Antichrist (Frerard)

7: Trenchcoat Boy & The Human Magnet Of Fucked Up Things

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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