The place is darkness - it isn't just surrounded by or smothered in darkness, the place itself is darkness, and nothing but. And the figurative and literal meanings of the previous statement can just about be used interchangeably - the denizens of the cavern seem not to believe in 21st century forms of lighting, and some are even impartial to candles.
Mikey has figured that out by now at the very least, and he is unsure as to how he feels about it - the whole underground cavern under the mausoleum thing certainly adds to the atmosphere, but he can't help but feel as if he's nothing more than a not quite living, not breathing cliché. At least, unlike his brother, he isn't going all Edward Cullen on the new guy.
Mikey reckoned dating Ray didn't count as 'Edward Cullen'ish, mainly because Ray knew who he was and everything about him - Ray knew what he was getting into and Ray, he understood, whereas Frank was just about the dictionary definition of young and naive, and unbelievably star struck for guys in dark coats with inky black hair that hadn't been washed for several years now.
'Spider boy' as Frank had called him, hated being here - underground, in this cesspit of bloodsuckers and leeches - the scum of the undead, and this village. This was the only place that he saw his brother, and in fact, until recently, Mikey had begun to believe that he never even ventured above ground, but it seemed very much so that he'd been proven wrong with the unexpected encounter at the record store, which Mikey would even go as far enough as to consider his territory, as the younger of the brothers, much preferred the record store and the company of Ray Toro to this place.
He knew enough about his asshole of a brother, though, to know that this wasn't about him, Ray, or even his relationship with Ray, which Mikey would say had to be a first; Gerard's approach to humans seemed to be fuck them and suck them... of their blood, though he was sure that Gerard wasn't exactly impartial to other forms of sucking.
It was just Gerard's 'obsession' with little naive and annoyingly ignorant Frank Iero, that seemed to set things off here - Frank wasn't safe, that was for sure, and Frank wouldn't be told otherwise than his ignorance and light heartedness was also for sure, but of course, the chances of calling Gerard off a hunt, especially when he seemed all this keen, was just about nil to none.
He'd certainly never gone as far out as to seek them out above ground and in the other end of the village - the elder Way's hunting ground seemed to be limited to the graveyard and leeching of whoever he could intimidate or trick into letting him. Gerard was certainly one of the leeches of the community, and yet with Frank he seemed to be making an actual effort.
And if Gerard wasn't a fucking heartless, filthy, bloodthirsty, hormonal bitch, and they were just normal teenagers, then perhaps Mikey would have been glad that his brother had finally taken an interest in something normal, instead of just hiding away and living off rotting 'vintage' blood from the seventeen hundreds - he called it his equivalent of wine, but I knew this was nothing but a combination of a liar and someone who thinks their brother is an idiot.
There was just the matter of what to do about this that was plaguing Mikey's mind, especially since Ray was so continually insistent in retaining Frank's 'innocence'. Mikey thought it nothing more than a stupid idea, but he didn't want to upset his boyfriend, and he settled for calming his conscience with the excuse of Frank being Ray's friend and not his own, but with the death warrant they seemed to be signing for him, Mikey was beginning to doubt that anyone was Frank's friend right now.
Of course there was the matter of what on earth they could possibly tell him; how they could explain this to him in a calm manner and ensure that he didn't do anything stupid or confrontational, which judging by the offward glare Frank had given him when the two first met, Mikey didn't exactly deem unlikely. He wouldn't exactly blame Frank, though, what easy way is there to tell someone that an unstoppable, deadly, bloodsucker is hunting you down in particular and will enjoy playing with you and fucking with you head until he finally fucks you and takes your blood like a passing gift, leaving your relatives to deal with the corpse on the bedroom floor.
Frank certainly didn't deserve that - to die, but especially the events leading up to death, and with the description he'd provided Mikey, he just couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor kid, going insane under the spell of Mikey's own sadistic older brother, whose mind worked in nothing other than the lines of lies, blood, and sex.
But this was never quite as simple as telling Gerard to stop, because Gerard was just like every other hundred year old, eternally teenage boy, in the fact that 'no' never meant 'no', only 'I'm going to try harder, because I fucking want to', and yet, despite what consequences his actions might upheld for him, Mikey felt compelled just to try, and most certainly, he wanted to make sure that he hadn't just gone down into this god forsaken, underground bloodbath of leeches for nothing.
Even if his brother would curse him to hell and back, before he could even scream back a no, and perhaps may even just get the job done quicker in response, Mikey just had to try, because then, when the two of them overlooked the dead body before they burned it away to ashes in the churchyard, Mikey could at least tell Ray that he had tried.
