Frank lay in bed awake at night, his mind on anything but sleep and the not quite so peaceful haunted realms it held for him, wishing for his life back in New York when nothing was ever quite as fucked up as this and right now he'd probably be out fucking some guy and making sure he was stoned enough so he couldn't remember anything in the morning.

Frank began to realise that he hated remembering everything, and that he hated that he couldn't forget his mistakes in anything other than a dodgy cigarette bummed off a guy he barely knew all due to his fucking grandparents, and boy did he want to just let them go fuck themselves and buy a packet or several dozen, but by now his grandparents had of course informed just about everyone in this fucking village of his existence, leaving him with very little chance that he get away with it, let alone anyone sold him smokes in the first place.

Man, Frank was fucked.

And not in the way he wanted to be, and as weird as it sounds, he missed it; he missed being fucked over his head at two in the morning speaking into the toilet bowl he just threw up into and seeing shapes on the wall that the pills put there, waiting for some guy to take him away from the bathroom and then fuck him until they passed out, and then Frank would wake up somewhere else, and let the cycle repeat once more - it was a cycle of unconsciousness and he never had to worry about anything, let alone his next fix or what the hell this fucking creepy dark figure was doing stalking him and haunting his nightmares at the same time.

Things like that should only happen when Frank was high, and he hadn't even touched anything for like two weeks now and was most likely going insane in the process, and perhaps right now he would have preferred the figure to be nothing but a mere hallucination, but Mikey had to see it too, and still he couldn't quite get his head around the recognition between the two, and of course just how eager the figure was to vanish as soon as Ray returned.

If he didn’t want to been seen, then Frank couldn't see how he didn't find him a problem, and how he'd been taunting him for days now and then decided to just appear casually beside Mikey and him, only to lead Frank to the conclusion that Mikey somehow knew him, and it just got worse, because Frank knew he couldn't ask Ray for answers here - there was a reason the figure disappeared at Ray's appearance, and the answer lay in no one but Mikey, the one person Frank was unsure if and when he'd see again.

Bert of course did also seem capable in the department of providing answers, but of course awfully cryptic and encouragingly uninterested in the matter, which was nothing more than irritatingly problematic, spinning Frank's head into the wrong kind of oblivion - the kind that hadn't been manufactured into powders and pills, but brought casually by one's own mind as a method of subconscious self-destruction, and really that was the last thing Frank needed right now.

Clarity was all he required, but the only kind of clarity he could find in white lines or particularly pungent smoke; both things he'd been cut off from here, along with whatever sanity he felt he had originally. Perhaps it would have been better for him just to stay back in New York, and face whatever dangers the world had for him there than to take his chances which insanity and its many warriors in deep in the village in the middle of nowhere and fog that seemed to consume the whole of reality.

Escape, and the whole outside of the village, in fact, seemed unreachable, and was not helped by the unreliable phone signal, and the fact that Alex hadn't answered his phone in days, which was both concerning and annoying, and yet despite the moonlit boredom shooting through his skull, Frank still couldn't trick himself into sleep's own grasp.

And there he lay awake for hours - awake and breathing irregularly, his thoughts racing, acting nervously in self defence mechanism he'd almost forgotten about, his brain acting on instinct, doing all in its power to focus on anything but the unexplainable shadow in the corner of the room, illuminated by a teasing streak of moonlit from a window Frank definitely had not opened.

And it was things like this that Frank wished he had the means in which to forget.

-

Come morning, of course, the shadow and all evidence that anything had been there at all was gone, but Frank knew far too well by now that this was most definitely not just a trick of the mind, or the light, or some creepy asshole, or perhaps the latter, but Frank reckoned this creepy asshole had much more sinister intentions, and of course ones he felt like the whole world knew but him.

And perhaps the only evidence of last night occurrences at all, or just the only change - the thing that made Frank's heart stop momentarily was the silver cross in his bedroom door - shattered and broken, and this was definitely not something his grandparents would ever even consider.

"Frank, are you going out again?" Came his grandmother's voice as she came to see Frank pulling his hoodie up in the hallway, pulling on his converse in an awkward leant against the door stood up position that accomplished nothing but difficultly and the eventual shame of having to sit down to successfully get the damn things on his feet. "Why do you have to wear that hood, honey? You look like such a thug."

