The Stars in His Eyes

Chapter 6

When the Way brothers arrived home they were greeted by a slightly less drunken Pete. He squinted into the headlights before making his way to the rear of the vehicle. The two brothers quickly jumped out of the car and scrambled for the rear passenger door. Pete eyed them curiously. The pair were known for getting themselves into strange situations, but he had never seen them look quite this disheveled.

Mikey's glasses sat askew on his thin face, the frames bent during the scuffle. His arms bore scratches and scrapes, both from wayward branches and the claws of his attacker. Gerard looked no better, with his clothes ripped and blood smattering his hairline.

"What the hell happened to you guys?" Pete inquired, continuing to stare at the state of the two brothers.

"We were- we- it's a long story."

Just then, as if on cue, a pained groan emanated from the back seat. Pete's already large eyes widened just a little more. He threw the door open, revealing the wounded man sprawled across the seats.

"Dude, what the fuck! That's not a fucking dog!"

"No," Mikey said reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck, "that's a, um, well I can't actually remember his name, but he needs help.

"Frank." a small, scratchy voice interjected.

Mikey looked like he had seen a ghost, or heard one rather. His face paled as he turned to stare at his brother who had just uttered his first intelligible words in eight years.

"Wha- what did you say?" he whispered, almost afraid that speaking at full volume would chase Gerard's quiet voice away again.

"Frank. His name's Frank"

"Right, anyway, we should get him inside before all your neighbors start waking up." Pete stated in a matter of fact tone.

Gerard's legs shook as he and his brother once again shouldered the weight of their injured savior. Once inside Pete scrambled into the Way's dining room, flicking on every light possible and haphazardly clearing the surface of the table upon entering. The brothers hoisted Frank up onto the tabletop. He was eerily still again, his breathing becoming so shallow it was hard to detect. He was fading fast.

Pete ran back to the front of the house to grab his meager first aid kit. It wasn't stocked for something this severe. All it was comprised of was a roll of bandaging, scissors, and an assortment of butterfly bandages for minor wounds, all held in a bright red case with a white dog emblazoned on the front. Using the bandage scissors, Pete carefully cut away what was left of Frank's tattered shirt. What was revealed was a mangled mixture of blackened blood and tattooed flesh.

"Fuck, how is this dude even still alive?" Pete huffed.

"That's uh- that's the thing, he's not exactly alive." Mikey replied.

"What do you mean he's not alive? He's breathing and moving..."

"Pete, he doesn't have a pulse. You can check for yourself. There were more like him. I- I think he's a- well, I think he's a vampire or something."

Pete's eyes glazed over for a moment while his buzzed brain tried to comprehend what his friend had just said. Pete had a deep love of all things supernatural and paranormal, including the fabled vampire. Quickly, he reached out and pressed his fingers against Frank's wrist. Just as Mikey had said there was no pulse, no thrumming of blood beneath his pale skin.

 "I fuckin love you, Mikey Way! You know how much I love this kinda shit!"

Pete began looking Frank over with a renewed sense of interest, suddenly much more invested in saving him. Now that Pete knew what the man on the table before him was he had questions for him, and the only way to get them answered was to make sure Frank was alive long enough to answer them. 

In the background, Gerard stood alone in the corner of the room. The gravity of the night's events was not lost on him. The screams of Mikey's friends ricocheted through his head, eventually turning into the screams of someone else altogether. He drew in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm his frayed nerves. Another thing weighing heavy on Gerard's mind was his sudden return to vocalization. He hadn't meant to speak, for years now he had fought tooth and nail not to, but for some reason, it had slipped from his lips before he was fully aware that it was happening.

By the time Gerard zoned back in on what was happening around him Pete had finished patching up Frank's wounds as best he could.

"I don't know what else to do for him man. I did my best with what I've got, but I don't know if it's enough." he sighed, stepping back to survey his work.

A thick layer of bandages encased Frank's torso, his wounds precariously sealed with a plethora of adhesive butterfly bandages. Frank had begun to stir slightly during his treatment, his limbs twitching every now and then. A soft whimper slipped from between his colorless lips.

"Please- I need- I nneee..." he stammered, still mostly incoherent.

Pete was instantly at his side, leaning in so he wouldn't have to strain his ears.

"What? What do you need?"

"Blood, I n- ah- need blood." Frank said, hissing in pain. 

"Yeah, dude, whatever you need. Please," Pete said pulling his shirt away from his neck, "it would make my life."

Frank leaned in slightly before recoiling from Pete.

"Can't, you reek of alcohol, I won't heal."

Pete looked deeply offended. He straightened up gesturing towards Mikey, "I guess you're up."

"No way, I did a blood drive like a week ago. I just ca-"

"I'll do it." said a quiet voice from the corner.

Gerard stepped closer, pouring himself into the chair nearest Frank's head.

"Gee, you don't have to. We tried to help him, it's not our fault." Mikey said, resting a hand gently on his brother's shoulder.

"Yeah," Gerard sighed, "I know."

He leaned over the pale form laying on the table, tilting his head to the side to allow him better access.

"No- 's too dangerous," Frank whispered, "down here." he said letting his fingers skim the area just above Gerard's collarbone.

Gerard pulled the neckline of his shirt aside as far as it would go. He could feel the other man's cool breath fanning across his exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise across his flesh. He was certain that Frank could hear the erratic hammering of his heart as anxiety about what was to come washed over him. 

"Don't worry, it won't hurt." Frank breathed, his lips brushing against Gerard's skin.

Gerard still couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath when sharp fangs sank deep into the flesh and muscle between his neck and collarbone, greedily seeking the blood that flowed beneath.