Get Me Out Of Dawesbury!

by walkingatnightalone

Summary:

After waking up in a random forest with his wrists slit, bleeding out to die and no memory of how he got there, 17 year old Gerard Way is told by the nurses at the hospital that him and his family are going to have to relocate to a small town in the middle of “Fuck-Nowhere-Alberta”.

The move was supposed to help him recover from what everyone around him is convinced was a suicide attempt, but despite all signs logically pointing to him attempting to take his own life, Gerard knows something isn’t right, and the longer he stays in Dawesbury, the more things don’t seem to line up.

Things become increasingly more complicated when he meets Frank Iero, the peppy boy from his English class that he can't seem to understand, and tries to figure out what it is about Frank that unsettles him.

Notes:

Welcome to my first ever fic!!! Ahhh! I have no idea if anyone is even gonna read this, but if you do, thankyou so much for being here with me for this journey. Unfortunately I'm a slow writer so updates MAY be few and far between but bare with me. Also, I am not canadian/american and lowkey have no idea how the school system works there so if mess up, sorry! I hope you enjoy what my brain came up with at 3 am, feedback is always appreciated, and if you enjoyed, leave a kudos! LOVE YOU!!!!!!

EDIT: I have fixed all the gramatical mistakes that were in the first few chapters, cannot believe I missed them I'm SO SORRY. If you find anything else please let me know!

There is also a playlist here made by the wonderful hold_ontightlyletgolightly!

Chapter 1: Prologue

 
Gerard Way doesn’t know where he is, or how he ended up bleeding out from the wrists in the middle of a forest, but somehow- that's the situation he’s in at the moment. 

He’s always been a glass half empty kinda guy, evident in the fact that instead of trying to stem the blood gushing from his hands, he decides to accept his fate, and lays down to die-, reasoning that if he mysteriously ended up in this predicament, then maybe it’s for a reason. 

He has no idea how he could have possibly ended up like this, and as he slumps to his knees next to a large, moss-covered boulder, he desperately tries to conjure up any memory older than five minutes. 

He comes up blank. 

The air around him suddenly takes on an intense chill, and he feels goosebumps sprout across his arms and legs, rippling his already bruised and bloody skin. He feels slightly hazy, like his mind is being wrapped up in cotton wool and squeezing his brain uncomfortably, rendering his vision slightly fuzzy and spotty.  

He somehow ends up slumped against the boulder, worryingly calm and accepting of his situation, having lost all feeling in his hands and arms, and busies himself with half-attempting to clean the blood from his jacket, as well as he can do with numb hands. He doesn’t remember much, but he has a feeling the jacket is special. 

He lays there for what feels like hours, his blood decreasing from gushing from his wounds to being nothing but a warm trickle, and he wonders how much blood you can lose before you die. As he ponders this thought, the haziness that had been slowly building behind his eyes for the past however-long starts to take command of his vision, and the shadows peering from behind the trees begin to bend menacingly towards him.  

In his half-deluded state, he thinks he sees the faint outline of someone walking closer, a ghostly palm outstretched in his direction. Hah, now he’s seeing ghosts. Isn’t that hilarious? Even more hilarious, he thinks, is how concerned this ‘ghost’ looks. It's sort of a bit late for concern- he’s practically gone at this point. He can tell.  

The wind seems to swirl around the figure, and the chill from earlier returns but stronger this time, the atmosphere taking on an almost supernatural feel. Time seems to simultaneously speed up and slow down, like he’s been put in some sort of space-time blender, and he feels sick. 

This mysterious ghost continues to get closer, and his eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand pounds- he’s fighting hard to keep them open, if for the sole purpose of seeing this supposed ghost. Maybe he’s got more of an unconscious drive to survive than he was aware of. 

Eventually, just before the ghostly hand reaches out to touch his chest, he closes his eyes and feels the dark pull of the void. It feels warm. Inviting. Irresistible to a futile human mind, ready to embrace the ease of the undead. 

He’s happy to oblige. 

He feels the tendrils of darkness wrap around his mind, cradling him, promising a newfound feeling of peace beyond, -when a white-hot spark suddenly lights in his chest, like someone had just stabbed him with a flaming torch.  

He jolts back into himself, he can feel it, like being dumped in cold water, his body spasming slightly as his soul floods back into his weak body, aided by this strange spark, like surfing a wave of lava. He suddenly feels an overpowering will to survive flood his body, like someone had flicked a switch in his survival instincts, and the call of the void was dampened by his determination. For a few seconds, he fights to open his eyes, and tries to hoist himself up weakly.

Despite this overwhelming will to live though, his body cannot keep up, -the mind can only do so much- and he cannot muster the strength to open his eyes. 
Like the wind itself was speaking to him, he hears, I can help you, if you help me too. With those words resounding through his mind like an unearthly whisper, he finally slips into unconsciousness.  
 
☆ 
 
There were several gangs of monkeys, each occupying an area on the jungle floor, seeming to be staring him down with threateningly wild eyes, as though their animalistic urges would give away at any moment, charging towards him and ripping him apart. He was strong though, and was well versed in combat. He forced his body into a fight-ready stance, and steadied his breathing, reaching for the knife that he always kept on his person.  

However, he just felt a strange, soft fabric, instead of the familiar solid worn handle of the hunting knife. He looked down, not wanting to seem like he feared the monkeys- that would only give them more reason to attack-, but his curiosity won out, and maybe a slight bit of confusion and panic too.

 
The sight that greeted him was entirely more confusing. A white bedsheet, grasped in his hand, already collecting dirt from the ground, staining the pristine white cotton. His brows furrowed in confusion, trying to cast the sound of the strangely loud machine beeping from his mind in favor of trying to figure out what was going on.  

He looked up again, and the monkeys were still there, their beady black eyes trained on his every movement, the thick heat of the jungle rendering the air heavy and damp, blurring his vision around the edges. He blinked once, and without more than a second passing, the jungle and the monkeys were suddenly replaced with what looked like a small school room, with yellow lights lining the peeling ceiling and casting an unearthly glow across the rows of desks. The wooden door to the classroom opened, and a small statured boy burst into the room frantically, his eyes desperately searching the space before landing on Gerard, his whole face seeming to light up.  

He scrambled across the room, knocking past a few of the desks, and Gerard shrank back against the blackboard, still not quite understanding what was going on and being thoroughly concerned.  

“Thank God, I finally found you!” The guy exclaimed, “Well maybe not thank him, after what happened but--” 

He noticed the look on Gerard’s face and sighed, having ended up standing a foot in front of him, arms outstretched to grab his shoulders, but he decided against it and let them fall to his sides. 

“Listen,” He started, his voice strangely distorted, as though he was talking through a fan. It was this moment that Gerard realized that he looked slightly hazy around the edges, like he wasn’t real, but was maybe a hologram of some sort. Or a ghost. Wouldn’t be the craziest thing he had ever seen. Actually, what has he seen? Where even is he? Who is he? 

What in the hell was going on? 

“I just need you to remember what I’m saying, okay? Because if you don’t remember this when you wake up, then I’m... then I’m going to have to resort to other measures to talk to you, okay?” He said, pacing the small space between the blackboard and front row of desks, his eyebrows furrowing deeply into his brown eyes. 
Gerard nodded dumbly, not quite sure what to say.  

“We don’t have much time, but I really need to tell you that-” He was cut off by what sounded like a gunshot in the background, like someone had opened fire somewhere inside the school. 

He gasped and shook his head furiously, “Shit. Okay. I need your help, and it’s really important that when you wake up you follow all of my instructions, or else something really, really bad is going to happen. You hear me?”  

Gerard tried to conjure any intelligent thoughts, but he felt strangely slow and almost like he was watching the whole scene unfold behind a screen. Maybe he was the hologram, instead of the strange boy in front of him. He distantly wondered what the implications of that meant but was brought back to reality by the strange guy snapping his fingers irritably.  

“Are you even listening? This is fucking serious, I need you to understand what I’m saying, and fuck- They're going to be here soon, They already know what I’ve done.” His voice took on a pleading tone, and Gerard looked into his eyes, and nodded. 

“I get it, okay.” His voice came out all wrong and broken, as if he hadn’t spoken for years. “You need me to follow instructions when I wake up... or something?” 

The guy nodded, pleased, but winced as another round of gunfire opened up, resounding through the hallways and amplifying into their eardrums. Gerard frowned suddenly.

“What- what is going on? I mean, where even am I? And who are you-” He was cut off by the guy suddenly throwing his palm over Gerard’s mouth, muffling the rest of his rambling.  

He made a squeak of surprise, and the boy narrowed his eyes at him and tightened his grip over his face. He mimicked a “shh” face and leant even closer to whisper in Gerard’s ear. 

“Just, please, when you wake up, don’t forget. Don’t forget my face. Because if you do,” His eyes seemed to fill with tears, and his voice was nearly inaudible and cracked as he whispered, “Because if you do, then you, and everyone you love- will not live to see another day.” 

Chapter 2: Awake But Not Perceiving

Notes:

I listened to Camisado By P!ATD and Medicating by Boys Night Out while writing this, so if u want full immersion u should listen :p

September 2007

It was then that he woke up, for real this time. The grating beeping of the machines beside him filled his ears, sending confusion flooding through his veins. All his limbs felt heavy and unmovable, as if he was trapped underneath a blanket made of concrete and buried under six feet of dirt. The thought sprung his body back into action, and his eyes snapped open as he gasped in air through his chapped lips, jolting up in the small hospital bed.  

Immediately, he was met with the familiar and concerned eyes of his mother. Blinking once, then twice again, he swallowed slowly, trying to get his dry throat to speak. At the obvious fear that was showing in his eyes, his mother leaped from the small plastic chair she had been sitting on in the corner of the room to the side of the hospital bed, plastering her palm over Gerard’s forehead and gently easing him back down. 

“Hey sweet pea, you’re alright.” She soothed, looking down at him with an equal amount of concern and love in her eyes. “You really know how to scare your mother, don’t you?” 

At that, his heart stuttered in his chest again, the familiar feeling of confusion wrapping its arms around his chest again. What was she talking about?  

He tried willing his voice to speak again, but instead what came out was a mix of a croak and a splutter, so he resignedly closed his mouth. His mother once again shushed him, now petting Gerard’s messy and sweaty hair, shaking her head softy. 

“It’s alright honey, go back to sleep. We can talk when you’re better.” She murmured, eyes no longer trained on Gerard, but instead looking past him at the IV drip that was attached to his arm.  

He couldn’t argue with that, in all honesty, when he was in no state to even speak. Plus, his head felt heavy, and the lull of sleep was hypnotising, and despite his determination to at least try and communicate through hand gestures or something, he gave in to temptation.  

The next time he woke up, his mother was gone, and so was the plastic chair. Instead, it had been replaced by a rather chubby nurse, with harsh eyes that were fixed on rebandaging his wrists. 

He blinked his eyes open again, finally feeling some sort of clearness in his head, although unfortunately it was accompanied by the low thrum of pain in the form of a terrible headache. He coughed lightly, letting the nurse know that he was awake. At the sound, she looked up, her features etched with kind concern, yet it felt slightly patronizing, and she offered Gerard a one-dimensional sympathetic smile.  

“Hey there, finally decided to wake up?” She continued wrapping the pristine white bandage around his wrist and then carefully tucked it in.  

It was then that he actually took notice of his surroundings, in a way he hadn’t the first time he was awake. He was sat in an incredibly cramped hospital bed, the white sheets slightly stained with... what he hoped wasn’t someone else's bodily fluids, that hadn’t been properly cleaned. The sound of the giant monitor next to him was incredibly distracting, the periodic high pitched beeping amplifying his already pounding headache, and he could distantly hear the squeaking of shoes on tiles outside his room. There was an IV drip that was attached to his arm, filled with some sort of clear liquid slowly seeping into his body. The smell of antibacterial cleaning spray was suddenly overwhelming, and he seriously considered just going back to sleep forever.  

The first words that came out of his mouth were aggressive, although he hadn’t meant them to be.  

“What the fuck happened to me?”  

That took the nurse back for a second, a brief flash of shock crossing her features before it was immediately replaced with a well practiced blank smile. “What do you remember, sweetheart?” 

Gerard tried to remember, he really did. It’s not like he had amnesia or anything, he knew who he was, he knew how old he was, he knew the birthday of his friends and he remembered what he got for his 13th birthday. He knew his favourite album was Mellon Collie and The Infinite Sadness by The Smashing Pumpkins, he knew that he hated cats because he was allergic, and he knew that it was just over a year ago when his dad left in silence at midnight and never came back. But remembering how he ended up in hospital with his wrists bandaged and an IV drip in his arm? He couldn’t.  

Desperately searching the eyes of the nurse for any sort of clues, he came up blank and admitted defeat. He had no fucking clue why or how he was here.  

“I don’t remember anything.” The words sounded small and embarrassed, and he hated the way they came out of his mouth. He was always sure of himself, and in group situations, he was the one who always knew what was going on, always the one to figure out the solution . This, however, was something he had no clue about, and it was terrifying. 

“Well, you were obviously struggling with your mental health ,” the nurse said, moving to sit on the end of the bed. “And when people are especially unhappy, they can sometimes result to extreme measures to try and make the pain go away.” 

Gerard narrowed his eyes. Struggling with his mental health? Seriously? Maybe he wasn’t the poster boy for being perfectly stable, but he wasn’t depressed. He was perfectly happy with his life, thank you. 

The nurse continued, “If you told someone how you were feeling, then this might have been able to be prevented. All you kids these days are especially struggling with having all those computers rotting your brains. Honestly, If it were up to me-” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gerard interrupted, not in the mood for another adult to lecture him on how computers were going to be the downfall of humanity. Seriously, he heard enough from his mother as it was. “I’m not depressed, and that also doesn’t answer my question. What happened to me?” A hint of desperation had crept into his voice during the last sentence although he would never admit it. 

The nurse took a deep breath, and opened her mouth, about to speak, when there was a knock on the door. She once again plastered that same patronizing smile on her face and Gerard thought about punching it off her. The bed groaned in protest as she shuffled off the edge and stood up to open the door.  

His mother entered the room, squeezing past the obnoxiously large desk in the corner of the room to come and stand over the bed, gazing down at her son. 

“Hello darling, I’m glad you’re finally awake again. Are you able to speak now?” She asked in a low voice, as if she thought Gerard would shatter if she spoke at a normal voice. He immediately decided he hated people treating him like he was fragile. He wasn’t. In his opinion, he thought he was actually pretty tough, but whatever. 

He was just about to respond to his mother, when the nurse Gerard dubbed Evil Bitch decided to step in before he could say anything, with “He can speak, but I think he should rest for a bit more. Can I speak to you outside, Donna?” She turned to face Gerard’s mother, trying to pass some sort of telepathic message with her eyes. 

“Hey, what the hell? Can I even speak with my own mother?” He asked, voice rough around the edges, almost proving the point of the nurse.  

His mother smiled gently. “Just rest your voice sweetie, I’ll be back in a second.” 

Evil Bitch smiled smugly at Gerard, and as the two of them left the room he flipped her off the second the nurse turned her back.  

He sat there brooding for the whole time his mother and the nurse were talking outside, toying with the idea of him being ‘depressed’ and that somehow leading to him being in hospital. It honestly wasn’t difficult to put two and two together, but that still didn’t feel right. He could hear the lowered voices through the crack under the door, and if he cared enough, then he probably could have strained his ears to listen, but he seriously did not have enough brain power. 

The second the door opened again, he snapped his head up, expecting the nurse to come back so that he could interrogate her more, however- it was just his mother who came back inside, alone.  

She located a lone chair on the other side of the room and dragged it over so she could sit next to Gerard’s hospital bed. When she finally sat, she grabbed his non-IV hand, careful not to touch his wrists, instead tenderly grabbing at his fingers. The touch was so gentle and comforting that all of his annoyance that was growing inside him because of the nurse completely melted.  

He looked into his mother’s eyes, searching them before slowly saying, “I don’t know why I’m here, Mom.” Gerard could physically see her heart break, the way her eyebrows crinkled slightly and the corners of her mouth angled downward, taking on a look akin to that of a kicked puppy. 

“Sweetie...” Her voice broke slightly. “You- you don’t remember anything? At all?”  

Gerard shook his head gently. 

His mother took a deep breath before continuing, fidgeting with her gold bracelet. “They found you in... in the woods. Blood everywhere. They called me, and it was so-” She choked back a sob and squeezed her eyes shut. Gerard’s eyes widened and he felt panic surge through him, white hot. Blood? The woods? What in the world? 

“Keep going Mom, it’s okay. I’m here now.” Gerard said, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. 

His mother met his eyes once again, and he could see the tears that were forming had slipped down her cheeks. “They- they said you tried to kill yourself. Slit your wrists with a knife and laid down to die. I just- I couldn’t believe my baby would do this, you’ve always been so happy and-”  

Gerard cut his mother’s rambling off. “What? Are you fucking serious?” He was sure his eyes were as wide as saucers as he tried to compute this information in his brain. He slit his wrists? In the forest? And just... laid down to die? That was the most un-Gerard thing he had ever heard of in his life. And, he couldn’t remember a thing from this so-called suicide attempt. The entire situation just seemed so far-fetched and strange he was sure he was dreaming again.  

His mother nodded once. “I’m so sorry, I should have paid more attention, I should have known you were struggling and... I failed at my job. Of protecting you.” Tears were starting to take purchase in the corners of her eyes again and Gerard shook his head in disbelief. 

“Mom, no. I- why the hell would I do that? There’s no way. I didn’t try and kill myself, I swear.” He pleaded, trying to get his mother to stop crying, because the loudness of her sobs was beginning to hurt his ears.

“It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t have to try and make me feel better. This is about you. We’re going to get you some help, okay? So you never have to feel like that again.” She said, as if she was trying to convince herself more than her son. 

Gerard just stared at her. He didn’t need a therapist. He needed to fucking remember what the hell happened to him and figure out why he couldn’t remember anything. He tried protesting again, but his mother shushed him and told him that it was going to be okay, and that she had arranged for a therapist to speak to him later. Fucking great.  

He tried not to act too aggressive, - his mother was obviously traumatised, and he didn’t want to make it worse- but he was confused and upset-, and overall, incredibly exhausted and trying to not freak out about the fact that he apparently had giant slices through his wrists. Ew.  

His mother eventually left, promising to be back in a few hours with his brother, and in the meantime, flurries of hospital staff came and left through his room, all of them looking at him with the same expression of pity. He hated it.  

That night, after barely keeping down the disgusting hospital dinner, -some sort of rubbery, flavourless chicken with slightly uncooked rice and crunchy slices of carrot- he fell into fitful and patchy sleep, the painkillers no longer aiding him in falling asleep. He dreamt of nothing. 

When he awoke the next morning, the nurses had decided that he was apparently stable enough able to return home, and they changed his wrist bandages once more before he left. While they were rewrapping it, he got a glance of the cut on his right wrist and his stomach lurched. One thin, deep, nasty looking cut sat on his wrist, having been stitched up, although it did nothing to hide the severity of the wound. It was an ugly purple around the cut, and his skin around the bruises looked red and raw. He wondered distantly if any of his tendons had been sliced too.  

After he was bandaged up and finally allowed to change into some normal clothes instead of the thin and quite plainly, embarrassing, hospital gown, he was escorted through the wings of the hospital to a small room with two couches. The only other decoration in the room was a picture frame hanging on the wall, which had some sort of ugly drawing inside it that was obviously done by a child.  

The nurse who had escorted him through the hospital, -not Evil Bitch, thank God- held the door open and motioned for him to enter.  

He took a few steps inside and noticed that his mother was sitting on one of the couches, with a lady he had never seen before sitting in the couch opposite to her. 

The lady looked up, her kind brown eyes crinkling in a smile as she nodded at Gerard. “Hello there, Gerard! My name is Becca, and I’m here to help you get back on your feet after everything that’s happened.” She extended her arm out for Gerard to shake, and he hesitantly moved towards her and gripped her hand gingerly. Becca’s smile was unwavering, and she motioned for him to sit down on the couch with his mother.  

Tentatively, he sat down, casting a weary gaze in the lady’s direction whilst sitting close to his mother, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders supportively.  

“Now, I’m sure this must be a very confusing and difficult time for you,” She started, offering a sympathetic nod of her head before continuing, not allowing Gerard to speak. “So that’s why I’m here to help create a... gameplan, you could say. Steps we can take to get you back into the swing of a normal life and help you so you don’t feel the need to resort to such measures again.” 

Gerard doesn’t need a stupid gameplan. What he needs is to fucking go home, where he can sit in his room and stare at the wall and listen to Misfits and not speak to anyone until he’s 30. But for some reason, everyone in this stupid hospital is convinced he’s tried to kill himself.  

He’s snapped back to reality as Becca is talking about some sort of therapy session he's going to be enrolled in, when something takes him by surprise. “I’ve talked with your mother, and we’ve both agreed you could use a fresh start, especially since you’ve just gone through something so traumatic your mind has blocked it from your memory.”  

Becca is just about to open her mouth to continue when Gerard interrupts her. “I haven’t blocked out shit. Stop saying that.”  

Becca paused and then continued slowly. “Sorry, I just meant that you, regardless of what you believe and what everyone else is telling you, you did end up in hospital. That is scary regardless and probably confusing.” It was obvious she was choosing her words very carefully.  

“What do you mean by fresh start?” Gerard asks, changing the subject. He had originally decided he wouldn’t speak in an act of defiance- against who, he had no idea, he was just angry at the world- but after hearing this he needed answers immediately, none of this beating-around-the-bush bullshit that everyone in this hospital seemed to love doing.  

Becca smiled tightly. “I was just about to get to that, but we,” She gestured to Gerard’s mother sitting next to him, “I-, we, think that you need to move to Alberta. Even if it’s just for a year or two, I think it will be good for you.” 

Huh? What the fuck? Alberta? Gerard tries desperately to process this information, whilst he kind of just stares at Becca with his mouth hanging slightly open. Is this a joke?  

He repeated what he had just said in his head out loud. “You’re joking, right?” He let out a nervous giggle. He was not moving away from his town, not after he had finally started making friends, and was starting to become more than just the gay emo loser that his peers at school decided to view him as. He had a lovely house, a lovely family, funny friends, he had his room, his absolute favourite place on earth. He would have to be insane to let himself go to Alberta after all of that.  

His mother speaks up quietly from beside him. “No, sweetheart. I’m being serious.” 

He whirled to look her in the eyes, distrust flooding his features. “Seriously? You know how long it’s taken me to finally find my place at home, and now you’re stripping me of it?”  

He turned back to face Becca, fuming. “I have spent years trying to make friends, trying to stop being treated like a fucking piece of shit at school, and the second my life seems to be finally looking up, you want to throw it all away because of some stupid suicide attempt that I don’t even remember!” He was breathing heavily from his nose, his headache throbbing behind his eyes and he immediately regretted his decision to stand up and shout in Becca’s face.  

He’s not usually the kind of guy to yell in the faces of adults who are ultimately trying to help him, but honestly- he didn’t give a shit anymore. This whole situation was so fucking crazy and stupid and now he’s been told he’s got to uproot his entire life.  

He could feel tears welling in his eyes as his mother grabbed his elbow and pulled him to sit back down on the couch.  

“Gerard! If you would sit down and listen to our reasoning, then maybe you would understand.” His mother said, refusing to meet his eyes. “We aren’t uprooting your life for no reason. You’ve gone through a seriously traumatic event. I just think going back will put you in the wrong mindset.” 

Becca nodded attentively. “I get you might be upset. The reason we are suggesting Alberta, and specifically a small country town there, is because you will have access to special facilities to help with your physical therapy.” 

Gerard cocked his head to the side slightly. “What do I need physical therapy for? I told you, I’m fine.” He snapped. 

Becca sighed and clutched the journal she was holding in her hands tighter to her chest. “You sustained serious damage to your wrists. You just missed a major artery, but you didn’t spare a few of your very important tendons.” She blew out a breath and the same smile from earlier appeared on her face. “With the help of physical therapy, you’ll be able to regain full mobility of your hands. I don’t know if you’ve realised, but you have very little range of your wrists.” 

Huh. Gerard hadn’t even thought about it, in all honesty, but now, trying to move his wrists, despite being still drugged up on pain killers, he found that any small movement he tried to make through his wrists brought a stabbing pain, and he could barely bend them. So. Maybe he did need physical therapy. Whatever.

“Still though,” Gerard questioned, staring at Becca. “Why do I have to go to Alberta? Isn’t there some place in New Jersey where I can go for physical therapy?” 

Becca’s eyes shifted slightly. “Well, there’s a specific hospital there that specialises in cases like yours. Plus, I’m sure the country air will be really good for you. It’s a nice town, everyone is really lovely.” 

Gerard narrowed his eyes, still not willing to give in to this happy-go-lucky-country-rehabilitation thing that his mother seemed to be sold on.  

“No.”  

His mother made a frustrated noise. “Gerard, as much as I hate to say this, this is not up for discussion.”  

“Yes it very much is, it’s my life.” He huffed. 

“Just, please at least give it a try.” His mother pleaded, looking from him to Becca on the other side of the room. “Just for 6 months, and if you hate it, we can leave. Okay?” 

Six months in some random country town in the middle of fuck-nowhere Alberta. Could it be any worse? Whatever, he could get through six months, he’s not that useless.

He rolls his eyes one last time before reluctantly admitting defeat. “Whatever. Can I just not end up going to some stupid school with a bunch of idiots again?” 

Becca smiled. “I think we can arrange that.” 

 

☆ 

 

Gerard’s mother agreed to let him go home one last time to say goodbye to his room before they left for Alberta. Not before revealing that she had already moved all of the stuff from their house to the new house, much to Gerard’s annoyance.  

Walking through the door to the aged brick house he had expected to feel something, maybe some sort of sadness pulling at his heart or maybe a bit of anger that he had to leave, but he strangely felt nothing. Like this was just a normal Tuesday for him, packing up and leaving the only house he had ever known. He supposed that this was because everything else he had experienced in the past two-ish days was probably more wild in comparison.  

Looking around at his childhood bedroom, seeing the walls bare felt like he had slipped into an alternate dimension, one that he wasn’t meant to see. The only indication that it had ever been covered in band posters and photographs and stupid drawings were the ghosts of chips of paint in the walls that appeared sporadically around the room. Even the bed was gone, the room nothing but four walls, a window, and slightly stained cream carpet. No more photographs of him and his new friends lining the walls, no more wooden desk where all his art supplies lived taking up a sizeable portion of the already small room, and no more bed where he had laid many-a-night staring at the ceiling, wishing that he would finally be able to make friends. And now, after almost his entire life alone, wandering the school halls by himself and trying to convince himself it was better off that way, he had finally found people who actually tolerated his presence. Sure, his ‘friend group’ (if you could even call it that, it was him and two others) were probably not the perfect friends, -far from it- but they were his friends. As half-arsed as their effort into the friendship was. 

Now he was going to have to walk away from them, most likely forever. He didn’t know much about friendships, but he knew that after the six months had passed they would have moved on, forgotten about him, and probably found someone more interesting to hang out with. That short window where he would be able to cement himself as someone important, someone needed in the group would more or less pass. Sure, them keeping in touch would be nice, but it was a lot of effort to pick up the phone every few days, and he could already tell they would not be doing that, if their subdued reactions to him breaking the news over the crappy landline that he was moving was any indicator. He didn’t take it personally, he wouldn’t want to be friends with himself either.  

Whatever, he had been alone for the past 17-ish years anyways, what was 6 months more? That was child’s play.  

When he walked out of the front door for the final time, he turned to see that the car was already packed, his mother in the drivers seat holding up a very aged map, and his younger brother in the backseat, playing on his Nintendo DS. He hadn’t even considered what he would be making of this situation, despite seeing him for brief moment while in hospital. Mostly, he had just looked really uncomfortable about being in a hospital near a bunch of needles. If anyone was going to be scared of needles, it would be Gerard, he didn't need Mikey coming for his brand.

He rounded the side of the red Honda, opening the backseat and climbing into his seat, fussing with the excessive amount of pillows his mother had shoved in the back for him to sleep on. 

“Seriously, did you need to put this many pillows back here? It’s not like I'm gonna fuckin’ break when the car starts moving, jeez.” He said, craning his neck back slightly so he could see out the window. 

His mother completely ignored his question and turned her head from her map finally. “Seatbelts on, kids?”  

Mikey murmured something which sounded like a yes but could really be anything, and Gerard nodded his head slightly. 

“Perfect.” She said, slowly reversing the car out of the driveway. “Say goodbye to our lovely house, but don’t be upset. A lovelier one awaits you!” 

Gerard resisted the urge to roll his eyes and fished his iPod out of the front seat pocket in front of him. 

They drove for days, stopping at nighttime in random shitty motels, and throughout it all, while gazing out the window at the unchanging scenery to the dirty walls of the motels, he expected to feel something more. Scared? Excited? Yet he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything. Which was not only incredibly unlike him, but scary too. Who is he, if he’s not constantly complaining about something, or laughing uncontrollably, or crying? His entire life, he’s been a walking bundle of extreme mood swings. 

He hated the way his family looked at him, like he was fragile, -something easily broken- and unstable. His brother kept nudging him with his foot, and trying to catch his gaze, eyes concerned around the edges and soft. Every time, Gerard would roll his eyes and turn away. He supposed that Mikey was concerned for him, -from his perspective, he had tried committing suicide- but he was frustrated because he knew that wasn’t the truth. Call him crazy, but there was something inside him that was just not buying it. Although, what other explanation could there be? That was the point that his brother would bring up when he tried defending himself, and he couldn’t do anything else but slip into a frustrated silence.  

Finally, after three days of driving, his iPod was finally able to catch a break when they finally arrived in the new town. For miles before they got there, there was nothing but thick forest, and zero cars passed them on the highway. Gerard was seriously starting to consider that the town didn’t even exist and that he was dreaming again.  

But finally, they found the well concealed exit- so well concealed his mother nearly missed it- and drove down the patchy, gravelly road towards the entrance to the town. It was another 5 minutes of driving down the stupidly narrow road before they came across a giant sign. It was held up by two poles anchored into the ground, but one of them was bent as if someone had run into them, and the sign itself was a pale white, with flowery letters spelling “Welcome to Dawesbury.”

Driving past the sign, the town came into view. Gerard had been expecting some rundown, deserted ghost town like from a western movie, but instead, it actually looked quaint. Driving down the main street, which cut through the centre of the town, they passed a gigantic river, which also seemed to snake through the entirety of the town. The riverbank was covered with soft green grass and small daisies that had somehow survived the recently passed summer, and the water looked clear and surprisingly clean. Continuing down the main street, he could see where the road split in two, and the left way split off into a few smaller side streets and was covered with quaint looking houses. The other side of the main street seemed to be lined with shopfronts, which then gave way to a gigantic cobblestone bridge that crossed the river, and the road continued beyond, past where he could see. The streets were lined with birch trees, their leaves stained beautiful reds and oranges in the early weeks of autumn.  

It was, admittedly, more beautiful than he was expecting. 

Their car continued down the street and then took a left, and Gerard gazed out the window at the houses along the street. Most of them were two story, built of brick, with thick ivy growing along the walls, and had large arching windows covering the front.  

They finally ended up at the very end of the main street, surprisingly close to the edge of the woods, and at the end of the cul de sac sat a large house which Gerard guessed was theirs. It was tall, two storied, with pointed roofs sloping upwards, a red brick chimney peeking out from the grey shingles. There was a quaint wrap around porch, with wooden steps leading up towards it from the ground, where there was a double-door garage on the very bottom floor, which he could already see had some moving boxes inside it. 

The house was certainly outdated by a couple decades, but it seemed charming enough.  

His mother parked the car in the driveway, just outside where the double doors of the garage remained shut.

“Alright everyone, we are here!” His mother beamed, slipping off her seatbelt and cranking open the creaky side door of the car.  

Gerard took a breath resignedly and tore his earbuds out of his ears, beginning his fight with the mountain of pillows surrounding him. Seriously, this was overkill. Where did his mother even get all of these? He wasn’t sure they even owned this many pillows beforehand. 

By the time that they had lugged all their stuff onto the undercover porch, Gerard was ready for another nap.  

His mother tried the rickety doorhandle, but it didn’t budge. Mikey and Gerard both just stared at her. “Uhm... Try a key maybe?” Mikey suggested, letting go of the handle of one of his suitcases. 

Their mother blinked. “Oh, of course. Sorry, all that driving really messed with me.” She patted her coat pockets frantically, before retrieving a large brass key, with floral engravings in the shape of a clover on the head, worn with age.  

“Seriously, when was this house built? The Middle Ages?” Gerard asked, rolling his eyes. He was already over the ridiculous cliche of this place.  

His mother shot him an agitated glance as she stepped inside. “Let’s focus on the positives here, please. Welcome to our new house for the next little bit!” She threw her arms up ridiculously, like a ringleader introducing its pathetic little circus. 

As Gerard stepped inside, he felt like he had just stepped into a refrigerator.  Seriously, this place was cold. And dark, too. There was afternoon light streaming in from a window in another room, but the corridor he was standing in, -in front of the staircase- was completely submerged in darkness. There was a thick sensation of dust floating through the air, and he fought the urge to sneeze. 

“Come along, kids.” His mother beckoned to him and his brother, motioning for them to follow her where she was already moving down the hallway past the gigantic staircase. They shuffled awkwardly, still carrying their bags, and Gerard nearly bumped a picture frame that was on the wall off with his shoulder. 

Startled, he looked up towards the almost-victim of his shoulder, locking eyes with a young man in the photo frame. He looked 18 at most, the black and white nature of the photo concealing the true colour of his hair- but if he had to guess, it was probably brown. He looked mellow, his expression soft and his pose was casual, leaning on what looked like a wooden desk. However, there was something in his eyes that seemed off, and as Gerard squinted his eyes against the darkness to look closer, he felt a strange sensation wash over his body, white-hot, strangely painful and startlingly familiar. Goosebumps erupted across his entire body, and he felt Mikey nudge him.  

“Did the people who lived here last forget to take down their photos or something?” Gerard asked, shaking his head and looking away, trying to forget the feeling that had just washed over him for his own sake. He was seriously tired of weird shit happening to him.  

The end of the hallway opened up to a large, but quaint kitchen, aged the same way the rest of the house was. The wooden cupboards were painted a soft sage green, and the countertops were a similar colour, but annoyingly, not the same shade. There was a window above the sink, that looked out across what he presumed was the back garden, -although there was no telling where the ‘backyard’ ended and the forest began. 

His mother had begun placing her multitude of bags on the dining table, and that's when Gerard realised that in the corner of the room, there was a bunch of moving boxes stacked, some of them opened and some still sealed.  

“I have no idea, honey.” His mother said, pulling him back into the present. “We should just be grateful we were able to get this place. The previous tenants really didn’t want to give it up, for whatever reason.” 

“What, you had to fight someone for this old place or something?” Mikey asked, a teasing edge to his voice, which came from somewhere behind Gerard. 

Their mom just sighed and shook her head. 

“Right.” Gerard said, eyes already distracted and wandering around the room. “Hey, where’s my room?” 

His mother looked up from where she was fussing with a moving box, a smile on her face. “Of course, I forgot to show you. Come with me sweetie. Mikey, you wait here, your room is on the bottom floor.” 

Mikey grumbled something along the lines of ‘ how unfair’ and Gerard stuck his tongue out at him as he followed his mother up the stairs and towards the second floor of the house. The stairs were old, and severely creaky, with a plush but dusty velvet stair runner that did nothing to hide the groaning of the wood beneath their feet. As they reached the top, the last stair squeaked incredibly loudly, enough that Gerard jumped and nearly lost his footing. 

Upstairs was impossibly colder than downstairs, but significantly brighter. The staircase ended at the bottom of another hallway, this one with several doors opening on either sides. Down the very end, it seemed there were more stairs, that sloped up and then sharply left, and out of sight. He made a mental note to explore that later, -but right now he was seriously tired, and as the sun was just starting to set, he wanted nothing but to crawl into his new, hopefully comfy bed.  

They took the first right down the hallway, and the large wooden door creaked open to reveal what would be Gerard’s new room for however long. The room was gigantic, -he was seriously starting to wonder how the hell their mom was able to afford this- and had a giant window that opened up to a tiny balcony. Adjacent to the window was his bed, a basic looking aged bedframe with some scraggly black blankets sitting atop the mattress, accented by a plethora of pillows. There was a desk in the corner, and apart from a small, sad-looking carpet sat covering the wooden floorboards in the centre of the room, it was quite empty. 

