Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s something strange, the life of a vampire. Being deemed a bloodsucking monster with little to no morals, acting only on urges of pure hunger and desire, a lust for blood and feeding off the innocent. Nobody wants to think of the life you live outside of feeding; nobody wants to think of you as anything but a creature of the night. 

Not far outside of the town of Newark, just close enough for comfort, lies a looming, dark Victorian mansion that’s been abandoned for years, to the knowledge of the townspeople, at least. In actuality, the mansion has been inhabited for decades, in secrecy. Inside the mansion lives a woman; somewhat of one, anyways. A vampire. Along with the two brothers she’d taken in after their Turning, Mikey and Gerard. The mansion belonged to the woman, she had lived there all her un-life, though forgotten by the rest of the town. While it seemed sad, the unconventional family had grown used to the way things were, and they were quite content with it. 

But today, the things that had always stayed the same, were changing. For good.

The woman, Anastacia, had gone out of town for a while, to make the long journey from America to Romania, where she stayed several days in Transylvania at the order of the Vampire Council. While she was there, she must not have noticed the strange smell of garlic coming from the blood they’d offered until it was too late.

And now, she lay dying on her velvet couch, choking out breaths and lurching forwards to cough from time to time. Mikey and Gerard watched on in silent anguish, feigning poise for the sake of their company–the Vampire Council hailing from New York, two women and a man. Each matched the other’s stern and blank expression. Gerard glanced over at them from time to time, wondering if they still had hearts or if they were removed as an initiation ceremony. He wouldn’t doubt it…

Anastacia let out a painfully violent cough, spurts of blood splattering the carpet. In her weak state, she managed to call Gerard over to her with a hoarse voice, “Gerard, hon, come here.”

He rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her so their faces were parallel. She ran a shaking hand down through his black hair, resting on his cheek.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m doing this to you…”

Gerard’s heart ached. While strained, he could still hear the sheer pain and sorrow in her words and it tore him apart. He cast his gaze down, placing his hand atop hers.

“It’s okay, momma. Don’t apologize.”

“No, it–” Her chest heaved as she forced out another cough, blood leaking down the sides of her mouth at this point, “I-it’s not… I was supposed to take care of you. I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“Momma, please don’t blame yourself. I understand it was an accident; I’m not mad and neither is Mikey.”

At the mention of his brother, he glanced over at him. Mikey was quivering, biting his fingers to keep from sobbing, but Gerard could tell he was only mere seconds away from breaking down completely. He knew after the Council had left Mikey would be crying until he couldn’t anymore. 

“You know, I always thought my death would have been more dignified,” Anastacia said, a weak smile on her lips, “Maybe a Slayer, God forbid. I’d never thought it’d be like this. I was never one for garlic, even before it could kill me.”

She began to laugh, which turned into another grueling cough. Suddenly her hand grew heavy in Gerard’s grasp, and when he loosened his fingers, he watched in despair as it fell limp against the side of the couch. 

“Oh, my God…”

“Gerard?”

He shook his head, pursing his lips as if vowing silence. The atmosphere was heavy in the room, the quiet only broken every once in a while by Mikey’s quiet sobs. 

So that was it, Gerard concluded. The woman who had been there for them since the bites in their neck were fresh, since they were still drinking straight from the source, the one who had taught them everything and helped them all their un-lives was just… gone. It was hard to come to terms with, and it’d be hard to adjust to existing without her; he felt guilty just sitting there.

He’d almost forgotten the Council was even there until the Head Councilwoman cleared her throat, breaking the mournful silence that had fallen over the room, “Gerard, if you are stable, we ask to see you privately. Come.”

He stood and followed the three out across the hallway and into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. The Head Councilwoman took her seat at the table, and the rest followed suit. Gerard stood awkwardly, his hands clasped in front of him.

“We are extremely sorry about Anastacia’s tragedy, to have her die on you and your brother is simply…” The Head Councilwoman lost her train of  thought, and discarded the sentence, “Anyways, I’m sure you have some kind of idea as to why we called you?”

Of course he did. The Vampire Council had only made the journey down here because of who Anastacia was to, not only them, but to the vampirekind inhabiting New England. Anastacia was assigned the very important task of keeping an eye on the Slayers. 

Right in the heart of Jersey resided the Head Slayer. Gerard knew next to nothing about her because Anastacia didn’t like to bring her work home. Anastacia kept an eye on her discreetly, going almost stalker to dig up any potential information or threats against vampires. Thankfully, she hadn’t had much big news since the 80’s, which felt like forever ago. It seemed the Head Slayer had gone strangely dormant, and Gerard wondered if that was the beginning of some master plan she had.

“Yes,” he answered finally, realizing he’d created an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like the 3rd time that night, “Yes. Is this about her job?”

“Indeed. The position she filled is empty now, and that position was not only vital but also extremely dangerous. No other vampire is willing to put themselves in that situation, which is why we need you, Gerard.”

His eyes widened, “What?” 

“We realize the weight of this request, but you must realize how important this really is. Not only to us and the rest of vampirekind, but to you and Mikey. Wouldn’t want somebody hurting him now, would we? Especially when you could have prevented it…”

Gerard pursed his lips. Damn guilt tripping vampires.

It’s not like he didn’t want to do this. Honestly, he was sort of excited, as he’d always wondered what Anastacia’s job entailed, but at the same time, doing what she did scared him. He was in no shape to confront the Head Slayer, should he come in contact with her.

“But… I can’t leave Mikey here all day,” He lied.

“Which is why we thought up a new assignment. You would be taking Anastacia’s place, but not directly. You see, the Head Slayer has a daughter that goes to the local high school not too far from this mansion. She’s a senior, and close enough to your mortal age you could sneak into the school, pretend to be a student and find her out.”

“You don’t know what she looks like?”

The Head Councilwoman shrugged, “We have no current file photo. The filthy Slayer seems to have dedicated her life to hiding her daughter’s face from the rest of the world, despite sending her to school. However…” she dug through the leather bag she’d brought with her, “We have this.”

She pulled out a laminated paper and slid it across the table for Gerard to look at. It was a head shot of who he assumed to be the Head Slayer. In bold print, beneath her photo, it read, “ JENNIFER MASTERS. ” Cheap ass name for a cheap ass bitch, he figured. Jennifer was nasty. Her face was old, her eyes and cheeks sunken in. Her thin lips were pulled down into an eternal tight frown, highlighted with a tacky shade of baby pink lipstick that did not go well with her overdone eyebrows and 10-shades-too-dark foundation. She had a failed attempt at a smokey eye smeared on her eyelids that accentuated the permanent evil look in her eyes. Her thinning and frizzy blonde hair was pulled so tight back into a ponytail Gerard thought it’d rip right off her head.

“Ugly, yes. Assuming you’ve had enough time to gawk at her appearance, we’ll be taking this back to New York with us. Now, back to your assignment. We’ve set you up to infiltrate the high school and find her daughter, keeping a close eye and ear on her to hear of any possible plans or attacks against us. While it’d be rather… cowardice for you to reject this, especially since we have no other choice, we can’t force you to do this. So, do you accept your assignment?”

He thought for a while. He had no fear of humans, as long as they weren’t armed. And a stake in a high schooler’s backpack would probably raise some red flags. But he left high school behind nearly 100 years ago, and now he had to go back? High school was Hell on Earth, from what he remembered, for not only him but Mikey too. Being as pale and closed-off as they were, kids in the 1800’s were quick to jump to the conclusion of VAMPIRES!! It was only after they were Turned and hid themselves away in the mansion that people got off their asses. 

Aside from having to deal with high school again, there was also Mikey to worry about. With him left all alone at home for 7 hours, he was like a sitting duck for Slayers. Would Jennifer know about Anastacia’s passing and Gerard’s absence, and take Mikey as ransom? Or just kill him right then and there? 

Maybe he could take Mikey with him? Oh, but, there was still one vampire in town…

Pete. Him and Mikey were best friends; Pete would come over like their mansion was a second home for him. Maybe, just to keep him out of harm for Mikey’s sake, maybe Pete could come with them. Maybe he could make some kind of agreement or compromise to the council to let him bring the two with them. 

“On one condition,” he said finally, “Mikey comes with. And not only him, his vampire friend Pete, too. Please. They’ll be out of harm. It’s for their own safety.”

The Head Councilwoman exhaled and stiffened her shoulders. She locked eyes with Gerard, her searing blood red irises burning into his. He quivered under her gaze. The Head Councilwoman looked mean, but she wasn’t, and Gerard knew that. Apparently not enough to not sweat whenever she looked at him.

“Very well.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Really?”

“Fine. We’ll enroll you all over the weekend. You start Monday. Good luck, and so sorry for Anastacia.” And with that, the Council picked up their things and made their way out the door, chuckling about something the man said in Romanian. As soon as Gerard heard the front door shut, he rushed out the kitchen door to Mikey in the living room, crying into a decorative pillow. His shaky body had replaced his mother’s; the Council had taken it back to Transylvania for a proper burial, something only the higher ups in vampirekind received.

“Are they gone?” Mikey sniffed.

Gerard nodded, “Are you gonna be alright?”

“Yes… no…”

“I get it kid, don’t worry. But she didn’t want us to cry.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Mikey snapped, making Gerard jump, “You’ve barely shed a tear all night! Did you even care? Do you even care? Are you just oh-so happy about the inheritance, oh yeah, you’re ecstatic about all the goddamn money, you don’t even care she’s gone! She’s dead, Gerard!”

“You think I don’t care?” Gerard said softly.

Mikey wiped his eyes, “You didn’t cry.”

“Mikey, I’m just as devastated as you are. But I don’t have time to mourn, I have you to worry about. Not to mention…” He trailed off. Was this really the best time to tell Mikey?

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s–”

“No, tell me. Please?”

Gerard sighed, “You remember how mom used to, like, stalk the Slayers in town?”

He winced, preparing the worst from Mikey. He didn’t get the worst, but saw his eyes go wide and his frown deepened.

“Well, we have to do that now. Not exactly, but… we have to go back to high school.”

“What?”

“Okay, let me explain. The Head Slayer mom used to deal with has a daughter, and the council doesn’t want us having direct contact with the Head Slayer herself, so they set us up to go to the same school as the daughter and keep an eye on her. We have no choice, y’know?”

Mikey was silent. Gerard couldn’t quite read his expression the way he usually could; some kind of mix of confusion, fear, and sadness all at once. The sadness could have been the tear streaks, though.

“And… because he’s a vampire, I got them to let Pete join us, too.”

“What!?” Mikey was attentive now, suddenly upright, “Gerard, what were you thinking?! I don’t want Pete getting involved in this!”

“Mikey, it’s for the best. If we left him alone all day, he’d be in danger. He’s only always over here because he’s scared of Slayers coming to his house, you know. I read his mind once.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, “Should I go over and tell him all this, then?” 

“Sure. I’m sure Jennifer doesn’t know mom’s dead yet.” 

Mikey was going to ask who Jennifer was, but shrugged it off. He stood off the couch, but before walking out the door he wrapped Gerard in a tight hug.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, kid.”

Contrary to the extravagance Anastacia loved about her mansion, Pete’s parents chose a small single-floor townhouse that blended in with everyone else’s. His parents were almost never home, as they usually had some kind of vampiric duties to deal with in Transylvania. But Pete didn’t mind. It only gave him more time to hang out with Mikey at his house, and when he was at his own, he could do whatever he wanted. Though he usually just spent his days watching shitty reality TV and sleeping on the couch, more often than not waking up to a half-eaten cold pizza on his coffee table he didn’t even remember ordering. 

He didn’t like his house. It was nice enough, but with him being home alone ninety percent of the time, it wasn’t much of a home. It was cold and empty. Not like Mikey’s. 

Mikey. He wouldn’t say this to his face–hell, he hadn’t told anyone but Patrick about it–but he was more or less in love with Mikey, and he had been for a while. He didn’t remember when it happened, or how, all he remembers is one day things just started seeming different. One day Mikey’s eyes seemed brighter, his smile wider, and a new force was pulling him towards him all of a sudden. He realized just how pretty he was, how comforting it was just to be around him, and how warm he was (which was weird, considering he was a vampire.) He wanted to be around Mikey as much as he could, which is why he was over so much.

And he was going to go over as soon as he got up off his ass long enough to make the drive, but the doorbell rang. He sat up on the couch but was hesitant to open the door.

“Who is it?” He called out.

“Mikey.”

It definitely sounded like Mikey. But what was he doing here? He’d only come over to his house, like, once. 

“Em… come in.”

The knob twisted from the other side and sure enough there was Mikey, “I know it’s weird for me to be over here instead of vice versa, but something happened. My mom is… she, uh…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Pete drew his conclusion, “Oh, Mikey…” He stood off the couch and pulled Mikey into a hug. He wasn't crying–he’d used up all his tears earlier–but his face was still damp up against Pete's. 

“That's not really why I'm here, though,” he said, “Can we sit?” 

Pete nodded and led him over to the couch. The TV was still playing some branch of The Real Housewives . He shut it off quickly.

“Do you remember what my mom used to do everyday? When you were over she'd be gone until way late in the day because she was watching the Slayers all day?” 

Pete's eyes widened, “You have to do that?”

“No, Pete. But something close…” Mikey paused, debating how to tell Pete without him freaking out, “A part of the Council was present when she died, and they told Gerard he'd have to take her place… but of course, he had to drag us into it too.”

“Us?! Mikey, I can't do that! I'd screw everything up on the first day!” 

“I know, but we're not doing what she did exactly. The Head Slayer has a daughter that goes to the high school, and the Council wants us to go to that high school and, yeah.”

Pete was silent for an absurd amount of time, his face contorted into some mix of confusion and surprise. “Why us?” He said finally.

Mikey shrugged, “Gerard said it was for the best, that it’d keep us safe. I have no control over this, Pete, I'm sorry.” He glanced at a nearby clock, “I should go. I don't want Gerard to worry.”

Pete caught Mikey in a hug before letting him get up off the couch. He held him in his arms for a few seconds, taking in the way his skin felt, his familiar warmth and scent, his breathing, as if he was never going to see Mikey again. He instantly dropped his arms as soon as Mikey subtly pulled away.

“Bye, Mikey.” Pete said faintly.

“See ya,” Mikey replied. He opened the door and Pete watched him leave until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Mikey’s sudden absence made the house cold again. Pete had never realized how eye-bleedingly bright and white the lights were, how dingy everything around him was until now. He was back to hating his house. 

He wished he could leave it and live with Mikey and Gerard permanently. His parents said that he stayed there when they were gone for upkeep purposes and to keep the house safe, but they lived in a nice neighborhood in a small New Jersey town. What could possibly happen that would be so bad?

Pete found little solace in curling up into himself in his couch and wallowing in his teenage angst, so instead he sought out the solace of the one person he trusted with every secret he had in his mind. He pulled out his phone and dialed the same number he had before a million times. 

“Hey, Pete.”

“Patrick, get over here. Right now.”

Chapter Text

Rain poured outside Monday morning, a great metaphor for the way Gerard was feeling about the day ahead. Obviously, in a school with a Slayer, not to mention an anonymous one, he had to worry about keeping his secret safe and his fangs unbarred. God forbid someone’s nose should bleed around him.

He didn’t usually dream, so it was strange that he did last night, and what he dreamed about was strange in itself. The minute sleep overtook him, he found himself in a dark hallway. Columns lined the blackened walls, cobwebs hid in corners and a layer of dust covered any available surface. He stood, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, being cautious every step he took. As he carried on down the hall, light started to grow, revealing a silhouette of someone at the end of it. They stood unmoving, staring dead ahead at nothing. Gerard took a step, freezing when his foot landed in something wet on the ground.

Blood. 

Blood. Blood from where? What is this, The Shining? Was the mysterious figure bleeding? 

“Hello?” Gerard called out.

