I Ran To You

by SadPuppetShow

Summary:

He wants to forget tonight ever happened; forget he wasted his time playing hero to some girl he was never going to see again. He wants to forget how tightly you held him as the two of you walked to his car. He especially wants to forget the feeling of your hand in his and the soft whisper of your voice.

 

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

 

But what he wants most of all is to let himself believe it.

~~

After a truly terrible decision to gatecrash one of Julie's legendary house parties, you soon find yourself wrapped up with Ormond's most notorious gang, but is their leader really as bad as his reputation?

And why can't you stop thinking about him?

Notes:

Welcome to my self indulgent yandere Frank x reader fic, I hope you enjoy your stay. (Pictured here: British writer pretends they understand the Canadian school system. I tried but I probably got some things wrong, sorry.) Ahead is mentions of drinking, drugs, violence, gore, unhealthy relationships, implied/attempted SA (Not by Frank) and other dark themes and things you'd expect of DbD/The Legion. Please read the tags.
I wasn’t going to post this thing originally but it’s been in my drafts for so long and I had so much fun writing it - maybe someone will have fun reading it. Pretty much everything is written, so updates will be regular.
This fic was fuelled by 2010s nightcore and monster energy.
Sad-Puppet-Show on tumblr if you wanna connect <3
Enjoy !! <3

Chapter 1

You should have known what a terrible plan this was from the beginning. It didn’t sound so bad when your best friend first mentioned it, the two of you huddled over books in the corner of the library and trying desperately to talk about anything except studying. Exams were coming up soon and the mounting stress was threatening to crush you, maybe that's why you even entertained such a ridiculous idea in the first place. The rundown library on the edge of town was starting to become all too familiar over the last few weeks; Hell, you could probably map out every coffee stain and each broken bookshelf by memory at this point.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Lucy chirps, way too energetic for this late in the afternoon. “It’s been so long since we last went out together, you never take me up on my offers anymore.” She leans back in her seat opposite you, earning a painful groan from the chair’s old legs.

“I’ve been busy studying, just like you should be, too.” You reply, looking up from the textbook you hadn’t read a word from since sitting down. “Besides, we haven’t even been invited. How would we get in?”

“Ugh, stop reminding me.” Lucy moans, looking at the pile of papers in front of her with nothing short of malice. “House parties aren’t like that, it’s not like Julie’s sending out invitations or something. You just kinda… turn up? I think.”

“I don’t think you’re thinking enough, actually. The type of people who’d attend Julie’s parties aren’t ones I think we want to meet.” You say, abandoning any pretence of pretending to work and leaning back in your chair, stretching your tired muscles. You turn to look out of the cracked library window, the darkness outside reflecting your image back at you through the glass. It was getting late and you’d made almost no progress on your work. This really wasn’t the time to think about gatecrashing a house party, was it? You had almost no idea who Julie was, knowing of her only through rumours that circulated around college. Julie’s parties were no secret. It wasn’t uncommon to hear your classmates whisper about the absolute rager that was thrown every month, exaggerated to the point you doubted they’d even attended at all. The type of people who would happily attend a party like that weren’t the ones who also attended your honours classes. Well, you assumed so anyway.

“What about the super hot guys from the next town over? I bet you’d love to meet one of them.” Lucy teases with a dramatic bat of her eyelashes in a way that was almost as annoying as it was funny. “Come on, just for twenty minutes this Saturday? It’s not like you’re busy.”

Ignoring the snub against your admittedly barren social life you agree, if only because you know Lucy wouldn’t drop the issue if you didn’t. If it was anyone else’s party you might be even a tiny bit excited, but you’d never even seen Julie before, let alone talked to her. There was no guarantee you’d even be allowed in. You sigh, taking a swig from the flask of coffee on your desk that had long since gone cold. The two of you pack up your belongings and make your way out to your car, parked under the only working streetlamp in the library’s tiny car park.

You drop Lucy home with a promise that you’d pick her up again on Saturday for Julie’s party, which she “totally knew” the location of and for you to “not to worry” about the details. You drive home in silence, the radio buzzing slightly with static. As much as your conscience told you this was a bad idea, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit excited. Lucy was right about one thing, at least. It really had been a long time since you’d left your shared house for anything other than classes. Maybe a fun night out would be just what you need to avoid the looming burnout threatening your already poor levels of productivity. There’s still a couple of months till exam season starts, a night off couldn't hurt, could it? 

Saturday came all too quickly, as did the coalescing sense of dread and excitement that accompanied it. You pull up outside the address on the outskirts of town after collecting Lucy, who’s excitement was tangible on the drive there. A few scattered clusters of people stood drinking or smoking in groups outside the house - the house which had clearly been abandoned. The whole street looked abandoned, in fact. Each house boasted an overgrown lawn and boarded up windows, which might have been unsettling if it wasn’t for the loud music and lights emanating from the party. Already the amount of people you could see sent a small wave of anxiety over you as Lucy drags you out of the car and towards the front door - which had clearly been kicked off its hinges. You earn a few strange looks from onlookers as you enter, a courtesy that was not extended to Lucy apparently. She waves and speaks briefly to a handful of people you’d never seen before.

You take a deep breath. While this hadn’t been exactly what you imagined, you were still determined to make the most out of it. You so rarely got the chance to let loose and have fun since moving to Ormond for your studies, and if there was ever an opportunity to do so, this was it. Lucy shoves a can of beer into your hand and begins to introduce you to the group she’d greeted earlier, a couple of guys and a girl. That reluctant speck of excitement ignites in your chest. Tonight, you were going to have fun and not think about all the responsibilities that would bear down on you as soon as tomorrow came. You take a sip of your drink.

And that was the last thing you remember.

Chapter 2

The first thing you realise upon waking up is how cold you are. It feels as if you’re outside in the snow with nothing on. But that isn’t right. You are still indoors, and from the heavy thumping of the music downstairs, you are still at Julie’s party. With a groan you attempt to sit up, a movement which makes the entire world spin around you. You are alone in the bathroom of the abandoned party house, propped up against the wall and within spitting distance of the toilet. Which was actually a good thing, considering how sick you currently feel. You tap around your jacket pockets to locate your phone and check the time, but your search comes up empty. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since you arrived, right? From the sounds of the party downstairs, things were still lively and showing no signs of stopping. Had you really drank so much you’d passed out in the bathroom of some random house? Maybe Lucy was right, you really were a lightweight.

