Gloves

Frank was awoken by the necromancer-of-sorts shouting into the phone at someone who was clearly pissing him off greatly. By the look on his and everyone else's face, Frank knew that the kind, tender side of Gerard he had cried to the night before was packed away, replaced by the cold, sarcastic side he let everyone else see.
The brunette sat up, pushing the blanket (when did that get there?) off of himself and stretching his arms. He groaned and stood slowly, listening to his joints pop. Ray nodded to him and Bob patted his head like a dog, while the Way brothers continued to ignore him, Gerard because he was screaming at someone over the phone and Mikey because he was trying to block out his brother's strangely musical -- yet ineffably loud -- voice.
"Fuckers," muttered Gerard, putting his flip phone (how does he even still have that?) into his pocket. He tugged on his gloves, pulling them tighter and grumbling under his breath. He turned to the basement door and started up the staircase. "Come, my childe; we have much to do."
Frank bounced towards him, asking, "Where are we going?"
"I'll tell you on the way."
The three other boys stared at the now closed slab of wood. "What the fuck is a 'childe'?" Mikey wondered, tilting his head to the side.
Bob gasped. "I spoke too soon."
"Hey," Ray said, "What day is it?"
"Friday."
"Looks like we're skipping school, huh?"
"You bet your hairy ass."
"...please tell me he's joking."
"Yes Bob, he is joking."
...
"What are we doing?" Frank asked for the fifth time since they left the basement, grating Gerard's already frayed nerves closer to the snapping point.
I promised I wouldn't kill him, I promised, I promised, don't do it, willpower, Gerard!
He sighed and finally answered. "We're going to the police station."
The brunette's eyes widened perceptibly. "What?! Gerard, what did you do?!"
The elder Way let out an indignant huff and glared at him with that end-of-days look he had seen many times throughout the day and a half he had known Gerard. "Why do you assume it was me?"
"Have you seen yourself? You are goddamn terrifying."
"I believe that is the point, my childe."
The gears started turning in Frank's head again. "When did you decide I was your 'childe'? And what exactly is that?" asked the newly-appointed childe.
He laughed heartily. "A 'childe' is a term used to describe a vampire's offspring. I would be considered your 'Sire'," he explained, a chuckle leaping out at certain points.
"But you aren't a vampire, right?"
Gerard shook his head. "No, I'm not, but this is a fitting name for you, considering I resurrected you. It's pretty much the same concept."
"Is it?"
"Actually," he said after a moment, "Our situation is much more dire. I am the force keeping you alive, rather than just making you. And in reality, I did not make you; I merely brought you back from whatever place you went to after you died. Although, you weren't even dead long enough to cool off."
Frank deadpanned. "That is so comforting."
The would-be vampire laughed again.

Notes

Sixth update today.
Someone get me a life, please.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches