against Mikey, he had no reason too.

“The fuck are you two doing? Flirting?” Mikey said, his expression as unreadable as ever. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and his small flip phone in the other. Frank knew the pink that was slowly creeping up on him before, was now here, breaking down doors to get to Frank's cheeks and announcing their presence. 

“W-What? No, don’t be a dumbass.” Frank heard Gerard speak from the other side of Mikey, then he saw a pale hand snatch the cup in Mikey’s hand away. 

“Hey! Go make your own damn coffee.” Mikey obviously tried to snatch his coffee back from Gerard’s icy grip. Frank felt as though this was revenge for his fallen Pop-Tart last week, but he didn’t feel as victorious as he thought he would—even if it wasn’t his doing. He could only think of one thing. Flirting? Is that what it looked like they were doing?  

“Your first mistake was making coffee without asking me if I wanted some. Now you shall take your penance.” Gerard laughed, taking slow sips from Mikey’s mug as if to rub it in. He seemed to have already forgotten about Mikey’s comment moments ago, maybe he brushed it off as a simple joke.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

“Shut up.” 

Mikey then slumped back into the couch, giving up on his lost coffee. Frank still sat in the corner of the couch, the wires in his brain having trouble reconnecting.

“Anyways,” Mikey began, his arm moving to push his glasses up. “Ray agreed to come over for a movie night later on this week.” Even though Mikey’s head was turned away from Frank, he could hear the toothy smile plastered on his face.

“Oh, really? I didn’t think he would…” Gerard’s voice spoke, he didn’t seem to be as excited as Mikey was. Frank felt as though he had no place in the conversation, so he tried his best to focus his attention on the random romance movie that played on the TV in front of them—and, God, was it cheesy. Frank figured listening in on them wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was right next to them, he was bound to overhear them at one point or another, so it wasn’t really eavesdropping.

“I’m trying to tell you, Gee. I don’t think Ray is the type of person to hold a grudge and he’s understanding. If anything, I just genuinely think he was happy to hear from us.” Mikey practically bounced on the couch cushion. “Oh! What do you think we should watch? Or should we just wait to ask him–” Mikey talked fast and bright, and he spoke as if he didn’t need air to continue on and getting his sentences out was way more important. 

Frank could hear the soft hum of Gerard’s voice, he was most likely thinking. “What about…the original Star Wars trilogy?..” He then leaned forward, placing a now empty mug on the wooden coffee table. He drank that down pretty fast.

“Again, Gee?” Laughter seeped into the edges of Mikey’s voice.

“Yes, again . I mean—you can never go wrong with it.”

Suddenly, Mikey turned to Frank beside him, his head lolled to the side against the back of the couch cousin. “Did ya wanna stick around for a movie night?” His glasses once again clinged to the very tip of his nose, and as if on cue, Mikey reached to push them back up. 

“Hm,” Frank pretended to think, but with the headache he had, it didn’t take him too long to come to the conclusion that he knew damn well he wasn’t planning on going anywhere outside of their little apartment for the next few days. “Yeah, sure. I don’t have shit else better to do.” 

“Fucking awesome—oh! And you’re gonna love Ray. I’m telling you, he’s really cool.” Mikey smiled, a little too brightly for someone who was out of coffee.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the dude…besides, I love Star Wars.” He smiled more at Gerard behind him rather than at Mikey. A sheepish smile was returned to him.

***

A ring from the doorbell came, its sound traveling throughout the apartment. Cold goosebumps spread across Gerard’s skin like pale sprinkles across a vanilla ice cream cone.

Today was the day he and Mikey would see Ray again, after maybe a year, was it? He couldn’t remember, being stuck as he was messed with his perception of time.

He pushed his room door open, his eyes landing on a cheerful Mikey walking across the room to the front door. His smile had a weird softness to it, one Gerard hadn’t seen in awhile.

“You’re finally up, just in time. I’m going to go let Ray in.” He slipped his feet into small fitting slides at the door. He seemed so weirdly relaxed, was Gerard the only one nervous here?

He slipped further into the living room, peering over the couch and to the coffee table. Various kinds of candy, soda, and snacks littered the cluttered table, a stack of Star Wars DVDs sat patiently in the far corner of the table, only waiting to be played. At least Mikey was prepared. 

Sure, Gerard knew Ray was coming today, but he still couldn’t help but to feel stranded. He was different, no matter how much Mikey had tried to convince him. He knew he changed a lot and he was afraid that Ray would notice that change—they used to be so close, how could he not? With Frank, it’s not like he knew him before he turned, but Ray did. After he turned, he only spoke to Ray a handful of times—then not at all. This was like jumping head first into the deep end and Gerard had not one athletic bone in his body, even with all the monster-like modifications. What if he noticed something was 0ff about him? 

No matter how much Mikey would tell him, he knew he wasn’t the same Gerard anymore.

The dread began to seep into his brain and clung to him all around his body. Almost like venomous snakes, sinking their teeth into him without mercy, hissing as if saying, ‘ Hah! Doesn’t feel too good, now does it? Paybacks a bitch.’

He didn’t want to see Ray right now, but then at the same time, he wouldn’t want to make Mikey sad by just bailing out on the two—especially when he promised. He knew Mikey wanted it to be like old times, he knew Mikey wanted to have friends again, he didn’t want to let him down. Gerard didn’t want to feel like he was taking away his social life from him, all because he—

Then he finally heard the sounds of steps inching closer to the front door, the cracking of the old staircase following close behind and the laughs of two best friends. 

He needed some air—or not really because—oh, fuck it. 

Gerard took large steps—and maybe just a hint of blurring, cool vampire speed—through the living room and to the balcony glass doors. He basically tore them open just as he heard heavy boots step into the apartment behind him, then he stepped out into the brisk night air seemingly unnoticed.

“Nice socks.” A voice spoke beside him. His eyes that were once squeezed shut, were now wide open, staring at Frank. He stared back with a more relaxed look, a cigarette held up to his lips as he leaned against the metal railing.

“What?” Gerard suddenly became more aware of the way he carried himself and then thought to straighten up from his slouched posture. Frank tilted his head in the direction of Gerard’s feet, Gerard followed his line of sight down to his bat printed socks, his big toe conveniently peeking through the fabric and touching the cold concrete below. Another reason for Gerard to feel like an idiot, and in front of Frank of all people.

“Yeah, thanks. I had them custom made.” Gerard grumbled as he clung to the glass door behind him—he wasn’t planning on going back in so soon exactly, but he definitely didn’t want to be too close to Frank either.

“Oh, really? They fit your ratty character,” He presented his shit eating grin. “I like ‘em.” Frank could be really irritating at times, but that never stopped the electricity Gerard felt from inside of his stomach from reeking havoc. “Great, ‘cause I wore them just for you.” Gerard chuckled lightly, letting sarcasm flow through his words.

The October air showed no mercy in letting everyone know that fall had arrived, a cold breeze brushed against Gerard’s face. He wished he had the ability to shiver—or to react to the cold in some way—because it was small things like that that reminded him that he was not normal, not human. That he could never have the life that he did before, which is why he couldn’t face Ray—or anyone who knew him from before for any matter, Mikey was the only exception.

“You okay, dude? You look like shit.” Frank’s hazels bored into Gerard. Not only did the comment make him feel subconscious, but so did the way that Frank looked at him—like there was something interesting on Gerard’s face, Gerard couldn’t begin to imagine what that might’ve been. “Do you want a smoke?” Frank’s voice carried through the cool air, then landed in Gerard’s ear, resting, soft and warm. 

Gerard didn’t smoke anymore, he lost the need to because he lost the effects smoking had on him as well. 

“Y-Yeah, I’ll take one.” He found himself saying, his mouth speaking before his brain even wanted it to.

Gerard hesitantly stepped away from the twin slide doors and towards Frank who pulled a box of cigarettes from his back pocket, then he held it out for Gerard to slide one out. Gerard placed the cigarette between his lips, his hands shaking a bit as he did, then he looked to Frank as he waited for him to slide his lighter out from his back pocket as well to light it—but he never did. Instead, Frank pushed up on his tip-toes to reach Gerard’s cigarette with his own. Both ends of their cigarettes pressed together as Frank inhaled on his end to light Gerard’s, their faces only inches apart for a few long seconds as Frank waited for the light to catch, then he pulled away.

As cold as the night air was around them, Gerard only felt warm—impossibly warm.

“Sorry, I lost my light.” Frank said simply, a soft smile curled around his own cigarette as he took another drag from it. Gerard couldn’t find his words, his tongue tied—but even so, he still couldn’t say anything as his brain was turned to mush. What the fuck was that?

“Oh, n-no, it’s fine…” Gerard tried his best to rebuild his brain, tried his best to remember all the words he thought he knew. He watched with wide eyes as a light breeze blew across Frank’s face, the wind brushed his hair aside to plant little pink kisses across his cheeks—it would’ve been stupid for Gerard to say that he was jealous of the damn wind .

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” Frank spoke as he looked off to the night sky instead of at Gerard. Gerard felt a small weight lift off of his shoulders at the loss of Frank’s eyes being focused on him—but at the same time, he felt disappointed.

“Huh?” Gerard suddenly remembered the cigarette between his lips. He took a drag and then leaned on the cold metal railing, mirroring Frank’s position, but making sure to keep his distance all the same. “You look kinda stressed…so like, d’ya wanna spill? It makes me feel better. Sometimes.” His nose scrunched a bit at the last word, Gerard smiled at his aversion. “No, not really. It’d be hard to put into words.”

But Gerard knew it wouldn’t just ‘ be hard to put into words ’, it would be way harder than that. But he couldn’t just vent to Frank that he was this monster who feeds on the blood of the living—he didn’t want him to be scared of him. Frank was different in a way, Gerard never cared about what guys at the bar would think of him once they learned of his awful secret—if they’d grow afraid of him, or if they’d grow disgusted. It never bothered him, maybe it was because he knew he’d never see them again, or because they were always either high or drunk. But now it did, especially when it came to Frank finding out. Even Ray, he didn’t want Ray to find out either, and based on the fact that Ray knew him before shit went down, he had even more of a reason to not want him to find out too.

“Alright then, if you insist. Just don’t say I never asked.” Frank leaned into Gerard and elbowed his side. They fell into a comfortable silence, Gerard pulled at his cigarette again, feeling the stale warmth of the smoke invade his equally stale lungs. Gerard’s eyes wandered out to darkness in front of them, gold and white lights sprinkled across from what they could see on the apartment’s small hill—a complete opposite to what the sky was supposed to look like. It was funny—and probably sad—that there were more stars down on Earth than there were up in the sky.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a bit, but I never got the chance,” Frank broke the silence, he tapped at his cigarette over the balcony, Gerard watched as the ashes disappeared below them and down to the cold concrete. “Did you enjoy the show the other day?” He placed his cigarette between his lips once again as he seemingly looked off to houses around them, Gerard fell prey to letting his eyes wander down Frank’s lips, watching how they wrapped around the orange filter. He ripped his eyes away just in time as Frank turned his head to meet his gaze.

“U-Uh, yeah. It was fucking awesome.” He said simply, a shuddered breath following behind the words.

“Yeah, I know.” He grinned. A strong gust of wind blew at the curls framing his face, at the same time, it seemed to push them closer.

“You don’t have to be a dick, y’know.” Gerard laughed, twirling his cigarette between his fingers. He knew he gained nothing from smoking, but the act still put him at ease—or more like it gave him something to do with his hands.

“Oh, but I’m not,” He leaned in, tapping his shoulder against Gerard’s. No matter how far a distance they were, they always seemed to drift closer to each other, and Gerard couldn’t find it in himself to lean away from his searing body heat—maybe that’s what he was looking for though, a warm body to lean onto.

“I saw you in the crowd. You looked like you were having the time of your life.” He giggled, almost childlike. 

Gerard found himself smiling—the weight that rested on his shoulders before, was all melted away now. What was he so worried about before anyway? Gerard couldn’t remember, but he internally decided that it could wait.

“Y’know, I tried to find you after our set, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He finally flicked the rest of his cigarette over the balcony. Gerard watched again as it slowly disapeared, then he did the same—even though he didn’t finish it all the way. 

“I even tried to ask Mikey where you ran off to, but man—that dude had his hands full.” He smiled wide at the memory, his lip ring twinkling from the small overhead light above them. “Then I headed to wait outside the bathroom thinking you’ve might’ve just been taking a piss—”

Gerard’s already frozen heart somehow stilled even further, if he had any humanity left in him, it was for sure gone now. Frank had gone to the bathroom that night? Gerard silently pleaded to the sky above him that Frank had gone in there after—after his little encounter . 

“But you’ll never believe this, some dude and a chick—from what it sounded like—were in one of the stalls, full on getting their rocks off.” Frank laughed, his eyes filled with excitement.

Sometimes, Gerard was thankful that he wasn’t human—because he knew his face would be burning a deep red. “Man, I swear, it sounded so obscene. I got away from there quickly.” He stood up off the balcony and turned to lean his lower back against it instead, crossing his arms over his chest. His attention fully focused on the side of Gerard’s face who was still facing forward—Gerard could feel his eyes on him, pressing and burning into him like branding irons, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. He couldn’t have known that it was Gerard in the stall—that he was that ‘ chick ’.

“But y’know, good for them or whatever. Lucky guy, because she sounded hot, I’d say.”

Gerard felt sick, but giddy all the same. That night, he knew that there was a chance of anyone walking in at any time, but for some reason, the thought hadn’t reached the possibility of Frank walking in as well. For that, he felt sick—but at the same time, Frank said he sounded ‘ hot ’. Gerard didn’t think Frank knew it was him—he hadn’t talked much when he was with the greasy blonde, it was only a few times. What were the chances Frank heard him and knew it was him? He didn’t want to dwell on it for too long—for the sake of his poor, stilled heart.

“Hey, you good?” Frank elbowed him again. “You got that sick look on your face again.”

“Yeah, no—I’m fine.” Gerard shook away those thoughts and questions from his head, then stuffed his almost sweaty hands deep into his hoodie pockets. “We should probably head back in, before Mikey starts to get worried.” He huffed before stepping away from Frank and to the sliding doors, then he stopped—Ray was just on the other side of these doors, how could he have forgotten? Frank had a strange pull on him; one that sucked away every thought from his brain and replaced it with warm, fuzzy feelings. Ones that Gerard didn’t like, but did all the same, because he never thought he could feel warm again.

He breathed in cold air through his nose and out through his mouth, the air coming back out just as cold, then he slid the door open. The warm air from inside welcomed him, he could feel Frank’s heat behind him, even as he was a few feet away from him. 

“Oh, yeah, movie night!” He announced, like he had forgotten. “You better get to the popcorn before I do, ‘cause there are no promises that I won’t eat it all before the movie even starts.” Frank followed Gerard into the apartment, smirking.

They both walked in to see Mikey and Ray sitting on the couch, both smiling and laughing as Ray seemingly told some story about this guy who walked into his record store sporting full on swim gear, his hands waving around in a way that could just pull someone into the joy and feelings he held on his sleeve. 

“I swear the guy just walked up to me at the counter—like he wasn’t wearing these tight ass swimming trunks and swimming fins—and handed me a Dead Kennedy’s record to check out. But y’know, it’s Dead Kennedy’s, so I checked him out without any further questions. But it was so fucking weird, now that I really think about it…” Ray rambled, his back to Gerard and Frank. 

“Did you just say something about Dead Kennedy’s?” Gerard heard Frank say behind him, breaking him out of his frozen state as he stared at the two on the couch. Ray then turned around at the voice, his light brown curls moving with him. “Hell yeah, I did—” His eyes landed on Frank, then right beside him to Gerard. 

“Gee!” He smiled brightly before standing to his overwhelmingly tall height and moving towards Gerard, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “Aw, I missed you man.” His hair tickled the tip of Gerard’s nose. Gerard hesitantly wrapped his arms around Ray, hugging him back—he oddly missed Ray’s warm grizzly hugs. “I missed you too.” He gave him a small squeeze.

All of a sudden, his skin felt translucent—like if Ray squinted hard enough, he could see inside of him. He could see that his once friend was replaced by a disgusting faker. He felt the same way he had when Mikey had seen him for the first time, after he turned. He figured the feeling would go away after some time like it did with Mikey, but right now he felt awful in front of Ray.

