Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I had never given much thought to how I would die.

Wait. Scratch that, I absolutely had.

Sorry, that's probably not what you were expecting? Hang on, let me get back to the source material.

Just a little…

I had given plenty of thought to how I would die. I had entertained the errant thought of car crashes while dad drove too fast down the Garden State Parkway, tripping in front of a New York subway, the school bus exploding and hopefully taking all the nasty bullies with me. When said bullies got too good at their lunch hour harassment, I even started considering just how well I could take fate into my own hands. Don't worry, that didn’t last too long.

When dad bought me my first guitar for Christmas, the contemplations of my mortality shifted again. I began to imagine death in crazy epic ways: what if I perished in a plane crash while traveling the world with a band - MY band. What if I snapped my neck trying to backflip off an amp, falling from the rafters over a stage, stabbed by a maniac fan after a show. A good therapist would probably have sat for a while with me talking about why I had a dozen death scenarios for every day and even my dream life, would probably chalk it up to something to do with my parents divorce and getting bullied for being gay and who knows what else. But I didn't have time for that shit. Those newer depressing fantasies required just one thing: for me to be in a band. Somehow I needed to be in a band.

I wasn’t.

Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t the famed guitarist of an internationally known band, preparing to fly out for my next global tour.

I was in an airport with a guitar, though. Small victories.

“Alright, you’ve got everything, yes?” My dad gave me a firm clap on the shoulder and stared down over my five foot nothing glory at my two duffle bags. I wasn't sure if the guitar headstock sitting a foot above my head from its place strapped on my back made me look taller or not...

“Yup,” I said, popping the ‘p’.

“Good, good…” and my father went into his usual laundry list of checking that I had my ticket, knew my gate number, knew to call him once I landed, yada yada.

“Alrght. Time to go. Give my best to Linda,” he finished, looking awkwardly caught between hugging me and running from any sign of physical affection.

“You mean mom?” I jabbed lightly. He rolled his eyes at me. Dad hadn't called her “mom” in years.

“Yes, smart alec.”

With a last laugh and a decidedly uncomfortable one armed hug that was blessedly interrupted by my stepmom hollering goodbye at me from the car, I headed into the airport.

Good-bye, New Jersey…

Hello, Forks.

~

The unmistakable sight of police cruiser greeted me at the airport and - yup, there was my mother.

Linda Iero - Chief Iero, of the Forks Police Department - pulled around the car loop at arrivals, a grin splitting her face.

“Frankie!”

I couldn’t help but smile. Sure, I missed New Jersey, but I loved my mom. My stepmother deciding to go abroad for a year and taking my dad with her wasn’t so bad when it meant living with this woman again.

“Hi, mama,” I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as she hustled around to the trunk to help me load my stuff in.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, I missed you!” Mom began to smother my face with kisses as I buckled in to the passenger seat. The loving suffocation did last too long before the airport traffic control began shooing us.

“Okay, mama, we gotta move -”

“I know, I know, I’m going!”

As we drove on, i watched the skyline of Seattle fade behind us, the world becoming less concrete and more green. The car ride passed in mostly companionable silence, with scattered comments about how my flight was, what song I was listening to on my iPod, how was dad, was I excited for school.

My gut tightened at that one. “Yeah,” I choked out with a humorless laugh, “I’m a junior starting in the middle of the semester at a school where everyone has probably known each other since kindergarten.”

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Frankie. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see these are really nice kids, I've known most of them and their families forever.” she consoled.

"Not helping my argument that I'm a freaky outsider," i half joked.

"Oh, c'mon! You know what i mean," she laughed. I hummed noncommittally and continued staring out the window at the towering trees passing by.

“There’s even some very nice boys…”

“Mom...”

“What? I know you told me over the phone last year, and - and I just want you to know how proud I am of you, ok son? And I know you didn't have it so easy back in Belleville, but it's different here -” oh God, this again, ok don't get emotional Frank, don't, she's just being a good mom “- and i’m sure you’re going to have a handsome fella on your arm in no time -” oh boy, ok cue embarassment, it's fine, she’s just being supportive, but if she tries to set me up I swear “- and there’s quite a few openly gay boys at the school, I know for a fact and -” AND WE’RE DONE NOW.

“Mom. Please. I love you, really, I do, but stop talking.” There was a moment's silence before we both dissolved into giggles. My mom, it seemed, had known I was gay before I did. She had always been my biggest supporter and I knew I was lucky. But like every mom, she couldn’t wait for her son to find someone nice to bring home and was always up in my business about whether I had met anyone.

“I just want you to be happy here, dear,” she said at last. I nodded and forced a smile, even though I knew it would be hard to feel at home anywhere that wasn’t New Jersey. Despite everything, I loved that stupid little town, bullies and all. Finding new friends or even a boyfriend wasn’t going to change that but I would have to try, if only to keep mom smiling. The fact that I loved her and was excited to stay with her for the next year and a half would have to be enough.

Forks, Washington was everything I had expected: cold, rainy, small. Not all that different from Belleville.

Except it was.

There was none of the grit and grime that layered the streets of Belleville, New Jersey. Where my hometown was small and gray, it was loud and brash, car horns and shouting neighbors everywhere. Forks was gray from ever present cold mist, not car fumes and cigarette smoke, the only sound the wind in the pines. There were no old warehouses or crumbling buildings in Forks, just quaint homes and towering evergreens. It was peaceful. It was strange.

I wondered if I would be too loud.

I wondered what the local opinion of me would be. My guess was, no one in Forks wanted to start a band…

“How’s your guitar playing by the way?” I swore mom could read my mind sometimes.

“Good! I think I’m getting better. Learned some new songs since you last saw me,” I said. Mom smiled at my evident excitement; she had always encouraged my love of music.

“Yeah? You’ll have to play them for me. Maybe you can play at school? You always used to talk about starting a band, i remember you at age ten on your bed with that little plastic guitar, pretending you were playing on a stage -”

“Mom!”

“- and you were so cute! You know I think I have videos from back then, I should go find those -”

“Did you wake up today and just go ‘hm, how much can i embarrass my son before we even make it home?’”

“Oh, you know I love you Frankie,” she said and there was an underlying tone of complete genuine affection.

“Yeah, I love you too, mom.”

My bedroom was familiar from summer and Christmas breaks when i was younger; same blue walls and window overlooking the driveway, a corkboard on the wall with old pictures of me making snowmen with mom and playing with the infamous toy guitar. The bed new, larger, a full size now as opposed to the little twin I used to sleep in when I visited. The baseball patterned sheets had been replaced by simple black ones. A desk had been set up in the corner next to the window, filled with school supplies.

I popped my headphones in and unzipped my duffles. As I began to unpack my bags and set up my guitar stand in the corner, rain began to spatter the glass. Because of course it did. This place, apparently, existed under constant cloud cover and rain.

I had gotten most of my clothes hung and in drawers before a car horn honking out front cut through the sound of the Misfits. And there, out my window was a… truck?

I paused, heading down the stairs and out the front door to see my mom chatting with -

“Oh, Frankie, there you are! You remember Mr. McGuire right?” Mom was standing next to a wheelchair bound man with salt and pepper hair and a warm smile.

“Frank! So good to have you back at last," the man said giving my hand a firm shake, "your mom’s been all kinds of excited about it, hasn’t shut up. And John, here has been talking about it too! You remember, John right?” He gestured to the teenage boy standing behind his chair.

And yes, yes I did remember ‘John’ except i always called him -

“Hambone!”

“Frankie! You look shorter,” my childhood friend snarked. I punched his arm.

“Asshole,” I laughed.

“Language, Frank,” my mom hissed but Mr. McGuire only laughed.

“Yeah, just like old times,” he said shaking his head, “shame you won't be at school together.” I raised an inquisitive brow at Hambone.

“Ah, yeah, I'm home schooled," he explained with a shrug, running a hand through his messy hair. "Mom wanted it after she and dad got married".

“Oh," I tried not to sound too dejected, "sucks, I was hoping to have a friend tomorrow." Hambone gave me a grin, this time disarmingly sweet and genuine.

“Yeah? we can make up the time outside school, don't you worry," he offered, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. Well, in my stead at school, you can at least have this bad boy!" Hambone as he thumped the obnoxiously orange truck next to us. The sound of fist on metal pulled our parents out of whatever riveting suburban bullshit conversation they were having, Mr. McGuire now smiling at me amusedly.

“Wait… what?”

“Surprise!” Mom was beaming. Did she mean…

“Is this mine?” A cheery nod.

Oh God. OhmyGod.

I had never-

Oh. My. GOD.

“FUCK YES -”

“Language Frank! Honestly -”

“I don't have to save for a car! I don't have to take the bus this is- holy- Mom, you're the best!” I could barely fit a proper sentence in my mouth before giving up and crushing her in the biggest bear hug I could. At that, she seemed to forget about scolding me.

“Well, don’t thank me, Mr. McGuire sold it to us. But it's all yours, dear,” she said, returning the embrace.

“Thank you so much,” I faced Mr. McGuire now, “I may have never driven anything larger than a Toyota Corolla but this is officially the best vehicle ever now. I love it, oh my God, just- oh my God,” I rambled as I walked around inspecting the car, followed by Hambone who was smiling at me like I was an over excited puppy. Climbing in the cab of the truck, Hambone walked me through some of the potential issues the vehicle might have, all car talk about things like transmission and other shit that might as well have been Greek to me.

"You're not getting any of this, are you?" he laughed.

"Man, I speak guitar, not car, ok?"

"Right, right, I forgot you were a musician. Still trying to start a band?" Hambone looked almost hopeful.

"Yeah, I mean, I'd love to but I'm a long way from the Jersey punk scene now.I dunno," I a grimaced, feeling another small jab of homesickness.

"Hey," Hambone put his hand back on my shoulder, solid heat against my damp shirt sleeve. "This town isn't much, but I promise you can meet some great friends here. Just have to find the right people. And you've always got me," he said with and eye crinkling smile. It was easy to return.

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks man." He clapped my should once and then returned to the vehicle.

"Alright, just so you don't break your music brain trying to understand trucks, you get a free pass to my garage if this thing ever gives you trouble. But you should e fine. It’s old, but it runs well and I did a lot of work on it so. Should be good for you. Assuming your feet reach the pedal,” he smirked.

“Two jabs at my height in less than an hour that must be a record,” I said laughing.

“What can I say? I missed you, Frankie,” he snarked, yet he smiled a genuine smile. I grinned back.

“Yeah, I missed you too.”

Chapter Text

My first day of school dawned through a dim misting rain.

Shocker.

I rolled out of bed, tearing my curtains fully apart and taking in the full glory of gray morning light. At just past six, the sun was barely fighting off the thick clouds they spat down on my windows. The glass fogged from my breath.

Great. It's gonna be cold and wet today...

I surveyed the contents of my suitcase which had been half hung, half strewn between drawers and the floor. My unpacking process had been interrupted first by Hambone and my new truck, second by mom hollering from downstairs that she'd made dinner, and finally by good old fashioned end of a travel day exhaustion which left me collapsing in bed an passing out at a stupidly early hour.

"Yeah, it's a Misfits hoodie kinda day," I mumbled, sifting through piles of teeshirts and tugging the well worn cotton over my head.

The sounds of my mom clattering bowls and the coffee maker spitting to life greeted me as I slouched down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Mornin' mama," I mumbled and she spun around, police badge already glinting on the great of her uniform shirt.

“Frankie! You’re up early, it’s only six, you could have slept another hour. The drive to school isn’t that far,” she said, glancing at the clock. And she was right. This was Forks. The drive to anywhere in this town wasn't far.

“Yeah, must be the time difference,” I said through a yawn, “i’d have been late by now back in Jersey.” She nodded and poured a second cup of caffeinated goodness, sliding it across the table to me.

“So, excited for your first day?”

“No.”

“Frank.”

“What? You always taught me to be honest! Lying is a sin, mom, do you want a liar for a son?” I said with my best I'm A Good Catholic Child face. My mother gave me a withering glare. “Ugh, fine, I'm just… nervous. Even back in Belleville it’s not like I was Mr. Popular.” Her glare melted into a look of sympathy immediately and I busied myself with pouring cereal. I didn’t want her being concerned for me all day. And honestly, maybe it would be different here. Mom had already said there were openly gay kids. Maybe things would be fine.

Maybe.

The truck was a nightmare in the best way. I felt like those blinding yellow taxi's in New York, snatching everyone's eyes as I ambled down the forest lined roads to school. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was still the only vehicle of such a garish hue, drawing plenty of attention from the rest of the early to school crowd. It felt right to announce my presence with such fanfare, a literal orange flag. Nothing says "I'm new" like a giant, sputtering, rust colored pickup that I was sure no one had ever seen before. Most everyone drove beaters or hand me downs, the lot filled with Civics and Corollas, all humble cars from old years. All with the exception of a particularly eye-catching trans am sitting in the far corner of the lot, as though it were trying to be inconspicuous with its shiny black paint job. It wasn't.

The rain began to pick up, coming in fat drops against my windshield as I tugged my backpack on. With a quick fumble of keys and a tug at my hoodie, I darted toward the school entrance. Luckily, they made things easy, placing the front office right near the entrance with a large sign, saving me from something awful like wandering like a lost idiot. Or worse, having to actually ask someone for help. Inside, the bright florescent lighting was curbed only by one of those desk lamps with the rainbow glass covers. You know, the kind that little old ladies all have and, yes, sure enough. A sweet old woman behind the front desk, beckoned me over since she already seemed to know my name, and gave me my schedule. Once again, I felt certain this town hadn't ever seen a new arrival. "Now, then Mr... Ee-ro?" "I-ee-ro." That was gonna be a recurring theme. "Your student guide will be here to help you along the way, but if there's any trouble, you can always come back here," she said, gesturing to the waiting chairs. I turned around and was greeted by the fifth member of the Beatles.

Seriously this kid’s hair was straight out of the 60s. And why was he wearing a vest and a scarf?

“You must be Frank,” he said, giving me a once over and quirking what might have been an appreciative brow. His eyes lingered on mine, then, taking in the fact that yes, I was wearing eyeliner. His lips quirked up just slightly.

Huh. Maybe there were openly gay kids at this school.

“Uh, yeah, and you are?” Cute, but not my type.

“Ryan Ross," he gave a curt nod, "I’ll be your guide to this hellscape, follow me please.” The boy turned sharply on his heel and led me out of the office.

Ryan Ross proceeded to walk me around the school (which was actually smaller than Belleville High, if that was possible) and explain various rules, events coming up (apparently there was a dance, which sounded horrifying) with all the snark of a junior who already had a serious case of senioritis. That made two of us.

“And this is your locker,” he said at last, stopping at one of the many beaten grayish blue hall lockers. This one appeared to have taken several good slams, as I fought to open it, but at least it was a top one.

“Hey! Ry! Ryaaann!”

“Oh boy…” Ryan tucked his chin down into his scarf a bit and his cheeks pinkened.

