“Frank, get your lazy ass up, and go to school you little fucker!”

Frank was used to it by now, his mom yelling up from the end of the hallway every morning. He dragged himself off the bed, and threw on something, clothes he hoped. Trudging out of his room, he saw that his mother’s door was closed, and heard a faint click of the lock. A huge smile spread across his sleepy face, and soon enough he was out at the curb waiting for Bob.

“Hello.”

Frank jumped, because like, fucking Mikey Way was standing next to his mailbox, and literally scared the shit out of him. “Uh, hi?” he mumbled around his blueberry poptart, frostingless of course. Mikey just nodded, and continued to play with the strings on his black hoodie. “It’s like, fucking, 90 degrees dude.”

The skinny kid turned towards Frank and looked at him seriously through a pair of dark glasses. “I noticed.” he said in a monotone voice, and then turned back towards the road. Bob pulled up about right then, Ray’s face lolling on the right side of the backseat, sleeping like the dead.

“Get in asshole.” Bob croaked, and then saw Mikey. “Hop on in, MIkeyway.” he said smirking, his cheeks tinged a bit red. Frank raised an eyebrow, but got in the front seat of the Volvo. Bob started the car and they were off to school.

~

It was BDay. Fucking BDay and Frank was already hyperventilating in the boys bathroom, quaking inside one of the nasty stalls. “Oh shit, Oh shit.” he muttered repeatedly under his breathe because, because they somehow double blocked his classes, somehow, Frank ended up taking Dramatic Arts and Theatre in one semester. Both with Mr.Way. Both with this guy, vampire, demon thing he kind of had some weird ass bite fetish crush on, who was also a guy. A man. Not like, some pre-pubetic teenage boy, but a full grown man. Who had really nice musculars arms, and after-sex hair all the time, and a hot jaw.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

And the worst of all was, he was itching to see him. Frank wasn’t anticipating seeing him, No, he was itching, like under the skin itch. An itch that means “I want to push you up against a fucking wall, and drag my hands down your skin, mark the fuck out of you. Bruise you, show you’re mine. Mine.” That kind of itch. And he had class with him in exactly Four hours and Thirty-Two minutes. His last class, again, and he was thinking of every way possible to avoid him.

Frank whimpered, bringing his hand up to his neck. The bite had been throbbing for at least three hours, making shivers run up and down his back, like some kind of vibrating fever that felt really exhilarating and also fucking deadly. He sucked in a breath, and heard the bathroom door open.

“Frank? Frank, you in here dude?” some kid from his Biology class, who Mrs.Trick must have sent. “You’ve been in here for like, twenty minutes.”

Frank crawled off the toilet, and opened the door. “Coming.” he sighed, his feet making squeaky scraping noises on the nasty tile. “I said I’m coming!” the kid gets the idea, and dashed out like a madman. Frank looks at himself in the mirror, and his breath hitches. He looks really young, definitely not two months away from being an adult. He still had some baby chub on his face, and a tiny nose. Really tiny. And his light brown hair had blonde bleached on the top and sides, blending all weird and unnatural. He wasn’t ugly- not at all. He was just washed out.

“Gotta go to fucking Biology.” he mutters, and walks out of the bathroom, wooden door swinging on it’s hinges. The hallway is empty, and he notices all the weird diagrams his teachers hang up. Who wants to stare at the genetalia of a sloth? Not Frank.

His teacher smiles when he gets to the room, all sickly sweet and disgusting. “Why, Franklin, How nice of you to show up!” Mrs.Trick points to his Lab desk near the back where his kind of friend Lola is sitting.

“Hi,” she whispers when Frank sits down in his seat, and he just nods solemnly at her, as she tucks a piece of purple hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong?”

Frank sighs, and starts to say “Everything,” when Mrs.Trick sends him a glare from hell, and then resumes talking about, like, some Darwin guy. “I'll tell you later, ‘k?” Lola nods, and starts to jot down some stuff in her curly writing she has. Frank starts to fall asleep, seeing this is he least favorite fucking class, and yes it’s only day two, but he just knows.

“Frank!”

Lola’s shaking his arm furiously, and he looks up. Mrs.Trick is giving him the fucking evil eye, so he just huffs. “Yeah?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Well, I apparently didn’t hear it.”

The whole class just kind of got really quiet, and Mrs.Trick just stared. “Well, then. I guess you’ll just have to pay better attention.” the lady stuttered out, she almost looked scared. Lola was staring at Frank with her mouth open a little, and so were the other kids. He shot them a glare and they all went back to taking boring notes.

“What was that?” Lola hissed, not looking Frank in the eyes.

“What was what?”

She shuddered, and looked harder at her inky pen moving over the notepad. “How you said it. It was like, you just...” Lola looked like she was trying to find the right words for it. “Frank, you growled at the teacher.” Frank blinked a bit, trying to deny that, but then the bell rang, and it was time for lunch.

~

“Dude.” Ray said, as he sat down on his jacket next to Frank in the courtyard, “You told off a teacher? Rad man.”