He caught Mikey’s gaze once Ray released him from the hug, a familiar—yet unfamiliar—fondness tugged around his eyes, he looked really happy. Ray then moved back to the couch and sat beside Mikey, easing back into his comfortable position.

“Anyways, Dead Kennedy’s? Mikey, you were so right. I like this guy.” Frank moved from beside Gerard and towards Ray, holding out his hand for a fist bump, Ray easily returned the favor with a smile. Everyone seemed so relaxed—Gerard didn’t want to be the stray needle in a kids’ bouncy house, ruining everyone’s fun. He tried to recall what Mikey had told him before, he was still the same old Gerard . Years had passed since he turned—not many, but still—and even now he could not come to terms with his changes and how he was different.

“Come on, Gee. We’re waiting on you so we can start the movie,” Mikey said, as the Star Wars menu showed on the TV. “Come on.” He patted the spot next to him, he looked down to see Frank sitting at Mikey’s feet on the floor—despite there being an entire loveseat in the other corner of the living room. Gerard clumsily stepped over Frank and plopped down next to Mikey and leaned into him a bit, seeking the slightest bit of comfort.

“Are you okay down there, Frank? Y’know, there’s literally another couch over there.” Gerard looked down to Frank. He sat with his knees hugged to his chest, practically squeezed between Mikey and Gerard’s calves.

“And be over there by myself? Fuck off with that, Gee.” He then reached to grab the big bowl of popcorn off the coffee table, shoveling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. Gerard didn’t think he’d ever get used to the nickname spilling off of Frank’s tongue in the way that it did—it sounded way too smooth and made his head whirl.

“I like you…Frank?” Ray spoke up, leaning forward to grab some gummies off the table. 

“Yup, and of course you do.” Frank said with a mouth full of popcorn, the sight made Gerard cringe. 

“You’re such a dog,” Gerard laughed, some tension melting off his shoulders. He shoved a hand in Frank’s hair and ruffled it around, the small gesture of affection seemingly coming out of nowhere, almost instinctively. “Close your mouth.”

“Yeah, maybe I am. For the right person, at least.” He shrugged, ignoring the last part of what Gerard said, still talking with his mouth full.

“Ew, Frank. Gross.” Mikey said, then lightly kicked Frank in the side, making him lean into Gerard’s leg more. “If you’re trying to flirt with my brother, do that shit somewhere else. Just not in front of me, I beg of you.” Then a stifled laugh came from Ray, followed by a choking sound—one of his gummy worms most likely got lodged in his throat. 

Frank laughed and then leaned his head against Gerard’s knee, his head rubbing into the soft fabric of his sweatpants as his laughs made his shoulders hitch. Gerard decided to ignore Frank’s joke—because it probably meant nothing, and was simply just that, a joke—and focused on Frank’s hair. He admired the way it laid across the lower part of his thigh and the slight shine to it, he thought that it probably smelled amazing. Without thinking, he slowly reached his hand to the tips of Frank’s shorter than mid-length hair, and began to play with the soft, feather-like locks. 

The movie played in the background, but for the first time in a while, Gerard couldn’t bring himself to focus on it. Instead, he stroked at Frank’s hair. The tips of his fingers climbed higher and higher each time he pulled his hand back, until they almost reached his scalp.

Gerard didn’t notice the small smile pulling at the corners of his own lips, he didn’t notice how Frank’s head leaned heavier into his knee—or how the rest of his body leaned into his leg completely. The warmth of his side pressed into Gerard’s cold leg felt comforting—like their temperatures evened each other out. Gerard didn’t notice how Frank’s breath became steady, deep and slow. How he had fallen asleep already—popcorn still cradled in his lap.

Notes:

Geez, this is the longest chapter I've written so far. Maybe think of it as a further apology for missing last week. This may be my favorite chapter so far cause I think it's so cute, but then at the same time it was so nerve-racking to write for NO reason at all.. But maybe the hardest ones to write are the best ones. IDK. Again comments are appreciated, I love hearing what some of y'all think. <3

Chapter 6: Underneath The Ink Of A Comic

Notes:

I /love/ how my 'update every Sunday' schedule just completely evaporated (Sarcasm). But don't worry, she's here now and she's longer than the last chapter...it feels like with every chapter, they just keep getting longer. Enjoy!!^_^

“I don’t feel like going out tonight, Mikes.”

“Hm, Why? Is there something wrong?” 

“No, I’m fine.”

“I figured you’d be ansty to feed, especially since we haven’t gone out since Frank’s show.”

“I know, but I honestly don’t feel like it. Besides, I’m not hungry anyway.”

“It was only a few days ago since you last ate and I know you can last but—but are you sure? Gee, I don’t want you getting all rabid while I’m at work. I don’t want any mistakes–”

“I said I’m fine . I don’t want to go out and I’m not hungry. So can we just drop it?”

They were fucking at it again. Like many nights before, they’d get up and go out to do whatever the fuck it was that they did. Frank couldn’t care any less about what they were up to tonight, just like many others, he only wished that they’d do it much quieter though. This became a part of Frank’s schedule while living with the Way brothers; during the day, he’d go without any solid plans, making up his to-do list as he went. He’d work on his music projects here and there, maybe talk to Mikey if he was home from his little comic book store, maybe even get to hang out with Gerard for a bit—but that was only when he decided to leave his cave of a room, or if he even decided to open up that day. Then, slowly, what became a part of his daily lazy schedule would be tuning into the Way Brothers show at exactly 2 AM every other night or so.

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Frank could hear Mikey’s strained voice, the thin walls making the sound muffled. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I just not wanna go? Why does there have to be a problem? If anything you should be happy that you get to stay in tonight—that I get to stay in.” Frank could hear the frustration in Gerard’s voice, he could imagine him standing in the living room with his arms folded across his chest. 

Frank then curled into himself, all of a sudden he could feel the tension in the air, as if he was in the same room with the brothers and standing right between them.

“Gee, why would I be happy about that? I don’t want you to starve yourself. I know how you feel about blood from the blood bank, so—so this is really our next best option. And hey, it’s been going well for us for a while—you’re good at it, as much as I hate to say.” Mikey’s tone almost sounded pleading, but there was no mistaking that he was full of care.

Frank often overheard them talk about blood in needless to say odd ways, but he already accepted long ago that these dudes were straight up weirdos. For some reason, he couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much though. Maybe it was some stupid horror roleplay game they made up and liked to indulge in—Frank knew by now how much the two loved all things horror—and he was not one to judge in that department.

“I still don’t understand how you can say all of that so easily. Like I’m not…and we’re just talking about going to the supermarket for a quick meal and a snack.”

Then there was a long pause.

“Fucking– Gee, I don’t know what else you want me to do or say. Wh–What is this about? What don’t you understand? Shit has been this way for the past five years.”

Another long pause. Maybe Gerard was thinking of what to say—or maybe he just didn’t have anything to say. Frank wished he could see through the walls, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be able to see or hear anything. It would be so simple to just put his headphones over his ears and blast his favorite punk rock songs—yet it was also so hard to do so.

“I-I don’t know, alright? I just…” His voice sounded as if it broke, then silence followed after it. It didn’t seem as though Mikey wanted to force out whatever Gerard had to say. “I just wish…we could be more normal, y’know? Like how things used to be.” Then things went quiet again.

Frank turned over to his back, sprawling his limbs out across the messy sheet covered mattress. He never heard the two actually argue about anything for the short time he had lived with them, especially not about something he never saw brewing from surface level, but then again he didn’t quite understand what they were arguing about. But he probably wasn’t supposed to in the first place.

“Oh, um,” Frank could imagine Mikey pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Is it because of Ray? Did old memories come back with him?” He spoke without hesitation, that same amount of care still weighed down his tone all the same. There was no response from Gerard, only silence.

“Alright, why don’t we talk about it some more when it’s not late at night and we don’t have someone asleep in the next room beside us?” There was a slight giggle to his voice, probably trying to lighten the sour mood. “And I’m serious though, you can’t just not eat anything. Especially since—”

“Yeah, I know. I have it under control, I’m okay, I promise. Can we go tomorrow night?”

“Sure, don’t think we have much of a choice anyways, since we’re not going tonight.” There were a few shuffles across the floor, Frank couldn’t tell in which direction they were moving. He was glad they were wrapping their shit up, not only for the sake of his already fucked up sleep schedule, but also because it’s not like he liked to hear them argue—he started to grow fond of how close they seemed to be.

“Thanks, Mikey. Seriously, without you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far.”

“Of course, Gee.” 

Frank wasn’t sure if it was from the paper thin walls or what, because Mikey’s voice sounded much duller than it did a second ago.

***

Frank emerged from his room to the strong smell of coffee, the smell only got stronger as he moved towards the living room. The space dimly lit, one small lamp in the corner of the room trying to illuminate the area best it could. Of course, the curtains were drawn, blocking out any natural light that the morning sky might’ve produced. 

Gerard stood in the kitchen, pouring steaming black coffee from its pot into a mug with a scratched Batman logo on it. 

“Hi, Gerard,” He came around the counter to greet him, a soft smile rested across his face. “I’ve never seen you up this early. Special occasion?” He leaned his back against the counter, the coldness of the surface seeping past the fabric of his thin t-shirt. 

“It’s only 10:30,” The emotion in his voice was hard to pinpoint. As Frank got to know him, he learned how easy it could be to read Gerard at times, but now, it felt as if he had completely thrown him off. “Not that early, Frank.” Gerard didn’t even lift his head to look at him, instead he kept his head down, adding a small spoonful of sugar to his cup of coffee before stirring it.

Frank resisted the urge to straighten up from his slouched posture against the counter. He tried to get a glimpse of his face—anything that could indicate if, just maybe, he wasn’t in the mood for jokes, maybe then he would at least try to hold back his slick tongue—but he couldn’t even see Gerard’s profile. He couldn’t see the furrow of a brow or the twitch of his nose, but he went for it anyway.

“Again. I’ve never seen you up this early.” He smiled, hoping the joke would stick to his seemingly cold demeanor.

Gerard stepped away from the counter, the coffee mug held up to his mouth, his face now not only covered by his hair, but his mug as well. Frank admired how his pale fingers wrapped around the black glossy mug, porcelain his skin almost just as shiny.

“Well, get a good look, I guess. ‘Cause you won’t be seeing me this early again—or for the rest of the day, as a matter of fact.” He walked towards his room, the door only cracked open, presenting a small slither of what he seemingly hid inside. Though, Frank could barely make out anything as it was pitch black in his room. Gerard pushed it open further as the darkness of the room swallowed him, some light following him inside. From that, Frank could make out a few pieces of paper laid out across his floor along with a few paint brushes. “See you, Frank.” He spoke quietly, shutting the door. Leaving Frank to stare at the fading, messy stickers and drawings in his place.

“See you?” Frank spoke to no one, but himself and the weird Mikey gnome on the door. Even Gerard would talk a bit more after Frank did, it felt unusual for him to leave so quickly, it made Frank feel unsteady. After a few conversations with Gerard, he noticed a pattern. Frank could present or bring up a topic, Gerard would then take that and run with it. An endless rabbit hole of pointless, yet interesting information spewed from his mouth. It was almost endearing, Frank felt disappointment weighing down on his shoulders, even though he did not want it to. He figured that Gerard would’ve stayed just a bit longer to talk. 

Then he remembered what he had overheard that morning—him and Mikey having some kind of disagreement on a subject Frank couldn’t begin to understand, especially with only the small bits and pieces he had to work with. He wondered if he should either wait for the right time to ask about it, or leave it alone—because it wasn’t his place to ask. He got along with the two, as it seemed, but it didn’t mean that he knew all there was to know about them and it didn’t mean he had to either.

He looked over to the coffee pot Gerard had left on the counter, it had just enough in it for perhaps two more cups. He brushed off his remaining thoughts and made his way to the cabinet that held all the mugs.

Mikey emerged from his room, his spikey hair sticking up and his posture more slouched than usual. “Good morning, Frank.” Mikey greeted as he entered the kitchen, his voice gravelly and sleep hung heavy not only in his tone, but in his eyes as well. He reached his long arms over Frank’s shoulder and directly to the coffee pot. 

“Good morning,” He said plainly, uncertain of how Mikey would act—uncertain if he was feeling sour too. As long as no one was taking their anger out on him, he could be flexible and take a step back to leave them to figure their shit out. 

Frank stared at Mikey from over the rim of his own mug, the hot coffee warming him from the inside out, easing his thoughts. He looked over how he curried himself—if Frank knew one thing about himself, he knew that he could be very attentive without even meaning to half of the time.

Mikey’s eyes were just barely open behind his glasses, his eyelids hung heavy and dark shades sat under them, their presence almost striking against his pale skin. He brought his bat printed mug up to his chapped lips—one side of it chipped at the rim, proving that it’d been around for quite some time—and he sighed at the first swallow of coffee.

“You feeling okay? You seem…” Frank knew what he wanted to say, but couldn’t help but to hold back the words for at least a second, still not being able to calculate if the brothers were on the same sassy wavelength at the moment. “A bit tired.” Frank finally said after earning a questioning look from him.

Mikey stared down into his mug for a moment. “Yeah, I kind of am.” He seemed to settle on saying, a small, lopsided smile appeared on his face. “I couldn’t get too much sleep last night.” Frank could name one reason as to why he probably didn’t.

Frank hummed, drinking from his mug to buy time before he spoke, every sentence or joke he wanted to spew in the moment getting caught in his throat. He figured he should probably go for the ‘ normal ’ route instead of the ‘ acting like a little shit ’ route he liked to go down just for the hell of it most of the time.

“And I take it as you gotta work today too?”

“Yup.” He planted both of his palms on the counter, leaning his weight on to the surface, sighing. “But that’s not really a big problem, it’s just a comic book store. I mean, how hectic can it get in there, y’know?” Mikey then downed his cup of coffee in one last gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once he placed it into the sink right beside them. “It’s not a demanding job, so I’ll be fine.” Frank hummed in agreement, his own mug still warm in his hands as he simply held on to it. Drinking from it suddenly became an afterthought.

“When do you have to be in?” Frank asked, staring into the dark liquid. After his short run-in with Gerard, staying in the apartment all day didn’t sound like such an awesome idea, he most likely wanted to be left alone for today.

“By twelve,” Mikey started to make his way back to his room, his long limbs seemed to drag. “Tuesdays are usually slow.” He yawned, pushing his door open.

“Do you think I could tag along? Comic books sound really good right now,” Mikey stopped right in his tracks and slowly turned to look at him. “Why?” He asked, he genuinely appeared to be confused, as if Frank was speaking in a different tongue. 

“Why not?” He finally sat his mug down next to Mikey’s in the sink, then he stood up off the counter, shuffling against the kitchen tile—his feet were starting to grow cold and restless, he felt as though he had stood in one spot for way too long. Mikey sent him a warning glare—he most likely thought that Frank was just out to cause trouble, or to probably poke fun at where he worked.

“What?” Frank gasped loudly, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. By being able to slip into this rather foolish act, Frank was able to easily push away his thoughts from before; the ones that were acutely aware of Gerard’s standoffish attitude earlier, the same ones that didn’t want to move on from it for whatever reason.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He added once he realized Mikey’s look and silence showed no end. What made the situation even more taut was that Frank couldn’t sense the slightest bit of amusement radiating from his statue-like face. 

“I mean, opportunities to jump on new game projects have been basically nonexistent lately—so I don’t have much work to do in that department right now—and I don’t have band practice today, ‘cause it was fucking pushed back until tomorrow–”

“Ok, fine.” Mikey sighed, burying both his hands into his hair and ruffling it—as if any amount of stress he held could be shaken out just like that from his head. “It’s not like I could stop you from following me somehow anyways, ‘cause I’m sure you’d try.” He then disappeared into his room, leaving it open just a crack.

“Aw, how do you know me so well?” Frank clasped his hands together and held them up under his chin, teasing. He didn’t know why he was the way that he is, but he loved it.

“Be ready in 30 minutes. No later and I mean it. I wanna leave early.” Mikey yelled out from behind his door.