They turned. The sheer horror of the person’s face made Gerard yell and stumble back. It was like looking at a three-day-dead corpse. The ghostly-white skin of his face was draped thin over his skull, the bones underneath sticking through. He had a permanent look of fear and agony, and his mouth hung open, covered in blood, showing… fangs. But not the usual vampire fangs, more like seal’s tusks–long, cumbersome, filthy. And then he saw the source of the blood, or rather, felt it. 

Pouring from two small holes in the apparition’s neck, soaking his clothes, leaking out like water from a broken faucet. It just kept flowing; Gerard didn’t know someone could have that much blood. 

But as he began to rise, he felt a familiar substance suddenly gather around his mouth. Suddenly his fangs began to ache as if being extracted straight from his gums. He put a hand to his lips, and when he pulled it back, he saw it was drenched in blood. The apparition fell limp on the ground. Gerard wanted to scream, he wanted to scream and cry until he lost his voice, because now he knew where the blood was coming from. Now he knew it was all his fault. Everything was all his fault.

He jolted up in his bed, breathing heavily. Mikey was still asleep in the bed over, undisturbed by Gerard’s outburst. He glanced at the clock; 5:49. 10 minutes before he was supposed to get up. Ugh.

He threw the covers off himself and made his way to the bathroom to shower. He had a long time to think about what had happened in the past few days as the hot water fell over his body, and especially about the dream.

Who was that boy, that man, that corpse? What had happened to him? Had Gerard done that to him? 

He’d never had a dream that seemed so prophetical before. If he were to dream, it’d either be something incredibly mundane, so bland he couldn’t remember it when he woke up the next morning, if not that something stupid that made him wake up thinking, “what the hell?” But this was different. Something told him this was more than just a dream, but what could it mean? Who was that apparition; who did he resemble? It made no sense to him. He knew nobody but the local vampires, and a few overseas, but nobody looked even close to that… thing from the dream.

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been in the shower until Mikey was banging on the door and snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly shut off the water and hurried out of the bathroom.

Truth be told, he had no idea what to wear to school. When he went to high school before, things were

different. Not only had it been over a hundred years since the last time he stepped foot in one, at the one he did go to they had school-issued uniforms, which made things easier. But now, in 2005, things were different. He was secretly hoping that their school would have uniforms, but unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

He didn’t care about not fitting in–hell, he’d been the weird pale kid in all black even before he was a vampire. But there was something intimidating about it all now… maybe it was the fact he was going to school with a Slayer. 

He’d be easy to pick out in a crowd. He hadn’t seen much of the local mortals, but he knew for one that they were all cheery, happy-go-lucky average citizens in pastel yellow townhomes and office jobs and hey, a woman to come home to and 2 kids! He stuck out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else in this godforsaken town. 

“If you’re going to wear something stupid and flaunty, I’d advise against it,” Mikey startled him, “We’d get caught like that.” He made a snapping motion with his fingers.

“I’m not, don’t worry.”

“What are you going to wear, then?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. What do you think I should?”

“Something inconspicuous. Think about it; what do you have in your closet that won’t make you seem like a stupid-rich vampire? I’m gonna go down and call Pete, see if he’s up.”

“Okay.” Gerard called out as Mikey ran down the stairs. 

After a few more minutes of debating, he finally got up and started digging through his closet. He pulled out the first thing he picked up that wasn’t made of satin or a fine fabric–a worn-out band shirt with a design too faded to read… Black Flag or something, he was sure of it. He paired that with black flare pants, a fur-collared jacket, and some worn out boots. It contrasted nearly everything he’d worn before today, but that was what he wanted, right?

He made his way down the staircase into the kitchen to get a chilled bloodbag from the fridge. Bloodbags were sent out by the closest branch of the Council, which for that was the New York branch. They were sent out if the head of the coven had requested so, for whatever reason. Some vampires simply preferred to drink animal blood from a bag rather than human blood from a jugular, and Anastacia was one of them. She preferred the bloodbags because it made her seem like less of a, well, monster. 

Mikey was still talking into their outdated landline when he reached the fridge, twisting his finger around the cord like in one of those cliche teen flicks. 

“What are you wearing? …No, not like that, Pete, I just wanna make sure you don’t look too, y’know, vampire-y. No? Alright. Yeah, just some jeans and my Joy Division shirt… Yeah, wear your eyeliner, looks good on you.”

Gerard rolled his eyes as he stabbed his fangs through the plastic of the bloodbag, letting the sweet liquid fill his mouth as he drained it. 

Mikey placed his hand over the speaker and turned to Gerard, “I said don’t look too obvious; God, you look like Dracula’s long-lost goth son.” 

“Shut up, I look fine.” He argued, “And anyways, won’t it look less suspicious if we all show up in a group? Vampires don’t usually travel in pods, we’re not nuns.”

“Fine. But we need to leave soon and get Pete… yeah, I’m still here, don’t worry. We’ll be there in a sec. Oh, make sure you don’t have any blood on the corners of your mouth or anything, alright? It’d blow our cover… ‘kay, be right there.” 

Gerard tossed the empty bag in the trash, “If you're done talking with your boyfriend we really should be going.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Mikey mumbled. 

“Sure, and we don’t drink blood.” 

Gerard started towards the door, slinging the messenger bag he’d managed to dig out of his closet over his shoulder. Mikey followed suit, still grumbling about how he and Pete weren’t a thing. Gerard was only half listening by the time the two reached his car. 

The trail leading out from the mansion to the main road hadn’t been paved since the mansion was built and people were still using horse-drawn carriages, and how Gerard wished he cared enough to replace the bumpy, uneven road with something easier to drive on, but he rarely got out of the house enough to bother. 

After picking up Pete, they realized just how close they were to the high school, to the end of their un-lives. Now, faced with the intimidating, bland building coming into their view, all of them were consumed with an overwhelming sense of dread that made Gerard want to turn the car around and drive right back home, let the Slayers kill them. There are worse fates, and this was one of them. 

As they pulled into the parking lot, they were faced with confused and judgemental stares from the surrounding students. Gerard stiffened. Did they already catch on? Was there a rumor about them that every high schooler in the area knew about but them?

But nobody drew stakes. Nobody threw garlic at their car or tried to Carrie them with holy water instead of pigs blood. They settled on a spot under a tree, way far back in the corner, where it’d be a walk from the entrance but at least they were hidden. Out of sight, out of mind… 

They made it through the front doors with their heads down and hurried to the front office, managing to draw as little attention to themselves as possible. The women in the office gave them nearly the exact treatment everyone else had so far, only they tried to hide it behind false smiles. Gerard, being the oldest in the group, took it upon himself to endure possibly one of the agonizingly stressful conversations he’d ever had:

“Eh… miss?”

The lady he’d put himself in front of tapped away on her keyboard, completely disregarding the three.

“Miss?”

“Yuh-huh,” she held up a finger, continuing to type.

Gerard folded his hands together, deciding it was best to stay silent and wait for her.

Finally she spun slightly in her swivel chair to face him, “Okay, what?”

“My name is Gerard Way… we’re the new students, just enrolled?” He motioned to Pete and Mikey behind him.

The secretary blinked, “New students?”

“Yes…”

She turned back to her desk, shoving papers here and there to uncover the phone. She pressed three numbers and held the receiver up to her ear.

“Hi, Miranda… yeah, uh, were we meant to have new students today… oh! Oh, yes, I’ll uh- yes, Miranda, yes… alright… thank you, yuh-huh.”

Back to shuffling papers. Finally she held out three schedules to Gerard.

“If you need any directions, a teacher will be happy to help. Bye now.” Her fingers returned to the keyboard.

Gerard took the papers from her and was about to leave, but someone else pushed the door open from the outside. A short black-haired boy muttered out a quiet, ‘sorry,’ before pushing past the group. Pete and Mikey made their way out, but Gerard lingered for a second. The boy looked… strangely familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t want to stare, but for some reason his eyes lingered on the stranger as he spoke casually with the secretary.

“Gerard!” Mikey hissed. He took this as a sign to catch up with them.

“Did you see that guy that walked in there after us?” He asked.

Mikey nodded, “I didn’t get a good look at him, though. Why?”

“I felt like I recognized him. It was weird.”

“Maybe you have seen him before,” Pete shrugged, “Hey! That dream you were telling us about in the car!”

Gerard froze and a shiver ran down his whole body. The dream. He hadn’t thought about that since before he’d left the house. The mere thought of it made his stomach turn, but was Pete right? But how could he have dreamed of someone he hadn’t met until now? If it was him, how did his subconscious know that he had existed? Nothing was adding up, should Pete be right. 

He disregarded it for now, deciding he’d stay up all night thinking about it later. For now, his main objective was getting to his first period class.

He waved goodbye to Pete and Mikey as they split and made their way to their respective classes and started down the hall, reading the room numbers as he went. He hoped that being a new student wouldn’t subject him to those crazy humiliating “get-up-in-front-of-the-class-and-ruin-your-life” situations. They’d ask his name, and what he likes to do, where he’s from; Gerard. Nothing, really. That scary mansion outside of town? Ugh. No way was he doing that.

Fortunately, when he reached his first hour English class, the only eyes that fell on him were the teacher’s, and just for a second, delivering a quick nod. Nobody else acknowledged him, absorbed  in their own conversations with each other. He quickly scanned the crowd and tried to find anyone who resembled Jennifer at all. A handful of girls were subject to her drastically different foundation shade condition, but none of them matched her face. He took a seat in the far back before anyone else could.

He didn’t feel like listening, so he pulled out the notebook meant for the class and began scribbling down the first thing his mind could conjure up; evil, red-eyed vampire unicorns… from outer space… with bat wings, and… laser guns… fighting aliens. He only paused once to glance up at the board and take in what he could read before the teacher switched slides. Something about grammar. Who cares.

He was still caught up on that boy, though. The apparition from the dream was but a faded memory now, his already twisted features even more unclear in Gerard’s mind. He thought of the blood still, the pouring blood, the blood that would have filled the room and drowned them both if it kept flowing. All that blood… the horrible sight…

Thinking of the boy and the creature from the dream made his heart sink.  From his glances in the office, Gerard saw him so full of life. Smiling, laughing. In his eyes, through the vast expanses of  sparkling hazel, he saw his beating heart. Gerard knew he was passionate down inside, about what, he wasn’t sure. But comparing him to the dreadful apparition hurt him. He didn’t want to imagine him that way, he only wanted to imagine him the way he first saw him.

The loud bell signaling the end of class broke him from his thoughts. He quickly gathered his things and shoved them into his messenger bag. He met up with Mikey in the halls on the way to his next class.

“Hey, do you have that overlaying feeling of dread, too?” 

Gerard nodded.

“Must be something in the air.”

“Or the fact we could be getting followed by a Slayer right now?”

“That too.”

They turned down a hallway, but were quickly stopped by someone in their path, his arms outstretched to the sides of him (as if that would do anything.) Gerard looked up; this guy was big. Like, a really ugly high school bodybuilder. His hair was buzzed, his eyes dark, and wimpy muscles attempted to show through the extra weight he flaunted. His sneer turned into a gross smirk upon seeing the two below him. 

“Well, would you look at what we have here?” He said condescendingly.

Gerard sighed, “What? What do we have here, man?”

“Couple’a sissies!” Him and his posse of jocks erupted into ugly laughter.

While Mikey and Gerard weren’t exactly unaccustomed to insults like this, it was just plain distasteful and tacky to make a scene like this, and especially trying to make enemies with people he didn’t even know the first name of. Gerard waited until their cackling fit had ended before he spoke up again.

“Are you quite done? We need to get to class.” He attempted to push past the group, but the leader slid over to block his path.

“You ain’t goin’ anywhere. You new? I ain’t seen your face before.”

“Yeah, we’re new, okay? So would you please-?”

Suddenly the leader grabbed him by his shirt collar and slammed him up against the nearby lockers, not hard enough to break anything but hard enough to scare him. His eyes widened.

“Who do you think you are?”

Gerard bit his lip to prevent something snarky from seeping out and getting him in a worse situation than he was already in. He studied the leader as his face contorted into cheesy anger and he raised his free hand, curled into a fist. He braced for impact–

But it never came. Instead, the tight grasp he once had on his shirt collar fell almost immediately, and so did he, landing on the ground with a grunt and a thud. His group didn’t bother to help him up, only snickered and walked off. As he rolled over, Gerard saw his nose was bleeding. Shit. He whipped his head away.

The guy stumbled up on his feet and yelled, “Damn whore! How’d you like my fist in your face, huh?”

“Can’t hurt much more than that fist up your ass!” An unfamiliar female voice shouted back. Gerard turned back around, guessing the blood was out of sight by now. 

In front of him, laughing to herself with her hands on her hips, was the one person he felt he was going to be able to tolerate in this school. A girl donning a striped black and white tank top, fingerless gloves, a studded belt and ripped skinny jeans. Her black hair was styled into a choppy side swept look and charcoal lined her dark eyes. She turned to Gerard, still smiling.

“At ease, soldier.” She gave Gerard’s shoulder a playful shove, “What, no thank you? I saved your ass, man, I deserve a little something.”

Gerard snapped back to reality, “Oh- uhm, yeah… thanks.”

She held out a glove-clad hand for him, “I'm Mitsy, Mitsy Malice. You're the new kid?” 

“Yeah, I- uh, I'm Gerard. This is Mikey.”

“So what’s your guys’ deal?” She asked, starting down the hall as the two hurried to catch up with her, “It’s not every day this hellhole gets new students, let alone in the middle of the semester. What, was this an ultra-specific punishment from your parents?”

She didn’t know the half of it. Gerard laughed to himself, “Yeah, no, we uh…” He faltered. The one thing he hadn’t been prepared for was that question . How could he have been so stupid? He was totally screwed now; someone would get curious and try to dig up some background on him, find out he was born in 1875, him and Mikey and Pete would all be chased  out of town with torches and pitchforks. He could see it now…

“There’s actually three of us.” Mikey cut in, “You’ll probably see him around at some point, his name is Pete. Yeah, me and Gerard moved here because our mom just got through a nasty divorce, she wanted out of our hometown, and Pete just kind of followed. So, what period lunch do you have?”

When Mitsy looked away, he mouthed ‘thank you’ to Mikey.

The next few periods before lunch were a blur, nothing exciting, just the usual meaningless high school information he’d forget by next week, probably. But one class stood out; biology. Was it because he was extremely interested in what was on the board, or was it because of who was sitting in front of him?

Gerard wasn’t sure if he’d blinked at all in the hour he spent in that class. His eyes were locked on the back of the boy’s head as if he was the only one in the room. He knew he looked weird doing this, maybe even a bit creepy, but he could care less. He needed to figure out what it was about this boy, this stranger he hadn't seen once before today, that he was so enamored with. What was so special about him, besides his rugged look that no one else had, not even Mitsy. His leather jacket, worn-out jeans, his sneakers that looked about 5 seconds away from falling apart. 

No, that wasn’t it. So what was it? He didn’t even know his first name or anything about him. All he knew was he had the most gorgeous hazel eyes he’d ever seen. Was he in love? Is that why he was so attracted to this boy, because he really was in the literal sense? Maybe Mitsy knew something about him? Gerard could ask her at lunch. 

Biology was boring. All he could remember was the Mystery Boy and, like, maybe a few words the teacher had said. He was ecstatic by the time the bell rang and he was able to speak to Pete and Mikey again. 

“I need help.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow, “Something happened already?”

“No, but… agh, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Is this about that kid?” Pete asked.

“No… yes. Ugh, he’s in my biology class, and he sat right in front of me. I don’t know what it is about him, he’s just so…”

“Attractive?” Mikey suggested.

“I guess you could say that.”

Mitsy came to their table and sat down next to Gerard, “Who?”

