Frank was okay, for the most part, at least right now anyway: he hadn't heard from Alex in a few days, and him and Gerard were pretty much fine, well they were fucking on pretty much a daily basis, and therefore, Frank was just left to conclude that everyday fucking was just what fine meant to Gerard: he wasn't the easiest person to date, to say the least, but for Frank, he was the only person worth dating, even if Frank had to put up with stroppy vampire fits on occasion, or well, more than just occasion, he still loved him, and that looked incredibly unlikely that it was going to change anytime soon.

Or at least that was what Frank thought.

And in fact, the nineteen year old was so fucking complacently happy that he had even opted to spend the day fucking baking with his grandmother, who really wasn't actually that bad when his grandfather wasn't around, and as long as the topic of conversation was strictly cookies and nothing else, because goddamn, although she may be nice to him right now, there was no question about the fact that she would kill him if she found out about Gerard and just what they were doing.

Gerard was pretty much the arch nemesis of the Catholic Church: he was like the fucking antichrist. And simply because he was a combination of all things strict, almost scary Catholics hated: a vampire and a homosexual.

And of course, Gerard would be nothing but proud to know this, and would probably end up adding it to his CV if he ever considered stopping being an undead creature who drank blood and instead becoming someone behind the counter at McDonalds.

It was unlikely, to say the least, but whatever.

"Frank, are you listening?" The nineteen year old was soon sprung from a rather 'interesting' daydream involving Gerard killing his grandparents - he wasn't mentally disturbed, he promised. 

"N- sorry, I was-" Frank stuttered out, coming within seconds of letting a sarcastic and generally unwelcomed 'not really' slip in front of his grandmother.

"Daydreaming." She finished for him, sighing out. "I know." And really, Frank didn't know quite what to make of that, and just continued stirring the bowl of ingredients whilst pretending to show at least a vague interest: he was doing alright, he thought, at least.

"Your head's in an entirely different world to your body: I was like you when I was younger." The explanation came after a few minutes of silence, and it caused Frank to stop and pondered her confession for just a second, before turning to make eye contact with his grandmother.

"Why not anymore?" He asked, curious, and to the extent that she'd even begin to regret telling him anything of the like in the first place.

"I grew up." She sighed out, turning away in an attempt to keep the look on her face hidden. "I realised that there's no use in the fact; the real world, reality's down here."

"I don't want to ever be like that." Frank's tone grew quiet, almost awaiting the punishment for saying such a thing, but to his surprise, no such punishment came his way.

"Neither did I."

And then, like nothing had happened, she was back to grease proofing a baking tin, and Frank was left to wonder about the whole world and what could have been.

"Why-" Frank tried, he did, but it was over, and perhaps he just refused to accept as such.

"Leave it, Frank. Please, it's unimportant." And in the silence which Frank struggled to fill, the front door slammed upon and in came his grandfather, and almost in turn, the sinking feeling in the bottom of Frank's stomach: the two didn't get along, to say the least, and to say all that Frank could.

"I wasn't expecting you yet-" Frank's grandmother began, only to be cut off by her husband: face contorted with anger as if it was on fire with rage, and Frank was just frozen upon the spot: eyes widen and open in his grandfather's direction.

"Broken." He slammed his fist against the kitchen counter top, causing Frank to jump back a little, and his wife to only flinch, keeping eye contact with her husband as he spoke to her. "It's broken, you know what." And then a glance in Frank's direction. "It."

"The treaty?" She exclaimed, eyes widening a little in shock: the cookie mixture half made and abandoned, as Frank's heart beat slowed and then doubled and then stopped completely for a good few seconds before hammering in his chest at such a rhythm that he began to fear for it falling out.

Frank's grandfather glanced in Frank's direction, before sending his gaze back to his wife. "He doesn't need to know."

"He has to, now, at the very least - it's not going to be a secret forever, no matter what we do." She stood up to her husband in what was a rather questionable belief, and although worthy, one unless to her, as Frank stood there beside her, knowing far too much and far much more than the two of them.