“Yes, sir!” Frank laughed as he retreated to his own room.

***

When he entered the small comic book store, he was submerged by the smell of old paper, and somewhere under that scent hid the earthy smell of wood. The smell was weirdly comforting and reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on who.

“Welcome to the great arena.” Mikey said, a small smirk rested on his face. He left Frank’s side, heading straight for a small checkout counter to the right of them. Just below the surface of the counter sat comic books, all laid out on display behind its shiny glass case. The amount of colors, shapes, and the variety of characters made something switch inside of Frank. He’d been to many comic book stores before—and this one wasn’t any different from them—but every time he’d step into one, he could never get tired of the feeling that it gave to him on a fancy, velvet pillow.

Suddenly, he wanted to touch everything. Look at everything that there was to look at, and bounce from cramped shelf to cramped shelf, emptying out his pockets in the process. Mikey most definitely wouldn’t mind the extra money that could go towards their rent.

“This is fucking awesome.” Frank finally breathed. He was sure his eyes were as big as saucers as he looked over the old shelves, their colorful paint chipping at the corners.

“I’m glad you think so,” A scruffy guy appeared beside Mikey at the counter. Frank had been so entranced, he hadn’t noticed him come out from the door in the far back. “Hey, I’m Matt—or just Otter. Welcome to the shop.” He greeted him, giving a small wave, then turned to Mikey. “Good to see you nice and early, Mikey.”

“Hi, Otter. This is my friend and roommate, Frank. He’s just visiting for today.” He said in his usual flat tone, but nonetheless, he seemed to be happy to introduce the two. “And Frank, Otter is my boss, he owns this place.”

Frank lifted his hand to give him a small wave. The guy gave off a fairly comforting, laid back vibe, so Frank had no problem with letting an easy smile rest on his face. “Hello, Mr. Mikey’s boss,” He smirked, stuffing his hands into his shredded denim pants pockets. “I can’t wait to follow Mikey here at least once a week so I can blow my whole paycheck.” 

“Shit, I can’t wait for you to do that either.” Otter laughed, faint lines appeared around his eyes. “This kid is funny—ain’t he, Mikey?” He gave him a slight nudge on the shoulder. 

“Eh, more like a slight pain in the ass.” Mikey leaned against the glass counter, using the palm of his hand to prop his head up—his eyelids still looked heavy, but he still smiled at the two. Frank remained quiet, because it wasn’t like he could disagree. He knew what he could be at times.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to the shop for now. I’m gonna step out for some lunch.” Otter patted Mikey on the shoulder and stepped away from the counter, making his way to the singular glass door. “And I shouldn’t have to say this—even though I do trust you, Mikey—but no ‘ just-because-you’re-my-friend ’ discounts if he does end up buying somethin’.” He paused, looking back just as his hand touched the metal doorknob, then he looked at Frank. “No offense, by the way. Just business.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, alright, got it. Go ahead before the line at the pizzeria gets longer than it already is.” Mikey huffed, glaring at him from behind his glasses. “Just making sure.” Otter finally left through the door, a small bell chiming behind him.

“Very interesting boss you got there,” Frank finally moved from the spot he found himself glued to ever since he entered the store, starstruck. “He seems chill though.” He walked up to a medium-sized glass display cabinet that sat in the middle of the space—all kinds of DC action figures sat behind its thick glass, he almost didn’t want to take his eyes off of all the colorful plastic.

“I don’t know if interesting is the word, but he’s definitely something.” Mikey pulled a wooden chair underneath himself and sat down behind the counter, his long legs stretched out to the side. Then he got out a comic book of his own and began to flip through its pages. He made himself comfortable quickly.

Frank hummed, looking back to the figures, his eyes landing on a Batman figure. The figure was highly detailed—his muscles seemingly sculpted smoothly to fit snugly in his suit covered in different shades of gray, some lighter and darker than others. The only other colors on the figure were the gold on his chest and utility belt. His cape draped behind him as he stood tall—the navy blue of the cape almost appeared black. In a way, the plastic makeshift cape reminded him of the way Gerard’s hair laid over his shoulders. Which probably wasn’t as a good thing as he thought at first, and that Gerard should probably wash his hair more so it wouldn’t appear so stiff—but that’s not what he meant. He remembered Gerard with his old Batman mug clutched in his hands earlier that morning, he probably liked Batman. Now that Frank really thought about it, it didn’t seem that out of character for a guy like him. 

“When does your shift end?” Frank spoke over his shoulder.

“At six.” He answered simply, his glasses hung low on the bridge of his nose as his eyes were glued to whatever comic he was reading at the moment. “So make yourself comfortable if you plan on hitching a ride with me back home. Or y’know…find your way back again, you did just fine last time.” 

Frank sucked at his teeth, he figured he’d be just fine with the amount of content around him—it was the thought of having to stay in one spot the whole time that made his eye twitch. He walked deeper into the small store, the lights just a bit dimmer in the back and the hardwood floor feeling sticky beneath his worn out shoes. 

There were so many titles, Frank didn’t know which one to look at first. His eyes landed on a comic from the X-Men series just before his mind began to drift. Gerard obviously liked comic books—he had made at least a million of them based on Mikey, and that’s what his job was. He made comic books, right? He never leaves the apartment, so that’s probably what he does behind his constantly locked door, making silly little cartoons. Frank giggled to himself, Gerard really had dedication. Frank bent down into a squat, resting one hand in front of him on the dirty floor to keep his balance, and looked at the few lower shelves. There were a few titles he didn’t recognize—it’d probably be good for him to start with those.

For a second, he wondered what were Gerard’s favorite comics, or the one he treasured above all else. Mikey probably knew what they were. Just as he was standing up, someone entered through the glass door, the soft ping of the bell further announcing their presence. Up until then, it had only been Frank and Mikey in the store.

“Hello, welcome to Paradox Comics.” He heard Mikey chirp, his voice far sweeter than he had ever heard it be. “Feel free to let me know if you need any help with anything.”

“Thank you, I’ll be just fine, though.” Frank looked to the front. A short woman with blonde hair walked past the counter, and out of Frank’s sight into an aisle just beside him, it seemed to be a small section labeled ‘ manga ’. She didn’t look prepared to check out any time soon, and so Frank took that as an opportunity to approach Mikey.

“Hey,” He appeared beside the counter—beside a Mikey who still looked incredibly exhausted. “Mikey.” He whispered, trying to keep the same quiet atmosphere of the space. He could’ve been obnoxious and spoke in his rather loud and assured voice—maybe just to reach his daily task of people to playfully piss off every day—but then he decided against it. The poor woman across from them probably just wanted to shop for her manga in peace, and he wouldn’t want to be the cause of Mikey having some complaint filed under his name, so he’d play it safe just for today. “Mikey.” He tried again after no answer. 

“Yeah,” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, making the frames graze his hairline. “What’s the matter?”

“I assume you like comic books, right?” He started off, not completely sure if should come to him and flat out say, ‘ Hey, I was just over there thinking about your brother—as one does— and now I want to know what his favorite comic is! And don’t ask me why because I don’t even know the answer to that!’ would be such an awesome conversation starter.

Mikey's eyes flickered down to the comic in his hands, then to the collection of comics right below him, visible through the shiny, bright glass of the counter. “No, I hate them. I can’t stand them and their childish themes.” He raised a sharp eyebrow, his chin still resting in his hand, making him appear incredibly nonchalant. Frank stared at him blankly, still waiting for his answer.

“Yes, god damn it. I like comics.” He finally answered.

“Does Gerard like comics, too?” He thought easing into the question would be a more tactical approach. 

“Have you even talked to him?” A fond, soft smile appeared on his face. “Of course he likes comics.” Then there was a pause. Frank stared at Mikey as if he was supposed to catch on or read his mind or something, and maybe he was staring too intently because Mikey pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes glancing around like he was waiting for something else. And who could blame him?

“Uh, is that all you wanted to ask?” Mikey leaned back in his wooden chair, away from Frank, folding his arms over himself. Then Frank smiled, pressing into the counter in front of him to make up for the space Mikey put in between them, the metal edge digging into his hip—but it was like it wasn’t even there. “Not really,” He beamed, and suddenly he couldn’t get his feet to keep still under him. “Do you know what his favorite comics are?” He then began to pick at his nails, chipping away at his already chipped black nail polish—his whole body seemed to be vibrating, really.

A smirk cracked through his once soft smile, then came a laugh. “So that’s what you were interrogating me about.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say I was interrogating you.” He shrugged, still rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind him. Frank had completely forgotten about the other woman in the store. “Are you in line?” She asked, two books were held closely to her chest. He turned around to make room for her at the counter, swatting a hand in her direction. “No, I’m not, go ahead.” 

Mikey quickly stood up, reaching for the items off the counter—Frank couldn’t quite catch the titles of the books, but two guys were on the cover, a gold border with flowers surrounding them. He wondered what genre that was. 

“Will that be all?” Mikey spoke, smiling like an idiot at the woman, his voice light and easy. Based on what Frank had seen at the bar a few days ago and the look plastered on his face right now—half of Jersey must have this guy’s number. 

“Yes, that’s it.” She smiled back, sliding a few dollars over the counter, then she left just as silently as she came. Now it was Frank’s turn to smile. 

“The fuck was that?” He bit down on his lip ring to hold back a loud laugh that was just begging to slip from out of his throat.

“What was what?” Mikey sat back down in his seat—the Mikey he knew now wearing the face he was much more comfortable with. 

“Nothing, man,” He chuckled. “Back to what I was asking you.” Mikey gave him a puzzled look, making Frank roll his eyes. And to think Gerard called him a dog yesterday—even though it made something deep in his stomach buzz, he thought it was unfair. How could he say that to him while his brother was right there under the same roof.

“Before you got distracted ,” Frank sighed. “I was asking you what Gerard’s favorite comics were.”

Mikey hummed, all the puzzle pieces were coming back to him, one by one. “Why do you wanna know?” Frank’s question seemed to amuse him. 

“Is it a crime to want to know?” He shot back with the same playful venom—if Mikey wanted to play smart, so could he.

“No, I just think…it’s interesting.” He clearly played around with the words in his head before he decided to say them. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” 

“I dunno, I guess I didn’t think to until now—and I think you can guess why.” He threw a hand behind him, limply gesturing to the piles and rows of comic books. Mikey hummed, as if he was thinking of continuing the banter, or if this was some sort of negotiation thing. Frank didn’t know why he was being so difficult about it—but it wasn’t like he hated a challenge of some sort.

“What would I get out of it if I told you?” Mikey finally decided on it, Frank saw him crossing his legs under the counter. So this was serious?

“I don’t know, the fuck do you want? It’s not like I’m asking you to slide me over his number,” Frank laughed, accidently imagining what it would be like if he did just that—it would probably be embarrassing, even for him. “I just wanna know his favorite comic, that’s all.”

“If I tell you, all I ask is that you give him some space for a bit.” Mikey drew out sternly, like he really needed Frank to understand what was coming out of his mouth. Frank cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, stuck for a second, making sure he actually heard what he thought he heard.

Give him some space ? Was Frank overbearing? Did Gerard want Mikey to say something about it for him and this ‘ negotiation ’ thing was just a way he could bring it up without it appearing so sudden? Yet, it still felt sudden to Frank. If Gerard was feeling so suffocated, he could’ve just said so.

Frank felt his eyebrows and lips twist without meaning for them to. “Why? Did he ask you to ask me that?” Unlike before, Frank stood still. His limbs no longer felt as though they were buzzing, but like they were frozen. “No, don’t get the wrong idea,” Mikey held his hands out to him, as if he was trying to calm him down. He didn’t look mad—at least he didn’t think so, but then again he didn’t carry around a pocket sized mirror. “This is coming from me, not him, alright? I’m sure Gee enjoys your presence just as much as you do his,” Frank could feel his muscles relax just before they tensed again, the feeling putting him in a state of confusion and he wasn’t so sure he liked it all that much. “But for the next few days, I need you to give him some space. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s going through a bit of a…confusing time right now.”

It felt as though all defense alarms that were blaring inside of Frank’s head were switched off—so it wasn’t him and it wasn’t Gerard making Mikey say something of the sorts. “Um, yeah, I think I noticed alright.” Frank thought back to this morning and Gerard’s almost cranky attitude.

A group of teenagers walked into the store, their loud voices and laughs making Mikey lean back in over the counter that separated them. “Well, if you could do that for me—and him—you’ve got a deal.” Frank thought it was stupid. To leave Gerard alone for a bit all because he wants to know the simple answer to a simple question—it was unfair, it felt like Mikey was asking for too much. But at the same time, it wasn’t like putting some space between them would be so hard to do, Frank figured.

“Sure, whatever.” It wasn’t like he was attached to him—that would be stupid considering he’d only known Gerard for about a month—so maybe the deal wasn’t as unfair as he thought.

“There ya go.” Mikey laughed, looking over Frank’s shoulder at the teens behind him—probably looking to see if he actually had to do his job. “He’s kind of a simple dude. I know he likes stuff like Doom Patrol, Watchmen…” He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling—or not really looking, but thinking. Frank listened intently, picking at his nail polish again, leaning in to make sure he caught the names of each title. “Marshal Law—he has a whole damn shelf of it at home. Even Akira, he likes that too—have you ever heard of Akira? Those comics are like the size of fucking phonebooks, but Gee says he likes them a lot. From what he told me, it's like based on the atomic bomb being dropped on Japan–”

“You’re a lot like him, aren’t you?” Frank shook his head, laughing. Apparently Gerard wasn’t the only one who could just take off rambling.

He pushed his glasses back up his face—he kind of did fit the ‘ nerd ’ stereotype. “Sorry, sorry. Um, Hellboy?” He said as if he was asking Frank to confirm. “He likes that for sure, I have the first issue of it, right? And I swear, he borrows it at least every two weeks to reread it—but for some reason it always comes back to me more crumpled than it was before. I try to tell him to keep his room and other things at least slightly neat and put together—but no, he–”

“So, from what I got from that is that Gerard likes Hellboy, but he doesn’t have his own copy?” Frank cut him off before he could get any further down into the rabbit hole he found himself in.

“Yes,” Mikey nodded firmly, almost like a silent ‘ thanks ’ for saving him. “Why? What, are you gonna buy one for him?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Nah, just wanted to know.” Frank shrugged, stepping away from the counter. “I’m gonna let you get back to work, wouldn’t want you getting fired.” He nodded over to the group of teens who were growing more and more rowdy by the second, one almost knocking over a pile of comics set up on a side table.

“Shit.” Frank just barely heard Mikey breathe as he ambled over to the short, dim shelves of comics in the back just like he had done when he first came in—but now he knew what to look for to pass the time.

***

“See, I try to cut some of these kids some slack—’cause y’know, not all of them are horrible, but fuck, it’s hard. It’s like they want someone to say something to them. Otter probably thinks I wasn’t keeping a close eye on the place now.”

Mikey rubbed at his temples and squeezed his eyes shut as the two entered the apartment, away from the nipping cold of the evening air. “I need to take a fucking crash. Like right fucking now.” He toed off his shoes before dragging his seemingly heavy legs into his room, quietly shutting the door behind him with a quiet, ‘ G’night ’. 

“Night.” Frank said to no one really. He toed off his own shoes and made his way to his room, stripping off his hoodie as he moved down the hall. 

Once he shut his door behind him, he sank down into his bed, pulling the medium-sized plastic bag he had in front of him—admiring the comic book wrapped loosely in plastic, ‘ Paradox Comics ’ in a red bold across the bag.

Okay, so maybe he did end up finding a Hellboy comic and maybe he did end up buying it—not without Mikey giving him shit for it first though.

The fuck is that? Frank recalls Mikey’s twisted face, like he was disgusted.

Okay, I know how it looks, and it’s not for him—it’s for me. I read it and I like it, so I wanna buy a copy.

Which wasn’t a complete lie. He did read it in the back of the store and he did enjoy it..

His skin felt grimy—sitting on a sticky carpet all day didn’t make him feel like the cleanest person in the world, so he figured a quick shower would be nice. He threw the comic beside him on the bed and got up, stripping the rest of his clothes off before he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the bathroom across the hall.