“Gerard’s only been here for a few hours, and he’s already found a guy to fawn over.”

“I’m not fawning over him, Mikey.” Gerard argued, “I’m just… infatuated with him.  But it’s weird because I don’t know a single thing about him. I don’t even know his name.”

“What does he look like? Maybe I know him.” Mitsy said, taking a bite out of her pizza.

“Well, he’s short… black hair, hazel eyes… leather jacket?” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s Frank, he’s my friend.”

It was a miracle that Mitsy knew him–Frank. To an extent, at least. That gave him an advantage. He didn’t think of Frank as the kind to ridicule anyone different from him if they tried to talk to him, but especially now since they both knew Mitsy things made more sense than they would without it. Gerard felt better about it all now, but that didn’t explain why he was drawn to Frank in the first place, or why he couldn’t stop comparing him and the apparition.

“I could introduce you to him. Let me see your schedule,” Mitsy offered, holding out an opened hand.

Gerard dug in his pocket for his schedule and handed it to her. After analyzing it for a minute, she told him, “We all have art together, 7th period. Sit by me, alright? Just don’t be stupid around him and let me do most of the talking.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, “Am I even gonna get a word out?”

“Yes! Of course you will, dude. I can get you started on bands and movies and junk. You like the Misfits?”

Gerard nodded.

“He’ll love you.”

Lunch passed by with him barely saying a word, and so did the rest of the day. Come 7th period he arrived only a few seconds before the bell to find his spot next to Mitsy occupied by her bag, and sure enough there was Frank on her right. He froze in the doorway at first, his legs stuck in place like his shoes had been glued to the floor. Looking at him face to face, he realized just how gorgeous Frank was. Maybe he was in love with him…

“Dude!” Mitsy waved him over, “Over here!”

He forced his legs to move, trying not to show how bad he was trembling. What was he so afraid of? Mitsy said she’d help him, and he had faith in her, so why was he so scared?

“Hey. Uh, Frank, this is my new friend, Gerard.”

“Hey.” Frank said.

“Hi.”

Gerard was afraid the awkward exchange would create a silence that hung in the air, but Mitsy wasn’t going to let that happen. She got them started on movies, which turned into bands, which turned into Misfits, which got Frank going on a spiel that basically took up the rest of the period. It was nice talking to Frank. It was easy. Gerard didn’t feel the need to talk or act a certain way around him, he didn’t feel like he needed to be someone that he wasn’t. When Frank left the table to wash his paintbrushes, Mitsy smirked and nudged Gerard’s arm.

“What?”

“You know what… I told you this would all work out, didn’t I?” 

Gerard smiled. He felt his face heat up slightly, “We’re just talking, Mitsy. It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, but it could be something.”

Frank sat back down at the table and Mitsy forced Gerard to change the subject as if they were never talking about him. 

7th period ended soon after and they all parted ways. Gerard fought the crowd in the hallways to meet up with Mikey and Pete so they could walk out to the car together and finally feel the sweet release of making it out of this hellhole, as Mitsy called it earlier. Gerard was happy to be out of school, but he knew that the whole time he was home he’d be missing him horribly. God. He’d never felt like this about anyone before. It was… strange. It was weird to him, because he still couldn’t figure out what made Frank so different from everyone else. If it was because he stood out, then he would have felt the same about Misty, but he didn’t. Maybe Pete was right, maybe it was the dream. Maybe today was what had happened before.

But that would mean… the blood… the bites.

Gerard lay wide awake that night, shivering in his cold bed with the covers torn off him. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want the dream to return. But still, the visions from the night before plagued his mind. Haunted him. He thought of Frank. He thought of the apparition. His stomach sank as he lined up their features—nose, eyes, blood-stained lips. The similarities were horrifying him. He closed his eyes, and waited for the sleep that never came.

Chapter Text

“No, Mitsy!”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Mikey said, keeping the folded up note out of Mitsy’s reach, “He said it was private. There could be something really serious in here and I don’t want you reading it.”

“Ugh, fine. But as soon as you read it I wanna know.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. Before they’d got out of the car that morning, Pete gave him a note and told him to read it when he was alone. He couldn’t read it around anybody, not even Gerard, which he thought was strange. Gerard was his brother, he kind of deserved to know. 

But whatever. He would respect Pete’s wishes and wait until he was completely by himself before he’d even open it. The suspense was killing him, though. What did Pete have to say or confess that was so bad he couldn’t do it up front? They’d known each other for so long, Mikey had assumed they were comfortable enough for really anything. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. When lunch ended he ducked into the bathroom and locked himself in a stall, peeling open the note.

Dear MWay,

I’m in love with you–

He gasped and kept reading.

–and I have been for a while now. You are everything to me. Yes, this is the reason I’m always over at your house, the reason I hold our hugs for just a little too long, and yes, this is the reason why this is a note. I wish I could have told you in person, believe me, but my guts wouldn’t have been able to keep my breakfast down. So, do what you want with this. Tear this note up and never speak to me again, or kiss me long and hard the next time you see me (which, I’d prefer the latter.) But, you know. It’s your call. Just know. I love you, Mikey. I always will.

PW.

Mikey was stunned. He had his suspicions, sure, because Pete wasn’t exactly the most discreet about these things–he could recount several times where Pete had gone on rants about how pretty his eyes or his smile were when Mikey said he didn’t like how he looked. He brushed it off a lot of the time, because that’s just how he’d known Pete to be. He just assumed they were normal compliments. But he’d heard from his own mouth, now, or… pen, that his suspicions were true, and it was just jarring. 

But he wasn’t about to say no. Sometimes, he’d stare at him just long enough to realize how handsome Pete himself was, and the way his eyes got that look to them when he was talking about something he liked, or the sexy way blood pooled around the corners of his mouth after he’d drained a bloodbag… but really, his attraction to him went deeper than the surface. His poetry. Mikey admired Pete as a poet, while he was moderately secretive about his work there were a few pieces he was willing to show Mikey, and what he’d seen of it was beautifully written and he loved all of it. He… loved Pete, he guessed. So now, when things came down to it, and he was faced with the question of was he willing to accept his best friend’s confession or not… he wanted to say yes.

He shoved the note in the pocket of his jeans and turned to unlock the door of the stall he was in, met with Gerard on the other side, catching him off guard and making him jump.

“What are you doing here, Gerard?” 

“What are you doing here?”

Mikey quirked an eyebrow, confused by Gerard’s accusatory tone, “I… had a note from Pete. He told me to read it in private.”

“What was on the note that was so secretive?” Gerard asked.

“...Well, it’s a secret. I can’t tell you.”

Gerard frowned and placed his hands on his hips, “Come on, I’m your brother. Whatever’s on this note, I have a right to know.”

“ Geraaaard,” Mikey whined, placing a protective hand over the pocket the note was in, “Please, just drop it, alright? You’ll know at some point, I promise just…” He paused, pursing his lips, “Not right now.”

Gerard sighed but was willing to respect his wishes, leaving the bathroom with Mikey trailing close behind him. They met up with Mitsy outside the door, looking weirdly expecting. Gerard gave her a shrug, and she frowned. When she was distracted, Gerard turned and mouthed to Mikey; ‘I was set up!’ 

Outside the school, back in the cookie-cutter neighborhood that was just outside, Pete laid with his head in his hands and his mind racing. Was it really the best idea to tell Mikey how he felt about him, and not just that, in the form of a note, and also only two weeks after his mom died and all of their lives had been flipped upside down, and not to mention he couldn’t even bring himself to come to school that day. Man. Maybe he was a pussy.

He had resorted to a conference call with Patrick and some of his other mortal friends, Andy and Joe, just to take his mind off things. The three non-bloodsucking fiends were busy discussing girls and hookups, music artists and movies, while Pete used their voices as background noise to figure his shit out.

“Pete?”

He dragged his hands down his face, “Mmh…” 

“Are you there?” Patrick asked.

“Barely…” Pete groaned, rolling over on his side. The rest of the line ignored him, as Patrick had excused his behavior as another fit of undead teenage angst, brought on by his incessant attachment to Mikey. So badly he wanted to hang up this stupid call (not that he had anything against these guys,) sleep for the whole day until Mikey came home from school, and he could run into his arms and give him his long-awaited kiss, God willing he accepts the note and his confession. 

The phone call wasn’t working anymore. He made up an excuse, gave a quick goodbye, and discarded his phone on the couch as he ran to the front door. It being late October, it was relatively cold out, so he slid on a red and black striped hoodie before going out to his car, in pursuit of the high school of which inside resided his beautiful, and most likely bored, Mikey. His lifeline. His everything.

And Pete was right; Mikey was bored out of his mind. He rested his head on his desk, blinking in and out of consciousness, eyes on the clock whenever they were open. God, this class was draining. He was only really half aware of what they were learning, but did he care? No. Despite having gone over 100 years ago, he still remembered most everything he learned in high school beforehand. This was simply an unnecessary refresher course for him… Damn Gerard. He’d rather be staked by whoever the hell Jennifer was. At least that would go quicker. He turned to the window briefly, allowing his eyes to drift closed until he saw, through his sleepy, unclear gaze, the familiar outline of a car he knew all too well.

But what was Pete doing here? And why was he just sitting there in the car, unmoving? Did he miss Mikey already? Did he have nothing better to do? He raised his head from his desk, eyes set on the black Chevy pulled right up in front of the window. Ugh. He had to figure this out… the period was over in a few minutes. He could make a break for it as soon as the bell rang and meet Pete out in the parking lot, right? Nobody would suspect a thing? 

So, when the fateful, ear-piercing sound rang out through the room Mikey quickly gathered his things and shoved them haphazardly into his bag, filing out with the other kids. He went down the hall and ducked under a flight of stairs to the nearest unmonitored exit. 

Pete had lost sight of Mikey after the bell rang. He saw him leave with everyone else, but after that he was lost in the crowd. He searched the parking lot for any signs of him, or even any kind of life, but found nothing. 

Mikey threw the car door open, startling Pete and catching him off guard with a spontaneous kiss, grabbing Pete by his shirt collar. They parted after a while, panting lightly.

“Hey,” Mikey breathed, “I- uh, read your note.”

“So you did…”

“Thank you.”

Pete blinked, “For what?”

“For telling me. If we’re being honest here, I’ve felt the same way, and it’s been eating me from the inside out, but I’d never tell you. In a million years. So, thank you for having guts, Pete.”

Pete didn’t answer, instead reaching over and cupping Mikey’s face with one hand, admiring him; his bright hazel eyes with a small spot of brown just beneath his pupil, like a bleeding watercolor amongst green valleys, the smile that had just started to grace his soft, pink lips and the sudden blood that had rushed to his cheeks with Pete’s touch. God. He was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. Something that was so otherworldly, enticingly beautiful. Pete wanted to stay like this forever, with the feeling of Mikey’s lips still lingering on his own, the feel of Mikey’s cheek in his palm. But he knew sooner or later, especially with the others filing into the classroom he had been facing, that he’d need to leave. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Mikey and backed his car out of the parking spot.

Jennifer had found herself almost missing Anastacia. 

The last time they’d said a word to each other was months ago, before she had left for Transylvania for the stupid vampire convention, or whatever the hell. A quick exchange, and a warning to not mess with her sons. But as she kneeled in the high bushes outside the mansion, she couldn’t help but wonder why a house full of undead seemed so… dead. It was barren. She wondered, had Anastacia left for good? Were her sons alone, and defenseless inside? 

She went through the forest to make it back to her own home, just as empty as the mansion. Her daughter was at school, her deadbeat husband at work, leaving her all by herself. Speaking of her daughter…

“Ugh, what? I’m at school.”

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, young lady.” She said sternly.

She couldn’t see her, but she knew her daughter was rolling her eyes back into her head from the other side of the line, “Yeah, okay, whatever. Did you need something?”

“Our little bloodsucker has yet to return to Newark. Any sight of those sons of hers around town? I noticed the lack of any presence in the mansion, I wonder where the two of them could have ended up.”

“Actually…”

Jennifer snapped to attention, “What?”

“A few weeks ago two ‘new students’ arrived at the high school. I’ve been closely studying them, their behaviors, etcetera… I have reason to suspect they have another kind of blood flowing through their veins, and that they drink it…”

While she was ecstatic over this newfound information, she couldn’t help but in her shitty mother instincts to scold her daughter, which led to an abrupt hang up on her end. Jennifer shoved her phone in her pocket and sat down on the couch, willingly indulging herself in mindless television until her husband returned home. 

Eighth period Gerard got a text from Mikey, stating, 'left w pete. tell u l8r,' which left an insatiable sense of curiosity eating him from the inside out in art class, but being with Frank made things slightly better. Mitsy had shown up late, which led to Frank and him having an extensive conversation, all while Gerard's heart was beating 300 MPH just by looking in Frank's hazel eyes... and occasionally his lips and his paint splattered hands... When Mitsy arrived she took over the conversation, lamenting about her mom (Gerard couldn't tell her, but it was still a touchy subject,) while the two shared brief glances across the table as she went on. Gerard could feel his face flush slightly every time the two made even a second eye contact. Still, even with Frank a distraction, he really wanted to know why Mikey left early.

It suddenly dawned on him what hadn't before. He remembered the power he had, the one thing left for him to use to his advantage. His telepathy.

While it would be hard, considering how far away Mikey was, and also how he had never tried it on him before, he was willing to try. It'd be one thing for Mikey to leave, and he could understand if he just simply wanted out, but why did Pete come with, and what was on that note? He usually never got hung up about things like this, so what made this any different? And anyways, Mikey's old enough and mature enough to just do what he wanted...

But maybe that was it. Maybe Gerard was worried about him so much because just having him out of the building scared him. He couldn't take chances like this with a slayer around, it was stupid, if nothing else. 

While it somewhat pained him, he used most of his mental strength to will any communication with Mikey.

"Mikey!”

Mikey's thoughts were unclear and slightly muffled, but Gerard knew he could still hear his calls.

"MIKEY!!"

"Oh my God, what?"

Well, while bitchy, he was still alive.

"Where are you?'

"At the house,"   he answered, "I'm with Pete."

"What was in that note?"   Gerard almost immediately demanded.

"Literally why do you care."

"I don't know, man! I'm just on edge, alright? If you wanna be vague, then so be it, but can you at least give me some kind of an idea?"

Mikey was silent for a few minutes before saying, "Okay, let's just say things around here are... changing. Most likely, and hopefully, for good."

Now Gerard was just plain confused, "What the hell does that mean?"

"Are you dense?" 

"Yes. What does that mean? What's changing? Are you going goth? Did you find a cure for vampirism? Are you becoming a woman? Is  Pete becoming a woman?"

"What? No."

"Because I think he could pull it off, personally. Maybe he should grow his hair out and go blond... I think that'd be a good look for him, don't ya think?"

"Gerard, shut up! I'm not becoming a woman, Pete isn't becoming a woman, YOU'RE not becoming a woman, nobody is becoming a woman!"

"Okay, jeez, I get it. So can you tell me what the change is then?"

"Fine. Maybe if I can convince Pete you'll find out when you get home, but-"

Mikey suddenly went quiet, completely blocking his mind from Gerard. This concerned him slightly; the abrupt change only worried him more than he was before, especially since Mikey had seemed particularly rushed when he was speaking. Was he in danger? Fuck. He had to get home. God, when was this class over?

He was the first one out when the bell rang, squeaking out a quick 'goodbye' to Frank and Mitsy before speeding out the door with his bag draped over his shoulder and sprinting to the car. Thankfully, the streets were empty enough and no cops around that actually gave a damn so he was able to leave the parking lot and get to the house in record timing. He pulled into the driveway, ran to the door and threw it open--

"AHH!"

Mikey and Pete jumped at the unexpected Gerard in the doorway, who had so rudely interrupted their couch-bound make out session. Pete dropped Mikey almost immediately out of fear, making him nearly fall to the floor.