A tall brunette boy with wide brown eyes and a million watt smile bounded over to us like a giant puppy. His eyes were trained only on Ryan as his nearly vibrated with too much energy. I contemplated how much coffee he must have had because it was only 8 AM.

“Ryan, hey, Ryan, hi - good morning, how are you today, did you remember the chemistry assignment? I almost forgot but -" "Have you met the new student?" Ryan cut the boy off, looking both tired and flustered. "Oh, you’re the new kid,” the boy paused his rambled greetings abruptly and gave me another once over, though his glance was less appreciative and more calculating, “Franklin, right?”

“Frank,” I corrected.

“Yeah, yeah gotcha, I’m Brendon, this is Ryan -”

“He knows, Bren. I’m his school guide, we’ve already been hanging out all morning,” Ryan huffed, shifting his eyes toward my locker. “What’s your first class, Frank?” Ryan asked, pointedly ignoring Brendon pouting next to him.

“Uh,” I glanced at Brendon before fumbling out my schedule. “Trig.”

“Great, we have that together, let’s go,” said Ryan who grabbed my arm and started hauling me away nearly before I could slam my locker shut again.

“Um, bye, Brendon!” I called back to the dejected looking boy.

“What was that about?” I asked Ryan as he led me into the classroom.

“What?" Ryan's tone was a touch sharp. I raised my brows, glancing back down the hall where Brendon had now vanished. "Oh, Brendon? Nothing, he’s just way too hyperactive for me this early in the morning.” He adjusted his scarf and took a seat next to me.

“Uh huh,” I said flatly, thinking back to the absolute heart eyes Brendon had been giving Ryan.

Before I could get another word out, the teacher stepped up and started taking roll. Everyone muttered and gaped at me when my name was called because not only was I new, but the teacher had to have me repeat my last name four times before letting it go. Fantastic. Now alerted to my existence, several girls and a couple boys were staring at me openly and I knew what I looked like to them. I had shaggy dark hair, piercings in my ears and rips in my jeans. I was every suburban mom’s worst nightmare and the perfect suburban teen’s rebellious phase boyfriend.

Yeah, that wasn't a good enough reason to go on a date for me. And those poor girls were in for a rude awakening when they found out I had zero interest in them. Or when I stood up and they realized they could never wear heels around me.

As we moved on to my second class of the day, English, a new face approached Ryan and I in the hall; one of the boys who had eyed me in the last class.

“Hello, Spencer, what do you want?” Ryan said blandly.

“What? You’re not gonna introduce me to your new friend?” said the new boy, Spencer, before he stuck a hand in my direction. “Spencer Smith,” he said and I gave his hand a shake.

“Frank,” I replied. Spencer was still eyeing me a little.

"Nice to meet you," said Spencer, sidling ups close to me, "if Ryan's pissy bitch attitude ever gets to be too much, just let me know, I'm used to taking him down a few pegs. Right, Ry?" The boy shot Ryan a grin. Ryan flipped him off.

"God knows why we're friends," Ryan muttered and Spencer laughed, now joining us in the back of the English classroom.

The hour passed uneventfully; the teacher didn’t make nearly as big of a fuss over me, she rather just butchered my name and moved on. As the bell for lunch chimed, I found myself swept back into the hallway with Spencer and Ryan who immediately launched into complaints about the school lunches warning me what not to eat. Despite Ryan’s "pissy" attitude, which Spencer met with equal snark, they seemed to be the kind of friends who had known each other a long time.

“Jon! Hey, Jon, over here, come meet Frank!” Spencer called over to a scruffy looking brunette boy.

“Oh, hey, yeah Brendon was talking about you-”

“Brendon?” Ryan cut in immediately, glancing around as if the hyperactive boy had been summoned.

“-I’m Jon, nice to meet you,” he said, wandering into the lunch line with us. “Ry, stop freaking, Brendon is over at our usual table. Don’t get your scarf in a twist,” Jon laughed.

“I’m fine! Wait, my scarf isn’t twisted right? How's my hair?”

“Ridiculous,” Spencer muttered.

“New school, same shitty food options for vegetarians,” I complained as I loaded my plate with half wilted lettuce and a lone apple.

“You’re vegetarian?” asked Ryan.

“Yup. I like animals too much. Meat is murder.” Jon stared forlornly at his hamburger.

Sure enough, sitting at one of the many round tables was Brendon, hunched over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a book of… sheet music?

“Hey Bren whatcha working on?” Spencer asked as he took a seat by him. Jon, Ryan, and I filled in the other spots at the other side while Brendon continued staring at his music and tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. Ryan stared at his hands like they were priceless artifacts.

“New song for my lesson after school today, nothing major, just some Moza - Ryan!” His face cracked into a massive grin as he glanced up from his book. “Ryan! Hi Ryan, how was trig? How was English? What did you get for lunch today, is that pizza -”

“It was fine. I sat next to Frank,” said Ryan bluntly, his cheeks growing pinker. Brendon’s face fell slightly and he glanced at me next to him.

“Oh. So… how were your first two classes here, Frank?” Brendon smiled at me in a way that was slightly forced.

“They were good,” I said placatingly, “the teacher wants us to read A Clockwork Orange, but i’ve already read it so…”

“Oh sweet, you can totally cheat then!” Brendon exclaimed, finally perking up fully.

Lunch continued with chatter about classes and homework from everyone around the table which I tuned in and out of whilst observing the rest of Forks High’s population. It was nothing atypical. A bunch of boys in polos and girls with knock off designer bags. They were all clean and ordinary. I was pleased that the little group I had found myself in seemed to be the school’s oddballs. Or at least Ryan definitely was.

And then, they showed up.

There, walking through the cafeteria side door, were five of the most eye-catching people I had ever seen in my life. They were all dressed immaculately in clothes that were dark and expensive looking in that way that wasn’t ostentatious. Rich navy blues and midnight blacks, polished earrings and necklaces that were probably real silver, not the cheap nickel painted over, and - yep, one of them was wearing doc martens, which anyone who knew the brand knew cost a pretty penny. But their wardrobes weren't the first thing I noticed. It was their faces. They were like models but not in the usual way, more like the kinds of people I saw staring up at me from a Rolling Stone magazine.
There was a tall brunette boy, with long curls that fell to his well muscled shoulders, and an equally tall blonde on his arm. The second pair were shorter, a tan brunette whose bangs fell over his dark eyes, and a strawberry blonde with porcelain white skin holding his hand. But the fifth boy, the odd one out in their group…

“Oh, yeah, those are the Ways,” a voice next to me pulled at my attention. “Well sort of, two of them are Wentzes but they’re all Dr. Way and Mr. Way’s foster kids,” said Brendon, watching how transfixed I was on the lunchroom’s newest arrivals.

“Wait, they’re siblings?” I thought I had moved to Washington, not Alabama…

“No! Oh God, no, but I mean… well, ok they live together but they’re all adopted, i mean some of them are related, i think,” Spencer explained, tuning into our conversation.

“Ok so,” Brendon jumped in, “the really muscly, curly haired one who looks like he’s in pain? That’s Ray, his brother is the shorter brunette there, Pete Wentz. And then Mikey Way, that's the tall blonde, he’s Ray’s boyfriend, he’s… yeah, he’s weird, anyway, the short blonde over there with Pete,? That's Pete's boyfriend, Patrick, he’s Mikey’s brother, along with Gerard, the black haired one, there.”

Yeah, I had already been staring at that one… His dark eyes were sharp and calculating as they swept efficiently over the throngs of students. For some stupid reason, I couldn't bring myself to look away… Brendon noticed.

“Ah, yeah. Gerard Way… he’s gorgeous… obviously… but no one here is his type apparently. Not like I care! Obviously! I mean…'' Brendon glanced nervously over to Ryan whose eye was twitching slightly. I briefly wondered when Brendon had gotten shot down by Gerard; it was hard to imagine him having eyes for anyone other than Ryan.

“Seriously, don’t waste your time, he doesn’t date,” said Spencer as he saw me still looking. “But some of us do,” he added on under his breath.

I kept my eyes on Gerard as he had turned his attention to his siblings. He was captivating… porcelain white skin contrasted with obsidian eyes and striking black hair that fell sleek and elegant to his shoulder. I was so lost in cataloguing his features and did not register that his gaze had shifted - he was looking at me.

Fuck.

Quickly, I refixed my gaze down on my salad.

But I could feel his stare. The hair on my neck prickled and I tuned into the conversation at my own table, which had shifted to Spencer complaining about the school paper which he was in charge of.

“We need a photographer -”

“I can do it!” Jon jumped in.

“Since when do you do photography?”

“Dude, it can’t be that hard, it's a camera you just hit the button.”

“Oh my God…”

Feigning great disinterest and continuing to fork through my wilted salad, I took what I hoped was another casual glance up.

Two shining black eyes were right back on me, under a slightly furrowed brow.

They shifted a split second later.

Huh.

Chapter Text

My first class of the afternoon was biology, which I knew was bound to be awkward because all science classrooms are set up the same: those godforsaken two seat lab tables.

This left me two options: end up third wheeling some set of unsuspecting students (sadly, none of my new acquaintances had this class…) or end up alone. Truthfully, I favored the latter choice. I took a deep breath and walked to greet the teacher.

“Ah, Mr… I… ero? Did I get that?” He didn't.

“Yup. That's me.”

“Great! Now, let’s see where we can put you…”

I was going to end up dissecting frogs alone.

“Ah! Perfect!” he said after a second’s glance at the room. “Should have noticed before, the boy hasn't had a partner all year, he’s very quiet, really…”

And, oh…

Oh, no.

Apparently, the universe wanted things to be much, much worse than just having to pull out frog guts alone, no. There was one empty seat.

Next to Gerard Way.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was mildly excited about getting to sit next to the hands down hottest boy in class and all that, but my excitement was clearly not reciprocated. While everyone else in the school so far had seemed relatively excited to meet the new kid (since they hadn’t had one in ever), Gerard Way looked at me with utter disdain as I took my perch next to him. His fathomless black eyes were pinched, her lips flattened into a tight line. It was not an expression that said “welcome, nice to meet you!”

“Hello,” I tried. Because I was a masochist. Obviously.

Gerard Way gave nothing but a tense tilt of his chin before fixing his dark eyes forward.

I stared resolutely at the whiteboard and didn’t move for the rest of class.

The teacher lectured and I tried in vain to pay attention but all I could focus on were the intense glares I could feel periodically from my left. Every muscle in my body felt solidified to the spot. Shifting my eyes to the side for a second, I saw Gerard flick his eyes back to the front. His face was contorted, nose scrunched and lips tight, as though he was smelling something rank. Was Irish Spring body wash no longer acceptable for hygiene? I didn’t think I smelled…

Suddenly self conscious, I tucked my head letting my fringe flop into my eyes. The clock continued to tick at the speed of a slug.

Don’t get me wrong, I was used to being bullied. Painfully used to it. It was expected, it was normal, frankly, the welcome I had received so far was a shock (a relatively nice one, but weird nonetheless). But I wasn't lying to my mom when I said I was not Mr. Popular; I wore eyeliner, listened to bands no one had heard of, what I lacked in height I more than made up for in crude words, the list went on. Even with all that, though, I had never had someone react this way to me on a first impression. I had actually tried to be polite! Just- come on, dude. He hadn't even exchanged words with me yet. I hadn’t even uttered a full sentence.

As the lecture dragged on, I felt myself grow more uncomfortable by the minute, trying to make myself as small as possible. Every inch of me was stiff, root down, like my ass was going to fuse with the damn lab stool. Staring at the clock was depressing and I swore it actually ticked slower just to spite me. I didn’t even have next period to look forward to, it was fucking gym, not exactly a place of happiness for my short ass. Ryan had said he was in that class, though. Silver linings.

When the bell finally blessed us with its ringing, Gerard Way leapt to his feet as though every muscle in his body had been coiled to do so for the last hour. He was out the door before I could say one word, much less attempt small talk again. Staring after him, I could only muster one thought:

“What. The fuck.”

~

P.E. was torture, per usual, as i tried to hide on the sidelines with Ryan. Brendon, meanwhile, threw himself into every game with reckless enthusiasm. Ryan pretended not to watch, glaring away everytime Brendon called for his attention, smiling and waving goofily.

Now, I wasn't going to be a complete asshole and assume anyone’s sexuality. I’d only known Ryan for barely one school day and, regardless how things looked, he hadn’t said anything outright. So, I would draw it out of him. Subtly…

“So… what is your deal with Brendon?”

“Huh?” Ryan replied absently, staring at the boy in question.

“Brendon. The kid you’re currently looking at. You guys seem like you’ve been friends a while,” I said, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. Ryan’s cheeks pinkened.

“Yeah, yeah, um, I mean we’ve known each other since we were kids so…”

He wasn’t making this easy.

Time for the big play I guess…

“He’s pretty cute, I gotta say.” Those words tasted weird in my mouth. Not because I didn't believe them, just because Brendon was so clearly into Ryan - and vice versa, though the other was painfully emotionally constipated, apparently - and my type was more the tall, dark, and brooding.

Like Gerard Way, who acted like you’d slept in dog shit last period, my mind provided unhelpfully.

“Excuse me?!” Ryan spun so fast he probably gave himself whiplash, eyes shooting daggers at me. “Listen up, ok, Brendon is more than just ‘cute’, ok he is the best person at this school, he is positive and cheerful all the time and a goddamn ray of sunshine and do you know what a good friend he is? How willing he is to be there for anyone, especially the people he cares for? No, no you don't because you have only known him for less than seven hours, and that is not enough time to truly understand what a blessing he is for some people, so before you get any ideas about asking him out just- just-”

At this point, I was fairly certain Ryan was going to combust. Had I hoped to incite some form of jealousy which would lead to a confession? Yes. But oh God, that had been so much more.

“Ryan, dude, chill before you have an aneurysm, I'm not saying I wanna date Brendon-"

"Then what are you saying-"

"I’m saying he wants to date you. Or at least that’s how it looked today,” I offered, placatingly.

“WHAT?” Ryan’s entire body flailed for a second before he schooled himself, laughing tensely. “Hah, me and Brendon? A Thing? There’s no thing, how could there be a thing, i mean there would have to be… things… happening for us to be a- a… a thing. Y’know?”

Wow.

Emotionally. Constipated.

“Ryan, I'm not trying to insult your intelligence within the first twelve hours of meeting you, since I'm sure you more than likely have a brain, but that made no sense.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed further and glared into mine. And then, everything fell.

Ryan sighed so hard I felt it breeze my face.

“Sorry… I know… I mean, I guess, uh… well, it’s just… God this is hard. Ok. Just- I’ve been trying to keep things to myself-”

“By ‘things’ you mean feelings?”

“WHAT FEELINGS?”

“Ryan.”

“Right, sorry, sorry… uh, i’ve been keeping my… feelings-” he treated the word like a bullet to the chest “- to myself for so long that i don't really… I can't- I just don’t know how to talk about it…”

The boy’s face looked so red I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel any second.

