A Lonely Avenue (part four)

[zmphony]

Title:A Lonely Avenue (part four)
Author: zmphony
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating/Warning: R, Frerard vampire AU.
Disclaimer: I totally know what i'm doing on this whole...thing
Summary: Willow Avenue. It's been quite alone most the time. It's always been alone. Atleast, at nighttime it is. He watched these nights. Frank knew he did. He was new to the neighborhood.
A/N: Alrighty, hope everyone had a great halloween, and I hope mistah Iero had a great boifday. Ummm so yeah i'm sure everyones noticed how I don't have the previous chapters linked to the currently posted chapter when I post chapters (sounds so technogeekical). Yea thats cuz idfk how.yeah i'm a loser. sincerely. anyways. I hope my loser attempt at it works, but if none of the links to past chapters appear, then...one of you lovely people should like totally message me (message, not comment =]) on how to do it =DDDDD yes? yesh! so. here we go.

part one
part two 
part three


Hambone called these kind of things that Frank does a "hang-up", or sometimes even a "hang-over", in different cases.

When asked the definition for this term, he replied with something along the lines of, "a motion of preposession or infatuation in which Frank Iero occasionally undertakes for a period of undetermined time, sometimes lasting three days to a week, much like a girl on her period. Symptoms include irrational researching, lack of sleep, missing hours of alcohal digestion, additional stalking-if the obsession happens to be a living thing-nausea, heartburn, indigestion, diarrhea...etc.".

Sometimes Frank wonders why Hambone would even take the time to study his character so drastically. And since when had he'd ever had diarrhea?
But, while hidden behind two small towers of books with titles like; The Bloodsucking Bible, Vampires--Today, How To Recognize the Undead, and even, The Vampire's Secret, he can't feel that Hambone couldn't have picked a better word. There was a small stack behind him with books that he'd already finished flipping through, and a small stack next to him with books that he was about to flip through.

The one he has his nose stuck in at this moment was called, The Vampire Next Door, (yes, they have it), and had already gotten halfway through that before somebody had knocked down one of his little towers. He sighed, not bringing his eyes away from the book he was reading, "What do you want, Hambone?"

The figure plopped down beside him, looking through the small pile of books he'd had fencing him in.

"I was just wondering when you'd actually found your library card," He said, picking up a book titled Vampire Survival Guide and looking at it queerly, "and your need for one..."

"Since a vampire moved in next door to me," Frank said, sourly, "And I never lost it. I just never used it."

"So you're really hung-up on this guy, huh?"

See?

"Yes." Frank replied, his gritted teeth obscuring his speech a little. Hambone sighed, sitting back uselessly as Frank continued reading. Then, he sat back up instantly, as if he'd just got a major epiphany. Frank didn't like it when that happened.

The book he hid his nose in was suddenly knocked to the floor, his helpless cry of indignation unheard as he was pulled up by his wrist toward the exist doors. "What're you doin?" He managed to ask, as he was drug away from his cage of novels.

"We're gonna go pay your neighbor a visit." He said, cheerily.

"What? No!" He said, talking in a volume that he was sure the librarians didn't appreciate too much.

"Oh yes," Hambone replied, tugging him past a scowling old lady and a few other people who didn't look too happy.

Frank held his foot on the floor like an anchor, stubbornly refusing to move. But, what with Hambone's muscle mass and Frank's lack thereof, he only succeeded in a near victory of dislocating his wrist. He decided against rebellion.

It wasn't long before they were outside the tall, white, faded house, standing awkwardly in the middle of the green, untrimmed lawn.

Frank swallowed at the sight of the place. All the curtains were still closed together, as nobody'd waken up to actually open them.

"This place looks like those haunted houses they open up at Halloween," Hambone giggled,"No wonder you think he's a vampire."

Frank shook his head, "This ain't funny-" He started, but before he could get finished, Hambone grabbed him again and drug around the back. Frank was helpless to it all, his small screeches of relunctance becoming harsh whispers of hostility. The back and sides of the house were all familiar, due to the exploring of last night, but they looked slightly different, since it was broad daylight. He couldn't help but wonder which room the vampire was nesting in at this moment.