And perhaps then, since Frank was nothing more than a short term friend, the two of the could move on afterwards, but perhaps Mikey would never be able to look at his brother in the same way - not that they'd ever shared any look of affection, but they could even reach the stage of reluctant acceptance if 'spider boy' didn't grow some fucking balls and try.
It was such a fucking sick thing though, that most people were destined nothing but short term existences in this town, and it was fucking sick - the divide between the undead and the living, and the secrecy that surrounded it, but even Mikey 'optimistic at times' Way, couldn't quite bring himself to believe that this was ever something he could change, and most certainly not on his own.
"Oh dear Michael, would you perhaps take the courtesy as to not stare at me as if you're nothing more than some lovestruck fuckwit." The eloquence with which Gerard's dirty mouthed insults were spoken with brought even Mikey a mild amusement - even Mikey, who hated his brother's guts.
"Lovestruck fuckwit." The younger of the two brothers, but not by all that much, chuckled at that one, simply shaking his head in acknowledgement of what was perhaps a badly chosen insult on Gerard's part, as he stepped across the darkened room towards his brother, whose face, for once, was on show, and illuminated by candlelight.
"Pardon?" Gerard raised his carefully plucked eyebrows almost snobbishly, as he jumped up from the armchair he sat in; legs thrown over one arm and head laid back in entirely the wrong place.
"If anyone's the lovestruck fuckwit, then it's you." And perhaps common sense would have ensured Mikey said nothing of the like, and continued on in his well reasoned mild fear of his older brother, but it seemed to be, that by even the simple fact that he was here, his common sense was not at its best today.
Gerard laughed at that; a dry, kind of dark laugh - insanity ridden for sure, and the almost sadistic glint in his almost bright amber eyes wasn't helping appearances at all. "That's rather a preposterous conclusion to jump to, dear brother." And there came the menacing smirk, the animalistic hiss, and the baring of the fangs concealed behind chapped lips.
"Frank Iero." Mikey took a step back at his brother's gesture, because although brave, he wasn't quite stupid. "You're hunting him. You're making an effort for once, and you're messing with him. It needs to stop."
"Am I right in thinking that just a week or two ago you were down here like my grovelling mother criticising my lazy behaviour and scavenging habits?" And the truth was that, although Mikey didn't quite want to admit it, his brother wasn't wrong. "Surely, you should be proud of me. I'm making an effort."
"Leave Frank alone." His words were all but intimidating and certainly unconvincing, and so that Gerard didn't reckon it was even worth his time to stifle laughter, opting instead for a grimace, revealing a small fraction of the fangs set behind his lips.
"I thought you were busy fucking around with that Toro kid." Gerard asked, eyebrows raised, wrong impressions received entirely, and perhaps even astounded that his brother would have anything to with the weird yet amusing and oddly loveable kid he'd met in the graveyard the other day.
"Ray and I are boyfriends, Gerard." Mikey met his brother's eyes for that one, only of course managing to be at all convincing regarding his relationship status with the curly haired human he pretended not to be in fear of being publically associated with, but since Gerard was his brother, he seemed to be a different matter entirely. "Frank is my friend, and you know what, it sounds like a big ask, but I'd really rather you didn't kill him."
And then came the return of Gerard's psychotic laughter - echoing across the cavernous walls in a manner that would have intimidated Mikey if he wasn't so accustomed to his brother's arrogant scare tactics that he became concerned when he didn't want to snap his brother's neck within a minute of talking to him.
"Oh but killing him would be far too easy, and such a waste." He stepped forward to his brother at that moment, pushing his bony frame up onto his tiptoes in order to make up for the inch or so of height his brother succeeded him by. "He's such a pretty little thing, don't you think?"
"Gerard." Mikey didn't quite know what his brother was implying, but from the sounds of it, and that terribly perverse tone with which his words were spun from, it was nothing good, and perhaps even worse than whatever fuck, drain, kill routine that Gerard would have used with anyone else.
"Oh but he is, Michael." Mikey winced as his brother referred to him by his full name once more, and being the only person that did, the name was left with nothing but disgusting connotations. "He'll be a good fuck, for sure. I just have to see how compliant he seems with the whole idea and then we'll see-"
"The whole idea of what?" The younger brother interrupted with widened eyes and an expression guilty of fratricide, and a head far too eager regarding the concept.
