Frankie looked at the paper in his hand, and then back up at the number on the dorm door. He was in the basement of the building, and there was only one room on the entire floor. He assumed it must have been big, but A, couldn't tell from the outside, and B was too nervous to notice.

The swirly, luminescent white 13 looked taunting and very stand-out-ish against the black wood door. And the fact that there was an old-fashion knocker-thing (Frank didn't know what to call it) instead of a doorbell was more unsettling to him.

And then there was the fact that the lady who gave her the paper told him to be very nice to his “special” roommate, along with the fact that her skin was strangely white. Strangely smooth.

Frankie grabbed the cold thing that was on the door, and knocked once, really quietly, too frightened to do more than that; though his efforts seemed to have paid off regardless, as he heard small scuffling sounds, almost too quiet to be noticed, seemingly too quiet to be human. Frankie popped a few skittles into his mouth and chewed too hard, and too fast. He felt his teeth come in contact with his tongue, but he didn't have time to stop his jaw. He tasted the strange metallic taste that blood as coming off of it, as the door swung open, and a tall figure loomed over him in the doorway.

He was too scared to scream, and already in pain, so he squeaked in terror, but not much more sound came out.

The figure chuckled, but didn't sound thoroughly amused.

“You must be the Iero they promised me,” came a beautiful, lucid voice.

“And, you must be the..... roommate they promised me?” Frank said, in a small voice. He cowered a little bit under the stare of the male in front of him.

“You're my first roommate. Don't fuck it up. 'Kay, Iero?” He partially growled. Though, even his growl had a sweet, beautiful tone to it.

“Uhm, don't worry. I wouldn't.... I don't.... Uh, call me Frank.”

His new roommate chuckled again, from under his long hair, who's colour he couldn't make out, because of the white light flooding out of the room behind him. Frankie still couldn't see his face properly. His roommate pivoted to the side, and swept his long, thin – though well built – arm in a grand gesture, motioning Frank to step inside.

There were four rooms, albeit huge. One was a bathroom, and through the door Frank could see deep, red coloured walls, and a black, comfortable looking love seat.; which, to him, seemed unnecessary, but, hey. He couldn't really judge, could he? The room he was in had a queen-sized bed which black and white blankets, and the walls were black as well, but there were hand-prints in red paint in a very creative, struggling sort of style. Made Frank think of hot, kinky sex.

(No, Frankie! Moving on!)

The third room was a kitchen, fancy chromed appliances and all.
The last room was white, completely spotless, and seemingly black. There was a king sized bed in this room, with plain white bedsheets and blankets, and pillows. It look extremely comfortable to a sleepy Frankie. Frankie yawned, and then became re-aware of the presence behind him by a small giggle, that seemed rather sincere, and for some reason made Frank smile.

He turned and for the first time actually got a good look at his roommate.

Long, black hair that reached about his shoulders, and was slightly layered, and straight with the exception of it curving in towards his face in a very nice way at the bottom. Large green eyes with an amazing fringe of eyelashes, and dark circles under his eyes; which in some way seemed to enhance them as well. He was tall, and lean, and had teeth that were perfect, and straight, and glittered like diamonds. And, not that Frank was gay to his awareness, he found his new roommate rather beautiful. Though, one thing disturbed him slightly. His skin was as shockingly pale as the office lady's.

“My name is Gerard,” he said, laughing at the fact that Frank had been so blatantly staring at him. “That white room is yours, Frankie.”

“Uhm, thanks.” (Wait, did he just call me Frankie? I mean, not that I mind, but, I did tell him that my name was just Frank, right? So, like, is this a pet-name?)

“Well you seem comfortable! I'm sorry, do I make you feel awkward? Well, anyways. The room is white so that you can do whatever you want in there. We've got lots of paint in the closet in the office, and I've got access and stuff. So, if you want to do something, a great idea or something, I can help you paint and stuff, if I feel up to it. I mean, you'll probably need the help, Short Stuff,” he winked, then ran his fingers through Frank's sorta short, dark hair briefly; combing out the small tangles.

Part of him felt awkward, but part of him longed to have Gerard's fingers in his hair again.

(Frank, you're such a weirdo! Stop it!)

“I'm gonna go grab your bags from the office, 'kay, Frankie? Do whatever you want until I'm back – though I suggest going into your room and seeing whatcha wanna do in there?” And with that he was gone.

(I think that guys fucking with my head), Frankie thought, walking into his room and flopping his small frame onto the bed.