"Come on, Frankie, honey." Gerard's words left his lips in a manner that was nothing but purposefully husky, and there was really no mistaking that, because even if Frank wasn't flirting with Gerard, Gerard most certainly was flirting with him.

Frank froze at the pale hand outstretched in the shadows and the grin across the guy who said he consumed human blood's face. Frank was certain he was joking, because the alternative was just down right ridiculous, but there certainly was something off about him, no denying that.

"What do you mean? Where? What's going on? I barely just met you, Gerard." Frank reminded him, but despite the nineteen year old's persistent attempts at breaking through, Gerard was adamant in his wishes and grabbed Frank's hand himself, interlocking their fingers and Frank almost shitting himself at just how fucking cold Gerard's hands were.

"Cold." Was all he managed to choke out at first, still a little intimidated by the totally not attractive guy in a trench coat insisting on holding his hand. "Your hand's so cold."

"I'm sure you'll warm me up, honey." He was flirting now, if he wasn't already, which he really was, but there was no escaping the suggestive connotations of his words now, and perhaps Frank wasn't even all that sure that he really wanted to.

"What do you mean by that?" Frank asked a question, and dreaded what he already knew to be the answer, his eyes fixated upon the hazel, glowing golden ones of the trench coat donning man before him.

"I mean that you're going to follow me and respect the fact that I know what I'm doing here." His eyes almost seemed to glow, and give off a light of their own at that point, his words drifting out slowly in a manner Frank was at first confused by, but soon obliged with Gerard's request, stupidity in full flow, letting the guy he barely knew lead him through darkened alleyways that he knew he never could make his way back out of again in the trust of the fact that the guy was kind of hot.

But so very cold, and that really was fucking with frank's head in a manner that was of course entirely nothing but intentional.

The darkness around them seemed to come into a blur as Gerard led Frank through the alleyways, almost as if he was moving at a impossibly fast speed, and it seemed like only mere seconds had elapsed before the two of them stood outside a little house hidden away amongst many others, inconspicuous, but seemingly abandoned as the ivy, crawling over the brickwork, declared the house its own.

Frank even began to wonder if what Gerard was about to do here was illegal, but he soon reminded himself of just how illegal everyday of his life back in New York had been, and how this fucking town had brought drastic change to that, and perhaps, just perhaps, Frank was missing that whirlwind lifestyle just enough to let his stupidity get the better of him and follow Gerard inside.

Surely, he managed to open the door, so perhaps he did own this place, or perhaps the door was just unlocked, but by now Frank didn't care, and was perhaps so under the spell of trench coat boy, he'd probably follow him off a cliff.

That, if you hadn't noticed, was a bad thing.

Bad things seemed to be magnetically attracted to Frank Iero sometimes, he was like a human magnet of negativity, or just fucked up things.

"Make yourself at home, Frankie." He let a grin pass over his lips, almost mock bowing to Frank as he welcomed him into the house they were breaking and entering into, but that was long past Frank's mind by now.

"This isn't your home, Gerard." Frank rolled his eyes, sitting down on the sofa, crossed legs, pissed off expression, and only doing so since he was certain that this place was abandoned - really, he'd gone all soft and common sensical, perhaps he needed some of this excitement, and perhaps a bit of Gerard, weird ass, trench coat boy, was all he needed right now.

"Who says?" He countered, a smirk tipping over his lips as he fell back onto the sofa opposite, legs and arms spread out across the tattered old thing like some kind of human spider, his face now fully visible as his mop of black hair fell back from his almost worryingly pale face.

Frank only scowled, perhaps just a little pissed off about how attractive this asshole was, and less concerned with the concept of breaking and entering, but he reckoned it made a good enough cover for the emotions he couldn't.

"Why so sour, Frankie?" Gerard teased, running one hand back through his hair in an almost diva like fashion, and really he was acting like one. "What have you got stuck up your ass?" It was teasing, suggestive teasing perhaps, but there was no denial in Frank's blush, especially the contrast it had against the whitewashed walls of the abandoned abode and the stone pale complexion that never fluctuated upon Gerard's face.