"It kind of reminds me of my Grandma's house," Hambone said, his giggles becoming falsetto in the silence. Frank just stared around with wide eyes, looking at the backyard as if it was the one and holy image of god. Hambone tugged him onto the back porch, looking all around at the small area curiously.

It was silent, only the wind whipping around the corners of the building, as if it were watching their trespassing like some sorta surveillance camera.

Could vampires even do that to wind?

Frank suddenly felt like he was being watched. Maybe that was just his paranoia though.

Hambone gingerly twisted the doorknob, making Frank shake his head furiously at him (which, of course, only earned him a smile from his friend), and opened the door with a quiet click. Frank backed away from the door instinctively, but Hambone held him fast. "C'mon," He said, "Vampires don't wake up till' six, anyways."

Frank looked at the door, then at the sun's current position in the sky. It looked far from the zenith. Hambone was gonna get him killed someday.

Slowly, he took a step forward, and before he could inch himself the rest of the way, Hambone drug him inside quickly.

The house was hollow, practically airless. Hambone shut the door behind him quietly, and Frank's eyes buzzed around the scene. There was nothing totally different about the place, since he'd been there many times before when Mr. Dunkleburger had lived there. The only real different thing about the place was the absence of crazy portraits and clocks and the like. Empty space took up the lounge area, only boxes of unpacked things and furniture with thin white sheets covering them dwelling there. Passing a null kitchen and study, they came to the entrance area, wide and vacant of life. In the center of it was a staircase, long and elegantly tall. Hambone skipped through the place, still giggling like a crazed toddler.

"Will you quit it?" Frank whispered harshly at him, feeling like he was standing 200 stories above the ground, and if he moved he'd just instantaneously fall off the Earth--and the fact that Hambone was skipping around like he was in Disneyland really wasn't helping him at all. But instead of actually stopping, Hambone came around and took Frank's hand, tugging him towards the staircase, "C'mon, let's find the coffin." He said, as if they were on the scavenger hunt.

"Stop it," Frank said, nervously, pulling away from him sharply, "You're gonna wake somebody up or something. Plus, any sane vampire would put their coffin in the basement, where the least light is. It said so in Nesting Satan Spawn volume 2."

But just as soon as he said that, Hambone started pulling him towards the narrow brown door in the corner, ignoring his small protests of 'no, no, no, no!'.

Frank almost wished that he'd never let Hambone come with him to this place when he'd go visit Mr. Dunkleburger sometimes. Then he wouldn't have had the issue of Hambone knowing exactly where every room was. Like the basement.

He pushed at the door, but it wouldn't budge. "It's locked," Frank said.

"No shit, Sherlock." Hambone replied, pushing at it a few more times, the doorknob jingling, "Maybe we can pick the lock-"

"Hey!"

Both their eyes shot up to the staircase instantly to see the tall, lanky man looking down at them, rushing down the staircase. Frank cursed, and Hambone started towards the door with him. He could hear the man's racing footsteps behind them, getting louder with each passing second. His heart pounded like a hammer against solid rock against his battered rib-cage. Hambone's grip on his wrist was like iron, and Frank quite faintly wondered if he was still giggling.

Just as he looked behind him at the man, close at their heels, Hambone and him were shot out the door, slamming it closed behind them, and sprinting down the street like mad men. Frank could hear faint yells from the lanky man behind him, his words indecipherable.

When they finally reached a stop, Hambone was laughing. Hysterically.

"What the fuck is so funny about that?" Frank cried, panting. Hambone just laughed even more, falling down onto soft green grass helplessly.

"Did," He breathed out, trying to catch his breath, "Did you see the look on your face?"

Frank jaw squared, his face flattening. Seriously?

Hambone rolled on his stomach, his sides clenching and unclenching with each broken laugh of 'ah, ah-haaa'.

"You're a jerk." Frank said flatly, sitting down beside his convulsing friend. He looked down the road, where they just came from, and imagined the tall, wiry, four-eyed man still chasing after them. "You think he's still after us?" He asked, his voice caught up in the wind.