Once he was out, his skin feeling fresh along with a fresh pair of gray sweat pants and a black tank top, his gaze met with the comic on his bed—the one he almost forgot about. He ran a hand through his wet hair strands as he grabbed it with the other, sighing. Mikey never specified when the ‘ no contact with Gerard ’ thing would start, just this once would be fine.

He left his room, glancing at Mikey’s room door down the hall just beside Gerard’s—Mikey had to have been asleep by now. But still, he walked as quietly as he could over to where Gerard always was, behind his door, shut off to the world. He stood there for a few seconds longer, muffled heavy vocals and guitar coming from behind the door, before he lifted a hand to knock.

At first, he wasn’t sure if Gerard would hear him over the music and he began to worry—the thought of a cranky Mikey waking up because of his loud knocks against Gerard’s room door made him nervous—but it was when the music paused and was replaced by a few shuffles and a muffled, ‘ shit! ’, that those worries melted away. Gerard had heard him somehow—he wouldn’t have to knock again, or any harder to catch his attention. Frank’s hands clutched around the comic, but then he panicked trying to smooth it back out just as Gerard cracked open the door, only one of his eyes visible to Frank.

“Yes?” He said simply, his voice high and light. Suddenly, all words felt caught in Frank’s throat—why hadn’t he rehearsed what he was going to say before he came to talk to him? Why did he even feel like he needed to?

“Hi—Hey, sorry to bother you.” Frank looked down to the comic, Gerard’s face, the comic, then to Gerard’s fingers curled around the lower part of the door—it almost looked like he was painfully digging his long nails into the wood, but Frank shook off the silly thought. “I went to the comic book store with Mikey today and—and we were talking about our favorite comics—and whatever, ‘cause I was bored and kinda needed suggestions on what to read,” Jesus, Mikey and Gerard weren’t the only one’s who liked to ramble. “So, I asked Mikey what your favorite comics were—’cause I was just curious—and he said you liked Hellboy and that you didn’t have a copy of your own so—so, I kinda bought one for you. ‘Cause you looked like you were in a shitty mood earlier, and y’know, maybe it’d make you feel better for a bit? Or is that stupid?” He spoke much quicker than he intended to.

He glanced back up to Gerard face, his hazel eyes seemingly stuck to something on Frank’s neck, then down to the comic. Just as Frank noticed that he was staring at it, he held it out for him to take it, his hands feeling abnormally clammy. 

Gerard reached out to touch the corner of the comic, as if he was checking to see if it was real, or to see if Frank would snatch it back. A tight lipped smile appeared across his face as he opened his door wider, letting more of his face and ragged pajamas show. “So you got this for me because I was in a shitty mood this morning?” 

Frank nodded, holding the book in his hand maybe a bit too firm, absentmindedly chewing on his lip ring.

“And Mikey told you I liked this?” He spoke in a low whisper. Frank nodded again, still holding out the comic for Gerard to take, his face felt like it could melt off at any second.

Then suddenly, Frank was scooped up into Gerard’s chilly embrace—he bent down slightly, allowing his face to hide in the crook of Frank’s neck. Frank could just barely feel his cold lips brush against his bare shoulder—they felt oddly moist.

“Thank you, Frankie,” He spoke, his long greasy hair almost completely blocking Frank’s vision. “I fucking love it.” Gerard squeezed around his chest, the hold practically suffocating, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. Instead, he giggled, wrapping his arms over Gerard’s and gently rubbing small circles over from what he could reach on his back.

“You’re kind of crumpling it.” Frank laughed again once he realized the comic was jammed somewhere between their chests. Under his nose, Gerard smelled like a weird newspaper and coffee—without meaning to, he inhaled the scent, burning it into his nostrils.

“‘M’sorry,” He spoke, still holding on to Frank, somehow even tighter than before—it was actually starting to hurt. Gerard rubbed his forehead against Frank’s shoulder before stepping back, now holding the comic book. His eyes seemed to hold less of a hazel color than it did before, the color now a deep red, almost black—but it was far too dim in the living room to be able to tell. Frank admired Gerard’s face without trying to make it seem so obvious, he had pencil smudges littered all over his round cheeks. He’d probably been drawing all day.

“I didn’t know you could be sweet, I figured you were just a little shit.” Gerard kept his tight lipped smile, his unkept hair falling into his face as his eyes flitted over Frank.

“Well, that’s not a nice assumption to have of people.” He found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, like he couldn’t stand still for even a second—he was chewing on his lip ring so hard, he wouldn’t even be surprised if it started bleeding.

“Not an assumption if it’s true and I have proof.” He took a step back into his room—the space still completely dark behind him. You’d think for an artist, his space would be brightly lit. He held the comic against his hip as he placed a hand back onto the door, readying to close it.

“Oh, yeah? What proof do you have?” Frank seemingly struggled to stay in one spot, resisting the urge to step forward every time Gerard stepped further into his room, returning the door to just a crack in the wall.

“If you’re so blind to your own bullshit, then I don’t think I can help you.” He said before completely shutting the door, the soft click whispering ‘ Goodnight ’ in his place. 

Frank reluctantly turned away, walking back to his room, the ground under him feeling like an unfamiliar mush. His feet felt heavy and all of a sudden his face hurt—he’d been smiling way too hard for way too long.

He laid under his dog bone blanket, unable to sleep, turning the events of today over in his head. It was fun—and hilarious—to witness Mikey in his ‘ Working mode ’. To read comics all day, even Hellboy, Frank could understand why Gerard liked it. The idea of a normal guy stuck in a weird position and he just so happened to be a demon—it just sounds like something he’d like.

He’d have to actually thank Mikey in the morning, because in all honesty, he liked how Gerard said ‘ Frankie ’.

Notes:

I'm posting this while I'm sick, send help, my brain is fried. Ok, but seriously, I really like this chapter. Idk about you...which is why you should tell me!! Lemme know what you think!!

(Also, the Long Live Tour starts today in Seattle. I'm so fucking excited for new content and stuff that I could throw up. And I already have. Between me and you, I hope Gerard shows up in his beautiful dresses/skirts again. I just wanted to mention that real quick.<3)

Chapter 7: When A Statue Bleeds

Notes:

Hiii, I'm alive!! Sorry for taking so long with this one. But I'm also not sorry cuz like...I'd rather take forever to give my readers something good and long rather than something crappy and short. SO. Please enjoy this chapter, I had fun writing it as always!!

Warning for a LOT of blood mention in this chapter and some disgusting (yet kinda hot) wound licking and finger sucking!! :D (But you shouldn't need one cuz this is a vamp fic. You know what you signed up for.)

Everything has been pissing Gerard off lately.

From his tight ass pants to the irritating itch buried deep down in his throat. From the thoughts that lingered in his mind, to the ones that kept on slipping away from him, no matter how hard he tried to focus on them. There were too many things that he actually needed to think about, then there were the things that didn’t fucking matter, but he kept drifting back to them.

What mattered the most right now though, was that Gerard needed to feed on someone, and soon.

He sat at the bar of some club—he couldn’t even remember the name of the one Mikey had dragged him to this time—itching and scratching at his neck profusely. He hugged himself, trying to keep from scratching, but that didn’t last very long before he was back at it again. He could feel his nails lengthening and sharpening, digging and peeling into his own skin at each scratch; he could feel each and every time the cold, plastic skin broke, but then worked at light speeds to repair itself. The restoration only encouraged him to scratch more. He didn’t have any reason to stop, he’d be fine right after, no scars would be left behind.

“Hey, you good?” Some guy was suddenly standing next to him. Instead of sitting down on the stool next to him, he stood over Gerard.

“Oh, yeah, no. I’m fine,” He smiled, he didn’t try to hide his fangs so early on this time. He knew this guy was going to see them very soon. “I probably just need a drink, or something.” Gerard stuffed his hands under his thighs, trying to resist the urge to claw out his own throat.

“Hm,” Gerard looked over the fairly toned guy as he brought a hand to his mouth, like he was contemplating something for a second. “Would you mind if I bought you one? A cutie like you shouldn’t have to spend money in a place like this.” 

The urge to roll his eyes was almost stronger than the urge was to claw out his own esophagus. It was a cheesy line he heard in places like this all the time and not even just speaking from experience. Sometimes, he overheard the same kind of douchey guys proudly say that shit in the ears of other men and women. It was the thought that counted though, Gerard decided to stick with that conclusion.

“Nah, I don’t mind at all.” He tried to keep his voice level. Gerard sensed the stranger’s blood coursing through his veins, there was nothing appealing about it at all. But the fact that he knew it was there, just underneath and could satisfy his thirst, was enough to make him jittery.

Next thing he knew, he was feeling the burn of the alcohol sliding down his already scorching throat and feeling the rough brick of a wall just outside the bar scratching against his back. Unfamiliar lips pressing against his, messy and rough, but he pushed back with just as much ferocity.

“What kind of fucking freak are you?” He pulled back, pushing his brown hair from his face. Gerard could feel the cold brick wall behind him digging into his shoulder blades, even through his old, duct taped leather jacket. The grimy bathroom stalls had been filled and they certainly weren’t going back to the apartment, so this was their next best option. “Are these like fake teeth or what? Is that some kind of weird kink?” He arched a thick eyebrow.

“No, they’re real. Wanna feel ‘em?” He whispered, pulling him back in and burying his face into his neck. He smelled rancid and sour, Gerard scrunched up his nose as he took in the unfavorable scent.

“Sure, if you’re into that pain thing—shit, I am too.” He pushed a leg between Gerard’s, further pressing him into the wall. He opened his mouth slightly, allowing the very tips of his teeth to drag along the base of the other man’s neck, small beads of blood followed behind in a thin trail. He then went over the red rising lines with his tongue, feeling a shiver go through the stranger above him as he rested his forehead against Gerard’s temple.

The taste alone made him shiver. Everyone had a distinct taste—that Gerard knew, even if he hadn’t been…stuck like how he was for very long to know everything there was to know. Some people tasted like honey, others tasted like a flat soda, if Gerard really had to think of a comparison. But this guy—he tasted like fucking battery acid. 

He pulled away, trying to wipe the taste from his tongue, saliva gathering and pooling in his mouth. He was a monster, he shouldn’t care this much about the taste of his food. He should be taking what he could get. But fuck, what was wrong with this dude? “Are you like a vampire?” A throaty laugh sounded in Gerard’s ear, his dismay still refusing to leave him be. 

He really hated that word. Even if he was one, he didn’t like to acknowledge that most of the time. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to deal with it, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to face it, he just wasn’t ready to.

“Mm, think of me more as just a guy who has a blood kink and abnormally sharp teeth.” He tried to hide the layers of disgust that were quickly building in his tone.

“Well, that’s a new one. A little weird, but I won’t say that I don’t like it.”

“Is it fine if I bite you? I promise it won’t hurt too much.” At this point Gerard wanted to get it over with. He was already having a bad day for reasons he couldn’t quite place, and this guy’s taste wasn’t making shit better. He wasn’t looking forward to his flavor that was for sure going to linger for awhile, but he also wasn’t looking forward to the dry and scratchy feeling that would never go away unless he did this. And of course he wouldn’t want to lash out on someone like Mikey or Frank and do something he’d regret. 

He could try to go back into the bar and find someone else—someone who smelled and tasted better—but even that ran a risk. The guy in front of him probably wouldn’t be easy to shake off and who knew if he could even find someone else tonight in the first place? He had to at least drink enough to hold him over for another day or so—he tried not to take too much from people anyway.

“Can I bite you back?” He laughed, placing his hands on Gerard’s hips and pressed their bodies impossibly closer together. His thigh pressed firmly against Gerard’s crotch, making a small moan slip past his lips. Even if he smelled unpleasant—Gerard couldn’t lie, he was good with his tongue and hand placement. “If so, then hell yeah.” He smirked, most likely enjoying the look that made itself comfortable on Gerard’s face.

Every once in a while, cars drove past the opening of the alleyway. Nothing was stopping anyone from choosing to take this pathway home or to wherever—nothing like a bathroom stall door or even a tall dumpster for them both to hide behind. The knowledge made Gerard slightly anxious, but at the same time, it made him feel excited. Sometimes, on nights like this, it wasn’t all just about feeding; he had fun too.

Gerard raised his mouth to the man’s neck, baring his teeth again, but this time much wider. Slowly, he placed the tips of his teeth against his skin, giving the guy time to back out if he wished. He stretched his neck out a bit more to Gerard, and that was all he needed. Bracing himself—either in fear for the guy to push him away or in fear for his poor taste buds—he drove his teeth into his skin, the thick battery aci–blood filling his mouth. His hands clenched and twisted around the guy’s loose hoodie, the leg between his own starting to rub against him harder and faster. 

There were too many sensations coming to Gerard at the same time—the awful taste in his mouth mixed with the wonderful feeling between his legs. He knew he was sporting a full boner by now and if not, it was the rancid milk in his mouth killing it. He retracted his teeth before it did just that, only swallowing about a mouthful of blood, which wasn’t nearly enough. He could’ve taken another mouthful or so without hurting him. With the amount he took, it’d probably hold him over for only the next few hours, especially since he had already been starving.

A small, dull bite to his neck pulled him from his thoughts and back what was happening in front of him.

“That didn’t hurt in the slightest,” He laughed, sucking on his neck in a way that was much more humane. “Felt like a little needle.” His cold hands rucked up Gerard’s tight t-shirt, pulling at the soft, equally cold flesh above his hips. Gerard’s head felt like it was buzzing—he wished that he could enjoy the moment for what it was, but the taste in his mouth was distracting all of his senses. Honestly, what did this guy put into his body to make himself taste like this?

Gerard wished he had something better to wash down the thick bullshit—suddenly, something came across his mind, or more like someone . 

Frank probably tasted better than him. The amount of times his scent had clung to Gerard’s nostrils, every time he passed by in the apartment or sat close to him, was insane. It was a smell that carried Gerard and made him feel all floaty, in a way. It screamed at him, telling him to pay attention, to take a closer look—to focus on the scorpion on his neck and the skin surrounding it. It was a smell that lured him in, but he’d always try his best to ignore it. It was just something that happened when things of his kind were around humans, especially ones they weren’t used to just yet.

There was a shift between his legs, squeezing him in his already compacted black jeans, but it felt amazing regardless. A small noise left his mouth as the other man licked a stripe up from the base of his neck to his ear. He kept his head buried in Gerard’s neck whilst he let his rough hands roam over his hips and just over his ass, pressing and tangling their legs together as they rocked against each other. The placement only made Gerard want to move his hips faster and harder.

Usually, he’d be talking a whole lot by now—saying whatever—to get whoever he was with off, or even just for himself. Because he liked to hear himself talk, that being obvious. But this time around, he found himself being less talkative and more focused on the sensations of it all, and fuck, it felt weird. It usually wouldn’t go this way. He’d get his blood, have some fun, and then get the fuck out of there, back to his little cramped room like nothing had happened. Something was messing with his normally abnormal routine.

Gerard gripped harder onto his shoulders—with a lot more strength than what was most likely needed—and moved his hips against his thigh faster and harder, just like how he wanted to.

Without the feeling of a set of lips against his own or spewing dirty sentences, it was easy for Gerard to get stuck in his head and to just think . But he didn’t want to be able to think of anything, and it was making him feel frustrated. Just another thing to add to the list of things that were pissing him off, no matter how little they were.

His mouth grew slack and his eyebrows knitted as he felt his stomach tightening, he could feel that he was close. He licked his lips—which was a mistake because they were still coated in this guy's awful taste, he for sure was not going to lick them again and would just wipe them off later. 

Frank flashed across his mind again, his scent and how alluring it was. Gerard started to imagine how it’d be to bite into him. To finally look closer at his neck and see what was so determined to get his attention, to finally see what demanded his hungry eyes. To finally sink his teeth into the scorpion and figure out what taste the scent had to offer. Gerard moaned at the thought, allowing his hand to snake into the guy’s hair, lightly tugging at his wavy hair strands.

