Frerard (One Shots / Short Stories)

Vampires Will Never Hurt You (Part 1)

Hey guys, so Part 1 has no Smut n' Stuff in it. it's just an introduction to the story and the characters.

I've tried to make it as professional as I could... well, I think it's written better than Detention Sucks... Detention Sucks was pretty rushed.

Anyway, my point is that there is no huge plot twists, car chases, explosions, etc. It's all just Getting to know the basic plot. So I hope you enjoy, leave a comment telling me what you think.

P.S. Revenge ideas are very much appreciated. My sister deleted this, I had to rewrite it all... Asshole. anyway, Hehe... Revenge.

~Gxox

Franks POV

The dim light from the slow rising sun pushed it's way through the gap between the curtains. It highlighted the mountains of clothes and empty beer cans that had deposited themselves across the raggedy, beige carpet. The damp stench of mould and stale beer was overpowering. Flashbacks of Last Night spring to mind. The beer, the clothes... and now the aftermath of what had originally been planned as a harmless night of getting a bit tipsy.

I allowed my eyes to adjust to the light, squinting. I was lying on my stomach, my small bed pushed into the corner of the relatively habitable room. I had one arm hanging off the side of my mattress limply. My head was pounding, a relatively familiar niggling and pounding from the inside of my skull felt like it was drilling it's way out. I was so thirsty, I felt as if I hadn't drank in days.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for some solid evidence of last nights escapades.

A condom wrapper.

A bottle of Jaegermeister.

An Anthrax T-Shirt.

A pair of Glasses.

I obviously didn't come home alone last night. I carefully lifted my limp arm up to rub my eyes, trying not to move too much in case I woke my guest. I sighed quietly to myself, thinking.

"Jesus Frank! You're a fucking disgrace, you know that?! You and your vile ways. God, just Go! He wouldn't want you here!"

My mothers vicious tone of voice rang through my ears. Each word she uttered was like a bullet through my chest. A clear memory of her and I standing together in a fogged, grey looking cemetery amongst rows and rows of polished stones. Each with their own unique inscription. Her hair was pinned back from her face, a thin black veil with a floral pattern fell over her face in an attempt to the redness and puffiness of her caramel-brown eyes that resembled my own so much. My fathers body lay rotting 6 foot below us in a wooden box that had been sealed shut with nails.

She was right. It was my fault. I told my Parents I was gay and it made him spiral into deep depression. He was ashamed of me. He pretended I never existed after that. He couldn't handle the Exclusion from Church, The Rumours, The Graffitied names across the outside of the house. it was too much for him to handle. He didn't want to be known as "The Man with the Fag son". That's why he did it. The Vodka, The Gun, The note... The note directed to me.

It was first thing in the morning and I was already plaguing my thoughts with guilt of my fathers death and excessive hatred towards me.

I was snapped out of my trance like daze as arms wrapped themselves around my torso and pulled me onto my side. The arms were slender and tan. I felt my guests warm torso press against my back, it felt soft and welcoming. Their breath against my neck felt warm. They let out a gentle moan and kissed the crook of my neck.

"Mornin'. How'd you sleep?" he asked in a deep, quite soothing voice.

I turned around to face him. He had straight brown hair that was currently sticking out at all angles. His eyes were a soft hazel-brown, the remains of last nights eyeliner was smudged around his eyelids.