You make a pathetic attempt to stand up which only makes everything spin faster, so you resign yourself to your fate of sitting on the cold tile floor until you sober up a little. Once you could move without needing to throw up, you’d find Lucy and walk back home. There was no way you’d be driving back like this. You sigh, placing your head in your hands and no doubt smudging the makeup you’d spent so long on earlier. You should have known what a terrible idea this was from the beginning. Clearly you weren’t cut out for this sort of thing.

Through your haze of self pity and your desperate attempts to make the room stop spinning, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the open bathroom door.

“You look like you’re having fun. Party hard, right?” Said a male voice from somewhere ahead of you. You whipped your head in their direction, the sudden movement earning you a sharp pain in your temple. The dim light from the bathroom emanates a faint glow out into the corridor, catching on the form of a man leaning up against the doorway. He was dressed mostly in black, a leather jacket laid overtop a dark hoodie and equally dark jeans. The poor lighting, and your unfocused vision, made it hard to discern his facial features - except for the large, black tattoo that wrapped around his neck and disappeared under his shirt.

“I’m fine.” You snap, hoping whoever this person was they’d just leave you to your solo pity party. They could find another bathroom, or go outside for all you care. Your voice was strained and scratched against your dry throat as you spoke. God, how long had you been out for?

“Clearly.” The figure replied, equally dry but with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You want some water or somethin’? Doubt you’d want another beer right now.”

You grimace at the idea of drinking any more alcohol. Hell, you’d never drink again after tonight. Probably. As much as you want to be left alone, the enticing call of water was too much to ignore and you nod your head. The figure left the room and you could hear his footsteps fading away into the beat of the music and returning soon after. He appeared again, tossing you a bottle of water from his place in the doorway.

“You don’t drink often, do you?” He asks. You still couldn’t see him clearly, but you could imagine the smirk that must decorate his face. You shook your head.

“No, not really.” You reply, starting to feel slightly embarrassed. “I don’t really go out often.” 

“I can tell. I ain’t ever seen you at one of these before, who invited you?” He asks casually, but the question makes your heart skip a beat. Shit.

“Uh- I came with my friend. It was… Sam who invited us.” You manage to stumble out the words without sounding too awkward. You have no idea who Sam is, but you hope the name sounded generic enough to be believable. To your surprise, the man opposite you perks up, looking at you with something resembling shock on his shrouded features.

“Sam invited you? You know him?” He asks in disbelief. “Well, shit. Maybe you’re not a gatecrasher after all.”

“Of course I do, we have… Chemistry classes together.” You reply with all the confidence you didn’t possess. “Why would you think I’m a gatecrasher?” You ask, slightly offended by the notion even though it was completely correct. 

The man chuckles, the sound deep and rich and a welcome comfort against the pounding in your head. He takes a step into the small bathroom, choosing to lean against the wall opposite you. With the shadows gone from his face you could make out the design of his neck tattoo - a winged skull surrounded by dark roses - as well as the harsh, sharp lines of his face. His nose is crooked and decorated with various silver piercings that stand out like diamonds against his pale skin. Everything about him emanates a sense of danger, yet you feel none of it as his dark eyes find yours in the dimly lit bathroom. Maybe it’s the alcohol still buzzing in your system - but something about the way he looks at you evaporates any sense of fear you may have felt had you met him in different circumstances. Or maybe it was the fact he brought you water. That must be it.

“Because you don’t look like the type of girl that comes to shitholes like this.” He pauses for a moment. A smirk creeps into the corners of his mouth“...And you’ve been passed out drunk on the bathroom floor for an hour.” 

“An hour?” You repeat more to yourself than to him. Your head swims with half-formed memories of the night’s events. Lucy had introduced you to some of her friends and you’d all gone into the house to find more drinks. You vaguely remember talking to a younger guy you’d seen around campus, and the heavy feeling of his arm over your shoulder as you drank lukewarm beer; the feeling of his wandering hands against your skin. Ugh. You don’t remember how many you’d had, only that each time you’d finished a can, a new one would appear in your hand soon after. You wonder where Lucy is - or if she was looking for you.

“Give or take, yeah.” He says casually, his voice bringing you back to reality. He offers a small shrug of his shoulders, the leather of his jacket creaks with the movement. A small orange glow catches your eye, and you look back up at the man to realise he has a cigarette between his gloved fingers. He must notice the expression on your face, as he raises an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t like smokers or something? He asks, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“No- I mean, shouldn’t you be doing that outside?”

He gives you a blank look before gesturing with the burning cherry in his hand up to the ceiling of the bathroom. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now you could see a large hole in the roof, allowing you to see the stars hanging in the night sky. Dim moonlight filters through the hole, catching the grey tendrils of the cigarette smoke as it dances around the room. You guess that explains why it’s so damn cold in here.

“Besides, this place was a shithole to begin with. A lil’ smoke ain’t gonna make it worse.”

You look around at the broken tiles lining the floor and walls, trying not to focus too hard on the plant life creeping its way through the cracks. This place really is a shithole, even for an abandoned house. The hole in the roof really ties the whole look together.

“Oh. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that.” You say, gaze drawing back up to the night sky. It must be well past midnight by now.

“Because you’re absolutely wasted, that’s why. How much did you drink, anyway?” The man asks, taking another drag on his cigarette. The amber glow faintly illuminates his face as he brings it to his mouth.

“Maybe three or four? I don’t remember” You answer honestly. 

“Ha. Lightweight.”

You are quickly losing your patience with your mysterious water-giver.

“Okay, If you’re finished playing twenty questions then can you move out of the way. I have my own bathroom floor to go and pass out on…” You want to try pulling yourself to your feet, but don’t want to attempt such a feat in front of him, lest you stumble and smash your face off the bathroom tiles. 

“You really think you can make it home in your condition, Miss Lightweight? You can barely stand up.” That may be true, but it wasn’t going to stop you from trying. 