"Ohhhhh, this is what you meant by a change!" Gerard said. Mikey rolled his eyes.

"Change?" Pete echoed.

"He kind of- contacted me prior to... ehm, all this. I didn't know if you wanted me to tell him yet, so I had to be unspecific about it all. He thought you were becoming a woman."

"Don't tell him that!" Gerard complained.

Pete blinked, "Do you want me to?"

“No! Ugh, whatever, c’mon.”

Mikey stood from the couch, followed by Pete, and went up the stairs to his bedroom. Gerard shrugged it off; he’d kind of been thinking for a while now that the two were into each other, and he had decided it was only a matter of time before he came home one day and would find them in such a, uh– situation… But whatever. They’re dating now. That’s cool. Gerard had bigger issues.

Said bigger issues being his own homoerotic relationship, which he was still trying to figure out what to do with. He was blabbering like an idiot today in art, going on about horror movies and monsters and junk, stuff that was so unimportant he should have just kept his mouth shut the whole period. That probably threw Frank off a little. But, in a way it was good that he was able to finally just talk to Frank, to hold a real conversation instead of blushing and turning away awkwardly. Besides, Frank didn’t entirely seem to mind. Occasionally, he’d add on to something Gerard had said, or smile, and laugh… and his eyes would light up… 

And occasionally, he’d breathe in just a little too deep, and get a whiff of the equally beautiful crimson liquid flowing through his sweet, penetrable veins that would show through his pale skin. So badly he wanted to tear through his throat and drain him of every last drop and–

No. He couldn’t. He wasn’t like that. He had been raised as a vampire to completely disown that lifestyle and survive off the stock of bloodbags kept in the fridge. The guilt, especially after his mother’s passing, would kill him quicker than any slayer ever could. If he were to betray her views, the lifestyle she had implemented onto him, how would he ever live it down? How could he stay in his own skin, knowing his hands are covered in blood, blood that won’t wash off. And more importantly, how would he ever look Frank in the eyes ever again, given he doesn’t lose control mid-feeding and actually drain Frank dry. 

The more he thought about Frank, the more he hated himself for even thinking of doing something so sinister. Frank’s sweet face, contorted into a horrible expression of pain and agony as Gerard would tear into his veins, giving into his animalistic urges, the one thing that separated vampires from humans. Bloodlust.]

With Mikey and Pete occupying the bedroom, he opted for the couch, switching on the TV to some low-budget horror movie that was playing on some random channel. While his eyes were set on the screen, he wasn’t paying any attention to the movie. He was still hooked on what to do about Frank. Now, with these ideas he had never conjured up before, he wasn’t sure if the safest thing for either of them was Gerard sticking around. Maybe at that point he’d even snap completely and drink from Mitsy, too. 

Maybe he should just disconnect himself from the rest of the human world, like how he was before. He had no idea he was ever this horrible, this monstrous. Tears began to prick at his eyes at the thought of him losing control like that, and hurting people he was truly starting to care about, especially Frank. He closed his eyes, drawing out a few stray drops. He hugged himself and turned on his side, hoping when he woke up he'd be some kind of sane again.

Chapter Text

The next day he woke up, somehow in his bed, with the same feeling eating him up inside. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, meaning he didn’t have to come in contact with any soon-to-be victims of his fangs. In the bed next to his, Mikey lay with Pete’s arms draped around his waist, both still asleep. He creeped out of his bed and made his way down to the kitchen to hopefully quench his thirst for blood. Unfortunately, the chilled plastic encasing the liquid paled in comparison to the soft, warm flesh of a jugular… of Frank’s jugular– 

He groaned quietly, slamming the half-drained bag on the countertop, splashing small blood drops everywhere. The mental war raging in his head had spawned a splitting headache, something like the ones he got when he was in proximity of a crucifix, or really anything holy. 

What had happened between then and now that had made him suddenly start having these almost murderous thoughts about Frank? What in the air changed? Before, he’d never even entertained the notion, not only with Frank, but with any human he knew. Those he’d pass on the street when involuntarily going outside, he was usually able to just push those thoughts away when and if he got them, and they’d never cross his mind again. But, now… he was so hung up on drinking from Frank, even just for a few seconds. It was unlike him. The one time his fangs had ever come in contact with human skin was when he Turned Mikey, and he’d sworn to Anastacia afterwards that he would never, ever drink from a human, he didn’t even really do it the first time around. 

Maybe that was the reason behind all this. When Gerard thought about it, how long could a vampire go never giving into themselves, to that primal urge they had possessed since forever? Was it really only a matter of time before he, too, gave into those same urges? And not only him, but Mikey and Pete? Were they a danger to themselves and others, too? 

He pushed the thought out of his mind and drank the rest of the bloodbag, the usually sweet sensation leaving a bad taste in his mouth. 

He started thinking about school, and more importantly what to do about… everything. For the sake of vampirekind, he couldn't wuss out and just stop going not even a month in, but he knew everyone in that accursed building was sooner or later about to get their throat ripped out by him or, God forbid, Mikey and Pete. Maybe it was just too dangerous for him to be around humans–

Or at least, go unsatisfied …

It was an evil thought, but it was also for the greater good. His plan was to find some unsuspecting stranger on the street, someone that was alone and had nowhere especially important to be, and lure them far enough away that they wouldn’t be missed, and so that he could tear out their throat without making too big of  a scene. But– no. He couldn’t do that, no matter how thirsty he was. That’s a human. That’s someone with a life, maybe a spouse and a few kids… Too much risk. Too much pain, for both parties. Scratch that off the list. Fuck. Why couldn’t he have just died in the 1800’s like he was meant to? Why did Anastacia, as much as he loved her, have to turn him into this bloodsucking monster? 

Footsteps and quiet murmuring brought him back to reality. He forced a content expression when he realized it was Mikey and Pete, acting as if he wasn’t tearing himself apart from the inside out a few seconds ago. But he knew that these were the two people he could tell anything to, even if they didn’t fully understand. They knew about the dream, and his crush on Frank, it would feel wrong to hide this from them. 

“I need help.”

The two stopped short at Gerard’s words, as he himself froze at how quickly they came from him.

Mikey raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I- I’m scared. I’ve been having these weird- urges-,” He choked, “To drink human blood. Like- actual human blood.”

“We all do,” Pete answered calmly, shrugging, “Don’t we?”

Mikey glanced between the two of them, his face a mixture of concern and a little bit of shock, “...No. Gerard, when did these start? How long has this all been going on?”

“I don’t know, Mikey. Last night it was really bad,  but I can’t remember when I first started wanting to– Frank! Oh my God, it started when I met Frank! Do you think… he has something to do with it?”

Mikey winced, “He might. What do we do, though? It’s not like you can stop going to school, and neither can we? I  mean, it’s bad isn’t it? You won’t be able to hold yourself back, and God forbid, you might drink from him. In front of everyone! It’d blow our cover, and this elusive slayer wouldn’t hesitate to stake you!”

Gerard shivered at the thought. But what Mikey was implying scared him more. 

He’d have to cut all ties with Frank. For the sake of himself, and the rest of humanity.

“There has to be another way, right? Something else we could do to stop my cravings?” He begged. He hated the idea of ever leaving Frank, and, while selfish, he honestly could care less about keeping his damned secret safe. If the slayer hadn’t figured them out by now, then when would she? Was it really worth all this risk?

Mikey shook his head and shrugged, “I’m sorry, Gerard. Nothing I can think of right now,” he put a hand on Gerard’s shoulder, “Maybe things will change over the weekend… Maybe before you go back, these cravings will stop, and you won’t have to leave Frank, alright?”

Gerard nodded solemnly, while he knew he barely believed Mikey. He was already preparing himself for his own self-inflicted heartbreak.

Mitsy woke in her darkened room underneath her purple and black blanket, her mother’s incessant shouting from downstairs interrupting her sleep. She sighed and decided that since she was already up, she might as well start her day. Which, seeing as it was a Saturday, she wasn’t going to be doing much of anything that didn’t involve being in front of a screen. She threw her blanket off and made her way across the room to her cluttered desk. Scattered jewelry, stray art supplies and other random bullshit surrounded her laptop, which acted as a kind of centerpiece. It was an iBook she got last Christmas from her parents, consequently the last good thing that either of them had bought her for… a long time. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time her mom even spared her more than a glance.

She started up her computer and logged in, immediately opening AOL Messenger to talk with Gerard.

queenofnothing: hey

queenofnothing: HEY

Action_Cat: Dude it’s so early

queenofnothing: yeah screw you, anyways you wanna hang out today

Action_Cat: Uhh I can’t

Mitsy frowned from behind the screen.

queenofnothing: why not >:((((

Action_Cat: Mikey is sick! I have to take care of him

queenofnothing: dude hes so old how much taking care of could he need

Action_Cat: Shut up also it’s a bad cold I don’t want you getting sick too

Action_Cat: Cough

queenofnothing: omg

Action_Cat: Cough Cough

queenofnothing: gerard!!!!

Action_Cat: Hello this is the funeral home Gerard Way is dead

queenofnothing: nooOOoOOOOoOOOoOO!1!!!!111!!!11!

Gerard logged off wordlessly after that, leaving Mitsy bored and lonely. She went down her list of friends… offline, offline, offline, and… offline. Great. She supposed nobody else was mournfully woken up at the asscrack of dawn by their demon mother. Made her wonder why Gerard was up, though. 

Whatever. She shut her laptop and instead approached her walk-in closet. One perk of having a snobby rich mom was the fact that you got to be the coolest scene chick on the block, the envy of every copy-paste, spray tanned, fake blonde, two-faced bitch that lurked around the neighborhood. A negative? Being the daughter of a copy-paste, spray tanned, fake blonde, two-faced bitch. With every win comes a loss, she supposed.

Aside from being the biggest in the house, Mitsy’s closet also contradicted her parents by encasing Tripp and Iron Fist instead of Prada and the occasional Victoria's Secret. 

Hot pink, purple, and black lined the closet walls. Beneath them sat a collection of multicolored Converse and patterned purses, along with a variety of studded belts hanging on the wall. Mitsy didn't wanna go too outlandish with her outfit today, considering she had no set plans, so she settled on a purple lace cami top and plaid pajama pants that rested on her hips, exposing the belly button piercing she totally wasn't supposed to have. 

“MITSY!!!”

Ugh. Fuck. 

“What?”

“I hear you moving up there! What are you doing up so early? You lost an hour of your sleep, now!”

She threw her head back and groaned internally, “I know , Mom,” Quieter, she mumbled, “I’m not the one in this house who needs the beauty sleep.” 

She practically had to drag herself down the stairs, ever-so aware of the fate that awaited her at the bottom. Her mom waited with crossed arms, donning a silk robe and whatever she had left of her hair pinned up. She tried to hide her sneer as Mitsy descended the stairs, to which Mitsy gave her a sour frown that she hoped got her point across that she really, really despised this woman she was so unfortunately related to. 

“Do you have any plans?”

Mitsy shrugged, “Well, none yet, but let’s see after everyone else but me gets up at a normal time, because they don’t have to live with you.”

Her mother tensed like she was about to snap, and she could see her scrawny knuckles begin to whiten around the handle of her coffee mug. She took a quick, angry sip and turned away from Mitsy, “Well, seeing as you’re free, would it kill you to get the groceries?” 

Mitsy was well aware she had no money, but she was also well aware of where her mother set her purse every day. 

“We’ll see.”

She dug her mom’s credit card from her designer bag, along with a handful of cash that wouldn’t be missed, and, after sliding on her Vans, got into her car and drove in the opposite way of the grocery store. 

The buzz of the doorbell interrupted the serenity of an empty living room, startling Gerard. He was halfway tempted to duck behind a couch or something and pretend no one was home, but when he heard a familiar female voice from the other side of the door he was all too eager to open it for Mitsy, completely disregarding the bloodlust he’d been struggling with. Ah, shit, he had to keep up the whole ‘Mikey’s sick’ charade though. Maybe if he just didn’t let her upstairs…

Mitsy stood with her hand on her hip and a bag draped over her shoulder, “Hey, biotch.”

“Mitsy, what the hell? I said we couldn’t hang out today.”

“Yeah, you said you had to stay home. So I thought, why not invade your personal space for the sake of getting away from my mother?” 

The mention of ‘mother,’ especially in the dismissive tone Mitsy said it in, made Gerard’s heart drop some, but he pushed it aside. Now he was faced with a bigger dilemma, to either push Mitsy away or not be an asshole and let her in the house. In the middle of weighing out the pros and the cons, he decided it'd be easier to just give in and step aside than it would be to slam the door in her face.

“No going upstairs. How'd you find my house, anyways?” 

“Ruled out the options. Gerard, I don't think you realize how small this town is and how many people my mom knows, alright? This is the one house I've never seen yet, so I just assumed it was yours. Thank God I was right.” 

Mitsy's story didn't entirely add up, but he didn't question it too much. Besides, the girl had proven herself to be a miracle worker last week with Frank, so he really shouldn't be all that surprised. 

Frank. The very thought of him and the thin, penetrable skin of his neck that was the only thing currently preventing Gerard from digging into his veins, made his mouth water. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, and shook the thought from his mind, remembering Mitsy was right behind him.

Strained, he spoke, “Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” 

They settled on The Dark Crystal. While Gerard hadn't seen it, Mitsy told him it was one of her favorites, and he wasn't one to argue against campy 80s sci-fi, especially since it was one of the eras he remembered the most of. Still, though he managed to keep most of his attention towards the movie, his mind was mostly occupied with the thoughts of veins, blood, and of course Frank. Not to mention, the smell of Mitsy's own blood hung in the air, which only made it worse. He'd never drink from her, of course, but the smell was so enticing he had to bite his tongue to keep from lunging at her. 

At some point she turned to him with a worried look, “Dude, are you alright? You look like you're about to puke.” 

He snapped out of his trance and swallowed, “Yeah- yeah, I'm fine. It's just- the Skeksis are kind of hard to look at. For puppets, they're disgustingly realistic.”

Mitsy gave him a playful hit on his shoulder, “That's the beauty of this movie, man! It's so weird, but like, you can't stop watching, because it's so cool. Hey, maybe we should go on an 80’s movie binge! We could watch Heathers next, or…” 

Mitsy listed a few more movies off the top of her head, and while Gerard pretended to listen, in his mind he was still waging war on his own instincts. To feed or not to feed, that really was the question for him. He didn't know how much hungrier he could get before he snapped. He needed help. When Misty was done with her spiel, he excused himself and said he had to go check on Mikey. And while that wasn't totally a lie, it wasn't what he was going upstairs to do. 

He knocked on the bedroom door to prevent another accident like the one that had occurred just yesterday, opening it when he was given the okay. He was surprised to see Mikey sitting alone on his bed, book in hand. 

“Where's Pete?” 

“He had to go get something from his house. He should be back soon, though. What's up?”

“Nothing. Well, okay, yeah, Mitsy's here.” 

Mikey dog eared his page and shut the book, “I thought I heard her voice. You need her gone or something?” 

“No, no, it's nothing like that.” Gerard glanced into the hallway before shutting the door behind him, “It's… me. I'm still getting these urges, and having a human in the house with no witnesses is making it harder than ever to hold back. I'm scared, Mikey. I don't wanna kill Mitsy.” 

“Then don't. Just try not to think about it. Hey, maybe when Pete gets back you can ask him how he gets through his cravings!” 

Gerard sighed, “Yeah. Maybe…” 

He was about to say something more, but Mitsy interrupted him from downstairs, “Hey, dude? Do you have anything I can eat? I didn't have breakfast. I'm starving.” 

“Shit!” He hissed, “Mikey, do we have any human food in the house?” 

“Of course we do, Gerard. You remember how mom liked a side of chips with her blood. I remember seeing a bag crumpled up in one of the cupboards yesterday.” 