Gerard was already imagining how he would decorate in here, his band posters would cover the wall space above his desk, he would have more than enough for his paints and sketchbooks, and he might even have enough room in the corner for a cage for the hamster he’s been wanting to get for years.

It was amazing. Although nothing would ever top his old room, he thought this might be able to come pretty damn close.  

“What do you think?” His mother asked, looking at Gerard nervously, hands on her hips.  

He turned back to his mother with what was the first genuine smile he’d had since he woke up, and promptly hugged her. 

“It looks amazing, thanks Mom.” He said, face pressed into his mother’s greying hair. 

His mom laughed and let him go. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. Now, I have a lot of unpacking to do this afternoon, do you mind if I leave you here alone for a while?” 

Gerard rolled his eyes but still kept his smile on his face. “I’ll be alright, mom, seriously. You need to stop treating me like I’m going to do something crazy at any moment. I’m okay.” 

His mother’s eyes creased slightly, like there was an ongoing conflict in her head, but she nodded and stepped backwards out of the room. “Okay. I’ll be just downstairs if you need me at any time.” 

With one last nod, the door was closed, and Gerard could hear the obnoxious squeaking of the staircase slowly fade away. 

Gerard spent the rest of the afternoon and evening bringing up boxes of his stuff from the garage, (While of course employing Mikey to do all the carrying, no, he was totally not using the sympathy he was garnering from his not-suicide-suicide attempt to his advantage.) and unpacking all of his art supplies, room decoration from his previous house, and his clothes. When he was vaguely satisfied with his work, -he still had a few boxes to go- he collapsed onto his bed on his back, arms and legs splayed, facing up towards the ceiling. He let out a tired, low breath, feeling his chest deflate all the way before drawing in a long, cold inhale. The coldness in the air had been persistent ever since he arrived, but now that the sun had set and the moon had taken purchase hidden behind a thick grey blanket of clouds, it was even more prominent.  

Maybe a hot shower would warm him up? 

He hadn’t yet had a chance to go and check out the small bathroom that was attached to his bedroom, yet another fancy feature of this stupidly big house. When he had questioned his mom on how she was able to afford a place like this, she had rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly and mumbled something about a mental health grant, which, once again, had pissed off Gerard. He was not fucking mentally ill, and didn’t need his family using him as a scapegoat for their stupidly old and big house.  

He pulled himself up of the bed, wincing as he bent his wrists slightly, as they were still incredibly sore and the stitches weren’t due out for another week or so. Padding across the freezing floorboards, he opened the creaky door to the bathroom and peered inside. 

It was about as dated looking as the rest of the house, with some hideous floral tiles lining the floor and walls, a sad looking shower in the corner with a curtain that definitely looked mouldy, -maybe no shower just yet then- and a toilet and sink. Above the sink though, was what caught his attention. It was a gorgeous baroque style oval-shaped mirror, with intricate carvings in the wooden frame, and it was covered in a layer of dust, making his reflection look fuzzy. It was definitely at least 50 years old, and he distantly wondered how many people had gazed into it the same way he was doing right now. 

There was a skylight in the bathroom, nestled in the impossibly high ceiling of the bathroom, -it was quite ridiculous, why did you need to have a 10-foot ceiling in a bathroom?- however due to it being nighttime and pitch black outside, there was no light streaming through it like he imagined would happen on a sunny day.  

He took one last look at the mirror, and as he walked out of the bathroom, closing the door softly and turning the light switch off, he felt goosebumps erupt on his body from the slight breeze that was snaking its way into the room through the window, which was slightly ajar. He trekked downstairs ready to have dinner and tried to fight off the chill by putting on another sweatshirt, making sure to tug the sleeves down over his bandaged wrists.  

It was hard to ignore the worried stares his mother and younger brother exchanged with each other during dinner, but he tried anyway. 

When he finally excused himself after pushing around the pile of flavourless boiled vegetables on his plate for half an hour, he headed straight to the bathroom, deciding that he didn’t care about the mouldy shower curtain any longer if it could get him away from his family.

It would be wrong of him to say that he had showered in the days since he left the hospital, despite how gross it may be- he had zero motivation. He had been wearing the same sweatshirt since he left the hospital, even to sleep, and he had grown strangely attached to it and couldn't bring himself to take it off- he would have to be face to face with his disgusting cut wrists if he did that. At least in the shower upstairs he could sing as loud as he wanted without his brother yelling at him to shut up like he had at their old house.  

Grabbing a towel, he flicked the bathroom light switch on and closed the door behind him. He pushed the ugly curtain back halfway, careful to ignore the bit with mould on it, the metal hooks screeching in protest as he reached blindly for the tap. Whilst he had his arm hidden from his sight fumbling for the tap, he turned to face towards the sink, his fuzzy reflection meeting his gaze. Gerard latched onto the hot tap and immediately recoiled as he touched what felt like molten lava, as if someone had left the shower running at max temperature for an hour. Screeching, he ripped his hand from behind the curtain and clutched at his hand, staring in disbelief at the giant, faucet-shaped red welt that was forming on his palm. 

A mix between a sob and a shriek erupted from his body, and he stared at his hand in horror for a moment before lurching towards the sink, shoving his hand under a stream of freezing water. 

What the fuck? Why was the tap boiling hot? To his knowledge, no one had been in the bathroom, -the tub looked dry at least- how was he just burned by touching the faucet head?  

Panic was starting to build in his body as he glanced over his shoulder back at the shower, expecting to see... something. He had no idea what he thought was going to be there, and to no surprise- it looked normal. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed in concern and a bit of pain.  

Compared to the pain he felt on the daily because of his wrists, this was nothing. It was more... confusing. He was never one to jump to conclusions, but he was seriously freaked out. After running his hand under the cold water for one agonizing minute, his heart racing a million miles an hour, he reluctantly took his hand out from under the tap and took the three steps towards the shower until he was standing in front of the curtain, hands trembling slightly. 

With his unburned hand, he moved the entire curtain back so he could see the temperature handles of the showerhead. They looked as expected, one for hot, and one for cold, the metal shiny in the light coming from the lamp hanging from the ceiling. Incredibly hesitantly, he slowly reached out with his fingertips towards the hot tap, gasping as he touched it and it felt cold, the same temperature as everything else in the bathroom.  

He couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than the tap still being hot.  

This was fucking ridiculous. He was so over weird stuff happening. Could he not just enjoy a shower in peace out without some evil hot temperature changing tap? He knew, rationally, there probably had to be some sort of explanation for it, maybe faulty plumbing that caused a build-up of hot water behind the tap which led to it being hot enough to burn. 

But then, he glanced down at his palm and was horrified to see that the burn mark was completely gone, and his rational thinking was flung out the window. 

Now that was just not right.  

He felt the familiar sensation of goosebumps crawling across his body, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. It was the pure, overwhelming sense of confusion and fear.  

He snapped back out of his head, and took a deep, shaky breath before steeling himself in the mirror. This was fucking ridiculous, and he did not have the energy to deal with this today. He was probably having some sort of insomnia induced hallucination or something, and he desperately needed to go to sleep. He could deal with weird ass coincidences tomorrow.  

No shower for him, then. 

He flicked the light switch off and stumbled out of the bathroom, collapsing onto the bed, not even bothering to take his medicine or change his bandages before falling asleep. He could deal with the nurses at the hospital yelling at him later.  

The room was completely silent, and freezing as usual, bar the sound of a tree branch scratching at his window from the wind blowing it side to side. It was this sound that slowly lulled him into an exhausted slumber, and he dreamed of ghosts and someone watching him from outside his window.  

Notes:

Thankyou for reading! Any comments on your thoughts of this first official chapter would be appreciated!

Chapter 3: Learning Is For Losers

Notes:

TW: Use of the F slur a couple times. Please read with caution!!

He was rudely awoken the next morning by his mother shaking his shoulder gently. Light was streaming into his room through the window, the sun playing hide and seek in between the clouds. He felt himself groan and lift his head towards his mother, blinking twice in an effort to clean the tiredness from his eyes, as a result of his fitful and unrestful sleep the night before.  

“Sweetie, you need to get up, or you’re going to be late.” She was saying, glancing around the room. 

Gerard’s head swam. Late for... what? 

He voiced this thought out loud and his mother looked at him pitifully, stroking his hair. “For school, darling. I told you that you were starting on the 10th, remember?” 

School. The absolute last thing on his mind at the moment, when all he wanted to do was sleep forever and never have to deal with the consequences of his actions and whether there was a ghost in his bathroom. Maybe he was onto something when he supposedly slit his own wrists.  

He groaned and sat up on his elbows. “I thought the 10th was next Monday. Can I just skip this week or something?” 

His mother shook her head softly. “You have to go, darling. It’s the first week back since summer break, so you won’t be the only new kid. If you skip this week, then you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. What happened to not wanting to draw attention to yourself?” She sat up off the edge of the bed and walked to the door, gripping the doorframe as she spoke. “I put your uniform on your desk, I need you dressed and ready by 7:30.” 

She left the room then, closing the door softly.  

Frustratedly, Gerard aggressively rubbed at his eyes, and swung his legs out of bed, stalking towards his desk where his new uniform was waiting. Apparently, when he told Becca he didn’t ‘want to go to a school with idiots’ she took that as: ‘send me to a prissy private boarding school.’ which was not his intention at all, but now he would have to deal with not only bullies, but rich and entitled bullies.  

The uniform was mostly harmless though, a white button up shirt paired with a dark brown tie decorated with what he assumed was the school’s emblem, a black blazer and matching pants.  

At this point he most definitely had to shower, and he could feel the grease on his head which was accumulating on his scalp, which meant that he couldn’t avoid the bathroom which had tormented him in his dreams last night.  

His head pounded uncomfortably, and his eye sockets felt like they had been hit in with a baseball bat, regretting not even getting under the covers when he had hopped into bed last night, which he guessed resulted in his terrible tossing and turning.  

He grabbed the uniform with one hand, wincing slightly at the dull thrum of pain in his wrists, and shifted the clothes so they were slung over his shoulder. He reached for a towel and trudged towards the bathroom. 

It looked a lot more friendly in the daylight, the skylight in the ceiling letting in a healthy dose of light, which was greyed by the thick cloud cover above, the milky light spilling over the room and revealing its age. In the light, he could also now see that not only was the shower curtain mouldy, but there were little dark spots all over the floor of the tub towards the back of the shower, which had been concealed by the darkness previously. 

He was seriously going to have to get someone in here to renovate this damn bathroom. 

The shower went relatively smooth, no scalding hot faucets or ghosts like he had been fearing, and as time passed and his memory became increasingly more fuzzy, he seriously started considering that he might have been hallucinating. The lack of burn marks on his hand supported this theory. Although, when was he ever one to believe the most logical answer? 

After getting out of the shower and drying himself off, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. 

It wasn’t like he had been avoiding his own reflection in his days since the hospital, he didn’t turn away from mirrors or shy away from catching his own eye in a reflective surface- but actually taking the time to look wasn’t something he had really done yet.  

He found that he didn’t look all that different to how he remembered in his head. Or so he had thought. Taking another second, he took in the dark purple crescent moons under his eyes, the overall paleness of his complexion, and the dark floppy hair on his head that had grown significantly, now long enough to tuck behind his ear, with the black box dye he had used a few months ago slowly washing away. 

Something else stuck out to him too, something that he might not have noticed if he hadn’t really been looking.

Right in the center of his chest, running down the line of his sternum, was a large raised pinkish mark, angered by the hot water of the shower, and sticking out like a sore thumb. His first instinct was to think that he might have accidentally scratched himself in his sleep and caused a rash to form, but he slowly realised, -with a hint of horror clawing at the back of his brain- that the mark was in the shape of a hand. As if someone had reached out to touch his chest, right in the center, and it had burnt a mark into his skin. It wasn’t a perfect outline, but he could count all five fingers, and he placed his own hand onto the outline to find that whoever’s hand it was, it was only slightly smaller than his own. 

He blinked at himself a few times in the mirror, and his brain felt like it had been turned into liquid, all of his thoughts slow as he tried piecing together why he had been branded with somebody’s hand. This was seriously fucked up, another freaky burn mark appearing on his body within 24 hours, and in this same bathroom again. Had it been here the whole time, or just this morning? It wasn’t like he had taken his shirt off since he woke up from the hospital though, and before the huge gap in his memory around the time of his not-suicide-suicide attempt, he was certain he didn’t have this mark on him. Which meant that at some point between him waking up in the hospital and right now, it appeared on his body. 

Another horrifying thought, was who’s hand was that? It wasn’t his own, he had just checked. The thought of someone touching him while he wasn’t aware of it freaked him the fuck out, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears, the amount of blood heading straight to his head making him slightly dizzy. Even then, how could someone just touching their hand to him cause a mark to appear? Especially one that was raised to the touch and red, the same appearance as the burn he had gotten on his hand last night from the freaky faucet. He had at least felt the heat from the tap with that one, and he could tell at the time it was going to leave a mark -disregarding the fact that it disappeared immediately after, that was something else to figure out later- but he had zero clue when or how this could have happened.

It was then that he decided that all weird things happening outside of the hours between 10 am and 5 pm were not allowed, and he would deal with them later, during business hours, and when his brain was actually functioning. Following this new rule he had just created, he tried to the best of his ability to ignore the glaring, literal mark on himself and continue getting ready for school. When he got to school, the only thing he would have to care about would be making a good impression, and worrying about his usually offensive appearance. That was normal. That was familiar. That would not involve him being violated and scared. Usually.

He got dressed in his new uniform, feeling personally wronged after he put on the white button up shirt, as it was offensively itchy and he hated the way that the seams on the shoulders sat on him, and he felt even more offended after trying on the blazer and looking akin to a cardboard box, before he used scissors to cut open the inside of the jacket to rip out the ridiculous shoulder pads.

On any other day, he probably would have ignored the glaring issue that was the way he looked and just walked to school, but something in him was calling for him to actually make an effort to try and fix up his roughened appearance. Maybe he wanted to make a good first impression on his first day at a new school. Either that, or he felt like this boy in the mirror wasn’t reflective of who he wanted to feel like. He wanted to still feel like the guy who still lived in New Jersey, the guy who hadn’t nearly died, and the guy who had friends for once. Not whoever this stranger was who was looking back at him through the mirror. No, he didn’t know who this guy was. He had to fix that. 

Opening the door to his bedroom, he rummaged through some of his still-unpacked boxes, throwing aside random trinkets and some old books he had read in primary school until he found what he was looking for. A slightly stained off-white makeup bag filled with what was probably-expired makeup that he hadn’t touched in years, that he had stolen off his mother years ago. He only used the stick eyeliner from the bag, and he hadn’t used it except when he was going to concerts or hanging at the skate park back in his old town, but it was while wearing the eyeliner in thick black rings around his eyes that he truly felt like himself. He could deal with being called a fag later, it’s not like it hadn’t happened before. This was something he had to do for himself.

Straightening up, he marched back to the bathroom and set down the bag on the sink, opening the zipper and rummaging around until he grabbed out the eyeliner. Pushing aside his stringy, still-wet black hair, he roughly applied it around his eyes, grunting in frustration when it slipped out of his weak grasp and managed to fall onto the ground. That was the thing that reminded him of the fact that he really did need the stupid physical therapy, his grip was pathetic and he could only bend his wrists in two directions- left and right, not up and down. He picked up the eyeliner and used his finger to smudge it out. Now he looked like a zombie again. Perfect. A zombie raccoon.  

On instinct, his eyes slipped down to his wrist to check the time on his watch. Of course, though, there was no watch. Just his wrist, bandage-less after the shower, now not hiding the angry red line through the centre, still bruised and ugly looking. His heart sank slightly as he remembered that he was going to have to go to school with bandaged wrists, like some sort of mental asylum patient.

This thought motivated him to go look through another one of his unopened boxes to try and see if he could find a watch or even some sort of ugly old woven bracelet to wear that could possibly cover the bandages. He managed to find an old rubber bracelet from a music festival, some ugly beaded bracelets he probably made when he was six, and an ancient watch that might have been his grandfather’s. It would have to do.

He reached for the bandages that were sitting on a shelf just above the desk, wrapping both of his wrists with only a slight bit of a struggle. After they were wrapped, he put on his random assortment of bracelets and pulled the sleeves of his blazer down, smiling slightly to himself when he saw that the bandages were not able to be seen. He had a moment of hesitation for a second, remembering that usually private schools had some sort of vendetta against jewellery, but then promptly deciding he didn’t care. 

He then reached for the necklace that he had accidentally also pulled out in his search for bracelets, finding that it was his grandmother’s old crucifix necklace that she had passed down to Gerard. It was silver and beautiful, the chain slightly rusted with age and the cross itself slightly worn down around the edges. It was familiar, and comforting, two things he definitely needed with him today. While Gerard was far from Christian, (Because where is God then, if he was real? Definitely not with him, that's for sure.) It was his mother’s, and even then, maybe he needed a bit of God’s luck on his side, not that he thought he would be any help. 

After packing his bag and taking one more look in the mirror, -practicing how he would smile at people today without coming off as menacing, he put on his shoes and walked down the stairs, flinching once again at the terrible creaking. 

His mother greeted him in the kitchen with a smile, wordlessly sliding a mug of coffee over to Gerard, who took it gratefully with both hands and had a sip, the warm feeling of the bitter liquid sliding down his throat spreading through his chest, warming him up from the inside out.  

“It’s cold today.” His mother said, not looking up from where she was frying some eggs over the stove. “You sure you’re going to be okay with walking? I wouldn’t want you to get frostbite before you even get to school.” 

Gerard grunted in what could be interpreted as a yes or a no, leaving his mother to turn around to look at him.  

“You need me to drop you off?” 

He grimaced. “Ew, no. I can walk.” Gerard took one last swig of his coffee before dumping it in the sink, and then turning back around when he remembered he actually had no idea where the school was. 

After his mother gave him slightly confusing rushed directions, he remerged from the house, this time with purpose. 

It was still really early in the morning, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, a thick blanket of fog having settled over the entire town, reducing his vision to just a few yards, and he could barely see the house next door. Still, he trudged down the street, his new black shoes squishing soggy autumn leaves that were weighed down with water droplets, the tip of his nose turning red from the cold chill in the air.

The longer he walked down the street, the more he wished he had just swallowed his pride and caught a ride with Mikey and his mom, because he was starting to lose feeling in his toes and he swore that the water droplets on his eyelashes were frozen already.

After coming to the fork in the road in the middle of the main street, Gerard tried to remember his mother’s directions, and although he couldn’t remember if she had said to go left or right, he chose right. Worst came to worst, he would get lost and then would have an excuse to not go to school. 

Passing through the middle of the town, he took note of the shops lining the road, taking interest in the small convenience store which he could see through the shop window which had a couple of comic book displays. He made a mental note to come back after school was finished to have a look, because then after his most likely uneventful and terrible day at school, he could have something fun to think about, and use to ignore the glaring mark in the middle of his conscience.

After what felt like 10 years of walking, he ended up on the other side of the town, over the cobblestone bridge -which most definitely was a hundred years old and looked like it might collapse at any second- and was trudging up a long gravel driveway that was lined with giant evergreen hedges, the frost blanketing them like a pale kiss. He was really hoping that this was the driveway to the school, and not some random rich person’s driveway. 

Thankfully, it turned out to not be some random rich person’s driveway, and miraculously he had found his way to his new school, even before the bell had gone. The hedges gave way, and the gigantic school building came into his view. It was like something out of a storybook, multiple floors of brick with crawling green ivy, grey roofing and countless windows, a large courtyard area directly in the middle of the building, enclosed by a large metal gate that was ajar, allowing for the countless streams of students to flow through.

It was overwhelming, and just as stupidly pretentious as he had imagined.

Trying not to draw any attention to himself, he navigated his way through the sea of private school kids, ignoring the way some of the taller-looking intimidating boys looked in his direction, immediately beginning to regret his decision to put eyeliner on this morning. Way to go Gerard, making yourself a target already. Did he seriously not learn anything from the past few years of bullying at his old school?

Whatever, he just needed to get through the day, and then get home, and then he could sit around and listen to music and draw and no one could bother him. Just him, himself and his thoughts. And maybe the ghost who was haunting his bathroom and apparently touching him in his sleep.

Somehow he managed to find his way to the main office, aided by some nice-looking girl who pointed him in the right direction when he asked, and who he had meant to thank but forgot to. Standing at the tall desk, he peered over it to see a lady typing away at a gigantic keyboard and large square monitor, chewing gum already at 7:50 in the morning and clearly uninterested with Gerard’s existence. 

He cleared his throat once, glancing around the room awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet slightly. The lady glanced up through her glasses, still chewing aggressively. 

“Can I help you, boy?” She said, annoyance plain in her voice.

“Uh, yeah actually.” Gerard said, taking his hands out of his pockets to fiddle with the straps on his bag. “It’s my first day here, and I-”

He was cut off by the sound of loud laughter entering the room, and heavy footsteps sounding behind him as he turned to glare at whoever it was that was being so loud this early in the morning. To his surprise, it was Mikey, with some short guy with a ridiculous looking fringe, who was staring at him as if Gerard’s little brother had hung the moon. Honestly though, it didn’t surprise Gerard that Mikey had made a friend in the five fucking minutes he had been at the school for, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a little pang of jealousy. Their whole life, Mikey had been popular, -Gerard had no idea how, he was about a dorky as you could get, -and moved through friendgroups at the speed of light, bringing home new friends after school weekly, and more recently, bringing home new girlfriends so frequently it gave Gerard whiplash from just watching. 

Mikey looked up from where he was smiling down at the boy to make eye contact with Gerard, who grimaced. 

“Gerard! Fancy seeing you here. Are you getting your timetable too? Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t freeze to death walking here today. You know, walking isn’t that cool-” Mikey was cut off by Gerard who was glaring daggers at him, and he pressed his lips into a thin line while rolling his eyes, approaching the desk with his most charming smile.

“Are you guys finished with the antics now? Do you want your timetables or not?” The desk lady asked, still not having looked up from her computer.

“Yes please, Ma’am. If you would be so kind.” Mikey said, flashing a grin, although to his dismay the lady did not return it, she only asked for their names so she could print them, before handing them to the brothers and telling them to kindly get the hell out of her office. 

Gerard took the timetable and was happy to oblige, turning on his heel to walk out the door before Mikey grabbed the back of his bag, yanking him backwards and nearly causing him to lose his balance.

“The fuck was that for?” Gerard asked, not trying to hide the anger in his voice. 

Mikey shrugged. “I wanted you to meet my new friend, Pete.” He gestured to the short boy, who was still standing on Mikey’s left, and he gave a small wave and about as polite a smile as he could manage. “He’s gonna show me around the school. I would invite you, but you're too old to hang out with us, sorry. Good luck with school though, Gee. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Bye!” And with that, Mikey and his new friend Pete left the office.

Gerard looked down at his timetable, happy to see that he had Art as one of his subjects, less happy to see that he had Geometry, and even less excited to see he had European History. Fuck history, honestly. It was in the past for a reason, why should he have to learn about that? 

His first class of the day however, was English, which was labeled as being in some room in the west wing, wherever that was. He couldn’t believe this school was seriously big enough to have wings, but when he had asked about the size of the school he had been told that more than half of the students here were boarding school students, which made sense why there were so many kids at a school in such a tiny town. Still though, it didn’t make sense to him why they had built a private boarding school in Dawesbury of all places, because seriously, this town was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and Gerard was sure that there should have been better options for people this rich. 

It look him 15 minutes to finally find his English classroom, and he knew that he was most definitely late by about 10 of those minutes, and so before stepping into the room he mentally prepared himself for the utmost embarrassment and social suicide that he was surely about to experience. 

Taking one step into the room, he immediately realised that the teacher was in the middle of speaking to the class, which meant he had to either awkwardly wait in the doorway for him to be finished, or he had to interrupt him. Both were not ideal. Secondly, he also immediately realised that unlike his old school where they all sat on separate tables, the desks were pushed together in groups of 5, and from his quick glance over the room he couldn’t see any free desks with no one sitting on them. Just his luck.

Several pairs of eyes noticed Gerard in the doorway, and there was an agonizing few seconds where they just stared at him while the teacher continued talking, before he followed the gaze of his distracted students to find Gerard standing there. He paused, hands still raised in the motion of animatedly explaining something, and he cleared his throat, his hands coming to cross over his chest.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed where they both just stared at each other, and the only sound present in the room was that of the clock in the corner, ticking slowly, amplifying in the quiet and into Gerard’s eardrums, resounding through his head like it was hollow.

“You gonna say anything, new kid? Or are you just going to stand there?” The teacher asked, still just looking at him.

Gerard’s heart immediately sank to his toes, and he could feel heat rushing to his ears. He could already tell this teacher did not appreciate his tardiness, and he had heard that tone from teachers enough to know that he wasn’t going to be let off the hook without being embarrassed in front of everyone. He coughed slightly, once again fiddling with the straps on his backpack. He was also slightly confused as to how he had been dubbed new kid considering it was the first day of the school year, and there were surely other people here that were just starting, too. He had also been hoping that due to it being the first day his teachers would be understanding of him getting lost, but it seemed that that was not the case for whatever reason.

“Uhm, I’m new to this class. And this school too I guess. Sorry for being late, I got lost.” Gerard said.

Someone in the back of the class laughed, but covered it up immediately with a cough. Gerard followed the sound with his eyes and narrowed them as they locked onto a boy sitting on a table at the back, his face in his elbow to shield it from his sight.

Gerard’s attention was drawn back to the teacher once again when he began speaking. “Right. And, may I ask your name? If you’re going to interrupt my lesson in such a fashion, we may as well get to know who the culprit is.” 

Gerard internally cringed for two reasons. One of course being the fact that he was going through what he swore was some sort of humiliation ritual, the second being the fact that that was such a corny thing to say. Culprit? Who did this guy think he was? A supervillain?

“Gerard.” He mumbled.

The teacher raised his eyebrows and Gerard fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What was that? Speak up so everyone in the class can hear.”

Gerard was so over this already, and the little bit of resolve and anxiety he originally had now gave way to nothing but annoyance. Annoyance at this stupid teacher, at that stupid boy who laughed at him, and at his life in general. This time Gerard did roll his eyes, which was admittedly probably a mistake, so he quickly tried to divert the teacher’s attention by saying, “Gerard. My name is Gerard. Is it really necessary for you to keep me standing up here? Can I sit down now?” He had zero idea where his audacity to sass the teacher came from, but it was worth it for the look on the teacher’s face though.

Without even waiting for the teacher to respond, Gerard decided to continue on with his confident persona, -which admittedly he had no idea where it had come from, he didn’t usually act like this, but maybe the eyeliner gave him superpowers- so he went and sat down in the nearest available chair, on the end of a clump of 5 desks, next to some boy with big curly hair who was staring boredly out the window. He heard the teacher mumble something about ‘the audacity of the younger generation,’ but he luckily didn’t try to fight Gerard over his antics. He also tried ignoring the murmurs of other students at the tables behind him, especially trying his hardest to ignore the two jocks who were commenting on his eyeliner.

The boy that he was sitting next to didn’t even acknowledge Gerard’s existence, and it was then that he realised that his eyes were actually closed and he was asleep, 10 minutes into the first class of the year. Gerard glanced up at the teacher, who had moved to be sitting at his desk in front of the class, and was confused to realise that he hadn’t even noticed the boy was already asleep. 

Fearing that he would have to endure the same humiliation as Gerard, he nudged the boy with his elbow in an attempt to wake him up, despite the teacher going on about the assignments for the semester without missing a beat. The boy however, didn’t even react, and Gerard elbowed him harder this time, drawing a grunt from the boy as he finally stirred awake, which earned glares from the other girls sitting on the table with them.

“The fuck?” The boy croaked loudly, his voice cracking slightly. Several people on the tables turned their heads to look at the two of them, and Gerard shushed him.

He rubbed his eyes once and then blinked, staring at Gerard with such a blank expression he thought that he might be looking right through him. Then, his eyes focused on his face and they narrowed, before opening again, and he smiled widely, showcasing his slightly crooked teeth. Unbelievably, Gerard swore his eyes were red around the outsides, and he couldn’t believe this guy was high already, at 8:00 AM.

“Yo, are you the new guy?” He asked, sitting up straight in his chair, having lowered his voice significantly from a moment before, goofily outstretching his hand for Gerard to shake. “I heard about you, man. Cool to meet you.”

“Uhh.”

Gerard stared at his hand for a second, before slowly reaching out to take it, and the boy grasped it tightly, shaking aggressively, still wearing his ridiculous smile on his face and causing Gerard to wince at the pain that was blooming in his wrists once again. The boy seemed to notice his grimace and he immediately let go.

“Oh shit, sorry. I heard about that too.” He looked apologetic.

Gerard balked. Heard about what?

“What the fuck do you mean you heard about me?” He whisper-shouted, panic rising in his gut and confusion gripping his chest. Had word already got out that he moved here because of some suicide attempt? While he was tired of defending his honour, he would have been honestly ready to just accept defeat and admit that he had done it, if it wasn’t for an incessant nagging in the back of his head that wouldn’t leave him alone. But how did the word get out? Was it his stupid therapist Becca, -who was the one who had gotten him a place at this school- who had to run her big mouth about his personal struggles in order for the principal to pity him enough to get him a spot here? Even then, how did any of the students know? How did this guy know?

If people knew, he was sure it would ruin almost all of his chances at making friends, and any possibility of trying to make the next six months slightly more bearable. Who was going to want to be friends with the stupid kid who had cut his wrists, especially in a place like this?

“Oh, yeah.” He turned back around from facing Gerard, now staring straight ahead at the teacher, who just moments before had been giving him a death glare. “My dad is the principal of this place, I kinda overheard it from him. Sorry if it's personal, man, just trying to be friendly.”

Gerard calmed slightly at that. It seemed like, hopefully at least-, it was just this guy and the staff who knew. For now.

“Right. Okay.” He said, turning back around to the front, pulling down the sleeves of the blazer over his wrists self consciously.

After 5-ish minutes of Gerard trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, he felt a nudge in his ribs from the guy sitting next to him again. He turned, expecting some sort of snide remark, but was pleasantly surprised to see that he had what looked like a genuine smile on his face.

“Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. You seem cool. Let me introduce myself, properly this time.” He swished his impressive mane of hair in Gerard’s direction, drawing a smile out of him. 

“My name’s Ray, I’m 18 years old, and if you didn’t already notice, I’m in your English class. I like guitar and skateboarding.” He raised an eyebrow in Gerard’s direction, waiting for him to do the same silly introduction. 

He glanced around the room discretely, before whispering, “I’m Gerard. Uh. I’m 17, and also, um, in your English class. I like drawing and listening to music?” 

Ray seemed to like his answer, and his smile grew bigger as he leant closer to him and asked, “What type of music, man? Your whole-” He raised a hand in front of Gerard and guestured to his face. “Look... tells me you probably know your stuff.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Gerard laughed quietly. “I don’t know, I’m into Misfits and Smashing Pumpkins, if you like them?”

Ray’s eyes widened. “Aw, I knew you would be cool! Dude, we totally need to be friends, I love them too.”

Gerard felt himself smile, and there was something small and warm blooming in his chest. Something like hope. Maybe he wouldn’t be damned to hell for the next 6 months like he had originally thought, if he could become friends with someone like Ray.

The rest of the lesson passed without Ray speaking to him again, and he had thought at first that he had already gotten tired of Gerard -not that he could blame him-, but it turns out he was asleep again. After waking Ray up for the second time, in which he was significantly more pissed off than the first time, Gerard asked him how he was allowed to get away with sleeping instead of taking notes.

“I’m the principal’s son, the teachers can’t really get mad at me ‘cause they know I’ll just bitch to my dad about it. Also I already repeated a year, what else are they gonna do? Make me do Grade 11 for a third time?” He paused, flicking a curl out of his face and looking out the window dreamily, and Gerard was once again reminded of the fact that he was most definitely on something. “Plus, who really cares about doing well in school? It’s meaningless, seeing as though one day we’re all gonna end up corpses in the ground, no thoughts and feelings. I don’t see the point.” 

Gerard didn’t have anything to say to that. 

By then, the class was over, and he looked down sadly at his timetable, realising he had biology next. He was not good at science, or maths, or english, or as it turned out- anything, really. Except art. Art he could do. But his stupidity in other classes also meant that he absolutely hated them, and he especially hated biology. Those pracs where they had to cut open dead animals always grossed him the fuck out. 

At least he wouldn’t be late this time, and as he sloppily packed his things into his bag, he was disheartened to find out that Ray was not in his Biology class, which meant he was going to have to speak to another person, again. Talking to one person was enough social interaction to last him a week, thank you very much. Although, talking to more people was pretty much guaranteed, since Ray had invited him to sit with his friends at lunch, and he couldn't tell how he felt about that. Of course, the prospect of not being alone was exciting, and maybe he would actually feel wanted for the first time in his life, something which he had spent enough years praying for- so he would be drinking up every last drop of attention he could get. On the other hand, though, he felt a swirl of anxiety in his stomach, threatening to sabotage his chances of friendship and trying to whisper into his ear that it would be easier to go find a place to sit alone. Alone was familiar. Alone did not give Gerard a chance to end up with a broken heart. 

As he was making his way out of the doorway, after having asked Ray for directions to bio, he felt himself be elbowed by someone walking past him. He whirled his head around, ready to glare daggers at whoever it was that shoved him, not willing to take anyone’s bullshit this time around. 

To his surprise, he realised it was the guy who had laughed at him earlier this morning, and he immediately decided he didn’t want to involve himself with this asshole. He could be the bigger person for once, and not engage. If he didn’t like Gerard, that was none of his business, even if he fought the urge to make up some snarky remark.

The boy looked up at him, -he was slightly shorter than Gerard- his big hazel eyes growing impossibly rounder as he realised who he had bumped into. His hair was dark, and curled delicately around his face, framing his angular jaw and perfectly shaped eyebrows. He was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful people Gerard had ever seen, not that he would ever admit that to anyone outloud. Gerard wasn’t really into romance, or anything of that nature -it wasn’t like he was ever even given an opportunity to consider it, girls didn’t talk to him- but he knew himself well enough from the countless hours he spent watching movies he rented out that he was into guys too. But would he ever voice that desire to anyone? Absolutely not, ‘cause that would just mean all his bullies who called him gay would be right and he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. Therefore, the light, fluttery feelings he felt when he saw a beautiful man was shoved into an iron box, wrapped in chains, bolted shut and shoved right into a dark corner of his mind, never to be opened or provoked by anything, or anyone. He had promised himself that. 

However, seeing this boy, he felt a jolt of something in his chest, a light, innocent feeling that unfortunately immediately gave way to nausea and goosebumps erupting all over his body the longer he looked at him. He didn’t look familiar, but something in his mind tugged at him, and he felt panic wash over himself at the strangeness of the feeling, like something just wasn’t right. It was like being dumped into a pool of freezing cold water, which was a jarring contrast to the heat that he could feel rising into his cheeks. The worst part was, the coldness was oddly familiar, and whatever familiarity this was, it was laced with something dark. Something horrible.

They had just been staring at each other for a few seconds, the boy still looking at Gerard, something unreadable crossing over his features, before he awkwardly cleared his throat and murmured a hushed apology, breaking eye contact and scurrying away down the hallway. 

He stepped out of the doorway, -he hadn’t even realised he had been blocking the way of the other students- and took a deep breath, trying to calm the weird sensations in his chest that were seriously freaking him the fuck out. He watched the guy walk down the hallway, and then immediately teared his eyes away and slapped himself for acting like a creep. 

He then realised that if he stayed standing here trying to catch up with his racing mind that he would be late for class again, and being embarrassed by one teacher today was more than enough already. He tried remembering Ray’s directions, and started walking in what he thought was the right direction, putting his cold hands on his cheeks to try and cool them down.

What the hell was that reaction just then? He felt like he was 12 years old all over again, looking into the eyes of someone attractive and freaking the fuck out. 

It was more than just that, though, that darkness he felt irked him in all the wrong ways. It felt familar yet jarringly terrifying. As he wandered the hallways with the masses of students moving between classrooms, he decided then and there that he needed to make an amendment to his previous rule.