“That’s not for you to worry about.” You snap, with a little more venom than you intended. Whoever this guy was, he was quickly overstaying his welcome.

“Oh, I’m not worried.” He says, dropping the cigarette to the floor and extinguishing the embers with his boot. He pushes off the wall and takes a step towards you. “But I am interested. Besides, Sam would kill me if he knew I let one of his girls go home alone. I’ll take you.”

“No you won’t. I’m perfectly fine.” The lie even sounds obvious to your own ears.

He takes another step forward, further into the run-down bathroom before crouching in front of you. This close, you can faintly smell the cheap cologne and lingering cigarette smoke on his body, as well as something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He’s slightly taller than you, leaving you eye level with the screaming winged skull wrapped around his neck. The inked skin moves as he talks, voice more serious than before.

“Clearly you don’t come to places like this often, but you should still keep this in mind. There’s some bad guys here, who would just love to walk in on a pretty little thing like you all helpless and do whatever they wanted. If ya really want to be stubborn and go it alone, that’s fine by me - but it would be a pretty stupid decision.”

A dull fear creeps up your spine at his words. He wasn’t wrong. You, yourself, had warned Lucy of the dangers of these sorts of parties, and then you went and passed out alone in the bathroom of some abandoned house? You should have listened to your gut. Maybe then you wouldn’t be getting lectured by a stranger.

A stranger who was now staring down at you, waiting for your answer. 

“If everyone here’s so bad, then why should I trust you?” 

“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t trust anyone. But I promise I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to ya. I don’t need to get a woman drunk for her to fuck me. They do that willingly.”  You roll your eyes, earning a chuckle from him. He stands, and his leather jacket creaks as he extends a hand down for yours..

“What do ya say? You comin’?”

You think of all the reasons this was a bad idea. You have no clue who this guy is. You don't even know his name. Getting into a car with him was about as stupid of a decision you could come up with. Yet, the idea of him leaving you alone in this shithole was somehow worse. It wasn’t like you’d be able to drive in your condition, so that left you walking home. Alone.

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You secretly thank whoever the fuck Sam was for being your imaginary friend. You couldn’t imagine Neck Tattoo being so accommodating, otherwise.

With shaking fingers, you reach out and grab his hand.

“That’s a good girl.”

You really were making all the bad decisions tonight.

~~

The journey from the bathroom to your mysterious stranger's car is a blur. Music still blares from the speakers downstairs, the thumping so loud you feel it in your brain. You scan the faces in the crowd for Lucy, but couldn’t find her amidst the sea of unfamiliar people. You think about texting her for a moment before you remember your lack of a cell phone. With the shitty pay from your shitty job, it was going to take you forever to replace that thing.

The cold night air hitting your face once you step outside was simultaneously the best and worst thing you’ve ever felt. Your outfit does little to protect from the icy breeze of Ormond and you feel a shiver run through you. You pull at the sleeves of your leather jacket in a futile attempt to keep the cold at bay.

You’re pretty sure you fell asleep during the car ride. You barely mumble your address to your companion before sinking into the scratched leather seats that had no right being as comfortable as they were. You hear him say something in that deep voice of his, probably something at your expense, but all you could think about was how desperate you were to finally get home and fall asleep in your own bed. You try not to think about the hangover you’d be nursing tomorrow.

~~

You wake up to familiar shapes crossing the passenger window. This is your street.

“Y’know I think that’s the first time a girls ever fallen asleep on me twice .” He says, noticing you stirring in your seat. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting against the driver’s side window.

You really fell asleep in a stranger's car? If this was a horror movie, you’d totally be the first girl to die.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m just so…tired.”

“That’ll happen when you’re a lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. Tonight was just a bad night.”

“Mhm.” He hums, not sounding the least bit convinced. 

The car comes to a stop outside your house. You glance at the glowing digital clock on the dashboard. Ugh. Your roommates are going to hate you for coming home at three AM and waking them all up. Not that you care. They’d done the same to you countless times. You just hoped one of them was still awake to let you in, considering your lack of keys and phone.

“Thank you, by the way.” You say softly, turning your gaze to the complete stranger who’d just helped you get home safe and amazingly not stab you on the side of the road. “For… Well, everything. I’d probably still be in that bathroom if it wasn’t for you.”

He shrugs.

“No big deal. I told ya, already. Sam would kill me if he knew you got hurt…” A smirk plasters itself across his face. “...especially if he actually existed.”

Your mouth falls open.

He bursts out laughing, the sound deep and raspy. Your mouth hangs open to say something, but one look at you only manages to renew his mirth. He really knew you were lying from the start and didn’t say anything? You feel your face burn red.

“Sorry, sorry-” He chuckles out when his laughing fit finally subsides. He doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic. “But that look on your face was just too fuckin’ funny.”

“You really knew I was lying about Sam this whole time?”

“Fuckin’ course I did. You couldn’t have made it much more obvious.” He chuckles again, and despite yourself, you laugh too. Maybe your imaginary friend plan wasn’t as foolproof as you thought it was. “Me and you should play poker sometime.”

“So you knew I was a gatecrasher?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why did you help me?”

“I told ya, I’d hate to see something happen to a pretty girl like you. Especially at your first house party.” His gaze hardens, but only just, his expression barely illuminated by the neon lights of the dashboard. “Lotta bad people out there, sweetheart. You should be more careful.”

That wasn’t something you needed to be told. 

Comfortable silence passes between you for a second. You should totally get out of his car about now. Instead, your mouth opens of its own accord.

“Do you think you're one of them?” You ask, your voice sounding so much quieter than it was before.

“One of what?”

You swallow. 

“One of the bad people?”

Silence overcame the space between you once more. Inwardly you curse yourself for asking such a question to the man who had been nothing but courteous to you all night. You really need to get out of his car before you say anything else to embarrass yourself. You turn to the door and open your mouth to make your excuses and escape from the awkward situation of your own making. If anyone asks, you'd blame the alcohol-

“Sweetheart, I’m one of the worst.” He snickers, though there's no humour in his words. “That's what everyone thinks.”

You pause again, one hand on the door handle. 