"Nothing." Frank muttered in response; very sour indeed, and vaguely contemplating the fact that he hadn't had anything anywhere near his ass, or anyone else's ever since he left New York, and he was almost disappointed in himself, but then again, it wasn't like the one night stand scene was booming here; the town consisted of homophobic church go-ers, sixty year old women, and Ray Toro and his boyfriend that resembled a spider in a terribly awkward manner.

"Ah, I can fix that, don't worry." And the asshole was enjoying this - messing with him, messing with his mind and messing with his emotions - fucking with him.

"Ger-" Frank began, not even sure as to how he would get annoyingly attractive trench coat boy to shut up, but he was going to try at the very least, for sure.

"Come on, baby boy, come on." Gerard winked at him, standing up, trench coat fawning out behind him as he strutted over to Frank, standing before him and running one hand messily through Frank's hair. 

"You're not being serious." And what Frank had intended as a statement, came out an awful lot like a question, because as what Frank intended to be no feelings he felt for the asshole that called himself Gerard, turned into 'oh fuck me, trench coat boy', and Gerard knew, and he knew this all too well.

Gerard only smirked, leaving it a guessing game.

Let's say trench coat boy just loved playing with his food.

-

"If you say that he's perfectly fine one more fucking time, Ray Toro, I will not hesitate to drain all the blood from you." Mikey's voice came out perhaps too harsh, but centred over his concern for Frank’s wellbeing than a finicky nature regarding his boyfriend's hurt feelings.

"Sorry." Mikey shook his head at what he'd just said - too far, he knew that just too well. "Just let me be worried, because by now, there really is something to be worried about, and maybe I'm just too caught up in the worry of what Gerard said to him, but you know what it's like here - these things happen, and Frank... Frank doesn't know anything at all..."

"I just wanted to protect him... I mean his parents died, he doesn't need anything else to worry about - he's clearly messed up enough as it is!" Ray argued his case, not entirely angry with his boyfriend, but irritable, perhaps.

"He's going to find out at this rate, regardless of what you want, Ray." Mikey shook his head at the situation before them, and the possibilities that it could spawn. "Gerard just didn't have to be the way he did."

"So what do we do, Mikey? Seeing as you seem to know everything?" The curly haired of the two rolled his eyes, grabbing his jacket from the table and pulling it on, his eyes never leaving the gaze of his boyfriend's; highlighting the tension between them. 

"Well, we go out and fucking find him and we stop whatever shit that asshole has pulled." Mikey muttered his words between hot-headed breaths born in sarcasm and tempers broken. "Or would the two of us revealing our connection to that asshole possibly be bad for the innocence you believe in with that Frank kid?"

"I just don't want to mess him up further, he doesn't need to-"

"Ray, I'm sorry, but you're being an idiot here, when he was in New York, he did drugs, got drunk, had a fuck, smoked something, and gave a blowjob to a stranger like they were his five a day, so really if you think his innocence is something you need to be concerned for here, then I'm sorry to inform you that ship sunk long ago."

"He doesn't need to worry about what those things do though, he's only here temporarily, I gathered, so-" Ray's words were cut off by the shear expression upon Mikey's pale face, and those eyes - burning up in an unnatural yellow light that he knew of and feared all too well.

"Things?" He launched his words like a hand grenade and they landed like a nuclear bomb - the impact bringing a chill in the air, and for once Ray hadn't Frank around to allow himself to mutter something about the thermostat in the belief of comforting the kid, but doing it more for himself than anything. "Nice to know what you think of me, huh?"

"No- Mikey, please, I'm sorry, you're not like him, you're not like them-" Ray's pleads were rendered nothing but useless when Mikey was in this state, and he knew this, he just wasn't quite willingly to accept it, not on his conscience's terms at the very least.

"He's, he's my brother, Ray, of course I'm fucking like him, we have the same mother, we grew up together, and oh, don't fucking worry, I'm just the same as the rest of them - a heartless, cold, bloodthirsty, vampire." He stepped forward at that moment, the distance between him and Ray falling into nothing as the owner of the beating heart tried his best to hide the fear inside of him - he'd just never been scared of Mikey before, not like this, not at all.