Weird Things are only allowed to be dealt with between the hours of 10am - 5pm, and while he was not at school. 

He did not have enough energy to deal with more weird shit going on while he was at school, he thought he left that at home, back where he could freak out in the privacy of his own room, and if he really felt necessary, he could go crying to his younger brother like a child. 

It was final then. No thinking, or theorising about Weird Things while at school. 

He felt a tiny bit better, and as he finally rounded the corner of the hallway to the entrance to his biology classroom, he even felt a bit of triumph. He could totally take back control of his life like this, and God knows he needed too. He could take control over all these Weird Things by simply ignoring their cries for attention. He was the one in control. He called the shots on what was allowed to happen in his life.

Stepping into the classroom, he walked up to the teacher with a pep in his step, almost a 180 degree change from his mood just a few minutes ago, feeling both strangely confident and also social, weirdly enough.

He greeted the teacher, and had to let him know that despite being in Grade 11, he had dropped out of Biology and all sciences at his old school, so he was going to have to do double the work to catch up with the knowledge everyone else had. This was what the lady at the desk had told him to do after she had given him the timetable, much to his dismay. For some reason however, now, it felt as though it didn't even bother him, and he was almost proud -he was going to be doing double the work, that takes someone very dedicated- and as the teacher nodded at him and pointed at a table to sit at in the back of the classroom, he smiled. 

He walked over to the table, in his head already syncing himself up in his head to be super social and cool and talk with whoever it was that he was sitting with. What was that saying? Dress for the job you want? Well, he was going to use that, even if no jobs were involved, he was going to act like he was top shit, and then fake it till he made it. He was Gerard fucking Way. He was cool. He was funny. He was totally not socially awkward. He was definitely not mentally ill. He was-

His internal train of thought came to a stop so suddenly he physically felt like he was going to fall over in the middle of his Biology classroom.

The person he had to sit next to was the beautiful guy who bumped into him before, the one who gave him the fucking heebiejeebies. 

Just when he felt the slightest bit of optimism, he had to sit next to the guy who threw out all the control he could possibly have over his own life, the guy who’s existence freaked him the fuck out. Fuck, he hadn’t even spoken to the guy yet, and he was already spiralling.

The guy hadn’t noticed him approaching, he was involved in an animated conversation with some lanky brunette dude who was sitting on the other side of him, in the only remaining spot on the three-seater desk. Gerard took advantage of this, and quickly dumped his books onto the table, wrenching the seat out from under the bench and sitting down. It seemed that the boy and the guy he was talking to noticed him then, and the brunette looked at him before opening his mouth to speak.

“Yo, excuse you?” 

Gerard froze, before remembering there was still an opportunity to play the cool-guy card, even if he was slightly freaking the fuck out, and for some reason only just remembering that there was a reason he never spoke to people; He had no idea how.

“Uhm, hello to you too I guess?” He laughed slightly, trying to remember how to speak to people his own age. “Is that how you introduce yourself to everyone?”

The guy balked out a laugh. “Hah! Fair enough.” He offered a smirk to Gerard. “I’m Brendon. And you are?”

Gerard started at Brendon, taking note of the fact that the boy from earlier was pointedly ignoring Gerard’s existence, which like, what the fuck. Gerard was going to try and be nice, maybe put behind him the weird feelings from earlier and try to be civil, but if the guy wanted to have nothing to do with him then whatever. Maybe he could be friends with this Brendon guy, then? He didn’t seem like that much of an idiot.

“I’m Gerard. Who’s your little friend here?” He asked, nodding his head in the boy’s direction.

Brendon grabbed ahold of his shoulder, and laughed. “Oh this idiot? Yeah, his name’s Frank. Although you might have already heard that, he’s infamous here.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at the boy -Frank,- “Infamous… how?” He asked.

Brendon just laughed again. This dude was seriously jolly. Either that or he was mentally disturbed. “You’ll see, probably. Might just have something to do with the fact he’s got about 13 girlfriends! Hah! And, that he’s loud as fuck. Can’t complain though, I am too.”

Gerard pretended his heart didn’t sink slightly at the mention of Frank having a girlfriend. Multiple, apparently. Which was stupid, he didn’t like the guy like that, he didn’t even like him in any aspect, and he didn’t even know him. And hey, in his mind that counted as a Weird Thing -thinking about guys in that way was not allowed in his mind-, and Weird Things were not allowed at school.

“Right… okay.” Gerard said, turning to face the front of the classroom.

“You got a girlfriend?” Brendon asked, something evil dancing behind his eyes.

“Uh, no. I don’t.” Gerard answered, slightly anxious. He wasn’t an idiot. He could see where this was going.

“Righttt…” Brendon said, nodding to himself as if he had just had an epiphany of life. “You’re a dude-kisser, makes sense.”

Maybe Brendon was mentally disturbed. Either that or he was just an asshole.

Gerard tensed, and he turned to face Brendon, lips pressed into a tight line. “Is that any of your business, man?”

Brendon laughed. “No, I love your kind. You’re all so… fucking weird. Totally rad. Totally.” 

He smirked again. “Am I your type, Gerard?”

“Fuck off, dude.” Gerard murmured, already mentally removing himself from the conversation, not wanting to get pissed in the middle of Biology trying to defend his honour.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Brendon pouted, before yelping as Frank elbowed him in the ribs. 

“What the fuck, man! You’re always defending these weird ass-” He got cut off as Frank elbowed him again, this time harder. 

Gerard tried to catch his eye, maybe to smile a little bit at him to let him know he appreciated Frank cutting Brendon off, but he was pointedly not even looking in Gerard’s general direction.

The second Gerard turned around, Frank began talking to Brendon again, at an obscenely loud volume, and laughing obnoxiously. It was like the second that Gerard turned his focus elsewhere, he snapped out of his staring-into-the-distance silence, as if he was never there in the first place. Rude. Gerard was not the master of social interaction, but surely that was rude.

For the entirety of biology, Gerard did not speak another word to either Frank or Brendon, but the both of them seemed wrapped up in talking about something probably really funny that Gerard just had to sit there and listen to, not knowing how to contribute to the conversation, and feeling slightly like if he tried then he would be ignored, or laughed at. 

It was after the lesson had ended, after he had grabbed his books and was walking from the classroom that he could hear Brendon talking to Frank and some other skinny boy with a ridiculous haircut, and the minute he heard him say something along the lines of “That random fag who came and sat next to us and tried to-” he realised that his lack of faith in humanity was probably warranted, and he decided that he never wanted to speak to another human for as long as he lived, because they were all evil. Fuck trying to be sociable, and fuck this stupid school.

Next period was lunch, and after that he decided that he didn’t want to go and hang out with Ray and his friends. What if they were being nice as a joke? Or were actually just going to make fun of him like Brendon and that idiot Frank, who Gerard decided suddenly he fucking despised. 

He could go take his beautiful face and jump off a cliff or something.

Gerard spent the entirety of lunch in the library, which he miraculously found on his own, awkwardly eating his sandwich and trying to hide from the librarian, because he had heard a kid get yelled at for eating in the library just minutes before. He listened to music on his iPod and stared at his sandwich with disdain, pondering how his moods could change so dramatically so quickly. It felt like just this morning he had been through every possible emotion, and it was giving him mental whiplash. His wrists still hurt, -luckily no one had commented on them yet though, except for Ray,- he had a headache, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to ignore the thoughts about Weird Things, the implications of everything he had experienced clawing at the edges of his mind, begging him to pay attention. 

After lunch was finished, he went to his second last class of the day, which was Art. He thought he had never felt so relieved to step foot into a classroom in his life, and it only got better when he found out that there were only 5 other students in the class. 

He took a seat at the back, and doodled random drawings in his sketchbook for the whole time the teacher was talking, and decided he had been through enough today and didn’t do the still life that the teacher had suggested. Luckily for Gerard, the teacher was so elderly that getting up from her desk at the front of the room looked painful, so she didn’t come and interrogate him on his slightly-disturbing drawings like his old art teacher from Jersey had done.

After Art, the rest of the day passed agonisingly slowly in his last class of the day, which was Geometry. Thankfully, he sat alone and no one bothered him about his work, and he pretended to look like he was actually listening to what the teacher was saying. 

His mind, against his will, kept replaying the moment with Frank in the doorway. It was almost like he could still feel the wave of coolness, the goosebumps sprouting on his skin, the curve of his mouth and the- 

He shook his head. This was stupid. 

So. Fucking. Stupid.

When the bell finally rang, he practically leaped from his seat, gathering his things and almost sprinting out of the door. He managed to find his way to the courtyard, and was about to cross through the iron gate when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. 

It was Brendon again, flanked by Frank on one side, and the skinny boy from earlier, like something from a cliche highschool film, and heading straight towards Gerard. 

He took great care to look the other way, and quickened his pace. 

He was walking down the steps to the driveway when he heard someone call his name. 

“Hey, Gerard!” It was Brendon. 

Fuck this. 

He kept walking.

“Yo, we just wanna talk! Don’t look so damn scared. You’re not scared of us, right?” Brendon called after him. Gerard made the stupid decision to look back at him.

Brendon pouted mockingly. “I thought I was being nice in bio, today. Wasn’t I, Frankie?” He nudged Frank with his elbow, who rolled his eyes. 

Gerard took notice once again that Frank was very pointedly ignoring eye contact with him. So that’s what this was. Brendon and Frank and that other little twig were upset because they thought he was some gay freak, and they didn’t like that at this school. Big deal.

“Yeah, whatever.” Gerard said, turning back around again, and hurrying down the stairs, leaving Brendon and his minions standing on the top of the steps.

“We’ll pick this back up tomorrow, dude, don’t think I’ll forget!”

 

 

That night when he got back home finally, after spending hours at the store looking through comic books, he collapsed onto his bed, all of the lamps off in his room, the only light being the moonlight shining through the open window. It was cold, as usual, and he could see his breath making little clouds above his head, his fingers and toes becoming pleasantly numb. It was enough to dull down the incessant and invasive racing thoughts bouncing through his mind, trying to process everything that had happened that day. 

His mind really took a liking to Frank’s face, much to his horror and dismay. It was almost like his brain had taken a screenshot as Frank was looking up at him, all big doe eyes and perfect features. He flipped the image around in his head, and as he listened to the sound of a tree branch scratching against the window from the wind, he was lulled into a light sleep, completely forgetting all about the mark on his chest, the ghost in his bathroom, and that asshole Brendon as his thoughts morphed into a dream of soft lips and dark hair curling around a cheekbone.

For once, his dreams were peaceful.

Notes:

Thankyou for reading!!! Any feedback, theories, or advice is apreciated! New chapter coming sometime within the next week, hopefully.

Chapter 4: What's His Deal?

Notes:

Sorry it took me so long to update, I wrote half of this and then my computer nearly exploded and caught fire so I had to finish the rest on my phone which is super slow and about a hundred years old. This also means I wont be able to write until my computer is fixed, so sorry if this is the last update for a little bit, I promise I will be back, bare with me! anyways, hope u enjoy !

 

It turns out that not only was Brendon an asshole, he was also a liar. 

It was already 11AM the next day at school and Gerard had yet to even hear his name, let alone for him to come up to him for the ‘chat’ that they didn’t finish yesterday. 

Gerard would also be a liar if he said he didn’t feel incredibly relieved, but also slightly suspicious.

He had struggled through the morning at school, managing to shrink onto the back desks in all of his classrooms, trying not to draw any attention to himself. It wasn’t that bad, really, when he kept to himself, the solitude was comforting and familiar, plus, his classes weren’t that bad. Art was fun, and Geometry wasn’t that difficult. It was when he saw English on his timetable however, that something started clutching at his stomach, something filled with dread, and maybe a bit of nerves. He was partly afraid of facing Ray, if he even still allowed Gerard to sit next to him, after he basically ghosted his offer to sit with him at lunch yesterday. And, yes, a little thought in the back of his head -it was barely a thought, more like a picture or an idea floating through his head- pestered him about Frank, despite knowing that logically, the two of them had next to no reason to interact with each other. He still hadn’t decided how he felt about him yet, and that was another thing that scared him badly. Not knowing made him feel akin to being locked up in a maximum security prison sentenced to life with no parole. Although, unfortunately he felt like that most of the time already, being stuck in this stupid town. 

Once his Geometry class had finished, he got up to resignedly trudge to English when his teacher stopped him on his way out of the door.

“Gerard?” She asked, hand on his shoulder. “I just wanted to speak to you for a moment, if that’s okay?” Her eyes looked kind but he could sense a slight bit of concern behind them, muddled with something else he couldn’t decipher. He wished Mikey was here. Mikey was good at figuring people out.

“Uhm.” He hesitated, not really in the mood for a chat with a teacher, despite Mrs. Alle seeming harmless. “Sure… But aren’t I going to be late for my next class?”

She smiled tightly. “It’s alright. I can give you a note. Now, if it’s okay with you, could we sit down?”

That surprised Gerard slightly, he had been expecting a quick chat while they were standing up, about his work or something, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly offended that she was sitting him down for a talk about his work on only his second day. Surely he hadn’t fucked anything up already? He couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous, and he was unpleasantly reminded of his chats with Becca at the hospital, which reminded him, he had his physiotherapy and psych therapy appointments tomorrow. Fucking great. 

He nodded slowly as she pulled out two chairs at a random desk next to the door, so that they were facing each other. 

“Have a seat.” She said.

He cautiously sat down, and Mrs. Alle must have caught it in his eyes because she smiled, bigger this time. “I’m not here to get you in trouble, Gerard. I just wanted to let you know I was informed of what happened to you and that I’m here to support you.”

Gerard inwardly rolled his eyes, biting back a snarky remark. He knew it was rude to be annoyed, this poor lady was obviously trying her best to be there for her students. He knew that. He also knew that he was a piece of shit. 

He was just so fucking sick of everyone knowing, the way after finding out their eyes turned from seeing him as just another kid, to something that was fragile, something broken and something that needed to be pitied. He wasn’t any of those fucking things. He was certainly not broken. A little shaken up? Yes. Mentally ill and needing to be taken care of and be looked at with pity? Absolutely fucking not. He got enough of it at home, but now people at school knowing? That might have been fucking worse. The teachers knew, obviously the principal knew, and Ray knew. Soon enough, it would probably travel around the whole school and everyone would know him as the kid that tried to kill himself. And failed. That was even more terrible. He didn’t need to give Brendon any more material to use against him.

“Right. Thanks Miss. But I don’t really need any support, I’m fine.” He said, not meeting her eyes.

“You know, the only reason–, well, not the only reason but, the only reason I'm saying this is because I had a son who attempted.” Mrs. Alle continued, at that point Gerard looked up. Now he definitely felt like a piece of shit. He hadn’t attempted suicide at all, and now he was getting second-hand empathy from a lady who’s son had actually tried. Wasn’t that fucking grim?

“I didnt–.” He started.

“I just know how it feels to be someone witnessing what you went through. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not here to pity you, but I'm here if you want to talk. I get that having people feeling bad and as a result treating you like you’re crazy and might snap again at any moment wouldn’t be what you want, so I won't do that.” She smiled softly and reached out to pat his arm.

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, or you just need someone to listen while you talk, I’m your person. I may not be hip like you youngsters, but I’m willing to support our youth to thrive. And you seem like a nice boy Gerard, you deserve to feel heard.” 

It was stupid, but Gerard actually felt like she was being genuine, and she was the first person to acknowledge how he felt, and she didn’t even know him at all. Not even his own family, who he had known all his life had the foresight that maybe Gerard didn’t want them to coddle him, even though he had been repeating over and over again. He decided that he liked her. It was easy to be distrustworthy, but honestly, it was frustrating and exhausting being paranoid of other people all the time. And yes, it was embarrassing that the only person who had the basic decency to respect his wishes was a woman in her forties, but when was Gerard ever good at making friends with people his age?

He smiled slightly. “Thanks Miss. Genuinely. You’re kinda like… the first person to not pity me, so uh. Yeah.” He awkwardly fiddled with his sleeves, pulling them down over his wrists again with his fingers. It was already becoming a nervous tic.

“Of course. My staffroom is just down the hall, and always open if you want to talk. I’m here everyday except for Friday.” She then began standing up. “I’ll write you that note now.”

She got up and walked to her desk, where she scribbled something on a piece of paper before handing it to Gerard, and he had a genuine smile on his face for the first time that he got to this stupid fucking school. 

After leaving the classroom with the note, he was walking down the empty hallways to English when he felt a pang of embarrassment. How seriously pathetic was he, his only friend being the fucking geometry teacher? He was honestly impressed he could manage to be that big of a loser. Fucking hell.

As he rounded the corner to the door of his classroom, the embarrassment was then filled with dread, cold and sending hesitancy spreading throughout all of his limbs in waves. He was going to be late to his English class for the second time in as many days. The first time went so fucking terribly, and there was no way his teacher was going to let Gerard off the hook again, despite having a note, because it seemed like he was just evil like that.

He squinted his eyes as he pushed the doors open, as if that would shield him from whatever was waiting for him inside, trying desperately to not look like he was scared. He thought about it from his classmates perspective, seeing the annoying new kid showing up to English late for the second time, screwing his eyes shut and flinching at nothing like the world’s biggest and most pathetic loser.

The first thing he noticed was that it was quiet. Last time when he had come inside, the teacher had been mid speech, and that obviously hadn’t gone well, so the fact that he could spy the teacher sitting down at his desk disinterested with his students made him feel a little bit better about his chances of getting away unscathed. Gerard awkwardly walked over to the front desk, and cleared his throat. 

The teacher didn’t even look up, he just waved a hand dismissively. 

Gerard just nodded once, more to himself than the teacher, and slowly placed the note down on the table before scurrying off to his table. Which, he realised with dismay, Ray was sitting at, staring at him almost curiously. Gerard pointedly ignored his gaze and sat down in his chair, pulling out the book they were reading from his bag and opening it, pretending like he was actually reading. 

He sat in his chair for about five minutes, -not quite disassociating, but not taking in any of the words he was reading-, when Ray nudged him. Gerard looked up to see him slide a small piece of paper across the table silently. He grabbed the paper, and unfolded it quietly and took in the words of the note.

You alright? You didn’t show up at lunch. 

He felt his chest tighten with guilt but also unease. He couldn’t tell if Ray was upset with him, or concerned. Or both. He wasn’t good at reading people.

Grabbing a pencil from his bag, Gerard quickly scribbled down his answer.

I’m okay. Sorry for not showing up, I was busy.

He had not been busy. 

He folded up the paper and slid it back to Ray again. After around 30 seconds, the note came sliding back to Gerard again. 

Offer’s still up, if you wanna hang?

Gerard felt conflicted. On one hand, he didn’t know if he completely trusted Ray, despite him not really giving Gerard any reason to think of Ray as untrustworthy. It might have stemmed from Gerard being paranoid of everything and everyone, and the fact that he seemed to attract bullies like he was a magnet and they were iron fillings. And the fact that Ray knew, and that getting close to him could result in him finding out the fact that Gerard was convinced that it didn’t even happen in the first place, then Ray would treat him like everyone else he tried pitching his theory to- like he was insane. Could he seriously risk that again? However, as he learned earlier from his interaction with Mrs. Alle, he was fucking desperate to just be able to trust someone and not have to have his guard up constantly. He was fucking sick and tired of expecting the worst out of everyone, that people who were nice to him had some sort of twisted motive or they wanted something from him, and not just because they wanted to be friends with him. He wanted to be liked. 

Hesitantly, and praying to whatever God was up there, he wrote back:

Sure.

His palms were sweating and he scolded himself for getting so worked up. It was just hanging out with people at lunch, he wasn’t being sent off to war, for fuck’s sake. Get a fucking grip, Gerard. He could do this interacting thing, no sweat.

He searched Ray’s face as he read the note, eyes tracing the lines of his face in any sign of a malicious grin or a mischievous glint to his eyes that signified that maybe he was tricking him, but he just gave Gerard his usual laid-back dopey smile. That made Gerard relax a bit. Maybe he did just want to be friends.

The rest of the English lesson the class continued reading the novel that they were going to write an essay on, and it was actually kind of peaceful, because, surprisingly, the jocks at the back of the class were completely silent and actually reading. Which surprised Gerard since they acted like fucking barn animals most of the time. 

However, his peaceful silent reading was tainted by the fact that he could feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of his head at all times. It wasn’t like the usual feeling you got when someone was staring at you, how you unconsciously caught a glimpse of someone looking at you out of the corner of your eye and then your brain convinces you that you can feel them looking at you. The thing was, Gerard could feel it. The feeling wasn’t anything he could put into words either, like someone was shooting two really hot laser beams at the back of his head, a sort of presence lingering behind him that he could sense more than just physically. It was something in the back of his mind pulling away from him, like whoever’s gaze it was had latched onto his occipital lobe and was tugging at him slightly. 

The first second he had felt it, he had felt the unmistakeable, and familiar feeling of something cold wash over his entire body, from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes, and despite the itchy and suffocatingly hot blazer he was wearing, his entire body erupted with goosebumps and he shivered violently, eliciting a concerned look from Ray that he shook off. 

He fought the urge to turn around for the majority of the lesson, telling himself that he was imagining shit and that turning around wasn’t going to solve any of his problems. He was also very close to categorising this as another Weird Thing. His list of stuff to deal with outside of school but also within the hours of 9 AM - 5 PM was getting longer and longer and he hadn’t allowed himself to address any of it yet.

But of course, Gerard was a weak man, and he decided to turn around.

He craned his neck directly over his shoulder, pretending to look at the clock at the back of the classroom, while trying to scan his eyes over the people sitting behind him at the three groups of desks remaining. He was careful to not look at Frank, who he knew was sitting at the back, because his mind had spent an embarrassing amount of time rudely shoving his face to the front of his brain, and he did not need to make a fool of himself again by looking at him, because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t stare like a creep.

His eyes betrayed him, of course. 

His heart also decided to betray him, because as he made eye contact with the person who had been staring holes into the back of his head for the past forty-five minutes, it flipped awkwardly as Gerard and Frank locked eyes. 

Frank’s eyes widened like Gerard had caught him doing something blasphemous, and the tips of his ears went red as he ripped his eyes from Gerard almost immediately, looking back down at his book and clutching it so hard that his knuckles started turning white. Gerard could feel heat start to flood his own face too, and he whipped back around in his seat so quickly that he nearly gave himself whiplash. His heart was also beating at an embarrassingly fast rate for the fact that they had only locked eyes for a couple of seconds.

Before he had any time to even consider what any of that might have implied, the bell rang, the sound piercing through the silence with such force that Gerard nearly fell out of his chair for the second time in a minute. The class immediately erupted into chatter, and he felt Ray grab his arm excitedly. 

“Dude, time for you to meet everyone. I’m so fucking excited, you’re gonna love them. Trust me.” Ray said, hauling Gerard out of the classroom, who had just managed to shove his book into his bag before he was whisked away from English and towards the cafeteria, and away from Frank and his weird staring problem. 

The cafeteria was fucking huge, with giant arching windows facing out towards the grass of the courtyard, with high ceilings and rows upon rows of wooden tables, which were already half occupied. The line for food was also already surprisingly long, considering the fact that they had come the second that class ended, but maybe the food was that good that people were racing from their classes just to eat it.

Unfortunately he was proven wrong. Ray had been chatting his ear off about some band he played guitar in when he was given a tray of food by one of the lunch ladies. He had been expecting something at least not alien-looking for a school so expensive, but was thoroughly disappointed to see that he had been served some sort of casserole that looked like its origins were on another planet. And of course, served with the world’s soggiest fries and a small, sad box of orange juice. Maybe he had made the right decision to skip out on lunch altogether yesterday.

After Gerard and Ray had both gotten their food, Gerard expected Ray to lead him to one of the many tables, but he kept walking towards the giant double doors that entered out into the courtyard.

“Are we seriously sitting outside?” Gerard asked, already wincing.

“Well, yeah,” Ray said. “I’m sure you’ve met other people from this school already, and you know what they’re like. Ya seriously wanna sit in there with them and risk someone throwing the lunch ladies’ casserole at you?”

Gerard grumbled dismissively, still following Ray, because he knew that he was right.

The two of them kept walking, even past the courtyard, and through some old-looking alleyway that was sandwiched between two of the red brick buildings surrounding it, and Gerard highly doubted that whatever laid beyond was even within the school grounds. 

After emerging through the small alley, they ended up face-to-face with a very old looking basketball court. It was obvious that no one had played on the courts for years, potentially decades, the pavement cracked, weeds and grass weaving their way between the cracks and settling over top. The white lines on the court were worn away, and the chain link fence enclosing the whole thing had completely fallen down on one side, and past that point was the forest, the thick gathering of trees obscuring Gerard’s view further than a couple yards.

Ray led him over to one side of the court, where the pavement had been completely swallowed by grass, and a large tree fought through the area where the fence had collapsed, shading the majority of the clearing, the thick roots twisting through the ground. There were also two people sitting there, one leaning with their back against the tree, and the other who he noticed was wearing a fedora -was that even allowed in the dress code?- sitting with their legs crossed, laughing animatedly at something. 

Ray sat down first, joining the others whilst Gerard awkwardly hovered, not knowing if he was welcome to sit despite Ray literally dragging him all the way over here, and if he had done that just for Gerard to stand there then that would be completely stupid. 

As if he had heard Gerard’s thoughts, Ray looked up at him with a grin. “Oh, get over yourself. Sit down, princess, a bit of grass aint gonna kill you.”

Gerard sat down hastily, nearly knocking his orange juice over, and sitting in between Ray and the boy that was leaning against the tree. 

Both of the two boys looked up curiously, their gazes settling on Gerard who shifted uncomfortably and quietly said an awkward hello, while doing a dumb little wave.

The tree-leaning boy, who Gerard noticed had an impressive jawline and piercing blue eyes, squinted at him a bit. “Ray, who the fuck is this?” His tone sounded joking and light-hearted, and Gerard hoped that he wasn’t actually mad at Ray like the words on their own suggested.

Ray smiled and wrapped an arm around Gerard, much to his dismay. “This is Gerald, duh.”

“Ohh! Yes, Ray told me about you.” The boy said, a grin on his face. “All good things, promise me.”

Gerard winced. 

“Am I supposed to know who the fuck Gerald is or why he’s here?” The other boy sitting down piped up.

“It’s actually Gerard.” Gerard said, at the same time Ray and Tree Boy said “He’s just Gerald!”

The tree boy grinned suddenly. “Sick! Ray, we are so in unison. High five me right now, dude.” 

After an incredibly enthusiastic high five between the two of them who had to reach over Gerard, the fedora-wearing boy opened his mouth again. “Nice to meet you then, Gerald. If you’re a friend of Ray’s then you’re a friend of mine. Welcome.” He smiled.

Gerard felt too overwhelmed to correct any of them so he just smiled and nodded, hoping he wasn’t staring at them with too much fear in his eyes.

“Now, let me introduce you to everyone,” Ray said, standing up suddenly, as if he hadn’t done enough of that already. “This is Anthony,” He said, pointing to Tree Boy, who nodded. “He’s funny as fuck, but also feisty, so don’t get on his bad side. Kidding. Maybe.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Ray,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “Stop giving Gerald a bad impression of me, he’s gonna be scared. Gerald, I swear on my mother and everything I love that I’m very nice and peaceful and have never beaten anyone up. I swear.”

Gerard didn’t know if that was an attempt at humor or if he was being serious, but he felt himself giggle in spite of himself.

“Whatever you say, Anthony.” Ray said.

He then pointed to Fedora Boy. “And this is Patrick. He’s kinda shy but hes totally a fucking genius and totally way too good for all of us, but he still hangs around cause he knows we love him.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Don’t need to lay it on thick, Ray, but thanks I guess.”

For the rest of lunch, Gerard didn’t speak much, he mostly just listened to the others talk instead of trying to insert himself into their conversation, and he found that not feeling like he was obliged to say something in fear of being rude was actually amazing. He didn’t feel the need to say anything, and they didn’t make him feel like he had too. He only had to answer when they asked him questions, mostly about the kind of music that he was into. Anthony even complimented his eyeliner, which was actually just yesterday’s eyeliner he had been too exhausted to take off before coming to school.

When lunch finished, he bid Ray and the others goodbye, and headed off towards his next class, which was Art. He felt a warm contentment settle in his chest, and he was so lost in his own head -thinking that maybe, just maybe, things might not be so bad-, that he bumped headfirst straight into someone in the middle of the hallway.

Gerard knew who it was without even looking up to meet his eye, he could tell from the skinny body that his school uniform hung limply off belonged to none other than probably the most self-loving, annoying and egotistical person in the entire school.

Gerard took a huge step backwards, nearly ramming himself into another student as he did so, a tight smirk appearing on Brendon’s face. His eyebrows were raised comically high and his eyes were wide, and honestly he didn’t look fucking terrifying as much as he looked ridiculous. 

Gerard tried to ignore him, and step around him -because, after all, he did have to get to class-, but Brendon stepped at the same time as him, blocking his way. Gerard grunted and turned to look him in the eyes. 

“Can you move, please?” He asked, not sure if he was more nervous or annoyed, but overall just wanting Brendon to get the fuck away from him. Brendon didn’t have that much height on him, and he was thin as a treebranch and in all honesty, Gerard could probably take him in a fight, bandaged wrists and all. All though he highly doubted that he would even have the guts to defend himself, despite being physically able to hold his own.

“I’ve been looking for you, Gerard. All day, actually.” He said, his voice lower and more threatening than his usual nasally obnoxious tone. “Did you forget what I said yesterday?”

Gerard gulped. “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk to you. Get out of my way?” His voice remained level and bored-sounding, miraculously, although he was starting to sweat a bit and the fact that the corridors were quickly emptying of other people worried him.

Brendon took another step forward, his arms crossed over his chest and he started to frown. “Listen, Gerard. Usually, I have my way with people like you. I beat them the fuck up and show them that they don’t fucking belong here.” Gerard’s stomach lurched.

Brendon took a deep breath, nostrils flaring as he quickly glanced behind his shoulder. “You know my buddies, Frank and Ryan, right? They’re my right hand men, and if I tell them to kick someone’s ass, they do it cause they know I'm the boss around here. But for some reason-,” He pointed a finger accusingly at Gerard’s chest, lowering his head so they were at eye level before continuing. “Frank told me to not lay a finger on you. I don’t know why, but I’m an asshole, not a monster, so I’m going to respect what he says. And also because I owe him about $200 worth of cigs right now and I don’t have $200 to pay him back. But that’s besides the point. This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook though, it’s my life’s mission to fuck with you as much as possible without touching you, so don’t get excited just yet.” He stepped back, and then started to walk past Gerard, shouldering him just slightly, leaving him standing there staring right into the space where Brendon’s head had just been.

“I’m gonna have to get real creative, motherfucker. That’s a promise, sweetheart. Just fuckin wait!” He heard Brendon yell over his shoulder, before noisily stomping away. 

Gerard rubbed a hand through his hair, running that same hand down his face before taking a slow, deep breath, and continuing his walk towards Art. 

His head swam. First of all, Brendon most definitely had something against him, and he was about to question what about Gerard had prompted this reaction, before recalling what Brendon had said about him behind his back yesterday. That much was obvious at least. Not that that even was worthy of bullying, having a hunch someone could be gay was seriously not enough leeway to just accept that as reality, at least in his opinion. Secondly, Brendon was not going to beat him up, which was a great thing that he should surely celebrate, because -as the unofficial boss of all the bullies at school for some reason-, that meant that everyone else would probably leave him alone. Less exciting, however, was Brendon saying he was going to ‘get creative’ with fucking with him, which he could imagine would involve some very unpleasant things.

The thing that made his head hurt the most though, was the fact that Frank had told Brendon himself to leave Gerard alone. What motive did he have for that? For all Gerard knew, Frank hated his guts and had zero reason to want to stop him from being beaten up. He was sure that Frank had been staring holes into the back of his head this morning because he was daydreaming about all the different ways he could break Gerard’s ankles or try and shove him into a locker -which would be difficult considering his size-, but now he had to try and process the fact that he, on some level, didn’t want to see Gerard hurt. Frank didn’t even fucking know him, he hadn’t spoken a single word to him, except for a hushed ‘sorry’ after their weird interaction in the doorway of the English classroom yesterday that freaked Gerard out. So why the fuck would he want him exempt from Brendon’s sociopathic tendencies?

He thought that he ought to go for a walk through the forest behind his house this afternoon to ponder this, along with all of the other stuff that he had cast from his mind for the past 48 hours that he seriously needed to dedicate some time to.

The rest of the day passed without issue again, except for the fact that all of the writing Gerard was doing made his wrists ache painfully, and his chest felt weirdly tight and it left him slightly breathless. Ray even caught him in passing in the corridor, and he invited him to come hang out with him and his friends at his house to play video games in his basement, and wrote down his address on a small piece of paper before bidding him goodbye with a smile on his face.

As Gerard walked home, listening to music so loud that his ears hurt, he fidgeted with the piece of paper in his hand. He thought about telling Mikey he had made friends, and he hoped that he would be proud of him for once. He also ought to tease him about his friend Pete, and ask him wether or not Pete was in love with him, cause from the way he looked at Mikey it sure fucking looked like it. 

The main street was slightly wet, puddles pooling on the footpaths from the light rain that had fallen periodically throughout the day, and the majority of the trees were a beautiful array of oranges, browns and yellows, the fallen leaves decorating the ground. The sky was grey, as usual, but there were patches of blue sky peaking through the clouds as the wind whipped them forwards at a rapid pace, that same wind ruffling Gerard’s hair ferociously. 

When he made it home, his hair was knotty beyond belief and he thought that he ought to trim it soon, because it nearly reached his shoulders and he was not one for hairbrushes, which was proving a bad thing. After slinging his school bag down with probably a bit too much force, he stripped himself of his uniform before getting changed into a hoodie and jeans, grabbing his iPod, a sketchbook and two pencils, along with his barely-charged and probably broken cellphone in case he got lost.

Before he could step past the kitchen down the still very dark hallway and towards the front door, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he felt the air shift as someone walked behind him. He whipped his head around blindingly fast, and slightly annoyed, wondering if maybe it was Mikey trying to scare him, but nothing was there. He paused momentarily, and then continued walking down the hallway, and the second he passed the strangely creepy photographs -that his mother had for some reason still not taken down-, he felt something brush the back of his neck, along the small sliver of skin that wasn’t covered by his dark mass of hair or his hoodie. He paused again, now looking behind himself with wild eyes, fear starting to take place in his chest. There was still nothing there. Just the hallway, as dingy as usual. He listened for a moment, and the house was completely silent, almost scarily so, the silence blanketing the air around him and pressing into his skull, the only sound he could hear being his rapid heartbeat in his ears. Shaking his head slightly in disbelief, he power-walked towards the front door and opened it with slightly trembling hands.

He had planned to go explore the woods a little before the sun went down and temperatures dropped below freezing, despite not really being one for nature, and most threateningly, -bugs, and he had thought that he would have wanted to stay around the edge of the forest to be able to linger close to his house, close to safety. But all he wanted now was to get as far away from that fucking house as possible, and away from whatever ghost had it out for him and got off on scaring the shit out of him, and never come back.

He all but sprinted down the stairs from the front porch, and made his way between his house and the one next to it, past the both of them and towards the treeline. He didn’t stop walking for about 15 minutes, dodging stray roots poking out of the ground and stepping around loose rocks, not bothering to try and remember the path back out of the forest because at that moment he didn’t intend to ever come back. Eventually, he found a fallen log to sit on, and he sat down, elbows on his knees and hunched over, his breathing ragged and he felt absolutely fucking hopeless, not for the first time since he arrived in Dawesbury. Gerard couldn’t have one fucking day that was normal. There always had to be something strange happening to him. This never happened before his hospital visit, which, speaking of that, was another thing that he had to worry about. 

He could feel himself about to spiral, and all of the emotions he had felt over the past week and a half came spewing out of him, a sob racking his body and his throat closing uncomfortably. Hot tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, the wind chilling them almost instantly and pleasantly cooling his hot and red face. For a moment, he just sat there, his whole body tense and his heart heavy, replaying every bad thing that had ever happened to him, and he allowed himself a moment to exist in nothing but utter self-pity. 