“I didn't ask what everyone else thinks.” You say, softly into the silence. “I asked what you think. Because I don’t think you’re a bad guy.” You offer. You may not know him very well- okay at all, but anyone who would go out of their way to help someone in need couldn’t be that bad, could they? 

“You don't know me.” 

“I don't need to know you. I don't think a bad guy would help me the same way you did, tonight.” You drop your gaze to the hem of your skirt, rubbing the fabric between your fingers.

“Then you’d be the first.” He mumbles. His expression remains unchanged, but something within his eyes flickers. “You should go in.”

“If you give me a second I can find you some gas money-” 

“Don't need it.” He cuts you off.

You offer him a shy smile and another mumbled “thank you” as you climb out of the car gracelessly. Your shaking legs carry you to the front door of your house. The cold wind blows against you, and you pull up the collar of your leather jacket against the breeze.

Wait- your leather jacket?

You don't own a leather jacket. 

You whip your head around to take one last look at the beat up car as it drives off, its flickering headlights cutting a path through the sea of darkness that eventually envelops it. 

He never even told you his name.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Ages are gonna be a lil different around here. Frank is 22, Joey and Julie are 20 and Susie is 17.

Frank’s hands tighten around the leather steering wheel as he watches you stumble your way up to your house. Before he could allow himself to come up with a multitude of excuses as to why he should stay and watch you go in, and maybe even for a while after that, he slams the car into drive and takes off down the road. 

This wasn’t how Frank expected his night to go. It isn’t often he, or anyone for that matter, had an excuse to have fun in the boring town that is Ormond, but Julie’s parties are the monthly exception. Everyone in Ormond and the neighbouring towns are always desperate for something to do that doesn't involve counting fucking snowflakes or watching paint dry, and getting drunk in an abandoned house on the outskirts is as good an activity as any.

He’d spent the early evening smoking with Joey in the backyard, the men listening as Susie tried her best to convince them she’d once punched a guy so hard his front teeth fell out. He had no doubt that the story was true, Susie was tougher than she looked and her temper could match his sometimes. Still, it was funny to watch her get annoyed as Joey told her she was just too short to land that sort of blow.

The amount of people crammed into the house had grown as the night went on, until the sound of idle chatter and drunken laughter was almost enough to drown out the loud music. It was barely even dark yet. Leaving Joey and Susie to their argument - one that would definitely end with Joey losing his front teeth - Frank went in search of beer and maybe even a quiet place to drink it. He wasn’t in the mood for crowds tonight. Maybe he’d chug a few beers and go annoy Julie for a while. Hell, maybe he’d even go find some girl from the next town over to chat up, and then fuck her in one of the empty bedrooms.

But the second he laid eyes on you? He knew his plans for the night had gone to shit.

He first saw you standing on the front lawn, your hands in your pockets as you were surrounded by a group of people you obviously didn’t know, if your body language was any indication. You laughed and smiled as they talked at you, but your eyes gave the impression you’d rather be anywhere else. A drink was quickly shoved in your hand before you, yourself were shoved into the house; into the crowd and away from his sight.

He’d never seen you here before. He would have remembered.

The second time he saw you was in the corner of the front room, barely an hour since you’d first arrived. You took tentative sips of your drink, throwing shy glances to the guy with the shitty haircut who had wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Every so often he’d pull you into his side, shouting some no doubt cringe worthy attempt at flirting in your ear over the bass of the music. Drink after drink was shoved into your hand and you accepted each one with a half smile. Frank tried his best not to notice Mr. Haircut’s hand falling lower down your body, and the smug fucking grin on his face as he did it. The sight made his bones itch.

You didn’t fit in here, that much was painfully obvious. Frank thought you might be able to completely blend into the wallpaper if you tried hard enough. You looked like you wanted to; anything to avoid standing out or drawing attention to yourself.

And that made you stand out more than anything.

Not that he particularly cared. Julie’s parties were always popular, drawing in people from the neighbouring towns he’d never seen before and would never see again. They came, drank, smoked, fucked, came again and left with a hangover the next morning. Whatever you were getting up to tonight was none of his business. Just another chick in the crowd making poor life choices. Not that he could comment on making bad choices.

But still, something about you kept his eyes glancing in your direction all night.

And when he could no longer see your face in the crowd? That same something made him go looking for you.

~~

The third time he saw you, you were passed out, half leaning against the bathroom wall with your arms covering your face. Frank knew what that felt like. It’d been a long time since he’d been that drunk, but he sympathised non the less. 

A strange feeling flooded his system at the sight of you, like someone had just released an iron grip from around his chest. He took in what felt like his first breath since he noticed you were missing from the crowd of drunks downstairs. He'd expected you to have done the smart thing and gone home, but no. That would have made things too easy.

He could leave. He should leave. You were a stranger, and definitely not the only one passed out drunk or high in this house at the moment. You’d gotten yourself into a situation you obviously couldn’t handle. Actions and consequences and all that. Even if he did stick around, Frank fucking Morrison was probably the last person on earth you’d want with you. It was all none of his business. 

Still, the thought of leaving you alone in this shithole sent a wave of dread over him.

Frank may not be a good man -okay, definitely wasn’t a good man - but he still had some morals bouncing around in the place his heart used to be. He couldn’t just leave you here alone. He'd stick around until you woke up, just so no one else would bother you. You didn't even need to know he was ever there.

 Frank swore under his breath as he crossed the threshold and knelt down next to your unconscious body. Fuck him and his bleeding heart.

He checked your pockets for any sign of who you might be. He found your car keys, adorned with a pink smiley face keyring that made him roll his eyes, and pocketed them. If you tried driving home you’d probably end up killing someone and he didn’t want that on his conscience that he’d apparently just developed. Strangers don’t let strangers drink and drive or something like that.

His reason for taking your phone, though? He didn’t have a good excuse for that. He flipped the lid up and fiddled with the tiny keypad, scrolling through your recent messages and phone calls. Four contacts; Mom, Dad, Lucy, Doctor. He stifled a chuckle. ‘Lucy’ had texted you twice in the last couple hours, and another one pinged on the pixelated screen as he clicked through the recent badly spelled messages.