"Nah," Hambone said, recoverigng his lungs, "His glasses would've fallen off by now."

Frank looked over at his red, sweaty friend, their faces expressionless for a few seconds, then breaking into ridiculous laughter. People who passed by them looked at them strangely, as if they just escaped from the looney bin. They both layed on their backs on the grass, letting their laughter ring like broken record players.

"You know that basement door was locked for a reason," Frank said, the seriousness coming back into his tone.

"Yeah, to keep crazy hormonal boys like you out of it," Hambone laughed, "He probably keeps all his gay porno's down there..."

"Pshhfftt, he's the straightest vampire i've ever seen." Frank said, his heart lightly falling at that reality.

"He's the only vampire you've seen," Hambone replied, "And I wasn't talking about your lover, I was talking about Count Chocula who ran us outta the house."

"Oh." Frank said, plucking at the grass he layed on, "Yeah he does kinda look like Count Chocula, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," He hummed, looking at the park across the street thoughtfully. Frank was quiet, silently thinking about the mystery that lie behind the basement door.

It was silent, only the cried of little kids playing in the jungle gym and moms having a breakdown over their sons climbing the monkey bars keeping the scene alive.

"You know what I want?" Hambone said, staring up at the sky dreamily. "What?" Frank murmured, looking down the street, as if the house was still in sight.

"A cheeseburger," He said, excentuating the syllables fatly, "A big, meaty cheeseburger."

"I'm vegetarian." Frank said, but more like mumbled.

Hambone made a dismissive sound, "And you wanna date a vampire."

***

Frank scrubbed at the tires of his bike quietly, watching the streets grow thin of people as the moon rose to its high place in the sky.

His mother had told him not to clean his motorbike in the garage, since it left such a mess that he would never get around to cleaning up, and do it on the street instead. So he did, as he was doing now. He didn't really see a purpose in having this bike, since all the places he went to in town were walking distance, and plus, he didn't even have his permit. But then again, it's not like alot of Belleville cops actually pay attention to underaged driving; much less underaged anything.

He thought back to the house beside his own, and his and Hambone's escapade earlier today. He wondered what was really hiding behind the basement door.

Mr. Dunkleberger never left the basement door locked. He was never shady about anything, really. That, and the fact that all his so-called "valuables" hidden down there were nothing worth stealing. Well seriously, what can a burglar really get for a couple toilet paper collections and rum labels?

But there had to be something down there. What was it?
He looked over at the place questioningly, as if addressing that thought to the house itself. Then, he noticed a figure on the balcony.

It was Count Chocula, the lanky man, standing there, his arms crossed like batman as he stared down at the boy. Frank swallowed. It was no doubt he was who he was looking at. There was nobody else to look at. But he didn't look happy. No, not one bit. Even from Frank's place on the sidewalk outside his house, he could see the look of solid anger on his face. His jaw was locked, and his eyes zero'd in on him like laser beams.

He knew it was Frank. It was like the death threats that he couldn't have said were being shot at him through those dark, dangerous eyes.

He knew. He knew that Frank knew.

Suddenly, two headlights blurred the corner of Frank peripheral vision. He looked up, the natural green of his eager eyes brightening innocently in the light.

The white trans-am pulled up in the driveway of his neighbor's house, the engine growling quietly like a feral, nocturnal beast as it yielded to a stop.

Frank was about to turn and hurry back inside, but then he heard loud giggles come from the passenger seat of the muscle car.

Looking up, there was a slender, curvy woman looking to be in her late twenties sitting contently in the automobile, her buttery brown hair tossed backways as if she was trying to pull off a cheap Cindy Lauper look.

Her face looked as if it was blown over by a hurricane of cheap make-up. Atleast, Frank thought it that way.

She stuck her finger between her two perfectly even rows of teeth as the driver slipped out of his seat smoothly, and giggled when he walked around and opened up the door for her like a charm. But isn't that what vampires are supposed to do? Frank couldn't help but think, as he hid behind his bike more than contently.