“Ok, breathe, dude. Just breathe,” I said, going for a friendly pat on the shoulder. Ryan looked at my hand as though it had personally offended him. “Maybe just… don’t worry so much? Look, based on what I've seen already, Brendon looks at you like you hung the moon.”

“No he doesn't!”

“Who doesn’t what?”

Speak of the devil…

Brendon popped up behind Ryan at that moment. “Hey you guys gotta come join the game! Participate!” Ryan sucked in a long breath, nostrils flaring and eyes bugging wide, evidently going into some bizare form of oh-fuck-how-long-has-my-crush-been-standing-right-behind-me shock.

“Uh, participation on my part might result in injury to other students,” I said, trying to draw attention away from Ryan's full system shut down. “You go get back out there, though, great work, really!” I ushered Brendon back toward the game despite his imploring glances back at Ryan, who was still frozen in place when I came back over to him.

“Dude, relax your face.”

“Fuck you.”

With the day finally over, I was more than ready to go home and burrow into bed away from this gross misting rain. But, before I could retreat to the safety of the truck, I had to stop into the front office and turn in a copy of my schedule to the secretary and prove that I had in fact been added to all the rosters and everything was square.

God was clearly having a laugh at me, though, because there he was again…

“Please, there has to be another class,” came his voice, soft and higher than I had expected but still velvet smooth and imploring.

“I’m sorry, sugar, but the other classes are all full,” said the secretary.

“Physics? Chemistry? There has to be something,” he pushed.

Great. Gerard Way was trying to get out of bio after having spent the entire class treating me like hazardous waste in the seat next to him.

Fine.

Fuck you very much.

“Didn’t realize sitting within two feet of me was that bad,” I snarked not-quite-under-my-breath as I slipped up right next to the boy and slid my form across the desk to the old woman. Gerard’s body went rigid and I whipped around to speed walk straight out of the office before another word could be said. Just as I went to open the door, I heard that velvety voice swear softly before a body stalked past me, purposeful and graceful, out the door and away without so much as a glance my way.

Fine.

Totally. Fucking. Fine.

Really, it was, because this time, I wasn't the asshole. I didn’t start the fight by being a bitch, I didn't do anything, say anything, this was bullshit, really so, I made up my mind.

I would confront him the next day. I would be precise and to the point and ask what his deal was, so that we could survive the rest of the semester in bio together without this… whatever was going on.

Except-

He didn’t show up.

Chapter Text

When Tuesday dawned, gray and drizzly - still not surprised - I drove to school early and found Ryan standing next to a green Volkswagen with, you guessed it folks, Brendon. Ryan’s head was tucked, chin in his scarf, eyes looking up from under the rim of his cap at Brendon who was chatting and gesticulating wildly. I didn’t want to interrupt the two and their horrible version of flirting but as soon as Ryan spotted my orange truck, his head perked up. He twitched awkwardly toward Brendon - was that supposed to be a wave? - and walked over to my parking spot. 

“You’re here early,” he said as I climbed down out of the cab.

“Jet-lag’s still with me. Same for you, though. I’d ask why but…” I gave an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, watching Ryan’s face turn tomato colored. 

“I-I don't know what you're implying,” he denied vehemently, “I mean I, uh…” I crossed my arms, unimpressed by whatever excuse he would try to craft. Ryan relented. “Ugh ok fine, Brendon takes the bus on Tuesdays and Thursdays because his parents both work those days and the bus always gets here at 7 and… yeah.” 

“You. Are. Hopeless,” I said, shaking my head. Ryan rolled his eyes and huffed, straightening his vest under his shoulder bag strap. 

“We should go inside. Before the rain starts up again,” he rushed out before all but dragging me into the building. 

Ryan and i stood by our lockers trading out the books we needed for the day - because films lie and no one ever has time to go to their locker between classes, ever - and talked mindlessly about the book report for Mr. Hugh’s. Ryan was hoping I could help him since I had read the book already. 

“Hmm, depends, what’ll you do for me?” Ryan’s face deadpanned.

“Be your friend?” 

“Nah, gonna need to be better than that.”

“Shut up,” he gave a playful shove, “umm… I’ll help you with trig?”

Ok, I did suck at math… 

“Deal.” 

My brain was half dead throughout my first two classes but when I entered the lunchroom, my senses sharpened to full attention in the anticipation that Gerard would be there. Oh, he was in for it. I was so ready to give that unfairly hot prick a piece of my mind-

But no. His siblings entered without him in tow. He didn't show up at all in the cafeteria that hour.

It was fine, I told myself. He might have been in the library or with a teacher. 

But when I got into biology class - empty desk.

Great, I thought, now the scathing speech I had practiced during my drive to school was completely wasted. 

I resolved to save it for the next day, but again, there was no Gerard. Thursday, the same. Friday, still no sign of the boy, though his brother, the lanky blonde one, was staring at me with a fierce curiosity during lunch. It was only a little unsettling.

When the weekend arrived, I decided to shove every thought of the strange boy as far from my mind as possible, while drowning myself in music and playing the day away. My amp had finally shipped from Jersey and shown up on our doorstep Saturday morning. Mom and I rushed to haul it in before the rain - which had decided to come down in thick sheets that day - could soak the box.

I practiced, I learned some new songs, I tested my cooking skills - they didn’t suck - I made dinner for Mom and I since her shifts didn’t really let her cook, my jetlag evened out, I finally sorted the clothing explosion that was my room into drawers, I did a lot of things. On Sunday night, Mom made veggie burgers for dinner and asked me to “come play in the living room for her while she cooked tonight”, letting me turn my amp as loud as I wanted. It was a perfect weekend, for my first one away from Jersey. By Monday morning, I had nearly forgotten all about Gerard Way.

Until lunch time. 

I chanced a glance at the table where the Ways always sat and there, sandwiched between his two blonde brothers, was Gerard. His hair was glossy falling over his navy blue sweater and his amber eyes stayed firmly forward. 

Hold on.

Amber? I replayed memories of bio class menatlly flipping through the scarce few looks I had snatched of Gerard. They had been a darker shade, deep brown maybe? Nearly black. I took one more glance, hoping he wouldn't notice me, and - no, his eyes were definitely the color of butterscotch. 

Weird.

When the bell rang, I bolted for biology, hoping to beat Gerard there but, of course, there he was, poised like a marble statue on the stool next to mine. His posture was casual but tense, like he was truly set there in stone. He flinched infinitesimally as I took my seat next to him, but otherwise didn't move as the teacher explained the day’s lab assignment. 

Just as I was wondering how to do the lab together without speaking, or when I should spring my speech on him - yes, I still remembered it - I heard the slightest “ahem” from next to me. My every muscle stilled as I realized that the noise had been deliberate.  

“Do my ears deceive me, or are you acknowledging my existence,” I said without lifting my eyes from the slides in front of us. It was the damn onion root lab… With short, purposeful motions, I loaded the slide onto the microscope and tugged it over my way.

“Um, forgive me,” came Gerard’s smooth voice, soft and even and perhaps a little shy? “I don’t think I properly introduced myself last week. I’m Gerard Way, you must be the new student, Frank Iero.” He said my name correctly - I mean correctly, like actual italian speakers said it, the way I knew it was supposed to be said and never bothered to say, all smooth vowels and a slightly rolled ‘r’, the way no one this side of the Atlantic ever bothered to pronounce my family name and what the actual fuck, ok, who was this boy? 

That was cause enough to look him in the eye. 

Finally, I took the chance to fully and unabashedly study his face; he was beautiful. Stupidly so. Sculpted cheekbones, shapley dark brows set off against alabaster skin with not a blemish in sight, and eyes… mesmerizing golden eyes. Taking a deep steadying breath, I caught a whiff of what must have been really good cologne because it wasn’t the cheap shit that polluted Sunday mass, slathered on every sweaty Jersey dad who shopped at the same dollar store, no, this was sweet, floral and pleasant and a little dizzying and - fucking keep it together Frank, Jesus…

I exhaled harshly, shoving my face back to the microscope, refusing to get distracted by his perfect… everything. 

“It’s prophase. And yeah, I’m Frank,” I said, keeping my voice neutral and turning back to my lab sheet. 

I could feel him still looking at me. 

“Do you mind if I double check?” he asked politely. 

This motherfucker -

“ Sure,” I seethed, “double check. I must be incompetent as well as impossibe to sit next to.”

Gerard stiffened next to me and I saw him duck his head out of the corner of my eye. There was a long moment of silence as he checked the microscope. 

“It’s prophase. You were right,” he said mildly. 

“Shocker,” I said, dragging the device back over. 

“I meant no insult to your intelligence, I’m sorry,” he said and, damn him, he sounded earnest.

“Not my intelligence, oh, that’s good…” I rolled my eyes, trying to keep up my air of good old fashioned Pissed Off New Jersian. “Anaphase,” I said. Gerard didn’t check that time. He simply wrote it down and took the microscope to do the next one. 

I expected him to have an answer quickly but I was surprised to find he still hadn't loaded the next slide and was rather looking straight at me with a contemplative expression. I whipped my eyes back down. “If you aren't gonna do the next one, hand it back. I’ve already done this lab before so I promise we’ll both get A’s,” I grouched. For a second, I thought I heard him laugh.

“Frank… I'm not sure my first impression was a good one and I’d like to change that.”

“Would you now?” I didn't look at him.

“Yes, I truly would. Could you accept my explanation that I was having an off day? As well as my sincerest apologies?” I finally turned to meet his eyes again. They were deep and imploring, his entire face held an expression of the most genuine remorse. My heart did a very concerning skipping routine for a moment.

“Fine. Apology accepted, or whatever,” I said, trying to keep my face neutral. 

“Thank you,” he said, and, oh… the crooked little smile he gave proved to be the most disarming thing about him yet. 

But still… 

“Sorry this is random but, did you… did you get contacts?”

His body tensed again, but only for a fraction of a second.

“No, why do you ask?'' His words were carefree but with an undercurrent of… something. I wasn't sure what. 

“Nothing, just they’re a different color than last week. At least that's how it looks. Could’ve sworn they were, like, black last week,” I said feigning nonchalance and nudging the next slide at him.

“It’s the fluorescent lights. They make them shift sometimes depending on the angle,” he explained, placing the slide on and then focusing intently on the assignment. I stared at him narrow eyed, but he paid no mind. “Metaphase. Feel free to check, though,” he said with a smile but somewhere underneath… he was teasing me. Just slightly. 

“Y’know, I think I will,” I sassed him, dragging the device over and - oh fuck him -

“Metaphase,” I agreed, shortly, penning it down. 

He giggled. Honest to God giggled, soft and sweet and utterly adorable- how was this kid real -

“Told you,” he said sweetly, smiling and revealing a set of perfectly white, albeit strangely small, teeth. For some reason, the sight made me tense. I cleared my throat awkwardly and moved on to the next. 

Gerard remained a strangely perfect balance of quiet and chatty, offering answers for the lab and asking if I liked Forks so far, all his words mellow and measured against the backdrop of rain falling on the windows. He offered no information about himself, which was maybe a little odd but I decided not to probe. He'd already been a little cagey about the contacts question and I wasn't eager for us to digress back into silent glaring. There was one thing though-

"So where were you last week? Out sick?"

"Oh, no," he said as though the question was terribly funny, "no, just visiting some family up north."

"North? Didn't think there was much north of here."

"Did you forget Canada?" he said with a small laugh.

"I meant in the US, I'm not that dumb.

"No, you certainly aren't." Again, there was that complete earnestness in his tone as he looked straight at me, unblinking for a moment. "But you did forget Alaska." And then the moment broke and he was smirking at me. I rolled my eyes, looking back at the lab. 

We aced the assignment and packed up with the bell. As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, Gerard turned back to me on his way out the door.

"I like your shirt, by the way." Glancing down, I saw I'd worn my favorite Ramones teeshirt today and I grinned that the thought that Gerard Way, mysterious hot boy, might also be a punk. But as I looked up to thank him and ask further about his musical taste, I saw Gerard was already gone.

Chapter Text

The bell for gym sounded and my head was nowhere near in the game, despite Ryan annoyingly singing that stupid song from High School Musical at me in the locker rooms. Fitting, though, since today's lesson would be basketball… and yet I couldn't find it in me to worry about balls hitting my head. I just kept replaying bits and pieces from last period like a broken record, unfazed by the coach giving instructions or Ryan's snarky comments in my ear. Maybe I should've paid better attention considering basketball was not a friendly sport to those with coordination trouble and height challenges, but all turned out well. Ryan and I managed to once again secure hiding spots on the sidelines again. The coach seemed uncaring and even less stressed over us getting injured by those of actual athletic skill. Brendon fulfilled the quota for nerd participation as he bounced around the court with Jon, who actually wasn't half bad at basketball.

Thus leaving me with plenty of open thought time for Gerard. Mysterious Gerard, with his 180 degree mood swing today and his color changing eyes and his impeccable diction and his knowledge of bands I liked and his gorgeous face… I shook my head just slightly. Horny thoughts were for later. Something still just felt… strange. Even after our amicable interactions today. I couldn't tell what it was.

“Hey, what’s with your face?” I glanced at Ryan who was looking at me with an air of mild concern as he paused his rant about his awful Spanish class last hour.

“Face? What face?” I went for nonchalance. I missed by a fucking mile.

“Your eyes went all squinty, like the wall over there had personally offended you,” he stated.

“Yeah, well, that's how you look all the time so. Pot, kettle.” Ryan rolled his eyes and went back to staring at Brendon’s ass. Ah, bitchy pettiness for deflection, always a winning tactic.

“So, hey, not to be weird," Ryan started after a moment's pause, "but I very non-stalker like peeked in your locker during class change and saw a GuitarCenter catalog… you play?”

The magical mention of guitars dragged my thoughts back into the present and away from the gorgeous confusing lab partner of the past. Ryan and I spent the rest of class talking about the instrument we apparently both played, only occasionally looking back to find Brendon and Jon tackling each other in a sport that had no call for tackling… Ryan had apparently started writing music when he was in middle school but never talked about it outside the friend group and rarely played anything original out loud. I had written stuff, too, but likewise, didn't have a reason to show it to anyone.

"Well, maybe we could do something after school sometime. Could be fun to play music with other people for once. Besides Brendon..." his face went red again.

When the bell rang, we ditched our gym attire, which hadn't even gotten sweaty, and said our goodbyes to Brendon and Jon who were going toward the buses.

“No, ok, but hear me out,” Ryan chatted at me as we wandered among the herd of students bound for the parking lot. “I've got these lyrics right? And like… maybe this is pretty odd, but I'm just so much better at talking that way, so what I'm thinking -”

“Ryan, i swear if you’re thinking of confessing to Brendon via love song that you wrote-”

“But it would be so much better and i could do it like - like casual ok, just ‘hey Bren, i’ve been working on this thing’ and he’ll know its special ‘cause i never sing for anyone, and then- then he’ll get it right?” Ryan's eyes were bright with nervous enthusiasm, it was almost cute.

“I think,” I said, pausing by my truck bed, “you watch too many romcoms in your spare time.” He rolled his eyes at me, back to his usual cynicism but his mouth and eyes were still a little soft.

“I’m gonna keep working on it, at least listen to it for me to gimme another opinion before I play it for him?”

“Yeah sure thing, you can humiliate yourself in front of me first so it's less painful the second time.” Ryan huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, later asshole.” The other boy departed for his car across the lot. I tossed my backpack across the bench to the passenger side of the cab and, before climbing in, I paused for one quick moment to glance around.

I would swear up and down that I wasn't looking for him but…

But it was impossible not to be drawn toward that elegant figure next to the sleek trans am. He was unfairly hot, leaned against the glossy car door chatting with his brother, the tall blonde one. The rain started to come down like icy pinpricks on my cheeks and I tried to wrestle my eyes away. I failed. My mind reverted back to bio earlier. Why had Gerard gotten so cold when I asked about his eyes? It had been a simple question. Nothing to garner anger. Why did I care so much about his mood toward me? Why did it matter? He was just a student, just my lab partner, and only for the semester. He was just…

Intriguing. I couldn't help but be curious about this guy who was so different to everyone else I'd met in Forks so far. Maybe it was because I felt strange and outside everyone else as well and I had some kind of deluded thought of us being similar... But no.

There was no reason to fixate. I had friends. Gerard certainly wasn't the only oddball at school if Ryan was any indicator. He was just the most attractive one.

I threw one last careless glance his way and found the boy's golden eyes looking back. He gave the smallest tilt of his head and I threw myself into my truck.

~*~

The week passed in slow motion and the November rain began to turn icy. I was no stranger to sleet, but I was new to driving in it. I suffered through a weekend long lecture/driving lesson from mom about how to handle ice on roads.

December 3rd marked my first full month in Forks.

Brendon and Ryan became closer friends to me, going as far as coming over to the house to hang out. Mom nearly burst from excitement when Ryan came by the first time, thinking he was a boyfriend. Her hopes got dashed pretty quick.

Hambone and I spent time together after school, or rather when his homeschool lessons could take a break. He even invited me to some beach bonfire party he was having to mark the end of winter semester.

And Gerard... remained a beautiful, smart, polite, enigma.

So as Friday's school day came to a close, I followed the flood of students out, listening to Brendon complain about how he was so gonna fail his English final next week. He was catching a ride with Ryan today I noticed, as they both stopped by his white Toyota.

"Dude, why did you park in fucking Narnia today?" Ryan snarked. I rolled my eyes.

"I got here late, ok? Edge of the lot for me, sorry! At least I made first bell."

"Isn't your mom like always up before dawn?"

She was. When she actually slept at the house. Last night, I'd gotten a call at 7 pm telling me something crazy happened, she couldn't talk about it yet, but she was pulling an overnight shift at the station and she'd be home for pizza tomorrow. I didn't tell Bren and Ryan this, though.

"Not important, just some crazy police stuff I guess." They looked at me concerned for a second. "It's all good, seriously. I'll see you guys later," I forced a smile and headed off to my car.

For some sick and twisted reason, the irrational half of my brain compelled me to take just one last glance around the lot before I tossed my backpack in. Just one, to see if Gerard Way was also glancing around for me. We had a funny track record of meeting eyes. It didn't mean anything. Probably. He was probably wondering why I was looking at him. And I was wondering why I found him looking back... and on it went.

Sure enough there he was, next to that trans am with one of his other siblings, the short strawberry blonde one. The smaller boy caught me looking and his face turned venomous. Gerard cast another of his curious head tilts my way and I turned immediately, as always.

The next moments were too much a flash to properly recall. There was a screech of tires on asphalt. There were yells from students. An arm around my middle, a clang of my head against something solid and unforgiving, a whine of bending metal, and…

And golden eyes staring down at me.

For a moment, a very long moment, I was simply in a daze, everything just a touch out of focus save for Gerard Way’s perfectly sculpted face. But that moment passed. As my brain came back online, I was suddenly aware of voices surrounding me, each one vying for my attention louder than the last, in a cacophony of noise. I lifted my head slightly from the firm pillow of Gerard’s arm and glanced around to see most of Forks High around my car and… and the clearly dented van that had been rushing towards me a moment ago… Then, through the buzzing noise of voices, one cut through clearly.

“Are you alright?”

It was Gerard. Gerard, who had been several yards away from me not ten seconds ago. Gerard, who was holding me like some fainting maiden in front of my truck, wearing an odd look on his face, a mix of concern, horror, and something I couldn't place. Gerard… who’s shoulder had definitely made contact with the van as it hurtled toward us… I felt dizzy trying to recall what had just happened. I couldn't speak to Gerard’s question. All I could do was nod.

Which was apparently all he needed, because with that slight tilt of chin, I was hauled to my feet and Gerard was vanishing into the crowd as though nothing had happened. My sides were immediately flanked by Ryan and Spencer while Jon said something about an ambulance. From that point, my brain went on autopilot.

An ambulance actually came, even after I assured everyone that I was fine. I was brought to the ER where nurses fussed over me even as I assured them that I was fine. My mother stormed in, threatening the girl who had nearly hit me - Hayley, I thought her name was - that she would lose her license, even after I assured her that I was fine.

And then the cherry on top of it all…

Just as I thought things couldn’t get any more humiliating, the doctor arrived with a name tag that read Way…

“Hello there, I’m Dr. Donna Way, you must be Frank?” I nodded dumbly.

Listen, I am very much a homosexual, but Dr. Way was simply a gorgeous woman. She looked like a model, a movie star, like one of those hospital drama heartthrob characters. Her hair was the same glossy black as her son’s, her skin looked like fine china crafted into features that were so lovely they could have been painted, all topped off with a positively charming smile and molten honey eyes.

"H-hello, ma'am." I stuttered. I actually stuttered. Even my mom looked surprised. Dr. Way continued, producing a flashlight and shining it in my eyes.

“So, I hear you took quite a fall? Could you describe what happened?” she asked kindly, her voice smooth and calming. I recounted the incident as best I could while she checked me over, trying to keep every detail because there were several things that weren’t adding up, specifically -

“Yeah, I think I would have hit my head harder if Gerard hadn’t caught me.” There, that would stir the pot. Dr. Way paused and looked at me with serene curiosity.

“Oh? That’s one of your boys isn’t it Donna?” my mother asked.

“Yup, he was there, but I honestly don’t know how he got to me, he was on the other side of the lot when the van came around…” I trailed off hoping the doctor would say something to this but -

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re ok, Frank, regardless. No signs of concussion or anything, I’ll be happy to discharge you, just call and let me know if anything comes up in the coming days, dizziness or nausea, anything like that,” she said with a disarmingly kind smile and a firm pat on the shoulder. With that, I was escorted out to the reception desk and signed out of the hospital.

On our way out of the observation room, I was vaguely aware of my mom fussing over me, tittering and calling me her baby boy, waiting at the desk while the nurses gave the rundown of my discharge. And then around the corner I caught his voice. As mom signed my discharge papers, I sidled over to the wall.

"- would you stop nagging me, ok?” Gerard hissed.

“Actually, no, Gee - I won’t. Do you have any idea what you -”

The second voice - sweet but urgent and slightly richer than Gerard’s - cut off abruptly. Then, I was being stared down by a cherubic strawberry blonde. Or… stared up at.

Wait, was I taller than someone for once?

“Frank,” Gerard stated plainly. “I didn’t realize you were there. How are you feeling?” His words were measured and polite.

“Uh, yeah. Good. I’m fine,” i was acutely aware of his brother’s golden eyes glaring at me, “Doc said "I'm good to go.”

“Isn't that great? That's great, well,” the blonde said icily, “you should get on home now. Lots of rest. Gerard, let’s be off.” And with that the shorter boy was dragging his brother away.

My head was spinning and not from the fall. Everything felt unreal, like i was living in some kind of strange reality where everyone knew something i didn't because Gerard had definitely intercepted that accident, his hand had come into contact with a speeding van and - and -

The image of Hayley’s van side came into my mind and, yes, there had been a sizable dent.

A dent in the shape of an arm.

I was crazy. I had to be. Was I really thinking that Gerard, a seventeen year old boy, had stopped a vehicle of any size with his bare hands?

I stewed on that thought for a minute.

Yes.

I was.

Chapter Text

“Alright, sweetheart, I'm thinking pizza for dinner, any toppings you want, ok?” Mom said as she walked in the door.

After my ordeal at the hospital, mom had been ready to demand the rest of the day off and drive me home but I was really sick of the fawning coming from everyone at school (there had been a crowd in the hospital lobby when I walked out) and my thoughts were racing too fast. After a bit of persuasion, mom agreed to drop me home and have Hambone get my car for me later. After a dozen more kisses on my cheeks and forehead, mom finally left for the station with a promise to be home at 6:00 on the dot.

So for two blessed hours, I had been completely by myself at home.

I'd hauled myself upstairs, stripped off my clothes, and crawled into bed. While my body had sunk down with exhaustion, my brain had kept up at a sprint. Every second replaying frame by frame in my brain, dissecting every movement, action, word that had come about in the last hour and a half. Mentally sifting through the entire day - no, week - trying to untie the knots, uncover any small piece of information i may have missed, all in hopes of one answer. One piece of clarity. Everything on the surface made sense but I felt like I had grazed beneath. I had noticed the curtain, I knew the magic trick was just that - a trick. It felt like knowing the rabbit didn't really come out of the hat, but not knowing there was a secret chamber under the table yet.

I wanted to find that secret compartment. See the man behind the curtain.

But how?

These thoughts were still running laps in my brain now, as mom placed the order for pizza. I had barely feigned coherence as I listed the toppings I wanted.

“Frankie, you want garlic knots?” My brain snapped to focus for a second.

“Yes, of course.” Because nothing was better for mental stress than buttery, garlic coated carbs.

Needless to say, I was ready to sleuth the shit out of my lab partner. I was going full Sherlock. I was getting my answers. Maybe there was nothing to find but... no, I was too certain there was. The weekend was here and i had all the time in the world to research, I was going to internet-Facebook-fucking White Pages stalk Gerard Way.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

~*~

Nevermind, tomorrow could have waited a little bit.

Despite not having a concussion, I still woke up to my monster of all headaches and quite the lump on the back of my head. I’d iced it significantly the night before, but it could only do so much.

“Ma, where the advil…”

But mom didn't respond. There at our little kitchen table in the predawn light was my mother, still in her uniform shirt and pj pants, asleep on top of about a dozen manila envelopes of documents.

Quietly, I rummaged through the cabinet above the microwave for medicine while grabbing the coffee grounds from the pantry.

The sound of the coffee maker was what roused my mom from her sleep. Ah, like mother, like son…

“Frankie? Oh, baby, here, I've got it,” she hustled from her chair, staggering and grabbing the mugs down from the top cabinet. “Why aren’t you still sleeping?”

“Cuz my head feels like it's going to split,” I said dryly. “Why are you turning the kitchen table into a pillow?” Mom laughed a short and humorless laugh as she glanced back.

“I didn’t even realize… nevermind. This case is just keeping a lot of us super busy,” she said. “Here, go sit, I'll get breakfast. You need to rest after yesterday.”

And wasn’t that just like my mom. Not a care in the world for her own likely aching neck and back, or the fact that she likely hadn’t slept more than 4 hours on that damn table. No, she needed to make sure her child who had been given a clean bill of health yesterday, did not pour his own cereal lest it be too taxing. It was almost funny if it weren’t so endearing how truly loving my mother was. How dad had let her go I wasn't sure.

As I sat at the table while mom poured coffee and cheerios, I took a glance at the files covering the surface.

Animal attack? Two bodies… bears or lions…

“Woah, someone died?” Mom set my breakfast in front of me with the bottle of advil.

“Oh that… nothing for you to worry about honey. Just stay out of the woods, for sure. You didn’t have mountain lions back in Belleville,” she joked, or she tried to through the air or concern.

As she shuffled the files back into their folders, I caught a glimpse of a photo. There wasn't much to it but a lot of blood spatters and what looked like a very torn up human arm…

I suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.

Despite loving horror and slasher movies - the gorier the better, in my opinion - there was something very different about it when it wasn’t fake blood and costume makeup.

“Never you mind, sweetie,” mom said, probably noticing the lack of color in my face. “We’re sending some wildlife surveillance groups into the woods to see if anything seems out of the ordinary. This might’ve just been a one time incident. They’ll see if there's some kind of animal that needs relocating or something like that. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Somehow, despite her reasoning, it didn't feel like nothing.

~*~

When I got to school on Monday, my eyes were immediately assaulted by banners of every shape and size, decked in gallons of silver glitter, advertising the end of the semester Winter Dance.

As I stood taking in the sparkly rainbow words “Inclusivity of all couples welcome!” I felt a presence sidle up to me. Ryan, looking pinched and annoyed by the banner’s presence.

“Ya think the LGBTQ+ welcomeness is a little too on the nose? Like, glad they're supportive but wow... that's uh... a lot,” i joked. Brendon waltzed up at that moment with far more energy than the both of us.

“Hey guys! Great banner right? I designed it! Spence and the school counsel had me come in to help this weekend, I needed the community service hours for extra credit y'know. Anyway! Like the bit down there -” he gestured to the line i’d been rolling my eyes over “- that was my idea, might be a little on the nose but it used to be a girl’s choice dance which, like, sexist and so not gay guy friendly so i said fuck that and the committee really jumped for it, anyway, who are you guys going with?”

Brendon finally paused for air, looking somewhat intently at Ryan, whose body tensed even more if that was possible.

“Not sure yet, Bren,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from topics that would send Ryan to an early grave. Brendon nodded agreeably.

“Well, I was thinking we could all go as one big group! That’s assuming you fellas don't get dates first,” he gave me a friendly punch on the arm before muttering something about homework to finish before first period and running down the hall.

Ryan’s body relaxed as he let out the most forlorn sigh I'd ever heard.

“Well,” he started, dejectedly. “Frank, do you wanna go to the dance with me?”

Wait.

What.

“Uh… Ry, Brendon went that way,” i said pointing down the hall.

“I know dumbass, i said ‘Frank’ didn’t i?” Yes, he had. Which was concerning.

‘Uh huh, I was hoping I'd misheard you. Cuz -”

“I know you don’t feel that way about me,” he rushed out, “and don’t get any funny ideas, cuz i dont feel that way about you either.”

I sensed a ‘but’.

