It was an unusually dull day in the small town of Bantam, Connecticut. The habitual baby blue skies were replaced by a dark shade of gray mixed with swirls of cotton-white clouds. These were the type of days that twenty-one year old Frank Iero detested. He wasn't very fond of gloomy days, since he saw them as a sign that something terrible was going to happen. He absolutely hated them, and he didn't dare step a foot outside his small mansion in fear that he wouldn't be able to escape his fate. In days like these, he turned into a big ball of paranoia and went around making sure that all the doors and windows were locked, and all the curtains were closed. What he did while he was locked inside his house remained a mystery.

Bantam was a small town with less than a thousand citizens, most of whom gossiped about young Frank. They all knew about his anxiety and hatred towards somber days and how he locked himself inside his home, but none of them knew what he did in there. They knew why he hated those days, and they didn't judge him for doing so. The poor boy had gone through a lot in his twenty-one years of life. His parents had died when he was only 16 years old in a tragic car accident, and his life-long best friend, Bob Bryar, had drowned in the town lake right in font of him when he was 19, and he had not been able to save him. Frank had been closely involved in both of these events (which happened during dull, colorless days) and it had been a miracle that he had survived both times. Since then, every time the skies turned gray, Frank would lock himself inside his house, and refused to come outside until the wind blew the dark clouds away.

On that particular day, instead of locking the doors and windows like he usually did, Frank called his girlfriend, Jamia, and asked her to come over. He was going to break up with her after two years of dating because she had been acting very strange lately...and because he was ready to come out of the closet. Yes, Mr. Frank Iero was homosexual. It had taken hours and hours of thinking for him to realize that yes, he was a fag, just like everyone in town had suspected he was years ago. The bitter memories of being bullied in middle school and high school came back in an instant as soon as he accepted his sexual orientation. He was straight during his teenage years, but according to other kids his age, his hairstyle and taste in music made him "gay". He brushed those painful memories aside, and walked to the living room, anxiously waiting for Jamia to arrive .

Frank glanced out the window and took a peek at the sky. Instead of clearing, the clouds seemed to be getting darker by the second. He grimaced, and pulled the curtains close. Memories of his loved ones dying flooded his mind, making it hard for him to hold back the tears. He stepped away from the window into the center of the living room, and paced back and forth, making a squeaking noise with his sneakers on the tiled floor. His clammy hands were clasped behind his back, and his eyebrows were twitching, signaling that he was about to have a panic attack. Jamia would not take the break up well, and he knew that. She came from a close-minded family, and when she announced that she and Frank were an item, her family had practically disowned her. They did not want their daughter to be associated with the town's misfit, so they kicked her out and had not spoken to her since. She had moved in with some friends because Frank had not offered her a room in his house. The girl had given up everything for him, and here he was, two years later ready to break her heart.

Frank had never seen Jamia as his girlfriend. She was more of his pet. They met in Bob's funeral, which the entire town had attended because he had been one of the most lovable boys around. He got to know her really well that day, and found out that she was just a little misfit like him, except her parents tried to conceal it. They could not afford to have a "reckless" daughter in such a small town, so they tried to make her seem as normal as possible. They became really good friends after that conversation, even though her family disapproved of their friendship. It became pretty obvious that Jamia had a huge crush on Frank, so he decided to be a gentleman and ask her out. He never had feelings for her though, and he was always worried that one day she would figure that out and leave him, just like everyone else had.

What Frank liked about Jamia was how she would listen to his pointless rants. He would talk on and on about a subject, and she would sit quietly, absorbing every word he said as if he was God or a famous philosopher. She never interrupted him, even when she disagreed with what he said. When he was done speaking, she would ask him questions about that certain subject, her child-like, curious eyes awaiting for answers. She was a pleasure to have around, or at least she was, up until a few months ago. Jamia had been acting very strange lately. She was having violent mood swings, where she would go from being the happiest person alive to the most frightening one in a matter of minutes. It wouldn't be a surprise if she killed–

The doorbell rang, interrupting Frank's thoughts and making his heart stop for a millisecond. She had arrived. Slowly, he wiped his sweaty hands on his faded blue jeans, and made his way to the front door. He put his hand on the doorknob, and reminded himself one last time that he had to keep calm or she would flip out. Taking a deep breath, Frank opened the door, and smiled at his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. She gave him a wide grin, and stepped inside.

"Hey Frank" she said softly, fluttering her eyelashes at him in a flirty way.

"Hi" he squeaked back, failing at trying to sound cool.

"I haven't seen you in a while" she answered, looking around his living room.

"Yeah. Um. I need to talk to you. About something." Frank looked at her with wide, frightened eyes and guided her to his dark red couch. He sat as far away from her as possible.

"Listen" he started. " I think we should...stop seeing each other."

Jamia blinked at him a few times, her pale, freckled face expressionless. He sighed.