Shit, he hoped that he tasted far better than anyone he had ever had—especially better than the fucker in front of him. He leaned his head back against the hard wall behind him, his nose pointing up towards the dark sky. He was sure his fangs were on full display now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. No one had come down the alley yet. He didn’t even try to fight it anymore. He welcomed the thoughts of Frank with open arms, allowing them to fill his head as he got pressed up against a wall by someone entirely different.

His warmth probably felt incredibly good to swallow, like swallowing hot chocolate after playing outside in the snow all day as a kid, letting the heat and comfort take over your freezing body. Something stupid like that. To watch the color drain from his skin as Gerard continued to drink from him probably felt good too, taking much more than he needed, because he’d never want to stop, nor for the feeling to end. Okay, maybe that was a bit much. But for the monster that he was, nothing could ever be enough and anything meant nothing.

After a few more shifts and a couple more thoughts of his roommate ’s blood , Gerard was painting the inside of his jeans, a high pitched whine being the only warning the other guy got.

“Ow, shit!” The man raised his voice, very much over the whisper he’d been doing so far. “ That fucking hurt, dude.” He pulled away, seemingly looking over his shoulder at his back—but Gerard could barely pay any attention to him, little lights still crowding his vision as he tried to steady himself against the wall.

“What the fu– I’m fucking bleeding! More than I agreed to!” Anger quickly sprouted into his voice, Gerard instantly forced himself to stand.

“Wha– shit, I’m so sorry.” His eyes landed on the guy’s blood soaked hand, glistening in the dirty, yellow street lights that reached into the alley. 

“Why are your nails so fucking sharp?!” He was reaching behind him, most likely trying to inspect how bad it could possibly be. Blinded by his orgasm, Gerard hadn’t meant to hold onto him so hard—this never happened before, usually he could control his strength. Why couldn’t he just focus?

“I’m sorry, I reall–um, lemme see the damage.” Gerard tried to collect himself, trying to unscramble his dead brains to find any solution to fix what he had done to this poor man. Sure, his blood reeked, but that didn’t mean he had to get clawed to shreds through his clothes. Gerard truly felt bad, and reached for his shoulder.

“No, fuck you. You’re definitely not hot enough for all of this bullshit.” He loosely gestured to his shoulder and smacked Gerard’s hand away, he then turned away from him and started out of the alleyway, mumbling useless things. Something about ‘ having to find someone else to get him off ’ and ‘ how this was so fucking annoying ’.

Gerard stared at his back as he stormed off, blood stained his navy blue hoodie over his shoulder blade, making it appear much darker around the four ragged slits in the cloth. 

Wow, seriously, fuck that guy. But then again, Gerard couldn’t blame him. 

Now alone in the alley, he shifted in the same spot on the pavement, scared to move because of the mess in his pants quickly growing colder and colder by the second. And he still had to find Mikey to head home. Gerard sighed, his head hanging low, not exactly excited about that in the slightest. It was looking like he was going to have to use his jacket once again as a cover…which totally didn’t look suspicious at all.

Eventually, Gerard did leave his spot with it held in front of him, uncomfortably walking back into the bar in search of his brother.

***

With Gerard’s awful driving skills and equally awful sense of direction, the sun was just starting to stripe across the early morning sky by the time the two got back into the apartment. Mikey wobbled against the door as Gerard rooted his pockets for the apartment key that somehow got separated from the car keys. It was a miracle that it hadn’t got lost back at the bar.

“Geez, how many drinks did you have?” Gerard tried to support his little brother and make him place one foot in front of the fucking other, but the plan wasn’t quite working out how he wanted it to.

“I don’t fucking know man, get off my back.” Mikey mumbled, his head hanging low and his glasses just barely hanging on to the tip of his nose. Gerard couldn’t tell how he felt exactly—if that was meant to be playful or just flat out rude. Booze tended to block his brother-to-brother mind reading powers.

“Fine.” Gerard rolled his eyes and removed his hands from Mikey’s back—the same ones that were trying to hold him up—and let him practically fall to the floor with a soft thump against the carpet.

“Ow,” Mikey rolled on to his side and curled up, his eyes peacefully screwed shut. “Fuck you, dude. I’m kinda going through a lot, so lemme have a few drinks.” He rubbed the side of his face into the carpet as if he was making himself comfortable.

Gerard’s ears felt as if they perked up. What could Mikey have possibly been going through? What was he feeling stressed about? That one short sentence made it incredibly easy for Gerard to get lost inside his head and drown himself in worries.

Was he being serious, or was that just the liquor talking? Sure, they’re living situation wasn’t the most comfortable in the world. Most of Mikey’s paycheck had to go towards rent, to groceries for himself and most importantly coffee for the both of them. Sometimes, if Gerard’s part in the making of a comic paid really shitty—or he just couldn’t find one to pick up in the first place—then he’d also have to pay for them to get into bars so Gerard could be the one to easily find something to eat. And it wasn’t like working at a fucking comic book store paid stupendously. They were clearly struggling; they hadn’t been looking for a roommate for fun.

Frank moving in was a big help for them, now that Gerard had really thought about it, his freelance songwriting paired with gigs on the side actually paid well. At least someone had their shit together. But even with Frank putting his two good cents in, what else could they have been stressing out about exactly? What could Mikey have been stressing out about and how come he hadn’t noticed until now, when he said it flat out? Or maybe he was looking too much into that one drunken, slurred sentence and they were fine. They were going to be fine if they kept going the way they had been, with an exception of a few minor changes, like Frank.

“Gerard?” A scratchy voice came from the hallway a few feet away from him and Mikey. Just short after the sound came another voice, one that was much louder and rough, but pleasant at the same time. He recognized the demanding sound, or more like the demanding smell that just so happened to call for him as well.

“F-Frank,” Gerard turned around to the hallway, his eyes landing on the shorter guy standing in the dim hallway. He was fully dressed in his shredded jeans and a heavy looking hoodie, along with his guitar held in its case hanging from his back.

“Uh, hi.” Gerard said, his eyes stuck on Frank’s figure. And just great, because could he not have found anything else better to say? It’s probably seven-something in the morning, they clearly just came back in from somewhere, most definitely smelling like booze, and Mikey’s halfway passed out on the floor—and the best thing he could fucking say was ‘ Hi ’?

Gerard mentally face palmed himself.

“Yeah, Hi.” His pretty lips pulled up into a thin smile, then he looked down to the floor. “Is he okay?” The scene was clearly amusing to him.

“U-Uh,” Gerard couldn’t pull his brain together to form coherent sentences, not even for a second. Not only was Frank standing in front of him right now, but his scent smelled much stronger than usual, and maybe that was because Gerard hadn’t properly eaten in a while. He knew that if he tried to talk too much, drool would end up spilling from his mouth. His fangs ached more and more the longer he stood there—he wasn’t trying to think too hard of his unique scent, but then again it was something impossible to ignore—so he knew that if he opened his mouth a little too wide, his fangs might come spilling out along with the pool of saliva gathering over his tongue.

“He’s fine. Just a little tired.” Gerard said softly, looking down to the carpet at Mikey, using his hair to hide away. His nails dug into the leather jacket still in his hand hovering over his crouch, the material putting up a good fight against his talons. “Um, what are you doing up so early anyway?” He said, trying to direct the conversation away from him and Mikey.

Frank shrugged, stepping out from the hallway and closer to the two, his hands shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie—he looked more relaxed than Gerard felt right now. “I gotta leave out early to catch the bus so I can meet with a few people for a project I managed to pick up, which is going to pay well…I hope. It’s for this small indie game and their budgets can be super limited sometimes—but then again it’s not really something I care about. I’m just here to have fun and play music, y’know?” He smiled, now standing in front of Gerard, Mikey didn’t even stir as his feet came next to his head.

Gerard swallowed hard, forcing at least a glass worth of saliva down his still somehow incredibly dry throat. Frank standing closer to him—bringing his disgustingly delicious scent with him as well—did not help Gerard to sort out whatever was going on with him at all. A small light was left on above the stove, it radiated from the kitchen beside them and refracted off of his face, emphasizing all of his sharp lines. That didn’t help Gerard out either. He just wanted to rush into his room to get a piece of paper and pencil to sketch him out just as he was, instead of from memory, like he had been doing.

“After that, my friend Neil and Tim are going to pick me up for a bit of practicing,” Frank’s eyes flickered down to his lips in a way that Gerard couldn’t miss, even if he had wanted to. “We try to get at least four hours in three times a week ‘cause it’s never good to let us all go rusty in between shows. I’m sure you get it, with all your art and shit. Like if you don’t draw, will you get rusty after a while?” He stared at Gerard with a gaze so attentive that it was almost scary, it made him acutely aware of how he stood and suddenly the jacket in his hand made him feel like an extreme idiot, which he was.

“E-Eh, well, yeah. Kinda.” Gerard tried his best to keep his responses short and sweet while also trying to avoid eye contact.

There was a moment of silence, Frank’s attention still drilled in on him as they stood there, but then he turned his head to look down at Mikey curled up on the floor—it felt as if a weight had lifted off of Gerard’s shoulders.

“Crazy night out?” He nodded down at him, nudging Mikey’s limp leg with his foot, looking amused as his lips pulled into a wide smile. “I can’t fucking wait to bother him with this later.” He sucked his lip ring into his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh too loud.

Would Frank feel hurt if he told them that they went out without inviting him? Gerard didn’t think he’d be that type of person as he was pretty laid back about everything, but it could never hurt to just wonder. “Yeah, we went out for a bit. Nothing too fun though.” He spluttered out quickly—he could feel his lips growing wet at the corners. He needed to get to his room and away from Frank.

An almost boyish giggle left his mouth as he rocked back and forth on his feet, seemingly unable to stay still. “Nothing too fun? Really? Dude, fucking look at him.” Frank pressed his foot to Mikey’s leg again and his eyes didn’t even flutter, he looked dead now that Gerard really thought about it. Shit, really how much did he have to drink?

“You look like you had fun, too.” His piercing, yet soft gaze landed back on Gerard. With his look came that same weight from before, crashing back down on his shoulders. He wasn’t drunk, he couldn’t get drunk, so how did it ‘ look like he had fun ’? The jacket couldn’t have been that obvious. “What do you mean?” Gerard said, finally allowing his eyes to meet Franks. His pretty eyes felt like they could swallow him whole, even if it was Gerard who wanted to do the eating.

“Did you like…get into a fight or something?” Frank laughed, removing a hand from inside of his pocket to point to his own mouth. “There’s like, some dried up blood on your bottom lip and a bit on your chin.” He gestured to his lips as if to prove his point, a faint line appeared between his eyebrows, he seemed just as worried as he was amused. 

Gerard’s dead heart felt as if it plummeted all the way to his ass—how could he have forgotten to properly wipe his mouth? Usually, Mikey would tell him if he missed anything, but he was already hammered by the time Gerard found him back at the bar, so his human mirror was out of commission. But even so, he should’ve gone into the crowded bathroom to rinse off his face in the weird, murky water in the sink. Shit, what should he say to Frank? That he did get into a bar fight? But even Frank knew by now that Gerard wasn’t like that. He might’ve been a blood sucking monster, but he was still a marshmallow.

“Here, lemme get it for you.” Frank smiled sweetly, pulling his sleeve over the palm of his hand and lifting it to Gerard’s face, then he paused. “Lick,” He said simply, and all of a sudden it was like he was so incredibly close to Gerard’s face, his scent right under his nose. Gerard froze, only able to stare back at him at the tip of his nose, Frank looked like he was standing on the tips of his toes to at least be level with Gerard. “What? Don’t look at me like that. It’s kinda dried up on there, so it’s not gonna come off without some kind of moisture.” He rolled his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So, just lick it.” He pouted his lip slightly, the action somehow perfect, almost as perfect as the furrow of his brows and the light pink spread out across his cheeks.

Gerard only stared, not sure of what to do—should he just back up or should he just let him help in the way that he wanted to, but why did he want to in the first place? He was dumbfounded and leaned away from him a bit, before he decided it couldn’t hurt to just let him. Maybe it was his hunger speaking, or maybe it just really wasn’t so bad. He slowly eased the tip of his tongue from behind his lips—further using his lips as a hood to keep his fangs hidden as well—and let it press and drag against the sleeve of Frank’s hoodie, slightly dampening the fabric. 

Frank smiled, his eyes pinching around the corners as he started to gently rub the skin around his mouth. He brought up his other hand to hold it underneath Gerard’s chin, his index finger softly holding his face still. After a few firm wipes from his bottom lip down to his chin, Frank pulled his hand away.

“There, you don’t look like some kind of monster anymore,” Frank smiled. He looked down to his sleeve and grimaced at the dark color that slightly soaked into his navy blue hoodie, but he shrugged and simply rubbed it against the thigh of his jeans. There was a slight pain in Gerard’s chest that only made itself known for a quick second before burying itself in him again—because it didn’t matter how much someone could try to scrub it anyway, he was always going to be ‘ some kind of monster ’; Frank just didn’t know that. “What happened to you anyway? There aren’t any cuts on your lips or chin.” Frank’s big eyes somehow became bigger as he stared up at Gerard.

“Nothing—why’d you do that?” Gerard looked away from him and back down to Mikey who was finally starting to show signs of life, his leg stretching out against the carpet.

“I’m just trying to help, Gee. You can put your claws away.” He rolled his eyes, laughing as he turned away from Gerard, heading for the front door.

“But isn’t that a bit nasty? It’s not blood ,” He tried lying through his sick teeth. It was a pitiful and weak lie that he knew wouldn’t convince anyone, not even Frank, but it was worth a try. “But even if it was , don’t you think it’s gross to just go out with dried up blood on your sleeve?” Even though Frank was long out of his sight, he made sure to keep all of his attention trained on Mikey.

“Nah, it’s not. You should see me after coming out of a wicked ass mosh pit, that’s much worse.” The smirk was audible in his voice. There were a few shuffles across the carpet, then the sound of the front door opening. “See you later, Gee. Make fun of Mikey for me until I get back.” 

An odd, unfamiliar shiver went down his spine as he heard the click of the door swinging shut—the feeling became worse as he distinctly listened for Frank’s feet padding down the loud, creaky steps. His body drew further and further away, taking most of his scent with him while the rest of it lingered in the apartment, under Gerard’s nose and in his memory.

He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts together. There was something wrong with him and he was focusing on all of the things that didn’t even matter.

“Mikey,” Gerard bent down and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to shake him gently. “C’mon, Mikey. Let’s get you to bed.”

Mikey lifted a hand—his eyes still screwed shut—and batted Gerard’s hand away, his nose scrunching up a bit. “Shut up, get off my back.” He slurred. “And fuck you.” He added as if it was an afterthought. Gerard rolled his eyes and proceeded to lift his brother off the floor by his armpits and towards his room.

***

It wasn’t hard considering that Gerard had amplified strength—something which he still hadn’t come to terms with just yet, but still thought it was kind of cool—he eventually, got Mikey into his room and into his bed, quietly slipping his shoes off for him and retreating back to his own quarters. Once he shut his own door behind him, he felt like he could finally breathe. Even though he didn’t exactly need to, doing the functions managed to bring him some sort of weird comfort and…nostalgia?

Gerard shook his head and sat on his messy bed, ripping off his shoes and clothes. He grimaced as he slid his boxers off and tossed them into a corner of his room; they probably weren’t going to see the light of day again. He stood up and moved towards his dresser right beside his desk, art supplies littered all over its surface. He should probably clean up in here sometime, just not today. He slid the drawer open and pulled out a clean pair of underwear—his number of clean underwear was dwindling, he sighed and threw himself back onto his bed, lifting his hips so he could slide on the boxers along with a random pair of pajama pants he picked up off the floor beside his bed. He’d hop in the shower later. He buried his nose into his sheets, the weird but comforting smell filling his nostrils, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had washed them.

Then suddenly something caught his attention, or more like it caught the attention of his nose, the smell—somehow stronger than the smell of his Star Wars sheets—gripping his face and forcing him to lift his head.

He looked across from his bed to his desk, on top of it was the Hellboy comic book Frank had given to him yesterday, all wrinkled and almost smothered in Frank’s smell. Gerard remembered yesterday how tightly he hugged him—which he hadn’t meant to do—the comic had gotten squished between them, further coating it with his smell. When he took it from him yesterday, this was something that he had already noticed. But with the height of his hunger, came the height of his senses, a small whiff of anything made Gerard’s head whirl. A small whiff of him made his head whirl.