"You need to get your head out of dreamland, Toro, you know what it's like here, and you're being pathetic with this whole thing. Especially with this 'lying to Frank to protect him' thing, because I can see what's really happening here - you're lying to yourself here, because as much as you tell me you do, you don't expect me for who I am, you accept me for who you see and ignore the rest, and that's not something I can deal with, because you don't just get the Mikey who you sneak into your record store at night and kiss and fuck, and pretend that you're some stupid lovestruck teenager again and that nothing else matters, no."

Mikey paused, perhaps considering the fact that he had gone too far with this, but dismissing the very thought all too soon as he reached the simple realisation that perhaps he just didn't care.

"No, Ray, you get me, you get all of me: you get the vampire, you get my struggles with the species I belong to and how I hate what they do, yet I still am one, and you get the fact that I need blood to survive, and you get the fact you're not like me at all - you're human, and there's no way around that, and you get, what you really get is me worrying realistically about our friend and what my brother will not hesitate to do to him."

Ray greeted his words with nothing but silence and the struggle to breathe as he found himself unable to stop holding his breath.

"Because there are differences between Gerard and I, of course there are; there are differences between you and I, and certainly not in abundance, that's clear, but we're still brothers, and we're still the same species. I'm not fucking special, I'm not different, I'm not your special 'nice' vampire - this isn't fucking Twilight, Ray. But the one major difference, the important difference right now is that I wouldn't lay a finger on Frank, whereas Gerard is set intent upon draining him dry."

"I'm sorry, Mikey, I-" 

"I don't fucking care right now, Ray. Frank's life is probably more important right now, don't you think? Funny how that comes from me, the one of us without a beating heart, huh? Shallow, Ray, shallow." Spite trickled from his words like blood from a gushing wound, a puncture to the neck, perhaps. "What I do want though, is some sort of apology, some sort of explanation when I get back-"

"I told I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean to say something like that, Mikey, things just slip out - you know that!"

"Not for me. For Frank, and whatever blood my brother hasn't drained out of him yet."

And with that Mikey was gone, leaving Ray to sit there in the cold chill he'd left behind, and he didn't even glance at the thermostat, not even once, because Mikey was right - he was so scared, but everyday, it seemed the world gave him just another reason to be.

-

And it was all eyes upon each other: hot and heavy, and breaths held on Frank's part, and empty, unused shells of what were once lungs, which laid shrivelled up and decayed inside Gerard's body. Not a word had been spoken since, and the time seemed to pass in such a great amount that the dust which coated the rest of the house seemed to fall upon Gerard and Frank too; it ensuring that they remained there, frozen in time for entirety, eyes never leaving one another's, because, somehow, somewhere, it felt like that was something meant to be.

And Gerard knew it as soon as the met one another's gaze, and he even considered leaving the boy alone, but he was arrogant enough to not stop in his wishes for anyone, especially not the whimsical whispers of a liar by the name of fate.

"If you're going to stare like that, pretty boy." Gerard made his decision as to where he stood, and knew very well that the only team he was supporting was his own - other people and their wishes and needs, they were simply none of his business. "Then you may as well follow through with what's going through that pretty little head of yours."

"Don't call me 'pretty boy'." Frank's response was sudden, forceful, and all but expected in the calibre with which his words were annunciated; accidents were out of the question here and the look piercing through Gerard's pale skin was proof of that. "Don't fucking call me that, okay?" 

He stepped forward to the boy clad in a trench coat, ignoring the head of height he had over Frank, he met his eyes and summoned all his powers in looking intimidating, as few as they may be, they were most certainly needed in whatever numbers they possessed.

"What do you want me to call you then?" He spat back, a smirk gracing his lips, making it clear that he thought nothing of Frank’s response, intimidation, or perhaps his lack of it, aside. "Would 'whore' be more appropriate? It certainly fits that look in your eyes when you look at me, for sure."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Frank countered, diminishing the distance between him and the man he knew not to be Mikey's older brother even further, which although he was oblivious to at the time, was most certainly a terrible decision. "I look at you like I hate you, which right now, you know what? I'm pretty certain I fucking do - you're an asshole, Gerard. And if anyone's the whore, here, it's you."