“But,” he continued, “Bren is never going to ask me… so… I guess I just figured…”

“Ask the new kid who’s conveniently also homosexual and incite intrigue and possible jealousy?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“I’ll admit, dude, it’s not a bad plan,” Ryan perked up, “It’s a terrible plan.” His face fell. “Do you have any idea how hard you’d break Brendon’s heart? Ok seriously, buddy, i get that you can’t confess your feelings for shit so you want him to come to you, but let me be real with you for a sec,” i started to steer us towards our classroom, speaking hushedly as throngs of people passed us by, all whispering about the dance. “Brendon is so oblivious to the fact that you have any feelings for him and he is desperate for some confirmation. Hence the very pointed statements just now about who we’re going to the dance with." We entered class and took our usual seats near the back. So, no, Ryan Ross, I do not accept your invitation and I'm begging you, go ask the guy you actually like.”

Ryan’s face was about a hundred shades of red when I glanced at him, his chin tucked into his scarf.

As he tugged his cap down and stared forward, I heard a muttered “maybe.”

~*~

Lunchtime found Ryan being even more embarrassed and shy around Brendon than usual, and yet seemingly trying to be closer to him. He took his seat next to Bren immediately instead of coming to the lunchline with me and waiting to sandwich me in the middle. Honestly, with how close the two seemed outside of school, it genuinely felt like Ryan was only nervous about other people noticing his feelings, rather than brendon himself.

Idiot, I thought reaching for an apple. The shiny red skin slipped through my fingers sending the fruit to the floor -

Except no. Because there, saving my snack from getting bruised, were two porcelain white hands. And standing from his crouched position of apple savior, was Gerard Way.

I took a moment to be properly awestruck again by his face. Seriously, what teenage boy had skin that clear, he could have been in skin care commercials. His eyes were the same honey gold as last week, not a hint of the obsidian color they were at our first meeting. Yes, I had been keeping track.

“Wow, first me then my fruit. Although, I did come away with a bruise, so maybe you should stick to rescuing falling apples," I sassed, coming out of my Gerard-Way-is-hot stupor. His nose wrinkled slightly at the mention of my ordeal.

“How is your head, Frank?” he asked in his smooth tenor voice, placing the apple safely on my lunch tray.

“It’s fine,” I replied softly, trying to ignore the flare of happiness I felt over him being concerned for me. It was just basic human decency.

But he saved me… and i hadn't spent the weekend compiling a detailed journal report of my memories - including photos of my truck door where a strange not-car related dent sat - for nothing.

“Y'know, something is still a little fuzzy, though,” i said, “You were so far away from me before the van came around, you should be a track team star with that level of speed.” He cocked his head at me innocently.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Frank. I was parked right next to you talking with Patrick, my brother,” he said without missing a beat. “Are you sure your head is ok? I’d be happy to speak with my mother and get you a follow up consultation…” There was another moment of sweet joyous contentment in my gut over his concern and i almost simply agreed and thanked him but -

Oh no you don't, you hot bastard.

“Listen, Gee - can I call you Gee? Your brother called you that when you were gossiping around the corner in the hospital that day," i smirked, "so i assume it's an ok nickname for you. Anyway, Gee, you can't make me think I'm crazy. I know what happened, I know what I saw, and I know a lie when I hear one.” Even if it was delivered completely convincingly.

His face flattened at the mention I had overheard him and Patrick.

“Frank, I’m not sure what you think you saw -”

“I saw you on the other side of the lot by that incredibly eye-catching car of yours a split second before Hayley’s van came around. I saw you above me when you broke my fall. I saw a dent in that van where my body should've been crushed between its front bumper and my truck door,” i was seething at how neutral his face was.

“A dent? Frank, honestly, what are you implying? That I made it across the lot at a speed only known to the Flash, and stopped a moving vehicle? Do you realize how that sounds?”

Insane. Yes, I did know. But why did I feel right in my gut that something in my crazy recollection of events was true?

“No one would believe that. In fact, I'm not so sure you do, hence my concern for your health,” he said placatingly.

I flushed in embarrassment. Fuck this.

“Just. I know what I saw," I grit out one last time before storming back to the usual table.

I know what I saw.

Chapter Text

I spent the rest of lunch hour glowering at Gerard who, contrary to our usual eye meeting and flitting away, stared resolutely at his family while chatting amicably. I glared harder.

He was smiling, though his eyes looked just so slightly tense. He was talking, his body was neutral. His brother, Mikey, punched his shoulder laughing in a way I hadn't thought possible for the usually stoic blonde. Gerard's shoulders tensed slightly as he picked at his food… and didn’t eat any of it. Half of the lunch hour had passed and his tray was full. Not that I could blame him, cafeteria food was never particularly great but still. The orange on his plate didn’t look too offensive, surely he’d at least take a bite of something. But no, when the bell chimed, he and his siblings dumped their trays, each one of them full of uneaten food.

“Snobby, rich kids,” I muttered. Surely that was all, they probably had a chef or something at home and couldn't stomach less than Michelin Star quality, who knew…

I mentally braced myself for whatever the next hour with Gerard would bring and grabbed my backpack.

“See you in gym,” said Brendon as we waved and parted to our classes.

When I took my seat in biology, Gerard fixed me with a polite smile, laced with pitying eyes. The kind you give a hospital patient when you know something is wrong but don't want to say anything.

He was really going to keep at his angle of my being fucking brain damaged or something. Great.

In that knowledge, as our teacher began the lesson on the structure of the respiratory system, I resolutely pulled out my notebook and flipped to my crime scene analysis page from the weekend and continued jotting down notes about the dent in my car right next to the picture I'd taped in.

I could feel Gerard tense next to me.

That’s right, fucker, i’m NOT letting this go. The satisfaction of making him sweat next to me was purely a bonus. When the bell rang for next period, I packed up and gave Gearard a ‘what are you gonna do about it’ look. His golden eyes narrowed, and his face almost looked… sad. For one aching moment, I felt bad. Was I being mean? Did he really just mean well and I was nuts?

“I sincerely hope you feel better, Frank,” he said robotically, before standing and sweeping past me.

“Fuck you, too,” I muttered, the words wilting in my mouth as they came out.

Maybe… he didn’t completely deserve that.

~*~

As the final week of the semester approached, I found myself consumed with finishing papers and projects, studying for tests, and digging through my laptop’s harddrive for my old book report. I didn’t have any time to think too hard about anything else outside school. Ryan, Brendon, Jon, and Spencer all came over for study groups after school and through afternoons of trigonometry, pizza and chinese for dinner with mom, rounds of guitar hero and mario kart, i forgot, slowly about my accident.

The end of the semester also meant parties. Namely, the Winter Dance and Hambone’s illicit beach bonfire.

The bonfire would be fun; I'd never gone to anything like that in Jersey, unless no name punk shows in abandoned warehouses counted. The school dance… I was resolved to avoid going at all costs.

For some reason though, my decision was just the bait God wanted to really screw me over…

Monday morning, on the last week of the semester, Ryan came running up to me in the parking lot.

“I did it! I really did it, oh my God, FRANK!” He grabbed my shoulders and began to shake me. I was barely out of my truck.

“Uh?”

“I ASKED BRENDON URIE TO THE DANCE AND HE FUCKING SAID YES AND THEN. HE. KISSED. ME!”

I had not had enough coffee for this.

“That’s awesome Ry,” I said, genuinely happy for my friend albeit tired. “Please tell me you didn’t do it via love song?”

Ryan’s face lit up even more.

“About that…” His face broke into a shit eating grin.

“What?”

~*~

“WHAT?!”

“A band! You, me, Jon, and Spencer! Jon plays bass pretty well and Spence has been drumming in the school’s marching bands since he was like twelve, it's perfect!”

“Um, no? It’s not? Ok first of all, even if I was down for having my first show ever be a dumbass school dance,” Ryan pouted slightly, “We don’t have a singer! We kinda need a singer!”

“Handled already, Hayley volunteered,” Ryan said excitedly. I’d had no idea Hayley could sing, but then again, the only interaction I'd had with her was her car nearly hitting me…

“Ryan, look,” I sighed, fixing my eyes on him, going for a good solid glare but He was doing the thing.

I had discovered during the last month and change of knowing Ryan that he had a puppy dog face that was almost as lethal as Brendon’s which he used for purely diabolical purposes.

Like right now.

“Ry…”

“Please Frank, you're the best guitar player i know and we need a rhythm, you would be so amazing, pleeeeeease?”

“Uh i’m the only other guitar player you know dumbass,” i quipped.

“Not true, Bren plays a bit as well!”

“Then ask him!”

“No.”

“UGH fine,” I put my finger to Ryan's lips before he could start celebrating, “on one condition.” he nodded silently.

“You have to buy pizza for the next three movie nights.” Ryan nodded so fast it was a blur and I removed my hand.

“THANK YOU FRANKIE!”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.”

During our banter, I could feel the prickle of eyes on the back of my neck.

I didn’t need to look to know they were golden ones.

~*~

“How… How are you today, Frank?”

I froze on my lab stool as our teacher put on today’s “educational film” - AKA an excuse to not have to teach anymore for the semester since our exam was over. My veins froze over for a second in shock before lighting up like lava in anger and I turned to stare questioningly, almost disbelievingly, at the source of the voice.

“Um,” I held the tremor that wanted to creep in my voice still. Gerard was talking to me. For the first time in days. This was fine. “I’m… fine? And you?”

“I’m well,” he responded smoothly, “how was your lunch?”

Ok, what the hell.

“What the hell?”

“Did… did you enjoy your lunch?” For the first time since our meeting, Gerard looked uncomfortable. Not the pained and vaguely sickened kind of uncomfortable like the first day we met, but the kind of uncomfortable that was… nervous? Was I making Gerard way nervous?

I wondered why…

“Yeah I heard you, but what the hell?”

He flinched a little more. “Is that… an inappropriate question to be asking after lunch hour?”

“After lunch? No, it’s fine. After just… all of our interactions in general? Yes, it's weird.” His eyes darkened a little, their glowing amber turning dull.

“I’m afraid I don't follow…”

“Ok let's have the rundown: the first day we met, you acted like being near me was giving you the stomach flu, the next time, you were completely cordial if a bit on edge, then you’re dead silent around me for weeks barring a hello and nothing more, then you save my fucking life from a moving vehicle and act like nothing happened while discrediting my own account of the situation and then, finally, you give me the cold shoulder again for days while acting like i’m crazy - and now you wanna have a friendly chat? About my lunch?”

Gerard’s eyes fell down and shut and for a moment he looked like one of those weeping angel statues in a cathedral. God, he was unnaturally beautiful.

Unnaturally…

“I’m so sorry, Frank,” he implored, fixing those eyes back on me and this time they were swirling with the most sincere remorse I'd ever seen.

“I…” Where was I going with this? Forgiveness? Anger? Try to teach him a lesson on how to treat others going forward?

No. None of the above. I was angry, I was bitter, I wanted him to realize what he did was shitty… but even still, there was an inexplicable desire to not ruin whatever possible friendship could exist between us. At the end of the day, there was still something intriguing and alluring about Gerard Way and I wanted to know him.

“I don't forgive you,” I said and his face dropped just slightly, sad yet understanding. “But I'd still like to be friends. I’m just not sure if that's what you want, given your actions. If you’re wanting or - or trying to be my friend, you gotta prove it buddy.”

His face shifted again, this time to something contemplative, an almost sad smile gracing his lips.

“I'm not sure,” he started, “I'm not sure if being friends is the best idea. A smart idea. If you wanted to make a wise choice, you'd probably stay away from me. But regardless… I like the sound of friends.” And wasn't that just… fucking weird.

“You talk a big game for someone who's scariest quality right now is gaslighting that I can see right through,” I quipped. He gave a tight smile.

“Whatever you say, Frank.”

Chapter Text

That night, I dreamt about Gerard Way.

It would be the first of many, unfortunately. Or… fortunately? I couldn’t tell yet. To dream about the beautiful boy was certainly enjoyable, but the dreams themselves… were another thing entirely.

Gerard was standing in pitch darkness several yards away, his back facing me. The only light came from his alabaster skin which seemed almost luminescent.

“Gerard?” I called tentatively. His head turned just slightly as if he might've heard me over his shoulder. His black hair continued to obscure his face from me.

I walked towards him. He never got closer…

I started to jog. Still the distance remained.

I resorted to calling out louder. I started to run. I shouted. I broke into a full sprint.

He never got any closer.

“GERARD -”

I was in my bed.

Gone was the pitch blackness of my strange dream void, replaced by the faint glow of street lamps outside my window.

Where the curtain was fluttering…

Mind hazy from being jolted from my dream, I stumbled to the window and it was shut tightly. The breeze must've been from the air vent. I went and flopped back down in bed.

3:34 AM.

“Weird,” I muttered at the ceiling as sleep took me again.

When I woke the second time it was, yet another, drizzling morning. Although this time, the drizzle was hitting my window with heavy smack.

Not rain - sleet. Awesome.
“- no, no it’s fine, i’ll be there ASAP, just try to keep the scene clear. I know, I know, easier said than done in this weather. I got it, I'm on my way.” my mother’s voice cut off as i was rounding the corner into the kitchen. “Oh, Frankie, good morning sweetie.” I kissed her cheek and went for the coffee.

“Morning mama. What’s all that about? Another case?” It seemed like mom was constantly busy these days. For a small town, she was seeing way more action than she probably wanted.

“Oh you caught that huh?” she grimaced. “Seems we’ve got quite the beast on our hand.”

“Another animal attack?” She nodded but it was stiff and her eyes were pensive.

“Let’s hope,” she paused as she strapped her holster to her hip. “Frank, I want you home before dark going forward.”

“Woah… bad enough for curfew huh? Does this mean I'll need a police escort to the school dance tonight?” I tried for lighthearted sarcasm and missed. By a lot…

“Oh absolutely,” mom said resolutely, “jokes aside Frankie, I know you're used to big cities and all the dangers that exist there but here we have different dangers. If this is an animal, it's clearly one that likes to hunt at night and if it's…”

I watched the worried lines between her brows get deeper.

“If it's not an animal?” I prompted.

“Home before dark. No exceptions. Got it kiddo?”

I nodded.

~*~

The school day passed in utter normalcy, with most of the teachers opting to do “fun” end of semester projects like math Jeopardy or US history trivia with candy for prizes as if we were five years old.

Biology continued its theme of watching nature documentaries, during which Gerard had struck up the odd habit of whispering conversation with me. Never anything serious, usually about my classes or the weather. It was admittedly pleasant.

“So the dance is tonight,” I heard his hushed voice over the tone of David Attenborough describing some kind of ocean slug.

My heart stopped and then stuttered back up with a heavy thud.

He wasn't... Was he?

“Uh, yeah.”

“And you’re… going?”

“Not of my own free will,” I groused. He gave a low breathy laugh.

Why was that sound attractive? Get it together, Frank!

“What does that mean? No date?” It was my turn to laugh.

“God no, who the fuck’s gonna ask me?”

Gerard gave a louder than normal snort.

“You’d be surprised…” At that comment I had to face him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” he said casually with a sweet smile. “Just that you’re far more desirable than you seem to realize.”

What. Was that. Supposed. To mean…

“I think you’ve got me mistaken for someone else, one of your siblings perhaps? Or yourself," I muttered the last part but not softly enough. His eyes widened infinitesimally, as though surprised to hear that he was easily the most attractive guy in the school.