I'll look like anything that doesn't entice creepy figures into stalking me, Frank thought, but decided it best that thought was never vocalised, especially in front of someone like his grandmother, and went with a simple, "it's cold," instead, which even the weather confirmed to be the most mediocre of lies, and really New York teenage Frank would have been embarrassed to know such a terrible lie ever left his lips.

"You're making friends then?" She continued the conversation unnecessarily, urging to Frank to get his shoes on as quickly as he could, only for the sake of an excuse to leave her and this conversation as soon as humanely possible, of course, God had other ideas.

"Mmm..." Frank nodded in recognition of her question, scrambling at his laces like his life depended on it. "Guy called Ray - works at the music shop round the alleyways."

"Oh... him..." Her voice trailed off, her gaze disappearing as it hit the floor, leaving Frank in confusion at first, only for the gay rumours to resurface in his subconscious, and that was enough for him to piece things together, and oh god if she thought he was dating Ray, that would really make things uncomfortable, and he wasn't even dating him - Mikey seemed to be occupying that position.

"Yeah, he's my friend." Frank added an extra stress to the last word, enough for it to be noticeable, but not enough for it to be thoroughly questioned, grinning in utter delight as he finally pulled his other shoe on. "And I need to go now, bye."

"Take care. Frank, okay?" The sincerity in his voice made him stop for a moment, passing an odd look in his grandmother's direction, almost as if she knew something he didn't.

-

Frank now headed straight to the music store without question, of course having no place else to go in a town such as this one, the graveyard of course being the old place that held any vague interest, but from his continuing encounters with this figure, Frank reckoned that if he valued both his life and his sanity, the graveyard wasn't the best place to go.

Who knows? Maybe the gate was even locked for a reason - nah, Frank couldn't think of anything plausible to the God worshipping residents of this village. Somehow weird dark figure stalking them and fucking with their head, didn't quite seem like it would make any sense to anybody else at all. Perhaps Frank should see someone about this, but he'd rather not spend the rest of his days in a mental hospital.

And he guessed for there forth the figure was something he'd have to deal with, and eventually confront by himself. Anyway, it couldn't be all that bad, as the figure had already made it very clear that he had no intentions in the matter of killing or harming Frank, but that didn't settle Frank's stomach, not at all, because if its intentions were not to kill him, then of course they had to be something all the more terrible and sinister - something Frank dare not even let pass his mind.

"Hey," Frank added with the chime of the bell as he stepped foot inside the shop, coming to the assumption that by this point Ray wouldn't really mind if he was here more for the human company than the stock - after all, Ray had pretty much complained about the lack of company, hadn't he?

And that certainly didn't explain the guy stood beside him with blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a questionable beard, that aged him significantly, which Frank guessed worked in his favour as he donned what could be described as a 'baby face' otherwise. He also reckoned the spliff he was smoking destroyed the whole persona of innocence entirely.

"Oh hey Frank, this is Bob." Ray's eyes widened a little as Frank walked in, not really expecting the company, but putting manners first and introducing the two nonetheless, however Frank did hear a single word Ray said, his addictions pumping through his blood, focusing on none other than the spliff casually held in Bob's hand.

"Hey, Frank." Bob mumbled, his tone certainly unenthusiastic, and his eyes pulling themselves over Frank in what seemed to be a monotonous and instinctual reaction. "We're busy, as you can see, and privacy is necessary right now."

"Fuck man, I'm not leaving when you're smoking weed right here - I haven't had any for weeks and dear god, I'm going fucking insane!" Bob's 'professional' expression broke into a chuckle at that, almost treating Frank like a little kid, intrigued by him, but little kids didn't usually curse and demand marijuana from people they've just met.

"Then take my spliff outside - I'll make this brief, more the sake of the weed than your impatience, but whatever." Frank's face practically exploded into a smile as Bob handed him the object of his eternal cravings, Frank obediently rushing outside to smoke it without caution outside the shop, his back pressed against the glass window and visible to the both of them.

"How the hell do you even know that guy?" Bob asked, his tone casual at Frank's absence, his eyebrows raising in Ray's direction, causing his curly haired friend to shrug in response.

"He likes The Misfits. I barely know him, he just turned up here the other day, and he's alright, I guess." Ray offered up his explanation, his eyes focused on Frank outside. "Why do you even smoke that stuff, Bob?"

"With a job like mine, you need to." And with the stake in Bob's coat pocket, and silver cross in the other, he told no lie.

"How high is he going to be when we're done?" Ray couldn't help but ask, with less concern for Frank, and more for how much he'd hate dealing with him later.

