Don't Bring Me Your Bullets

{Quinn's POV}
"You've been out for quite a while." He flipped the lights on and I saw I was in a small, gross apartment of sorts. There was the couch, a bunch of air mattresses, the crooked table, broken chairs, mini fridge and microwave. The lights were all hanging from little strings of rope, about to fall, and the walls were white... or they used to be... now they were decorated with colors of all different kinds. I'm not sure I wanted to know why some of them were there.

The floor was wooden and bare, and I was standing on dried, warm, spilt beer. I sighed in relief and just continued to stand there in it.

"I'm Frank by the way, Frank Iero." He walked over to me, the guitar slung across his back, a trail of smoke following him. He came up and stood approximately two feet away.

That was two feet too close.
"
So-" He started.
"
My backpack." I interrupted, sounding like a maniac. He looked at me, his right eyebrow raised high, a smile still dancing across his thin lips. "My backpack. The... the... the black one. With all the little.... thingy's..." He understood how nervous I was beginning to grow. He nodded his head.

"Y-yeah. Um... I think we.... uh, might've grabbed that from outside..." He rubbed the back of his head and my heart began to sink. That backpack was actually the only thing that kept me sane. It was the only thing that I knew inside and out. It was actually the only solid in my life. I began to panic again.

"Um..." Frank trailed off. "I'll ask the boys if they have it..." He said, and then began to back up. Now I began to panic more.

"WAIT!" I screamed and he stopped. He looked at me expectantly and I stumbled for words. He smirked.

"You don't want to be alone?" He asked and I shook my head slowly, sheepishly. Embarrassed of my stupid little fear of the dark. It wasn't the dark, so much of what came with it. Fear, loneliness, death. The worst things in my life had happened in the dark. Everything bad always happens in the dark.

"Good, because they're just dying to come in." Frank smirked, but before he could leave I talked to him again.

"WAIT!" He laughed. "So.... um..." I trailed off and he laughed.
"They won't hurt you." He rolled his eyes. "At least I hope not." He smirked and then opened the door wide. Four men were standing right out the door. They slowly entered, one by one. The first one had blond hair and thick glasses. His face was serious and he wore the glasses at the tip of his nose. He was tall and thin, and looked a bit awkward. The second to enter has this massive head of hair and a little shy smile. He was kind of tall and wouldn't look me in the eyes. Third came a large fellow with white-blond hair and crisp, blue eyes. He looked really dissatisfied with life, and like he didn't really want to be there.

Finally in came a man with brilliant amber eyes, and jet black hair. His skin was incredibly pale and there was a smirk on his lips. I looked in to his right hand and saw him clutching my backpack. And something tells me he had seen what was inside, and he also wasn't far too eager to give it up.

Notes

Idk I hope you like it? I'll post more tomorrow.