She was having a giggling fit by the time he took her hand and led her out of the vehicle, as if she was so amazed at the man's politeness that it was hilarious.

Frank watched like a curious cat as he steadied her, the darkness of his being circling him like an halo, his aura seeming to darken Frank's surroundings with uninterest, while it brightened his two round eyes like a match to kerosene. He gazed at how smoothly the man took the woman's arm and linked it with his own, carefully avoiding the sparkling gold purse that hung off her dainty wrist, and at how gently he placed her next to him, and how graceful his footing was, despite the clearly intoxicated woman leaning on him extravagantly. They were just beginning to walk towards the house, when the woman's giggling stopped, and she looked over at Frank's bike. He stiffened, as if that could make him suddenly turn invisible in the presence of his neighbor.

It felt so strange, being in the same place at the same time. So unreal. "Who-Who's that?" She giggled again, hiccuping lightly.

Frank could feel his stomach clench. Shit. The man looked at where Frank was, and he spotted him instantly.

Frank inhaled, then peeked out his head at them, like a frightened child. Cuz' really, that's what he was.

He looked up at them from behind the rusty exhaust pipe of his motorcycle, and there, not nearly six feet away, was the man. Frank swallowed again.

His soft, pale face was in full view in the luminescent moon light, the lunar beams beating down on him like a spotlight. His dark, shady, ink-black locks danced in the cool wind in a verbose rush, while he licked his vibrantly pink lips at the staring teenager. Frank couldn't resist the thought of them turning red later on tonight.

He looked down at Frank wonderingly, then, when he recognized who it was, he whispered something in the lady's ear. She giggled. Again.

"Hello," The man said, his voice sounding as if it had been wrapped in sweet secrets, the sound filling Frank's ears like a bell.

Then he realized the man was talking to him. "Hi," He said, his voice quivering slightly.

He mentally slapped himself for that, then stood up to decrease the feeling of immaturity in his gut. The lady hiccuped again, then laughed at herself at she stared at Frank, her eyes racing up and down his body like two monkeys on a fruit tree. "He's cute," She said to the man, grinning like a chimpanzee.

Frank was pretty sure she meant to whisper that, but apparently that failed. He looked down awkwardly.

"You live next door, don't you?" The man said, and Frank nodded, "Yeah, you're Linda's son, right?"

Frank nodded again, feeling like he was retarded for not using actual words. How did he know his mom's name?
"We talked earlier today," He said, answering Frank's question before he put it to words, "She's a nice lady. She talks about you alot."

Frank laughed lightly, although there was nothing real about it whatsoever. He'll berate his mom for that later.

The man still stood there, staring at him, watching him, waiting for him to look him in the eye. So Frank did. His eyes were hazel.

The lady was tugging on his arm now, whispering certain things Frank didn't want to her in the man's ear playfully. The man ignored her.

"I'm Gerard, my brother Michael and I live next door " He said, his eyes staying locked on Frank's unmovingly as he smiled at him, "And your name is...?

His voice sounded genuinely interested. Frank wondered why.

"Frank," He replied, looking from the drunken lady to the man-Gerard-with slightly scared eyes. Well, why shouldn't he have been? He was talking to a murderer.

"Frank," This man repeated, his lips twitching upwards as the name slipped past them, "I like that."

The woman whispered more things his ear, her eyes straying over to Frank as she spoke. Gerard laughed softly, looking over at her, then back at Frank, who was still standing awkwardly in the midst of this conversation, pretending that he didn't hear the lady's eerily innopropriate tone of voice or see the man's incredibly distracting eyes and lips. Hear no evil, see no evil, hear no evil, see no evil...
The man seemed to notice this, and continued talking. "So you guys have lived here for more than ten years?" He asked, his smile spreading like a beautiful plague across his face, and Frank couldn't tell if it was mocking or not.

"Ever since I was seven," Frank replied, feeling that he'd given away too much information to this man, even though it was less than he told his teachers at school.

"I see," Gerard replied, making a small humming sound of approval, ignoring the lady while she kept whispering things into his ear as if she thought she was some sort of succubus, "Yeah, you're mom was talking about how much you loved this place, and how it was nice to have somebody new to the neighborhood."