“But I don't know if Mitsy would want those. Wouldn't they be stale, anyways?” 

“They've only been there for a few weeks. Now, go! Before she starts digging around herself!” 

Gerard hurried out the door without a goodbye and bounded down the steps into the kitchen, where lo and behold, a bag of family sized Doritos was stuffed into an upper cabinet. 

“This is all we have at the moment,” He lied, returning to the living room, “Here. Me and Mikey need to go shopping.”

“No biggie, I'll eat anything.” Mitsy took the bag from Gerard and took a few handfuls out as the movie carried on.

At some point he had fallen asleep and was brought back to the same hallway from the other dream. This time, he was right in front of the apparition. 

And this time, the apparition looked all too familiar. 

Fortunately, he was able to control his actions and words within his dreams, unlike the average human. He kneeled down in front of the body and tilted its head to face him. Its eyes were squeezed shut, scrunching up its face the same way Frank's would when he smiled, a pained expression on his lips.

Not knowing if he should refer to it as Frank or not, considering he really didn't know if it was supposed to be him, he whispered, “Are you alright?” 

Its eyes suddenly shot open, revealing piercing yellow eyes lined with orange. Gerard jumped, but didn't let go. He brought a shaky hand up to its face and cupped its cheek. It was hard to scare him, someone who'd lived through some of the worst times in history, especially when the thing that was meant to be scary had the face of the boy he loved so much. 

Hesitantly he leaned down to kiss its forehead, careful not to anger it. As he backed away, the creature's face shifted from pained to straight fear, the kind that's only ever forced out of a person when they're being held at gunpoint.  Again, Gerard whispered, “Are you alright?”

He flinched as the creature lunged at him, but instead of ripping his face off, its arms fell around Gerard's shoulders. Surprised, he held the creature's quivering body close to him. But the dream started to fade away, and all he heard before it went black was the pleading whisper of, “Help me.” 

Gerard lurched forwards, screaming. Mitsy practically jumped out of her skin beside him.

“Gerard, what the hell? Are you alright, what was that?” 

His breathing was heavy, his heart pounding in his chest, all his senses heightened. He saw red, a violent, unapologetic red, like blood strewn all across the room. Avoiding eye contact, he forced out, “I'm… fine. You should leave.”

Mitsy didn't hesitate. She nodded and gathered her things, practically bolting out the door. Gerard wanted to feel bad about throwing her out, but right now it felt like he was about to explode and litter the place with his remains. Fists digging into the fabric of the couch, he screamed from the bottom of his lungs, calling for Mikey. His vision blanking in and out, he saw his brother practically fly down the stairs and rush to his side, holding his shaking hand firmly and reassuring him, ‘hey, hey, you're alright. It was just a dream.’ He felt hot tears begin to swell in his eyes, halfway from pain and the rest from how bad he felt about putting Mikey through this. Part of him wished he was staked. 

By the time his breath slowed and his vision returned to normal, Mikey was still holding onto his hand and Pete had returned, both with a worried look. 

“Mikey, am I okay…? Is it over? What was that?”

“It was an attack.”

Gerard frowned in confusion, “What…?” 

“I was reading up on vampires in the bedroom, remember? From one of the books in the library. An ‘attack’ usually comes after one of the dreams like you've been having. It's nothing to be concerned about, it's just scary. It's the real vampire part of you trying to take over.” 

He sat up, dropping Mikey’s hand, “What do you mean by that?” 

“When you were turned, the part of the vampire DNA that can make us ruthless bloodthirsty monsters has fizzled out so much it's practically obsolete in your genetic information. But it can be awoken with a strong enough force, say a certain trauma or strong attraction… In your case, it's both.”

Gerard stared at Mikey in both confusion and subtle fear, “Mikey, what are you saying? That Frank is making me revert 1,000 years backwards and turning me into a monster?” 

Mikey didn’t answer, and while he looked like he was going to, he sighed. 

Gerard’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He felt like caving in on himself and puking up his guts at the same time. What was Frank doing to him? Was Frank doing this to him? Did Frank know how much he tore Gerard apart, and made him whole at the same time?

Chapter Text

Sunday came and went. Gerard spent most of it forcing himself into sleeping, trying to find the ending to the dream his mind was hiding from him, the one where he saved the apparition. 

He had endured several slightly traumatizing dreams, none of them inducing ‘attacks’ as he forced himself into them. It didn’t make them any better, nor did he ever reach the end where both of the two made it out alive. During a lot of this, Pete and Mikey sat at the foot of his bed, usually always buried in a book, trying to research further on what was going on with Gerard. To their dismay, all they found were theories, and that didn’t help any. The first one Gerard remembered having was probably the worst. He wasn’t in the hallway, but instead in a darkened room that somewhat resembled a prison cell, only doorless and wider. The apparition was still in his arms, shaking profusely. He began to  kiss its cheek cautiously as it cried, begging for it to stop in a whisper. Suddenly soft sobs turned into horrific shouts, screams of pure pain, not sounding even slightly human. Gerard began to break down as well, wanting to tear himself away from the horror, but only pulling the poor thing closer in an attempt to soothe it. He woke up before he knew what happened next. 

After that one came another, of course. He was back in the hallway, alone this time. Blood pooled around his ankles, but he carried on still, trudging through the crimson liquid. After walking for what genuinely seemed like hours, the blood began to rush down from the walls and trap him underneath horrendous red waves. But what was odd, it had the consistency of water and he could see through it perfectly fine, well enough, at least, to recognize the floating shadow that was drifting motionless through the sea of blood. Before he could even try to swim towards it, he woke up.

“You know, you don’t have to put yourself through this.” Mikey said, “These are just dreams. It’s just your subconscious messing with you.”

Gerard frowned and hid his face in his hands, “I know. But it’s eating me alive, Mikey. If the first dream I had was able to get Frank’s face down nearly perfect, how do we know that these dreams aren’t fucked up prophecies?” 

The group was silent in thought for a while, until Pete shouted, “Because they’re all different!”

Both Gerard and Mikey turned to him, intrigued and urging him to carry on. “Okay, think about it. The first time you had one of these dreams, the mock-Frank died because you drank from him, then the next one happened yesterday, but he didn’t die that time. What usually determines if he dies or not, Gerard?” 

Gerard thought for a minute, “Usually it's… something I do. Like if I can make it to him in time. And when he doesn't die, he just… screams.” 

“Screams?”

“In horrible agony. I don't even wanna think about it.” 

“Well, okay, then don't. Stop putting yourself through this, Gee. You know Frank is alive and well, so why are you so fixated on these dreams where he dies?”

“Because I need to save him,” he snapped, making Mikey flinch, “I need to know that I can save him.” 

He seemed so dead set on this the two didn't even bother trying to argue as he laid back down in his bed, forcing another morbid dream out of himself. 

He woke up in his room. Or rather, something close to it. Completely pitch black around him, like he was in a void, and totally alone. He turned to the side, expecting to see the apparition or something lying next to him. What he did see, though, was a nicer surprise.

Frank was next to him, eyes closed and lips parted slightly. He was sleeping–but why was he here? Why was Gerard dreaming about the real Frank all of a sudden? 

He assumed that, since this was the human version of Frank, that it'd be easier to communicate with, and not just start screaming at him. He shook his shoulder gently. 

“Hey… Frankie? Wake up. Where are we?” He asked, as if Frank would have any idea. Should he ever wake up. 

After a while with no response, he decided to try and sit Frank up himself. Maybe he was just in a really deep sleep. When his arms wrapped around Frank's body, he was cold. Ice cold. Gerard suddenly realized what this meant and dropped him.

Frank wasn't sleeping. He was just dead.

Part of him had begun to get hopeful that this was the dream they both made it out alive. Part of him thought this was all over with, and he could go back to school and pretend like none of this happened and that he totally didn't wanna drink Frank's blood. But he was wrong. So mournfully wrong.

Without thinking, he backed away from the corpse, forgetting the bed was the only thing keeping him away from a dark and seemingly endless void. Really, he wanted to fall, just to get away from the dead body beside him, but… what came after that? If vampires die in their dreams, do they die in reality? Would he die never knowing what was happening with Frank, and why it was happening? 

He woke up before the darkness took him. Not with a jolt like the other times, while still shaking and horrified. Pete and Mikey looked at him expectantly.

“It was Frank,” he said, “It wasn’t the creature this time. It was just him. I was still in this bed, but you guys were gone, and so was the room. It was just… a void. Frank was already dead. I didn’t kill him… Something else did.”

Mikey excused himself from the room at Gerard’s words, running off to the library down the hall. He returned with a book that had Romanian across the front and down the spine. He placed the book in the middle of the bed and began to flip through pages, stirring up dust. He landed on a yellowed, torn page that read ‘VISARE’ across the top.

“What does that mean?” Pete asked.

“Dreams. This is what I was reading about yesterday. Up  until now, you’ve had dreams that were so insanely unusual they weren’t even mentioned in this book, but this one is. Here.” He pointed to a paragraph, “Usually when someone appears dead in a vampire’s dreams, it’s someone who’s already dead. But, in this case, Frank isn’t. So wouldn’t that mean that this is all in your head, right? It has to be just you making things up.”

Gerard sighed, “I guess. But then why does it keep happening like this? Why can’t my own mind just let me rest?”

“I… I really don’t know, Gerard. But all I know is you don’t have to worry about hurting Frank, or anyone else for that matter. We can go back to school tomorrow and pretend nothing happened.” 

As much as Gerard wanted to believe him, how much he wanted this weight finally lifted off his shoulders, he couldn’t. Deep down he knew there was something wrong with him. He was only gonna get worse. As long as there was a human around, no one was safe. And he had to be around them all day tomorrow. 

Monday would mark the 3rd week they’d been at the high school. Halloween was in a few days, which any human would think to be their favorite holiday, but actually, they hated it. Cheesy vampire costumes lining the walls in stores, little 5-year-olds running around, screaming ‘I vant to suck your blood!’ with their stupid, plastic fangs in their mouths and a pillowcase full of offbrand candy. Not to mention there was always the threat of a break-in from a few bored middle schoolers, going around to check out the ‘creepy mansion in the woods.’ They’d done fairly well when it came to handling humans on their property, but at this point the risk of having bloodthirsty, could-snap-at-any-moment Gerard deal with some trespassing kid with no witnesses was like leading a lamb to the slaughter. 

They met Mitsy at the front doors, donning an all black-and-white autumn outfit; black dress, thin sweater, plaid print skinny scarf wrapped around her neck, a pair of black and white striped tights, and black combat boots. She was quick to bombard Gerard with questions the minute she saw him walk through the door.

“Okay, what the hell was that on Saturday, Gerard? You like, totally freaked out, and then you tossed me out the door like shit your ex left lying around. What, you get insanity spells or something? Are you schizophrenic?”
 

“No, Mitsy, it’s– ugh. I had a bad nightmare and it just upset me a lot, alright? Does that answer your question?”

Mitsy went silent for a few seconds.

“No!”

“Mitsy, just drop it. Please?”

She pursed her lips, but complied anyway. Even if he were to tell her the truth, because it honestly wouldn’t give away any of his secrets, how the hell was he meant to explain that in any way that’d make him seem sane? Yeah, I had a dream about some skinwalker motherfucker bleeding out in my arms, did you know it looked exactly like Frank? Maybe you should tell him that. Jesus. He’d be shipped off to the looney bin like that. Not to mention what Frank would possibly think of him after something like that. There's no way they'd ever be anything at that point, hell, Frank probably wouldn't even be able to force himself to look at Gerard after that. 

He snapped back to reality when he realized he was torturing himself with his own thoughts again. And also that he was about to walk into a pole. 

The morning passed smoothly. He pretty much disregarded all of his classes. Besides, what did he care about pythagorean theorem for? He had bigger issues to deal with.  

Biology was the one class he didn’t have to force himself to stay off track. How could he focus on whatever the hell the teacher was droning on about, when Frank was right in front of him, beautifully stoic and calm? He sat with his chair pushed up against the wall beside him, allowing Gerard to see most of the right side of his face. He looked just about as bored as everyone else did in the class, but while everyone else's faces blurred together, something about Frank's blank face stood out to him. Maybe it was the fact he was in love with him, or the fact–

A vision flashed across his mind for a split second, filling his throat with vomit. He saw Frank, paler than ever, like a ghost. His eyes closed delicately, but with an eerie feeling about it. 

And two gaping fang-sized holes in his neck.

He brought his hand up to his mouth to cover it, because how embarrassing would it be to puke, not only in front of, but on your crush. God, now he knew how Cady Heron felt. 

He managed to make it through biology without ruining his social cred (if he had any in the first place,) and made a quick escape for the door as soon as the bell rang. He met Mikey and Pete by the lockers, interrupting their conversation.

“Okay, the dreams are gone but now I'm having visions whenever I look at him! Mikey, what does this mean?!” 

The two looked at him skeptically. Mikey shrugged, “Hell if I know, Gee. Maybe I can look it up when we get home, but for right now just don't think about it. Maybe they'll stop.”

“NO, Mikey, you don't understand. I almost puked! I haven't even eaten anything!” He nearly shouted, more serious than ever, “Something is wrong here, and don't you tell me it's ‘just my subconscious,’ don't you dare pull that bullshit with me again!”

“Snap the hell out of it man,” Pete said, hushed, “People are gonna start staring! We're supposed to be undercover, remember? We're kind of hiding for our lives…?” 

Gerard tensed, but complied, “Sorry.” 

“We have lunch next period, anyways.” Mikey frowned and turned to Gerard, “Gee, if you can stand looking at him at lunch, and something happens again, I'll look it up later tonight, alright? I can't guarantee I'll find anything, but our library is huge. We must have something. But if it doesn't happen again, then promise you won't come screaming like a lunatic at us in the halls again?” 

Gerard nodded. Okay. Make it through lunch and hope nothing happens. Easy enough… probably.

Actually, most of his lunch was spent listening to Mitsy ramble on about whatever. She'd made herself a kind of martyr for keeping away the awkwardness between Gerard and Frank at the moment. Frank was oblivious. Gerard thought her his savior.

“So, yeah, my mom was being a total asshole Saturday. She woke me up way before anyone should be up on the weekends, made me go get quote-unquote ‘groceries,’ which ended up just being a few more things of liquor to fuel her alcoholism, and then when I got back from Gerard's house, made food for her and my dad but not me,” She scoffed and threw her hands in the air, “I don't know what her problem is. Seriously.”

Gerard frowned, “Awh, Mits, you didn't tell me that. We coulda gone out for lunch or something.” Of course, what the hell would I eat?

“It's fine. I made pizza rolls.” She turned to Frank, “Hey, dude, when's your party again?”

"Party?” Mikey echoed.

Frank beamed, “Yeah, my birthday's soon. Halloween, actually. My parents take advantage of that and like to throw these big Halloween-type parties, but since I haven't… had many friends recently, they've cut back. I have you guys now, though, so I was wondering… if you all three wanted to come?”

Gerard was half ecstatic, half doomed. On one hand, going over to Frank's for his birthday party did sound pretty fun, and it'd be nice to just hang out with him and the rest of their friends for a day (plus, there was always the chance of Spin the Bottle or Seven Minutes In Heaven… but he didn't wanna get his hopes up.) But at the moment, he wasn't sure if he could be trusted around that many humans with the way he was… he could always pack a snack, though.

Reluctantly he looked at Frank from across the table, “Will your parents be there…?”

Frank grinned and shook his head, “Nope.”

“I'm in. You have a wishlist of any kind?”

“Awh, Gerard, you don't have to get me anything.”

“Trust me, Frank,” He grinned, careful not to show his fangs, “I’d love to.”

After a painfully boring lunch and remainder of the school day, the three parted ways with their mortal friends and drove home with The Cure on the radio.