However, his wallowing-in-his-own-misery session was quickly interrupted by an unintelligible yell in the distance. Gerard stilled instantly, quickly swiping at his eyes, because someone finding him here in tears would be nothing short of embarrassing. 

For a moment, he might have believed he could have been hearing things again, because the forest was silent again bare the sounds of the leaves being rustled by the wind and a bird chirping in the distance. 

Then it came again, and he could hear what was being yelled.

“I’m fucking trying, and you know what! He’s just not- well… You know what I mean, you idiot!” The voice said, and Gerard realised that it was not only getting closer, but wasn’t as distant as he had first thought, it actually sounded like the person yelling was a hundred feet away at most and closing the distance quickly. The strangest part was that the voice sounded vaguely familiar. He also wondered who the fuck was walking around the woods and shouting like a madman at 4 PM on a tuesday.

Gerard had two options. One, he could stay sitting where he was, and risk a very awkward interaction with a stranger, like, “Oh yeah, aha, I could hear you yelling at nothing in the middle of the woods. I’m going to go now, goodbye.” Or he could get up, and stop being such a baby and go back home, to where there was totally not a ghost with a kink for getting his heartrate up.

It turned out that his body decided to go with option one, despite his trying to will himself up and away, but he just couldn’t muster up the strength to even stand up. Before he had any real time to prepare himself for a really uncomfortable situation with a random guy, he saw someone step into the clearing. 

Gerard balked for a second, the person stepping into his view being so low on his list of who he had expected, sandwiched between Jesus Christ himself and Santa Claus. 

Frank stared up at him, his mouth still open as if he was about to continue speaking, one of his hands clutching at a necklace which he had raised in front of his face, and the other hand clutched into a first at his side. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform either, -which made sense, Gerard had no idea why he would have been-, instead he was dressed in a black sweatshirt, a big puffy coat, dark denim jeans, and a grey scarf which Gerard had to desperately convince himself shouldn’t have looked as good on him as they did. His dark hair was slightly tousled, framing his face annoyingly perfectly as normal, and his skin looked so pale and bright it was almost translucent, and Gerard noticed the black gauges in his ears that he was definitely not wearing at school when he saw him earlier that day, along with a silver lip ring. 

For a moment, the two boys stared at each other with their mouths hanging open slightly, before Gerard broke eye contact, which was surprisingly difficult, focusing his eyes on a piece of grass on the floor. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone was out here.” Frank said, and somewhere in the back of Gerard’s mind he latched onto the sound of him apologising, and filed it away for later, which was probably really perverted of him and maybe he deserved everything bad. 

Gerard coughed awkwardly, and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Don’t worry about it, I don’t even know what I’m doing here anyways.” He built the courage to look back up at Frank, whose previously pale face was now flooded with colour, and Gerard could see his flush spreading down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his sweater, which he had to tear his eyes away from. “I think I’m lost, anyways.” He said with a sniffle.

He watched as something behind Frank’s expression shifted, and he schooled his features almost instantly, a lazy smile appearing on his face despite something behind his eyes faintly resembling some level of panic. “Yeah, well, sorry if I scared you. If I told you I was talking to myself, would you think I’m weird?”

Gerard snorted. “I think I’m exempt from calling anyone weird, considering that’s like the thing I’m known for. But hey, takes one to know one I guess?”

Frank’s smile grew more sly. “Hey, you’re supposed to say, ‘No Frank, you’re not weird, you’re so totally awesome and we need to be friends!’, right?” He took a couple steps forward. “That’s totally what you meant, yeah?”

At that, Gerard suddenly remembered who he was talking to. The guy who was supposedly the ‘right-hand man’ of the biggest asshole of all time, -despite the fact that Frank allegedly stood up for him-, and the same guy that had stared daggers at him for an hour today. He felt himself throw his guard up, and he said slowly. “Uhm, sure.”

Frank seemed to sense his unease and he blew out a breath, coming to sit beside Gerard on the tree trunk. Gerard felt himself unconsciously shuffle away from him.

“Look,” Frank said, not looking at Gerard. “I know you probably think I’m the biggest asshole of all time, cause I hang out with Brendon who is the biggest asshole, and by association it would make me one as well.”

Gerard grimaced. “You ignored me when I tried talking to you, and you were staring daggers at me the whole of English like you wanted my body hanging from a rope. What’s there for me to understand past what you’ve unequivocally shown me?” 

Frank frowned. “Look, I-” He quickly glanced around the forest, looking for something and obviously not finding it because he continued speaking. “I’m really sorry, it’s super complicated but I… cannot talk to you at school.”

Gerard felt himself roll his eyes. “What, can’t be seen hanging out with a fag cause your buddies will tease you about it? Why even bother talking to me right now, then?”

Frank sighed again, sharper this time. “It’s not that, for fucks sake. I don’t give a shit who you get your rocks off to, okay. Like I said, it’s complicated. But I think you’re cool. Seriously.”

At that, Gerard whirled to face Frank. “Okay? And you’re telling me this… why?”

Frank blinked at him. “I wanted to be, uh, friends? Only if you want, of course, I would understand if you don’t in all honesty cause if I were you I probably wouldn’t want to either, but-” Gerard cut his rambling off with a highly strung laugh.

“Friends? With me?” He gestured to himself. “I didn’t know if I was really the type of guy you would be wanting to hang out with.” 

Frank awkwardly toyed with his lip ring with his teeth, another blush spreading across his face. It was weirdly endearing and insanely cute, which only aggravated Gerard even more. “I- I didn’t mean, like, I mean– You seem like someone I would get along with, I don’t know–”

Gerard interrupted him again. “Are you usually this awkward when you ask people to be your friend?”

It was Frank’s turn to laugh. “Hah, no. I’m not usually this pathetic at human interaction. Uhm.”

Sensing that it was getting into really-fucking-awkward territory, Gerard decided to change the topic. "So... What's with the piercings?"

"Oh," Frank said, looking greatful for the sudden switch in conversation. "School makes me take them out, so. Yeah. I put them in when I get back home."

Gerard frowned. "Seems like a lot of work."

Frank's lips quirked in a smile. "I'm dedicated to my aesthetics, what can I say?"

Frank then said something else along the lines of either, "So how's school?" or "Do you think a Macrogryphosaurus or a Brachiosaurus would win in a fight?" but Gerard's train of thought was already slipping away from reality without him realising. 

Gerard tilted his head up towards the sky, which he realised was darkening at an alarming rate and he should probably be home before his mother called the police. She would be waiting at home with dinner ready, which made him realise he was really fucking hungry, and suddenly he wanted to bolt from the forest, away from Frank and his pretty eyes and awkward rambling that was a stark contrast to the way he acted at school with his friends. 

He was drawn from his train of thought by Frank staring straight at him, eyes flicking between both of Gerard’s eyes, and for a split second so quick he might have imagined it, his mouth. Gerard realised he was waiting for a response but he had no fucking clue what Frank had even said. 

“Can you tell me the way back? I wasn’t lying about being lost.” Was what Gerard said instead.

Frank’s face fell slightly, it was definitely not what he had wanted Gerard to say but he nodded and got up from the tree branch, and beckoned Gerard to come with him and out of the clearing.

The walk back was mostly silence, except for Frank asking him what he thought of the people at his new school, to which Gerard spat out a curt, “Fucking horrible, mostly thanks to you and your friends.” Which made Frank bite his lip anxiously and cast his gaze back down at his feet.

After 15 minutes of walking, they finally reached the edge of the woods, where Frank rocked back and forth on his heels slightly before bidding Gerard an enthusiastic goodbye and a smile way too big for the fact that Gerard had been a sulky bitch the whole time, and unbelievably walked back into the woods. 

Gerard walked back into his house on autopilot, a lot of thoughts swirling around his head but there was one main one that fought to the forefront of his mind. 

What the fuck was Frank’s deal? 

He flopped onto his bed after eating dinner, -which was disappointingly a casserole, just like the disgusting one he had had at school, but it warmed his cold insides and brought him the smallest amount of comfort, in a weird way-, and he listened to the familiar sound of a tree branch scratching at his window. 

He was done with weird things, he had told himself, surely he had reached his limit for one day, right? That was what he had said to himself, but when he sat up slightly and looked towards the window with horror to find that there were actually zero tree branches close to his window -which baffled him that he hadn’t already noticed that-, he burst into tears and shoved a pillow over his head, his sobs muffling the sound of the scratching which was coming from somewhere in his walls. 

He was fucking over all of it.

He was lulled into a depressing and patchy sleep, and as he lay in bed, half asleep, he felt someone staring at him, the same feeling he had felt in English that day, and he decided that he didn’t want to spare another thought about it. He was done.

Notes:

Any thoughts, theories or feedback would be appreciated!

Chapter 5: I Don't Wanna Party

Notes:

New chapter is here, and my computer is fixed, yay! hope you enjoy, we get some actual Gerard and Frank interaction in this one. also some sibling bonding time, if you can call it that lol.

October, 2007

 

It had been three and a half weeks since the scratching in Gerard’s walls had started, and it didn’t seem like it was going to be stopping anytime soon.

It was now the very beginning of October, and the earth around the town had decided to get its ass completely in gear, the amount of leaves on the trees thinning rapidly and coating the ground in a mishmash of brown, yellow and orange. The chill in the air at nighttime certainly had more of a bite, and Gerard could feel something in the air shifting. The climate in Dawesbury wasn’t like anything he had experienced back in Jersey, but maybe that was because it was a smaller town, so it was easier to notice changes in the climate when there were only a couple hundred people living in the area. It was as though the earth itself was sucking up more and more air, in preparation for holding its breath throughout the entirety of winter. The air felt thinner, and the chill no longer sat upon his skin uncomfortably, rather it was now able to seep all the way into his bones and cement itself there permanently. He could feel it, at nighttime when he was bundled up in about 10 different blankets, holding a pillow over his head to try and dampen the sound of the scratching, the way that the coldness seemed to latch onto him with its claws and whenever he would try to warm himself up, it would only dig deeper. 

Gerard was able to slip into a bit of a routine over the few weeks that had passed, going to school, -hoping Brendon wasn’t about to appear around the next corner and beat him up or something-, hanging out with his friends, and then stopping by the convenience store with all their comics to read for a little while. The owner of the store was an old man that surely should have retired earlier, who didn’t mind Gerard just sitting down and reading without buying anything, and he had even moved a desk chair into an empty corner of the shop for him to sit and read. The man seemed to be really passionate about his collection, and the two of them would sometimes chat about new releases or their all-time favourites. Gerard, in return, would offer to help out around the shop, although the man would always refuse with a smile, and tell him that just having him around was a gift enough, because no one really came into the store that often. 

One part of his weekly routine was also watching Frank run away from Gerard every time he so much as caught a glimpse of him. It might not have been so confusing if Frank hadn’t told Gerard a few weeks ago that he wanted to be friends. But now? It looked like Frank would rather cut off both of his arms and eat them than even be in the same room as him. But whatever, if Frank wanted to keep his distance, then Gerard would happily oblige him. The longer Frank avoided him, the more embarrassing it was that Gerard had gone back to the spot where they had met originally, more than once, a tiny part of him hoping that maybe there was a chance that Frank might be there.

It was a Saturday, and Gerard had been invited over to Ray’s house to hang out and play video games with him, Anthony and Patrick. Ray’s house was nice, although weirdly enough all of the windows had black-out curtains that were drawn at all times, and it was closer to the school, where he found out there was a whole other neighbourhood filled with significantly more expensive houses than the ones near Gerard’s. They always hung out in the basement, which was filled with all of Ray’s guitars and all of his other music equipment that Gerard couldn’t even begin to figure out how to use. 

He felt safe and respected in the basement, when it was just him and his friends and there was no judgment, no secret harboring of dislike that he could feel from his old friends, and he began to realise why people hated being alone. If this was what it felt like to hang out with actual friends, then maybe he would have tried harder back in New Jersey.

What happened in New Jersey didn’t matter, though. He was here, now, in Dawesbury, with a family that loved him, friends that respected him, and one weirdo avoiding him. It was a step up from his old life, that was for sure. 

They were sitting on the couch in the basement when Ray brought it up.

“Hey uh, any of you heard anything about Frank’s Halloween party, this year?” He asked casually, still holding his videogame controller and eyes focused on the small TV in the corner.

“Uh, No? Do you think we’re seriously the people to be asking about this, Ray?” Patrick asked, “I mean, you’re the guy who’s friends with everyone.”

Ray frowned at the TV as his little pixelated character fell over, and he lost. “Fuck. Patrick, I demand a rematch.”

Patrick rolled his eyes but obliged. “Don’t get mad if I beat your ass again, Toro. It’s your funeral.”

Anthony looked up from where he was fiddling with the record player that was in the corner of the room. “Why’d you ask about the party, Ray?”

Ray shrugged casually, but Gerard could see the ghost of a smile he was holding back from where he was sketching on the couch. “Oh, no reason, just scored invites for all of us. No big deal.”

Both Anthony and Patrick whipped their heads towards Ray and chirped out a high pitched “Really?!” In unison with each other.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Anthony asked, shaking his head slightly and coming to sit in between Ray and Gerard on the couch. “How the fuck did you manage that? You serenade Frank with your guitar and put him under a spell or something?”

Ray laughed. “Something like that, yeah.”

“Dude,” Patrick said. “This is gonna be a perfect opportunity to recruit someone else for the band. I know we tried posting that announcement on FaceBook but literally no-one saw it. If half the school’s gonna be there, we can totally convince someone to join. And Ray, you can put your sweet-talking skills to use and try and get us a few more gigs.”

Patrick sighed and put his hands behind his head, and titled it to the ceiling. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this, man.” 

Gerard just kind of stared at all of them. “Seriously? Frank’s party? I thought we all knew he was an asshole, why is this a good thing?”

Anthony turned to look at him. “Ah, I forgot you’re still new here. You see, Frank’s halloween party is sort of… a big deal? As in like, the most popular people in the whole school get invited every year and if you wanna know if you’ve made it, you get an invite.” He crossed his arms smugly. “And I guess we fucking made it, boys.”

At that, Ray winced slightly. “Well… When I said I scored us all invites I meant it more like–  I’m invited, and I’m going to smuggle the rest of you guys in?”

Anthony’s smile dropped and he frowned. “Oh. So… We haven’t made it, then?” 

Ray offered him a sympathetic look. “Hey listen, don’t place your self worth on a party, man. I mean, you’re still gonna be able to go, just… Illegally. That makes it more impressive, I say.”

Anthony seemed to accept that, and got up and went back to fussing with the record player.

Gerard frowned as Patrick and Ray continued playing their game. “I… Does this invite include me?” He asked. 

Ray didn’t look up from his controller as he answered. “Yeah of course man, I’d be upset if you didn’t wanna go.”

Gerard swallowed. A party was already usually a no-go for him, he’d only been to one back in New Jersey, and it consisted of him standing in the corner of a crowded living room whilst awkwardly sipping something disgusting from a plastic cup. If that was anything to go by, he did not get the hype about parties. Secondly, not only was it a party, it was Frank’s party, and presumably at his house. There was no fucking way Frank would want him there, especially if Ray was going to ‘smuggle them in’, what if he saw Gerard and kicked him out? That would be social suicide. He couldn’t risk his reputation. Not that he had one or anything.

“Uhm.” He started. “You guys go, I’ll probably sit this one out. Parties aren’t really my thing…” 

Ray barked out a laugh. “No fuckin way, dude. You can’t miss this, we’ve only got one more year before we graduate, you gotta take chances when they come knocking. Plus we’re all gonna be there together.”

“I’m…  I don’t know.” Gerard said, clicking his pen repeatedly until Patrick glared at him to stop.

“C’monnn,” Anthony pleaded. “Gerard, you’re part of the group now, you gotta come too. Either we all go together or not at all. And I really wanna fuckin’ go. Please?” Anthony attempted his best puppy-dog eyes and clasped his hands together under his chin in a pleading motion.

Gerard waved him away and turned his head so he couldn’t see the smile that was fighting onto his face. “Fine. Look, I’ll think about it, okay?” He could see the boys pump their fists and high-five out of the corner of his eye. “No promises, though!” He reminded them.

Ray nodded solemnly. “Got it, bro. You’ll come around though.” He looked at Patrick, and then at Anthony solemnly. “They always do. No one can resist my charm.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

That afternoon after he had walked home from Ray’s house with the strange blackout curtains, he decided that he probably ought to call his friends from New Jersey. Although they hadn’t seemed too upset about his move, he did promise he would call eventually, and it had been nearly a month since he left. If they didn’t pick up, then at least he couldn’t beat himself up for not even trying to keep in contact. It would be their fault, not his. If they picked up, then it would be nice to know that he had made a big-enough impression on them for them to still want to talk to him.

He grabbed his cellphone from where it was resting on his bedside table, and then sat down on the bed with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest whilst he gazed out the window. 

He flipped the phone open and navigated through all of the apps, before typing in the only number of his old friends’ that he remembered, a guy named Terry who had been his closest friend for a few months. Terry had been nothing but nice to him, and he was supremely talented at painting, so the two had gotten along quite well. However, throughout the whole friendship, Gerard couldn’t shake the feeling that Terry wasn’t telling him something, or that he was talking behind his back.

The phone rang twice before Terry picked up. 

“Hey, who is this?” He asked, voice scratchy through the line.

“Hey, Terry! It’s Gerard. I promised you I’d call so, y’know, just doing that now.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

There was a moment of silence through the phone. “Sorry, who?” Terry said.

Gerard laughed nervously. “Uhm, Gerard?”

He heard some sort of noise through the line, like Terry was moving around a bit. “Look, I don’t… I don’t know anyone with that name.”

Gerard’s heart dropped. “What? We were friends. You’re from New Jersey, right? You’re Terry Jackson? We went to school together?”

There was more silence. “Look, man, I don’t know how you know my name or where I live, but I don’t know who Gerard is, and I don’t know who you are. Please don’t call me again, or I’ll have to block your number.” 

“What? Don’t be fucking stupid, I’m–” Just like that, the line was cut off. 

He let the phone go silent in his hands while he just kind of sat and stared out of the window. The fuck was Terry’s problem? They had hung out so many times over the last 6 months of Gerard’s time in Jersey, the fucker had even slept at his house! There’s no way he could have completely forgotten about his existence in the span of a single month. Either Terry had some sort of fucked up brain damage, or he was intentionally doing that because he wanted to forget about Gerard’s existence. Or he was playing some sort of messed up prank on him. He wished he had never tried to be a better person and call in the first place.

Suddenly Gerard was furious. How dare he? He was never anything but nice to Terry, and now he was pulling this bullshit the second he moved away? What a fucked up thing to do. He snapped his phone shut with maybe a little bit too much force before clambering up off the bed and storming downstairs towards Mikey’s room.

He wrenched the door open, not even pausing to shut it before sitting down on the bed with an exasperated huff next to Mikey, who was watching TV. 

Mikey eyed him suspiciously. “Hello to you too?” He slowly reached for the remote and muted the TV as Gerard stared at the wall angrily, like he was trying to punch a hole through it with his eyes.

“You know what Terry just tried to fuckin’ pull with me, Mikey?” He said, crossing his arms, speaking again without even giving Mikey time to respond. “You remember him right? We were pretty close for a couple months back in Jersey, right? He came over to our house a bunch of times, you should remember because he was my only friend. Well, I just called him and he acted like he didn’t even remember me! Can you believe that, Mikes? As if he could fucking forget about my entire existance in three weeks, yeah, sure . As if I could fucking believe that. Honestly, I would have just preferred he told me to my face that he didn’t wanna talk. Instead of trying to, what, convince me he got amnesia or something? Give it a rest.” He started even more intently at the wall, waiting for Mikey to respond.

After a few seconds of silence, Gerard looked over at Mikey, who had his head down, refusing eye contact. 

“What?” Gerard asked, rolling his eyes. “I know, you’re probably gonna tell me you knew he was an asshole all along cause, you ‘know things, remember?’ look, I would have preferred a heads up before I went through with making friends with such a dick!” 

When Mikey still didn’t respond, Gerard put a hand on his leg where it was crossed on the bed. “Hey, you okay? Did I come in at a bad time?” His rage softened as he looked at his little brother, who was still looking away uncomfortably. “Look, I can leave if you want?”

Mikey shook his head ever so slightly. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but thought better of it and shut his mouth again.

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” Gerard asked, in his soft voice reserved only for when Mikey was scared or upset.

At first, when he spoke, it was so quiet that Gerard had to strain to hear him.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Gerard said, leaning in. “Say it again, I didn’t hear.”

Mikey looked up at him then. “I don’t… I don’t remember Gerard. A lot of things, and at first I thought it was just a coincidence, but–”

“Wait.” Gerard said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “What do you mean you don’t remember?” 

Mikey was silent again.

“You don’t remember what? Please, Mikey, you can tell me. I’m your brother.” He pleaded. 

Mikey looked away, and Gerard could see some sort of internal war raging behind his eyes, like he was torn between two things and couldn’t get the words out. Eventually he sighed, shrugging Gerard’s hands off his shoulders.

“Ever since we moved here, I felt like something was off.” He started, looking at his hands. “I don’t know if you felt it too, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. And then, recently, I’ve been… not able to remember certain things, stuff from when we lived in Jersey, you know? Like, if you asked me the name of our old school, I would have zero idea. I don’t remember your friend Terry. I don’t even remember my friends. It feels like someone’s just wiped a chunk of my memory from my brain, and I don’t know why, but I fucking hate it. I can tell something’s wrong, and I…” He trailed off, looking at Gerard again.

“I believe you, y’know?” Mikey said.

Gerard scrunched his eyebrows together. “You believe what?”

“That you didn’t do it yourself. The wrist thing.” Mikey said, much to Gerard’s surprise. “Look, I’m not a fucking psychic, like you seem to think, but– I… notice things, more than other people. I can feel when shit’s about to happen, and I can tell when something isn’t right. And right now, I feel this overwhelming feeling of panic and alarm, like something really bad is happening. The memory loss is only part of it, I don’t even have any explanation for that. So, I feel like… I don’t know. I just don’t think you would lie to me about something like that? And, fuck, if I’m having memory loss then maybe something seriously weird is going on, Gerard. I feel like they’re connected.” 

Gerard looked at him, blinking slowly. “Thank you, Mikey,” he said quietly. “I’m really fucking sorry you’re going through, that. Fuck. This is weird, isn’t it?”

Mikey let out a strained laugh. “Yeah. It fucking sucks. It’s been happening to Mom too, you know? I asked her about whether or not my new teachers at school had any idea that I did Advanced English back in Jersey, but she said she had no idea what I was talking about. She didn’t remember what school I went to, let alone if I took Advanced English or not. This was before I started forgetting things, too. I was gonna tell you but I had no idea if you were gonna believe me or not, because Mom acted like everything was normal.”

Gerard frowned. “So this is not just a you thing? It’s happening to Mom too? What the fuck.” He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Also, I’m always gonna believe you, Mikes. Don’t you forget that, I may be an asshole sometimes– But… you’re my little brother. I’m gonna listen to what you have to say.”

Mikey swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered slightly. 

“I’m scared.” Mikey admitted, in a small voice. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, or why.”

Gerard frowned again, his heart hurt to see Mikey upset, especially when he didn’t even have a way to fix it. “Yeah. I’m scared too.” He said. “But we’ve got each other, hey? You and me against the world, the same way it’s always been.” 

At that, he smiled slightly. “I guess so. But I just don’t know what’s going on, Gee. I don’t know what to do. There’s something about this town, I can feel it. Maybe I’m just reading into it too much, I don’t know. But.” He took in a deep breath before speaking again. “I don’t think we’re here because of a coincidence. And I don’t think your accident was an unfortunate failed suicide attempt. I think,” He paused.

“I think we ended up in Dawesbury for a reason.” Mikey finished. 

Gerard’s blood ran cold. He felt it, then. It wasn’t physical, but he could feel something inside himself sliding into place. He knew, in a place far, far away, in the back of his head, that Mikey was right. He just had to figure out why. 

“Okay.” Gerard said.

“Okay?” Mikey echoed.

“I’m gonna figure it out. For you. For both of us, actually.” Gerard finished.

Mikey bit his lip anxiously. “I trust you. Whatever you find out, no matter how fucked up it seems, I’ll– I’ll believe you. I’ll help in any way you need me too, okay? I may be only 15 but I’m not completely clueless.”

Gerard smiled lightly. “I know you’re capable, Mikey.” He felt the tension that had been building up behind his shoulders melt away slightly, and he leaned back against the wall.

“So,” He said, with a slightly mischievous smile on his face. “Tell me about this Pete guy.”

Mikey blushed and threw an arm over his face. “Shut the hell up! I take back everything I said.”

☆

The next day, Gerard decided that he would spend the day out of the house, in nature, and packed up a small leather satchel with all the equipment he needed for a day of drawing and painting. His small hardcover sketchbook, -with pages thick enough to hold watercolour-, a set of graphite pencils, an eraser, and of course his travel-sized watercolour palette, complete with a small sealed tub of water and a few paint brushes. At first, he set out into the woods with no final destination in mind, however his feet carried him to the spot he and Frank had met all those weeks ago -without him realising-, like he was on autopilot. Eventually, he found the familiar clearing, and sat down on the mossy floor, revelling in the way the feel of the soft plant felt between his fingertips when he placed his hands on it. The feeling of being so close to the earth itself grounded him, not just physically- but also mentally. He got out his sketchbook and pencils, and then set up his watercolor on the ground next to himself, and started sketching, not even bothering with music. Instead, he listened to the sounds of the forest, the leaves being rustled by the wind, the cicadas chirping, and the call of a lone mourning dove in the distance. 

He sketched for a while, his mind carrying him through all sorts of trains of thought, dancing from one thing to the next whilst not really thinking of anything remarkable or important. Mostly, he thought about what would happen next in the comic he was drawing, and whether or not he would give his main character a happy ending. Sure, he liked happy endings, but he couldn’t tell whether or not leaving the ending ambiguous and up for interpretation would give the ending of the story more of a lasting impact on the reader. 

He then began wondering if his own story would have a happy ending. He thought about everything he had experienced in his own life so far, all the bullying and years of loneliness he had to endure, just because he dressed a certain way or wasn’t sociable enough. He had spent so long thinking that it was him that was the problem– that he just wasn’t built for friendships, because no one talked to him, and if they did, it felt like he had to constantly pretend to be normal around them. Like he was a robot operating on autopilot and saying the things he was meant to be saying, not because he wanted to. His whole life, he felt like he’d been left out on some huge secret to socializing and friendships that everyone else got to know, and he was an outsider, just expected to figure it out. But how was he supposed to do that? 

His new friends in Dawesbury didn’t make him feel like that, though. Maybe it was because they were also sorta weird, or maybe it was because even if Gerard said something kinda awkward or fucked up, they just took it in their stride, like it was nothing. They also never pressured him to talk, and they didn’t think it was weird that some days, all Gerard wanted to do was sit and listen to them talk amongst themselves, perfectly content to just observe quietly. They also didn’t comment on his crazy mood swings, and the way sometimes he could be so talkative that it was nearly impossible to get him to shut up. What was even crazier, is that not only would the boys be understanding of how he was feeling, they would even match his energy and whatever level of conversation he was up for at any given moment. It was like they could read how he was feeling and automatically adapt to it without trying, as if the four of them had known each other for as long as the earth had rotated around the sun. He couldn’t think of any people he was more grateful to have in his life than his friends.

Thinking about his friends reminded him of their conversation today, about Frank’s party. He had promised them he would think about it, and what better time to think than right now? There wasn’t really much for him to consider, though. His head was telling him that it was a bad idea, that it was sure to end in some sort of embarrassing situation and that he would probably ruin it for everyone else, but his heart was screaming at him to live a little. Thinking about it more, it was a Halloween party, which meant that everyone would probably be dressed up in cool costumes, and he giggled imagining his friends dressed up looking all silly. His mind wandered to what Frank would be wearing, and he pictured him wearing a vampire costume, with fangs and fake blood. It would be kinda hot, in a really stupid way.

He then abandoned his comic, and opened a new page and started sketching Frank as a vampire. His mind started wandering to other, probably less appropriate things, and he sat there drawing for a few minutes, a content smile on his face. Who cared if Frank didn’t wanna speak to him? There were no rules saying he couldn’t use his gorgeous face as a model for his latest fantasy, at least. 

He was snapped out of his drawing-induced trance when he heard a tree branch snap. His head whipped up from where it had been close to his sketchbook, as he looked up to see none other than the guy he’d just been thinking about for the past 10 minutes. Speak of the devil, and he manifests himself.

“Oh. Hello.” Frank said, his black hair covering most of his face, his hood pulled up around his head and his shoulders crossed over his chest defensively. He didn’t even look up to make eye contact with Gerard. 

“What are you doing here, Frank?” Gerard asked, genuinely slightly confused yet he couldn’t quell the buzz of excitement that he fought away. “I thought you were supposed to be ignoring me?”

Frank sniffled slightly. It was only then that Gerard realised that his face was red and splotchy, like he’d been crying.

“I didn’t think you were going to be here.” He said, in a small voice. “I can leave, though.” 

Frank turned to leave and started walking out of the clearing before Gerard all but yelled at him, “Wait! Frank! I- uhm… Are you okay?” 

Frank paused, his back to Gerard. “No. I’m not. But you already hate me enough, so I’m going to leave before I make it any worse.” He continued walking, and Gerard leaped up from where he had been sitting, his sketchbook falling onto the moss-covered ground with a soft thump.

“Hey, stop.” Gerard said, catching up to Frank and grabbing him by the bicep, forcing him to turn around to look at him. When Frank turned around, Gerard finally looked him in the eyes, and the sight nearly took all of the breath out of his lungs. His eyes were red around the edges, huge and sparkling with tears, his eyebrows pinched together slightly and he was pouting his lips unintentionally, his cheeks stained slightly wet with tears. His hair was messy, and his silver lip ring was catching in the light and almost commanding Gerard to look down at his lips, which were red and slightly wet with tears. He looked like he had been crying for a little while, and he looked a mess. He also looked insanely, out-of-this-world gorgeous. Frank looked up at him for a second, his expression flickering before he let out a huge sigh and his shoulders slumped. 

Gerard mentally slapped himself back into reality, and tried to figure out how he could comfort Frank and smooth that little wrinkle between his perfect eyebrows. “Hey, uhm. Come sit down with me?” Gerard offered, cursing himself internally when it came out less cool than he had imagined. “You can talk to me about what upset you, if you want.”

Frank nodded slightly and the two walked back to where Gerard had been sitting originally, slumping down against the giant fallen tree branch with a sigh. Frank tipped his head back to lean against the branch and Gerard tried his hardest not to stare at his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” Gerard asked, as Frank sighed out another breath and closed his eyes, his long dark eyelashes resting against his red splotchy cheeks.

“I keep fucking things up, and no matter how hard I try, things never happen how I want, and I just feel like the universe is playing some sort of joke on me, ‘cause it feels like everything is just falling apart.” He rushed his words out quickly, in one breath, like he was afraid if he said them too quickly then Gerard would start judging him.

Gerard nodded slowly, slightly surprised at Frank’s admission and his openness. “Yeah, I get it.”

When Frank didn’t continue, Gerard nudged him with his shoulder slightly. “Keep going, I’m listening.”

“I’m just- I can’t really tell you the whole story because it’s so fucking insane that I can’t even begin to explain it, but I’m stuck in a situation where I gotta choose between two things that are really, really important. Like, life or death kinda thing. And I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice, cause I had to do some kinda fucked up things–.” He paused, looking at Gerard warily. “Nothing Illegal of course.”

Gerard held up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t gonna say it!”

Frank smiled slightly, running a hand over his face before turning back to face the sky, head leaning against the tree branch. “But yeah, I've had to make some pretty difficult decisions, and I don’t know if it was worth it or if I even made the right choice in the first place. And I– oh god, I don’t know why I’m admitting this to you but I am, I’m already a fucking burden on this earth because I shouldn’t even be here.” He paused. “And no, that’s not me saying that in a “I’m depressed, please God take this pain away from me” type of way, that’s in a “My family all died in a terrible accident, and I should have died with them, but I didn’t” type of way. I’ve spent every waking minute since that day thinking ‘why them, and not me?’ and now that all of this other shit’s happened, I’m… I don’t know. It feels like God kept me here just to punish me.”

Gerard genuinely had zero idea how to respond. He didn’t expect Frank to be so open about how he felt when he had asked him to ‘talk about what upset him’, and he didn’t know what to do with that, considering Frank had been sending him some pretty weird mixed signals for the past few weeks. He could ask him about that later, though, but he had to comfort the poor guy first. He was obviously going through it.

“That sounds fucking terrible, I’m sorry you and your family went through something like that. Survivors' guilt is no joke. Trust me when I say I get it.” Gerard said, wishing he was better with words.

Frank gave him a lopsided grin. “You get it?” He asked, and Gerard couldn’t decipher his tone.

He shrugged. “Do you know why I ended up here in the first place?” Gerard asked.

Frank swallowed nervously. “Uhm. No?” He offered, as if he was curious but didn’t want to pry.

If Frank was open and vulnerable, then the least Gerard could do was offer some of his own trauma to the guilt-soup that was brewing already. 

“I woke up in the hospital with cuts in my wrists with people telling me I had nearly just bled to death in the middle of the woods, and that I had attempted to take my own life. I should have been dead with the amount of blood I lost, but I wasn’t. And I didn’t remember a fucking thing.” Gerard said, matter-of-factly. He hadn’t laid it out plainly like that for someone to see before, and now that it was out there, it sounded worse than he remembered. 

He looked at Frank to gauge his reaction, who looked pale and suddenly like he was about to throw up. 

“Sorry,” Gerard said, immediately regretting saying anything at all. “I shouldn’t be laying my problems on you, you’re already upset as it is–” 

“No, no of course not! It’s fine.” Frank said. “I just… That’s really terrible. I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry.” He swallowed again.

Gerard looked at him curiously. “I mean, you weren’t the one who did it, don’t be sorry.” He shrugged. “It happened, I’m alive, the only thing I can do now is keep going day by day. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to change anything.”

Frank nodded, and it looked like he was trying to convince himself into believing those words for real. “Yeah. You’re right, I guess. Can’t do anything about the past cause time travel isn’t real. Although I wish it was.” He sighed.

Gerard giggled slightly and mirrored Frank’s pose, leaning his head against the tree trunk and gazing up into the tall canopy of trees. The sun was setting, and he had zero idea of the time, and he also had no idea how many hours he had been out in the woods already. 

Him and Frank sat in silence for a few minutes, before Gerard heard Frank make some sort of choked noise and he turned to see that he had tears streaming down his face again, and he was trying his best not to start sobbing. Gerard felt his chest constrict inwards on itself, and for a moment it was like he felt Frank’s pain, as he felt a crashing, dark wave of sadness wrack over his entire body and pull at something deep within his soul.

Another sob fought to escape Frank’s mouth and he slapped a hand over his mouth in an effort to keep quiet, before Gerard decided that, fuck being careful, the poor bastard needed a hug. Gerard gently grabbed Frank’s shoulders, pulling him so that he was sitting upright, before wrapping both his arms around his shoulders and tugging him close to his body. Almost immediately, Frank bought his arms around Gerard’s waist, and they were pressed so tightly together that Gerard could feel every wrecked sob that fought to escape from Frank’s throat, every shaky inhale, and he could feel the warmth of his tears through the fabric of his stupidly thin hoodie. They sat like that for God knows how long, with Frank sobbing into Gerard’s shoulder, clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him alive, with Gerard slowly stroking one hand over Frank’s hair in an attempt to soothe him.

It should have been a completely normal instance of Frank just needing some comfort, and Gerard should most definitely not make it weird, but being pressed so close to his body made all of his senses heightened so incredibly that he felt weird and tingly everywhere that Frank was pressed against him. His heart was beating so rapidly that Gerard was sure Frank could feel it, and Frank’s hair was ridiculously soft under his fingertips, and he tried not to think about the way he could feel his shaky inhales on his neck, and the way that it made him feel. 

He was simply just comforting someone in need. 

Eventually, Frank had calmed down enough and his breathing slowed, although he didn’t make an effort to let go. Instead, he took a long, slow inhale through his mouth, right next to the sensitive spot under Gerard’s ear. It made him shudder, and in fear of embarrassing himself, he gently pushed Frank off him, who looked at him with slight protest. 