The lady laughed at that part, as if they had some sort of inside joke they weren't letting him in on. He felt stupid. He wanted to go to bed.

The man simply looked at Frank, the lady's incessant giggling not fazing him, as if he was trying to have a totally different conversation with Frank through his eyes. Maybe he was, and Frank just didn't know it. He looked back at him, trying to figure out the words that hid behind those hazel orbs.

Did he think that Frank knew? Was he that obvious?

Just then, the man smiled again, as if answering Frank's questions with the charming swoop of his lips. Frank's throat felt dry.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Frank," He said, finally giving in to the repetitive whines of his guest,.

"You guys are neigbors and you don't even know each other?" She snorted, a exaggerated laugh accenting the few last words.

Gerard looked over at Frank with dark eyes that seemed to smile at him, the shine of the moon reflecting itself in them like how it did on still waters, and Frank suddenly forgot how to smile. He just stood there, simply returning the stranger's gaze, his own eyes glossy and blank. The stranger, Gerard, smiled.

"Oh, we know each other." He said, that polite smile mocking Frank from where it was displayed on the man's face. Frank heard something inside him scream.

The lady stopped giggling for a second, staring as the two just looked at each other, then, the giggles started pouring out of her mouth again.

She tugged his wrist again, whining quietly, and the man looked at her decently.

"See you around, Frank." The man said, his feet tracing back to the pathway to his house. The lady merely waved her hand at him. Frank was speechless.

He watched as they adjourned to the house, the man giving Frank one last look as he stepped inside with the drunken, giggling, helpless victim, skipping in her high heels and squealing as soon as the door was shut behind her. And all he could do was watch.

When all got quiet again, he looked down, then at his bike, then at the street, then at anywhere that wasn't that house. Time seemed to slow down when the man (Gerard, Gerard, his name was Gerard) spoke to him, and when he disappeared completely, all the breath and heartbeats that the man had stole from him seemed to come flying back into his system. His voice was still ringing in the kid's head, echoing his name like a spirit. Frank, it said, like a whisper.

He looked back up at the place, and saw that the tall, lanky man-Michael?-was still standing on the balcony. He looked like a ghost.

For one second, Frank honestly thought he was going to sort of swoop down upon him and just kind of fly away with his head, by the way he was standing, in his long coat with an upturned collar and arms tightly folded, but all the man did, was smirk at him, then disappear into the house as well.

Frank was left bewildered on the street, with only the sound of a giggling drunk and the still-warm engine of a trans-am left to haunt him.

It was late, dark, and the night was still when Frank awoke to the sound of a shrill scream piercing the sky, striking the drums in Frank's ears sharply, causing him to sit up from where he slept abruptly. His eyes immediately shot over to the window, but all he saw was a light in the next room go out like a candle.

Silence cloaked the atmosphere right after, staying for the next ten minutes or so.

Slipping out of bed during those minutes, he crawled over to his window impulsively, peering over at his neighbor's lawn.

The trans-am had its trunk open, and coming out of the front door was the tall man, Michael, with a black bag of something slung over his shoulder.

Frank studied the bag quizzically, watching as the man carried the bag to the car, calmly and quietly expressionless as he placed it in there neatly.

Then, suddenly, just as he pushed it backways, something fell out of the plastic bag, and when Frank saw it, he began to wonder if this was a dream or not, because it was a hand. A human hand, pale, cold and dead, hanging limply out of the trunk like a christmas ornament. Frank was dizzy.

Just as he was about to turn back to bed, silently praying this was a nightmare, something emerged form out of the shadows. It was Gerard.
He said something to Michael, then tossed him a glittery, metallic gold item, which Frank quickly placed to be a purse. The drunken lady's purse from earlier. Frank suddenly felt dizzy, but he held on until they drove out of the driveway, the engine exhuming its low growl as it sped away.

Then, like a spineless six year old girl, he fainted.

"See you around, Frank" The man said, the memory floating freshly in Frank's slumber, "See you around."