“@ Jacks… C U 2moro. Don't w8 up lol”

He wondered if this was one of the girls he’d seen you with earlier tonight. Some fuckin’ friend she was, if that was the case. Here you were, passed out and wasted while she’d gone to some guy's place without even calling you first. 

Frank spent the next half hour standing outside the bathroom door, glaring at anyone who tried to get past him into the dingy little room. They could freeze their dicks off pissing outside for all he cared, he wasn’t letting anyone else find you. He'd very nearly started a fight with some dude who didn't listen when Frank told him to fuck off. He would have welcomed it. Anything to ease the tension that pulsed through his veins. Like a spring ready to snap. As soon as you woke up, he was going to find that guy and-

He heard you groan as you woke, pulling yourself off the cold, cracked tiles and looking like you wish you hadn’t woken up at all. Your hair was a mess, your makeup smudged and your outfit stained with spilt beer. Your eyes landed on him across the dingy, dark bathroom and his heart stopped.

You really were fucking up all his plans tonight.

~~

Frank’s pissed. At what in particular, he can’t put a finger on. The blood rushing through his veins burns with the need to move; to do something, anything . Still, he remains in the same position, staring absentmindedly out of the window and tapping his finger restlessly against the leather steering wheel. He’s barely a block from your street, despite it being hours since he dropped you off. The orange glow of daylight had long since started to light up the sky, seeping through the clouds and reminding him of just how long he’d been sitting here.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

Your words spin around his head, smashing into his thoughts and breaking them apart until nothing is left except the sound of your voice. The way you looked at him as you spoke, your tired eyes so full of gratitude, had burned itself into his brain. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Like he was someone worthy of trusting.

Because he wasn’t.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

Frank scoffs to himself, his gloved fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

Who the fuck were you to talk? You didn’t know him. You’d barely even spent two hours with him. Why should he care about the opinion of some random chick who didn’t even know his name? Clearly you had no idea who he was, or you wouldn’t have been so mindlessly trusting of him in the first place. Your naivety was pathetic; almost enough to make him laugh.

Frank pries his hands away from the steering wheel and fishes a lighter out of his pocket, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling the smoke through clenched teeth. What had you done to get so fucking far under his skin? The feeling flooding through his veins was as familiar as it was strange. A small part of him was angry, but there was something else too. Something he couldn’t identify. Something that consumed him.

He wants to forget tonight ever happened; forget he wasted his night playing hero to some girl he was never going to see again. He wants to forget how tightly you held him as the two of you walked to his car and he especially wants to forget the feeling of your hand in his and the soft whisper of your voice.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy.”

But what he wants most of all is to let himself believe it.

Chapter 4

Frank fucking Morrison?” Lucy whisper-shouts, bringing her hands down on the table for emphasis and causing your half empty coffee cups to rattle.

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me his name.” You reply, picking up your cup and drinking the remaining lukewarm liquid. You’d decided to tell her the whole story of how you managed to get home last night, and your actions sounded even more ridiculous to you in the daylight. How you hadn’t been murdered or robbed while wasted in some abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was a miracle. If this really was a horror movie, you definitely wouldn’t be earning that ‘final girl’ status.

“You don’t know?” Lucy asks, something between shock and annoyance in her voice. “Tall guy? Face full of metal? Julie’s fucking ex-boyfriend? That Frank Morrison?

You shrug, turning your attention back to your cup of coffee. The two of you sit opposite each other in your favourite little coffee shop, only a few minutes walk from your house, thankfully. There’s no way you’d be driving anywhere until your hangover had subsided - not that you could without your missing car keys, anyway. Your head is already hurting, but whether that’s from the daylight or from Lucy’s gossiping you weren’t sure. It seems like your roles had gotten switched up somewhere - Lucy was the last person you’d expect to be giving you lectures on responsibility.

“Jeeze, girl. I leave you alone for five minutes and you go and get yourself wrapped up with him of all people. I’m surprised you even made it home at all.” She chuckles, shaking her head.

It was much longer than five minutes, you thought bitterly to yourself. If the two of you hadn’t gotten separated, and Lucy hadn’t vanished from the party altogether, maybe you wouldn’t have been in such a situation in the first place. Although, losing your phone and car keys was pretty stupid, you had to agree. Even if she tried to call you, you wouldn’t have answered. 

“I don’t see what the problem is. He helped me get home when I was too drunk to drive - and to walk. He was nice.”

“He was nice?” Lucy scoffs, “You need to be careful, girl. You don’t want to be on that guy's radar.”

Your brows furrow.

“Why not? What’s so bad about him?”

“Right. I forget you’re still pretty new around here, sometimes.” Lucy leans in closer across the table, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper - as quiet as Lucy could manage, anyway. “You remember that guy from our campus who ended up in hospital? The one who got stabbed and nearly died?”

“You’re not going to tell me…”

“I am. They say Frank did it, and for no other reason than he felt like it. It’s not the first time, either. It’s the reason he got kicked out in the first place, but that must have been before your transfer.”

“People don’t just do that for no reason, there had to be something…”

“Well if anyone would, it would be him. He’s done much worse than that, though. Alex told Jack that before moving here, Frank mur-”

“I don’t care what Alex said, whoever that is.” You cut her off, starting to get slightly annoyed. Whatever rumours we’re floating around were none of your business. “There’s no way someone that bad would still be walking around. They’d be in prison, or something. Not like it matters, I'll never see him again, anyway”

“I hope not.” Lucy says, picking up her coffee and sitting back in her chair. “I don’t want to see you getting wrapped up in that crowd. Some of them aren’t good people. Not the type you should meet”

“Wasn’t meeting people the entire reason you wanted to go to Julies in the first place?”

“Oh, I met someone alright.” Lucy smirks, her expression obscured slightly behind her coffee cup. “And the guy I met isn’t a homicidal maniac.”

“Funny.” You say without humour. A smile cracks over your face as you notice the blush starting to stain Lucy’s cheeks. At least someone had fun last night.

“So…” You begin, in the most teasing voice you can muster. “What was his name?”

 

Chapter 5

He’s done much worse than that.”  