Gerard hit him with a stern gaze, taking the whole idea of being interrupted incredibly personally, passing his brother a scowl before continuing with what he'd been saying prior. "And then we'll see whether I do need to kill him in the end, but dear Michael, I have been reading, researching, studying, and it would simply be far more efficient and undoubtedly better for the both of us if he were just to comply with my requests-"
"Gerard, this is your last fucking chance to leave him alone." Mikey stepped closer to his brother, their eyes meeting - Gerard's illuminated with the fresh blood buzzing through his veins, and Mikey's a duller brown, having not fed for several hours, and only planning to satisfy himself with some old asshole dying and fading away somewhere.
"No." His voice was firm, and most certainly sterner than Mikey's. "I most certainly will not. He'd make such a wonderful little pet."
"Pet?" Mikey exclaimed, taking Gerard's sincerity in at once, as he scanned his brain for just what the word brought to mind.
"Yes, I have done my research - I can bind him to me for entirety with some sort of ritual thing, and then I can feed off him and fuck him as I please with no affect upon his poor little human body, as he won't be one of us per say, but linked to me, and my energy. If I die, he dies, that kind of thing - I sort of have his soul tied to me, in a way. Sounds beneficial for the both of us, well only in his case if the alternative is a painful death.. Which it is."
"But, Gerard, please." Mikey knew the almost pathetic look his face was painted with would have no affect upon such an apathic character as Gerard, but he reckoned that by now, just the fact that he'd tried warranted him merit of some sort. "He doesn't even know - about us, about this... what we are."
"Even better."
And there again was that stomach churning laughter, echoing throughout the vicinity, leaving Gerard to fall into nothingness and appear again elsewhere, before Mikey's head could even process the situation they were in.
And if he could say one thing for sure - it was much worse than he'd originally thought. Much, much worse.
-
Cold.
All Frank felt was cold.
A never ending cold - the kind of cold that just wouldn't leave you, like a haunting presence, but this time in a manner more literal than Frank's head would have liked him to think.
Because alone was not something that Frank was certain he was anymore, and just how uncomfortable he was with that fact was put aside by the gut instinct that called for him to keep walking like nothing at all was astray.
So, the nineteen year old, swallowed, perhaps not even out of the ordinary, yet with dry scratchy sensation clawing at the back of his throat like some ungodly creature, and how he aware he was of the emptiness of the alleyway to the eye, and of course how his mind told him otherwise, perhaps those were what added up in order for one simple swallow to echo out across the walls of the buildings surrounding him like the four walls of a prison cell.
And Frank wanted to run, and every instinct was screaming at him to run, but he felt that would, if there were at all someone or something there, give him away. So he took one slow step, then another, and another, and another, and another; all slowly increasing in pace as he traversed his way out of the shadows of the alleyways and just what lurked in them; never had the fog ridden main street of the village ever looked quite so appealing.
But Frank never quite made it out of the alleyways.
That would be all too boring after all.
It could never be just 'and poor Frank Iero got home frightened, yet unscathed' - what lurked in the alleyways just simply wouldn't allow such a thing, of course.
He stopped perhaps even of his own accord, or that was as passers-by would see it, however, Frank wanted, perhaps even begged to move his feet, but they seemed stuck to the cobblestone floor like it was quicksand. And eventually, he even gave up trying.
That was his first mistake.
Or perhaps not, depending on your perspective.
Because as Frank stopped and let control of his head subside into nothingness as terror looked him straight in the face in the simple form of safety on the horizon, yet the kind of safety on the horizon that he just couldn't quite reach.
And the opportunity was exploited; his opportunity of nothingness, of weakness, of emptiness, of pure terror, and the need to take that opportunity spurred on by words of warning from a certain younger brother.
Exploitation, simply, in the form of a cold hand on the back of Frank's neck.
And the one heartbeat in the alleyway stopped for what seemed like eternity after that.
Cold breath against his neck followed in pursuit of the hand, and as Frank's heartbeat came back in full swing; thudding so hard he almost feared for it bursting from his chest, blood and guts everywhere - like his parents, Frank tried to scream.
But he couldn't; the noise hitching in his throat and in his unwilling silence, a second cold hand finding its way over Frank's mouth.
And the nineteen year old wondered if this was how he was going to die.
-
"He's such a fucking asshole, though." The volume at which Mikey's words burst out with, drowned out as he swung his foot against the wall, taking advantage of his incapability to feel pain in order to sufficiently take out his anger and destroy nothing but Ray's shop in the process.
"He's your brother." Ray grabbed his boyfriend's hand, wondering just what lengths he'd find himself going to in order to calm him down, and just hoping that in eventuality, he would. "If he's going to listen to anyone, it's going to be you."
"I wish he wasn't." And Ray considered commenting upon the harshness of Mikey's statement but decided against it, especially with him in such a state. "Where even is Frank? Didn't you say he was getting here as soon as he could... what? Like ten minutes ago now?"
