Before Killing Was Cool ➊ FRERARD

6: The Humble Abode Of A Recluse

"Too late," Mikey grits out under his breath, thinking the police officer won't hear.

He does. "One more bit of advice, Michael: Don't fall into the wrong crowd because they ain't gonna catch you when you do." At this, he pockets his notepad and pen, giving Mikey a last hard stare before he gets up and leaves.

Mikey holds his head in his hands as the rest of the boys come in and crowd around him, laughing lightly and ruffling his hair. "What a pig," Darren refers to the cop between sniggers, "you didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't know," Mikey twitters, anxious that his brother will somehow find out and be more to disappointed with him, "I didn't think the police would get involved. Maybe I should—"

"Mikes, you're a fourteen-year-old who tried to steal alcohol from a corner shop." An arm is slung around his shoulder. "It's a start."

"Start to what?" He worries. He receives no reply.

>

Present Day - Frank

The second night I spend on the run is not in a filthy motel with my muscles tensed up because of the probable manhunt after yours truly - it's at the home of the only person in the world I can trust, even if I'm a wanted 'psychopath'.

I thought he was dead, Ray Toro, after he vanished months ago into the country somewhere, after being framed for the murder of some guy called Bob Bryar. I know Ray well enough to know he wouldn't do something like that. He called me the day after he went on the run, promising everything would be alright, that he wouldn't leave me to deal with the bullies on my own forever, that he'd return. He never did, but he gave me an address in case I ever decided to skip town.

I really thought he was dead - the cops announced it officially, body found, the whole shebang. Stepping foot inside the seemingly vacant little shack of a house with Gerard, no longer cuffed, in my grip, I still believed it.

Until now, because Ray Toro is standing in front of me.

"You're alive." I choke out and he nods with a smile and runs a hand through his brunette Afro.

"My humble abode, where I've been hiding out since I escaped," he announces and gestures to the sofa in the living room, the kitchen behind a small red door, the hallway, leading to a bathroom and two bedrooms, no staircase, "and nobody's found me yet. They don't even chase me for paying for this place, we're so far in the middle of nowhere. It's totally abandoned. I was wondering when you'd show - I heard everything on the news."

"What have they been saying?" I ask tentatively; the questions come flooding to my head.

"Well, I haven't seen much, just that you committed mass murder and... you know." He shrugs. "But I promised I'd stick by you no matter what so you're always welcome here. You and your... friend." He's reluctant to call Gerard a hostage. Every word he says, I become more shocked.

A twang of anger pinches a vein in my neck. "Stick by me? You let me think you were dead. I showed up here because I thought it'd be a safe house with no-one in it, but you - you've been here this whole time. Couldn't you get a burner phone and call? I shot up my school because I thought I was alone!"

Gerard shifts beside me, and I swear I feel him pressing into my side. "Frank," he mumbles like it's supposed to do something to reassure me, ground me.

It does a little to calm me down and stop me from raising a fist to knock Ray in the teeth. I exhale and say, "Okay, that was uncalled for, I understand why you left and... God, I just never thought I'd see you again. I needed you, man; besides Pete, you're the only person still here who gives a damn about me, and you weren't there."