"The treaty is unimportant-" He tried again, but as Frank slowly began to breathe regularly again, he swallowed the vomit crawling up the back of his throat and met his grandfather straight in the eyes.

"I know about the treaty. I know what it is and I know who it involves, and I know far much more than you'd think." Frank exhaled, almost smiling at the next part. "I've been here for months now - did you really think that I wasn't ever going to find out about the vampires that are fucking talk of the town."

"Don't use that word." His grandfather's response was startled and unsettled, yet quick in succession: his head racing as Frank spoke.

"What? I'm nineteen, it's just a swear-" Frank protested, fucking astounded that his use of the word 'fuck' was just about the only thing that mattered to his grandfather in such a confession.

"Not that one. The 'v word' - don't use it, we don't, the church don't - that's what's right." He sighed out, taking his coat off and hanging it on the hook before returning to an absolute fuming Frank.

"You know what? That's bullshit." Frank had lost his cool by now, and really, he'd lost just about everything: his head racing at a million miles a minute as he struggled to figure out just what that meant for Gerard and Mikey and Bob and everyone. Frank reckoned that Bob was probably freaking the fuck out right now, and well, he wasn't wrong.

"Frank-"

"You can't just ignore the fact that they exist to make yourself feel better about it, and you can't just refuse to say the word vampire as if it's a curse, because this isn't a curse and it isn't some Catholic church bullshit- it's real, it's fucking real... they're real... vampires, although technically dead, have lives, and they have feelings too, and although the ones in charge - the corrupted would have done this, I can guarantee you that there are vampires, just like me, just like us that don't want this, that just want peace and for everything to be okay."

"Give me your hand." Frank's grandfather snapped out, grabbing Frank's wrist before the nineteen year old could even respond.

"What-"

He ripped Gerard's bracelet off Frank's wrist. "You're friends with the vampires, aren't you, Frank?" He held the bracelet up to Frank. "This is vampiric - symbols, power, curses. I'm not sure what it means, but I am sure that you shouldn't be even talking to vampires let alone accepting cursed gifts from them if you at all value your life." He slammed his fist back down against the counter. "Who gave you this?"

And in a moment of idiocy, powered by adrenaline, Frank looked his grandfather straight in the eyes. "My boyfriend."

"You know what killed your parents, Frank?" His grandfather stepped closer: at breaking point now and it was beyond clear. "Vampires! Slaughtered them, destroyed them, and I have right to believe that such vampires are after you next. You're staying here, you got that? And I'm going to find this piece of shit that killed your parents and fucking-"

"Who." Frank's eyes widened, his head practically rolling off his shoulders as he had about six panic attacks all at once. "Who killed my parents?"

"His- It's name is Gerard Way."

-

Frank had stormed out after that, regardless of what they said, at that, Frank was utterly deadset upon finding this asshole of a boyfriend of his, and fucking slitting his throat, because fuck- just what the fuck?

Frank's head was full of a million questions and not a single answer, and it was driving him crazy, to see the least, and it was driving him to the point of wanting to kill his boyfriend, to say the most.

Because, fuck, this was not okay, and it never would be, and Frank didn't even know where he was headed, his feet just seemed to drag him to Bob's place: he just needed something or someone to punch and someone to scream at and tell his problems, and the maybe, just maybe, it'd all be okay.

It was unlikely, but Frank was more interested in actions as opposed to their outcome.

And within minutes, he was banging on Bob Bryar's door with his fist, and hoping that whoever answered it didn't have a particularly punchable face, because otherwise, well, to put it lightly, they were fucked.

"Frank-" He jumped a little as he found himself face to face with none other than Gerard Way: wide eyes trailing down to Frank's fists, and he almost looked startled, scared, and not like he was even capable of killing Frank's parents, but he did, and he had, and Frank knew it like he knew that he wanted nothing more than to punch that stare off his pretty little face.

And Frank did, and perhaps a little harder than he had originally intended.

