It's 2018 and people think that the apocalypse has ended. Where cities, homes, businesses and humble towns once stood, now there lies only death, only destruction, only emptiness. Only the moans and the shuffles of the living dead. But in reality, it's only just begun. And for two lonely boys, once separated from each other by dead-town states and not even aware of each other's existence, it's far from being over. It's not about saving the world. It's about saving themselves. ----------------------------------

After a failed suicide attempt, Frank Iero is placed into an induced coma to prevent any further self harm. While he's asleep, he's visited by what he believes is an angel who sings to him. When Frank finally awakens, it becomes his obsession to find who the voice belongs to. [[Trigger Warning! Suicide-- do not take this warning lightly. Suicide is a main theme. Pretty explicit self-harm, child abuse, underage drinking, reckless behavior, and depression. If you notice anything else that needs tagged, please let me know!]]

Frank Iero, 17 years old, gets injuries randomly, out of the blue. He doesn't do them to himself and no one does them to him, that he knows of. He doesn't know why it happens, how it happens, and who or what is doing it to him. After a bad accident he's determined to find out what is happening, but is quite surprised by the source of his wounds.

Frank is twenty eight: he's mentally stable for the most part, and well nobody has to know about pills he takes twice a day, do they? He's normal now, he's a person now, he's a fucking adult with an office job and he fucking hates it and that's fine, because he got out of the mental hospital three years ago, and these past three years of mundane nothingness have been the best three years of his life. Ten years ago, or so, Frank was in love with a boy called Gerard with fiery red hair and the personality of a switchblade knife, and ten years ago that boy called Gerard had killed himself. Frank still saw him though: hallucinations, as he knew them to be now, and it took him years in a hospital he never thought he'd get out of to convince himself of his newfound sanity, but he was okay now. Twenty eight year old Frank Iero had been officially 'okay' since he was twenty five. He hadn't seen Gerard again, and he didn't even think about the guy - he was just normal, and he was almost painfully content with being the secretary to someone with a five figure salary. But of course, on one fateful morning in December, that has to go and change, doesn't it? (Technically a sequel to Summertime, but I wouldn't say you need to have read Summertime to understand and enjoy this)

Gerard draws dicks for a living. Frank takes them. Gerard Way moves into a new apartment in a dodgy complex where he's bound to get beaten to a pulp after his old place is set on fire by those damned 'youths', and by a certain turn of events, his neighbour, the equally provocative, yet entirely in a different way, Frank Iero, ends up in his bed, and then, everything just really goes to shit.

"You can run away with me, anytime you want." I want to get away. Away from the abuse at home, at school hell, but we're not friends. I could never be friends with Gerard Way. He's just some guy that fate seems to drive me towards. His brother may be even more of asshole than him, making my school life living hell and I guess things at home are not too great either. And despite how much of an asshole Gerard Way is, he's the only one that seems to make anything better.