Gerard thought that going for a nice, leisurely stroll through the streets of California would be peaceful and inspiring. The cold night air sliced across his skin, making him shudder. It felt good though; Gerard had always had a thing for pain. Saying that though, the last seven months of his life had sure as heck been painful. He hated to admit it, but since that fateful day in March, Gerard had found himself drinking again.

Okay, so that was a lie. Gerard had been drinking for the last year. The last seven months had been worse though, and he knew it. Lindsey knew it too, and Gerard had to do everything he could to make sure that Bandit didn't catch onto her relapsing alcoholic father. Maybe he was also addicted to the idea of self destruction too. For some unexplainable reason, Gerard had always felt a strong romance towards the concept of hurting himself.

Nights like this one seemed to be appearing more and more frequently. Gerard would find himself stood in the middle of a road, a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a sharpie in the other. A sharpie because he liked drawing on himself, and a bottle of vodka because his fans were wrong.

He wasn't strong. He was weak.

Whenever this thought entered his head, Gerard was barely brought to tears. He hated himself for it. Everyone in his fan base was proud of him for something that he hadn't even accomplished. He'd told himself he wouldn't touch alcohol ever again nine years ago, but he'd relapsed twice. He felt like a complete failure.

So, Gerard was out in the middle of the night, wallowing in self pity as his daughter was fast asleep at home, and his wife was on tour in Europe. The last thing he expected was for him to then become face to face with a Draculoid.

A hand had gripped his shoulder, and he'd been span around before he had a chance to react. When he saw the white costume that he had designed himself, he instantly thought it was a fan. This sort of thing happened every now and then, he'd learnt to live with that. It took about half a second before this idea left his head, and for the comic book genius side of him to burst out nowhere.

Could Danger Days be real? Was it possible that this was a real Draculoid facing him? It looked like a pretty legit costume, and Gerard even lifted a hand to stroke the rubber or the mask. Fuck, this was a good cosplay.

Then, the gun came out of nowhere.

Gerard gulped. He was pretty sure that he had put ray guns into his comic books, not real life, super dangerous pistols. He squeezed his eyes shut as memories from his days as a teenager flooded into his head. "It's loaded," a gruff voice informed him. "Move," Gerard was shoved forward, and he found himself tripping clumsily over toward a familiar vehicle. The old MCR trailer.

Gerard wanted to cry.

"... Frank?" he had to check.

"Get in the fucking van,"

"Frank if this is you," Gerard swallowed. "This is seriously not funny,"

"I said get in the fucking van!" the Draculoid snapped. Gerard flinched as he felt something press into the back of his head.

"Look, seriously. If this is one of your creepy fantasies you used to tell me abou-"

"If you don't get in the van right now," the dark voice began to say with a growl. "I'll take this gun to your house and find your daughter,"

Instantly, Gerard complied. He had to bite his lip as he found himself sat in the same seat he had slept in so many times before. Too many unwanted memories were screaming at him for attention, and Gerard had to physically slap himself to pay attention to the situation at hand. "Are you a fan?"

No answer.

"I'm pretty sure you know who I am. How'd you get my van?" Gerard leant forward as the Drac began tying his hands together. "I'm not scared of you," he said as he was shoved backwards. "But you're scared of me... you don't want me seeing your face. Do I know you?"

Gerard sighed, frowning as all he heard was silence. He also had one of his own songs stuck in his head, so he could also hear himself singing about cemeteries. Fuck, it was cringe worthy and made him feel like an absolute tool. "Are you a fan? Or is this actually Frank? If this is Frank, I am so gonna kill you," Gerard didn't feel at all intimidated by his kidnapper. If anything, he thought the whole thing was actually kinda cool. "I swear, I... actually, it won't be me who kills you," Gerard chuckled to himself. "It'll be Lindsey,"

The Draculoid stared at him for a second, giving Gerard the chance to see his kidnappers eyes. It was too dark though, and so the Way slumped backwards in resignation. "I don't understand to be honest. Frank, if you did... want me," Gerard blushed slightly. "You could have just called. Don't you remember that promise I made?"

The Drac didn't seem to be showing any emotion whatsoever. Then again, he had a zombie mask on. "I promised you that even if we were both married, I'd be... willing. You know I still love you, right?"

No response. "Well, you're not a fan," Gerard concluded. "You would have gone crazy just then,"

The Drac lifted a hand, then smothered a confused Gerard with a white cloth. After the small man had gone still, his head rolling to the side slightly, the Drac sighed. "Sorry," he said sympathetically. "But you just wouldn't shut the fuck up,"