"It'll be fine, Mikey." Ray grabbed his boyfriend with a little more force this time, spinning him around and planting his lips against the cold ones he had to duck a little to reach. "He's just a little late."
"Either that, or my brother has killed him by now... or worse... or worse..." Mikey shook his head, turning his gaze back to the window, and wishing they hadn't chosen to meet in the evening, even if such a time was a necessity for Mikey to avoid running the risk of accidental death, the exact same went for Gerard, and with this meeting, he was just the kind of person they were ensuring Frank was able to avoid.
"What did he even say to you about what he was going to do?" Ray asked, biting his lip in order to bottle down his genuine concern for Frank's whereabouts, in the hope of saving his shop from further abuse and destruction.
"Make Frank his 'pet' or whatever the fuck kind of thing he meant by that he basically just wants to enslave him, or something, man fuck, can he even do that or is he just trying to fuck with me?" And Ray wish he could offer Mikey all the right answers, but the unfortunate record storeowner was not Bob Bryar, who would.
"I think we should talk to Bob about this." Ray suggested, his eyes, like Mikey's, fixated upon ever-growing darkness outside.
"We? You mean, you? Bob, will not see the good in me like you do and will of course not hesitate to kill me on sight." Mikey reminded his boyfriend, his eyes widening in concern as he pictured the scene and shivered a little.
"Neither will he Gerard, if we involve him..." Ray added, not sure as to whether Mikey hated his brother enough to run the possibility of his death without care or compassion.
"That's Gerard's fault then." Came an apathic grumble, perhaps even similar to the shit his brother's lips let slip.
"So you wouldn't mind killing your own brother?" Ray knew what Mikey was, but he didn't quite know how to feel about this at all, because despite who Gerard was and what he was planning upon, it just made him sick. Ray was the kind of guy that didn't like killing anybody, and really, in a town like this, it was an absolute miracle that the guy was still alive.
"He wouldn't mind killing off Frank, so I don't see what's the problem here, huh?" Ray decided it best not to argue further, detracting his gaze from the anger bubbling between them. "Sorry, I... it's been like fifteen minutes now."
"I know."
"He's-"
"He's perfectly fine, Mikey. Just wait another minute, I promise."
And never more had Ray hated to be wrong.
-
"Shush." The voice, nasally and strong with a Jersey accent, brought further cold breath against the back of Frank's neck - the boy paralysed at what he was certain to be sudden death, pressed against the cold body of a stranger, stopping him from screaming or escaping.
The hand on the back of his neck moved up and ran its fingers through Frank's dyed black hair, tugging a little and grabbing Frank's attention with a jolt, and a chuckle from the stranger to follow. "No need to be scared, Frankie."
The stranger removed the hand from Frank's hair and grabbed a cigarette from the packet at the bottom of his jacket pocket, placing it between Frank's lips as he removed the hand he'd been blocking them with, reaching around with a lighter and igniting the thing before Frank could even react.
"Who? Who- are you?" Frank spluttered his words out, the nicotine fix somehow bringing him back down to reality in an instant, warranting another bone splintering laugh from the man behind him, who stepped forward, his boots clicking against the floor as he made his way to stand before Frank, a smirk twisting its way upon his lips.
"Don't you recognise me, Frankie?" The stranger passed another chuckle, making his enjoyment in Frank's confusion and panic rather public indeed. "I'm offended."
"Wait, woah... you're that asshole- I... fuck, what are you... what? You fucking scared me? What is with that shit?"
"That asshole." He let a smirk grace his lips at that. "Seems fitting."
"Yeah." Frank rolled his eyes in response, clearly not seeing the situation in quite the same light that Gerard did.
"Sugar, it'd just be easier for your if you got over the fact that I scared you, and just how embarrassing that was, because we've got things to do." Gerard cut to the case, stepping forward and holding his hand out to a confused and offended Frank Iero.
"We? What the fuck?" And perhaps everyone had really been right when they told him not to go in the graveyard.
Gerard brushed his fringe from his eyes, tucking his black, unwashed hair behind his ears and revealing a face Frank was yet to see in full - his amber eyes bright and captivating.
And Frank couldn't help but blush at the fact that although seriously fucked up, this guy was aesthetically pleasing, to say the least, perhaps he would even go as far as to say that he was attractive, perhaps.
"Your eyes..." The words tumbled from Frank's lips.
"Yeah, they go like that when I consume human blood."
And Frank laughed, but Gerard wasn't joking.
-
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