You lie back on your bed, staring up blanky at the ceiling. Lucy’s voice echoes inside your head. Her scathing opinion of Frank Morrison forms such a strong contrast against your own experience with him; the man who went out of his way to help you out when you were nearly too drunk to walk - even if he had a bit of an attitude about it. Your memories of last night, as choppy and incomplete as they might be, make it hard to believe you were both talking about the same person.

But deep down, you knew it was true. Neck tattoos and face piercings were hardly common in Ormond, and him being Julie's ex-boyfriend accounts for his presence at the party that night. If the rumours Lucy had regaled you with were true, then you’d spent most of your evening in the company of a ‘homicidal maniac.’.

But why couldn’t you make yourself care? 

And why couldn’t you stop thinking about him?

With a sigh you sit up and throw your legs over the side of your bed, staring towards the black leather jacket folded neatly on your cluttered desk. Returning it to him would be the right thing to do, especially after everything, but a small part of you bristles at the thought of seeing him again. If the rumours are true, then you would be putting yourself in yet another situation. Maybe Lucy was right, and being on his radar would be the biggest mistake you could possibly make. Frank Morrison was unknown, dangerous and untrustworthy. Apparently.

You reach over to your desk and grab the jacket. The smell reminds you of the party and it almost makes you nauseous; beer, smoke and sweat. The leather jacket had been sitting on your desk since you first arrived home, and upon waking up was the only sign that last night had happened at all. Your foggy mind had managed to forget most of the events that took place, too clouded with alcohol to really remember anything beyond a few brief interactions.

You remember Lucy handing you your first drink, you remember the nameless guy who’s gotten way too comfortable with you, and you faintly remember the disgusted look on his face when you eventually told him you weren't interested. Everything else was nothing more than a blur.

Except for him.

You stand, preparing to set the jacket back down on your desk and turn your attention to something, anything else. Exams are quickly approaching, and you haven't been studying half as much as you should be. As you move, a dull thud sounds from near your feet. You look down to find the source of the noise.

A small, folded up pocket knife stares back at you.

Your breath catches in your throat. 

If you needed any other reason to believe what Lucy had told you; this would be it. Your heroic saviour was carrying a weapon in his pocket the entire night, and you had no idea. This should solidify it; the owner of this jacket was absolutely not someone you wanted to mess with, and definitely not someone you should go out of your way to meet again. You pick up the blade by the handle and place it back into the pocket it must’ve dropped out of.

Lucy is right. You should forget this all ever happened.

If you are even capable of that.

 

Chapter 6

---

This is a terrible idea.

A terrible, stupid, idiotic, awful idea. 

You seem to be having a lot of those lately.

The day goes slower than usual. Each class seems longer than the last, and it becomes harder and harder to focus the closer you get to that final bell. It has been hard to keep your mind on track at all lately. Every attempt at studying leads to you completely ignoring your work and staring out of the nearest window.

The final bell rings and you collect your books and equipment faster than you ever have in your life. You pass through the overly familiar corridors of your college and out into the early afternoon sun. You wave goodbye to Lucy and shuffle your way through the busy crowds of students. You may not know where to find Frank, but you know someone that will.

The leather jacket feels like lead in your bag, its presence weighing you down along with your doubts of your plan. You'd never met these people before, and their reputations alone should be enough to dissuade you from ever wanting to. Maybe once you've rid yourself of the memories the racing thoughts that plague your mind will cease, and you can go back to your normal life - before you got twisted up in this.

Your feet carry you to the back of the college, and towards the abandoned and underused temporary buildings that had been standing half empty for years. You never had a reason to come back here before; no one did, really. This section of land was rarely used, leaving it the perfect place to ditch lessons - and as the rumour mill suggested - the perfect place to find the woman you were looking for.

The first thing you see is the glowing end of a cigarette, burning bright red against the afternoon shadows that engulf the shaded area. Sitting on the concrete steps of a building are two figures, one smaller than the other, passing the glowing cigarette back and forth between them. The taller one notices your presence as you step closer, and something in her posture changes. You swallow.

You’d never met Julie before, but the gossip surrounding her name was a constant around campus. Stories of fights, parties, theft and other activities you didn’t want to think about were a common talking point when it came to her. Whether they are true or not is irrelevant. You don’t want to let such nasty rumours affect your perception of someone you haven’t even met. Rumours and hearsay could be misleading.

She nudges the smaller girl sitting next to her, taking one last drag from the cigarette before handing it back. Her face is mostly obscured by the hood pulled up over her head, but you can see strands of blonde hair falling down and framing her face. Her blue eyes pierce into yours, and you catch a familiar twinkle of a silver piercing in her nose. If this really is Julie, she’s nothing like what you were told. Maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised-

“The fuck do you want?”

Or maybe not.

“Uh, hi.” You start, eloquently. “Are you Julie?”

“Depends who's asking.” She spits, eyeing you up and down before exchanging a glance with the smaller girl next to her. She doesn’t say anything, but you can feel her staring openly at you - although not with the same amount of aggression as her friend. You chance a quick glance at her and note the long, pink hair escaping her hood cascading down her front. With her face obscured you can’t make out her features clearly, but she seems to be younger than you by a couple years. 

“I'm looking for Frank Morrison. Do you know him?” You say, turning your attention back to - who you assume - is Julie. She stands from her seat on the concrete steps and takes a step towards you. She's taller than you imagined…

“Maybe we do. What do you want w- wait.” Julie considers you for a second, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. Something dawns on her face and she whips around to exchange a silent look with the pink haired girl. When she turns back to you a devilish smirk is plastered across her face. “You're that girl from the party, aren't you?”

Oh, shit.

You sputter for a second, trying to find your words. Apparently your story of drunken shame had gone around the rumour mill as well. 

“Uh, yes. Well, I think so. Frank helped me out that night, and gave me this.” From your bag you pull out the neatly folded leather jacket you’d spent far too long thinking about. You’d even gone through the trouble of getting it cleaned. If you were going to return it at all, it'd be best if it didn’t stink of beer and sweat, right?. The knife you’d found was still tucked safely into one pocket, but you tried to forget its weight as you held the leather in your hands. “...I wanted to ask if you could give it back to him.”

Both girls stare at you blankly for a second.

“He gave you his jacket?” Julie almost shouts.