"I'm breaking up with you."

Frank gasped and mentally cursed himself for being so straight up with her. Jamia did not react for a few seconds, but finally she gave him a half-smile.

"Okay" she said, the ends of her pale pink lips twitching like maniacs. "Can I know why though?"

"Oh, um" Frank said, rubbing his forehead in frustration. He couldn't lie to her, she was the only one who could see right through his lies. She wouldn't leave until he told her the truth. He wanted her to leave, now.

"I think I'm gay."

"Oh" was her response. She frowned a little. "How do you know?"

"I've just been thinking a lot lately" he answered quickly. "Anyways, I think it's gonna rain soon, and I really don't want you to get wet, so I think it's time for you to lea–"

"I don't think that's a good idea" she interrupted, pursing her lips.

"Why not?" Frank asked, terrified.

"The whole town is outside, waiting for me to come out and tell them what you do when you're locked up in here. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions right now. Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" she asked.

"Sure" he responded, reluctantly. "The guest room is upstairs, first door on the right."

That night, the sky unleashed a huge thunderstorm. Rain poured out of the sky like a waterfall, and the thunder roared so loudly that Frank could not sleep. The thunder and the fact that his crazy ex-girlfriend was in his house kept him awake most of the night. Every time his eyes were closing, thunder would explode outside and wake him up in an instant. He decided to just stay awake the rest of night. When the rain had stopped around 2 a.m and Frank was determined to get whatever few hours of sleep he had left, he heard the stairs squeaking, and he knew Jamia was awake and walking around his house. He hugged the covers tightly to his chest, feeling like a victim in a horror movie. A few seconds later, he heard a light knock on the door, and Jamia walked in. She stood in front of his bed with a wide grin glued to her face.

"Hi Frankie" she said between gritted teeth.

"Jamia?" he asked in a shaky voice. "Why are you up? Go back to sleep. Please?"

"I can't" she said, the grin fading from her face. "My boyfriend broke up with me." She looked saddened, but quickly recovered.

"Wh-What are you gonna do?" Frank asked, noticing the glinting metal knife in her hand.

"Oh, he's gonna die" she said, a small giggle escaping her throat. In a heartbeat, she lunged at Frank with the intention of stabbing him, but missed by a few centimeters. The knife punctured the mattress instead of him. Frank quickly scrambled out of the bed, and ran downstairs to the kitchen. Jamia tried to follow him, but got tangled in the sheets and fell face-flat on the bedroom floor, giving Frank a few extra seconds to escape. He made his way through the kitchen, looking for some other object to defend himself, but found nothing. He knew that calling the town sheriff wouldn't be of much help because it was the middle of the night, and he would not bother to check on him until later in the morning. Frank opened the back door leading to his immense backyard and ran outside when he heard Jamia's footsteps running down the staircase. His backyard was huge. It was almost a mini-forest, one that he had gotten lost in many times as a child. It didn't matter if he got lost there now, just as long as Jamia didn't find him.

"You can't hide from me Frank!" Jamia shouted over the blowing wind. Frank kept on running, and he could feel Jamia close behind. It was dark outside, and the moonlight wasn't helping the situation. He couldn't see a thing and ended up tripping over a fallen tree branch, landing on the mud with a splash. He turned around and looked at Jamia's towering shadow over him. There was a light trickle of blood coming from her nose, from when she had fallen in his room. He laughed at how ridiculous everything was at the moment. It looked like a scene from a horror movie.

Jamia interpreted Frank's laugh the wrong way. She thought he was making fun of her appearance, and she mercilessly stabbed the knife right underneath the spot where his heart was. Frank sucked his breath in and tried not to scream, even though the pain was overpowering. He knew that making noise was only gonna get her more upset. After the first wound she had caused him, she stabbed him another forty-two times, going deeper and deeper each time. Frank could barely suppress the noise built up in his throat, and he decided to let it all out. He shouted every cuss word in the book, until he felt dizzy and his breathing stopped all together. He looked at her one last time, the vicious look in her eyes gone, smiled, and closed his eyes, knowing that this time, his fate was something he could not escape and that he wouldn't be waking up. .

Notes

This is probably going to be the longest author note I've ever written. But here's some things you need to know about this fan fiction:
1. I can't update daily. Maybe once a week, or one every two weeks. Sorry for the inconvenience.
2. The POV's are a mess. Sometimes it'll be Frank's POV, Gerard's or third person POV. I'll use the one that I think is the most convenient for that chapter (it'll say who's POV it is in the chapter description).
3. Some chapters are gonna be long, some are gonna be short.
4. Even though this is a Frerard fic, there's absolutely no sex scenes. I just can't write those, they're too...graphic ._.
5. There is some flashback chapters in this story. They will be italicized
Yeah, that's pretty much it. Thanks for reading, subscribing, commenting, etc.