“So what're you gonna get Frank?” Mikey asked.

Gerard shrugged, “I don't know. He's not like some dude I can just buy… I don't know, a football for. It has to be special. Something he'd like.”

“Gonna be pretty hard since you barely know the guy,” Pete muttered from the backseat.

“I'll find something… I could ask Mitsy maybe. She knows him better than I do. All I know is he likes horror and punk music.”

“That's a start.”

“No it isn't.” 

Chapter Text

It was the day of the party, and Gerard was doomed. While the visions had ceased (for now) the cravings hadn't, and even then those were still the least of his worries.

It's not like social events were necessarily a struggle for him; in any other situation that didn't involve looking into Frank's debilitatingly gorgeous eyes he was pretty good at holding a conversation, or when it came to gossiping with Mitsy sneaking in a ‘no way,’ or a ‘that bitch!’ He wasn't bad at conversation. He was bad at conversation with Frank. 

The last time they'd spoken was yesterday in art, when his lifesaver Mitsy just happened to be absent. What a trainwreck. Gerard was a stammering mess the whole time, he gave up after the 10th try of trying to spit out a sentence and just left the conversation to Frank, who did thankfully talk up until the bell. But afterwards Gerard just felt so… pathetic. He'd never been like this with a guy before, albeit, all those other guys were not only other vampires, but they were terrible lovers and bad company, only wanting Gerard for meaningless hookups and one night stands. They were casual. Frank was serious. 

And that's why it was so hard for him. 

He really, really didn't wanna mess things up. To him, things with Frank were like… trying to get porcelain to a display cabinet without breaking it, the porcelain being their current slightly gay friendship, and the display cabinet being making it more than a friendship. There were many risks when it came to moving the porcelain, like a trail of pushpins on the ground he has to step over, representing not messing up while their relationship is in its current stage. Should he trip or drive one into his skin, he'll most likely drop the porcelain, and their friendship will cease to exist out of awkwardness. But, if he can dodge the pushpins and make it to the cabinet without dropping the porcelain, he and Frank will live happily ever after, and so will the porcelain inside the display cabinet, safe and unshattered—

Ugh! He had no time for metaphors and pushpins! To hell with the porcelain! 

Glancing at the clock, he realized… he really didn't have time for metaphors.

Shit, the party was at 2, and it was just now 12! Why didn't Mikey wake him up earlier?! He practically ripped off his bedsheets and ran down the stairs, going to shout at Mikey before he realized he was on the phone. 

“Yeah… no, yeah, we'll be there.”

Was he talking to Frank? How the hell did he get their number? 

Mikey hung up with a hurried goodbye and turned his attention to Gerard.

“Yeesh, you look a wreck. Nightmares?” 

Gerard frowned, “No, Mikey, no nightmares. You know I haven't had those for a while. Why didn't you wake me up earlier? Frank's party is in, like, two hours.”

Mikey shrugged as Gerard reached into the fridge for a bloodbag, “Slipped my mind.” 

Gerard assumed it total bullshit, seeing as Mikey had already got dressed, donning a white and black long sleeve shirt and, who would've guessed, another pair of shamelessly obvious girl pants. Whatever. He disregarded the potential sabotage and instead dug into his bag of sweet, sweet O-Neg. A true vampire delicacy. 

The phone rang again after Mikey had left the kitchen and Gerard had drained the bloodbag. Assuming it was Frank again, he answered in the sweetest voice he could muster, “Frank?”

“Bitch, it's me.”

He frowned, not exactly unhappy to hear Mitsy’s voice, but more so sad it wasn't Frank’s. 

“Oh. Hi, Mitsy.”

She broke out in laughter on the other end, “Were you seriously going to try and seduce Frank with that stupid gayass voice? Hahaha! Oh, man, I wish I could've recorded that…. you were all, ‘Oh, Frankie!!’ haha!!” 

Okay. Now he was kind of upset it was Misty, “Did you call just to make fun of me?”

“No, stupid, I wanted to see if you were up for going to the mall with me.” 

The mall? He hasn't been to the mall in, like, 15 years. Back then he got laughed at by a group of girls in ridiculous blonde perms and stared at by old ladies in cross necklaces, both which gave him a headache. Since then he vowed to never step foot inside that damned place. But he didn't wanna turn down Mitsy's offer, and things have changed since then, haven't they? Nobody even wears perms anymore. Plus, he needed a gift for Frank still, maybe there'd be a CD store at the mall. 

Mournfully he agreed, Mitsy assuring him she'd pick him up in ‘like, ten,’ whatever that meant. He hung up the phone and realized– shit, he has to get dressed! 

He was well aware, even though it wasn't 1985 anymore kids were still rude as hell, so he decided on something that would get him the least amount of stares possible, that being some random faded graphic tee from his closet, baggy gray jeans, and the same fur-collared jacket he wore all the time. He smeared his eyes with charcoal and sat outside on the porch steps until he heard the unmistakable sound of Smashing Pumpkins blaring from the car driving up the hill. 

Mitsy wordlessly nodded for him to get in the passenger seat. 

“So, I haven't been to the mall in… forever,” Gerard started, glancing over at Mitsy to see if she flashed any questioning looks. He was in the clear so far, “Uhm… What store are we going to exactly?” 

“Hot Topic.” She stated simply. What the fuck was Hot Topic?

The mall was quite a drive outside of town. In fact, it was between their part of town, and the part that didn't suck. Gerard and Mikey didn't go there much anymore because one, the drive is too long, and two because there's too many people that could recognize them. Way back when they used to always go down there for this comic store that burned down back in the 90s, but the population didn't very much. If they went there now and people recognized them and noticed that they looked the same as they did twenty fucking years ago, they'd be dead. So dead. 

So Gerard didn't get around much. But he assumed anyone from 20 years ago must not be taking up residence at this ‘Hot Topic,’ right? If Mitsy shopped there it's bound to be full of people who aren't in their 50s and Catholic, if nothing there will at least be posers, and hopefully nobody from school. 

They dodged the stores attached to the mall where most middle aged women tended to linger, Mitsy ending up as Gerard’s guardian angel once again and saving him from what could be his very demise. Thank whatever god is up there for purple haired chicks. When they reached Hot Topic, Gerard was honestly kind of impressed. After a lifetime of lame-ass stores and finding himself buying shit from Goodwill and garage sales, seeing a place that actually sold shit he was pretty fond of was a good refresher. 

Mitsy didn't waste time. Immediately she dashed to the back corner of the store, which held the band shirts. Gerard followed suit. 

As if reading his mind, Mitsy turned and asked, “Did you buy Frank a gift yet?” 

“No, actually. I was hoping you could help me with that.”

As if from memory, she leaned down and picked a few off the shelves, mostly punk bands from back in the day, and handed them to Gerard. She was strangely a pro at this. How often was she here? 

“I don't think he has those,” Mitsy, who was already halfway across the store, eyeing the greasy pierced boy behind the register, yelled to him, “You can pick which one you think he'd like the most…”

Gerard nodded and flipped through the shirts. Maybe the Misfits one… but he has so many already… maybe, uhhh… no… not that… Fuck, why was this hard? He gave up, folding the shirts and sliding them back onto their respective shelves. If he gets desperate he'll reconsider, but a band shirt just seemed so boring. Plus, if Mitsy had to dig one out for him it'd seem like he really didn't care about buying a present, and that'd give him a bad look. He remembered his metaphor with the porcelain… that was definitely going to be a pushpin on the ground. 

He followed a few paces behind Mitsy for the rest of the trip, searching the walls and racks for something that Frank would like enough to wear at least once, finding a surprisingly barren stock. Not that they didn't have a good selection, just that none of it really looked like something Frank would wear. He glanced at Mitsy, who had a few articles draped over her arm and charming up the cashier, asking if you had to be hot to work here. Jesus. Right as Gerard was about to give up, though, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Sitting on the top shelf of the clearance rack was a pair of thick gloves with bones adorning the front. Holy shit. These were perfect! 

He bought the gloves and met Mitsy at the gates of the store as she was waving goodbye to her lovestruck cashier boy. As they were walking Mitsy unzipped the front of her hoodie to show off an array of pins and jewelry she had stuck to and shoved down her shirt.

Gerard scoffed, amused, “Is that why you were trying to get with the cashier?” 

“Of course. I'm a lesbian, why would I want his mopey ass?” 

Before leaving they stopped inside a small bookstore that carried a miniscule array of CDs. While Gerard flipped through them (and found none) Mitsy was occupied with the red-headed freckled girl behind the counter, who she seemed to be enjoying talking to much more. 

By the time they reached the house it was time for the party anyways, so Gerard called Mikey and Pete out to Mitsy's car. 

“Gerard found Frank a gift so he won't look like such a pathetic gay loser at his party,” Mitsy was quick to announce, making the two in the backseat giggle to each other. He frowned at her.

“Yeah, don't talk to me about pathetic gay losers.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You were totally trying to fuck the bookstore girl.” 

“Correction,” she showed off a number on her arm written in blue sharpie, “I am fucking her.”

Gerard shook his head, smiling, “You're unbelievable.” 

“I know.”

Frank's driveway was empty, thank God. He hadn't been lying about the whole parents-out-of-town thing, which was good, because if his parents had any common sense they'd see right through Gerard's obvious ass (and if they were like everybody else in this fucking town, they wouldn't take it well.) His house was nice. Small, two stories, but with a sort of coziness to it that you definitely wouldn't find anywhere near Gerard's place… most likely because of the whole “inhabited by the undead” thing. 

When Mitsy knocked Frank was all too eager to answer the door, a wide grin on his face. Gerard could've dropped dead a second time right then and there. Fuck, he was cute. Dangerously cute. Boys as cute as him don't come around every decade. Pushpins, Gerard, pushpins…

Fuck the metaphors. He'll have fun for a night. 

After Frank let them inside Gerard handed him the gloves he hadn't bothered to wrap. If his heart could still beat he was sure it'd be throbbing out of his chest right now. Heart… blood… fuck, not now! 

He retracted his shaky hands and hid them in his pockets, smiling to hopefully deter from the  fact he was having undead heart palpitations, “Hey, uh- they're kind of last minute…  I thought you'd like them.” 

Frank beamed at the gloves, then at Gerard. He snapped the plastic holding them together and immediately slid them on his hands. 

“Holy shit, thanks dude. These are great.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Frank caught Gerard off guard suddenly by pulling him into a one-armed hug. Shit. Fuck. He didn't expect to get this close at all. Frank's pulse was loud and demanding in his ears, the smell of his blood so thick in the air suddenly he started getting dizzy. This wasn't good. 

Just as his fangs began to stab through his gums Frank pulled away from him. The sudden absence of his scent made his stomach twist with hunger. Why didn't he bring a bloodbag? 

He glanced over at Mikey and Pete, wondering if they'd seen the bloodthirsty spectacle Gerard had just put on. Sure enough, they both shared the same worried expression. It was weird how in sync they were most of the time. 

“What the hell was that?” Mikey’s voice in his head startled him somewhat. 

“I don't know. I didn't expect him to get so close to me,” Gerard replied, “I could smell his blood. Did my face go all weird?”

“You looked like you were in pain.”

“I hope he didn't see that.” 

Thankfully, Frank seemed oblivious to it all. He was in the living room now, digging through a case of various VHS tapes and some DVDs as he chatted with Mitsy about horror movies. 

“God, I just realized something.” Gerard said.

“What?” 

“Imagine the irony if he picks a vampire movie.” 

Frank turned to the rest of the group, holding a tape of the 1992 Dracula above his head, “You guys okay with this?” 

“Fuuuuuuck me!” 

At least the Coppola film wasn't a total disgrace to vampire imagery. Bram Stoker was nice enough to not make them out to be dangerously handsome and glitter in the sun, but Gerard didn't necessarily like when Frank blurted out the question if all vampires were old men with hot chicks in their castle. Mitsy seemed to be enamored with the topless vampire girls. Figures. 

Halfway through the movie the doorbell rang. Mitsy, not breaking her trance from the sets of tits on the screen, spoke up, “Frank, who's that? I thought we were the only ones coming?” 

Frank hopped up from the couch to answer the door, “Where'd you get that from?” 

Suddenly the atmosphere shifted. As the door clicked open, a sudden sense of threat fell over the vampires, like prey realizing the predator is lurking behind them. The colors of the room intensified as every sense of theirs heightened. 

Gerard had only ever read about this. Werewolves. 

Sensing the confused panic from Pete and Mikey beside him, he communicated, “Werewolf. Whoever else Frank invited is one of them.” 

“Should we leave?” Mikey asked, fear in his eyes. 

“No, we should be fine. I don't sense any trouble, I just smell dog.” 

Cautiously Gerard glanced over the top of the couch. In the doorway talking to Frank stood a tall, somewhat muscular guy that looked to be their (physical) age, with thick brown locks falling down past his jawline. His smile gave Gerard the idea that he posed no threat, but he couldn't be too sure right now. When the two locked eyes the guy’s smile faded for half a second, his eyes flashing a bright yellow. A threat? Or just an acknowledgement? 

When Frank turned back to the group the three feigned obliviousness, acting just the same as they had before. “Guys, this is Ray. He doesn't go to our school– sorry, I should've told you guys.” 

Yeah, really, Gerard sneered to himself. For the sake of Frank, he was willing to be civil about having one of his kind’s mortal enemies in the same room as him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be on edge and ready to pounce at any sign of aggression from the werewolf. 

Ray took a seat between Frank and Mitsy, all too close to Gerard. God, he was getting a headache. This felt worse than his last encounter with a crucifix.

“Excuse me,” He muttered, standing from the couch and heading for the back deck. Maybe he'd catch a smoke to calm his nerves (of course he brings a pack of cigs, but no blood.)

Frank had a small backyard… small house, small neighborhood… or maybe it was all just average sized, and Gerard was so used to his kind-of huge mansion and widespread backyard, with his non-existent neighborhood, that everything else was just so small to him. This was the first time in centuries that he'd been anywhere but his own house… 

The door behind him slid open, making him flinch. Thankfully it was only Mikey; he didn't really want anyone else finding him lost in his own stupid thoughts besides his brother. 

“Hey.” 

Gerard took a long drag from his cigarette, “You couldn't stand him either?” 

Mikey shook his head, leaning over the railing, “Ray doesn't seem to be a problem. Actually, he seems pretty okay. Maybe we should give him a chance?” 

Gerard shrugged in response, “Yeah… how's Pete taking it though?” 

“He's so freaked out. He's all cuddling up to me and shit, it's kind of sweet.” 

“Anybody noticed how weird we're acting yet?”

“Oblivious! Of course, Mitsy can't get enough of the girls in the movie, so she doesn't care, and Frank and Ray don't seem to give two shits. I didn't know they were so into vampires. Good news for you, huh?” 

Gerard laughed, “Oh my God, shut up, Mikey!” 

“Come on, let's get back inside before they start thinking we ditched.”

When they got inside Pete was quick to jump up off the couch and almost sprint over to them, a concerned look on his face. Had something happened with Ray while they were outside? Did he do something to Pete? 

“We need to talk, in private,” Pete muttered under his breath, “Now.” 

He led the two into the hallway, hoping they wouldn't be missed. Nobody on the couch moved, all of them too focused on the movie to even bother with the three of them. Oh, damn, the movie was getting good, too. 

Once in the hallway Pete glanced around a few times before speaking so softly he was barely heard, “Ray needs to leave.”

Mikey quirked an eyebrow, “What? But I thought he was harmless?”

“ None of those things are ever harmless,” Pete urged, “When I was a kid my mom used to tell me about the members of our coven who were brutally slain by werewolves, and since then we’ve had this way of getting in those guys’ heads. Ray knows what we are. And he’s not too fond of us.”