Gerard ended up falling back against the wall with a rather satisfying crash, and Frank was left stood there: empty, and yet full of every question on the goddamn planet as he met his 'boyfriend's gaze again.

"I didn't break the treaty, Frank." Gerard sighed out, not quite sure what to make of this at all: this wasn't supposed to happen, Frank didn't hate him, Frank couldn't hate him - Gerard had made sure of that, but then he noticed the absence of the bracelet on Frank's wrist. "Mikey did." It was useless, but he still tried.

"I don't care." Frank snapped in response, rolling his eyes as he heard people moving towards them through the living room: it didn't matter. "You did kill my parents though."

And silence.

Because there was no way that Gerard could lie and manipulate his way out of this one, especially not now, especially not like this - that was for certain, yet still, he couldn't quite accept the fate of losing Frank, because whether he liked it or not, Frank Iero was more than he had bargained for, yet he still wouldn't change a thing, because there was just something beautiful about the nineteen year old that Gerard reckoned he'd never even begin to understand.

Frank was just beautiful, and with time, this had become more of love than lust, and really, that was the last thing Gerard had anticipated, and in turn, the last thing he'd anticipated being okay with, but he was, and they were - okay, that is.

But the truth was inevitable, this served to prove that, at the very least.

"Frank?" He jumped a little as Bob appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two of them with nothing short of a 'what the actual fuck has happened? Why here? Why now? I hate you so much, please I don't need this' expression.

"I'm okay." Gerard added, forcing a smile, but it became more of a wince, as he stood up properly.

"Gerard, your nose is bleeding, your lip is bleeding, you have like three bruises on your face-" Bob protested, still utterly clueless as to how on earth they'd gotten here.

"Whatever. I've had worse." Gerard struggled it, off forcing a smile, obviously fake smile in Bob's direction as he made a conscious and almost awkward effort to avoid Frank's gaze for as long as humanly possible, well technically Gerard wasn't a human, but, whatever.

"Yeah, like the wounds you got when you fucking killed my parents." Frank caught his gaze at that moment, leaving Bob to just stare at the two of them for a moment as he began to process just what the fuck had really just happened. "Fuck you, Gerard Way. Fuck you - I don't even want an explanation, I don't want more lies. I don't want to see you or talk to you again."

And with that Frank turned to make an exit, but then, he met the gaze of none other than Ray Toro, stood in the kitchen, 'spectating'.

-

"He's a fucking vampire now?" Frank exclaimed, shaking his head in utter disbelief at Ray, glancing between Mikey, Ray, Pete as the three attempted to catch him up on what had happened since Mikey nearly died.

Gerard had attempted to just get the fuck out of there, but Bob had made it clear that such a thing simply wasn't going to happen and dragged the vampire into the spare room, yes, the one where Ray's body lay under the rug for several days, but no one else needed to know that.

"Yeah." Ray sighed out, almost forcing a smile in Frank's direction, before turning to Mikey, and almost as if in reassurance, and it was just a little odd, to say the least, but it was none of Frank's business, and his head was already spinning like crazy, so he thought it best just to stay out of it, at least for the time being.

"He would have died otherwise." Mikey added, not quite meeting Frank's gaze, or Ray's either, for that matter. It was certainly odd, and as time passed, it only became harder and harder to ignore, and that was causing somewhat of a morality problem, to say the least.

"Actually he could have died like this as well, and he technically is dead, but-" Pete began, only for Mikey to give him a shove and his words to fade into silence entirely too quickly.

"Yeah... he's a vampire now, get over it." Mikey concluded, leaving Frank to turn away for a moment, glancing to the spare room where Gerard and Bob had headed, and in consequence, spent entirely too long just trying to stop himself from thinking about Gerard Way, from caring about Gerard Way, but he found himself meeting far more obstacles in such a mission than he'd ever care to admit.

"You knew, didn't you?" Frank drew his gaze back to Mikey, his tone stern and his words meaning far much more than he ever should have allowed them to, but Frank was too careless and too careful and all at the same time, and still always at the wrong times too - he was a fuck up, to put it simply.