"Depends how long we take." Bob answered with a mildly amused smirk.

"I think it's best we make this quick then." Ray spoke both their thoughts aloud, turning away from Frank, and focusing on Bob. "You sure you can stop this 'creature' coming back?"

"Well, I just need to line the building with silver and it won't be able to cross the threshold - he'll stand outside creepily though, so I would recommend you invest in curtains also." Bob added with a small smile, passing concerned glances outside and in Frank's direction.

"I can manage curtains, yeah, but how much is that silver going to cost?" 

"A lot, but that thing outside might as well cost you your life, so I know which decision I'd make, Toro." Bob pulled on his coat from where he'd left it on the counter. "I'll be back later, when that idiot outside's gone. And if you have my money I'll have you protected before sundown, which judging by that creature's interest - I reckon you'll need."

-

Frank sat sprawled out on the shop floor, his knees pulled up to his chest and laughter echoing in his chest in random outbursts, causing Ray to pass him the odd look of concern from the other side of the shop every so often.

The afro donning shop owner, largely considered kicking him out, and leaving the stoned nineteen year old to sort this mess out by himself, but it seemed compassion always got the better of him, and perhaps he just found himself rather gratefully of the company, even if it hadn't moved in over forty minutes and could barely even form a logical sentence.

"I reckon I could totally die, you know?" Frank projected his thoughts aloud more than conversing with Ray from across the room, his words and gaze settled on the shop door in front of him in manner sure to creep out anyone that considered walking in, which made Ray, for once, nothing but thankful that business wasn't exactly booming.

"Mhmm..." Ray nodded almost as if talking to a small child - a state to which the weed had reduced Frank to, leaving Ray to curse Bob for ever letting Frank inhale any in the first place, and how it barely seemed to affect Bob all the much, was doing nothing but adding to the headache plaguing the shopkeeper's mind. "We all could - that's life, I guess."

"Do you know what? I totally got laid in high school, and you know people wouldn't think someone like me would have, which is quite offensive, but you know, I did, and... That’s something to be proud of - I should've put that under my yearbook photo."

Ray reckoned that perhaps this was the kind of thing Frank really shouldn't be saying aloud, but now he had, nothing was stopping him breaking into a smile, and of course instantly feeling terribly guilty about it in consequence.

"I doubt they would have let you."

"That's really quite mean, actually." Frank sighed, shaking his head as if he was a senior citizen ranting about 'youths these days' and not the fact that he didn't shout about the fact he got laid in his senior yearbook.

"Frank, what time are you planning on leaving? Cause, y'know Bob-" Ray could barely finish his sentence before Frank found the compulsion to answer - at least he was answering, instead of ignoring the question completely though.

"Nine in the afternoon." Frank proclaimed as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

"Frank-"

"Alright, I'm going - you know no one wants to know about your affair with Bob, it's fine, I won't tell Mikey, but can I tell Mikey that he looks a bit like a spider, because he does." Ray was of course nothing but silent at that - what was there to say? "I don't like spiders. I like Mikey though. I don't like the weird dude that came into the shop when you were gone though - Mikey knew him. I don't think Mikey liked him either."

"Fra-"

"Yes I'm going." Frank rolled his eyes tutting like a mother of six as he made the action of walking out of the door into some sort of theatrical number, which would have of cause brought Ray great amusement, had Frank not let something slip that he perhaps shouldn't.

And as soon as he walked out of the shop, or had been on his feet for more than a minute, all Frank could remember was a rather pungent smell of cigarette smoke and a maze of alleyways before he woke up the next morning in somebody else's bed, and pretended he was back in New York again.

-

The bed he woke up in smelt of cigarette smoke, also - the smell seeming to follow Frank like a beautiful curse of nicotine addiction. Frank cared very little for how he'd got here, but more so for the owner of the bed and just where they kept their advil because this headache was killing him, and the struggle to remember anything after the bearded guy and his spliff wasn't helping the matter.

"Bert?" A wave of confusion washed over Frank as he stumbled into, what the fridge told him was, the kitchen, finding none other than his friendly local cigarette Jesus sat at the table. "First things first - where is your fucking advil, and then tell me how the hell I ended up here and how much I'm going to regret it. Please tell me we used a condom." Frank winced at that, at least he was doubtful of the fact that Bert could carry a foetus, but then again, he was Jesus, he probably could if he wished to.