“Pete, if anyone knows anything about werewolves, it’s me. I’m the Head Vampire of my coven now. And even if Ray did pose a threat, it’s not like he’d lash out and kill us in the middle of Frank’s party, let alone in front of everybody,” Gerard objected, and Pete frowned at him, “It’s not worth worrying about. Trust me.” 

Pete turned away wordlessly, rejoining the others on the couch.

The movie ended soon after, which ended up clearing out most of the party. Ray was all too eager to get home almost as soon as it started getting dark and the clouds were breaking up. He lied about curfew, but the vampires knew the truth. In a few minutes the moon would be at its peak, meaning he couldn’t hold back his instincts anymore. Gerard couldn’t imagine ever being a werewolf; the nighttime is the most beautiful thing for a vampire, imagine missing it just to turn into some ravenous hairy beast. 

Mitsy left after Ray, Mikey and Pete following suit. That left just Frank and Gerard, alone. Again. Fuck. 

“Thanks for the gloves, man. And thanks for coming.” Frank grinned at him.

Gerard returned the favor as best he could, knowing that if he still had blood in his veins it would've all been pooling at his cheeks. One perk of being dead, nobody knows when you’re blushing.

“No problem, Frankie,” The nickname slipped out, but Frank must’ve not been paying attention. Another, brighter smile, and another somewhat painful hug for Gerard. He was fiending for some blood now, unfortunately it wasn’t going to be Frank’s at the moment. 

Gerard left with another quick goodbye, the cool October air soothing his nerves.

Chapter Text

Frank’s bed felt especially suffocating that night,  crowded and yet empty at the same time. He’d been alone before. His parents had left like this—hell, they do it all the time—but the lingering presence of his friends haunted him, especially Gerard. 

He wasn’t sure why him, specifically. Maybe it had something to do with the movie they watched that day, and the fact Gerard looked so much like the vampires in them. Porcelain-white skin that would become almost translucent in the sun so Frank could see every vein strangely well, and that contrasted against his black hair always gave him a sort of living corpse look, that he really couldn’t deny did enchant him. 

In fact, a lot of things about Gerard enchanted him, whether he was all that open about it or not. He hadn’t had time to worry about him being gay, growing up Catholic and everything, but Gerard was… confusing him. He’d known a lot of guys in his life, obviously, but none of them were like Gerard at all. None of them had ever kept him up late at night, memorizing the patterns in his ceiling tile as he didn’t even try to fight the thoughts that popped in his mind. The way Gerard’s hair fell just on his shoulders, unkempt but in a way, gracefully, the way his face scrunched up when he smiled, wide and genuine… So maybe Frank was into him, just a little bit. Who wouldn’t be?

The more he thought about Gerard, the more he missed him. The colder his bed got– or maybe that just happened to be his fan that he didn’t know why he kept on, even in the fall. The emptier his house got. He turned on his side as if expecting to feel a body next to his, anyone’s, even Mitsy’s, God forbid, but disappointed when he felt nothing.

And realized just how alone he was.

He fell asleep to the soft humming of his ceiling fan sooner or later, his room still feeling barren. He hoped he wouldn’t dream because he knew what the subject would be, and he knew how shitty he’d feel waking up from a dream about Gerard… This was screwing him up. 

Later in the night he woke up with the strange feeling of someone watching him looming over his every move. He laid dead still in the bed for a few minutes before cautiously sitting up.

Gerard was at the foot of his bed, eyes locked on him. 

Frank screamed, “What… how… Why are you in my room?! How did you get in?!”

“Frankie…” 

His voice, it didn’t sound like his. It was slightly deeper and somewhat distorted, but also carried a sultry hint to it Frank hadn’t heard before. Still, he cowered next to his nightstand like a scared child. Gerard moved closer to him slowly, a grin on his lips and a hunger in his eyes you’d only ever see on an animal predator, seeking out its prey. Was he about to kill him? 

“I’ve been soooo thirsty, Frankie…” Gerard purred, his face now inches away from Frank’s, so close he could see a strange red tint in his eyes, “Thirsty for blood, for yours… ”

An ice cold hand reached up around the base of his neck, the other resting on his shoulder. Frank didn’t fight; in fact, he melted into the chilling touch, leaning his head back as if to present his veins to Gerard, or who he thought was Gerard, at least. Even if it wasn’t, it’s not like he had a conscience at this point. His mind was completely blank, as if this… creature had got in his head, and he had no control over his thoughts or movements anymore. Gerard’s lips parted and his mouth stretched open to reveal a pair of razor-sharp canine teeth. Fangs. A surge of panic shot through Frank, but he stayed still.

His skin broke with a harsh crack-like noise, echoing in his ears and throughout the dead silent room. He couldn’t feel pain as Gerard drank his blood, all he felt was the hot liquid dripping down his neck and for sure staining his sheets and the collar of his shirt. Gerard’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close desperately, the bloodsucker making a noise like a whimper as he drank. Frank didn’t care. He didn’t think to fight back or tell him to stop. He couldn’t think. He didn’t believe he had the capacity to form a single coherent thought at the moment, Gerard’s soft caress as he drained his neck fogging up his mind completely, that and the fact he was so disconnected from himself. He wondered how much blood he’d have left after this… if he’d even make it out alive. Maybe, when his parents came back on Wednesday, they’d find him in a pool of his own blood. How would the police explain a bite from a vampire? 

Gerard backed away, blood staining his mouth and slowly trailing down his neck, stark crimson against pure white skin. It didn’t even look like him; once soft and doll-like features became ravenous and bloodthirsty, his eyes were dilated beyond human ability. He panted heavily, taking in the sight of Frank, weak and half-alive as he was. 

When Frank’s eyes started to drift closed, the creature grabbed him by the chin, long black claw-like nails digging into his tender flesh.

“I didn’t take too much, did I?”

Frank really couldn’t answer that. 

Gerard straddled his hips between his legs, the sudden pressure drawing Frank somewhat out of his trance. What really made him get his consciousness back, was when Gerard pressed their lips together. The taste of his own blood seeped into his mouth, but still, Frank wanted more. Even in his weakened state he could process that. 

“I… needed you…” Gerard whispered between the breaks, “Needed this…”

He bit down again, this time into Frank’s lip, drawing more of the crimson liquid and a pathetic-sounding yelp out of the latter. Blood dripped haphazardly; Frank knew his sheets were never recovering from this. 

The kiss was over too soon. Gerard seemed to back away almost immediately, a hint of regret and even fear in his dark eyes. Frank frowned and tried to reunite their lips, but Gerard put a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, tears spiking the corners of his eyes, “I didn’t mean to do any of this. Frankie. I need to go.”

“Stay…” Frank demanded lazily.

“I can’t.”

In a flash of black Gerard disappeared, leaving the stench of  blood behind him.

Frank’s eyes shot open, jolting up from his pillow. What the hell was that? His eyes scanned the room for any blood or signs of Gerard (not that he wanted to see either of those things,) finding none, thankfully. He brought his hand up to his neck to feel for still-fresh bites and licked inside his lip; none. Nothing happened. It was just a dream. Gerard didn’t break into his house, and he’s not a freak-ass bloodsucker…

He turned to his window. It was morning.

Chapter Text

Nobody could know. 

The guilt was eating Gerard alive suddenly, along with the lingering metallic taste of Frank’s blood, oddly fresh on his tongue. He needed more. He needed Frank. 

Nobody could know. 

Not Mikey. Not Pete, and especially not Anastacia, should she ever contact him beyond her second-grave. Did Frank know? Did he even remember? 

Whatever. It didn’t matter. He had more things to worry about rather than his stupid homoerotic, bloodthirsty escapade from last night. For example; it was Halloween today. 

Not only was it Frank’s–he shuddered. Even mentioning his name made Gerard wallow in shame–real birthday today, but Halloween for vampires was no fun. This was the night when all the neighborhood kids would storm his house and giggle to themselves about the ‘scary vampires’ living here. Great. Maybe biting them would teach them a lesson, and quench his thirst while he’s at it. 

His stomach growled, almost in an excited agreement. “Drinking” from Frank last night didn’t even come close to filling him up. Drinking from someone in a dream didn’t work the same way doing it in reality is. In dreams, blood does nothing. You can feel the sensation, you can bite and suck as long as you want, and you can twist the psychology of your victim to make them believe something is really happening… but nothing comes out of it. Your victim doesn’t lose any blood, but you don’t gain any either. And when you wake up, you’re just as hungry as before.

He didn’t feel like waking Pete and Mikey up… nor did he really feel like getting out of his own bed, even though they did , unfortunately have school today, which also meant that Gerard would have to suffer the torment of seeing Frank again, and probably getting told something along the lines of, “ Hey, Gerard, you were in my dream last night, being really gay and drinking my blood. Are you a fiend to the Catholic church or what?” Also great. 

He dragged himself out of bed, accidentally getting his leg wrapped up in his comforter and landing on his ass with a thud. He cursed to himself and yanked his leg out of its fabric prison. Gee, this day just kept getting better and better!

Maybe this was punishment.

At school he couldn’t focus. Not only was he entirely right about Frank (“Weird. Well, it was just a dream, Frank, I’m not a vampire. Duh.”) but he had also been getting ridiculed in the halls every step he took. Bad day to wear all black. 

The things he heard in the halls were somewhat ruthless, but nothing he’d never heard. The insults ranged anywhere from ‘hey goth kid!’ to things he didn’t even feel right saying in his head. He had to admit, kids around here knew how to get creative. Even Frank was going through the same thing, as if having your birthday on Halloween in a mainly religious and ultraconservative town wasn’t enough of a death sentence. He told Gerard some kid asked him if he was Satan’s son, which was honestly pretty badass. By the time it was lunch, he couldn’t wait to sink his fangs into his “fruit punch.” The whole day he’d been starving, since he skipped his vampiric breakfast, and bagged blood was better than no blood in his case, even if it did carry less of a taste and was warm at this point…

Mitsy was waiting for him at the lunch table, tapping furiously on the keys of her Sidekick. He froze, confused. 

“...Wh-”

“SHHH!” Mitsy spat, batting at him, “Have you seen that big burly asshole, Trevor, the one I punched on your first day here?”

Gerard sat across from her cautiously, placing his messenger bag on the floor, “Uhh, no… I ‘ve only passed him in the halls, but he hasn’t tried anything. Why?” 

“LOOK!” 

She flipped the phone around to reveal a grainy header to a news article that read; ‘New Jersey boy, 18, found dead, and missing a throat.’ Gerard’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

Of course he didn’t do it… and he’d never expect needless homicide out of someone like Mikey, or even Pete for that matter. Maybe the ripped-out throat wasn’t even a vampire thing– maybe it was just the murderer’s morbid signature? Who says it was a creature of the night at all? Still, a murder so close to home, and so violent, scared him. A vampire could take a bullet, stabbing (to an extent, of course) but what if the killer was just hunting teenagers specifically? Who was in danger? Mitsy? Frank?

He felt like he was gonna puke. 

The rest of them joined the table, and Mitsy showed them each the news. She seemed strangely upset, even though Gerard was pretty sure she hated him. Beside her, Frank looked spooked, his eyes wide and darting, asking frantic questions about the incident, almost as if he believed he was next. 

Gerard shivered at the thought.

Later in the afternoon they held a makeshift assembly, pulling students out of their classes and gathering them in the gym where the principal stood in the center, holding a microphone. Everyone knew exactly what this was about, each person in the crowd holding a sorrowful expression that varied in levels, mostly depending on how much they knew him. Next to the principal stood a burly, rough-looking man with a white snapback and typical middle aged sports teacher fashion, and behind them a row of jocks. Trevor must’ve been part of the football team. Figures. 

The principal held the microphone to her mouth and spoke, “Good afternoon. I’m sure all of you know why we called you down. Just last night, one of our students and prized football players, Trevor Marshalls, was murdered. We understand how many of you must be distraught by this news, whether you knew him or not–” 

Trevor’s coach wiped his eyes as if to emphasize her point.

“Or you may just be scared about it all and need someone to talk to. In any case, the school counselors are open for sessions, which can cut into your schedule…”

The principal droned on. Gerard didn’t feel very much grief over Trevor, nor was he all that interested in talking to the unqualified shitty school counselors, who are only there to ask you what you want to do with the rest of your life, which he was currently hoping to spend not in here. Frank and Mitsy sat on either side of him on the uncomfortable bleachers. The orange glow of the setting autumn sun streaming in from the windows illuminated Frank’s features in the most beautiful way possible, Gerard noticed. Well, as beautiful as someone who looked quite literally on the verge of spontaneously combusting could. His eyes were full of panic, his mouth turned downwards, pushing his lip ring to the side somewhat. Either way, scared out of his mind or not, Frank’s pretty face was distracting Gerard from anything going on around him. Including Mikey begging for his attention telepathically.

“Can you stop being gay for two seconds?!” 

Gerard snapped to reality, “Kind of impossible, Mikey. What did you want?”

“Do you think the murderer was a vampire?” He asked, “I mean, ripped out throat? Sound familiar?” 

“Yeah, true, but I don’t know of any other vampires in town.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”

After the assembly cleared out everyone was sent home early. Gerard acknowledged that along with most of the football team sobbing together in one big huddle, along with a group of girls bawling their eyes out (which turned into them arguing about, “but he was going out with me!” which he kind of wished he stuck around for.) But most of the crowd were like Frank; scared. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? 

Something about this, though, was confusing him. The censored picture from the news article Mitsy had showed him presented the body as if it’d been purposefully placed out in the open, almost as if the murderer had wanted him to be found. No burying, no dismemberment, no trashbags or anything. It was strange. Almost as if it was some kind of stunt.

Frank came up to them as they were walking out to the car, followed by Mitsy, who kept darting her eyes around like she was being watched. 

“Hey guys. Can I stay at your house tonight?” He asked, his voice rushed, “My parents still aren’t home and I’m– I’m freaked the fuck out, man.”

“Me too. My house is empty until late at night. You gotta help us, dude, you gotta help us.”

Gerard, Mikey, and Pete glanced at each other. On one hand, Frank and Mitsy were their friends. Trustworthy and macabre enough that they wouldn’t care if they were vampires, nor would they go around spreading their secret. And they were horrified. Gerard understood that, and he definitely didn’t want to turn them down just to get a call tomorrow morning saying Frank’s body had been dumped in a bush, found in the same state as Trevor. He thought of the words they used to describe the corpse: stone-cold, mutilated, in fact the mere thought of Frank dead shook him to the core. He couldn’t risk it, and he couldn’t risk Mitsy getting hurt either.  He turned to the other two.

“ We have to.”

“ We can’t let humans in our spaces,” Pete protested, “That’s the number one rule of vampirism. We shouldn’t even be this involved as it is.” 

“What are we gonna do, say ‘no you can’t stay at our house, we don’t care if you end up dead tonight?’ Think about it, Pete. These are our friends, humans or not.” Mikey said. 

In response, Pete sighed and climbed into the backseat, crossing his arms. Mikey and Gerard nodded at each other.

“You can stay.”

Frank muttered a hurried ‘thank you’ and got in next to Pete, Mitsy sitting on his opposite. As they neared the house, Pete gave a final message, “ Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gerard had decided the excuses he’d use if any of them started asking questions. Oh, the decor? Yeah, it’s just for Halloween. Uhm, their mom was goth, that’s why everything is black or red… And she just really loved antique photography! Those pictures aren’t actually from the 1920’s… Whaaaaat? Blood in the fridge, pshh, that’s ridiculous… And sure, maybe his lies weren’t the best, but the two of them were just as dark and gloomy. If anything they’d find it cool or maybe even charming, or maybe they’d even expect this kind of stuff from Gerard and Mikey. Maybe they won’t even ask questions. 

God, maybe, maybe, maybe… Maybe for once in his un-life he’d have a solid answer for something. Not this century, he guessed. 