It was him, Gerard finally pieced together. He was what Gerard had been so pissed about lately. He couldn’t get his dead mind to stray away from the little fucker, he couldn’t even have a proper hook up without thinking about him and it was causing him to fucking starve himself.

Gerard let his head fall roughly against the bed, his long hair splaying out beside him and he sighed heavily. He couldn’t hear Frank’s pulse as he usually could in the apartment around this time, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. Gerard sat up, sighing once more as he dragged his hands down his face, pulling at the cold skin.

He wasn’t going to do it, it’d be incredibly weird. But then again, drawing Frank without his knowledge was also a bit on the weird side and that was a line Gerard had already crossed. He wasn’t going to do it and he shouldn’t.

He stood up from his bed and sat at his desk, the chair creaking a bit under his weight. He hadn’t had a chance to read the comic yet—although he had already read Mikey’s copy plenty of times, he figured it would feel different to read something that was actually his own, yet he still hadn’t read it. He held the comic in both of his hands, staring at its dark red cover—it’s artwork Gerard had used as reference many times before for his own minor works or just for practice. He wondered if all of his memories related to the comic would now paint back to Frank.

He lifted the comic to his nose, breathing in the almost fainted smell of Frank along with the paper and ink. The more he inhaled, the more he could smell him and only him. If drawing him was weird, this was a whole new level.

***

Mikey had slept all day, Gerard wondered if he called out of work, or if he even had work today. Ever since he turned, time was one of the things that was hard to keep track of.

The place had felt off all day, he could hear Mikey’s steady heartbeat, but not the jerky, yet soothing sound of Franks. He held the comic book close to him as he sat at his desk, sketching out story boards that would probably never come to life, he had it beside him as he took a nap—not that he needed it, but for the sake of nothing else better to do—and was a little disappointed to find it crushed under him once he woke. He even brought it with him to the kitchen as he waited for his coffee to brew. He still hadn’t read it yet and as pathetic as it sounds, it felt nice to carry around with him. He wondered—and only for a quick second—when Frank was going to get back.

A knock came at his door just as he was giving the comic book another sniff, all remnants of Frank's smell were practically gone at this point, Gerard didn’t even know why he was smelling it anymore. He was going crazy.

“Yeah?” He called, throwing the comic book across his bed like it was suddenly doused in holy water. The door opened just a crack to reveal half of Mikey’s face.

“Hey, um,” He looked down to the floor, before letting his eyes meet Gerard’s. “I’m going out for a bit. I wanted to tell you before I left.” He spoke abnormally quiet. Maybe his hangover was severe.

“Oh, alright. How do you feel, Mikes?” Gerard stepped off of his bed, inching towards the door. “I made coffee, I left some for you in the pot, so it should still be warm. Maybe that’ll help your hangover.” He chuckled lightly, placing a hand on his brother's head and ruffling his hair. “You went a little overboard last night, stupid.”

“First off, you’re a fool to think I didn’t drink it already. I smell coffee, I go find coffee.” He laughed, swatting Gerard’s hand away. “And I’m not stupid. I knew I could trust you to get us home…one way or another.” Gerard rolled his eyes, his driving was certainly better than that of a drunk man, so he thought he should get a little more credit than that .

“Whatever. Where are you going anyways? You don’t usually go out—or at least not much.” Gerard turned to his desk chair and sat down, his eyes still flitting over Mikey as he stood in the doorway, his head lolled against the frame. He already wore a fairly heavy gray jacket over a black, loose necked t-shirt, his ratty jeans just barely bunching up at his ankles.

“U-Uh, nowhere super important, I’m just going to hang out with a friend.” He lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere that wasn’t Gerard. “I’m going over to Ray’s for a bit.” It seemed as if he forced the last part to come out of his mouth, but he clearly didn’t regret what he said, even if it did come with a bit of resistance. “He was able to get this cool, new video game and he invited me over to check it out. Some things just don’t change with him, y’know?” He laughed, his eyebrows slightly knitted. “He invited you too, y’know? But I know how paranoid you can get and how you’d rather keep the past in the past, so I just told him you were sick and wouldn’t wanna come–”

“Mikey, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain every little thing,” Gerard smiled in his direction. “I get it, go ahead and have some fun.” He felt as though his smile was a bit strained. In all honesty, he preferred if Mikey would stay with him, in the safe confinements of their little apartment—he knew that was selfish, but he couldn’t help the feeling, even as he tried to shove it down. “I’ll be okay, tell me all about that video game when you get back, yeah?” He gave his best smile, trying not to flash too much of his fangs. Sure, Mikey was used to them, but Gerard was positive he didn’t want that constant reminder of what his brother was.

“Yeah, okay. I won’t be gone for long.” Mikey said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile that wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He stood in the doorway for another silent moment, his arms slightly twitching by his side, almost like he wanted to reach for Gerard—but in the end he didn’t. “I promise I won’t stay for too long.” He said over his shoulder as he backed out of the room and started for the front door, Gerard watched as he slid on his beat-up sneakers. “Have fun, Mikes.” His face hurt from how hard he was smiling, maybe he was overdoing it a bit. Mikey grabbed his keys from the nearby kitchen counter, and then just like that, he had left.

Listening out for his brother’s heartbeat brought him a sense of comfort, too, just as much comfort as it had brought when he was listening for Frank’s—but right now, he had neither. He figured after he had turned, he’d feel a whole lot less, but it was the exact opposite. The hole inside of him felt a bit deeper and a bit wider.

He turned back into his room, leaving his door open just a crack, and then faceplanted into his mess of a bed. He felt pathetic—out of all of the shitty horror movies he had watched, he’d never seen any kind of monster act like such a baby. He felt out of place, no matter what form he took. Creature or not, he didn’t fit. Gerard groaned into his bed sheets, self-loathing radiating from him. 

When did Mikey even find the time to plan a hang out with Ray? Last time, he talked to Gerard about it first. Was he really acting so stubborn that Mikey didn’t even want to bring it up to him anymore? Maybe he had given up on him and Gerard couldn’t blame him for that.

Suddenly, his teeth began to ache and his mouth quickly filled with saliva.

Gerard sat up quickly, alarmed and tried to get his brain up to speed with his body. Then a soft beat entered his ears, just barely audible. The sound instantly made Gerard feel warm and fuzzy all over; he recognized the quick patter as it got louder. Frank was finally back. He was back, but Gerard couldn’t understand why his body had reacted so strongly. Sure, there was some struggle with trying to keep himself under control while standing next to him earlier, but this reaction was something entirely different.

 Just as the doorknob to the front door was swinging open, Gerard quickly shot up to shut his door completely. He rested his head against the wood, inhaling harder than necessary through his nose. There was something wrong, he could feel it and smell it. Frank’s scent was stronger, more demanding. Gerard squeezed his eyes shut. With a hand still on the doorknob, he gripped at the metal, his other hand scratching at the wood, nails peeling the white paint—anything to ground himself.

What the fuck had Frank done while he was out? Did he somehow find a way to amplify his smell? Or was it that in the hours he was gone, Gerard’s hunger had amplified? He knew that the guy from last night hadn’t been enough, so he was still fairly hungry, but this was a bit much. Even he knew that.

Gerard’s fangs dug into his lips, a sharp, quick pain flooded through his body. He leaned back, pointing his nose to the ceiling, and breathed in and out. He realized his grip on the doorknob was starting to dent the metal, so he forced himself to back up from the door. He was going to be fine, he just needed to breathe for a second and have a cup of coffee—neither he actually needed , but it was nice to take into his body. He would be fine. Tomorrow night, he’ll ask Mikey to go out with him again, and he’ll find someone better to satisfy his hunger. He’d forget about Frank’s annoying scent. He would be fine. 

But he wondered if stepping a foot outside of his room would be a good idea right about now. Gerard licked over his teeth, swallowing all of the saliva in his mouth, and raked a hand through his hair. He was good—the initial smell of Frank had even subsided, he was good. He was just going to get some coffee, nothing else.

Gerard opened his door, the sound of the bathroom sink running filled his ears. He cautiously looked over the living room—as if he wasn’t the dangerous one here—the black out curtains were closed, only a small slither of sunlight slipping from between them. The light was slowly fading as the sun started to go back down into the ground, soon the moon would be taking its place. As quietly as possible, he scurried across the living room floor to the kitchen, quickly rooting the cabinet for a coffee filter. He was stepping over to the machine when the loose pocket of his old, Batman printed pajama pants caught onto a drawer, causing it to open and snap shut again. He was never good at being stealthy. “Gerard?” Frank’s voice called from the bathroom just around the corner, then his footsteps followed. 

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you were awake or not. It was dead silent when I came in here, it almost scared me for a moment. Is Mikey here? He would even be in the living room or something .” He spoke pretty fast for some reason, his thoughts seemed to be entering his head every few seconds just before they left again to make some space for new ones. “Oh, you’re making coffee? Save me some would you?” He bounced on his heels in a way that Gerard had already grown used to. He smelled like sweat and beer, but under all of that musk, he smelled sweet. “Y-Yeah, sure.” Gerard sat the coffee jar onto the counter, ripping his attention away from Frank and back to the machine.

“Hey, you wanna see something sick?” Frank grinned beside him, eyes wide and full of an untamed energy. Gerard felt as though he should say no, but it wasn’t like he had an exact reason not to. He also had a feeling that Frank would probably show him anyways, even if he did say no. Gerard tried to keep his focus on the machine as he scooped out the coffee grounds and put them into the filter. “Here, Gee. Look at this cool shit!” He laughed, nudging Gerard’s shoulder. Gerard breathed in once more—he was fine—before he turned his head to face Frank.

His hair was horribly tousled and he no longer wore his hoodie, instead a white t-shirt with a few stains on the front, sweat soaked through the shirt around his armpits and his neck. “Not at me , look at my hand .” He held his hand up a little higher.

Frank’s fingers were practically streaked in blood and were shaking, if not from the pain then from his own excitement. Gerard’s eyes widened as his eyes raked over the red, most of it was already dried up, but some was still slowly sliding down Frank’s fingers and over his wide palm. He placed the coffee jar onto the counter—maybe a little too roughly—and gripped at the surface, his jaw had clenched so hard, he almost feared his teeth were going to shatter. And maybe that would be for the best.

“We were practicing in my friend’s basement after I had met with those people for the game, right,” He practically flailed his hand in front of him. “And, dude, we were just so into it. It was so much fun. But, like, three hours of practicing ended up turning into, like, six? Or was it seven? ‘Cuz then after that, we started playing covers of songs we really like and we lost track of time. Neil even ordered pizza– That’s besides the point. But I guess we ended up playing for too long and too hard and I got this cool ass trophy.” His other hand held some tissue under his hand, catching and soaking up the blood that was trying to get away. “And, y’know, this has happened to me before when I first started playing, but it was just never this much, y’know?” When he was excited, he seemed to repeat his words a lot.

It felt as if the universe was speaking to Gerard, simply whispering, ‘ Fuck you. ’

Gerard sighed, trying to regain control of his body. He felt like he was aching all over or was being set on fire, preferably both. He felt something wet drip onto his fingers that were still holding onto the counter, the same ones that were just on the verge of putting a giant crack into the hard surface. He was salivating all over himself, he then slapped his hands over his mouth in a way he hoped was discreet. He tried to keep his head down and his eyes away from the dark, vibrant red cocktail beside him.

“It’s been kinda bleeding for a bit, that can’t be good, right? I never thought I could slice my fingers up like this though, isn’t it cool?” Gerard could barely hear what he was saying. He knew he should just make a run for his room, but at the same time, his feet weren’t moving like he had wanted them to—they weren’t fucking moving at all. Without his hands on the counter, he felt as though he might just topple over, but then he couldn’t just let his mouth flood the place. 

“Hey, Gee– Shit, are you good?” Frank gently placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice instantly filling with worry. “I-Is it the blood or something? Fuck, I should’ve told you before actually showing you,” 

Yeah, ya think? Gerard thought, struggling to get his tongue in order. It was just a bit of blood, he could handle it. Then again, it was his blood, a voice in his head made itself known.

“What can I get you? Is there something wrong with your mouth?” Frank looked like he was panicking a bit, not sure of what to do when someone was having a panic attack, or whatever he thought Gerard was having. 

The smell of his blood under his skin was already something hard to deal with, but having to see it right in front of him was a whole different story. “I’m gonna go get you a rag to hold up to your mouth, okay?” Frank sat the bloody tissue on the counter in front of him. Oh, for fuck’s sake , Gerard thought. Yeah, maybe Frank didn’t know about the whole monster thing, but God , could he be stupid sometimes.

The sweet, yet citric smell curled around his fingers and found its way into Gerard’s nostrils. The blood no longer had the skin to protect it, the smell stronger and so, so much more intense.

Gerard could feel as his eyes began to glaze over and lose focus, his brain going numb and his fingers buzzing with an instinct that told him nothing, but to take what he could get. To take and take, until there was nothing left.

Before Frank could take another step towards the bathroom, Gerard moved with one large, quick step, firmly taking Frank’s wrist into his hand. With not another thought and a quick movement, Gerard shoved both his ring and middle finger into his mouth. A low disgusting, throaty moan left his mouth once his tongue made contact with the open wounds on the tips of Frank’s fingers. Gerard brought up his other hand to grip Frank’s shoulder, pulling him closer, he practically clawed at his skin through his shirt. He dragged his tongue along the underside of his fingers, all the way from the base, back up to his finger nails—Frank’s calluses ran roughly against his tongue in such a way that drew out a few more moans from him. He licked over the pads of his fingers, the sliced skin feeling disgusting and so wrong, but so, so good. Gerard pressed his tongue into the cuts with a light pressure, drawing more blood. His lashes fluttered as he got what he wanted, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head at the sweet taste of his blood and the salty taste of his skin underneath. But no, this was wrong.

Suddenly, all rationality came flooding back to him just as fast as it had left, knocking him upside his head. Gerard’s eyes snapped open. His gaze slowly traveled from where his lips connected with Frank’s skin, up his arm, passed his own hand twisted in Frank’s shirt, and finally rested upon Frank’s terrified face.

Shit . Gerard snatched his mouth and hands away—suddenly, he was burning. He felt as if he deserved to burn. He’d fucked up, he’d let Mikey down—he did not have himself under control. He had only sucked on his fingers, he didn’t see his fangs. But that was no excuse. Frank would hate him, he’d tell Mikey what a weirdo his brother was and then he’d move out. He didn’t want Mikey to be disappointed in him, he didn’t want Frank to hate him, and…he found himself not wanting Frank to move out either. His eyes were starting to sting at the corners, he wanted and needed to hide.

Finally , his legs and feet decided that they wanted to move and he bolted to his room just before whispering a quick, “Sorry,” to a statue that had the likeliness of Frank. 

Too bad it wasn’t just a statue, as much as Gerard had wished it was.

Notes:

So, tell me what ya think! :) Too much blood, or not enough? Probably not enough.
I also wanna ask how is this tour treating you all?? One of the reasons it took me so long to finish this is BCUZ of the tour. I'm currently trying to learn their made-up language, Keposhka. I hope you're having a good day/night, see ya!! :)

Chapter 8: Closed Mouths Don't Get Fed

Notes:

Hii, I'm back!! I don't know how many times I can apologize for taking so long... But please bear with me. Classes have started back up for me and I'm going to have less time to write, so updates may take a bit longer, But that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon this fic!! Please have faith in me!! :) Anyways, enjoy!

“Hah! Cough up the soda, asshole. I won again!”

“Fuck you. You got to play the game way longer than I did. Therefore, you’re more used to it than I am.”

“Excuses, excuses. Besides, I literally didn’t touch the shit until you got here. Just admit it. You. Suck.”

Ray sat up from the sagging couch, reaching for the last Dr Pepper that stood on the glass coffee table. Condensation slid down the sides of the can in a way that felt taunting to Mikey.

“Hey!” He sat up as well, moving quickly to swat Ray’s hand away from the can. “Just one more match, alright?” Ray lifted an eyebrow, his eyes switching between the shiny, red can of soda and Mikey’s face like he was contemplating something.