“Are you serious? I knew he didn't get it slashed up in a fight.” The shorter girl says at the same time, a giggle on her lips as she does. 

“Did he seriously tell you that, Susie? He told me Joey stole it.”

“That fucking liar.” The pink haired girl, Susie, says with no real animosity in her words.

You quietly observe the conversation between the two women, your fingers running absentmindedly over the worn leather in your hands. The idea that Frank would have lied to his friends about what really happened - even if he couldn’t keep the story straight - was a funny one, but you didn’t dare laugh. 

Julie turns back to you, a healthy mix of annoyance and amusement written on her face. She extends her hand, and you pass the jacket to her. She regards the folded pile of leather for a second before looking back at you. 

“Did you get this dry cleaned?” She asks, brows furrowed once again.

You swallow, then nod. 

“Jesus, you’re just as bad as him.” She says with a disbelieving chuckle. Her voice no longer holds the same hostility she had greeted you with earlier, and you relax a little. With the ice gone from her gaze, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she is with her high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes - the type of woman you see on the cover of magazines. A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you this is Frank’s ex-girlfriend, according to Lucy, and you can undeniably see why he would be attracted to her. 

You squish down the strange feeling that stirs in your chest at the thought. Get a grip, you barely even know him! Snapping yourself from your thoughts, you speak up again. Suddenly, you want this encounter to be over with as quickly as possible.

“So, can you give it back to him for me?” You ask, keeping any trace of annoyance out of your voice.

Julie glances over at Susie, and the two exchange a look. The silent conversation clearly has no intention of including you, so you simply watch as the pair have their moment. Julie looks overly proud of herself, and Susie's eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“We got a better idea.” Susie speaks first. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

You pause. 

“Uh, not really. Just studying, I guess.”

“Good, then you're coming with us.” Julie states, unbothered by the obvious confusion blossoming across your face. She pushes the leather jacket back into your hands. 

“What? I don’t-.” 

“C'mon. You wanna see Frankie, dontcha?” Susie interrupts your sputtering and stands. Even at full height, she's barely as tall as your shoulder. 

“We don't bite, I promise. Not unless you ask nicely.” Julie says with a wink. “We're meeting up with Frank tonight, if you come along you can give it back to him yourself. Maybe then he'll stop being so annoying.”

“Doubt it.” Susie comments.

You look frantically between the two women. This must be a joke, surely. Still, you’d be lying if you said the thought of seeing Frank again didn’t stir something within you. You still needed to thank him - properly - for his help that night, this time not while drunk and nauseous in the front of his car.

“Are you serious?” You ask.

“Of course. It’ll be worth it just for the look on his face, trust me.” Julie's eyes twinkle as she speaks, and you can't help but feel out of the loop on - whatever it is that's happening here.

You should refuse. This is clearly the start of another one of those bad ideas you’ve been having lately. Yet, your lips move before your brain can formulate a sensible thought. 

“Where are you meeting?”

“Same sorta place as before, only a different house this time. Cops boarded the last place up after the party, as if that'd do anything.” Julie explains, the smirk on her face widening as if she can see your thoughts and know she’s winning you over.

“All the houses around there are empty. All abandoned and creepy like a horror movie. It's so cool!” Susie comments. She leans into Julie, who throws her arm over her shoulder in return. “You’re coming, aren't you? There's a house there I swear is haunted, but no one is brave enough to go in with me.” She asks, doing her best impression of hopeful puppy dog eyes. 

“Well, whatcha say? You did kinda gatecrash my party afterall. I think you owe me one.” 

It was hard to disagree with that logic. Despite the rough greeting you’d been given, Julie and Susie seem nice enough, and you’d be lying if you said Susie's promise of a creepy haunted house hadn’t excited you a little. You could meet Frank again, return his jacket, say what you needed to say, ask your questions and maybe then you can put all this behind you.

You take a deep breath and nod your head.

Just what have you gotten yourself into?

 

Chapter 7

Frank is going to fucking kill Julie.

The woman loved to take every opportunity possible to piss him off, but this? This was far even for her.

Frank and Joey had been sitting on the front steps of some abandoned house on the outskirts - the usual meeting place for their spontaneous hangouts. This street hadn’t been occupied for years, even before he first moved to Ormond, and served as the perfect spot where their presence wouldn’t be complained about by the stuck-ups in town. Julie often organised parties in the derelict buildings around here, which mostly went undiscovered or ignored by the towns-folk or the old, fat sheriff who Frank was practically on first name basis with at this point. 

It was quiet around here. They could do whatever they wanted without being interrupted. It was one of the few things about Ormond he didn’t hate. And there was a lot to hate.

Frank saw Julie’s beat up old car pull up outside the house just as Joey started regaling him with the story of some chick he’d fucked last night. He was grateful for the interruption. It seemed like every fucking week Joey had a new story about a girl he’d met, and Frank couldn’t decide between ignoring him or kicking him in the teeth. He couldn’t listen to another one of those stories. Not tonight. 

“Frankie! We brought you a present!” Susie called, jumping out of the backseat and skipping up the path to him and Joey, immediately stealing the open can of beer from Joey's hand. When he sees another figure step out of the car and approach the yard, following behind Julie, his heart stops.

Frank glares at Julie across the yard, and the knowing smirk on her face tells him everything he needs to know. 

She did this on purpose, and was clearly loving every second of it. 

He’d tried to lie his way out of it, of course, when Julie first bothered him about his disappearance that night. She could always see through his bullshit, though, and it wasn’t long before he’d spilled the whole story to her. Clearly that had been a mistake.

He'd left out a few parts of the story, though. Julie didn't need to know he'd taken your phone, and she especially didn't need to know about the conversation you had in his car. He'd also not mentioned the mop-headed fuck you were drinking with in his recounting - not out of any need to lie, but simply because he didn't want to relive the moments he saw you with him. Frank was no stranger to the fucked up things that could happen at parties like that. He'd attended enough to see first hand the type of shit drunk people get up to. Yet watching that guy pass you drink after drink, his arm around your waist and a smug look stapled to his face - yeah, that wasn't something he wanted to think about.