Mitsy had been to his house before, albeit only for a few hours, so she was less amazed by the spectacle of the mansion, if you could call it that. Frank, however, was immediately drawn in, gawking up at the large structure and the cemetery that surrounded it. When taking Frank’s house into consideration, they must seem stupid-rich to him. 

“Are you sure you guys aren’t vampires?” He asked playfully. Gerard could only give a small smile in response, feeling his stomach cave in on itself again. If only he knew. 

It was late into the night. Nothing had happened, in fact it was oddly quiet out. On the TV was some shitty low-budget slasher movie, which seemed to Gerard to be the worst time to watch anything like that, even if it was the least scariest thing they could’ve picked. Maybe that was the idea in the first place, to try and show them that murderers really weren’t all that scary. Not only was that a total lie, but it was also pretty useless considering nobody had even thought to stay up. Mikey and Pete were curled up into each other next to Gerard on the couch, Mitsy had used her backpack as a makeshift pillow and taken a blanket from storage, and Frank– Frank was the only one still up. His eyes blinked shut a few times, but he seemed to jerk himself awake each time they did. 

“This movie sucks,” Frank mumbled, making Gerard jump. He didn’t know Frank was still conscious enough to form sentences still.
“We don’t have to watch it,” Gerard suggested.

“What else is there to do,” He said, “Besides, it’s making me feel a little better. This killer is stupid. How do we know Trevor’s isn’t?”

“Anybody who doesn’t know to hide a body is stupid.” 

Gerard froze, realizing what that sounded like. “You didn’t hear that from me.” 

Frank chuckled at that, his smile lazy but still just as pretty as ever. It reminded Gerard of last night, at the party… But it also reminded him of what happened after they’d left, and the guilt was back suddenly. He got that sinking feeling in his chest again, and while he wanted to share Frank’s smile, he couldn’t bring himself to make it sincere. Fortunately, it was dark enough to hide it. 

They turned their attention back to the movie, which was now onto one of those stereotypical car makeout scenes, involving the ditzy somehow-still-alive blond, and the outcast nerd who Gerard knew was going to end up the hero. As the girl leaned in closer he started stammering through a faked lisp, ‘oh boy!’ What a loser. It was only a matter of time before the axe-wielding maniac got to them.

“Seriously, we need to find something better. This is killing me.” Frank said.

Gerard shivered somewhat at his choice of words, “You wanna just go to bed?”

“Couch is already pretty occupied, wouldn’t you say?” He nodded to Pete and Mikey across from them, “I think I’m too afraid to sleep, anyways. This is screwing me up. I mean, Trevor was an asshole, but nobody really had any actual problem with him–not enough of one to kill him, at least. If we knew what the motif was, things might not be as bad, but there are so many questions! Are they only targeting high school kids? Was it just at random, did they just pick him up off the street to tear his throat out like a goddamn bloodsucker?”

Ignoring Frank’s usage of what was basically a slur for vampires, Gerard agreed. The whole thing was extremely odd and nothing really made much sense. It’s not like Trevor was an easy target or could be easily taken down. The guy was a unit; built like Zeus and tall as hell. The average serial killer, or psychopath for that matter, was usually some skinny loser. Trevor could’ve snapped someone like that in half like a graham cracker. The only person who could overpower a guy like him would be, well, a vampire. Or just some kind of supernatural creature in general–

Oh. Shit. 

He had no proof it was Ray. He didn’t even go to the school, how would he know Trevor? And anyways, it’s not like Ray needed to kill to keep himself alive or anything, werewolves didn’t do that.

Unless he did.

For sport. 

It’s entirely possible that Ray was more dangerous than he let on. Gerard wished he had managed to force himself into his mind at the party right now, regretting the fact that he didn’t. Maybe the fact Ray left the party first was to go on his nightly hunt, of which just happened to be Trevor. But why would he tear out his throat? That’s no meal, and he certainly isn’t no vampire. So Ray was out of the question. For now.

The movie went silent. A thud was heard outside. 

Frank jumped out of his skin next to Gerard, and he could hear his pulse throbbing profusely. “What was that?!” He shouted, alerting the others. Mitsy rose at the sound of his voice, Pete and Mikey stirring awake on the couch.

“What happened?” Mitsy asked, yawning.

“Nothing, it was just a noise.” Gerard didn’t even believe himself, though. He stood from the couch and peeked through the lace-trimmed curtains. Pure black. No movement. That meant nothing, anything could be hiding in those shadows. 

“Gerard,” Mikey appeared next to him, “What kind of noise?” 

He had stopped listening when Frank’s heartbeat kicked up and he started breathing heavily. Right now, that was all he was worried about, along with everybody else. He had to go out and see if there really was something out there; and his gut was telling him there was. Something dangerous. 

Maybe tonight would end in bloodshed after all. 

He ignored Mikey and started towards the door.

“Gerard, don’t!!” 

He turned to see Frank, eyes wide and threatening tears, gripping his shirt sleeve so hard he thought it’d tear, “Don’t go out there. It’s too dangerous! What if it’s him ?”

Gerard brought his hands to Frank’s face, which he noticed slowed his heartbeat some. With his sad, pleading, puppy dog-esque eyes boring into him the way they were, he almost wanted to say no. But he knew that he couldn’t, for Frank’s sake. For everyone’s sake, and if things went ideally, possibly the whole town’s sake. 

“I have to,” He answered softly, “I won’t let ‘him’ hurt you. Not any of you. You came for safety. I’m gonna make sure it stays that way.”

“I’m coming with you,” Pete said. Gerard could tell he was equally as scared, but was feigning any kind of confidence at all, most likely for Mikey’s sake, “It’s better you don’t go alone.”

Leaving behind the most frightened group of kids they’d seen, Gerard and Pete went out into the cold, dead night, readying their fangs for the attacker’s neck.

“You think it’s another vampire?” Pete whispered.

“Mikey’s gotten to you too, huh? Unlikely. Every one but us in Newark died out,” or at least he thought, “Because of the Head Slayer. Unless someone got Turned, it’s probably just some murderous asshole.”

Nothing was out in plain sight, but that wasn't really surprising. Nothing ever is. He and Pete decided on splitting up and covering the grounds separately; Gerard would take the cemetery and Pete would monitor the perimeter. Besides the murderer, another threat lingered. The Slayer.

It wouldn’t be surprising if she tried to strike tonight, especially after Trevor’s tragedy, she would probably be able to get away with it with no suspicion falling on her. Maybe she was planning to massacre all of them, and making a noise outside was only a distraction to get the Head Vampire (of his coven, at least)  out of the house. Shit. Maybe it would’ve been better if he stayed inside. Mitsy was in there, though. If Mitsy could punch Trevor, Mitsy could punch anybody. 

The cemetery was empty, mostly, apart from a few bats chirping around here and there. Opening the creaking gate, he stepped through into the vast field of headstones, new beside worn, some bare and others adorned with roses, and one depressingly fresh. While Anastacia had her body buried back in Transylvania, she was still given a memorial grave at the cemetery. Gerard sat on the ground in front of it. Engraved into the stone was ‘ANASTACIA D’MITRIS 1755-2005, Way Coven,’ and beneath that in Romanian, ‘Her beauty and bravery live on in all of us.’ Yeah, right. He wished. 

Seeing as the coast was clear, and Pete was far off and out of earshot, he decided to talk to her (or whatever there was of her here, if anything.) The thing he’d missed the most.

His quiet, cracking voice broke the stillness, "I'm scared, momma.

“I was scared when you died. I was scared of what would happen to me and Mikey not having you around. I’ve managed that, at least. We’re doing fine. Or we were. But now we’ve got so much weight on our shoulders from everything–from doing your job, from school, from this murder, and from the Slayer. I wish you were here so you could tell us who she is and we could just be done with the whole thing. Does Jennifer even have a daughter? Was this just some elaborate ruse from the council to get us out of the house?”

He was met with silence. Sighing, he continued.

“I don’t know what to do. Mikey and Pete will be fine, but I have human friends, and I care about them. I’m scared of what’ll happen to them through all this. What if  I can’t protect them? What if they die, and it’s all my fault? I wish you were here, because I don’t know what I’m doing, but you… you always did. I wish I had half the sense you did. Even after everything you taught us, I still ended up a–”

“Gerard?”

He turned at the sound of Pete’s voice, “Are we clear?”

He nodded, and Gerard stood. He kissed his hand and placed it on the headstone before walking out, whispering, ‘goodbye, momma.’ 

As they neared the house more shuffling was heard. Tense and on guard, they looked to the source, seeing a looming shadow emerge from the trees. In their left hand, the moon gave just enough light to see the outline of a stake. The Slayer.  

But… it wasn’t.

Broad shoulders and a smirk above their somewhat strong jawline told them otherwise. No, this Slayer was a man. He had shaggy brown hair that fell just near his shoulders and the faint shadow of a beard starting. He looked too old to be an 18-year-old, nor did he go to their school. This wasn’t their Slayer, not the one they were looking for. Still, no matter who this mysterious Slayer was, he wasn’t going to come out of this alive, maybe bruised at best. 

“Well, well, here he is. The head of the Way Coven.” He spoke, his voice pathetically unassuming and meek, “We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Your choice.”

“I don’t think anything is gonna go your way tonight,” Gerard spat, feeling his fangs begin to stab into his bottom lip. Next to him Pete hissed and bared his fangs. “You can leave now and return to whatever shithole you crawled out of, maybe even make it out alive. Or, if you feel so obliged to fight, you can die. It’s your choice.” 

The Slayer snarled and lunged at them, Gerard and Pete swerving out of the way just in time. He frowned as he stood, face full of dirt, and went for Pete. The vampire grabbed him by the throat before he could even try a swing, sending him flying halfway across the clearing. The Slayer persisted, though, finally managing to tackle Pete to the ground. He couldn’t do much but get in a few punches before he was once again disoriented and flung onto his back, and Pete stomped on one of his ribs. He howled, and Gerard took the open opportunity to push himself into the Slayer’s thoughts. This way he would have no chance of winning because Gerard would already know his next move. 

“Filthy bloodthirsty fucks… Why did Jennifer set me up to this? That daughter of hers would’ve been better for the job…” 

So he worked for Jennifer, then? Made sense, considering he seemed to be just as cowardly. When he stood again, bringing his hand to his bruised chest, he went straight for Gerard, who swiftly moved out of the way. 

“Honestly, I thought you’d be smarter than this, considering you are a Slayer after all,” And a lousy excuse for one, he thought, “Didn’t they ever teach you anything about us? No matter how good you think you are at fighting, we’ll always have the upper hand. That’s how it goes.”

“Then how do you explain this?” His stake-free hand gestured to the row of graves behind him, “‘Upper hand’? In what world? You are inferior. Accept it, and let me kill you.”

At that point Gerard saw red. He was unsure if it was another attack like one he had experienced before, or just pure anger from this feeble Slayer putting disrespect on, not only his, but the Newark covens before him. A simple human like him had no right. He snapped.

His eyes shone a brilliant red in the dark of the night. Pushing himself into the Slayer’s mind, he heard an array of swears as he threw himself at the defenseless mortal. With one hand on the underside of his jaw and the other in his hair, he broke his neck with a swift movement. His screams of terror died out and were replaced by Pete’s various noises of confusion and stammering. Without hesitation, Gerard bit down into the Slayer’s neck, fangs pushing through the fragile skin. He’d been so hungry. Every whiff of blood from Frank or Mitsy, or any human for that matter, drove him wild with lust and thirst; he’d missed sinking his teeth into something real and warm, and the feeling of blood flowing from a victim’s wounds and down his neck. The whole front of him, as well as the Slayer’s, was drenched in blood with no signs of stopping. In that moment he forgot everything around him; Pete, the cemetery, the whole town felt like nothing but a faint memory, it was just him and the sweetness of fresh blood he’d missed so much. He never wanted to stop.

“Gerard!” 

Pete’s cries were useless, even using the strength he’d inherited from his vampirism to try and rip him off the Slayer’s neck, it was impossible. 

“Gerard! Let go!”

He couldn’t. He drank until he couldn’t taste any blood besides what had already come out earlier. At the end of it, the Slayer was inhumanly white and thin like a skeleton, a morbid contrast from what he was like before. Gerard frowned at the discarded body, taunted by the lingering smell of blood. He lapped up whatever was left over. 

“I wanted some,” Pete whined. 

They only went back into the house after their fangs had retracted, though there wasn’t much they could do about the spilled blood. Gerard would have to somehow pass it off as a bad nosebleed and maybe a split lip if he could convince them. When they walked through the door they were met with looks of relief, which turned into confusion and somewhat fear at the sight of Gerard so bloody. While Mikey kissed Pete and checked for any pressing injuries, Gerard snuck off into the upstairs bathroom to clean himself off before too many questions were asked. 

His reflection was morbid. He was used to being porcelain-white and his hair more often than not being tousled and unkept, but it seemed like his whole face had changed after his feeding. His eyes were like ice, not only cold but frighteningly white, not their usual hazel. The blood had dried by now, becoming a deep dark crimson. He hoped nobody had caught on downstairs before this, because with the way it looked there was no valid excuse other than, ‘I drank his blood.’ Downstairs, Pete was being stormed by questions.

“Who was it? Was it the killer?” Frank asked.

Pete shook his head, “No, just some guy. He was armed, though, so we had to take him down. “

“Did you win?” 

“Pssh, of course. The guy was a total pussy.”

“Wait, how did you know it wasn’t the killer?” Mitsy questioned, her tone accusing. 

“Because he sucked ! Gerard took him down like it was nothing. I only helped, but barely. I didn't have to do much. Yeah, there’s no way this guy could’ve killed Trevor.” 

Leaving Mitsy and Mikey to questions, Frank wandered away from the group and went to find Gerard in the bathroom, who had cleaned the blood off of him and was now smearing hydrogen peroxide over the collar of his shirt. 

“Dude, you look insane.” Gerard jumped at the sound of his voice from the doorway, going eerily still. When he met Frank’s eyes, they sent a shiver down him. He didn’t know eyes could change color like that, unless they were a… 

No, there’s no way. It’s probably a light thing. Vampires aren’t real.

“Yeah?” Gerard answered simply, his voice weak. He threw the somewhat-cleaned shirt over the curtain rod and pushed past Frank. 

“So what was with the blood?”

He licked his lips, tongue catching on the point of an extended fang, “Bad nosebleed.”

Chapter Text

Hey everyone ^^ Before I get into this extremely important announcement I just wanna say thank you for the support I have been given so far with my current work. I know I am a bit of a mediocre writer and I'm really working on that (kind of what this announcement is about,) and this has been a sort of passion project of mine since middle school, so it is really nice to see people enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it .. well kinda. 

For a time now I've been questioning myself; a lot of things don't make sense in here, for instance the way I portray vampires is both classic and modern, which overlaps weird, and a lot of things happen for kind of no reason here. All of that I've been working on! I've taken some time to reflect on the story and things I'd like to change, which is the point of this announcement.

No, I'm not putting this story through another vigorous rewrite that is going to take 2 summers for me to be completely happy with. I'm leaving this version as it is up on the website until I can get my shit together via the correlating google doc. I've been doing a lot of reworking with the plot, the concepts and somewhat the characters. Like I say most every chapter, they are rushed. I'm building most of the story completely off of impulse with no real outline in mind, which is NEVER something you wanna do if you're planning to dedicate most of your time to a story. It can make it harder to write, take more time, and overall just make a really weak story. I realize that now. That's kind of how I've been writing since... forever, so it was out of habit. Sorry for the plot vomit. Hehe

So, yeah, expect some changes but nothing immediately. If you find this story kind of-- awkwardly written and uncharming? That's my fault. Check back in a few weeks (or months.. >,,<) and it should be better. Sorry, I just really hate leaving this up the way it is. It's okay, but I know it could be better and that really bothers me. 

-Crimson