"Frank, we didn't fuck, dude." Bert shook his head, almost laughing at the notion, which of course did nothing but wonders for Frank's self-confidence.

"I woke up in your bed?" Frank passed him a confused expression, taking two tablets from Bert's hand and swallowing them dry because Frank really did not fucking care.

"You were passed out near the park and I took you back here, I guess you were pretty high from the fact you just slept for sixteen hours." Bert commented all too casually, despite the fireworks going off in Frank's head, because his grandparents had probably called out for a SWAT team by now.

"Oh fuck, my grandparents are actually going to kill me-"

"Oh, no, they called your mobile and I told them that you were crashing at mine - mind you they didn't seem pretty pleased about it, but," Bert shrugged in replacement of actual words, a lopsided smile passing over his lips.

"Basically now my grandparents think you fucked me last night." Frank rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he wondered how the hell he was going to possibly get out of this one. Noting the look of confusion on Bert's face, Frank found it beneficial to elaborate, "I'm pretty sure they think I'm gay after I told them I was friends with Ray, but he totally has a boyfriend anyway."

"That'll all blow over as soon as you get a girlfriend, though - don't worry. They'll want to forget that kind of shit as soon as possible." Bert added in reassurance, Frank however, simply shook his head, a mildly amused smile taking to his lips.

"Oh, but I actually am gay."

"Good luck with that then." Bert shook his head with laughter, and Frank wasn't nearly as offended as Alex would reckon he should be, but then again Frank wasn't Alex - if Frank was Alex, there wouldn't have been a chance that Bert and him hadn't had sex last night - heterosexuality or not.

"Yeah, I should probably go apologise to Ray." Frank added, blushing a little at the memories of yesterday pushing through the mental block that probably was there for a good enough reason. Bert raised his eyebrows at this statement, getting of course entirely the wrong impression. "I'm pretty sure I told him his boyfriend looked like a spider."

"Who is Ray's boyfriend? I was certain he was the only cocksucker in this town... I mean we have suckers of a far different variety, but-" And Bert didn't even have time to elaborate into degrees that Frank would find himself the need to question, before he found himself cringing at probably the most awkward insult/nickname Bert could have concocted.

"Cocksucker, really?" Frank shook his head with an awkward grimace, Bert shrugging in response, taking another sip of his coffee in a state of indifference to Frank's complaints. "His boyfriend's called Mikey - looks a bit like a spider."

"Mikey... Way?" Bert stopped at that, his coffee mug hitting the table as his gaze darted upwards instantly.

"I don't know his surname." Frank shrugged, passing an odd look at the expression he was met with. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"Doesn't matter." Bert shrugged, biting his lip nervously as he spoke in a manner that Frank just couldn't ignore. "Go apologise to Ray."

Frank shook off the curiosity, heading towards the door, his hand making its way into his jeans pocket in search of his headphones, of course only to reap no results. "Hey, you didn't take my headphones, did you?"

Bert shook his head, raising one eyebrow as he scanned Frank up and down; just a little offended but also a little flattered that Frank had thought him capable of such theft. "Nope. They probably fell out your pocket when you passed out or something."

"Yeah, I'll go look later, whatever - I'll probably just get some new ones. Thanks for letting me pass out on your bed, I guess." Frank added with an awkward smile and a really horrible granny style wave as he opened Bert's front door.

"No problem."

"Feels like I'm back in New York like this, man."

"Oh don't worry, you won't for long."

-

And of course, Bert was far too right, as it took nothing but barely fifteen minutes for that all too familiar stomach clenching feeling of dread to inhabit Frank's body once more, as he made his way to Ray's shop, stumbling upon an all too familiar pair of headphones on the floor of an alleyway.

An all too familiar pair of headphones that must have dropped from his pocket as he passed out.

Leaving goose bumps on Frank's neck as he tried to convince himself he misheard Bert when he said he found Frank in the park, but he couldn't, and this was something he just couldn't recall.

And perhaps when he'd wished he could just forget everything that happened to him, Frank hadn't ever been more wrong.

-

Hey guys:) You know you should always fucking save your writing because I lost 1000 fucking words here and that wasn't all the most fun to rewrite, but I guess it was kinda for the best, because I rewrote it differently and I think I like this version of events better, oh well, lesson learned-.- Anyways, you should definitely grace me with your lovely comments and votes because I am now rather tired and slightly pissed off;) I love you all, as always<3