He fought around in his brain to come up with a change of topic, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Do you wanna see some of my drawings?” 

Gerard immediately regretted it as soon as he said it, because he didn’t show anyone his drawings. Not even Mikey was allowed to look through his sketchbook. He regretted it even more because Frank smiled, the widest, most genuine smile he had seen from him so far, and said, “Like fuck I wanna see!”

So mournfully, and with a bit of apprehension, he quickly grabbed his sketchbook and flipped to the least incriminating page, which was his comic page he had been drawing before he was… distracted. 

He handed the book to Frank, who looked at it with wide eyes. “No fucking way, you seriously did all this yourself?” He said.

Gerard blushed slightly. “Uhm, yeah. I was drawing this before you showed up, actually.”

Frank looked up at him, something beautiful and bright shining behind his eyes. “This is seriously amazing, wow. I mean, I thought you were cool before this but damn! You’re so talented, I’m totally jealous.” 

Frank, however, had absolutely zero concept of sketchbook etiquette because he then decided to flip the page without Gerard’s permission, and just his fucking luck, it was the page where he had decided to draw Frank. The one and only time he had ever drawn someone that wasn’t a made up character. 

Gerard tried to snatch the book from him, but Frank moved it out of the way as he continued looking. “Holy crap, is this a vampire? This is fucking sick, man, didn’t know you were into that stuff.” 

Gerard’s blush from earlier returned, this time with a vengeance. “Uhm yeah, I guess so. Can I have it back, please?” He begged, not wanting to sound too stressed but failing miserably. 

“I’m not done looking, one second.” Frank said, squinting harder at the drawing. “Hey, this kinda looks like me–” 

Frank didn’t get to finish his sentence because Gerard all but crash-tackled him to get the sketchbook back, nearly crushing him as he scrambled to grab the book back from him, snatching it with maybe a little too much aggression. When Gerard had the sketchbook safely in his hands again, he looked at Frank, who was looking at him with a mix of guilt but also a strange admiration.

Gerard coughed awkwardly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snatch it but like, dude. You know it’s rude to go looking at people’s stuff without asking?” 

Frank looked apologetic. “Sorry. I, uh, didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I thought the drawing was amazing though, if that helps?” He offered sheepishly.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

They fell back into another lapse of silence, before Frank spoke up again.

“So, how’s your life been these past few weeks?” He asked. The boys were now sitting back in their original positions, facing out towards the middle of the clearing, side-by-side and not looking at each other. 

Gerard thought about it for a moment before responding. “It’s been kind of nice actually. I’ve made some new friends and they’re really amazing, and Brendon’s more or less left me alone. And you’re ignoring me. Well, you were. And I’m not going to lie to you, I’m kind of really fucking confused why you’re talking to me right now, anyways.”

Frank let out a sad sigh. “I’m sorry. Like seriously. I know from your end it probably doesn’t make any fucking sense, and one day i’ll tell you why, but– that’s a conversation for another time. And, I’ve kind of had a rough few weeks.” He said. “I’m sorry?” He offered, and Gerard could tell that he was being genuine. 

“Meh, It’s fine.” Gerard said, waving away Frank’s apology. “I would ask you how you’ve been but uhm, I kinda get the idea.”

Frank laughed. “Yeah pretty much.” He then turned to face Gerard. “Hey, is the scratching in your walls still happening?”

For a moment, Gerard just stared at him. Firstly, he hadn’t told anyone about the creepy ass scratching sounds that came from the wall near the window, and the way that it started up as soon as the sun set and didn’t subside until the sunlight would stream through the window and onto the floor. Secondly, he was sure as hell if he had told anyone at all about it, his first choice would not have been Frank.

“Uhm, what? How do you know about that?” Gerard asked, genuinely puzzled and slightly freaked out that he might have let that slip out, because maybe he was also losing his memory, along with Mikey, and then he started freaking out even more, because if he couldn’t remember telling Frank about the scratching, then God knows what else he told him about.

Frank’s eyes widened and he looked slightly panicked. “Oh, uhm- you… told me about it?” His voice climbed higher at the end of the sentence, making it sound more like a question than a statement.

For a good ten seconds, Gerard just stared at Frank intently, searching his eyes. Whatever he was looking for, -and whatever it was, he had no idea-, he didn’t find, so he adverted his gaze and admitted defeat.

“Oh, yeah. Uhm, No. I mean yes, the scratching is still going. It’s really creeping me out.” Gerard said.

Frank nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t know how you still go to sleep with that, if I were you I would have permanently moved downstairs to sleep with my parents or something. You’re braver than me.” He said.

Gerard laughed lightly. “I’m not brave, I’m more just kind of over scary things. Like, they don’t freak me out as much as they just piss me off. I’ve had so much weird shit happen in that house already that I’ve just accepted the fact that there’s a ghost that wants me dead. I’m still alive, though, so I must be doing something right.” He shrugged.

Frank giggled, looking over his shoulder once, before leaning in closer to Gerard and whispering like they were 13 year old girls at a sleepover. “You believe in ghosts?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the smile that was appearing on his face. “I mean, before I moved here? No. But now? Honestly, yes. It’s the only way to explain some of the stuff that’s been going on in my house.” He said.

Frank giggled again. “What’s happening in your house that’s made you so sure that it’s a ghost?”

Gerard ran a hand through his hair. “Well, there was the tap incident from my first night at the house. Although, I originally just chalked it up to being sleep deprived, until I told Mikey about it -he's my brother- and he said it was definitely a ghost.”

“The tap incident?” Frank said, raising an eyebrow.

Gerard ducked his head. “Yeah. I went to take a shower, and one of the taps was boiling hot, although no one but me had been in the bathroom. Burned my fucking hand and everything.” He said, as Frank winced slightly in a grimace. “The weirdest part was, the burn mark disappeared nearly instantly. That’s why I was convinced it was an insomnia-induced hallucination at first, but now I’m not so sure.”

“That’s fucking metal, dude.” Frank said.

“Not the word I would use to describe it, but sure.” Gerard said. “Oh, and I can’t forget the fact that I keep seeing shadows in the hallway. And of course, the fact that I have a giant hand-print right in the center of my chest and zero idea where it came from.”

Frank’s eyes widened. “You have a what now?”

“A giant hand-print on my chest.” Gerard repeated. “Do you want to see?”

Gerard then immediately turned red as he realised he had just basically offered to take off his shirt in front of Frank, and suddenly it seemed like the most terrifying thing in the entire world, more scary than any touchy-feely ghost or bully at school. 

As if sensing Gerard’s regret, Frank offered him an out. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to…” He trailed off, gaining a blush to match Gerard’s. 

“Ah, whatever,” Gerard said. “In the name of science?” 

He pulled up both his hoodie and his shirt in one go, disturbed by how cold his skin felt suddenly, as Frank stared at the mark in the middle of his chest with so much force he was sure that when he looked again, there would be a giant hole in the center of his sternum, joining the handprint. 

“Oh my Jesus Christ.” Was the only words that came out of Frank’s mouth. His gaze felt like fire against Gerard’s cold skin, and he had to turn away, counting to three before pulling his clothes back down immediately. He could still feel the heat of his eyes against his chest, even with the hoodie back on.

He looked up to see that Frank looked, well, he looked conflicted. For one, his face was so red that Gerard was scared he’d popped a blood vessel or something, but at the same time, something like horror was dancing behind his eyes, mixed with a little bit of dread, and maybe a bit of embarrassment, too. Gerard bit his tongue to keep from asking something really, really stupid.

“It’s weird, right? I think maybe the ghost tried to molest me in my sleep, or something.” Gerard said, attempting humor to try and get rid of the awkward silence that was quickly building.

“That looks. Uhm.” Frank cleared his throat, still not meeting Gerard’s eyes. “Painful?” He offered unhelpfully.

“Well actually, it isn’t even–.” Gerard started, but he was quickly interrupted by Frank standing up.

“Hey look, I’m so super sorry but I gotta go like, right now. Uhm. I’ll talk to you later?” Frank said, all but jumping up from the floor and nearly sprinting out of the clearing. 

Gerard stood up too, feeling a bit like Frank was making an excuse to get away from him, but he didn’t want to dwell on that too much, or even act like he was upset he was leaving. 

“Oh, yeah that’s fine.” Gerard said. “Do what you gotta do, man. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Frank waved dumbly before stepping out from the clearing and into the trees. Less than a second later though, before Gerard even had time to grab his things, he was back.

“Hey uhm, I was kinda having this party at my house, it’s on the weekend right before Halloween, in a couple weeks? I’d love it if you would come but, y’know, you don’t have too.” Frank said, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground.

Gerard blinked. Frank was inviting him to his stupid fucking Halloween party. 

Frank cleared his throat. “It’s also sort of my birthday party, cause I’m born on Halloween. Uh, come if you want?” He said, awkwardly.

Gerard smiled at him even though Frank wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He said, not really thinking but saying the words because it felt like the right thing to say in the moment.

Frank looked up at that, shooting him a dopey smile which made Gerard’s heartbeat flip-flop around in his chest. “Great! Uh, and it’s a Halloween party, so don’t forget to dress up, cause everyone else’ll be wearing something.” He walked away again, for good this time. “Bye!” He called through the trees, and like that, Gerard was alone again, grappling with his own thoughts.

He stayed out in the forest for a little while longer, until it was definitely way too dark and he trudged home, trying to decide if he felt better or worse after his talk with Frank. Eventually, he landed on better.

When he made it home, he grabbed his phone before hopping into bed, and dialed Ray’s number.

“Hey man, what's up?” Ray asked, and Gerard could hear him yawn through the phone.

“Hi Ray,” Gerard said, rubbing his eyes. “just calling you to let you know I made my decision.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line for a second. “About what?” Ray asked.

“I’ll go to the party.”

 

Notes:

Any thoughts, feedback or theories are appreciated! I always love it when people leave comments so please don't hesitate to do so if your heart desires

Chapter 6: Okay, Maybe I Wanna Party

Notes:

Brace yourselves. That's all i have to say. Also, is it obvious i have no idea what people do at parties? please forgive any innaccuracies.

“Mikeyyyy! Come here, I need your help. Like. Now?”

There was silence for a second, and then what sounded like a mix between a frustrated grunt and a heaving sigh, before Gerard could hear Mikey’s thundering footsteps up the stairs.

“Gerard, what the fuck do you want?” He asked, rounding the corner to Gerard’s bedroom and strolling right in without even knocking. Not that he had expected him too.

“I need your advice. Do I look dumb, yes or no?” Gerard asked, standing in front of the small mirror -which wasn’t so dusty anymore, because he had finally cleaned it, saddened to find that it was slightly cracked,- and looking his reflection up and down with disdain.

“You look absolutely ridiculous.” 

Gerard frowned and turned away from the mirror. “Seriously, Mikey? I need you to hype me up, not tell me I look stupid.” He grumbled. “Or I just won’t go.”

Mikey crossed his arms. “No, you’re going. Otherwise you’re never gonna be able to make more friends.” He pretended to sniffle and wipe away a fake tear. “I’m so proud of my big brother, finally doing normal teenage stuff instead of being a shut-in.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Seriously, cut it out. I don’t need anymore friends, the ones I have are great already!” 

“You can never have too many friends, you recluse.” Mikey said.

“Of course that’s coming from someone like you.” Gerard turned back to the mirror to smudge a bit of his eyeliner. “I know you just said I look ridiculous, but like… you think anyone’s gonna think I actually look stupid?” He asked anxiously.

This time, it was Mikey’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re going to a halloween party. Someone’s probably going to be dressed as something ridiculous, I highly doubt you being a… nervous-looking, basement-dwelling vampire or whatever will be the craziest thing there.”

Gerard swallowed. “Yeah… I guess so.”

His costume was very last minute, because despite telling both Frank and Ray he was going, he was certain he was going to cancel last minute, but after he voiced this to Mikey, he was able to talk Gerard out of chickening out. It was going to be good for him, Mikey had said. So, he had riffled through both his mother’s closet and his own, trying to see if he could find anything that he could make into a halloween costume. He had considered just dressing in his normal attire and going as ‘Gerard’ but Mikey also said that was stupid, and that he was being a partypooper. So what if he was? But eventually, he managed to find a really, really old white button up shirt that belonged to his mother, some sort of ugly black coat with a tall collar, and some old fake blood from an art project a million years ago. Put together, he made a really janky and kind of weird-looking vampire, -he didn’t even have any fangs, which in his opinion was literally the only thing that distinguished you between a vampire and being a weirdo- but he didn’t have many other options.

He had also called Ray about three times that evening, checking over and over that he was still coming to pick him up, that he was still going to be wearing a costume, and that it wasn’t going to be some sort of prank where he would show up with all his fake blood and victorian-looking coat and get laughed at. You really are paranoid, Ray had said. Live a little, dude. Gerard wasn’t paranoid, he was just… nervous. Rightfully so. He had no idea how parties were supposed to go, and what people even did at them. From what he had heard from his friends, though, it was a lot of standing around talking to tipsy teenagers and making bad decisions. How that sounded appealing to anyone was a wonder. Gerard told himself he was only going because if he didn’t, then Anthony, Ray and Patrick wouldn’t go, and they seemed really fucking excited. So whatever. If he had to just stand in a corner and awkwardly sip some absolutely disgusting concoction made by a 17-year-old with no bartending skills, then it was worth it to make his friends happy. 

He was still awkwardly looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror with Mikey standing behind him, looking at his cellphone uninterestedly, when he heard a car pull up to their house. 

“Your friend’s here,” Mikey said, still not looking up. “You should go. No, you don’t look stupid. No, your friends aren’t pranking you, and no, you’re not going to die.”

“I wasn’t gonna–”

“Yes, you were.” Mikey said disapprovingly. “Now go, before I have to shove you into the car myself.”

Gerard threw up his middle finger but Mikey had already turned and started walking down the stairs. He quickly rushed down after Mikey, and made it to the bottom just as the doorbell rang. He opened the door to Ray’s smiling face, looking slightly more dopey and the look behind his eyes was slightly more far away than usual.

“Gerard!” Ray said, “Let’s go man, are you ready to par-tay?!” He grabbed Gerard by the wrist and dragged him down the porch stairs, before turning around to the doorway, and locking eyes with Mikey. Gerard wrenched his wrist out of Ray’s hand and rolled his eyes. “I can walk by myself, I’m not three.” He said, glancing up at Ray. But Ray wasn’t looking at him, he was squinting at the doorway, where Mikey was still standing.

“Mikey?” Ray said, his voice slightly disbelieving. “Yo, man I had no idea you were Gerard’s brother, what the fuck?”

Mikey laughed slightly. “Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. My bad. How’s it going, Ray?”

Gerard stared at Ray, and then Mikey, and then Ray again before biting out, “How the fuck do you two know eachother?”

Ray and Mikey shared a glance. “We jam together sometimes,” Ray said. “We were actually gonna try recruiting him to our band, cause we really need a bassist, but he might be too young. Not sure yet. Your brother’s fucking talented, Gerard.”

Gerard blinked and he was sure that his eyes were going to fall out of his skull at this rate. “Mikey?!” He said. “Why did you not tell me that you were having… private… jam… sessions with one of my best friends?”

Mikey grimaced. “It sounds weird when you say it like that. Stop. Am I not allowed to do things on my own accord? I told you I was playing with some other guys and I was thinking about joining a band.” He crossed his arms. “Now stop wasting your friends’ time, and go, for fucks sake.” With that, Mikey closed the door and Gerard jumped slightly. He looked back at Ray, but he just shrugged and offered him a smile.

The two of them walked to the car, and Ray hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gerard jumped into the back, where Anthony was already sitting. Upon seeing him, Anthony smiled so hard Gerard was sure he was going to pull a muscle, before he clapped his hands together loudly, the sound reverberating in the small space. 

“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here! I am. So. Excited.” Anthony said. He then turned to Gerard again and gave him a quick once over. “Yo, what are you supposed to be, again?” He asked.

Gerard winced. Apparently he didn’t do a good enough job getting the message across. “Uhm, a vampire? I think? Don’t judge me, this was mostly my brother’s idea.” He said.

Anthony nodded. “Ohhh okay. Ditch the jacket though. And roll your sleeves up. It may be the middle of fall, but it will be hot in there, trust me.” 

Gerard did as he was told, and then looked at Anthony for approval. “How’s that?” 

Anthony nodded again. “Heaps better. You look great, man. The girls are gonna be all over you.”

Gerard blushed slightly. “God, I hope not.” He then turned his attention to the front of the car. “Ray, what are you? And Patrick are you…”

Gerard trailed off as he only just seemed to process the fact that he couldn’t actually see Patrick. What he could see was a giant, slightly person-shaped blob hidden underneath a white bedsheet, with two eyeholes cut out for Patrick to see out of. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrick asked defensively. “I’m a ghost. And yes, I know this fucking sucks, I didn’t know what else to do, okay?”

Gerard tried to hold back a giggle, but he failed and Patrick turned and sent him a disapproving look through the eyeholes, which only made him laugh harder. “Shut up, okay.” Patrick said. "At least I can hide under here if I embarrass myself.”

“He’s smart for that.” Ray said, not taking his eyes off the road. “If you couldn’t tell by my beautiful costume making skills, I’m supposed to be Beetlejuice.”

Gerard didn’t remember much about Beetlejuice, but he looked at the white and black stripy shirt Ray had on, and the dark circles painted around his eyes and decided that it probably was obvious enough. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now that he was looking, Ray looked kind of scary. 

“And I’m…” Anthony said, trailing off as he started patting the floor, looking for something out of his reach. After a second, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a Ghostface mask. “That guy from Scream! I kinda forgot his name, but I got this for a dollar at the convenience store so whatever.” He brandished the mask in front of Gerard’s face, looking supremely pleased with himself. 

“Are you seriously gonna wear that the whole night?” Gerard asked. “How the fuck do you even see?”

Anthony’s smile faltered slightly. “Uhh…” He began. “I can’t really see that well. Maybe you’ll just have to stop me from bumping into walls and accidentally killing myself.”

“Dont worry,” Ray piped up. “I’ll be on Anthony Watch Duty for the night, because I’m selfless like that.”

“Aw,” Anthony fluttered his eyelashes at the back of Ray’s carseat. “You really know how to treat a girl, Ray.”

Ray rolled his eyes, and was about to speak before Patrick cut him off. “Holy shit. Is that his fucking house?”

They had pulled into a street on the other side of the neighbourhood, where all of the really rich people in the town lived. The sun had nearly set completely already, bathing the neighborhood in a muted, orangey glow, and along the road there were about 20 different cars already parked, teenagers milling around both the street itself and one particular house that he guessed was Frank’s. It was giant, two stories, with probably the biggest window he had ever seen on a house right in the center, and he could see a gigantic staircase through it. There were cutesy halloween decorations placed sporadically across the giant front lawn, and the large doorway had a sign with a cartoon graphic of a little pumpkin, smiling and saying “ Welcome!”.

“What the fuck,” Gerard breathed. “How rich is this guy?” 

“No idea,” Ray said, parking the car and opening the door. “Pretty sure his parents are some sort of government officials, though. Enough staring though, let’s go.”

Gerard, Anthony and Patrick clambered out of the car, and the cold wind immediately brought goosebumps to the tops of Gerard’s skin, and he brought his arms around himself in an effort to stop the chill from sinking in too quickly. The amount of people that he could see outside already made him feel slightly ill, he couldn’t imagine what being inside would do to him. He might actually fucking throw up. 

Before he had any time to reconsider his decision and sprint home, the other guys were already strolling across the street towards the house, and Gerard scrambled to keep up with them. He stayed behind Ray and Anthony, and walked next to Patrick, who seemed oblivious to Gerard’s apprehension that he could feel himself radiating off in waves. As they got closer, he realised that there was a boy standing at the door, letting people in by checking a list. There was no fucking way this stupid party was important enough to have a bouncer, for fuck’s sake. The guy didn’t look like your typical bouncer either, he was tall but skinny, and Gerard couldn’t even see his face beneath his brown hair.

Ray turned to the rest of them before the bouncer guy was in earshot, and he whispered to all of them with his eyes narrowed like he was letting them in on the plans for a secret spy mission. “Listen, I’m going to distract Ryan, you guys sneak in while I’m talking to him. You have to be quick, and you have to be quiet. You hear me?”

The boys nodded, Anthony still wearing his trademark stupid smile, and Patrick– well, he had no idea what Patrick’s expression was because he was still wearing that stupid bedsheet on his head. Gerard tried to give Ray his most reassuring nod, but he was still considering just bolting, stealing Ray’s car and speeding home. 

Ray turned back around, and sashayed– yes, he fucking sauntered- over to the boy, the others following him close behind. 

“Hey there, Ryan! How’s it going, man?” Ray said, casually. 

Ryan looked up from his list with a smile. “Ray! Glad you could make it. I’m doing well, or– I would be if Brendon didn’t put me on fucking bouncer duty. As if I could take anyone here in a fight! He knows that too.” Ryan let out a tired sigh, before noticing the three other boys nearly cowering behind Ray. “Uhm. Who are these people, Ray?”

Ray really was friends with everyone, it seemed.

Ray took a glance behind him, and with his eyes he signaled go. He looked back at Ryan with a huge smile. “These are my buddies, they’re super chill so don’t worry.”

He elbowed Patrick, who was standing closest to Ray. “Hey, I’ll meet you guys inside in a second.” At the queue, Patrick and Anthony snuck away, just as Ryan began to protest. “Hey, I don’t know if they’re on the–”

“I talked to Frank, don’t even worry.” Ray said, throwing Ryan his most reassuring smile yet. Ryan looked conflicted for a moment, before Ray clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you inside, see ya!” Before walking away.

It was only when Gerard and Ryan locked eyes that Gerard realised he might just be the biggest idiot of all time. He realised he did in fact recognise Ryan, he was Frank and Brendon’s friend, -and knowing that fact didn’t sit comfortably with him, he doubted his chances of Ryan showing him mercy. He also was still standing in the same spot where his friends had just been, and he hadn't snuck away with him. Good going, Gerard.

“Uhm. Hello?” Gerard said, going for casual but ending up somewhere between panic and apprehension.

“Name?” Ryan said, staring at him blankly.

“Gerard?” He said, silently sending a prayer up to whoever was listening that Ryan wouldn’t cause a scene when he realised that he was the guy from school that he had partaken in bullying on more than one occasion.  

Something flickered behind Ryan’s eyes, going from suspicion, to surprise and maybe a bit of shock. “ You’re Gerard? What the fuck!” He said, suddenly whipping his head around checking to see if anyone was watching the two of them. “Holy fucking shit. Dude, I didn’t realise that it was you that Brendon kept picking on. He never told me your name. I wouldn’t have done that if I knew it was you. Seriously man, I’m sorry.”

Gerard stared back at him, thoroughly confused. What the hell was Ryan on about? Firstly, there was no way he hadn’t heard Brendon say Gerard’s name before, either Ryan was lying, or he was seriously just stupid. Secondly, what did he mean by ‘I didn’t realise it was you’ ? What was important or noteworthy about him that warranted him saying it in such a way?

Gerard blinked once, coming back to himself again. “Uh. Thanks? Am I allowed in?” He asked, unsure of what to say or do.

Ryan smiled a little bit at that. “Yeah, sure man. Frankie’s told me a lot about you. Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” He then over-exgaggeratedly winked at Gerard, and shoved him through the door. 

For a moment, Gerard just stood in the doorway, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Ryan was seriously a weird guy. Before he had any time to think about anything, Ray was at his side, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the corner of the giant living room he realised he was now standing in. It was overflowing with people from his school, most of them he wasn’t able to recognise, however. There was loud music playing, and people walked around with plastic cups and beer bottles and—

“Yo, are you good?” Ray asked, and it took Gerard a second to realise that he was speaking to him.

“Oh!” Gerard said, shaking himself out of his weird catatonic state. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Ray glanced over his shoulder. “How the fuck did you get Ryan to let you in?”

Gerard pondered this for a second, because he honestly had no idea himself. “I don’t know. I told him my name and he was all like ‘oh god, I didn’t know you were Gerard! Frankie’s said stuff about you’ or whatever. Totally fucking weird.”

Ray’s eyes narrowed for a second, before his expression melted back into his usual easy-going calmness that Gerard was so familiar with. “Well, that’s typical Ryan, he’s just like that. Whatever, come with me.”

Gerard didn’t have time to respond because Ray was dragging him over to the kitchen area, where there was a couple of guys standing near the island in the middle, pouring something from a bottle into a few tiny shot glasses. Ray clapped the guy pouring stuff on the back, and he jumped slightly before smiling. He introduced himself to Gerard, and then offered him a shot. Gerard was about to refuse, before Ray shot him a pleading look. He didn’t want to upset his friends, and the guy -Bob- was also looking at him with a slightly evil smile, so he took the glass and downed it in one go. Alcohol was as disgusting as he remembered, the liquid was cold but it may as well have been hot with the way it burned his throat, and he could feel it slide down into his stomach and his eyes watered slightly. Ray laughed and Gerard couldn’t help but smile, despite that his mouth felt like he had just taken a flamethrower to the inside of it and then doused it with lemon juice. 

Bob picked up another one, this time with a slightly darker coloured liquid inside, and handed it to Gerard. “For courage,” He said, before downing a matching one. Apprehensively, Gerard also swallowed his. 

It seemed like Ray was having a good time talking with Bob and the other guys, and Gerard had no idea where Anthony and Patrick was, so he stood next to Ray for God knows how long, Bob handing him more and more shots until he lost count, and his mouth felt dry but simultaneously wet with the saliva pooling under his tongue, like he was about to throw up. His whole body felt warm and cold at the same time, and he seriously had to thank Anthony for telling Gerard to take his coat off, because if he was still wearing that thing, he might have passed out. There was a slight buzz running through his blood stream, and his fingers and toes felt strange, like when he moved them he was watching someone else’s body move. It was kinda weird, kinda cool. 

Eventually, he mumbled something to Ray and Bob about needing the bathroom, and started walking away in search of said bathroom. However, he had absolutely zero idea where the bathroom was, especially in a house this big, and moving felt like he was controlling a giant puppet, and his brain was trapped inside. He eventually ended up standing in a corner of the living room, just observing everyone milling around and socialising. It was kind of fascinating, like he was watching a nature documentary on TV, but instead of wild animals it was a bunch of rich teenagers from a town in the middle of nowhere.

As he was standing in his corner, something caught his eye. It was a boy, stumbling through the crowd of people towards Gerard, giggling out an apology when he bumped into someone. As he got closer, Gerard squinted into the dark, trying to make out his face, but he was moving too quickly and his eyes couldn’t keep up with the boy. 

Turns out, it was Frank, and as he stepped up to where Gerard was standing, he gasped in a shallow breath. His brain wasn’t moving fast enough to try and figure out who or what he was dressed as, but his brain was moving fast enough to be able to appreciate just how good Frank looked. His dark fringe was styled out of his face, and the pieces of hair next to his ears curled delicately, and Gerard couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. His eyes looked huge in the darkness, ringed with some sort of messy eyeliner, and he had two crosses over either of his eyes. His usual silver lip ring was switched out with a black one, and Gerard noticed he was wearing… something, but he couldn’t really tell because of how dark the room was, but he could see Frank’s exposed biceps, and he forced all of his willpower into not looking. 

“Hey! I’m so happy you’re here.” Frank giggled, staring right into Gerard’s eyes. Reminiscent of their weird encounter in the doorway of their English class, Gerard felt a strange feeling wash over himself as he allowed himself to hold eye contact. However, this time it was less cold, and tasted less of all encompassing darkness, -instead it felt warmer, and more like there was a line of electricity connecting the two of them, buzzing sharply in his chest. Maybe it had something to do with the alcohol. 

“Hi,” Gerard breathed. “Happy Birthday! I think? I can’t really… It’s your birthday today, right? Halloween?”

Frank’s smile grew wider and he then broke eye contact to stare down at his toes. “Yeah, thanks! I didn’t know if you’d remember…” 

Gerard mustered all of his strength and put a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Of course I did.” He tried biting his tongue, but the next words came out of his mouth without his permission. Rude. “You look uhm… really good?” He said, the words sounding funny in his head and coming out more earnest than he would have wanted.

Frank giggled again, high pitched and girlish, and looked up at Gerard again. “Aww, you’re too sweet.” He grabbed Gerard’s hand to lead him over to where there was a group of people sitting in a circle, in the corner of the living room. “Come on, handsome, let’s play Truth or Dare.”

Gerard felt betrayed by his own body when his cheeks started warming, and it felt like every ounce of feeling was concentrated on the place where Frank was holding his hand, and he bit back a smile. He didn’t really want to play Truth or Dare, but if it meant Frank would hold his hand, then maybe he could let it slide.

The people in the circle shuffled over to make room for the two of them, and he realised that he actually recognised everyone here for once, the majority of the people were from his English class, including the three girls who sat at his table with him and Ray. He recognised one boy from his art class. He also realised that Anthony was sitting opposite him, holding onto the hand of a girl with brown hair, who had her head resting on his shoulder. Gerard supposed he was happy for him or something, but he couldn’t focus on that, because Frank still had Gerard’s hand in his grip and it was hard for him to pay attention to anything else. Frank seemingly realised this at the same time Gerard did, because he loosened his grip and let go, much to Gerard’s dismay. He grumbled at the floor quietly and Frank looked at him, something playful dancing behind his hazel eyes.

A guy with hair that had been spray-painted blue coughed to get everyone’s attention, and he began explaining the rules of the game. You take turns asking a person of your choice Truth or Dare, and if they refuse, they have to take a shot. Simple enough. 

The guy sitting next to Anthony started, daring one of the girls from his English class to take her shirt off, to which she violently refused, and almost jumped at the small array of shot glasses that were sitting on the floor with the urgency to drink. Someone dared Anthony to run down the street naked, and he actually did it, much to Gerard’s disbelief, and he couldn’t believe that Ray and Patrick weren’t witnessing this. Anthony looked so proud of himself afterwards, but the girl he had been holding hands with wrinkled her nose and disappeared, which dampened his mood and he decided he was done with Truth or Dare. Gerard was also done with Truth or Dare, and he could have followed after Anthony, but a part of him, -a really, really stupid part- didn’t want to leave Frank’s side. The whole game, he had been nudging him with his shoulder and whispering cheeky comments, and throwing him glances that could almost be interpreted as flirty. But they weren’t, because Frank didn’t like Gerard like that. 

Eventually, Gerard was no longer able hide his existence from everyone else by hiding behind Frank, because a girl -who’s name he learned was Lani-, asked him Truth or Dare. He chose truth, of course, -he wasn’t willing to succumb to the same fate as Anthony-, much to the displeasure of everyone sitting in the circle, who called him boring.

“Don’t worry,” said Lani. “I’ll just have to make my question good, then.” She turned to her friend, who whispered something in her ear, and the girl giggled evilly.

She turned back to Gerard. “Have you ever had a sex dream about anyone from school?”

Gerard felt his head try to kick back into gear as he processed her question, and he felt himself blush, which really would not help him in defending himself. The truth was, he hadn’t, but he also had a feeling that that was not the answer that Lani or anyone else in the circle wanted to hear, they wanted a juicy, gossipy thing to gasp at. Not a boring truth, despite how humiliating it might be. He stole a quick glance at Frank to gauge his reaction, but he was looking at the floor.

Gerard could hear people giggling at how long he took to respond, and eventually his brain landed on getting strangled “Yeah,” and the girls gasped, and then almost immediately moved onto whoever was next. He didn’t really know why he had even said yes, he had no motivation for getting anyone to like him and honestly, admitting to something like that probably wasn’t going to help. However, neither would him saying no, he reasoned. 

After that, someone dared Frank to go and mess with Brendon, and he happily obliged. Everyone from the circle sat and watched the other side of the room, where Frank walked over to where Brendon was standing, talking to a girl with while holding a cup in his hand. Frank said something to Brendon that no-one could hear, but obviously Brendon didn’t like it, because he fixed Frank with a lethal glare, and the girl left. Frank started laughing, so loudly that they could hear it on the other side of the room, and said something else which left Brendon even more pissed. At that point, Frank decided to run back over, and Brendon followed for a second, shouting, “Why, you little shit get back here–” before he seemed to notice the group of people sitting there. Frank punched him lightly in the shoulder and said, “Sorry dude, I was dared. Don’t take it personally!” and fell into a fit of giggles. Brendon’s expression remained stormy, but he straightened his back and stalked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Eventually, everyone got bored of the game and Gerard really needed to get some fresh air outside, so he got up and tried to find his way outside, and he ended up on Frank’s back porch, looking out into the perfectly manicured backyard. No one was out there with him, which was slightly surprising, but he guessed that maybe everyone just liked hanging out inside or on the front lawn. 

He stood there, leaning on the railing of the porch and looking up into the night sky for a while, taking slow, deep breaths and trying to focus on the feeling of the air on his skin. The longer he was outside, the more he could feel his limbs, and it felt like the chill was cutting through the fog that had settled over his brain. 

He was startled out of his calmness by the sound of the door to the backyard opening. He turned around to see Frank. Of-fucking-course it was him. Who else was it that had a freaky sense for somehow being able to find Gerard at all times?

“Hey,” Frank said, walking over to Gerard and pulling something out of his pocket, looking up at the sky. It was a box of cigarettes, and he also produced a lighter, and lit the end of a cigarette before putting in his mouth and taking in a deep, satisfied inhale. “Much better.” He said.

Gerard continued his staring contest with the sky. “Why are you out here?” He asked.

“Smoke break,” Frank said. “And I thought you might be out here.” He admitted, slightly quieter, like he was embarrassed to admit it. He waved the cigarette in front of Gerard’s face to get his attention. “You want?”

Gerard shook his head. “Nah. I would, but I’m, y’know– doctors told me not too. Also told me not to drink, but oh well.” 

Frank nodded silently, taking another inhale and blowing out smoke. Gerard watched it dance through the air, the pale tendrils of the smoke illuminated by the moonlight, before it dissipated into the night sky, forever swallowed by the darkness.

“So, who was it about?” Frank asked.

“Huh?” Gerard said, turning to face him, confused. “Who was what?”

Frank smirked. “Y’know, your sex dream that you admitted to?”

Oh. Gerard swallowed. “I didn’t– I was lying. I didn’t actually, I was just saying that to get a reaction.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I totally believe that.” His tone was teasing, but underneath all of that, Gerard caught a note of something else that he didn’t quite understand. 

When Gerard didn’t respond, Frank tried again. “Hey, I like your costume. But uh–” He started. “What actually are you?”

Gerard smiled a little bit at that. “I did a terrible job, didn’t I? No one’s been able to guess, you can blame Mikey for that though, he was the one who told me it looked alright.”

“No, wait, I can guess. Let me think.” Frank said, putting a hand on his chin thoughtfully, holding his arm with his cigarette out over the balcony. “You’re… a zombie accountant?”

Gerard let out a real, loud laugh at that, and he felt something inside him jump around when he saw the enamoured look on Frank’s face. “No! But, I can see how you got that impression. Try again. Less obscure.”

Frank nodded and narrowed his eyes exaggeratedly. “Hmm… you are…” His eyes raked up and down Gerard’s body, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit uncomfortable under his gaze, because for some strange reason every time Frank looked at him, it was like he could feel it. Sure, it was less intense than that time he was staring holes into the back of Gerard’s head in English, but it still felt almost like Frank was touching him, but without actually touching him. It was weird, and made his head spin.

“I don’t know. You win.”

Gerard grinned. “Hah! Actually, I don’t know why I’m laughing, cause it means I failed at making my costume, but like– whatever.”

Frank returned his smile. “But what are you? Actually?”

Gerard didn’t know if it was the fact that Frank was so close to him, or if it was the fact that he had already consumed copious amounts of alcohol that night, but he felt a bit giddy and silly, and he felt like something in his chest was pulling him closer and closer towards Frank, like the two of them were connected by a string.

He leaned in, closer to Frank’s face, who was looking at him with wide eyes, his gaze darting around Gerard’s face as if he didn’t know what to look at. When Gerard was just inches from Frank, he bit his lip before whispering, “I’m a vampire.” Something flashed behind Frank’s eyes and he swallowed, but the look in his eyes was gone as quick it had appeared, before he tore his head away and laughed. 