“What?”

“Mm,” he shook his head noncommittally, ”just amusing that you don't see yourself clearly. I can name about five people in this room that would have jumped to go to that dance with you, were it not for your blatant broadcasting that you’re only going so you can play in the band. Why, even Ryan Ross, notably the most pretentious member of this student body took to you enough to try asking you,” he finished and his tone soured just slightly at the mention of my almost fake date.

“Two things,” I began stifling a laugh, “Ryan was asking me as a way to bait Brendon, not because he actually likes me.”

“One doesn’t have to like someone to be attracted to them,” Gerard interjected which was… yeah I wasn't gonna dwell on that one too long.

“And second,” I cut him off sternly, “Ry isn't the most pretentious person in this school.”

“Oh? The who is, in your professional opinion?” He was joking with me. My veins felt fizzy with happiness.

“Why, you of course,” I said, smirking.

“Me?” he responded in faux shock. “Why how could you say such a thing?”

“Oh please, you know it's true. Mr. I Only Sit With My Family And Can’t Be Bothered By Anyone Else. Mr. I’m The Smartest Kid In Class - ‘oh let me check your answer Frank, no one’s as smart as me!’ -” he openly chuckled now earning a stern glance from our teacher - “seriously, you’re so pretentious you buy cafeteria lunch and then don't eat any of it. That’s just wasteful.”

His hand clenched slightly on the desk next to me. Was that a sore subject? Did I just ruin what was the best interaction I had had with Gerard so far?

“Yes, well, I suppose I'm used to different food. Cafeteria meals always taste… bland.”

“You’re right on that,” I agreed readily, trying to keep our light conversation going. “So, why aren't you going to the dance?” He smiled wryly.

“Given your assessment of my character, do you really expect me to enjoy a dance full of ‘people beneath me’, bland snacks, and likely spiked punch?”

“Hah, fair point,” I conceded. “The band is good, I hear.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He was playing along. The butterflies in my stomach were waking up even more.

“Yeah, their rhythm guitar player is pretty great. Best in the school if you ask me," I joked. It earned another chuckle. The butterflies were very awake now. They were practically dancing.

“Don’t be too sure,” said still smiling, “my brothers are both excellent musicians themselves.” Of course they were. A family as affluent as Gerards must surely have been able to afford all the music lessons in the world. I wondered which of his brothers played guitar.

“In any case,” he continued, “I'm sure you're amazing. I’d love to see you play.”

Fuck it, the butterflies were opening a mosh pit in my stomach.

“Then come to the dance with me tonight,” I blurted.

SHIT.

It was at that moment that the bell rang and our teacher paused the film. As the lights of the classroom flickered on, I faced Gerard with my face feeling like it was on fire. How had I just said that? After all the turbulence of our interactions, after calling him out on being a jerk mere days ago, after just nursing our tenuous friendship into being…

Gerard’s face was an unreliable mix of soft sadness and even sympathy. The butterflies were no longer moshing but rather punching me from the inside for being so stupid.

“After all we’ve discussed, I'm sure you can guess my answer to that. I’m genuinely not a fan of gatherings like that.” Ah. He was letting me down easy. Great.

“Maybe I’ll see you over the break instead?”

The butterflies began to dance again.

Chapter Text

The gymnasium was awash with blue and purple lights filtering through the cheap crepe streamers in uneven streams. Despite the melting pot of every person’s combined hairspray/perfume/cologne/sweat mixing in the air with pizza and sugary punch, the faint smell of rubber that always lingered in the gym was present.

The center of the makeshift dance floor was a single moving mass of glittery dresses and suits in every color. The student body must have felt even more emboldened by the posters for the dance proclaiming its LGBTQ+ friendliness as I noticed more than half a dozen couples of the same sex variety dancing closely together. I smiled and felt all at once happy and a twinge in my chest as I not so secretly wished to be one of those people.

However, that wasn’t why I was here.

Guitar in hand, I skirted around the edges of the room avoiding the throng of bodies dancing as I slipped onto the stage alongside my new bandmates. Hayley was standing toward the back next behind Spencer’s drum kit, half hiding in a curtain of silver streamers doing some kind of funny lip buzzing thing which I assumed was a singing warm up. Ryan was setting up his amp while making occasional heart eyes at Brendon who was the stand in DJ for the night until we started. Jon was nowhere to be seen but his bass was already on the stage sitting in a stand.

“First gig is a highschool dance, God what is my life,” I muttered to myself as I set to work plugging in my amp and setting up my few pedals.

After a hasty set up, an awkward screeching stop to the DJ music, and an incredibly awkward introduction from Brendon, it was time.

I stared into the glittering abyss of my peers, feeling every inch the awkward new kid I had been on day one, as Ryan started to stammer into his microphone. Hayley looked shell shocked next to him and I guessed he was taking over trying to talk up the crowd for her. Jon looked warily at the crowd and Spencer behind me was staging at his feet as if he couldn’t believe these were the dolts he was on stage with.

Ok.

I needed to fix this.

I felt five inches high instead of five feet. This was my first gig. My first band. The thing I had wanted my whole life. It might be a shitty highschool dance but we were not gonna be a shitty highschool band.

I steadied the mic in front of my mouth.

“Alright, thanks Ry, now that they’re half asleep,” the crowd giggled slightly, “should we give them something to rock out to?” I poured as much false bravado into my words as I could. How did people make working the crowd look easy?

There were some murmurs and small cheers.

I could do this.

“I said,” louder this time, “DO YOU WANT SOMETHING TO ROCK TO?”

They cheered. Loud.

“FORKS HIGH,” I shouted like every front man I'd ever seen, “ARE. YOU. READY. TO. ROCK?”

They screamed. I slammed out my first chords and Spencer’s drum joined me shortly. The first Notes out of Ryan’s lead guitar came through and people began to yell louder. Hayley took her breath and for a split second, as I beamed into the blinding lights of our fake gym stage, I thought I saw Gerard in the very back of the room, grinning at me.

I blinked and he was gone.

But for that moment, it didn’t matter.

I had a band and a show to play.

~*~

When mom picked me up from the dance, I was so high on adrenaline I didn't even have room to feel embarrassed about my mother picking me up in her police cruiser. The buzzing happiness in my veins didn’t fade until I had gotten in the front door and up the stairs to the bathroom to shower. Even then, the excitement was only dampened as sheer exhaustion set in while I stripped off the ill fitting thrifted suit pants and vest I had worn.

After washing the sweat from my hair, I went downstairs where mom was dishing up celebratory brownies and ice cream for me.

“You’re the best, mom, thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek.

“Oh, honey, I'm so proud of you. Do you think you’ll play together again? There's a prom in the spring, you know,” she said.

“Uh, for sure!” I replied through a mouthful of cookie dough ice cream.

“Oh, almost forgot,” she spun around and rummaged under the cabinet for a moment. “I know you probably don't care for these much, but flowers for the performer,” she said as she slid a vase of red roses across the kitchen table to me.

She was right. Flowers were not something I cared for. But flowers from my mom as a congratulations on my first show ever - i would cherish them.

“Mama, I love them. Thank you.”

We finished our ice cream bowls and eventually the entire carton together before saying goodnight as I tottered up the stairs hugging my vase of roses.

As I reentered my room and settled into bed at last, I felt the energy seep from my muscles into the mattress. Just as I began to fade from consciousness, I heard a tap at my window.

Every inch of me tightened. Mom’s words from the morning crept into my mind, warning about things lurking in the night.

A tap on the window was probably nothing. It could’ve been a twig falling from the tree outside or even a heavy raindrop. It was sprinkling outside after all.

And yet… this had sounded different. Solid. Like a pebble or a rock. Or someone tapping…

Without turning on a single light, I slid to the ground and crawled toward the window silently, cursing my morbid curiosity as I did. Ever so slowly, I peeled the edge of a curtain back and peered over the window sill. The street was empty in the orange glow of the streetlamp. The steady rain fell in sheets tousling the evergreen branches. Not another motion in sight.

I stood up fully. It wasn't the rain, there wasn't a lot of wind.

And then it hit me. Or rather, the window.

A pea sized hunk of ice smacked, splattered, and melted into the rivulets of rain on the glass.

Hail.

“Awesome,” I muttered. Witha quick tug to ensure my window was locked, I drew the curtains back and flopped back into the bed.

As sleep took me, my last thought was of Gerard smiling at me like an apparition though the stage lights.

The next morning, when I went to my truck to get my backpack out, I noticed a single long stemmed red rose laying in front of the front tire. Mom said it must have fallen out of the bouquet she bought yesterday.

Somehow, that didn't feel correct, as I tucked it into the vase later and it stood taller than all the rest.

Chapter Text

The day of Hambone’s bonfire arrived at last and needless to say, I was excited. It was cold and overcast as always, but no sign of rain yet which meant perfect weather for gathering around a fire with friends on the beach. Ryan and Brendon were planning to come, though both were being cagey about calling it a date, and Spencer had even mentioned that he might join if it wasn’t too much trouble.

After a stern reminder from my mother to be home before sundown and double - triple - checking that I did in fact have bear spray in my car, I was finally off to see my friends.

Hambone had a roaring fire going already, cases of drinks sat around his car in stacks with bags of fried food and stuff to make smores. There were a few kids I didn't recognize present, friends from Hambone’s homeschooling co-op I assumed, and Ryan and Brendon as well.

“Am I seriously the last one here?” I shouted as I sauntered down toward the group. A radio was blasting the Ramones and I had never felt so at home away from Jersey.

“Yeah, loser, get over here!” Hambone greeted me with a hug and an open beer in my hands. “Do NOT tell your mom I have these.”

“Duh.”

“And also do not drive home drunk.”

“Again, duh.”

We went around the circle, the two unfamiliars introducing themselves as Shaun and Tim, and recalling various moments from our semesters and swapping stories.

“OMG no, but Frank, has to put up with whatshisface in bio every day, i definitely don't envy you even if my lab partner sucks like, he was so rude to you the first week!” Ryan exclaimed.

“Oh he’s fine, we’re friends now. I think," I muttered the last part before taking a sip of my drink.

“Who’s this?” Hambone asked.

“Just my dumb lab partner. Gerard Way, he’s like the most aloof guy in school and of course I, the new kid, get stuck with him halfway through the semester. We had a weird introduction for sure," I told everyone.

“Gerard… Way? Huh.” Hambone’s tone had gone strangely sharp and he fixed his eyes on the fire.

“You know him?”

“Nah. Just know of him.”

Cryptic. The fuck?

Shaun chose that moment to cut in.

“Well, at least your lab partner isn’t your mom. Homeschool is great and all, the flexibility rocks, but sometimes I kinda wish I could go to classes with other people. Well, more than just these doofuses,” said Shaun as he shoulder bumped Tim.

“Alright,” Ryan piped up, “enough chat about school. I say… truth or dare?”

And that was when the party descended into chaos. By the time brendon had been dared to put his feet in the freezing ocean and Tim had had to shotgun a beer, I was nearly in the sand laughing. When Bren dared me to kiss hambone, I nearly choked, before declaring I was going for a walk down the beach.

“Mind if I join?” Hambone said, sidling up next to me.

“Sure.”

“How’s it compare to the Jersey shore?”

“Eh,” I said, laughing a little.

“So…”

“So what’s your deal with Gerard?”

Hambone’s face got pink and he turned to look at the waves.

“You noticed that, huh?”

“Dude. C’mon. I have eyes. So what is it? He your ex?”

“Oh God no! No no no, just uh… honestly, i don't even know,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, for not knowing, you sure had a strong reaction," I pointed out.

“Yeah. I guess… ok so, promise no judgement?”

“Sure, of course,” I said, now intrigued as to where this could possibly be going.

“Alright so, it’s kind of one of those things that… you know when your parents tell you to stay away from someone cuz they’re a troublemaker or something? And it's usually just because they've got like, beef with the kid’s parents?”

“You're describing every jersey mom ever, yes, go on.” Hambone laughed.

“Right well, that’s kind of been going on in this town but for like… decades. And the troublesome kid on the block has always been the Way family.”

Oh. Shit. That was interesting.

“So, what its like urban legend stuff? Do they live in, like a haunted house or some shit? Cuz that’s fucking cool.”

“Hah, honestly, the way the story goes, that’s more believable.”

I found myself even more intrigued, stepping closer to my friend as the cold wind bit. We were a good way from the fire now.

“What's the story?”

Hambone’s face looked a little pinker and I was trying to believe it was from the temperature and not my closer proximity.

“Basically, it goes that the Way family showed up in Forks when it was first established. And someone saw something… unnatural about them. It ranges from killing livestock to killing a person to inhuman-like strength and shit depending who you ask, but basically, the old settlers were wary of them. They struck a deal, saying that as long as they never did any harm to anyone in the town, then they would keep their secret from newcomers. The town grew, the Way family stayed, and only the descendants of those original settlers know ‘the Truth’ capital T,” he finished the story laughing to himself. “It’s ridiculous, but my mom is one of those descendants and she’s a massive history buff in regards to this town. So I grew up with all the creepy old wives tales. And even though there’s literally no reason for it, and even though she doesn't believe anything weird, she still told me to keep away from the Way kids.”

My head had started to spin as Hambone told his story. It was ridiculous, preposterous, exactly the kind of small town urban legend I expected and yet…

Why did gooseflesh break out all over my body at the mention of the word “inhuman”?

Why was there a voice in my head telling me that there was more truth to Hambone’s story than he thought?

“Crazy stuff, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” replied, “crazy.”

Chapter Text

The break passed in a gray sleet filled blur. Most days were spent indoors with hot coffee and cheap holiday cookies with friends or just mom, watching movies, playing video games, practicing the guitar…

And trying desperately not to think about Gerard Way.

Ever since the awkward yet intriguing conversation I'd shared with Hambone on the beach, I found myself drifting off to thoughts of the strange town folklore and how it might relate to my enigmatic classmate. While friends and family kept me distracted through Christmas and the new year, as the last week of break passed with no holidays or parties to pull my focus, I couldn't keep my mind away.

It was late the night of January ninth, one week before school would start back, and I was trying to stay on task practicing guitar. After our debut at the winter dance, Hayley, Jon, Spence, Ryan, and I had actually decided to maybe make our band more official. The school had even reached out to us about playing for prom in April. We had created a group text, shared song ideas, and Hayley had even suggested creating some original material.

It was the best thing I could've hoped for.

And yet I couldn't keep my brain on the song Hayley had sent us all to learn.

I was staring down my laptop, open on the desk, with the Google search bar mocking me.

This had been a recurring theme in the days following the new year. I would open the damn thing, I would go to Google. I would stare. I would think. I would remember the words Hambone had said, about supernatural beings and I would picture Gerard. His inhumanly beautiful face, those eyes, the strange way he talked sometimes with phrases or infections that felt out of place with the seventeen year old I saw.