"Hate. Hate." He ran the word over his tongue as if to give it a test run, the affects it brought out almost amusing him in a certain manner. "Hate's a funny little word, don't you think? It has many meanings, and jealous is intertwined more often that not, so I have reason to think that you don't hate me, you just hate how good I look in this shirt."

Frank could only contort his face into what resembled a disappointed scowl, bringing more of a 'what the fuck' expression upon his face that he was yet too confused to probably express: kind of similar to expression you would pull when your maths teacher puts the words 'fun' and 'homework' in the same sentence.

"So, then, only because I reckon you're pretty, I think I'll do you a favour, Frank Iero." The nineteen year old could only flinch at the word 'pretty', continuing to scowl at the trench coat clad asshole before him, as he came to consider just what he'd done to deserve his parents dying and leaving him in such a shitty little asshole breeding ground of a town. "I'll lose and perhaps you can lose your hatred and jealousy, huh?"

And Frank watched, stunned into silence as the guy, pulled off his trench coat, throwing it to the floor, followed by his shirt, discarding it in a similar procedure, and now, Frank really could not help but stare, and justified such an action with the fact that he was gay, and Gerard was now a shirtless man, despite being an asshole, but he was just such an asshole.

"So, what? Is this just about fucking me?" Frank asked, raised eyebrows posed an accompaniment, but acted more as a defence mechanism, to his words. His voice shook, however, highlighting the anxiety with which such a question was strung and he hated how there'd be no hesitation in Gerard recognising such a thing, especially when it brought him such amusement as it would.

"Vaguely, yes, overall, no." He met Frank with crypticism and a look worthy of a punch to the face, but Frank stopped himself as Gerard stepped closer, the distance between rendered non-existent, the taller of the two, pushing his forehead against Frank's, stooping a little to meet the nineteen year old's confused, and slightly wary gaze. "To put in a way that you would understand. Fucking you? Short term plan, yes, long term, most definitely not."

"I would understand?" Frank spat back, attempting to pull away from Gerard's grasp, only for the taller of the two to notice this and push Frank back against the wall, the house creaking in response, almost as if proclaiming the fact that it was old and most likely would break if they continued, but right now, neither Gerard nor Frank were listening. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"You catch on slow, Iero. It's not hard to see at all." Gerard responded, his words pushed against Frank in a similar manner with which the nineteen year old found himself pinned to the wall by a guy he hated, feared, and was horribly attracted to.

It seemed right now, though, that the latter definitely outweighed everything else by far.

"What about? The fact you want me, the fact you just can't live without having me, you want me against your sheets and you want me to scream out your name, because dear Gerard, you need me. So, honestly, if you want any of that, you better be good." 

Frank's words left an impact to say the least, and most significantly upon Gerard's ego: no one had ever stood up to him before like that, and he wasn't quite so sure he liked it, but to hear Frank talk to him like that, the content of his words were rendered rather irrelevant entirely.

"Don't tell me what to do, Iero. I'm in charge, here."

"Is that so?" Frank let a chuckle slip his lips, ignoring the fact he was currently pinned against the wall of a house they had trespassed into.

"Says the guy I've pinned against a fucking wall." Gerard rolled his eyes, a smirk toying at his lips as he continued. "Come try take me down like this, pretty boy."

And that was all it took for Frank to discard the pissed off outlook he held regarding the situation for one of true passion and anger intertwined. "I told you not to call me that!"

Gerard, however, let arrogance get the better of him and thought it better to silence the boy in his protests with pushing his lips upon Frank's, taking charge immediately and ignoring the nineteen year old's lack of response.

Frank was frozen; his heart beating a thousand times a minute and his respiration slow and rendered almost unresponsive just by a pair of so incredibly cold lips pressed against his. He just didn't know how to react- well, he did, he just couldn't: he wouldn't allow himself to, because the only viable option in Frank's mind was to kiss Gerard back.

Yet, he never quite got to give into such an option as a bang and footsteps at the threshold of the house signalled that they were in fact not alone.

-

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