It pissed him off to no end, just how much of his time he’d taken up just fucking thinking about you. You’d only spent a couple of hours together, but somehow you’d still managed to sink your claws into him until his nerve endings burned. Maybe it was the way you looked at him with such unrestricted trust, or maybe it was how tightly you held onto him as you both walked to his car - you clung to him as if he were someone worth relying on. As if he'd done anything to earn the trust you'd so easily given him. As if he wasn't just as bad, if not worse than every other guy at that party.

As if he truly wasn't a bad guy for those few hours you spent with him.

He hates it. 

You walk up the path to the house, Julie separating from you to go grab a beer from the cooler next to Joey. Your face betrays the trepidation swirling around your mind with every step you take. It’s not hard to imagine why - walking up to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town, surrounded by people you didn’t know. Every synapse in your brain is probably begging for you to run.

But you don’t.

Instead, you look towards him. Your eyes meet. A smile lights up your face, and something inside him shatters.

 

Chapter 8

On the short car ride to wherever Julie was taking you, you'd tried your best to memorise a script of what you'd say when you actually met Frank Morrison again. You'd give him back his jacket, thank him - sincerely - for helping you that night and maybe even indulge in some small talk. Maybe then you could leave this whole thing behind you, finally having banished that sick feeling of guilt and embarrassment from your stomach.

Yet as you stepped out of Julie’s beat up car and followed her up to the house, all words seemed to fail you. 

Frank sat on the stone stairs leading up to the dilapidated house, a cigarette in one hand and a beer sitting by his feet. His eyes found yours. Steely and cold. You offered him a small smile, but that didn't seem to temper his gaze. He stared at you, face unreadable, as you walked up the garden path towards him.

Remember your script. Make it quick.

“I-I wanted to give this back to you. It didn’t feel right to keep it.” You say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the anxiety pumping through your veins right now. You collect his leather jacket from your bag and hold it out towards him. He stares at it for a moment before his eyes flick back to yours.

“You…” He starts, taking the bundle from your hands. His gaze seems to soften slightly - replacing coldness with confusion. “You came all the way here to give back a jacket?”

You blink. Maybe it was a little strange to care so much about a jacket, but the thing had been practically taunting you for the days since the party. It didn't belong to you. It was only right to give it back.

“Well, yeah, I guess.” You mutter, “were you expecting me to keep it?” 

“I dunno. I just didn’t think you’d want to- Did you get this fucking dry cleaned?”

Did everyone here have a vendetta against the dry cleaners or something? 

“Yeah I did. I thought it would be a nice way to thank you” You mutter, now feeling more than a little silly. “Oh, and I wanted to say thank you, again, for-”

“Haven’t you thanked me enough, already?” He cuts you off. In a swift motion he swings the jacket around his shoulders and puts it on. It definitely suits him more than you.

“I don’t think I've thanked you enough, actually.” You reply, with a hint of indignation. “God knows what would have happened to me if you hadn't...”

“Well, someone had to. Your man wasn’t exactly scrambling to help.”

Your brows furrow.

“My man?” 

“That dude you were with. The one with the shitty haircut that looked like a Beatles reject.”

Memories start to flood back to you at the mention. He was one of Lucy’s friends you’d never seen before, who was probably more than a little too attached to your hip that night. You’d completely forgotten about him in the days following the party. Still, the vague memory of his hands on you makes you feel slightly sick.

“Oh, he’s not-” You start, both surprised and a little disgusted at the idea of that guy being your boyfriend. “I just met him that night. I don’t even know his name.”

Frank takes a long drag from his cigarette until the glowing cherry nearly reaches his lips, the orange light reflecting slightly in the shiny silver of his multiple lip piercings. Standing this close to him, you can see his face much more clearly than you could back at the party. His lips and nose were adorned with multiple silver hoops and bars, and you can barely see black and grey tattoos curling around his wrists under his newly adorned jacket. Bringing your eyes back up to his face you notice a few small scars across his cheeks and nose - as well as one, jagged line of shiny pale skin intersecting his left eye. Just before you can wonder how exactly he got them, you realise he’s staring at you. Shit, had he been talking this whole time?

“Uhm, I- Sorry, what was that?” You manage to stutter out. He chuckles In response.

“Don’t worry about it, I-” 

“Hey party girl.” Calls an unfamiliar voice, cutting Frank off. You turn to the owner - the only other member of the group you'd yet to meet - as he rummages through the cooler. “You want a beer?”

The thought of alcohol turns your stomach. You’ve just barely recovered from your last run in with drinking, and you really don’t feel like a repeat performance tonight. 

“Oh, uh. No thank you.” You smile, trying your best to be polite. “I should be going soon, anyway.”

“You sure? I heard you’re real good at holding your booze.” He says with a laugh.

“Shut it, Joey.” Frank snaps in return.

Oh, so that was just common knowledge then.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” The other man - Joey - answers with a chuckle, clearly unbothered by the icy gaze Frank is shooting his way. Frank mumbles something under his breath as he takes another drag on his cigarette. He turns to you again.

“You got much else planned tonight?” Frank asks, finally finishing his cigarette and throwing it into the dead grass.

“No, just studying-” 

“Oh, so nothing. Perfect. Stick around for a bit if you want. I’ll drop you home later.” 

Your thoughts take a moment to catch up with you. He wants you to stay? The thought causes a rush of both excitement and apprehension to rush through your veins. You should definitely refuse - you came here to return Frank’s jacket and put this whole messed up weekend behind you. With no loose ends, you can return back to your normal, everyday life before you found yourself at that god forsaken party. You need to go home.

But why don’t you want to?

You look toward the rest of the group. Joey and Susie are engaged in a heated battle over an open can of beer, with Joey holding it high over the shorter girl's head as she tries to climb him like a tree. Julie leans against the brick wall of the house, flicking idly through a small collection of cassette tapes while watching the wrestling match unfold. As if noticing your gaze, she looks over to you and offers you what may constitute a smile. 

You could think of worse places to spend the evening.

At your desk studying, for one. 

“I suppose I can stay for a while longer. What exactly do you guys do for fun?” You ask, looking back to Frank.

It may just be a trick of the dim afternoon light, but you swear you see his eyes sparkle.

“I’ll show you.”