I would type “Forks, Washington urban legends history” into the bar.

And then I'd delete it and go focus on something else.

But that night… something was different. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the extra sugar I'd consumed, snagging the last of the holiday cookies and scarfing them down. Maybe it was just my insatiable curiosity finally getting the better of me.

I set the guitar aside. I went to the laptop. I typed.

I hit search.

At first, it was a lot of nothing. Wikipedia articles about the town, history records of its settlement, the native tribes of the area, climate reports and wildlife information. Then there were bullshit stories from campers and hikers about Bigfoot or cryptids in the forest. Nothing like the story Hambone had shared.

I had nearly given up on scrolling and clicking when I saw it.

“The Cold Ones: Untold Stories of the Settlers of Forks,” I murmured to myself clicking on the shopping link that displayed a book. It was by a local author, living in Port Angeles.

Which was, consequently, the only town with a book shop carrying said book. An hour drive away…

“Let's see if you’re worth the drive,” I muttered, scrolling to the description.

‘Author Isabella S. details the untold origins of the township of Forks, Washington, including urban legend, folklore, and real stories of the town's oldest families. Through compelling interviews and extensive research, S. delivers what history books cannot tell in regards to the haunting beginnings of this unassuming town.’

As if in a trance, I grabbed my phone, eyes roving the description one more time. I dialed Ryan and let it ring, looking again at the cover of the book and the name of the shop.

“Dude, what do you want, it's so late,” Ryan grouched over the phone.

“Shut up, you weren't asleep, you were texting Bren mushy shit.”

Silence.

“OK what do you want, asshole.”

Called it.

“Wannt make a trip to Port Angeles with me tomorrow?”

~

Port Angeles was smaller than Belleville in population by over ten thousand people. Compared to Forks, it was a booming metropolis.

The sidewalks were slushy with snow melting in the freezing rain that had just started to fall. Ryan and I found a coffee shop first because if I was about to delve into the potentially factual supernatural history of the town I now lived in, I was going to need caffeine.

A lot of caffeine.

“So, dude, I've been writing some stuff and I think it could be cool to pitch some original stuff at next band practice. You got anything?” Ryan’s question, thankfully, dragged my mind off its current track of mystical dread.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of my tattered little notebook full of lyrics and chords and scraps of guitar riffs. “I got some stuff. You said there’s a music shop here? Would be great to pick up some strings and stuff.”

“Hell yeah, I hate waiting for shipping at home. Wanna go after your weird book shop thing?” I rolled my eyes.

“Eh, nah we can go to the music shop first,” I said.

We downed the rest of our coffee and wandered the cold soggy streets until we found the store. An old school red neon sign reading “Pop’s Music” shone over the brick facade and inside was like stepping back in time. The shop was full of antique looking instruments, walls were painted in baby blues and yellows, every surface cluttered with various paraphernalia for sale.

It was perfect.

Ryan and I browsed for a good two hours, the owner clearly recognizing him and letting us play some of the less expensive guitars on the floor. It wasn't until I checked the clock on the wall and saw it was already 3:30 I remembered what I'd come here for.

“Hey man, mind if I duck out?” I interrupted Ryan tuning some vintage Gibson the owner had allowed him to play. Apparently Ryan visited and called this place enough that he was a trusted customer.

“Oh yeah, your weird book thing, yeah sure dude, do what you gotta,” he said absentmindedly, “you still wanna meet at that spot for dinner later? It's like the only good Italian food you'll find in this area.”

Good Italian food was a weakness for me and Ryan knew it.

“Duh I do, see you there around like 4:30?”

A thumbs up was my response and gave my goodbyes to the owner before shuffling out into the damp air. The shop was only a five minute walk and the dark clouds, while looming, didn't promise a downpour that quickly.

Port Angeles Books was, similar to Pop's, an old fashioned brick and mortar bookshop. Old green shaded librarian lamps sat on the small tables that were situated between cluttered shelves. I scoured until I found the section titled History, roving past titles until I found the correct author.

The Cold Ones by Isabella S.

There was only one copy.

Either this was a hot commodity, or it was so full of mumbojumbo that only some kind of crazy conspiracy theorist would buy it.

I swallowed my pride and grabbed the book.

The girl at the counter looked to be college age, not much older than me despite the height. I tried to ignore that literally everyone was taller than me.

“Hi, find everything ok?” she said sweetly, her smile creasing her chocolate colored eyes.

“Uh, yup, just this,” I scooched the book across the counter. Hopefully this girl wouldn't judge my choice too harshly. Maybe she would just think I was a nerd with a curiosity for local lore.

That's what I kept telling myself as I dove further into this rabbit hole, at least.

“Aw, great choice,” she said as she scanned my book. I perked up.

“You read it?”

“Yeah, I know the author,” she said, “$11.43, by the way.” I handed over the cash.

“So is it, uh, good? Like did you find it… educational?” The girl gave a small laugh as she counted out my change.

“Yes and no,” she said, “its folklore really, so educational as far as stories and legends go. But its great. Like our own weird mythology you could say.”

“Are you from Forks?”

“Yeah, used to live there! Moved for college. You?”

“Just moved from Jersey,” I said taking the bag now containing my book and change.

“Wow, hell of a move. Well, can I give you a piece of advice…?” She trailed off with a meaningful look.

“Oh, uh, Frank, I'm Frank,” I provided.

“Frank,” she said, “some advice, be careful in the woods, especially after dark. Not everything in the book is complete fable. There are dangerous things out there, so be safe. Especially if you're new to this area.”

“Ah, you are the second person to warn me about this stuff,” I said thinking of my mom. “Don't worry, I've got a healthy fear of big things with teeth that hide in the woods.”

The girl gave me an odd look, half smiling and half like she was trying to read my mind.

“Well, good to hear! Be safe and welcome to the Pacific Northwest,” she said cheerfully.

“Thank you, uh,” I trailed off, prompting for a name in return.

“Oh, call me Ness,” she said.

“Ness, short for Vanessa?”

“Sure, we'll go with that.”

With that, I turned to leave shaking my head at the absurdity of everything that was my life at that moment.

Chapter Text

From the moment I exited the bookstore, all I wanted was to crack my new purchase open and start reading. I had always enjoyed a good book, but there was something more about this - it was like scratching an itch, feeding a craving.

Ryan had texted to let me know he was still at the shop but would be ready to go whenever I was. I messaged back telling him to take his time and headed back to the coffee shop we had started at. The barista from before was still there and recognized me, asking if I wanted the same as earlier.

With another steaming black coffee in hand, I found a nice corner with a chair and broke into my new book.

Every word seemed to tickle at the back of my mind, teasing that place that said “this is familiar, you know this is real.”

No matter how badly rationality told me it wasn’t.

One passage detailed a story handed down through the family of the town’s earliest settlers. It spoke of a group of newcomers who had arrived in the woods one day, each with ethereal beauty and dark black eyes. One of the men in the community had approached them, intending to learn of their intentions. They were polite, well mannered, and shook the man’s hand. He later reported to his family that the newcomer’s skin was uncommonly cold, like ice. That night, the man’s wife awoke to see her husband outside the home, the mysterious group surrounding him like animals with their faces covered in blood - his blood - their eyes no longer black but crimson. Fleeing with her children, the woman made certain to forever warn all others of the mysterious “cold ones” who might stalk the woods.

Another passage told a similar tale, only this one sounded closer to the one Hambone had told. A family had arrived in Forks one day, bearing the same icy skin and inhuman beauty of the other cold ones from before. The townspeople were wary, yet these creatures were different. Their eyes were not black, nor crimson, but gold. Claiming to be friendly and desiring peace, they agreed to live on the edges of the village and swore that they would never feed on the blood of a human. The leader agreed but they were never allowed in town.

The passage did not mention the family name of this group. Something inside me thought it was probably Way…

My eyes were magnetized to one detail, though.

Their eyes were the color of gold.

I had only ever met one person with eyes like that, with unnatural beauty.
Time passed and it wasn't until the barista approached me to tell me they were closing that I noticed I had nearly finished the book and the sun was nearly down.

Another thing about being this far north - in the winter the sun sets at nearly 3 PM some days.

“Shit,” I muttered, scrambling out the door and texting my mom to let her know I was fine. Fortunately, she’d amended her curfew rule since I would be in another town with a friend. Said friend, however, was probably wondering where the hell I was.

As I powerwalked back toward Pop’s, I started to get the feeling something was off. A group of loud men a couple blocks back had been jeering everyone who walked past, yet two of them had seen fit to stagger after me when I had brushed by.

The hair on my neck prickled as I heard their footsteps on the wet pavement, definitely still behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw two stocky men just ten steps behind. One yelled something at me and the other laughed, their staggering steps quickening to catch upi to me. I didn't catch what was said through the roaring of mounting adrenaline in my ears. Just as I was about to duck into the first open building to escape them though, a loud revving sound ripped through the night.

And there was that incredibly recognizable black trans am tearing up the street I had just crossed, nearly wiping out my stalkers. Both men jumped back, yelling loudly at the driver.

The driver, who was rolling down the passenger window.

“Get in,” Gerard Way’s honey smooth voice commanded.

I didn’t think. I tore open the door and got in.

“Are you ok?” he demanded as he sped off again.

“Uh,” I said intelligently. This felt like a fever dream. Gerard Way had just sped in, my metaphorical knight in shiny car to deter my stalkers and he was sitting here with me in said car looking every bit like a model, asking if I was ok.

I probably needed to say more than “uh.”

“I’m, um, I’m fine, are you ok?” His grip on the steering wheel was tense to say the least.

“Hah,” he barked coldly, “no, not exactly. Where are we going?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell me where to go, tell me something anything, i can still here what that loser was thinking -”

“I’m sorry, you what?!”

“- and i need you to distract me ok? Say something, anything just keep me from going back there and tearing the shit out of him,” Gerard finished with a note of what was almost anguish in his voice.

“uh, “ I said again, still dumbfounded and desperately trying to see if i had hit my head at some point in the evening.

“You’re off to a great start,” Gerard teased, his voice still tense.

“Well i managed to turn you off of homicide and to jokes at my expense, so yes, I am,” I attempted to joke back. “Pop’s, can you take me to Pop’s Music Store? Ryan should be there waiting.” Gerard gave a terse nod and his shoulders relaxed infinitesimally.

At the speed he was going, it was seconds before we were pulling up outside the store, the red glow of Pop’s neon sign reflecting off the hood. Ryan barreled out as I approached and grabbed me in a hug.

“Dude, what the hell?! I’ve been worried sick, do you ever check your phone? You - oh. Uh. Oh…” Ryan’s tirade trailed off as he took in my companion who was exiting the car. Gerard smiled and sauntered around the side, looking calm and elegant, not at all the tense mess he’d been a moment before.

“H-hi Gerard,” Ryan stammered, cheeks flushing just a tad. Even as smitten as he was with Brendon, it seemed no one was immune to Gerard Way’s ethereal face.

“Hi, Ryan isn't it?” Ryan’s cheeks only got redder as he nodded. “Sorry to worry you, I simply ran into Frank and we lost track of time,” Gerard lied so sweetly even I believed him. “If you don't mind, I'd be happy to take him home after I make sure he gets some dinner. I wouldn’t want to delay you, Frank says you'd intended to be on your way sooner than this,” Gerard said kindly and Ryan simply nodded again even more dumbstruck.

I knew how this sounded to him.

I was going to have dinner alone with Gerard.

Ryan's eyes grew wide and locked with mine as that realization seemed to fully dawn on him, too.

“Oh, yeah, totally of course,” he said, giving me a pointed glare, “Frank and I can catch up tomorrow, right Frank?” The manic gleam in my friend's eyes said I was getting interrogated tomorrow…

“Yeah, dude, see you tomorrow,” I said, resigned to my fate. Our whole friend group would know about this before I even got home, I knew it…

“Details later, I swear to God,” Ryan hissed in my ear and he gave me a quick hug goodbye.

Rolling my eyes, I watched my friend depart before turning my gaze back to my unexpected dinner companion.

Oh God.

I was really about to go have dinner alone with Gerard.

Gerard, who had been a mixed bag our whole first month knowing each other, before turning into a pleasant classmate and possible friend. Who always acted so… just left of normal. Who was gorgeous and had definitely just saved me from who knows what.

Who I had absolutely just been suspecting of supernatural activity…

Wow what was I doing!?

“So,” I said, internally wincing at the way my voice cracked, “dinner?”

Gerard gave a crooked kind of smile and opened the passenger door for me.

“I know a decent spot, as long as Italian is ok with you?” I scoffed a little, climbing in.

“You do know my last name, right? I was raised on Italian,” I joked, trying to melt a little of the tension. It seemed to work slightly as Gerard had returned to the cool and distant demeanor he typically adopted at school.

For some reason, I found myself wanting his earlier enraged disposition back. At least for that moment he had shown another side of himself. That there was more to him than what I was used to seeing in biology.

My thoughts jolted back to the immediate present as we peeled out of the spot in front of Pop’s, setting a breakneck speed through the quiet streets of Port Angeles.

“Dude! Speed limit, ever heard of it?!” I exclaimed as I caught a glimpse of the speedometer, where the needle was hovering around 85 MPH.

“Don’t worry I've never been pulled over,” Gerard said calmly.

“Not exactly what I'm worried about.”

“I’ve also never been in an accident.”

“There’s a first time for everything!”

“Oh look, we’re here,” he cut me off with a tad too much satisfaction in his voice. We had, indeed, just pulled up in front of what appeared to be a charming little restaurant called Mario’s and Gerard made an absolute show of flawlessly parallel parking - a feat I still couldn’t manage.

In a surprising display of chivalry, Gerard walked with graceful speed to the passenger door and opened it for me as I was fumbling with my seatbelt.

“Shall we?” he asked. I simply got out and started walking toward the warm glow of hanging lights on the outdoor dining area.

The interior was cozily lit, candles on each table, the sounds of Andrea Boccelli singing softly in the background, and the scent of garlic and olive oil filled the air. Our hostess looked ready to pass out at the mere sight of Gerard, her face falling ever so slightly when he requested a table for two.

I was glad that the world was progressive enough that this girl assumed two men would be on a date together, even if the thought of the word ‘date’ in reference to Gerard Way and me had my stomach doing all kinds of interesting things.

With every step towards our table those things became more and more violent, the butterflies that normally hit me around Gerard feeling like they had opened the largest mosh pit ever in my stomach.

Date… was this a date? Not twenty minutes ago I had been moments away from getting jumped by randos on the street and now I was possibly on a date… Except it wasn’t. Right? It couldn't be, you have to be asked out to go on a date a Gerard had certainly never done that. Hell, he had politely turned down my invitation to the dance in December! But this place was clearly a date spot, the dozens of tables all set up for two, with nice linens and candles in the center. Nearly every one we passed was paired off with someone who they held hands with across the table or gazed at with some level of desire.

To anyone else, Gerard and I here together looked like two boys on a date…

What was happening?!

