From the Razor to the Rosary (Frerard oneshot)

From the Razor to the Rosary

A/N: so me n ierohhellno were talking about this idea for a while. enjoy!

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9:30 p.m., Thursday night, Belleville, New Jersey.

The upstairs apartment of Frank Iero's self-owned funeral home was quiet and dark save for the moonlight flooding through the window, the brighter light emitting from the television screen, and the low volume of an episode of The Munsters. Frank was seated on his plush, red, velvet couch next to his baby boy - his little bat - who was contentedly gnawing on his forearm.

You see, this act wasn't as bizarre as it sounds. Frank's love, Gerard, was in fact a vampire. A young vampire however, who's teeth hardly felt like more than bug bites, and almost never broke skin. Gerard developed a sort of habit of chewing on Frank, similar to the way a small child sucks their thumb or a baby starts teething.

Truthfully, Gerard's actions were exactly like teething, and in Frank's eyes it was too silly and adorable to get upset over. And there was no harm done by it.

Settling into the couch cushions, Frank's attention drifted away from the television and down to his baby bat, who was making barely-audible wet sounds and tiny, happy humming noises as he lay with his Daddy. With fondness in his eyes and a smile on his face as he looked down at his little boy, Frank began to think back to how he had first found Gerard...

Unidentifiable bodies weren't too uncommon in the city, so when the body of a boy (estimated to be around nineteen or twenty years old) was brought into Frank, covered in bites, it wasn't too big of a deal for him. He'd been working as a funeral director since he'd gotten out of college, so he was well accustomed to this sort of thing. However, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when he turned around after getting his supplies and found the body sitting up on the table, staring at him.

The metal tools clattered to the floor as Frank felt his heart rise to his throat and threaten to jump out of his skin. The boy gazed back at him, eyes the size of saucers.

"W-where am I?" the boy stuttered.

Frank felt lightheaded and woozy. He chest began to heave, the boy on the table began to tear up, the red eye makeup Frank hadn't even noticed had been on him started to run down his soft cheeks. Suddenly the mortician found himself crashing to the floor, unable to hold himself up on his shaking knees. The cart that held his other tools clattered as he came down.

"Oh my god are you okay?" the boy shifted to lean a bit over the edge of the table, peering down at Frank and sniffling.

Frank struggled to catch his breath before replying, "Okay? You're asking me if I'm okay? You're fucking dead!"

The boy looked as though Frank had just slapped him. "

What? No I'm not! ...Am I?"

His greasy black hair hung in his eyes as he gazed down at the tiled floor, eyes losing focus.

"Do you remember anything?" Frank asked, finally beginning to regain his composure.

"I just..." the boy's hand drifted up to his neck, where the skin had been punctured from the bites, "I just remember being cornered in an alley by this man... I couldn't see his face."

Frank took a deep breath. "Do you... I mean, have any family I could call or something? To tell them you're okay?"

The boy just shook his head sadly. Frank slowly rose to his feet, wobbling a little, then collecting himself. He crossed the room to the table where the boy was sitting.