Gerard didn’t know why he was laughing so hard, but he felt himself giggle too. Frank turned back to him, and took on the same hushed tone that Gerard had just used on him. “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling. 

Gerard nodded. “Of course.”

Frank smiled, a sly and slightly crazed one, like he was going to tell Gerard something scandalous. “I’m a vampire too.”

There was a moment of silence where Gerard was looking at him, and Frank looked completely and utterly serious, and for a second, he nearly believed him. Which was stupid. Gerard laughed again. “You’re silly, Frankie. There can only be one vampire around here, and it’s me.”

Frank raised an eyebrow, amused. “Frankie? Didn’t know we were on nickname basis now–”

“No!” Gerard said, his face red. “I– well, when I spoke to Ryan he called you Frankie and then it was just in the back of my head like, oh that’s such a stupid nickname but it’s kinda cute and also like–”

Frank cut off his stupid rambling by saying, “When did you speak to Ryan?” He looked slightly confused and maybe even anxious. “What did he say about me?”

Gerard blew out a breath. “Uh, at the door when he was trying to be a bouncer or whatever. He asked me my name and when I told him he got all crazy, and said that he didn’t know that I was Gerard, and then said ‘Frankie’s told me a lot about you’ or something like that, I don’t know. He was acting weird.”

Frank’s eyes widened so hard Gerard thought they might fall out. “Fuck. I’m gonna kill him, what the hell.” He rubbed a hand over his face, smudging the crosses over his eyes. “Ignore him, please, whatever he says. He just says things for the sake of saying them. Don’t listen.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, Frankie." He paused. "Can I call you that? Or is that weird?”

Frank smiled shyly. “You can call me whatever you would like.”

There was a lull in conversation then, and while the silence was comfortable, Gerard felt the unfamiliar urge to fill the quiet with words. Usually he was the kind of guy to revel in silence, but it felt like his mind was buzzing for things to say to Frank, and he couldn’t keep fighting his traitorous mouth much longer.

“Your house is huge.”

Frank snorted. “Thanks? I can’t tell if that’s a criticism or not.”

“Just an observation.” Gerard said. “Where’d you get all this money from? Is your family rich?” Probably an invasive question to ask, but what the hell. There wasn’t much more he could fuck up. 

“It’s not my house, not really. I live here but–,” Frank paused, looking over his shoulder. “You remember when I told you my parents got in an accident, and I was the only one who survived? Well, obviously they’re not around. I got adopted by Brendon’s family, so technically this is their house.”

Gerard’s eyes widened at the realization. “You and Brendon are… adoptive brothers?”

Frank nodded solemnly. “Yep. Although…” He looked conflicted for a moment, before making a decision in his head. “Listen, I don’t know why I’m telling you this and I probably shouldn’t because he’s already pissed at me and if this gets out I am so. Dead . But I’m really only friends with Brendon cause we live together. I don’t really care for the guy, but that’s probably because he’s an asshole and has the personality of a plank of wood.”

Gerard gaped at him. “Seriously? I thought you guys were like… best friends?” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “That’s what I need him to believe. I only tolerate him because if I don’t, then there’s a good chance his parents will kick me out and I’ll be living on the street. So…”

Gerard flailed his hands. “That’s ridiculous! Seriously, they’re the kind of people to just kick out a teenager because he doesn’t like their asshole son?!”

“Shh!” Frank said, glancing over his shoulder. “Quiet. Like I said, if he hears this I am dead, I’m telling you. And it’s really not that bad, I have other friends. It’s just that– all Brendon has is me and Ryan, because we’re the only two people in this whole town who actually tolerate him.” 

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s just life.” Frank said, shrugging. 

“I guess so,” Gerard sighs. “That sucks though. How is it, living with him?”

Frank snorted. “Kinda funny, actually. You should see the way he acts when his dad’s mad at him. He has tantrums like a toddler who’s just been told the world’s ending. It’s fucking hilarious.”

Gerard laughed quietly, imagining Brendon throwing a fit. It was funny, and honestly not that difficult to imagine. Frank was looking at the sky, blowing out smoke from his lungs, and Gerard took a silent moment to appreciate how beautiful it was. He had given up trying to fight his crush on Frank weeks ago, and honestly now that he was able to admit it to himself and stop trying to fight the thoughts of him that invaded his brain, it kind of made everything more exciting. He wished he had a camera installed behind his eyes so that he could take a picture of what he was seeing, so that he could look at it later. Frank looked otherworldly in the moonlight, and Gerard felt such an intense longing that he was sure he was going to explode, right there, right then, on Frank’s back porch. The thought made him giggle out loud and Frank turned to look at him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What? I really look that stupid that you’re laughing at me?” He asked, leaning one arm on the railing and facing towards Gerard, mirroring his pose.

Gerard shook his head, smiling. “How many people have told you that you’re beautiful?” He asked, feeling strangely brave and daring. 

Frank looked surprised for a second, and Gerard could see his ears turning red. “Uhm… no-one? I’ve been called hot, handsome, all that but… not beautiful?” He coughed awkwardly but Gerard could see him smiling. 

Gerard leaned closer, and the logical part of his brain was screaming for him to stop, and back away and go back inside to his friends. The other part of his head, however, and his heart, were pulling him forwards, and he couldn’t seem to resist it. “I’ll be the first, then.” He declared. “Frankie, you’re beautiful. Really.”

Gerard still had no idea what he was doing, the only thing he was sure of was the fact that he wanted– needed Frank, this slightly mysterious, beautiful guy that he couldn’t seem to figure out. The only things he could hear was his heart beating in his ears, and Frank’s shallow breathing. "Yeah?" Frank asked, breathlessly.

He was also aware of the fact that they were suddenly very, very close, and despite the fact that he could still feel the coldness of the wind on his skin, it felt like the only thing he could feel was Frank’s warm breath close to his mouth, warming up not only his face but his insides, spreading heat throughout his body from the top of his head all the way to his toes. It felt like his brain was about to short circuit, and he felt a crackle of electricity in his chest, like literal sparks were sprouting out his chest. 

Just as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips brushed Frank’s he felt something inside him snap, the sparks which had been building in his chest exploded and he jumped back like he had just been electrocuted. It damn well felt like it! He held onto the railing of the balcony, breathing heavily, looking at Frank with big eyes, his heart beating quickly and irregularly, and he was sure that he was about to have a heart attack and fucking die. Frank wasn’t looking at him, though, rather looking a bit further down. Gerard followed his gaze and if there was any more breath left in his lungs, it would have been knocked out. 

There was a thin, sparkling crackle of electricity that looked like a string, connecting Frank and Gerard by the chest. It burnt bright white for a second, so bright that Gerard had to fight the urge to cover his eyes, before it dissipated into nothing, both of the boys silent and still staring at the space where it had just been in absolute horror. For a second, neither of them spoke as they locked eyes, both wearing matching expressions that communicated one thing; What the fuck. 

Before Gerard could say those words outloud, they were said by an obnoxious, nasally voice that came from somewhere behind him.

“What the fuck.” The voice said again. This time, both Gerard and Frank unfroze, and they turned to see Brendon standing in the doorway, watching both of them with his mouth open.

Frank cleared his throat lightly. “Uhm.”

Gerard still stood clutching the railing like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Which honestly, it might have been. He was trying desperately to calm his breathing, but when he looked at Brendon, the amount of anger and horror in his eyes was enough to make him feel like he was going to start throwing up all over the floor of his rich boy porch.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Brendon yelled, anger screwing up his features as he took a long step towards the both of them. “Are you fucking serious?”

Gerard’s head swam as Brendon took another step, and then another, sidestepping Frank, who looked like he was about to cry or scream, or maybe both. Brendon finally ended up standing over Gerard, who was still silent.

“You,” Brendon started, taking in one long, shaky breath. “Are taking everything from me. First you show up and steal my best friend, and now you’re turning him into a fucking fag?! Huh? What the fuck is your problem!”

“I’m not–” Gerard started, but he didn’t have the chance to finish because Brendon’s fist connected with his nose, and suddenly he was on the floor. He howled out in pain and grasped at his face, his hand coming away red and slick with blood. His stomach lurched and he was almost certain that this time he was actually going to throw up. He tried wrenching himself up off the floor, but Brendon delivered a kick to his ribs that made him double over in pain, and he braced for another but he could see Frank grabbing onto the back of Brendon’s shirt and yanking him away out of the corner of his eyes.

His vision swam and his face throbbed painfully, but he managed to pull himself off the floor, and his only objective was to get the fuck away. Brendon was still hurling insults at both him and Frank, but it looked like he wasn’t hitting Frank, infact it was the other way around, Frank was throwing punches at him, so that was good, he supposed. He couldn’t really think, because taking in a breath through his lungs felt like he was getting kicked again, and the lack of oxygen going up to his brain was making him feel woozy.

He somehow managed to stumble his way back inside, and he looked around desperately trying to see if he could spot Ray or Anthony or Patrick or someone, hoping they would notice the way he was fucking bleeding from the face, but he nearly cried when he remembered it was a Halloween costume party, and seeing blood on someone’s face wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Admitting defeat, he found the corner he had stood in at the beginning of the night, and slumped against it, sliding down the wall awkwardly and still holding his face in his hands to try and stop the bleeding. It didn’t work, though. 

He ended up passing out, or he guessed that he did because he woke up to someone shaking his shoulders, their voice hushed and concerned.

“Gerard? Are you okay? Are you awake? What the fuck happened to you?” The voice said.

Gerard slowly opened his eyes and he saw Patrick, who was looking him over worriedly.

He forced out a weak smile. “Hey, Patrick…I’m…Okay?” 

Patrick shook his head. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

He then grabbed Gerard’s arm and hauled him up off the floor and onto his feet, and he swayed a little bit, a combination of being still slightly drunk, having been punched in the face, and because he had just woken up from being passed out. Patrick led him outside, and as they stepped through the front door, Gerard started remembering what had just happened.

“Wait,” Gerard mumbled, trying to break free of Patrick’s grasp but failing. “I need to see if Frank’s okay…”

Patrick ignored him and they kept walking until they finally reached Ray’s car, finding an anxious-looking Ray in the driver's seat, along with a seemingly shitfaced Anthony in the back. Patrick tried to help Gerard into the car, but he waved him off. 

“Are you okay?” Ray asked.

“No.”

Ray sighed. “Okay. I know what’ll fix this.”

It turned out that Ray’s idea of ‘fixing this’ was to take the boys to the one and only 24 hour diner in the town to get ice cream. The waitress at the door had looked slightly concerned at their appearances, -Gerard could only imagine how scary they all looked, especially Ray, his facepaint smudged making him look like a corpse, and his hair more unruly than usual- but she let them in anyways. They slid into a booth at the very back of the restaurant, and Ray ordered them all one serving of vanilla ice cream, because ‘ice cream fixes everything’, apparently. Gerard didn’t know if it would fix his broken nose, though.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, before Patrick started speaking. “Do you wanna tell us what happened?” He asked.

Gerard sighed, and then winced because his lungs and his nose still hurt. “Brendon punched me in the face.” 

Ray’s eyes widened, and Patrick scowled.

“I’m gonna fuck him up,” Anthony said, the first words he had spoken since Gerard had seen him. “ He’s going to have to be the one who’s gotta watch out.”

Patrick, ignoring Anthony, continued. “What’d you do to deserve that? In saying that, though, you gotta assume that Brendon does anything that’s deserved. He just punches people 'cause he’s an asshole.”

While Gerard was sure that if he told his friends that he was not only into guys, but into Frank, they would probably be supportive, there was still a part of him that was hesitant to say that they had nearly kissed. He also didn’t want to lie to them, either.

“Saw me and Frank outside, and then got all mad, came up to me and said I was stealing his best friend from him, and then punched me. I don’t know why he was so mad.” He said.

“What were you doing outside with–” Ray started, but he was cut off by Patrick, who could obviously see the anxiety in Gerard’s eyes.

“He’s such an asshole. Fucking hell. Brendon’s just mad that Frank’s good at making friends, and because there’s like maybe 2 people in the whole world that actually put up with him,” Patrick said, taking another spoonful of ice cream from his bowl. “He needs anger management classes. That, or someone needs to tell him that punching someone shouldn’t be your first reaction when you feel the slightest bit of negative emotions.”

“I agree.” Anthony said. “I don’t like a lot of people, but you don’t see me going around and punching them.” 

“Well, there was that one time when–”

“Shut up and eat your ice cream, Ray. That was years ago. Seriously.” Anthony said, rolling his eyes. 

The two continued bickering while Gerard and Patrick ate their ice cream in silence, just listening to their conversation. 

“How’s your face?” Patrick asked.

Gerard winced. “I think my nose is broken. Well, I can’t really feel anything. It seems like it should be hurting but when I touch it, I can't even feel it.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “What the fuck? We need to take you to a hospital then, Gerard! Why didn’t you say anything beforehand?”

Gerard waved him away dismissively. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Patrick looked at Ray and Anthony for support. “Guys, surely he needs medical attention, right?” He said, glancing between the two of them nervously, and then back to Gerard.

Ray shrugged. “Where do you want me to take him at 2 in the morning?”

Both Gerard and Patrick gasped. “It’s two in the morning?!” Gerard said, at the same time Patrick spat out, “The fucking hospital?! Where else?!”

“Shit.” Gerard said, slumping over in his seat. “My mom’s gonna be so pissed, I told her I’d be back at midnight. She’s never gonna let me go out again.”

“Maybe it’s for the best?” Anthony said, offering Gerard a sheepish smile.

“Shut up.” He mumbled.

“Uhm, hello?!” Patrick said, voice tight and waving his arms around like a crazy person. “We should be taking him to the hospital! He can’t feel his face! Why are you guys not worried about this at all?!”

“I’m fine, Patrick.” Gerard said. “I can deal with this tomorrow. But right now, I need to get back home before my mom re-breaks my nose.”

Anthony looked upset. “Your mom hits you?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “No, I was joking, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Patrick slammed a fist down on the table, and everyone jumped. “What, you’re just gonna go home to your poor mother with a fucking broken nose and blood all over your face at 2 in the morning? The least you could do is get it cleaned up so she doesn’t have even more of a heart attack than she already will!” 

“I’m not going to the fucking hospital.” Gerard said.

“Yes, you are.” Patrick replied.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m–”

“Holy fucking shit, you two,” Ray said. “Stop arguing like toddlers. I’ll take Gerard to the fucking hospital, okay? But I’m taking you two home first.” He glared at Patrick, who was opening his mouth to say something. “No buts. Get in the car before I throw the ice cream at all of you.” 

Gerard nodded and got up slowly, feeling slightly like he had just been yelled at by his dad. While Ray was inside paying, he sat in the car with Anthony and Patrick with his head down.

“I’m sorry.” Patrick said. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Gerard shrugged. “It’s fine. I know you guys care about me. Which is probably a good thing, because I’m not very good at caring for myself.”

Patrick nodded. 

“We care about you, yeah?” Anthony said. “Really. And I’m glad you joined our group. It felt like something was missing before, and now you’ve kinda filled that hole, y’know? So yeah.” He groaned. “Sorry, I’m not the best at words.”

Gerard smiled despite the fact that smiling made the numb patch on his face grow larger. “Thanks, guys.”

They sat in silence until Ray came back to the car. “Patrick, I’m dropping you off first, and then Anthony. Gerard, I hope you’re excited for another trip to your favourite place on earth.” He said dryly. 

After Anthony and Patrick were gone, Gerard hopped into the passenger seat next to Ray, so he didn’t have to sit in the back and feel like Ray was his taxi driver. Their ride to the Dawesbury Hospital was mostly quiet, but Ray put on a smashing pumpkins CD in the background, and ignoring all of the stuff that happened at the party, Gerard almost felt peaceful. But then of course, because his brain hated him, it started replaying the moment that he and Frank had almost kissed. Up until this point, he had thought that his crush on Frank was mostly one sided, despite him deluding himself into thinking that maybe, maybe, there was a small chance he could have liked him back. And like, who goes around touching lips with guys that they don’t like? 

And then of course, there was what happened after, when it felt like a small bomb went off in his chest, and then that weird string of electricity connected the two of them. Maybe he had been hallucinating? But he was sure that Frank had seen it too, and he had looked just as horrified. Whatever. There was time for him to think about that later.

Ray pulled up to the Hospital, and Gerard got out. The two of them walked side by side into the ER, and Ray, -bless him,- stayed with Gerard through the whole hour he had to wait before being seen by a nurse. Eventually, they were able to leave, and thankfully Gerard’s nose wasn’t broken, just badly bruised, so the nurse taped it up, cleaned the blood off and he was good to go.

By the time they made it back to Gerard’s house, it was nearly 4 AM, and he was so positive that as soon as he unlocked the front door and tried to walk inside, either his mother would be there ready to kill him, or the ghost that haunted him would drag him down to hell by his ankles. Thankfully, there was no ghost, and also no mom, and he was able to sneak upstairs into his bedroom after saying a goodbye to Ray, -who looked like he had been dragged backwards through a hedge and then beaten with it-, wincing at the creaky top step that always tried to sabotage him. 

When he finally flopped down onto his bed, still wearing his stupid shirt, he let out a long breath, and let sleep pull him under. For once, the scratching was quiet. 

Notes:

Big things coming in the next few chapters, get excited! as always, feel free to leave a comment if you have any feedback or theories.

Chapter 7: Make Damn Sure

Notes:

HELLO EVERYONE!!! i am SO sorry it took me so long to update, i had a severe bout of writers block + i had the flu which sucked but i am BACK!!! i hope you enjoy this chapter, cause after the next one everything falls apart, so enjoy it while it lasts! this one includes (but is not limited to) some angsty teenage brooding, fighting, and of course some sappy stuff cause i felt bad. enjoy!! also title of this chapter is from the taking back sunday song, i had it on repeat for basically the whole time i was writing this one.

November, 2007

 

Gerard might have been going insane.

It had been two, long, painful weeks since Frank’s disastrous Halloween Party, and his spirits hadn’t lifted in the slightest since Brendon punched him in the face. It was kind of pathetic, really, the amount of sulking he was doing. At first, his friends were understanding, -atleast to an extent-, about how he felt, because after all, he had been punched so hard his nose had been on the verge of breaking. Like, ouch! The thing was however, that Gerard wasn’t grouchy over what Brendon had done to him, -it was over what had happened with Frank, and wondering wether or not he had been so drunk that he had hallucinated some sort of strange magical optical illusion or if he was really fucking seeing that crackle of electricity that connected the two of them. And the fact that Frank fucking kissed him, - was it even a real kiss, though?- and that it replayed in his head late at night more times than would be appropriate. The more time that went on, and the more his friends weren’t able to hide their annoyance towards his bad moods, -the more guilty he felt, but he couldn’t bring himself to snap out of it.

It was a Friday in mid November, the sky a dark blanket of grey and the cold so unbearable that his friend group had already admitted defeat, and moved to a secluded area in the back of the cafeteria. Gerard was used to New Jersey winters, which he had thought were cold, however they paled in comparison to whatever was going on in Dawesbury, and he had been wearing the same black-and-grey striped scarf to school despite multiple teachers telling him it was against dress code. The great thing about being a sympathy case, however, was the fact that they barely acted on their threats of detention. 

“Gerard, who do you think would win in a fight?” Anthony asked, snapping Gerard out of his trance where he had been staring out the window blankly for the last 15 minutes, a permanent expression of displeasure stuck on his face. “Me or Mr Fitzgerald?”

“Huh?” Gerard asked, rubbing a hand over his face. “Uhm, you probably. Mr Fitzgerald is an old man. I don’t see how that would be fair.”

“He’s got that cane though,” Ray said thoughtfully. “He could probably knock you out with that thing.”

Anthony frowned. “I’ve got height on him though. And speed. He’s just some old guy. How fast do you seriously think he’s going to be able to swing that cane?”

“He worked in a school for 25 years where he hit kids when they misbehaved, I wouldn’t cross him.” Patrick said. “He would probably spank you or something, and then you’d be too embarrassed to continue fighting him.”

“Mr Fitzgerald would not spank him, Patrick.” Ray said. “That’s just cruel. Do you seriously think he’s got that in him?”

“Well a student is already challenging him to a fight, and he’s accepting , so there’s a possibility that all of his humanity’s gone flying out the window,” Anthony said, chewing with his mouth open sending pieces of food flying onto the table. Gerard grimaced. “Maybe he would spank me!”

“Ew.” Patrick wrinkled his nose. “You sound way too happy about that.”

“I’m not excited about the prospect of him spanking me, ew, I’m just–”

“Can we maybe stop talking about Mr Fitzgerald spanking Anthony?” Gerard said, unwilling to hear any of his friends go on another long-winded tangent about something completely ridiculous. 

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Okay Mr I’m-just-going-to-sit-here-and-mope, what do you suggest we talk about? How about we talk about how you’ve been a touchy bitch for the past two weeks ever since–.”

“Ahem!” Patrick said, shooting Anthony a dirty look between where Gerard and Anthony were staring daggers at each other. “There’s no need for that at this table, okay. This is a table of peace and diplomacy.” He then narrowed his eyebrows at Gerard. “That includes you, by the way. We've had to sit here while you've been moping. We just want to know why you’re acting like this.”

Gerard was too tired to try and defend himself, so he just shrugged.

Ray sighed. “Look, it’ll be easier for us to understand if you’d just tell us what’s got your panties in a bunch, okay? Are you really still upset over Brendon or…?” He raised an eyebrow.

This time it was Gerard who sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes, it is, actually.” Patrick said. “We’re your friends and we want to help, and we can’t help if you don’t tell us what you’re upset about.”

“I don’t need your help.” Gerard spat, getting up from the table and not even bothering to grab his lunch tray. 

“Hey, stop!” Patrick called, but Gerard was already stomping out of the cafeteria.

He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. His friends would forgive him, right? He was just so tired and it felt like all of his patience had dwindled out of his body and his heart was being constricted by rope. It took too much effort to breathe in and out, it took too much effort to pay attention to anyone or anything, and it was definitely too much effort to care about what other people thought about him. He only cared about the opinion of one person, a person who once again was ignoring him. Just like clockwork, Frank once again was pretending he didn’t know Gerard. He even went to the extremes by turning around and walking the other way whenever he saw Gerard. Like, a full 180-degree turn. It was fucking ridiculous, and Gerard wanted nothing more than to grab Frank by the shoulders and shake him until he finally told him why. It just frustrated him more than it upset him, because not knowing what Frank’s deal was irked him to levels that probably weren’t normal.

Gerard didn’t know where he was going after his dramatic exit from the cafeteria, but somehow he found himself outside of the staffroom where Mrs Alle’s desk was. She had told him to come to her if he needed to talk, and hell- it wasn’t like he had anyone else he could talk to. His friends couldn’t know about his thing for Frank, Mikey had enough of his own troubles without having to hear about Gerard’s, and he obviously couldn’t talk to Frank. He knocked once on the door, and it opened to reveal Mrs Alle’s smiling face. She looked slightly surprised to see Gerard there, but she let him inside anyway.

“Gerard!” She said, “How can I help you?”

He took a breath. “Uhm. You said I could come here if I needed to talk, and I needed… some advice?”

She nodded once. “Of course, come sit down.” She led him over to her desk in the corner, and pulled a chair from a table in the middle of the room, motioning for him to sit. “What’s up?”

“My sort-of-friend, sort-of-enemy kind of kissed me at a party while I was possibly having some sort of mental break and hallucinating -or maybe I was just really drunk? But don’t tell my mother that- and now they’ve been ignoring me for two weeks and acting like I don’t exist, and their adoptive brother also kinda beat me up and I can’t tell my friends about it because they hate them.” His words came out fast, and in one breath. There were probably better ways to explain his situation, but he couldn’t be fucked to try and explain it to her from the start.

She blinked. “Oh my. That is a lot to deal with.” She put a hand under her chin thoughtfully. “I know you said this person was avoiding you, but have you gone out of your way to talk to them?”

Gerard bit his lip guiltily. “Well, no… But I was thinking that maybe after their own fucking–”

“Language.”

“--I mean, freaking, brother beat me up, they would come to me first to apologise?”

Mrs Alle nodded. “I mean, that’s a fair enough assumption. However, it’s been what– two weeks now? There’s a good chance that they aren’t going to come to you first.”

“Well–” Gerard started. “I don’t know. I just feel like if they’re the one avoiding me, then they probably know on like– a subconscious level that what happened wasn’t okay, you know? That’s an asshole move ignoring me.” 

“I understand.” She said, “However, to resolve this you won’t get anywhere by blaming them. I think maybe you need to hear their side of the story, which means you’ve got to talk to them first or you two are gonna be stuck in this weird spot where it’s going to be really awkward.”

“But,” Gerard said. “It’s scary. Confronting people.”

She just shrugged. “Maybe they’re thinking the same thing, and that’s why you two haven’t talked. If you want to get anywhere, then you’re going to have to be the bigger person.”

Gerard hung his head in defeat. “I guess you’re right.”

Mrs Alle laughed. “I’m guessing that’s not what you wanted me to say?”

He shook his head guiltily, “I was hoping you would say that they’re also being a stupid idiot, not tell me that I need to man up or whatever.” 

“I’m realistic,” she said. “It’s better to be honest because talking bad about someone won’t get you anywhere.”

Gerard sighed and stood up. “You’re right. Thanks, uhm, I appreciate it?” 

She laughed again. “You’re welcome, Gerard. Next period starts in two minutes, so you should probably leave.” 

During his last two classes before the end of the day, Gerard began plotting his confrontation, and how he would get Frank to speak. He could ambush him as soon as school ended and demand he explain why he was still avoiding him, or throw a basketball at his head to get his attention, or maybe he could corner him in the hallway and make out with him. Although, he suspected that last idea probably wouldn’t help him get any answers. If anything, it would make it worse. Eventually, he cooked up something resembling a plan- He would follow Frank when the bell rang, (not in a creepy way, of course, simply in an observant way) and once they were both out of the school building, then he would corner him and demand he explain himself. It seemed relatively straight-forward, and he promised himself that if he was able to go through with his plan, then he could treat himself to ice cream with Mikey after school. He was a simple man after all, and sugar was a good motivator for him.

With his teacher’s words on being the bigger person and ice cream on the forefront of his mind, he took his time grabbing his things after the bell had rang, making sure that he would leave their English classroom after Frank, who took his damn sweet time getting out. For someone that supposedly hated school, he sure took a long time to actually leave. After telling Ray not to wait for him, -after Gerard had been ignoring him the whole lesson, not out of spite, but more out of guilt-, he waited until Frank had left the classroom, who was very carefully not even looking in his direction, before getting up and leaving.

He kept a fair distance between the two of them as he followed Frank through the school’s hallways, blending in with the crowd of students eager to get out after a long week, before eventually they both ended up in the courtyard. Gerard took the opportunity to get closer to him as Frank stopped to talk to some random kid, closing the distance between them so that there was about five yards between them.

The kid waved goodbye to him, and Frank was about to walk away when Gerard grabbed his shoulder. Frank whipped his head around, an accusatory and annoyed expression on his face, although it almost immediately melted into one of dread as he realised who it was. 

“Uhm..” Frank said, staring at him with wide eyes, before breaking eye contact almost immediately. “Can I help you?”

“We need to talk.” Gerard said, trying to school his expression into something a bit more intimidating, but he was pretty sure that he looked just as scared as Frank did. 

“I don’t think we do.” Frank said, almost instantly managing to rid his face of any fear, instead replacing it with annoyance. Gerard almost couldn’t believe his audacity. He was also kind of jealous of his poker-face abilities.

Frank began walking away again, but Gerard grabbed his arm, yanking him back so forcefully that he nearly fell over. “Stop fucking running away from me! You don’t get to ignore me whenever it's convenient for you.”

Frank furrowed his eyebrows and yanked his arm out of Gerard’s grip. “What the fuck is your problem, man? Leave me alone.” 

Gerard stood there with his mouth slightly open for a second, rage brewing in his chest and flowing through his limbs, and he had to take a deep breath so that he wouldn’t snap Frank’s neck and leave him dead right in the middle of the school courtyard. It was tempting.

He watched Frank walk away again, and this time he didn’t stop him. He silently cursed out whatever God was listening to him, and Mrs Alle with her shitty ass advice, because not only was Frank not speaking to him, he was pissed with him too. Fucking great.

That afternoon, he made good on his promise to take himself and Mikey out for ice cream, but he was stabbing his spoon into his cup with a little too much force and Mikey was beginning to get scared. He looked at his ice cream sadly, feeling a little bit bad that it was having to bear the weight of his foul mood, but he didn’t stop either. When Mikey asked him what was wrong, he had to take a deep breath before he said something that he would later regret.

Eventually, the two of them got home and Mikey had had enough. 

“Seriously Gee, what the fuck is your problem?” He said, squinting his eyes at Gerard as if it would help him see into his brain and figure out what was going on.

“Mikey, leave it.” He said, already walking up the stairs. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Mikey frowned at Gerard’s back with enough power to probably break through a wall if he glowered at it long enough, but he knew better and decided to leave Gerard to mope. As if he hadn’t been doing enough of that already. 

When Gerard got to his bedroom, he flopped onto his bed and all of his emotions he had been keeping at bay for the whole day suddenly hit him like a freight train. He felt tears spring into his eyes, and he blinked up at the ceiling, eyebrows pushed together and his mouth set in a frown. Fuck Frank and his asshole tendencies, honestly. All he did was confuse and upset Gerard, and he was honestly over it. He was over Frank playing with his feelings, over him and his stupid fucking asshole ‘adoptive brother’, over his stupid cute laugh, and over the way he made Gerard feel.

He wasn’t over it, though. He knew himself all too well, and it was fucking annoying. He was unaware of the amount of self-loathing he had been holding back in his mind until he allowed it out, an unpleasant hatred for himself spreading through his body and making him feel sick. He laid in his bed for a while, glaring up at the ceiling fan and wishing it would fall on him and put him out of his misery, and end the running joke that was his life. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if it did fall on him, because the ghost that had been haunting his house since he moved in still had it out for him, it seemed. He had talked to both Mikey and his mom, but apart from thinking the house was a bit creepy, neither of them had been subject to the amount of strange occurrences that Gerard had. It had started out tame, with the weird scratching and the handprint that was still on his chest, but over time it seemed like this ghost really did want him dead. Just a few days beforehand he had been woken up in the middle of the night by his bedside lamp exploding, sending little shards of glass at him and nearly going into his eyes and a week before that his shower curtain rail had fallen on him and nearly knocked him out. There were logical explanations for all of them, of course, like the rail had just been loose and had finally fallen after years of hanging on by a thread, or that there had been an electrical surge that caused the light bulbs to blow out. He wasn’t going to entertain any rational ideas though.

He was still moping when much like the way his lamp exploded, he got an idea that was so smart he surely deserved at least one medal and maybe a pat on the back for his genius. 

He all but leaped out of bed, quickly shoving on a hoodie over his school shirt, then another jacket on top of that, and then changing into jeans, not even bothering to switch out his shoes before nearly sprinting out the front door. It was getting dark already, so he knew that he had to be fast, and as the days got shorter as they approached winter he had once again underestimated how fucking cold it was going to be, -but he didn’t care-, because now he had a plan. 

It took him a little under 20 minutes to walk across the entire town, to the fancier neighbourhood across the bridge and towards where he remembered Frank’s house being. Or at least he thought he remembered, but when he turned down the wrong street again for the third time, he was about to admit defeat and go home. However, he decided to check one last street, a smaller one towards the far end of the neighbourhood, the forest looming behind the row of large houses. Once he had moved past the trees that lined the road, he suddenly recognised where he was. Looking down the street, he saw Frank’s house. It was just as large as he remembered, and as he walked closer, his breath condensing in the air and making a little cloud in front of him, he nearly slapped himself when he realised he had zero plan for what to do now that he was actually here. 

He knew he wanted to confront Frank, somewhere where he couldn’t run away, -but now he had no idea what to do now that he had fucking shown up at his house. He didn’t have his watch, so he had no idea what the actual time was, but he guessed it had to have been nearing 7 PM at this point, so Frank and his family (or it was Brendon’s family too, which still felt kinda weird to think about) were probably having dinner, and here he was -showing up at their house in the darkness to what, confront Frank over ignoring him? There was surely a better way to do it. Although, fuck it. He was already here, there would be no point turning back now and having to walk another 20 minutes back home. Then his possible-case-of-hypothermia would be all for nothing. 

He didn’t allow himself another moment to think about it before he walked up to the front door, the same one he had stood at a few weeks ago when Ryan-the-bouncer was acting all weird. The house didn’t seem to have a doorbell, which was weird, so he knocked as loud as he could on the solid wooden door, sending pain shooting down his hand from his knuckles, and he winced. The neighbourhood was silent, the only sound to be heard was the gentle rustling of the leaves in the wind. Strangely, Frank’s house also seemed completely silent, and for a moment he thought that maybe no-one was home, and that standing here waiting for someone to come answer the door would be stupid. Gerard was already turning around to go back home when the door cracked open, just slightly, so he wasn’t able to see the face of whoever it was that answered.

“Hello?” said the voice. It was feminine, but also slightly scratchy. “Who is it?”

Gerard frowned. “Hi? Is this Frank’s house?” 

There was a pause for a second before the door was shut again, and he heard footsteps retreating. He stood there for around 30 seconds, just staring at the wooden door and wondering what to do next, before he turned around again. He guessed that maybe he just had the wrong house, which was weird, because he could have sworn–

The door then swung open, noisily this time, and Gerard whirled back around for the second time in 30 seconds to see Frank standing in the doorway, one arm holding the doorframe for support and he was staring at Gerard like he was simultaneously the best and worst thing he had ever seen. He was wearing blue pyjama pants with little cartoon ghosts all over them -which was fucking cute-, and a black t-shirt, which was riding up slightly on one side. His hair looked damp, like he had just gotten out of the shower. For a moment, the two boys just stared at each other, before Gerard realised he was the one that came here in the first place, so he should probably explain himself before Frank would come to his senses and slam the door in Gerard’s face. His heart was beating obnoxiously fast, and his adrenaline was pumping through his veins as if he was a naughty dog that had just been chewing up someone’s favourite stuffed animal. He wasn’t, though. He was just some guy standing on the doorstep of another guy, a guy who he happened to like very, very much. Even if that guy didn’t necessarily feel the same way, and probably was about to shut the door.

Gerard cleared his throat. “Uhm. Hello.”

Frank blinked and looked at his feet. “Why are you here?” His tone was flat, and he almost sounded bored, but the shakiness of his breath as he inhaled gave him away. 

“I wanted to talk to you, but you kept running away from me. So I’m here. Where you can’t run away from me.” Gerard said, wincing internally a little. Jesus Christ, way to sound like a fucking creep. 

Frank smiled a little at the floor, but he immediately let it drop off his face. “You came all the way to my house?”

“Uh,” Gerard said. “Yeah. Sorry if that’s weird. I didn’t like, stalk you or anything, I promise.” He shivered slightly, the cold seeming to finally catch up to him.

“I know.” Frank looked up at him, and Gerard couldn’t read his expression at all.

“Just come inside, idiot. You look cold.” Frank said, stepping to the side, allowing space for Gerard to walk inside. He swallowed once before taking a few steps towards the doorway and stepping past Frank into the house. It was dark, really dark- that was the first thing he noticed. Of course, the sun was completely set by now so it made sense that it wasn’t bright, but there were no lights on, and looking around he couldn’t even see any slither of light poking out from closed doors, either. It was like no one was even home, which obviously wasn’t true since Frank was right here, and whoever that lady was that answered the door originally was also probably lurking around somewhere. 

Frank led him up the large flight of stairs without a word, and Gerard nearly tripped once or twice in the dark, but Frank seemed unaffected by the fact that his entire house was nearly pitch black. At the top of the stairs, they rounded a corridor and turned into a large room, which turned out to be Frank’s room. It was fucking huge, much like everything else in the house. It was also kind of dark, but he had a small lamp in the corner that he flicked on when the two of them entered the room. Gerard glanced around, taking note of the several guitars that lined one of the walls, and the CD rack in one corner. Other than that, though, it was strangely empty. Or maybe it was just the size of the room that was disproportionate with the things inside it.

Frank came to a stop and sat down on his bed, looking up at Gerard with his arms crossed. Gerard shifted nervously and absent mindedly picked at the sleeves of his hoodie, wondering whether he should stay standing awkwardly in the doorway, or if Frank wanted him to sit on the bed next to him. He had a feeling that the second option mightn’t go over well, however. 