We took our seats across from each other at a cozy booth, secluded in a corner away from other patrons and Gerard immediately ordered water for us both and a coke for me.

He was ordering for me… The waitress all but cooed at his chivalry.

“Uh…” I started as the waitress left, trying to find a way to ask what the hell was going on.

“Apologies, I actually don't know if you prefer coke, I just figured something with some sugar in it might be good since you looked a little pale?”

I let out a snort which caused Gerard to lift an eyebrow in question.

“Nothing, just,” I shook my head a little feeling utterly absurd, “that’s kinda hypocritical coming from you? You being one of the palest people I know. Not in a bad way! Just… I would think you’d know whether I'm like about to faint as opposed to me just being naturally pasty.”

Gerard huffed a small laugh.

“I supposed you have a point,” he said, “I just worried since that… ordeal with those guys back there, you might be a little unwell. Shocked.”

“If I'm being honest, not much happened since you showed up at the perfect time,” I said, taking the chance to segue into a point that had been burning in my head since Gerard had picked me up. “However, you seemed even more agitated by those guys back there than me, care to share why?”

Gerard lowered his eyes, black lashes fanning over his porcelain cheeks, as he folded his elegant fingers together under his chin.

No.

Absolutely not.

He may have brushed me off about the van, gaslit me to the moon and back, but not this time. He had said it himself in the car -

“You said you heard what they were thinking,” I stated.

“Did I?” his voice was low and velvety, a dangerous undertone daring me to ask more. I took a deep breath.

“You did. You -”

At that moment, with possibly the worst timing ever, the waitress appeared with our drinks and asked if we were ready to order. Realizing I hadn't even looked at the menu and desperately wanting to get back the conversation, I floundered for a moment.

“The mushroom ravioli is vegetarian and quite good I hear,” Gerard murmured, finally lifting his golden eyes to look at me.

Something about remembering I was vegetarian made my heart flutter and stomach leap. Which was ridiculous. But it was happening regardless.

“That sounds great, then,” I said.

“Make that two,” Gerard said and the waitress took note before leaving.

“As I was saying…” I trailed off, making sure the waitress was out of earshot. “You said earlier, and I quote, ‘I can still hear what that loser is thinking.’ What the hell did you mean?”

If Gerard was put off by my claim, he didn’t show it. His face remained perfectly neutral, hypnotic eyes locked with mine. I held the staredown, refusing to accept deflection or an excuse this time.

He was going to explain.

“And no telling me I’m imagining. I didn't hit my head this time. Or last time, if we’re being honest,” I said pointedly just to remind him that, no, the van incident hadn't left my mind either.

My words didn’t have much effect externally. Gerard didn’t flinch, his stillness almost unnatural.

After what felt like an eternity, so long I genuinely thought I was losing myself in that amber colored stare, Gerard leaned slightly forward.

“Ok,” he said softly, “I’ll explain.”

I nearly leapt from excitement.

“On one condition.”

Fuck. Of course.

“I’m listening,” I sighed. I was met with a devastatingly charming smile.

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

That gave me pause.

“Yours? What questions do you have that I'm gonna be able to answer?”

“You’d be surprised. So…” he gazed up from under his lashes, the epitome of pleading, “what do you say?”

Maybe Gerard was right and I did need to eat because suddenly the room felt like it was spinning and my head felt light. Was this it? Was this my chance? There weren’t any downsides I could see, there were no questions about my life that would yield dangerous or incriminating answers - I wasn't exactly a fascinating person.

“Fine, agreed. But I go first,” I said. Gerard tilted his head in consideration.

Seriously, why was everything this boy did so beautiful…

“Deal.”

It was one of those moments where all options become available and so none of them stuck in my mind. I could ask any question I wanted and suddenly I couldn't think of one. Luckily, my wordless grasping for what to ask first was interrupted by the arrival of our dinner.

The overwhelming smell of garlic butter and mushroom hit my nose and I was immediately reminded that all my stomach had had that day was coffee. Taking the chance to think up my first question, I dug into the pasta.

Notably, Gerard went through the motions of unfolding his napkin and gracefully pushing his fork about on his plate whilst taking occasional sips of water, although it didn’t look like it was going down much if at all.

After clearing half my plate, I set my fork aside and looked up to find Gerard’s eyes still fixed on me.

“So, um,” I started, swallowing hard, “ok question one: what the hell did you mean about hearing thoughts earlier?” There was a heavy pause as Gerard contemplated my question with an almost resigned expression. Just as I was beginning to think he would back out and not answer me, he spoke.

“I can read every mind in this room, except yours.”

Well.

Wasn’t that some kind of Professor X bullshit.

I followed Gerard’s gaze to some of the other restaurant goers he was glancing at.

“Money,” he said looking at a dark haired man in jeans and a blazer. “Sex,” he said looking at the woman across from him. “Hm, money again,” this time about the bartender in the adjoining section. “Cat,” he said with a slight chuckle looking at a young man in a sweater vest. “But you…” he looked back at me, “nothing.”

What the fuck.

“What’s wrong with me?” I said to myself, feeling utterly perplexed. Seriously, why was I the odd one out?

“I tell you I can read minds,” Gerard began, sounding incredulous, “and you ask what's wrong with you? You are fascinating…”

I felt my face go up in flames.

“Well, it’s more annoying because now I can't tell if you're telling the truth.”

“Our waitress is about to come and ask how we’re doing.”

Not ten seconds after the words left his lips, the young woman approached to ask how we were doing. With a few pleasantries exchanged she left and a chill ran down my spine.

“O… ok, that doesn't prove anything, waitresses are always checking in like that,” I deflected.

“True,” Gerard said mildly, still glancing where the young server had gone to stand by the bar and pull out her phone.

“Well, now she just got a text from her friend,” Gerard continued as he kept a contemplative stare locked on her. “Hm, seems her best friend’s boyfriend cheated. She’s going to start fuming at the bartender there.”

Sure enough, as Gerard spoke the words, the girl’s face turned angry and red before she slammed the phone down on the bar next to her and hissed, “Lenny, you’re not going to believe this, oh my God, I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” The older woman down the other end of the bar frowned at her language but the girl seemed unperturbed.

My whole body felt ice cold.

That had been… unless I was part of the most elaborate prank ever and there were camera crews hiding somewhere, Gerard had actually just…

Gerard had just… read her mind.

Suddenly, the last few ravioli in my bowl didn’t look so appetizing anymore. I couldn’t think about eating when my stomach was a ball of snakes, twisting and coiling with emotions i could not begin to place.

It was shocking. Impossible.

Incredible.

Like something out of a comic book or sci-fi film.

Gerard Way could read minds.

Except mine.

“You’re unnerved,” Gerard said with a tone that suggested deep sadness. “I apologize, I-”

“No!” I cut him off. “No, oh my God, I’m - ok yeah, I’m shocked for sure but, but… but this is incredible. This is like… like the craziest thing ever and I am not completely convinced this is real life.” My rambling drew one of those positively adorable giggles from Gerard and I felt my stomach loosen as my heart melted.

Even with his weird superpower, he was painfully endearing.

“I’m relieved,” he admitted.

“Oh?”

Gerard paused to flag a waiter down for our bill and a take away box before turning his eyes back to me with such intensity I felt my whole face burn a little.

“I am relieved because," he trailed off and paused for a beat before fixing me with a stare so entrancing I thought the world had tilted on it's axis.

"I no longer have the strength to stay away from you," he admitted and I thought my heart was going to just revolt and stop right there. Because what the hell kind of romance novel worthy confession was that.

I nearly asked as much out loud. Instead what came out was -

“Y-you. You don’t… the… huh?”

Another beautiful half smile was what I got before the waiter brought the bill. Gerard swiftly passed over what looked like an AmEx Black card before gracefully boxing the remains of my dinner and the entirety of his.

“You… weren’t hungry?” His movements paused as he met my eye again, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Not really, no,” he said simply, “Just wanted to make sure you ate. You look less ready to faint on me now,” he joked.

“You’re one to talk,” I muttered, mind still reeling from his previous statement but unsure how to circle back to it.

What did he mean “the strength to stay away from me”? Had that been hard? He’d been repulsed by me at first! And sure, a tentative friendship had formed but he’d certainly had no qualms politely refusing my invitation to the Winter Dance.

Did this… mean that Gerard wanted to be around me? In some capacity?

My brain continued to spin in circles as he led us back to the car. There was the start of a cold rain, where the drops felt like mist but I knew by the time we returned to Forks, it would be a downpour. I shivered as my damp skin was hit with the car's AC and Gerard immediately turned the heat up.

As I buckled my seatbelt, I finally let the curiosity and burning desire for an answer bubble over.

“Ok, so earlier you said -”

“Ah, ah,” Gerard admonished with a teasing light in his eyes as we backed out of the parking spot. “I believe it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

My face, for the umpteenth time that evening, felt like it had been lit on fire. What in the world was he going to ask? What could he possibly want to know? I wasn’t exactly a person who carried much shame but for some reason… The idea of opening up to Gerard, letting him get to know me, made me antsy. The reason was probably more to do with the ‘why’ and less with the ‘what’. If this boy wanted to know my favorite colors or what band posters hung in my room or which cereal I had for breakfast, well, I didn't really care. But if he wanted to know those things because… what, he cared about me? In some way? Well, that was a whole mess of feelings i just couldn’t be fucked to unpack right then…

“Ok, shoot,” I said as calmly as physically possible, as if the the most gorgeous boy I had ever laid eyes on who had definitely been sending mixed signals wasn't about to question me potentially for the purposes of knowing me better because he might like me.

“Excellent,” Gerard replied, flashing those small, almost too white teeth in a gleeful smile. I felt my heart kick up one more notch. “Why move to Forks?”

Huh. How to answer that one.

“Well, why not,” I said, only slightly deflecting. Did I want to spill my guts about how my parents were divorced and my dad kinda sucked and my new stepmom was just a little homophobic and -

“That’s hardly an answer,” Gerard chided not unkindly.

“I mean… my mom lives here,” I replied, “without my dad as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She moved here after they split.”

“And you stayed with your father?”

“Yup, she didn't wanna uproot a middle school kid and move him to the other side of the country. So mom left and I saw her on holidays. Usually.” A bitter edge had crept into my voice. “Wish she had stayed in Jersey, but that’s just the way it worked out.”

“So why choose to come here now? Did you not like New Jersey?”

“Oh no fucking way, I love New Jersey,” I stated so emphatically that Gerard’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it's nothing special. Gritty and grimy in a lot of places but fuck it that isn’t the best. The punk scene is amazing. I was trying to form a band before I left but…”

“No luck?” Gerard sounded genuinely curious.

“Let’s just say my stepmom has shit timing,” I said.

“I see, so did she encourage this move for you?” Oh boy, we were going there then.

“Yes and no,” I began, bracing myself to stay as calm as possible. “She… she runs this stupid travel blog… thing. The type of website only bored, rich, suburban moms visit. Whatever. And she has lots of money, probably why dad married her.”

Gerard remained quiet, his silence prompting me to continue.

For some reason, I did. It was… surprisingly easy to talk to him. I decided not to dwell on that too hard. I hadn't opened up about most of this to people and it felt strangely good to let it out.

“Anyway,” I kept talking, “she hated the band idea for me. Gave me hell whenever I'd invited friends over to practice so rehearsing was tough. Finally, she decided last year she wanted to do this big year abroad and go like, tour the world with dad for her blog… Dad seemed excited and I didn't wanna force him to say no and stay home with me. Would’ve just given her more reasons to subtly dislike me,” I sighed heavily thinking about the really big reason she didn't like me. The reason that, ironically, had a lot to do with the gorgeous boy sitting next to me.

“Your stepmother wasn’t fond of you?” he inquired gently after i’d left the silence just a hair too long.

“Real Cinderella situation,” I joked and Gerard huffed the smallest laugh, clearly not satisfied with that response. “No. She didn’t. She thinks I need to… fix myself.” My face scrunched involuntarily at the echo of those words she had used.

“Fix..?”

"Y'know... my preferences. The... team I bat for?"

Gerard remained in perplexed silence.

“I’m gay,” I blurted. “I’m… into boys, obviously, I figured you would have noticed.” Considering I asked you to a dance and we essentially just went on a dinner date and I was blushing like a 1950s teenage girl, I thought but did not say.

“Oh. Yes, well, I sort of figured, I was more confused about why that was something that would require fixing,” Gerard said with a bit more bite in his tone.

“Not a fan of the homophobes?” I asked rhetorically.

“Hardly. Seeing as I'm not exactly heterosexual myself,” he threw me a sideways smirk that nearly stopped my heart. “I figured you would have noticed,” he parroted.

Well, now, wasn't that just… something.

At that moment with my face borderline in flames, I figured I was warm enough and reached for the knob to adjust the temperature. Except Gerard seemed to have the same idea.

For one scant moment, our fingers brushed before his hand snapped back to the steering wheel. I fought the urge to let my own hand recoil.

Gerard’s fingers were fucking freezing.

“Poor circulation or something?” I asked because I could not keep from acting like a moron apparently.

“Or something,” Gerard replied stiffly.

Our ride continued in stilted silence until we approached the corner by the hospital and noticed -

“Hey, that's mom’s cruiser, what the hell?”

“Would you like me to bring you to her?”

“Yeah, please,” I said and Gerard turned into the parking lot.

There, in the lobby of the hospital, was my mom and Dr. Way and half a dozen people with cameras and notepads.

“Mama, what's happening?” She whipped around in surprise to see me there and wrapped me in a big hug immediately.

“Frankie, baby, oh i’m so glad you’re safe, I was just about to head home but…”

“Mother, what’s going on?’ Gerard asked his own parent in the room. Dr. Way gave a long sigh.

“There’s been another death. Animal attack we assume but we can’t figure out what. The body was… well…” she gave her son a meaningful look and Gerard’s face hardened.

“Gerard, I wasn't expecting to see you with Frank, were you on their little excursion today?” Mom asked.

“No, ma’am,” he replied, the picture of respect, "I simply ran into Frank and Ryan later and invited Frank for dinner before bringing him home myself.” Mom took immediate notice of his words and how he had only invited me before giving me one of her “we’ll talk later” looks.

Great. Not even a mangled body could deter mom from interest in my dating life.

“Well, thank you for bringing him back safely, I've got him from here. Frankie, just give me five minutes to wrap up here and we’ll be on our way.

Documents were brought out and signed, notes taken from all the hospital staff who had seen the victim. I overheard small details and the general consensus was that the body had been torn to bits, almost beyond recognition. Whatever had done this was possibly rabid and would need to be put down somehow.

As mom exchanged final words with Dr. Way, both she and Gerard bade us goodnight and we headed home.

Tired and stressed, mom gave me another giant hug and said goodnight almost as soon as we were in the door.

Despite the events of the day, though, I was far from exhausted.

I cracked open my laptop and my new book, put my headphones on with my favorite playlist on loop, and settled in for a long few hours.

I had research to do.