“C’mon, man. Don’t make me do this.” Mikey dramatically flung his hands up into the air, letting them fall back down to his sides. Ray’s eyebrow didn’t move an inch, but his hand seemed to be moving several towards the can. “Okay, fine! I’ll throw in my untouched bag of chips.”

“Yes,” He said under his breath, giving a small fist pump up in the air. “For the last can and your bag of chips? Oh, yeah, I’m kicking your ass. I’ll probably throw in a special move, too, just because.” He didn’t sink back into the couch, instead he remained sitting up with his elbows digging into his thighs as he leaned in closer to the TV. That probably meant that he was serious , Mikey laughed at the idea.

“Sure, dude. You and your ‘ now-I-mean-serious-business ’ look is so intimidating.” He rolled his eyes, leaning further back into the couch once he realized his soda was no longer in the sights of impending doom—for now.

He’d lost count of how many rounds they had already played on Mortal Kombat before they switched over to Soulcalibur , all to play another set of endless rounds (Mikey losing a bit more than half of them all).

“Why do you keep choosing Lizardman?” Ray looked back at him, his curly hair bouncing at the slight turn of his head. “He fucking sucks ass. No wonder you keep losing, now that I think about it.”

“What.” He sat up quickly, his glasses sliding down his nose at the sudden movement. “Lizardman is cool.” Mikey really hadn’t played the character for too long to understand all of his abilities, but his point still stood. In all honesty, Lizardman kind of reminded him of all the weird reptiles Gerard drew for him from time to time. Maybe that’s why he found himself liking the character so much.

“Yeah, maybe. But like, his moves are really predictable. And kinda slow.”

“Oh my god– Well, why do you keep choosing that Voldo dude then?”

“‘Cuz he’s cool , plus, his attacks are unpredictable. You can’t tell me they aren’t.” Ray throws him a shit-eating grin as he starts the next round up.

“They aren’t .” Mikey furrows his eyebrows, trying to focus on the TV screen. If his glasses would stop sliding down his face, then maybe he would’ve been winning a whole lot more by now—which is what he would like to tell himself.

“Oh, they aren’t? Then why can’t you block them, or y’know…just win for once.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was an incredibly helpful suggestion.

“Just start the round.” Mikey laughed, giving a lighthearted shove to Ray’s shoulder. Once their characters appeared on the screen, the two began hitting buttons on their controllers—Ray having some sort of strategy, while Mikey button mashed, doing… something with the large A button and smaller B button—silence falling over them.

By some miracle, Mikey was finally starting to get the upper hand, a smile beginning to form on his face. “Looks like I might have this one, Ray.” He rushed out, trying to keep his focus. “Fuck you and Voldo.” 

“Shut up. The round’s far from over.” His response just as rushed as Mikey’s was.

Just as victory was almost over the horizon for a desperate Mikey, he felt a buzz in his back pocket.

Mikey rarely gets calls from anyone these days. Maybe one or two from some person he met at a club or bar, but even those were rare, as most of them were just one-night stands and led to nothing but a few quick texts at most—rarely ever an actual call. Which is why Mikey feels a small shiver go up his spine, causing a falter is his very, extremely calculated strategy in attempting to take down Ray once and for all.

“Do you need to take that?” Ray said, his eyes glued to the screen like a mad man—Mikey replicating the look subconsciously. “I could pause it…or I could just kick your ass real quick, then this can be over.” Mikey could almost hear the tip of Ray’s tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, his concentration set in stone, much like he used to do when they were in high school. Nothing had changed with him.

“No, no. Just…one moment.” He mumbled. Underneath him, his fingers felt like they were getting tangled into some impossible manner. Then his phone stopped ringing. He wished he could say that he was relieved, because maybe now he could focus a bit more on the game, but that was far from the truth.

No one ever called him. No one has ever needed to call him. Ray didn’t even call sometimes, but Mikey felt like that was mostly because he didn’t want to. Because Ray was a sweet guy and he could always tell when someone needed space. Ray knew how Mikey and Gerard could be sometimes. He just wanted to give them space. Instead, Ray would let the brothers reach out to him—which wasn’t a lot, but Mikey would like to at least try to hang out with him a lot more, or whenever they both had the time. Ray wasn’t someone he wanted to completely get rid of, no matter how hard he tried to let go, he was a good friend. He’d just have to break Gerard out of his little shell that he seemed to hold himself in, maybe then he wouldn’t feel like he had to choose between his own brother and his social life. But Gerard was just scared, Mikey could bring himself to understand that. Anyone would be scared if they had gone through what he did.

 Mikey had to force himself to concentrate on what was going on in front of him—to pull his head out of his ass, but it was already too late.

“Shit,” Mikey’s button mashing couldn’t carry him over the finish line and he’d lost, once again. Not only that, but he also lost his cold soda and his bag of chips. The last bag, to make matters worse.

“You had me for a bit, but then you lost me.” Ray cheesed, leaning forward for the soda and the bag of chips placed at the edge of the coffee table, then he sunk back into the couch. Mikey threw the blue controller into his lap—maybe a bit too hard, because Ray started to choke on the big gulps of soda he was swallowing. Serves him right, though.

“You only won because my phone went off and it distracted me.” He flipped him off and then reached behind him to grab his phone from out of his back pocket. Once his eyes rested on the small, square screen, they widened.

It was a missed call from Gerard.

He looked at the small numbers in the corner of the screen. ‘ 9:47 ’, it read. He hadn’t been out for too long, three– four hours, maybe? In between that time, Mikey’s hangover had subsided for the most part. But being hit by this , had it flooding back to him in thick, unforgivable waves. Surely, Gerard was fine. Nothing bad had happened to him—or anyone else for that matter.

Then it was like a brick slid into place, completing his unfinished brick wall of consciousness. Frank was there, he wasn’t when Mikey had left, but maybe he was home now. Could something have happened? Why else would he be calling? How could he have forgotten about Frank? Maybe he shouldn’t have left him with Gerard.

No, what was he thinking? Gerard wouldn’t hurt him, he was responsible—to some extent…he hoped. Even if he talked a bit weirdly about Frank’s blood sometimes, it was something he could handle, he’d never act on any of his weird, vampiric impulses. Mikey could trust Gerard, but he should probably get home soon. Just in case.

“Hey, who was it?” Ray nudged his knee with his own. “You look as pale as a ghost. This soda mean that much to you?” He continued to sip on the soda, much louder than necessary.

“Screw the damn soda, I can just go buy my own–”

“But why would you wanna do that when you could’ve just had this soda.” He held up the can like he’s making some kind of toast.

“Shut up.” Mikey rolled his eyes, so hard that he probably could correct his eyesight if he did it once more. “It was just…Gee, he called.” A faint sickness washed over his body as he simply said it aloud.

“Oh, Gee, How is he doing? When I last saw him over at your place, he seemed so on edge and before you came over, you said he couldn’t make it because he was sick, right?” Ray sat up from the couch, placing the soda back onto the coffee table. He turned to face Mikey, all of his attention directed on him. Ray was the kind of person who made sure to listen to everything someone else said to him—rather they were friends or not. Why did he have to be such a damn good listener?

“Yeah, the cold is kinda severe, y’know. He was probably calling to ask when I’d be back to help him make some soup or something. I should probably get going, I don’t want to leave him alone for too long.” Most of it had been a lie, but at least the last part hadn’t been. “How about you?” Ray said as Mikey stood up, stretching his bony arms over his head, the few hours of competitive gaming left him feeling stiff.

“Huh,” He responded so intelligently. “What do you mean?”

“How are you doing?” Ray repeated, seeming as serious as ever.

All throughout high school, Ray was always a fairly serious and technical person. He had his moments where he could act stupid and goofy, but other times, he was a hard-working, serious person. He was like that all throughout high school, and from the little bits and pieces Mikey was able to put together in the times that they did talk to each other, Ray was much like that in adulthood too. As he had thought before, nothing had changed with Ray. They were the only ones that did.

Caught off guard by the question for a moment, he shifted awkwardly next to the leather couch. Mikey wasn’t entirely sure how he should answer, He felt…fine. There was nothing wrong with him at the moment. Sure, he had a few things going on, but they weren’t things that he could just tell Ray. At least not unless he and Gerard collectively agreed on it, and Gerard just wasn’t ready to cross that bridge yet. From what he told Mikey, a few months after he had turned, he was scared of how Ray would perceive him if he knew. He didn’t care about faceless strangers, but he did care about Ray and Mikey, as they were the only ones he could bring himself to actually care about.

Mikey could remember when they both sat on the cluttered basement floor of their old home, his older brother curled up in a little ball as he sat by his side, trying to comfort him.

He could remember how Gerard had cried and told him that he didn’t even want him to know. How he had sworn up and down that his little brother couldn’t know what he had become—what he had been turned into.

Even after he had practically drowned in his own blood, Mikey couldn’t know.

He always found himself wondering, if he hadn’t come home that night—if he hadn’t been there to help pick up the broken pieces—would he have even known? Could Gerard have just ran off, all to avoid how he’d be perceived by someone he held close? Mikey couldn’t bear those thoughts sometimes.

He gently shook his head to rid his mind of all those thoughts, slightly jostling his glasses down the bridge of his nose, then he focused his attention back to the present—where he should be. Ray didn’t look annoyed, rather patience and kindness ran through his features as he waited for his friend to respond.

“I’m fine– maybe a bit tired, but other than that, I’m good.” He smiled. And he was fine, there was no reason for Ray to worry about Gerard and him. They were just floating above the water financially, and Frank was good company—even if he did remind him a lot of Ray and not because he just so happened to play guitar as well. Frank brought a new, fresh light into their apartment. He loved his brother and enjoyed his company—there was no doubt about that—but Frank of course brought a different kind of presence. He was a change that not only needed to happen, but was also refreshing in an environment that was starting to grow dull.

Now that it was at the front of his mind, he wondered if Gerard had felt the same way. He’d be sure to ask him later.

“Okay, I’m just checking in. I gotta make sure I look out for the little guys.” Ray giggled as he stood up from the couch. He reached his hands to Mikey’s hair, then began to ruffle and squash the brown strands. “When are you gonna stop spiking your hair up like this? You look like you’re trying to contact an alien mothership.” His hands made Mikey’s head rock from side to side as he moved them through his hair. “Get away,” Mikey laughed, swatting away Ray’s calloused hands. “But seriously, I gotta go.” He made his way across the cozy and spacious living room.

When Mikey saw the place for the first time, Ray was more than glad to show him around each room in his comfortable one-story home. In his opinion, the coolest room was Ray’s little office that sat at the back of the house. The room held all of his equipment for his film studies and two rather beat up guitars, but nevertheless, Mikey found the foreign software and old instruments to be pretty cool. Ray's guitars reminded him of his old bass that he had to give up and sell off a while ago. He didn’t get the chance to have the thing for so long and wasn’t too good at it—yet. If he had had it for a bit longer, he was sure that he could’ve gotten the hang of its thick strings and smooth out that annoying, dull buzzing sound he made every time he tried to play a note on a fret.

“Talk to you later, yeah?” Ray said as they both walked to the front of the house, the small square window in the door presented the dark night that awaited Mikey as he slipped on his coat. It wasn’t extremely cold outside just yet, but he wasn’t taking any chances as he couldn’t afford to get sick.

“Yeah, I’ll call or text when I get a chance,” Mikey smiled as he stepped out into the night. He wasn’t sure when that ‘ chance ’ would be, but he would sure as hell try. “See ya, man. I hope you enjoy my chips and soda.” 

“I surely will. Get back safe and tell Gee I said hi and to get better soon.” Ray gave him a small wave paired with a smile as Mikey walked down the short, battered pavement towards his equally battered car.

The door snapped shut and as soon as the sound reached Mikey’s ears, he reached into his back pocket for his phone, letting his worry melt over his face now that no one was in front of him to witness it.

He would make sure that Gerard was okay and he would let his brother know that he was on his way home.

***

Gerard wasn’t spiraling and he certainly wasn’t curled up in a little ball underneath his pile of blankets. Gerard was doing anything but that.

Except he was, though.

After he had fled from the shameful, disgusting crime scene, he locked himself inside his room. The sheets and many blankets that laid spread out on his mattress offered him a great source of shelter, all from a monster that was never going to come. A monster that was somehow bigger and scarier than he was.

After a small argument with himself and himself only, Gerard had decided to call his brother, his ice cold hands shaking as he pressed away at the small buttons, the same ones that he wasn’t used to pressing as he tended to leave his phone on his cluttered desk to collect dust weeks at a time. He watched with stinging eyes, and listened with ringing ears as the call went to voicemail.

Maybe he was being dramatic. What he had done wasn’t that bad—maybe Frank had guys suck on his blood sprinkled fingers from time to time, no biggie.

Except it was a really big fucking ‘ biggie ’, and there definitely wasn’t any fucking way to make it sound any better.

Gerard hugged his knees to his chest, tightly squeezing his eyes shut, so tight that he could see little white sparks painting themselves against the darkness of his eyelids. Maybe if he tried hard enough—someway, somehow—he could make himself disappear. Like some fairy that could disappear with the wave of her wand and a few flashes, a cloud of glitter being her only trace of life and existence.

But Gerard wasn’t some cute, lovely fairy. He was a bloodsucking, uncontrollable weirdo—one that had to face reality. One that couldn’t disappear into a fantasy world, never to be seen again. He should’ve tried harder at the bar last night. He should’ve forced that guy’s wretched blood down his itchy throat; or better yet, he should’ve just gone after someone else. Literally anything that could’ve prevented this from happening.

In the first few months of Gerard’s brand new diet , Mikey had found a way to sneak blood bags out from a blood bank that wasn’t too far from where they used to live. Gerard never knew how he managed to get his lanky hands on them. Mikey would never tell him, he’d only say that he ‘ knew people. ’ Which was one of the reasons why he stopped accepting the blood—the last thing he wanted to be was the reason his younger brother got into trouble of some sorts.

That and because the blood tasted like shit. If Gerard thought that one guy’s blood from the alleyway tasted shitty, then the bags were on a whole new level of shitty. They tasted like thin, cold garbage, and were devoid of all the things that actually made human blood, human blood . The shit that was mixed in with it to keep the blood from clotting, made it thin and caused it to have this pasty consistency that made Gerard want to gag—and the worse part of it all, it never made him feel warm . 

Blood is a life force and Gerard could always feel that force as it entered his body, he could feel all the warmth and energy that it had to offer. But within those bags, he didn’t get that same feeling. Instead, it’s cold and dead; fake. But now that he thought about it, it was pretty fitting considering what he was.

He felt a little buzz underneath his head through his pillow—where he had tucked his phone away earlier—then reached a shaky hand to the device, flipping it open. “Hello?” His voice sounded much weaker to his own ears than he had meant for it to sound.

“ Hey– Gee? ” Mikey’s voice came through, his words had their signature dullness to them, but worry seemed to be burning and chipping away at the edges. “ Are you okay? All good? Sorry, I didn’t pick up right away, I was a bit distracted. ” Gerard hears something that sounds like a car horn and the faint sounds of tires dragging along gravel. “ You ‘kay? ” Mikey asks again, and Gerard remembers that he’s actually supposed to say something.

“Yeah– no, I’m okay.” He worked towards a more sturdy base in his voice to hold up his weak sounding vowels, not only to convince his brother, but also himself. “I was just wondering when you were coming back,” Gerard was still debating with himself on if he wanted to tell Mikey about what had happened, or if he just wanted to wait for Frank to do it whilst he was packing up his stuff to get the fuck out of here—maybe that would save him some embarrassment. “I also just wanted to check on you, y’know?”

“ I’m on my way right now, don’t worry about me, I'm fine. Are you sure you’re okay? ” Gerard tightened the heavy blanket that was wrapped over his head and the rest of his body, allowing the fabric to stick to him like a second skin, shielding him from all of the eyes that seemed to grow from his room's walls.

“I’m fine, I just–” Gerard didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to tell Mikey what had happened. Frank would probably tell him soon. He was probably in his room packing his bags, planning to call Mikey as soon as he was done. “I don’t know.” He settled on, sighing at his very mature answer. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t ruin your hang out with Ray.”