"Frank-" Mikey was wide-eyed and flustered within seconds, almost pulling himself away from Frank as he shuffled into Ray's side, leaving Pete stood beside the two almost awkwardly, and almost regretfully, and Frank knew he'd been piecing this together soon enough, because at this point, there was absolutely no denying that there was something there.

"You fucking knew- you knew what he did, you did- you knew, and never, fucking never, did you ever even consider the tiny possibility of ever even wanting to consider telling me? Did it never even cross your mind that maybe, just maybe, such a thing was important? No, of course it didn't." Frank stepped away, shaking his head at Mikey. "Fuck you, Mikey Way, seriously, fuck you."

"Frank, just let me explain- things between Gerard and I are beyond complicated and-"

"And what? And nothing. You're as bad as him and I'm fucking going, Mikey, fuck this, fuck you, fuck him." Frank glanced across at the three of them one final time, before heading for the door. "You fucking knew, and I bet you did too, didn't you, Ray? We all know you're big on not telling me things- I mean, it's great that you're not dead now, but seriously, this is fucked up, we're all fucked up, and you know it."

"You're fucked up, Frank, if you ever even considered the possibility that Gerard Way was a good person, that is." 

And with that, Frank slammed the door behind them, only to find himself almost falling into Bert McCracken.

"Frank? Fuck, Frank- look, I need-" Bert began, his words stuttered and rushed: all too much and not enough, and all at once, yet Frank was utterly disinterested: his head spinning like crazy and just about ready to punch anyone in the face who even considered opposing him.

He just needed out of here, he just needed somewhere, something, someone to make this all fade away, and it took him far too much to forget that in situations such as these, it was getting fucked by Gerard that usually did the trick, but this time, Frank wasn't getting fucked, he was just getting fucked over, because Gerard Way was nothing more than the bane of his fucking existence.

"It's not a good time, Bert, really not a good time." Frank stopped for a moment, glancing towards Bob's house behind him and then at Bert and came to the conclusion, that perhaps, just maybe, this could possibly just be something important. "What?"

"I had a vision, like the one in which Ray... Ray died, and that came true... so... fuck-" Bert shook his head violently, almost as if in denial that he'd even had such a vision in the first place, and Frank was growing all the more intrigued by the second.

"Ray's fucking back again now, so that doesn't matter, Mikey bit him, or his 'corpse' or something and so now he's fucking vampire and why am I the only one who finds this just a bit fucked up and just a little dodgy... like ghosts just don't have corpses magically, and surely, surely it isn't just that easy to reanimate them."

"Not my area of expertise, if Bob says it's fine, then, just go with Bob, look-" Bert shrugged it off, attempting to explain the contents of his most recent vision to Frank, but soon found the nineteen year old cutting him off again.

"Bob's just kind of shrugged it off, like man, he's already stressed out as fuck with this whole treaty shit, and Mikey's so defensive and just over the moon about it that I just can't help but feel that he's too overjoyed to finally have his boyfriend back to even consider the fact that this is just a little fucking sketchy-"

"Frank- Frank, just..." Bert sighed out, grabbing Frank's hand, and in turn, his attention. "My vision, it's important, because these things don't usually tend to be wrong, and I... I saw death again, up in the graveyard and blood and violence everywhere: loud, screaming but faded, almost blurry, surreal, but incredibly clear at the same time-"

"What-" Frank began, his eyes widening just a little as the fact that Bert had seen someone die finally sank in, and as did the possibility that it could be him.

"This is hard to tell you Frank, fuck, this is unbelievably hard to tell you, but I have to, and you have to hear it, because we have to at least try to stop this, I can't, I- I care about you and-"

"Just tell me who." Frank stuttered out, his words strained and forced, almost as if he was tightrope walking for his own life, and perhaps, just perhaps he was.

"Frank- it-it's... it's Gerard."

-

Hey guys, and I'm not at all sorry, except maybe just a little, this was quite traumatic actually:') Anyway votes and comments would be lovely and remember that I love you all<3