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)

"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.

Frank is 27. He's fed up with life. He just wants it all to end. He's tired of the harassment, tired of the job he works, tired of the memories of his mother's abuse, tired of his shitty trailer. He's tired with himself. So he takes his late father's Colt Python, loads it, and pulls the trigger. Only nothing happens. But only because a certain angel of death named Gerard won't let it. ⚠️ Trigger warning for: • Suicide • Self Harm • Alcoholism • Drug Use • Sexual Harassment (No rape is involved, whatsoever) Cover made by me and edited by @missmistiblurryface

"He thinks I have stigmata," Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn't get any worse. He might as well just lay it out. "Oh, well," said Brian into his hands. "Of course." ~ I did not write this story. All credit goes to the author, Bexless on Archive Of Our Own. Link to the original story: http://archiveofourown.org/series/9795

They were murdered, they were attacked and now they're dead. That's all Frank knows about his parents - gone before he'd even had chance to miss them, and it was fucking with his head. The police reckoned that moving away, to rural New Jersey with his grandparents would help him cope with the loss, but even Frank knew that they couldn't be more than wrong, because despite the dull sleepy atmosphere of the town, there was something unidentifiable yet impossibly unnerving about the place, and really, perhaps was safer in his parents home than he ever was here. And there's something physically wrong too - a figure that lurks in the smoke, fog, and shadows - a silhouette the deepest black he'd ever seen, the kind that brought an unsettling feeling to Frank's stomach, and really Frank's wasn't one to be overly twitchy about things like this, but from the moment he first met him, he could never shake the feeling that the figure was always following him. And perhaps, he was. (Vampire!Gerard)