“So,” Frank said. “What did you so desperately need to tell me that warranted coming to my house after dark?”

“I–.” Gerard didn’t look at Frank when he started speaking. “I’m really confused. About… you. And I think you’re being kind of an asshole?”

Frank huffed out a breath. “Okay.”

Gerard looked up. “Okay? What do you mean okay?”

“What do you want me to say?” Frank said. “You haven’t told me what’s confusing you.”

“The fact that you’ve been ignoring me for two weeks? About maybe that everytime you see me at school, you basically run away like I've killed your whole family!” Gerard said, wincing almost immediately the second those last words left his mouth. Although it hadn’t been on purpose, that was a low fucking blow. 

“Wow, okay.” Frank said, looking away. “There’s probably better fuckin ways to say that.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, although he did feel a little bad, because Frank’s family literally were dead . “I didn’t– you’re an asshole.”

“Seriously? What did you even come here to hear me say?” Frank said, his tone sharp. “ That I’m sorry for ignoring you? I’m sorry for being an asshole?”

“Well yeah, maybe.” Gerard mumbled, still looking at the floor. “But no, actually. I mean, yes, but I just wanted to know why.”

“Why what?” Frank asked. Gerard had to breath out slowly through his nose. Frank was either an idiot or he was doing a very good job at being an asshole.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He said, this time looking up at Frank. “And why the fuck did you kiss me if you didn’t even like me?”

“I–” Frank said. It was obvious he chose his next words very carefully. “I never said I didn’t like you.” Frank said seriously.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “But when did you say that you did?” He took another deep breath. “What else am I supposed to believe? Other than that you thought it was a mistake, and that you were embarrassed by it, by me, and that you regretted it!”

There was silence for a moment, and the awkwardness was so palpable in the room that Gerard felt like he was drowning in it, and regret was slowly seeping into his head. He silently wished that he had never come in the first place.

Frank looked away. “I…Look…” He coughed. “Seriously, I wish I could tell you the fuckin’ truth. I really do. But I–.” He now looked up at Gerard, the look in his eyes almost a one-eighty degree shift from the cold, dismissive looks he had been giving him up until now. His eyes were round and slightly watery, and his eyebrows were furrowed together. He looked worried, and he looked like he was about to cry. He tried opening his mouth to say something else, but thought better and closed it again

“You keep saying that.” Gerard said. Frank winced, as if the words personally hurt him to hear. “I don’t–. I can’t trust you.”

“I know.” 

Gerard took another deep breath. “I’m done, okay? If you’re gonna keep up this whole mysterious persona or whatever, then I’m out, okay? Of… whatever this is.” He guested between the two of them and Frank’s frown grew bigger. “I can’t trust you because it feels like you’re always hiding something from me, or it’s that you don’t trust me enough with your secrets. It makes me feel like shit. I feel like you’re leading me around on a leash, and whenever it gets too difficult, or- or I mess up or something, you drop me. If you would just fucking tell me what’s happening then maybe I could help, and then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

“It’s not that easy.” Frank mumbled. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Gerard said, resisting the urge to reach out and grab Frank by the shoulders and shake him. “What could possibly be so serious that you can’t tell me?”

“You wouldn’t even believe me.” Frank said. 

Gerard fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You keep saying that but you don’t let me in enough to give me a chance to believe you.”

When Frank didn’t reply, Gerard walked towards him and sat down on the bed next to him. He looked at Frank, who was refusing to meet his eyes, and he could see some sort of internal war raging behind his eyes, and he still looked troubled. 

Gerard frowned. “If it’s because you don’t like me, you–” 

“No! It’s, uhm, not that. It’s complicated.” Frank said quickly. 

He raised an eyebrow. “So… you…?”

Frank nodded, a blush colouring his cheeks. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Oh.” Gerard said. His mind was racing, -and so was his heart,- he wanted to still be upset with Frank but it was pretty damn hard when he was telling him the stuff of his fucking dreams. He could feel his resolve melting pretty quickly and cursed himself for it. Damn Frank and his beautiful puppy dog eyes. 

Frank nodded once, his damp hair falling into his eyes. In the light of the lamp, his skin looked impossibly smooth and the sharp lines of his face were accentuated by the shadows. He looked like a renaissance painting, and Gerard had to physically restrain himself from reaching out towards him and kissing him.

“Is that why you were ignoring me?” Gerard asked softly.

Slowly, Frank shook his head.

“Why… Why then?” He asked. 

For a moment Frank didn’t say anything, and Gerard could see a single tear slide down his cheek, the wet trail it left sparkling in the lamplight. He looked so fucking sad, and Gerard just wanted to hold him in his arms forever and tell him it was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. Because whatever secret Frank was holding back from him was obviously fucking huge, and it had to be deeply personal if it was getting him all worked up like this. He also had no idea why he had been avoiding him now, though, if it wasn’t for the kiss. He briefly wondered if it was some sort of family issue, or maybe Frank had some sort of mental illness? He really had no idea if it was okay. Frank swiped at his nose with his hoodie sleeve and sniffed once.

“I’m sorry.” He said eventually, still staring straight ahead. “For ignoring you.”

Gerard felt conflicted. He wanted to demand answers, to tell Frank ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough, and that he deserved to know what was going on, but at the same time- it hurt too badly to see Frank upset, it was like he could feel all of his emotional pain. He just wanted him to be happy, really. Damn, he really needed to grow a backbone. Gerard nudged him with his shoulder and sighed lightly. “It’s alright. I think.”

Frank looked at him then, his eyes shiny. “It isn’t, but thanks.”

“As long as you promise not to do it again.” Gerard said. “I don’t care about the other stuff, keep your secrets if you want. I just… Can we be proper friends? Can we do that?”

Frank sniffed again, dropping his gaze but still facing Gerard. “Yeah. I think so.”

Gerard smiled. “Okay. Great, then.” He held out his pinky finger in front of Frank. “Pinky promise me?”

Frank also smiled a little bit, another tear falling down his face in the process. He wrapped his finger around Gerard’s and squeezed, and Gerard nearly jumped at the tiny shock of electricity that ripped down his spine. Another thing he wanted to ask Frank about, but he didn’t seem to notice, so there was a possibility he was just imagining things. 

“I pinky promise.” He said.

Gerard pulled his hand back, and then the two of them sat there in silence for a moment. Gerard’s confrontation was slightly unsatisfying, because he didn’t really even get an explanation for Frank’s behaviour like he had come here wanting. However, he did get a confession of feelings, in some way. But even then, for some reason it felt like neither of them were allowed to talk about it. He also had no idea what to even say, or if Frank wanted to be more than friends. He had said that he liked him, but what did that actually mean? To what extent? They had acknowledged it, and then they moved on, which wasn’t really what Gerard had been wanting. But having Frank as a friend was better than not having him at all. 

The silence was interrupted by Gerard’s phone ringing out of nowhere, and he nearly jumped out of his skin hearing his ringtone. He felt the vibrations of the phone from his hoodie pocket, and felt around for a second until he pulled it out.

“You should probably answer that.” Frank said, looking down at the phone, and yeah, he was right, considering the fact that it was his Mom calling and Gerard was just staring down at the phone in his hand uselessly, not making any moves to answer it. 

“Yeah.” He said dumbly, standing up, before realising he didn’t even know where he would go to take the call, so he sat back down and pressed the ‘accept call’ button. “Hello?” 

“ Gerard Arthur Way, where in the everloving fuck are you?!”  

Gerard winced and held his phone back from his face. “Mom, hello…”

“I asked you a question. Where are you? It’s past dinnertime and I was expecting my son to actually respect the rules in this house by being home at a decent time.”

“Yeah, sorry… I’m at a friend's house?” He said, glancing at Frank, who shrugged awkwardly.

He could hear his mother sigh through the phone. “You could have told me that, before I started getting worried that you got kidnapped or something. Even Mikey didn’t know where you went, and usually you guys tell each other everything…”

“I’m sorry.” He said honestly. “I’ll be home… soon. I promise.”

She sighed again. “ Fine. Just promise me you won’t go around talking to creepy men driving weird vans.”

Gerard smiled. “I promise mom. I’m okay, I’ll come home soon.”

“Okay. I love you, sweetie. Be home soon.” 

“Love you too. Bye.” He flipped his phone shut and turned his attention back to Frank, who had taken to staring at the wall again. He touched his shoulder lightly. “Frank?”

“Hm?” He said, looking back to Gerard. “Hey, can I show you something?”

“Uhm,” Gerard said, still smiling. “Sure?”

Frank’s face broke out into a huge grin. “Okay great! Come with me.” He leaped up from the bed, seeming happier than he had in the entire time Gerard had known him. When he held out his hand for him to take it, Gerard was more than happy to oblige, and as he intertwined his fingers with Frank’s, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face any longer, despite a small pit in his stomach still weighing him down with unease. Frank led him out of the bedroom, and once again down the very dark staircase, which seemed even more dangerous going down than it had been when going up, but by some miracle Gerard didn’t trip. They then turned into the hallway, and then much to Gerard’s surprise, they left the house through the front door, and Frank didn’t even bother with locking it. The two of them walked down the street in silence, and neither of them made an effort to let go of where their fingers were still woven together. The darkness of the night was a blanket around the two of them and Gerard felt like they were the only people in the world. Temperatures had dropped below freezing, and Gerard shivered in his hoodie, but he realised incredulously that Frank was still just wearing his stupid fucking pyjama pants and his black T-shirt. 

“How the fuck do you not have hypothermia?” Gerard asked after a few minutes of Frank leading him down the dark street and closer to the edge of the woods.

Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really get cold that much, I feel fine.”

Gerard touched his palm to Frank’s forehead, -who smiled and unconsciously leaned into the touch-, and he was unsurprised that it felt freezing to the touch. “Dude, you’re gonna get sick. Do you want my jacket?” He said, already shrugging his arms out of the sleeves and sadly having to let go of Frank’s hand, which was easier said than done due to the fact that Frank was holding onto him like Gerard was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. 

Frank shook his head with a smile. “Seriously, I don’t need it. You keep it on. And, I can’t kiss you if you’re frozen.” Gerard’s stomach flipped and he could feel his cheeks warming.

“If you do that, then I can definitely stay warm. Therefore, you need the jacket more than me.” He said, and Frank just giggled and grabbed his hand again. He felt like little fireworks were going off in his stomach, and he felt all jittery and shaky, but not from the cold. He tried insisting a few more times that Frank put on his jacket, but he eventually gave up, because Frank had a fucking deathwish, apparently. A cold, hypothermia-related deathwish.

After the two had been walking for a few more minutes, they had made it out of the suburban area and were walking through a grassy area near the edge of the forest. Gerard still had zero idea where they were going, but he trusted Frank to not get them into danger, at least. The sky was clear for a change, and the moonlight was bright, a couple days off the middle of its cycle, and becoming full. The milky light casted long shadows over the treeline, which seemed to be reaching out towards where the two of them were trekking across the ground. The shadows were creepy, but looking at Frank, Gerard found that he didn’t look creepy at all, -he looked fucking angelic-, smiling brightly and the shimmering of the moonlight almost made it look like he was glowing, and there was no doubt in his mind that Frank was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He would give anything for the two of them to be frozen in time, so that he could look at Frank in this moment for the rest of his life. 

Frank led them over to the tree-line, finally, and they walked for less than 30 seconds before the two of them came across what looked to be an abandoned cabin of some sort. It had to be at least 50 years old, the aged wood carrying the weight of time and the shingled roof sloping inwards on itself, and Gerard feared that the whole thing might collapse in on itself, but Frank wrenched the door open and shepherded him inside. 

The inside was significantly more homely than the outside suggested, and he looked up as Frank switched on some string lights that lined the perimeters of the ceiling, bathing the small-ish room in a soft orange glow. There were a few beanbags in the corner, sitting on the wooden planked floor, alongside a couple empty and crushed up beer cans. Opposite the beanbags was an upside-down cardboard box, which also doubled as a stand for the boxy TV that sat on top of it, which was plugged into who knows where. There was more than one guitar sitting against the walls, both acoustic and electric, with a small amp in the corner, and Gerard wondered what the hell such lovely guitars were doing out here, where they could easily be snatched. It was homely, and Gerard turned to Frank, who was sitting down on one of the beanbags and motioning for Gerard to join him. 

“What is this place?” 

Frank beamed. “This is my top-secret hideout. I basically live here. And by that, I mean when my family are being assholes, this is where I come to hide from them. They're assholes most of the damn time, so I’m out here a lot.”

Gerard nodded. “It’s cozy. I like it.” 

Frank gestured with a nod towards the TV. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I have some really bad horror flicks we could watch. They're bad, but like in the way where they're so bad it's entertaining.” Gerard paused for a second, and Frank noticed instantly. “I mean, if you need to go home, or whatever…”

Gerard didn’t want to have to think twice. This was a date, right? It had to be. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket to call his mother. “It should be fine, I mean, it's a Friday night, we don’t have school tomorrow so I can stay out late.” He flicked his cell open and dialed his mom, who apprehensively let him stay out, and when he told her he was hanging out with Frank, she made a loud, obnoxious “ooooh” that made him wince and he hoped with everything in him that Frank hadn’t heard, but judging by the fact that he was sitting right next to him, and that he wore a shit-eating grin, that he probably had. He knew that the only reason his Mom had any semblance of his feelings towards Frank was probably due to Mikey not being able to close his big mouth. He was going to kill him.

He coughed loudly and hung up, pointedly not looking at him before saying, “She said I can stay out.”

“I heard.” Frank said. Gerard wanted to die.

Frank grabbed the remote and settled down further into his beanbag. “Do you want a drink or anything? I don’t know if I’ve got any more but I swear I still had a couple beers left.” He paused and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “They’d probably be room temperature… if you’re into that…?”

Gerard bit back a laugh. “It’s fine, Frankie. I don't need anything.”

Frank rolled his eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Yeah, okay.”

Halfway through the movie, -which looked like every other bad slasher film ever-, Gerard nearly dozed off a couple times, not out of boredom, but because all of the emotional baggage he had been carrying over the past few weeks had finally caught up to him. He felt drowsy, and he was fighting to keep his eyelids open, but every time he caught himself dozing off, he would accidentally brush his shoulder against Frank’s, and he would jolt himself awake, moving back a bit and hoping he hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t help himself, it was like his body’s gravitational force was being pulled in by Frank, like they were two black holes revolving around one another, getting closer and closer before he knew they would inevitably collide. The question was, when would that happen? 

It turned out it might have been sooner than he thought. He had been trying to keep his eyes on the TV, avoiding looking at Frank in case he was looking at him, and then they would make eye-contact, and then he would die, probably. The movie was nearly done, and there was some sort of gory scene with a shit-ton of blood, and although it wasn’t super noticeable, he could feel Frank almost vibrating next to him, and as he turned his head to ask him if he was okay, he wasn’t able to get another word out because Frank was kissing him. 

It knocked all the air out of his lungs, and he was almost surprised at the ferocity of it. It wasn’t sweet or tender, like he had been expecting for his first kiss, it was eager and hungry and Frank was kissing him like he needed it to survive. He was still for a moment, trying to get some feeling back into his limbs which were tingling like static, and kicking himself mentally as his stupid slow brain got back into gear. He felt like something in his chest was on fire, burning brightly and although it was all in his head, it was almost like he could physically feel it. It was warm, and it felt like sunshine. After a second, he sighed softly and returned the kiss, sliding a hand into Frank’s hair, revelling in the softness of the freshly-washed strands and curling his fingers around them. Frank wrapped an arm around him and deepened the kiss and Gerard made a totally embarrassing eager sound into his mouth, but Frank seemed to appreciate it, because he groaned softly and bit lightly at Gerard's bottom lip. The static in his limbs grew more aggressive the longer they kissed, the feeling spreading throughout his body and coiling around his heart, and Gerard was going to die if he didn’t stop to breathe soon, but he didn’t really care. For a guy who was usually so full of thoughts, his mind was strangely blank and he was revelling in the plain silence of it, and he decided that he wouldn’t be opposed to staying like this forever.

Frank broke back, just far enough away that they were just barely resting their foreheads together, and he was staring at Gerard with wide, sparkling eyes, his breath coming out ragged. He was still shaking slightly, the hand he had resting against Gerard’s neck trembling slightly. Gerard took in big gulps of air and he pulled away a bit to be able to see Frank’s messed up hair from where he had had his hands in it, and he was sure that he was going to drop dead right there, right then. The further he got away from Frank, the more the tingling subsided, which was… interesting. 

“I’m… Was that okay?” Frank asked, searching Gerard’s eyes for any hint of apprehension.

Gerard nodded his head so hard he thought it might fall off. “Yeah, that was… like. Holyfuckingshit.”

Frank giggled. “Okay, great.” He smiled, before his expression became slightly more concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look…”

Gerard shrugged. “I feel fine. I feel better than fine, actually. I feel fucking amazing.” He flashed him a smile which he hoped would convince Frank that he was okay, because then it would encourage them to continue, he hoped. It seemed to work, because Frank leaned back in, wrapping both his arms around Gerard’s neck and pulling them both down so they were laying down on the beanbag, the movie turning to background noise behind them. Gerard didn’t remember the last time he felt so fucking good, he felt like something inside him had finally clicked into place. All the way out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, in some random-ass abandoned-turned-secret-hideout, he felt more at home than anywhere else he had ever been in his life. 

Maybe it was gonna be okay.

Notes:

i hope you enjoyed! if u have feedback or anything, pls comment! see yall soon for another update, it's coming soon i promise

Chapter 8: I'll Be Your Fucking Curse, Baby

Notes:

ok another update ahead of schedule cause i cant help myself. it's a little bit shorter but a much needed bridge to the next chapter, which will be very lore-heavy!! enjoy but also brace yourselves holy crap

Something resembling a loud bang pulled Gerard out of sleep. He hadn’t even remembered falling asleep in the little shack with Frank, it had just happened, and to be honest he was really quite cozy next to him. There was something about Frank’s presence that just completely fucked with his head, it was like he couldn’t think straight around him and all of his bad thoughts became nothing but static. It should have been concerning, but he didn’t really care, because he felt good. 

He blinked his eyes open and looked around the cabin. The string lights were still on, but it was dark outside. The TV was off, and Frank was snoring lightly, his head tucked into Gerard’s shoulder and his breath tickling his neck, which gave him a strange urge to sneeze. For a moment he thought he had imagined it, but then the loud bang which had sounded from outside came once more and he flinched. It sounded close to a gunshot, and he was still slightly sleepy, but upon hearing that a surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins. He quickly turned to Frank and tried to gently shake him awake.

“Frankie?” He whispered, touching his shoulder.

“Mmm?” Frank mumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes. “What?”

Gerard took a nervous glance around. “I heard a gunshot. I don’t know…”

At the mention of gunfire, Frank jolted up so quickly it made Gerard flinch again. His eyes were wide and Gerard could almost feel the fear rolling off him. “You heard what?”

“A shot, I think. Someone’s shooting outside. Not that close I think–”

He was cut off by another gunshot, and it was definitely closer. Gerard’s heart was racing, but he felt like he should have been more scared than he actually was, but he was feeling a bit fuzzy from still being in contact with Frank. Frank, however, looked positively fucking terrified, his already normally-pale face was about 10 shades whiter than should have been humanly possible. Frank scrambled to his feet, and quickly wrenched open the curtain that hung across the one and only tiny window in the small shack. It was pitch black outside, however, and the light from inside would have made it impossible for him to see anything anyways, but he still looked nervously through the window, his eyes darting around. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gerard started, also getting up and going to rest a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just someone minding their own business and hunting or something?” He didn’t know if he even believed his own words, but he said them just in the hope that maybe Frank would find comfort in them.

Frank didn’t respond, he was still looking out the window nervously. He was still, almost unnervingly so, his face was still pale, and his eyes looked foggy and distant. Gerard frowned and shook the hand that was resting on his shoulder gently. “Frankie? Are you okay?” 

Frank still didn’t respond, he didn’t even react when Gerard put a hand on his forehead and asked if he felt alright. He stood standing like that for a few more seconds, before it seemed as though he jolted back into his own body, his muscles tensing and the far-away look in his eyes being replaced by pure unadulterated fear.

“Shit. Fuck. He’s here. They’re here.” 

Frank put his hands in his hair, and started pacing back and forth distressedly, muttering something to himself and looking at the floor.

“Hey, what?” Gerard asked, frowning and starting to become a bit concerned with Frank’s antics. “Who’s he? Why is who here?”

Frank looked up at him. “We need to go. Like, right the fuck now?” He grabbed Gerard by the arm, using the other to pick up his jacket which had been discarded on the floor and thrust it into his arms, before pointing at his shoes which were lying on the floor next to the door. “Put them on as fast as you can. Please.”

Gerard frowned harder but he didn’t object, and although he still had zero fucking idea what was going on, the way Frank was acting made him feel scared as shit, too. His heart was racing as he knelt down to put his shoes on, and Frank’s insistent pestering to hurry up didn’t stop his hands from fumbling on the laces of his stupid fucking school shoes that he hadn’t thought to change out of before he made the decision to go to Frank’s house. By the time he had gotten both shoes laced up, Frank was all but pulling them both out of the door, not even bothering to turn the lights off, and he grabbed him by the wrist, which still made Gerard wince slightly, even if his wrists were all but completely healed from where he had been cut a few months ago. 

It was somehow even colder than it had been on the way there, which seemed like it should have been impossible and surely was pressing some sort of boundary within nature, and he also had zero idea what time it was but it had to have been somewhere in the very early morning hours. The moon was gone by this point, hidden behind clouds, so Gerard had to rely on Frank’s supposed masterful ability to navigate in the darkness so that he wouldn’t trip over in the foliage and hit his head on a rock and die or something. The last remaining bout of sleepiness was shocked out of him when he heard yet another shot, this time much closer than any of the previous, so loud that he could feel it reverberating in his rib cage. His breath faltered for a second when Frank flinched so viciously that he could feel it from where he was gripping his wrist. It was so different from when they had been holding hands walking through these same woods a few hours earlier that he nearly got whiplash.

The whole time they had been walking, Frank had been mumbling shit under his breath and Gerard finally got fed up. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He breathed, his head spinning slightly, “Why are we leaving?”

Frank looked back at him with an expression that could have resembled irritation, but fear took up most of the space on his face, his eyebrows pulled tightly together and his mouth set in a line. “They’re coming. I was hoping I would’ve been more prepared but…” He trailed off and shook his head, pulling Gerard a bit harder as they stepped out of the forest and into the grassy area that lined the outermost edges of the suburbs. “I guess I ran out of time. We’re both fucked if we don’t get to my house–” Another gunshot. “Like, right now.”

“Frank, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know,” He said, frowning and looking around nervously. “But I promised you I wouldn’t keep shit from you. I also told you that you wouldn’t get it.”

“I don’t…” Gerard faltered, trying to wrack his stupidly slow brain for something to say. God, what was happening to him? He felt so unlike himself right now, it was ridiculous. He felt out of his depth, and he felt an unsettlingly familiar feeling wrap itself around his chest. 

“They already know what I’ve done.” Frank mumbled, and fuck, those words hit Gerard like a fucking feight train, because he knew with every ounce of his being that he’d heard those exact words before, spoken to him in a place far, far away. His heart leaped to his throat and there was something dark at the back of his mind, locked away and bashing at the walls of its enclosure, begging and crying to be let out, something that he hadn’t thought about for months. It was big and ugly and cold and he suddenly felt like crying, because it was all that he could bring himself to do. He didn’t cry, though, he just kept stumbling after Frank, whose grip on his wrist never faltered until they had made it back into Frank’s house, and the door was firmly locked behind him. 

Frank breathed out a huge sigh, and Gerard wheeled on him. “Explain yourself.”

Frank shook his head, but then paused. “Okay. I will, but you have to come with me first.” He shepherded Gerard through the living room of his still incredibly dark house, and then down a small flight of stairs which led to the basement of the house. The basement was cold, and he still couldn’t see anything until Frank flicked the light on, and the cool-toned fluorescent lightbulb flooded the room with light. He bit back a gasp, the walls were painted with black swirling lines that vaguely resembled strange cult-like symbols, and there was a singular table in the corner of the room, with strange vials and tubes of God-knows-what inside of them. There were several bookshelves lining the wall behind the table, filled with books, unsurprisingly, but also what looked suspiciously like a human skull and he hoped for his own sanity that it was made out of plastic. There were stacks of the same giant, leather-bound books sitting on the tables too, and what was next to one of them made Gerard’s stomach blanch, because it appeared to be a human eyeball suspended in clear liquid.

Frank noticed Gerard’s expression. “Oh, ignore that please. Sorry.” Frank ushered Gerard into the room and closed the door, which he had only just realised was made out of fucking steel or something, with a gigantic lock that Frank clicked into place.

Gerard looked at him with wild eyes. “Are you kidnapping me?”

Frank snorted softly. “No. I would have done that ages ago if I wanted to.”

“Are you going to murder me, then?”

“Also no,” Frank said. “Funnily enough, I’m trying to keep you safe.” Despite almost all of Gerard’s instincts telling him to get the fuck out, he instead just kept quiet and watched as Frank grabbed what looked like a giant stick of chalk and drew another strange symbol over the door, one which matched the others on the wall. “I just want you to promise not to freak out when I tell you what’s going on.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “I think I’m past the point of that, we just got chased out of the woods by gunfire and now you’re locking me in a basement.”

Frank shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He finished the symbol and walked back over to the table where he then picked up– a container of fucking blood? Gerard’s eyes widened almost comically and he opened his mouth to speak before he could stop himself.

“What in the fuck is that.”  

Frank looked over at him, almost self-consciously. “Oh. It’s not human, don’t worry. At least I don’t think it is. It is necessary, though.” He hummed absent-mindedly as he dipped two of his fingers into the blood and started painting over the outline he had done in chalk, occasionally dipping his fingers back into it re-coat them, acting like this was the most natural thing in the world, all whilst Gerard stared at him open-mouthed whilst trying not to do exactly what Frank had just asked him not to. Which happened to be ‘not freaking the fuck out.’ He was pretty certain he was failing. Although, who could fucking blame him? Was Frank part of some sort of fucked-up cult, and he was going to offer Gerard up as a sacrifice or something? Maybe he was mentally ill and this was his idea of some sort of sick joke. Gerard was about to ask him if he was going to be skinned as an offering to the gods before Frank put down the bowl to admire his handiwork on the door, before sticking his fingers in his mouth and sucking the blood off of them, turning to look at Gerard, as if only just remembering he had company. “Oops.” He said sheepishly.

Gerard blinked at him. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Frank frowned. “Please don’t.” It was quiet for a moment, the both of them seeming to not know what to do next, before an ear-splitting crash came from the door. The metal door buckled slightly, and Gerard cowered backwards until he had his back against the wall furthest from the door, his heart beating so fast he was surprised it hadn’t already jumped out of his throat and was laying on the ground. There was silence for another second, before banging started up on the other side of the door. It was unlike any sound Gerard had ever heard in his life, it was inhuman, almost animalistic the way the banging was unrelenting, repeated hits against the door with such a frenzy he was certain it was going to give out at any second. And it was so loud, Gerard fought the urge to put his hands over his ears as it seemed like the crashing against the door only got louder. 

He hadn’t realised through the noise -which was loud enough that it rendered him useless, which was fucking strange,- that Frank had moved over to where he was standing, and he jumped when he reached out to put an arm around his shoulder. He was trembling all over, and he thought Frank was saying something to him but he could only see his mouth moving, not the sounds that were coming out of it. Gerard was so fucking confused, so fucking scared, and it felt like his head was operating on a completely different stratosphere to the rest of his body, his mind simultaneously racing but also being gripped by fear so ferociously that it rendered it almost unusable. There was something so fucking wrong, he could feel it in his chest and in his mind and the darkness that had been fighting for release in his head was once again pounding against the bars of it’s enclosure. 

He had no idea how long the banging went on for, and he distantly wondered why no one in Frank’s family had come down to check on him. He was also wondering who was making that noise. Or what. That thought sent a shudder through him, although it was hardly distinguishable through the shakes that had taken over his body. At some point he ended up sliding down the wall so that he was sitting with his knees up, his hands covering his ears and his head slumped down so that it was resting bracketed between his knees. After what felt like a lifetime, the continuous rhythm of crashing slowly faltered and quieted, until eventually it had become nothing more than a slow, rhythmic knocking. The knocking was arguably creepier than the crashing, but at least now Gerard could actually think. 

“Hey, you okay?” Frank asked. 

No, I’m not fucking okay, why would I be? Was what he wanted to say, but instead all that came out was a quiet, “I don't know.”

Frank let out a sad sigh. “I can’t believe I fucked up this badly.”

Gerard didn’t try and lift his head to talk, because he was afraid that if he did, then his brain would start leaking from his ears. “I don’t even know what the fuck to even say. Or think.” He mumbled.

“Fair enough.” Frank said. “I don’t expect you to fully get what I say, or even believe me. If you don’t, that’s fine, but I just hope you trust me enough to believe that I’m doing what I think is best for the both of us.”

Slowly, Gerard lifted his head so that he could rest the side of his face on his knee, where he was able to see Frank. “Give me your best summary, then. No bullshit.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Frank took a deep breath. “The physical manifestation of death is after both of us because we both evaded it once already and it got confused but also mad and is trying to bring both of our souls down into purgatory. Happy?”

Gerard blinked. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No.” Frank said, and Gerard searched his eyes for any hint that he was joking, that maybe this was part of a stupid prank, but upon finding nothing but seriousness he felt another wave of nausea. 

“What does…” He started, blinking rapidly to try and stop his vision from swimming. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Frank looked away. “Well. Do you know how all this death and afterlife stuff works?”

“How the fuck would I know?!”

Frank threw his hands up. “I don’t fucking know, okay? I was just checking, it was a rhetorical question.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways. When you die, usually what happens is that your soul gets taken from earth by one of Death’s servants down into purgatory, where it’s determined there wether or not you get to go to the good place, or the bad place. It’s pretty simple, I'm sure you’ve heard of it before, right?”

“So heaven and hell are real, then?” Gerard asked, bewildered and thinking that maybe he should have paid more attention when he went to church as a kid.

Frank hummed. “Well, sort of? It’s a bit more complicated than that, I don’t think I described it properly. There’s a bad place and then a slightly less bad place. But that isn’t my point. My point is, when you die, you get taken down to purgatory, right? You can’t just, like, stay on earth, unless you’re a spirit with unfinished business–”

“So ghosts are real?” Gerard interrupted. “Also how the fuck do you know all of this? And why should I believe you?”

Frank snorted. “What about that ghost in your bathroom that you kept telling me about? I thought you were already a believer.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Not a believer by choice. A believer by force. Anyways, continue?”

“As I was saying, you can’t just stay on earth. You get taken. We–, ” Frank said, gesturing to the two of them. “-evaded that. Both purgatory and becoming vengeful spirits or whatever. So, naturally that pissed Death the hell off, and so he came here himself to take us back down or whatever. That’s what the symbols on the door were, they’re to stop him from getting in.”

“And you seriously expect me to believe all this?” Gerard asked, because treating Frank like he was making shit up was easier to process than entertaining the thought that he might actually be right.

“Yeah, I do. How the fuck else do you explain that? ” He said, pointing to the door, where, indeed, -there was still the creepy, rhythmic knocking.

Gerard frowned. “You’re telling me that is litteral fucking death knocking at my door right now?” 

Frank grinned crookedly. “Yeah, I guess so. Well, whatever your own interpretation of death is. Everyone sees it differently. You, however, see it as a man with a gun. That’s the shooting you were hearing earlier, and how I knew he was coming the second you mentioned hearing gunfire. I knew he was coming sooner or later, though. I’ve not exactly been subtle.”

“How do you know what I can see?” Gerard asked, slightly more defensively than he was anticipating.

Frank shrugged. “I know things.” He said casually, leaning his head back against the wall.

Gerard pouted in protest but he didn’t press the subject any further, mostly because he was trying, -and failing,- to process the fact that death himself was standing right outside the basement door, ready to what, -whisk him down into purgatory? Which reminded him—

“Hey, you said we ‘evaded death’ or whatever. I don’t understand... I never died, or- or came close to dying… So how did…?” 

Frank looked slightly surprised at the question, and his expression slowly melted into one of guilt. “Yeah, uhm. That’s a long fucking story. ”

Gerard bit his bottom lip and furrowed his eyebrows. “Hey, that’s not fair. You have to tell me, especially because this is kind of, y’know, messing with my entire life.”

Frank sighed. “You know your whole thing with your wrists? Y’know, waking up in hospital after nearly bleeding to death…? You should have been dead after that.”

“But… I’m not? Why? Why am I here, then?”

Frank sighed and let out a huge groan. “Oh god. Can we talk about anything other than that?”

Gerard huffed. “Fine. If you don’t wanna tell me about the most traumatic event of my life, then fine. How about you tell me your gigantic, crazy secret that you’ve been keeping from me for the past fuck-knows how long. I want to know, or I’m going to open that door because I don’t believe you.”

“Firstly, I know you’re not going to do that,” Frank said. “Secondly, fine. I’ll fucking tell you. But like I said, you’re not gonna believe me.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Spit it out Frank, before I make you.”

“Have you noticed anything weird about me?”

“Seriously?” Gerard asked, his patience waning. “Everything about you is fuckin’ weird, do you want a fucking list?”

Frank groaned. “No idiot. I’m asking you to actually think. Use that brain of yours, I know you’ve got one up there.”

Okay, whatever. Frank was totally fucking weird, and not just becasue he was kind of awkward and had a really strange family and he acted like someone with a split personality disorder. Gerard couldn’t deny all the weird shit that had happened between the two of them, and maybe now would be the perfect time to try and bring them up. If Frank thought he was joking, then he could totally play it off as one anyways.

“Uhm. Is this about…?” Gerard trailed off and wildly gestured with his hands. “That like- sparkle thing that happened at the party?”

Frank looked conflicted but he nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Oh.” Gerard hadn’t expected him to admit that, let alone that he had even remembered it happening, which was probably due to the amount of self-gaslighting he had been doing recently. “What about it?”

Frank’s expression turned more sombre. “Hey look, before I say anything else I just want you to know I’m really, really fucking sorry. Like– earth-shatteringly sorry. Because when I tell you I never meant for all of this to happen, I mean it. I knew I was impulsive before this but like, wow, I was really hitting new limits and I—”

“Frank…”

“--didn’t want to get you roped into all of this because we didn’t even know each other, but if I hadn’t done it then we both would have died, which would have sucked, but maybe it would have been a better fate than what I know is coming for us and it’s eating me alive. I didn’t mean to set this all on you ‘cause if I would have known beforehand then–”

“Frank.” 

“--Of course I wouldn’t have fucking done it! I would never put you in danger but the thing is that I did and I was only thinking about myself when it happened because I’m selfish and I don’t have any impulse control. So I’m–”

“Frank!” Gerard snapped. “What the fuck are you talking about? What are you apologising for?”

It was at this moment that Gerard realised that Frank had the beginnings of tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to fall out if he blinked, which he did, before aggressively rubbing at his eyes. The beating of Gerard’s heart was loud in his ears, and unsettlingly it matched almost a perfect rhythm with the knocking against the door. He tried softening his voice before speaking again. “What are you sorry for?”

“I can’t–” Frank started, biting his bottom lip and staring into space. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked with your head, I fucked with your life, god, I even fucked with your family, and there’s so many people I roped into this that I didn’t even mean to–” He cut himself off with a sob.

“Frank, what do you mean? What did you do?” Gerard asked, trying to make a conscious effort to keep his voice somewhat level and calm to try and mask the underlying terror that was building beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Why do you keep saying sorry? I don’t– just, fucking stop, okay? It’s not going to make anything better, and- and you aren’t just telling me directly what the fuck is going on and I hate it! You’re acting like you were the one who tried to fucking kill me! And you weren’t, so stop saying sorry.”

“I am.” He sobbed. “I’m…”

“What?” Gerard shook his head. “You’re what? What do you mean, Frank? Spit it out.”

“I did it, okay?” Frank said. Tears were streaming down his face at this point. He took a single, shaky inhale, steeling himself before his next words.

 

“It was me who tried to kill you.”