“ No, it’s okay. I was just about to leave anyways, ” A faint sigh carried through the phone and just barely reached Gerard’s ears—then a car horn sounded, much louder. “ Shit. I’ll be there soon, Gee. Fucking dumbasses out here act like they can’t fucking drive for the sake of their grandmother or some shit. ” Gerard could almost hear the way Mikey’s eyebrows furrowed at that, but his voice flat, then the call cut.

Gerard stuck a hand out of his blanket cocoon, and tossed his phone to the foot of his bed—or at least tried to, because of course it bounces way further than intended and flings itself over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

He groans, running his hands over his chubby face, letting the pads of his fingers pull at his eyelids. He wished he could gouge his eyes out, but the pain would come and go, and the clean up process wasn’t pretty. He tried before, and learned that it was really fucking weird to feel his eyes slowly regenerate. But that was just another reminder that he wasn’t the same as before. Before, he couldn’t fucking tear his own eyes out and grow them back in the next twenty minutes.

Gerard sat up in his bed, his pants legs were starting to bunch up at his knees and his blanket fell from his head, pooling around his hips as he sat criss-crossed. Closing his eyes, he listened.

He listened for the sound of a suitcase zipper sliding back, for the sound of drawers sliding open, and for the sound of angry muttering. 

But none of those sounds ever reached his ears, instead it was silent—the only noise being a somewhat steady heart beat, and obviously it wasn’t Gerard’s.

Frank was still here. He wasn’t packing up and running for the hills. Yet , Gerard corrected himself. Frank was probably waiting for Mikey to come back. Maybe he wanted Mikey to be present as he gathered his things, ranting and raving about how his brother had assaulted him.

Then the sound of the shower starting flooded his ears. Water pattering against the cheap, fiberglass bathtub floor.

Okay, maybe he wanted to be clean before he left, and for when he told Gerard and Mikey off.

Gerard thought back to what happened in the kitchen, to the taste of Frank’s blood that still mingled on his tongue and to the look of shock on his face that accompanied the wonderful flavor. He felt guilty…but at the same time, he wanted more. He almost wished that he had the chance to sink his teeth into the small, yet long slits at the tips of Frank’s fingers, further ripping the skin to draw more blood.

His stomach turned and twisted at the idea. He wanted that. But he wouldn’t. He could control himself, and he’d never hurt Frank. Mentally , yeah, maybe Gerard did some damage there with what had happened in the kitchen. But he would never hurt Frank physically .

Then, something deep in his gut made its voice known and called him a liar.

Gerard reached his hands to his greasy strands of hair and lightly tugged, closing his eyes and allowing himself to feel the faint pain—the pain that was barely there and basically allowed him to feel nothing. If he were to blow his brains against the ceiling, that pain would have only lasted for but so long, too.

Gerard closed his eyes, laying his head back down on the mattress. He listened as the shower ran, the sound almost sensitive against his eardrums. He couldn’t hear much other than that; water running and some other sounds, like shuffles against a wet floor. Then something else that kind of sounded like a broken sob, or a whimper, but it was hard to tell. Of course, Gerard’s hearing was abnormal and was above the average human being’s—but he wasn’t fucking Batman, all with his advanced technology and specialized sensors that gave him his cool Bat Ears.

Could his hearing be above Batman’s? Now that was something he’d have to look into later, how could Batman hear so well anyway? Certainly, the ears on his cowl weren’t just for show—

The shower shuts off, pulling Gerard back to the present and away from his thoughts that began to drift away from what really mattered (but he was definitely going to store that in his brain to delve on later).

He pulled his blankets back over his head, like they could hide him from the world and from Frank’s disgust. He wondered if Frank would ever approach his room, demanding answers to what the hell had just happened.

Sleeping wasn’t something that Gerard needed to do. But when he felt like time was dragging on for a bit too long, or he wanted to just be unconscious—especially since he couldn’t get drunk—he decided that napping was a good pass time. The darkness of his eyelids looked the same as the darkness under his blankets, but he still forced himself to close his eyes.

He listened as muffled feet moved along the apartment floor, the sound coming from Frank’s side of the place. His steps weren’t rushed, and they didn’t sound angry—not like he was storming through his room, packing as fast as he could.

But then he heard the sound of the front door unlocking, a familiar heartbeat following right after it. Mikey was back. Sooner than Gerard thought.

Gerard sat up in his bed once again, readying to greet his brother. Relief washed over him, but with that relief came another wave of anxiousness, this time it crashed into him much harder than the last. His footsteps grew louder as he drew closer, his shadow appeared under the door, and then a soft knock came. “Gee?” His little brother spoke just as soft as his knock had been.

“Come in,” He dragged a heavy hand through his hair, further messing it up. As soon as Mikey cracked the door, and stuck his face into the room, Gerard felt safe again. This was something that he knew— someone . Someone that he could put the word ‘ normal ’ too and knew what to expect. He never had the thought that Mikey would just up and leave, even if Gerard had changed. In the end Mikey never left him, he would always come back. “Hey, Mikes. You’re back.” Gerard smiled, the words felt soothing as they leaped off of his tongue.

“Of course, did you expect me to leave forever?” Mikey joked, pushing his way through the door and deeper into the room, ignoring the clothes and art supplies that littered the floor below him. He shut the door behind himself and made his way to the bed, sinking into Gerard’s mattress a few spaces beside him. “What’d you call for earlier? You sounded pretty freaked, are you sure you’re okay?” Mikey looked at him through the frames of his glasses, his eyebrows knitted in such a way that made something shift in Gerard’s heart.

Mikey was always worrying about him. All they really had was each other, so he didn’t have anyone else to worry about, right? Sometimes it made Gerard feel useless. Shouldn’t it have been him left to worry about Mikey, his younger brother? Not the other way around. He couldn’t be human, let alone be a good older brother.

Gerard couldn’t tell Mikey about what had happened—maybe it was childish of him, but he couldn’t. Mikey was the most important thing to him, and if he let him down or just gave him another thing to worry about and Mikey ended up leaving him, who else would he have? What other normalcy would he have?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gerard sighed. He didn’t really feel fine, but that was also another feeling that became all too familiar. “Would you stay with me for a bit?” The question felt foolish—not only because it sounded childish, but also because that was all that Mikey did, and Gerard couldn’t thank him enough for it.

“Of course, Gee.” He toed off his shoes and pulled his legs up onto the bed, making himself comfortable as he folded his long legs under him. It was late at this point, but Gerard couldn’t tell the exact time, neither did he want to though. “What do you wanna do?” Mikey leaned his head back against the wall beside Gerard’s bed, his coat now laid messily on the floor, fitting right in with the rest of the things that laid along with it.

“Wanna help me write a short comic?”

***

Frank laid in his bed, staring up at his fingers. Little beige band-aids wrapped over the tips of his fingers, just above the letters that were inked into his skin. The sun shined through his window, almost reaching his face. He’d have to get up soon and start the day.

Except he didn’t have an exact plan set in stone for today. He’d usually just let the day work itself out—he never needed a plan .

So why was it now that he felt so lost and confused?

He felt like the train that constantly ran around in circles inside of his head finally ran out of coal to burn, and stopped, trying to figure out where to get its next source of fuel from. Frank never thought that could happen—to him of all people. He always had something inside of him to burn—some sort of thought that kept him running. But now only one thought ran through his mind.

Gerard.

Last night—after the weird fucker had licked up the bit of blood that was dripping from the pads of his fingers—Gerard had fled from him, slamming his bedroom door shut just as fast as he had ripped it open.

Frank could remember the way his slimy tongue had slipped between his fingers. For some reason, his teeth were a bit sharp and nicked one of his sides, but Frank couldn’t tell if Gerard had bit him or if his mind was playing tricks on him. He could remember the sound he let out as Frank froze, and the way his eyes fluttered closed—like he was relieved, or pleased at the metallic taste. Frank could remember it all. His lips just barely had the chance to swallow the letters that sat permanently at the base of his fingers before Gerard had pulled away, terror suddenly etched all over his face, the look even more permanent once his eyes met Frank’s. He could remember it all—no matter whatever kind of excitement-high he was running on. He could remember the way Gerard had clung onto his shoulder, his sharp nails practically digging into his skin—not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely enough to cause a few red, raised lines that Frank found out he liked to stare at in the bathroom mirror.

Frank remembered how he stood there in the kitchen for a minute, stunned. He didn’t know what to do, or to say. What was he supposed to do, or say? Last night, all he did was stand there cradling his hand, feeling the slide between his fingers that were no longer wet with blood, but rather an odd saliva. He stood there with his heart racing, words no longer leaving his mouth, for he had nothing left to say. For once in his life, he had nothing to say. For once, he felt like he was forced to sit and think about things, and what he was going to do next.

He remembered standing in the rather small kitchen as the world finally stood still around him. He remembered standing there, his face and ears burning. He remembered the feeling of his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He remembers letting his feet carry him into the bathroom, turning on the shower to cool off and to rub one out—and definitely not to the image of Gerard that he seemed to remember all so well.

He remembered it all too well—so well that he was starting to get hard again.

Frank sighed, glancing at the tent that was constructing itself underneath his dog-bone printed blanket. He needed to play a few cords on his guitar. He needed to do something to get his mind off of things—but at the same time, he didn’t want to. He didn’t exactly want to move on from what had happened, pretending it never occurred. He wanted answers to his questions.

Why did Gerard do that last night? Frank hadn’t thought to ask himself that, not until this morning as he laid in bed. He always found himself asking the wrong questions, or doing the wrong things. He wasn’t surprised that this time wasn’t any different.

He sat up, stumbling out of bed and letting his blanket fall to the floor, his legs getting tangled up in it once again—he had a new thought to feed his one direction train.

Before, Frank had all sorts of questions that he didn’t want airborne. All about why the brothers would go out so late into the night, every other night or so. About where they went, or why the hell were they seemingly talking about Frank like that one night? About blood, and if Gerard could control himself or not ? What the fuck was all of that about? Those were things Frank had questions about, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved many answers—because if it didn’t exactly harm him, or affect him in any way, what right did he have to know? They were weird, and that was something he could bring himself to understand. Everyone was a little weird.

But this was definitely one question he deserved an answer too. They were his fucking fingers, and—although he wasn’t complaining much—he wanted to fucking know why Gerard had thought it would’ve been an amazing idea to shove them into his hot, slick mouth. The thoughts and not-so-distant memories working him up again.

Frank sucked his lip ring between his teeth. Maybe he should deal with a few things before he left the privacy of his room, he figured.

After a few extra—embarrassingly short—minutes in his room, he finally left in search of the hermit he happened to live with. He didn’t think it’d be too hard, as Gerard never seemed to leave the house and had only two places to really hunker down in—his room and the living room. Frank never saw him in Mikey’s room, which made sense. But then again, Frank could never be too sure. Maybe those two weirdos switched rooms every night just for the hell of it.

Once in the living room, he was met with an eerie silence. The TV wasn’t running, no music was sounding off of Gerard’s walls and underneath his door, and for fuck’s sake—not even the coffee machine was running, it’s broken spluttering vacant to Frank’s ears.

He stepped into the kitchen beside him, peering at the neon green, digital clock that flashed at the top of the stove. It was a little after twelve. At this time, Frank would’ve expected Mikey to be up. Sitting on the couch, swallowing down coffee like it was water while watching some crime documentary, like an old lady.

Frank stuffed a hand under his shirt to scratch at his stomach—not because he had an itch, but to give it something to do—and used his other to get the coffee machine going. He mentally noted that the coffee jar was almost empty.

The noises of the machine filled the silence, bringing some comfort to Frank’s mind. But the sounds seemed to trigger someone else, as a yawning Mikey emerged from his room, his glasses hanging lopsided on his face.

“Mornin’,” Frank said, finding it a bit hard not to laugh at Mikey’s hair and how it paired with his glasses to make him look all the more stupid.

Mikey huffed, making his way through the living room and into the kitchen and right to the cabinets. He pulled out a mug and began to dump sugar into it, along with a bit of creamer from the fridge. Clearly, he only came out here for coffee. He looked dead, so he needed it, Frank figured and shrugged to himself. He never took either one of the brothers' attitudes to heart.

“That’s a lot of fucking sugar.” Frank voiced, he knew that Mikey probably didn’t feel like talking—it was written all over his face—but that wouldn’t stop him from talking, and he didn’t mind if Mikey responded or not. Which he didn’t. Instead, Mikey gave another huff, and took the coffee pot, pouring the dark goodness into his cup of pure sugar. Frank watched in silence as Mikey dragged his feet over into the living room, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and switching the TV on as he sank down into the couch. The noise further brought Frank some comfort, but still, something felt off. Gerard never really came out of his room until super late in the day, but this time felt different—Frank was more worried about his missing presence. He was always locked in his room, and today would be no different. Frank knew that.

And so, he would just have to wait until Gerard decided to emerge from his cave. Until then, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay on the couch and watch TV with Mikey for a little while.

About two hours had passed, and Frank was starting to feel his patience wane. The monotone voice that spoke from the TV—describing a gruesome crime scene in which some woman killed her boyfriend out of jealousy—wasn’t helping his jittering nerves either.

Mikey had been very quiet the whole time—which didn’t bother Frank so much, as he learned that he could be like that most of the time—eyes glued to the screen and his coffee long gone.

Frank was starting to grow bored of sitting on the couch. No one was keeping him there, but it was where he wanted to be. Where he needed to be. He had to wait for Gerard to come out; he had to speak to him—to ask him his questions. Frank would even appreciate just a small glimpse of his older roommate, he just wanted to see if he was okay. He seemed so scared last night. He probably thought that Frank hated him—which he didn’t! He just thought he was a bit… odd . But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to see him again, everyone was a bit odd from time to time.

A small whimper accidentally escaped his mouth at the thought; he just wanted to see if Gerard was okay. Not a peep had come from his room. Not even after Frank had made a second pot of coffee, allowing the comforting smell to fill out the apartment, in an attempt to lure Gerard out. Nothing.

Frank turned his head to face Mikey—he laid on his side, his glasses folded up on the coffee table in an attempt to get comfy, he looked like he was about to fall asleep again. “Mikey,” Frank voiced, waiting for him to lift his gaze from the TV.

“Yeah?” It was pretty much the first time Frank had heard him speak all day, his voice was quiet and soft.

“Is Gerard here?” Frank said, not trying to sound too concerned, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

“Yeah, of course he is.” Then he turned his attention back to the screen, his eyelids hung heavy and he had both of his hands under his head as he laid against the arm of the couch, his legs folded up to his stomach. After a few minutes of stretched silence, Mikey spoke again. “Why?” He said simply, keeping his eyes on the TV—but Frank didn’t think he was watching it anymore, for him it might’ve just been more of a background noise, maybe it was the same for Frank too.

“No reason. It’s just getting late and he hasn’t been out yet, not even for fucking coffee— coffee , Mikey.” Frank joked, letting a smile overcome his features. He earned a small smile from Mikey and a chuckle, then he sat up, facing Frank. Maybe he didn’t plan on going back to sleep after all.

“Yeah, that is a bit weird. But he’s fine, you don’t have to worry. Besides, ‘member our deal?” Mikey smirked, reaching over to the table to slide his glasses back on. Frank cocked his head to the side, letting his confusion show. “Jesus, Frank. Remember in the comic book store? If I told you Gee’s—”

“Oh, yeah.” Frank caught him off without meaning too, realization hitting him. “Well, yeah I know. Space , or whatever the fuck. But it’s not like I was asking to hang out with him, y’know. I just wanted to know if he was here. What are you, his dad?” He laughed, feeling his face warm up, just a tinge.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Mikey laughed as he stood up from the couch, snatching his mug off the table along with Frank’s and carrying them into the kitchen.

With Mikey somewhat out of sight, Frank turned his head around to Gerard’s junk littered door, just a few feet behind him. Not so much as a light source emerged from under the small slit beneath the door. 

Was Gerard even in there?

Notes:

Comments are always appreciated and cherished. So tell me what you think, or if there are any mistakes I might've missed! Have a very good rest of your day/night!! :D