 

Notes:

i'm scared of y'alls reaction to this chapter i might have to go into hiding after this one

Chapter 9: If You Were Me, You'd Do The Same

Notes:

HOLY CRAP SHES HERE FINALLY. secrets revealled!!!! this is very long im so sorry, would u believe me if i said i had to split this in two so this is actually only HALF of what i originally wrote. oops. also i hope u enjoy frank's edgy backstory, this whole chapter is from his perspective, (and the next few chapters too btw, theres a lot to get through) we also get a few time skips so be wary of that, the structure of this whole thing is kinda janky but bear with me.

TW: for blood (like a lot), attempted murder, and also actual murder, also brendon being a homophobic asshole (like always)

Late August, 2007

Logically, Frank knew that he had fucked up, and that he was continuing to fuck up the more he let his emotions get in the way of what he had to do. He was also aware of the fact that he was probably a terrible person, in more ways than one.

He just couldn’t help himself. It hadn’t been that difficult at first, really, -it had felt more like some secret spy mission than an actual ploy to keep people alive,- but the deeper he pulled himself (and those around him) into the giant ever-consuming black hole he had created, the more he realised that he had seriously fucked up. He could try and make excuses for himself, sure, that if he hadn’t done it, then they both would have died anyways. Sure, it would have fucking sucked, but maybe it wouldn’t have been so fucking painful that way, and maybe the guilt wouldn’t have been literally eating him alive.

Unfortunately, like a lot of things in his life, it didn’t go how he had wanted it to go. Everything was always out of his damn control, but after this, he started thinking that maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t in charge of important decisions. 

The whole situation had started out as just wanting to make his new Dad happy. Because really, underneath all of the brokenness and his wretched disposition, he wanted to be told that he was worth something. He wanted to be loved, goddamnit. It had been late August in 2007, and the heat of summer was slowly starting to calm down, the occasional cool breezes throughout the town a promise of what was to come. It was also the four year anniversary of his parents’ death.

He had mourned them for so long, and he didn’t think he would ever not miss them. His new family was fine, sure, but they would never be them, and it made him feel like something deep inside his soul was missing, broken and never able to be mended, because they would never be able to come back. They wouldn’t be waiting for him when he came home from school, they wouldn’t be there to see him graduate, they wouldn’t be there for him to introduce his future lover to, they wouldn’t see him get his first job or have his first kid or anything, because some bastard rouge had taken them from him. Right under his fucking nose, and he didn’t save them. He couldn’t save them. He let them die. 

It had been a couple months before his 13th birthday, and he had been at the dining room table, a textbook on something to do with WWI in front of him, a notebook and pencil next to it, and his Mother had been in the kitchen preparing dinner, with his Dad was out of the front porch fixing a lightbulb that had blown out. It had been a peaceful, quiet evening. A normal fucking evening for a normal fucking family. But the quiet had been interrupted by a scream from outside, and within two minutes, his entire life fell into pieces, broken and never able to be mended, much like his soul. He didn’t remember the face of the person, -or rather, creature-, that had killed his parents, but he hadn’t needed to see their face to hate them. 

His dad was left dead, still laying on the porch as blood pooled on the floor around his limp body, and 12-year-old Frank could do nothing but sit there frozen in horror as the rogue busted the door open with inhuman force, making a beeline straight for his Mother. It was only when his Mother yelped and ran over to Frank, stepping in front of him in an effort to protect him, that the snarl the vampire wore turned into a sadistic smirk. In less than a second, Frank’s mother was on the ground, slumped against the wall, unable to move but still conscious. All she could do was watch in horror as the vampire grabbed her only son by the neck, his fangs extended and ready to bite, the blood of her husband still shining on his lips. 

She was forced to watch as her son screamed and flailed but was unable to escape the strong grip of the creature, and she realised with unadulterated horror that this was more than just a rogue attack, a frenzied instinct-driven hit by a badly-behaved vampire. As the vampire looked her dead in the eyes, whispering-, “You said you feared me, you feared what I was. So for that, your precious boy will be nothing more than the grotesque creature that you saw in me. I’ll show you what it fucking feels like.” -that she realised that this was personal. This was payback. He bit down on Frank’s neck, who let out a blood-curdling screech, thrashing with pain before slowly slumping in the vampire’s grip. Mrs Iero could do nothing more than watch with wide eyes, the fractures in her spine from being thrown against the wall meaning that she was paralyzed, and she looked on as her son began convulsing on the floor, her eyes zeroing in on the bite mark on his neck. She could barely breathe as the vampire took a few more steps closer, getting right in her face, his hands around her neck, cutting off her airflow which was already strained with the effort of breathing in the first place. Time seemed to stop as he looked her right in the eyes, breathing out a strangled, “I hope you know it’s all your fault. He’s become what you tried to protect him from. You failed .” And she had all of three seconds to process his words before she was dead. 

Frank didn’t remember much from the day of the attack, other than that both of his parents had died. Oh, and the fact that he was turned into a fucking vampire. When he had woken up on the floor of his kitchen, feeling wrong, feeling alien in his own body, some part of him already knew what had happened. What he had become. The confirmation had come when he had stumbled out the front door, trying to find something or someone to help him, and he had seen his father’s dead body, and the sickening amount of blood, -and all he could think about was licking the blood off the floor like a fucking animal-, he knew he was a monster. He knew there was no turning back, no hope for a normal childhood and no hope for life in general. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, all the way across town to the only place he could think to go. His best friend’s house.

He had knocked on the door looking a mess, knotty hair caked in his own parents’ blood, face pale and eyes crazed and wild, immediately throwing himself into the arms of the lady who answered. He was trembling all over, and she just held him in the middle of the doorway for who-knows how long, before gently herding him into the kitchen, sitting him down on a chair and asking what had happened. She didn’t kick him out, or scream or curse him or any of that, she only called her husband downstairs and told him that they were going to be needing another bedroom, before handing little Frank a small packet of blood for him to drink. It had been his first night at Brendon’s house, and since that day he had spent almost every remaining night there since. He didn’t know until a few months later that the reason for their hospitality was because they were like him. It wasn’t until he had kept asking questions -because he wasn’t able to keep his big mouth shut-, that he realised there were actually lots of people like him in Dawesbury. In fact, it was more than half the fucking town, and he felt like an idiot for not realising. 

When he asked why or how humans were able to co-exist peacefully with them at all, he learnt that hundreds of years ago, a group of nomadic vampires had been given a safe town to stay in, -to get away from the human hunters that wanted them all staked through the heart-, in exchange for protection and community from the people that lived in the town. The vampires were able to source their blood elsewhere, and they became domesticated and were able to live amongst humans without issue. The thing was, though, that not all vampires harboured the same fondness towards their humans, some were violent, -angry bloodsucking creatures with no self control. When Frank would break down late at night, his adoptive parents would reassure him that it wasn’t his kind that was responsible for his parents’ death, it was just a rogue. It wasn’t representative of the kind of creature that he was, or the kind of creature that any of the other vampires were. It was just one bad accident. 

Unfortunately, despite the extensive amount of domestication that the vampires of Dawesbury underwent, they were still set apart from the humans because of one, glaring and obvious fact. They needed blood to survive. Getting it from the residents of the town was out of the question, so they had to source it from outside. That’s where Brendon’s Dad and his gang came in. The hunted had become the hunters, and through extensively organized attacks, they were able to gain enough blood to bring back home to feed everyone. It was a simple method, locate targets throughout various places in North America, attack when they weren’t looking, drain them of blood and store it. 

Frank had the process explained to him many times, as his dad was set on him becoming a hunter the moment he had turned 16, so that he could continue the family legacy. It was his way of showing that Frank was part of their family, which was all that Frank had desired; Love. So he trained extensively for months, and by the time his 16th birthday had come and gone, he was finally ready to head out with his adoptive father to make his first official kill. He had originally questioned the morals of killing random people, but his father had shut down anything with a: “It’s either them, or it’s people from the town, and we made an oath to them. Yes, it’s not ideal, but it’s what we have to do to survive. It’s called adapting.” So he didn’t question him any further. It’s not like he really cared that much, because he would go to the ends of the fucking earth if it meant his family would be proud of him. He was desperate to fill that huge, gaping hole inside of himself and he was sure that the moment he finally felt like he had proved himself to them, that it would finally be filled. 

And so the two of them set off, they drove all the way to the US and across the border without missing a beat. His father had given him explicit information on his target and how to locate them, how to corner them and how to attack, how to drain their blood and leave the scene like he had never been there. The widely agreed upon method of killing was to slit the wrists of their victims, so that it could be staged as a suicide. It meant less questions, because the wounds would appear self inflicted. It would be written off as a tragedy, an unfortunate instance of the human psyche being the cause of the end of a life. No questions meant that they could stay hidden. 

Frank’s dad gave him one last pat on the back. “You remember what to do, right? I trained you for this. Don’t let me down.”

Frank nodded, tightening his grip around his knife. “Of course. I won’t fail you, Dad.”

His father smiled approvingly. “I know you won’t, Frank. Now go, before it’s too late.”

Frank nodded one last time before he stepped forwards, away from his father and closer into the woods. One of the perks of being a creature of the night was the fact that almost all of his senses were heightened, and so he was able to smell the human way before he saw them. Usually, humans all had a pretty distinct smell, something like a combination between artificial sweets and the fermented scent of yeast. However, this human smelt almost intoxicating, like the sweetness of a crunchy apple and slightly metallic, not unlike the taste of blood. 

Following his nose, he crept silently through the thick foliage of the Jersey forest, a place completely unfamiliar to him, -but the thing is with forests is that the majority of them look exactly the fucking same. He peered around a particularly thick tree branch and his eyes locked on his target. His heart (or whatever was left of it) felt like it fell all the way down to his toes when he realised that his victim was… just a boy. A boy who looked around the same age as him, too. He had shaggy black hair and bright hazel eyes, and he looked positively fucking miserable. The boy was sitting on the floor with his back resting against a giant boulder, staring off into the distance with a grimace over his features, and he looked like he was talking to himself softly under his breath. Frank got distracted just watching before he reminded himself he had a fucking job to do. From where he was standing, he could creep up behind the boy without him seeing, before using his abilities to subdue him into unconsciousness. Then he would have to cut his wrists open. 

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, he took a silent step closer. Then another. Then one more before he was looming over the boy, who still hadn’t noticed that anyone was behind him. Frank was leaning closer with his arms outstretched, ready to place his hands over the boy’s temples to then lull him into sleep, but as he shifted his weight, a small stick cracked under his shoe, and the boy whipped his head around. Before Frank could think about what he was doing, panic had shot through him and he slammed one of his hands across the boy’s mouth to stop him from screaming, placing the other hand on the side of his head and watching as his wide eyes slowly rolled backwards and his body slackened. For a moment, Frank still just stood there, holding his head up with his hands, shaking slightly. He felt the urge to gently lower the boy back onto the ground, -although it didn’t matter if he was gentle or not, he was about to kill the guy for christ’s sake. Instead, he let his head drop from his hands, and the boy’s body slumped over as Frank swore and moved so that he was standing in front of him. With shaky  hands, he pulled the knife out from his pocket and grabbed the boy’s left wrist. 

For a moment, a part of him, -the part buried deep under layers of hurt and animalistic instinct-, begged him to stop, to leave this poor guy alone. He probably had family, friends, people who would miss him. He had his entire fucking life ahead of him, and Frank was about to strip that from him. The same way it had been stripped from Frank. But Frank could feel the boy’s pulse under his fingers and his mouth filled with saliva against his will at the sensation, and he swallowed once before the part that he usually tried so hard not to give in to took over. Allowing himself to become nothing but a monster was the only way he would be able to go through with it. Separating Frank The Vampire from Frank The Guy was the only way he could preserve the small bit of humanity left inside of him that he was desperately clinging to.

He didn’t look away as he cut into the boy’s wrists, his stomach bottoming out when the first drops of blood dripped down his arms and he had to force himself not to reach his head out to lick it up. He had a fucking job to do. He stepped back to where the big tree had been and opened up the small bag that he had with him, ready to grab out his equipment that he would use for blood collection. It wasn’t a particularly effective contraption, but it did the job, and it wasn’t like the vampires of Dawesbury had a fucking budget for their murder devices. It seemed that Frank had taken way too long to set everything up, however, because when he took a glance at the boy, he realised that he was blinking his eyes open very slightly, and Frank’s only thought was: shit.

He took one measured step closer, still avoiding eye contact, but when the boy blinked up at him and they locked eyes, Frank knew it was over. 

It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt before, both in his few years as a vampire and all the years before that as a human. He felt something big, something heavy inside his broken soul come alive. His entire being was flooded with a wave of euphoria, and horror and satisfaction, and the feeling of finding the missing piece of a puzzle that he hadn’t realised had even disappeared in the first place. His knees buckled and he had to fight to keep himself standing, and he watched in horror and a sick kind of fascination as a bright crackle of light suddenly materialised from his chest, dancing through the air deftly and weaving its way towards the boy, before striking him in the chest, and Frank felt all of the air get knocked out of his lungs. His entire body tingled and he felt hot, sick, cold and flushed all at once, things he knew a vampire shouldn’t have been able to feel. The two of them were connected in that moment by the glowing string, and Frank felt it wrap around his dark, rotting soul and lodge itself so far inside that he knew no amount of pulling would be able to take it out. Every single one of his senses were overloaded suddenly as he was hit with a tsunami of…was it consciousness? Humanity? The feeling of living ? What he was feeling was almost like a combination of everything he had felt throughout his life, he had the abilities and inhuman strengths of a vampire, the same lust for blood but at the same time he had this sensitivity, this emotion, this sudden ability to feel the same way he had as a human.

The sparkling tether between the two of them slowly dimmed until it wasn’t visible, and Frank could feel that something inside of him had just been changed forever. He gasped loudly, the only thoughts running through his head being a constant mantra of shit, shit, fuck, fuck.

He took another step back, and kept walking until the boy wasn’t visible anymore before he sank to his knees, his head throbbing and trying his best to slow his breathing. He had heard about this happening before, but the chances of it happening to him was almost unfathomable. He had only read about this kind of thing in passing, in dusty old books in the community library or through stories from elders, but he had heard enough to know what it was, and the town’s view of it. He had been turned against his will, of course he had been the one to try and research ways to be turned back. He was only curious, after all. 

What he had learnt was the thing about being a vampire was that they did have souls. They were just incomplete, dark, and broken. Being incomplete, however, implied that they were able to be completed in some way, able to be made whole again. Completing a vampire’s soul also meant that they would no longer be a vampire. So naturally, Frank tried finding out how he could ‘complete’ his soul. Through all of his research, he found out that there was only one way to fix his soul, which was to neutralise the darkness with enough light until it became close enough to the other side that he could turn back. This would be done through something called a soul bind, where the purest soul of a human would be hand-crafted by the Gods themself for a vampire with the darkest soul, and they would be brought close enough until they bound themselves together through a ritual of love and devotion, and then they would share one neutral soul together. The vampire would become a human again, but tethered through soul and mind to someone else. It was literally and figuratively soulmates. 

There was also the fact that if two people didn’t undergo the ritual, they would both just die, simple as that. It was the universe’s way of punishing a vampire for rejecting conformity. It was spiritual blasphemy because it was rejecting the darkness, and refusing the light. Turning to neither wasn’t an option. It was redemption or indulgence. 

Frank was also upset to find out that you couldn’t just go out and find someone to be bound to, it was up to the universe to decide who was bound to whom, and there was a large amount of people that were too far gone for the neutralisation to even work. However, Frank hadn’t even had to go looking for it, because it was suddenly staring him in the face, and despite his pathetic hoping that he had done for years that maybe he would find someone, the second he had it right in front of him the only thing he wanted to do was run.

He couldn’t run from it, though, because against all of his better wishes, he was bound at the soul to the boy that he had just tried to kill. 

He tried breathing slowly to calm himself, but that didn’t work. He tried naming five things he could see, and four things he could touch and three things he could–

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!” He grasped his hair in his hands tightly enough that he could have very well ripped it all out from his scalp, and desperately tried to think of what he could do. Because if the boy who was bleeding out a few yards away from him died from blood loss, then Frank had zero doubts in his mind that he was going to drop dead at the same time. He got up from where he had been on the ground and slowly walked back over to where the boy was lying, approaching him the same way you would approach a wounded animal. It looked as though he had been trying to stand up, but his efforts were futile and he slumped back down to his knees against the boulder, his legs giving out and his face becoming increasingly paler. Frank kept his distance, and tried to desperately conjure up some sort of intelligent thought, and quickly, or he was going to literally fucking die, right here, right now. 

He did the only thing he could think of.

Frank had always been aware that he was different from other vampires. He was turned, after all, most of the vampires in Dawesbury were born that way, so he already stood out against everyone else. It was more than that though. When he had been turned, he had quite literally died and came back to life, which meant that at some point, he must have crossed over the boundary between life and death, and then he had come back. And also at some point, something must have happened because he had somehow inhabited the same abilities as a vengeful spirit, in a way. He was able to turn invisible, for fucks sake! What other vampire was able to do that? He was also, conveniently, able to possess people and things, and although he had zero idea if his one and only idea would work, he figured it would be better to try than to just sit back and let both him and the boy die. 

To be honest, he had only seen this sort of thing happen once, and it was in some crappy horror movie he had watched at a sleepover when he was ten. He took a tentative step towards the boy, his palm outstretched, his face the picture of worry. He swore his heart nearly stopped again when he realised something. He wasn’t fucking breathing. Frank’s adrenaline peaked and he thrust his hand forward, colliding with the boy’s chest with a yelp.

The sensation when he possessed someone was always weird, like he was the pilot of a giant, fucked-up humanoid robot. He had no fucking idea what he was doing, or what he was even looking for, but he had atleast some semblance of how to navigate the teetering bridge to the afterlife. He had to reach far, far down until he could feel the boy’s soul, blindingly bright and warm as the fucking sun, and with every ounce of will he had left he wrenched it clean from the grasp of death himself, desperately thrashing back to the surface with the soul in hand. When he finally broke, he felt himself getting flung back out of the boy’s body with a jolt, and this time he watched through his own eyes as the boy spasmed slightly, his breath coming back into his lungs and he could hear his heart kick back into an out-of-pace rhythm.

Frank breathed out the biggest sigh of relief. The boy wasn’t dead. Yet. He still had to get him out of the fucking forest. He grabbed his phone out of his bag and dialed 9-1-1, and by some miracle he still had reception out here. He quickly listed off the location and told them to hurry, before hanging up and throwing his phone into a bush. 

He realised that after all that, he still had to go back to his fucking Dad, who would be expecting him to come back with bags of human blood. Blood that this boy so desperately needed. Torn, Frank decided to bag up everything that had already leaked from his wrists, and his heart sank when he realised he had barely half a bag, and that his father was most definitely going to be disappointed. Fuck that, though. He had just nearly died, and not only that, but he had found what would complete him. His literal fucking soulmate.

His soulmate that would die, again, unless he got the fuck out of there right now.

Trudging back to his father felt like a walk of shame, even though his dad didn’t know what happened. He could almost bear the look of disappointment, the silence on the ride back home, and the words of disapproval that came out of his father’s mouth. The insistence of; I taught you better than this. But he didn’t know. He didn’t know that Frank was now, -in the law of the universe-, legally binded to the boy he was supposed to kill. He didn’t know that he had no other choice. 

The second he got home, he collapsed onto his bed and promptly fell asleep. Frank had always been good with dreams, it was strange, he’d been able to slip into other people’s dreams even when he was a human, but now that he had all this other shit he was able to do, it was enhanced. Slipping into the head of the boy was pretty easy, because the thing about consciousness is that distance is only a problem on the physical plane of existence, when you need to get from place A to place B. Dreamscape, however, is kind of like a giant cosmic spiderweb that is infinitely tiny and also infinitely large, and jumping from place to place is very easy. It had also been incredibly easy to spot his mind amongst all of the others, because it shined like a small star, bright and intense and every part as lovely as he remembered. He fell into the boy’s dream without a plan of what he was going to say, and as he frantically searched the dreamscape -which happened to be a school of some sort-, for the boy, the words had just kind of tumbled out and he knew that he hadn’t been making much sense.

He scrambled across the room, knocking past a few of the desks, which -ow, that hurt, even in a dream, and the boy shrank back against the blackboard, his expression full of confusion.

“Thank God, I finally found you!” Frank exclaimed, realising the irony a second later. “Well maybe not thank him, after what happened but--” 

He noticed the look on the boy’s face and sighed, having ended up standing a foot in front of him, arms outstretched to grab his shoulders, but he decided against it in a fear of overwhelming him, -the poor guy already looked like he was going to pass out,- and let them fall to his sides. 

“Listen,” Frank started, although he didn’t really know what else to say. “I just need you to remember what I’m saying, okay? Because if you don’t remember this when you wake up, then I’m... then I’m going to have to resort to other measures to talk to you, okay?” He said, pacing the small space between the blackboard and front row of desks, his eyebrows furrowing. He didn’t know what the ‘other measures’ would be, but he was going to figure it out. He just needed to get the guy to Dawesbury somehow, and maybe if he explained the situation then he would realise the urgency and get his ass to Alberta the second he woke up. 

The boy nodded meekly, and Frank continued. “We don’t have much time, but I really need to tell you that-” He was cut off by what sounded like a gunshot in the background, like someone had opened fire somewhere inside the school. He could already tell who, -or what- it was, because he knew Death would have been hot on his tail. He’d pissed him off by wrenching a soul from his fucking arms. If that wasn’t enough to get you in trouble with the big guy downstairs, he had no idea what would. “Shit. Okay. I need your help, and it’s really important that when you wake up you follow all of my instructions, or else something really, really bad is going to happen. You hear me?”  

The boy was still just staring at him blankly, like he wasn’t even listening at all, and Frank’s anxiety meant that his patience was waning. He snapped his fingers in front of the guy’s face, trying to get his attention, his voice coming out angrier than he had been wanting. “Are you even listening? This is fucking serious, I need you to understand what I’m saying, and fuck- They're going to be here soon, They already know what I’ve done.” His voice took on a pleading tone, and the boy looked into his eyes, and nodded. 

“I get it, okay.” The boy said, and wow, this was the first time Frank had ever heard his voice. It was a bit nasally and scratchy but also hauntingly smooth at the same time. “You need me to follow instructions when I wake up... or something?” 

Frank nodded, pleased, but winced as another round of gunfire opened up, resounding through the hallways. He was definitely running out of time. The thing about Death was that it didn’t give a fuck about the difference between consciousness and reality. If it wanted you, it was going to fucking get you. 

The boy frowned suddenly. “What- what is going on? I mean, where am I even? And who are you-” He was cut off by Frank suddenly throwing his palm over the boy’s mouth, muffling the rest of his rambling. He didn’t have time for this, because he could feel with every ounce of his being that death was so fucking close. He couldn’t afford to lose the boy again.

He made a squeak of surprise, and Frank narrowed his eyes at him and tightened his grip over his face. He mimicked a “shh” face and leant even closer to whisper in the guy’s ear. 

“Just, please, when you wake up, don’t forget. Don’t forget my face. Because if you do,” Frank’s eyes filled with tears, and he cursed himself for getting choked up. Another stupid fucking thing that shouldn’t have been happening to a vampire. Yes, they can feel emotions and shit, but not like this. This was unnatural, and just reminded him of the situation at hand. His voice was nearly inaudible and cracked as he whispered, “Because if you do, then you, and everyone you love- will not live to see another day.” Okay, maybe a bit dramatic, but he had to get his fucking point across. He wasn’t lying, either. They would both die if he didn’t.

He didn’t get to say anything else, though, because the boy suddenly woke up and the connection snapped, and Frank went flying back into his own body. 

 

☆

 

Early September, 2007

The first thing he did when he woke up was tell Ryan. Ryan was his best friend, by choice. Brendon was his best friend by necessity, but Frank didn’t tell him shit. Frank actually liked Ryan, because he was actually bearable to be around.

“Ryan!” Frank hollered, banging on the front door of the Mayor’s house, too impatient to knock politely and wait. 

He heard an unintelligible yell back, and then the thumping of footsteps on the wooden staircase, before the front door opened. “What the hell do you–.”

Ryan shut himself up at the look on Frank’s face. He couldn't tell if Frank was about to cry, puke, or all three at once. “Can I come in?” Frank asked.

Ryan nodded. “Let’s go to my room.”

The two boys sat in Ryan’s room for hours, and Frank relayed everything that had happened on his failed hunt while Ryan just sat and listened, because he’s a good friend. Eventually, Frank finished his final sentence with, “--And I don’t know what to do now, because if I can’t get him here, all the way from New Jersey, then I’m still going to fucking die because without him we can’t do the fucking ritual!”

Ryan pondered that for a second, looking off into the distance before turning back to Frank. “So we get him to Dawesbury then.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “And how do you expect to be able to do that? We can’t exactly kidnap him, I don’t think he’d be too willing."

“Yeah, good point.” Ryan said. “But maybe we don’t have to kidnap him. Maybe we can get him here by… I don’t know, gentle encouragement?”

Frank scoffed. “How are we going to gently encourage him to come to some random-ass town two thousand miles away?”

“Well,” Ryan said slowly, gesturing with his hands. “We could get my Dad to send one of his guys out there, y’know, work a little magic and get him here.”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t wanna mess with his head, or his family. I already fucked up his life and killed him…” He trailed off because to be honest, he didn’t have any idea what else he could even do. 

Ryan looked at him with pleading eyes. “Dude, c’mon, just say the word and we can get him over here. Seriously. What other options do we have?”

“Ugh.” Frank said, hanging his head and pushing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Yay!” Ryan said, brightening. “I’m not letting you die on me that easily. We’re supposed to be spending eternity together, don’t fuckin’ forget!”

Frank smiled weakly. “Of course, how could I?”

Ryan stuck his tongue out at him. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to my Dad. Do you want to come with me?”

Surprisingly, it didn’t take that much to convince the Mayor of Dawesbury to send out his henchmen to hypnotize the hospital staff in Jersey, and Frank almost couldn’t believe his luck when he got told that it worked. That some random-ass lies were spun about Dawesbury being a ‘nice change of pace’, and that the boy was better off going there for a rehabilitation period instead of staying in Jersey. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel guilty, though, because he was completely turning this guy’s life upside down. The guilt didn’t outweigh his relief however. Maybe that was selfish of him.

When he was told by Ryan that the guy was coming within a week, he did a cartwheel, even though he was certain he’d never done one before in his life and he had zero idea when he learnt how.

The one downside, however, is that the boy’s family had to move into the one and only free house in Dawesbury. It made sense, considering that no-one new ever moved in and no-one ever left, but Frank couldn’t deny that he was apprehensive about having the boy move into his old house, where he had lived with his parents before the attack all those years ago. The house had been left uninhabited for years, and Frank had actually visited it once just to keep the memory still fresh in his mind. It had been the biggest mistake of his life.

Due to his ‘ghostly powers’, he was able to see spirits. Shouldn’t have been that much of a problem, right? Well it became a fucking problem when you step into your childhood home and the first fucking thing you see is the ghost of your dead mother staring you straight in the face. Frank had bolted out of the house quicker than he even knew he was able to move, and he hadn’t stopped for breath until he had made it back home, where he had then collapsed onto his bed with a sob. It hurt him so badly to know that his mother hadn’t been able to move on, and hadn’t been able to find peace. The only thing that had given him some sort of comfort had been the fact that she wouldn’t have had to feel anything anymore, but to know that she had so much anger pent up that she was unable to pass through the afterlife filled him with so much sadness. He had just wanted for her to be happy in death, at least, but she couldn’t even have that. It fucking broke him, and he had vowed to never return, atleast for the sake of his own sanity. 

Now someone was moving back into that house, the same house with a very angry ghost inhabiting it. It had worried Frank to no end, and he was hoping with everything in him that the boy would at least be safe from his mother’s spirit. There had been times where he lurked around the house, too afraid to go inside but close enough to beam don’t hurt him into every square foot of the house in the hopes that she would understand. 

He didn’t know if she had gotten the message, though. 

When school had started back up, Frank was a bundle of nerves and excitement about the prospect of getting to meet this mystery soul mate, but he came crashing back to earth when he realised that there was no fucking way he could hang out with him while there were other vampires around. Which happened to be, like, half the fucking school. Other vampires would be able to see their bind, that same crackle of electricity connecting the two of them that was made visible to light-sensitive eyes (like those of vampires) everytime the two of them locked eyes. He couldn’t afford to have other people finding out, because then he would probably be burnt at the stake.

If there was one fact about vampires that had to be known, it was that they were race -or species- supremacists. One would think that if they are able to care for and co-exist with humans then maybe they would see them as equals, but instead having to provide for them gave them some sort of elitist power trip and they saw themselves as the superior species, which Frank thought was bullshit. Because of that, the thought of a vampire turning themselves back into a human was seen as a betrayal of a gift. That meant that usually vampires who found their bind-mate would commit a ritualistic suicide as proof of their devotion to their species.

Frank didn’t want to commit fucking seppuku. 

That meant that he couldn’t hang out with him at school. That also meant that no one could know. Just him, Ryan, and Ray, a friendly half-vampire who he had employed to befriend and keep an eye on the boy. ‘Employed’ was a strong word, though, it was more like he had just asked him to show him around and make sure that he wouldn’t realise that half the town were blood-sucking creatures. 

On the first day back, Frank was equal parts crushed and equal parts elated to see the guy in person and realise for the first time that he was hot. Like, seriously hot. Like, so hot that Frank wanted to bang his head repeatedly against the wall and then also cackle like a supervillain because this guy was his, literally. It was a struggle keeping his eyes off him when he walked into the first class of the school year 15 minutes late, and he was kind of disappointed in his investigative skills when he only learnt through the teacher that his name was Gerard.

Gerard. He liked that name.

He wasn’t staring at Gerard for the whole lesson, it was just that from his vantage point at the back of the classroom, he had a pretty good view. A very pretty view. He was also pleased to see him and Ray talking, and he overheard a bit of their conversation and was satisfied that they would be good friends. A job well done, if he may say.

The thing about Frank was that he was predictable as fuck. He was also kind of an idiot. Despite the fact that he had promised himself he was going to stay away from Gerard, he couldn’t help himself from ‘accidentally’ nudging him in the doorway out of English. Gerard turned his head around, and he looked pissed, and Frank was hoping with everything in his being that he would recognise him or something or give him any hint that he knew who he was, and he couldn’t tell if he got it. Standing closer to Gerard, he realised that somehow the guy was even prettier up close, which had to be a crime of some sort. The smell of him was also overwhelming, sweet but not in an overpowering way, but in a pleasant way and he wanted to stick his face into the crook of Gerard's neck and breathe him in like he was huffing paint. He also felt something tugging at him in his gut, and he didn’t have to look down to know that if he did, he would have seen the bind shimmering between them. Which reminded him, he had to stop, because sooner or later someone was going to fucking see and then they were going to tell anyone and then Frank would be burnt at the stake by vampire supremacists. So, he mumbled a sorry and walked away, trying to ignore the feeling of Gerard’s eyes on his back.

The next class was even more difficult, because of course Gerard was in his fucking biology class, and of course he had to sit next to Frank and Brendon, and -like usual-, Brendon decided that the first monday back was a perfect time to start making fun of someone. It took every goddamn bit of Frank’s concentration to not look over at Gerard, which was pretty damn difficult when Brendon started talking to Gerard. For fuck’s sake. 

“Yo, excuse you?” Brendon said, and Frank fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Uhm, hello to you too I guess?” Gerard said, laughing a little. “Is that how you introduce yourself to everyone?”

Brendon barked out a laugh, and Frank bit back a little giggle of his own. Hot and funny? Okay, this he could work with.

“Hah! Fair enough.” Brendon said, smirking. “I’m Brendon. And you are?”

Frank fought the urge to shift uncomfortably because he could feel Gerard's eyes boring into the side of his head, and he once again had to restrain himself before he did something really, really stupid. 

“I’m Gerard. Who’s your little friend here?” He asked, nodding his head in Frank's direction. Frank prayed with every part of himself that Brendon wouldn’t entertain a response. Just once.

Unfortunately, Brendon grabbed ahold of his shoulder, and laughed. “Oh this idiot? Yeah, his name’s Frank. Although you might have already heard that, he’s infamous here.” Frank winced. What the hell, Brendon.

Gerard raised an eyebrow at Frank. “Infamous… how?” He asked.

Brendon just laughed again. Frank wanted to slap him. “You’ll see, probably. Might just have something to do with the fact he’s got about 13 girlfriends! Hah! And, that he’s loud as fuck. Can’t complain though, I am too.”

Frank had to bite his tongue. He might have been loud, but he didn’t ‘have 13 girlfriends,’ in fact, he didn’t even know if he liked girls. Sure, he’d hooked up with a few of them, but he never really got invested. It didn’t feel as amazing as everyone had made it out to be, so. Either he was missing out on something or he was totally gay. 

“Right… okay.” Gerard said, turning to face the front of the classroom. Frank silently sent Gerard a prayer of thanks.

“You got a girlfriend?” Brendon asked, and oh god Frank was going to punch him right in the middle of biology.

“Uh, no. I don’t.” Gerard answered, sounding slightly anxious.

“Righttt…” Brendon said, nodding to himself. “You’re a dude-kisser, makes sense.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard tensed, and he turned to face Brendon, lips pressed into a tight line. “Is that any of your business, man?”

Brendon laughed. “No, I love your kind. You’re all so… fucking weird. Totally rad. Totally.” Yep, Frank was actually going to punch him. Sometimes he had no idea how he managed to live with the guy. He deserved a medal. 

Brendon smirked again. “Am I your type, Gerard?”

“Fuck off, dude.” Gerard murmured, and Frank would be an idiot not to see how uncomfortable he looked.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” Brendon pouted, before yelping as Frank elbowed him in the ribs. Serves that asshole right.

“What the fuck, man! You’re always defending these weird ass-” He got cut off as Frank elbowed him again, this time harder. Frank looked at Brendon in warning, trying his best to replicate the same hard stare he’d seen his Dad give him when Brendon was acting out of line. It seemed to work, and Brendon turned his attention from Gerard back to Frank. Now, Frank had to sit through a whole lesson of talking at Brendon so he would be distracted and wouldn’t try and go after Gerard again.

After an excruciating hour of talking Brendon’s ear off, Frank was finally free and he could get some reprieve in the form of Ryan. God, that guy was a lifesaver. As Brendon and Frank exited the classroom and Ryan appeared from who-knows-where, Frank once again cursed Brendon’s big mouth because he immediately launched into some homophobic tangent about Gerard, and Frank and Ryan both winced at each other. Frank also wanted to slam his head in a door because he was fairly certain Gerard had heard. Fucking hell, now Gerard was going to think Frank was the biggest asshole on the planet, because Brendon was the biggest asshole on the planet.

Most of the day had passed without incident, until Brendon decided he was going to harass Gerard again as the poor guy was trying to leave, and after Brendon shut up about, “Don’t forget, I’m not done with you,” or whatever bullshit he was spewing, Frank decided he had to intervene. If he couldn’t do it at school then the least he could do was tell Brendon to fuck off outside of school.

When the two boys got home, -actually, when Brendon got home close to dinnertime, Frank had already been home for ages-, Frank cornered Brendon.

“Alright, dude, I don’t know what he did to you but you’ve gotta leave that guy alone.”

“Who?” Brendon asked, looking genuinely confused. “Oh, right. That little gay boy. Why? You like him or something?”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you to not be an asshole?”

Brendon smirked. “Yeah, it would. Sorry Frankie, it’s just who I am!” He tried walking upstairs but Frank was faster, grabbing him by the arm with surprising strength for his height.

“No, Brendon, I'm serious. Leave him alone.” 

Brendon wrenched his arm out of Frank’s grip. “And what are you gonna do if I don’t?”

“I’m telling Dad that you were doing coke in the bathroom at Nick’s house.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.” Brendon said, eyebrows high.

Frank narrowed his eyes. “Yes I fucking would. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you owe me about $200? Don’t touch Gerard and I won’t bring it up again. Deal?”

Brendon considered his options but then breathed out a sigh. “Fine. Deal.” 

Frank grinned. Now he could start ‘Operation Win Gerard Over’. That couldn’t be too hard, could it?

Notes:

im curious to hear everyone's thoughts...please yap at me in the comments if you so desire