Frank poked at his carrot sticks. “Not rad, man. Lola said I like, hissed at her. Like what the hell?” he popped one of the orange sticks into his mouth, teeth crunching on it. It tasted dry, but food was food. Ray poked Frank’s arm, and he looked up, seeing a once again, cloaked Mikey Way, and big buff burly Bob towering over him.

“Hey, guys.” he said, kneeling onto the shaded grass, bottle of gatorade, blue as usual, falling with a hard thud. “Tough day?” Mikey stared at the grass before carefully lowering himself onto it, making sure his hood didn't drift down, and pulled a dark green bottle out of his hoodie pocket, undoing the lid carefully.

Ray chuckled, eyes drifting over Mikey before cracking a smile. “Nah. Same old.” he took a huge bite out of his rueben sandwich right then, and Frank wanted to barf. Meat, gross.

“How did you get into Mason League, Mikey?” Bob asks, eye twinkling as he pops a chip into his mouth.

Mikey’s mouth turns up a bit, “Bass.”

“Really? I got in because I play guitar.” Ray say’s, smiling.

“Guitar? What about you, Bob?”

Bob sighs, “Drums.”

Mikey nods, and looks altogether curious, before eyes drifting over to Frank, who seems to be in his own world, eyebrows furrowed. “What about him?”

“Guitar,” Ray starts, a few stray curls getting into his face, “Writing, Photography, and vocals.” he looks at his best friend, “He doesn't think he’s talented.”

“He can also draw ghosts.” Bob adds in, pointing at his note book littered with doodles.

“He can also draw ghosts."

Mikey and Ray start to get into a heated discussion about the benefits of Dungeons and Dragons when Bob slaps Frank's hand.

" What the fuck dude?" Frank cries, rubbing his pink knuckles.

Bob just glares, "I thought you said it was just makeup." He pulls Frank's shirt back and pokes at the two bite marks which are inflamed. "You've been itching them for the last fifteen minutes."

Mikey gets stiff, and Frank looks cool and collected(ly pissed) on the outside, but on the inside he's going fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshitfuck. "Its actually a dog bite "

If the boys could see behind Mikey’s dark glasses, they would know it was not a dog bite. He knew Frank was lying, he could smell his hot sweat dripping down his neck, every pore screaming 'vampire bite!' . "It is. Frank told me he was afraid to tell you, dude."

Frank raises his eyebrows at Mikey, not expecting him to back his lie, but quickly goes blanked faced.

"Okay. But I'm still pissed at you, for lying that is." Bob says, narrowing his eyes. The bell rings then, a little late for Frank's liking, but also perfect timing.

"Bye guys!" He says, waving at his friends who are all exchanging weird looks, as he dashes inside and down the Mason League hallway, where he finally slows down.

The walls, Frank notes, are not like the others. This hallway was named after the school because its what its about- art. The walls are flaming with vibrant colors, collages of sketches and pastels drawn clowns, to calm brown linseed oil infused pottery. Music constantly floats throughout the corridor, at all hours, accompanying a range of dialects and click clack of paintbrushes.

It seemed like a home away from home, for Frank.

This was always his favorite part of the day, or had been, since he was accepted as a Freshman at the Mason League School of the Gifted. They told him "You son, have exceptional talent for a young man your age!" And plop- he was then an an official Mason Leaguer, Go Banshees!

The end of the school day, they told him, was for whatever he wanted to do. Photography, Writing, Art, Music. In the first two years he leaned towards guitar, and some Chorus, before drifting towards Literature, Writing, and Acting. Last year he had decided to use his Senior year to explore his artistic side.

And look where it had gotten him.

Frank jumped from foot to foot, nervously, before reaching out and grabbing the door handle. He walked in, avoiding eye contact and got into a seat in the back corner, pulling his green long sleeve further down his arms before crossing them. His eyes quickly scanned the room for his teacher- but he didn't see him. He saw many other people, mostly drama geeks, not really his crowd but he liked writing, and so if Theatre was what he could use it in, then he would take the opportunity.

The only person he really likes was Brendon, a bubbly guy who was totally out of the closet. Frank wasn't homophobic, he didn't mind the kid who liked to coat on strawberry lip gloss and wear tight shirts with low slung jeans that had bottle caps sewn into the waistband. Brendon was just the kind of guy everyone likes - if you don't mind a lot of talking and bubblegum being snapped every ten seconds.

"Hiya, Frankie!" Brendon said as he slipped into the seat next to Frank, letting his homemade patchwork bag hit the pink tiles. "Long time no see, babe."

Frank giggled, "Hi Brendon." Did I mention Brendon flirted with everybody? No? So anyways, while the other kids with hipster glasses and Beanies chatted away, Brendon and Frank were getting cuddly. Not romantically, it was just how their relationship was. "How has your Junior year been?"

"It's day two," Brendon remarked, trailing his fingertips along Franks arm, "I would say good, noting that hot new Freshie!" He rolled his eyes, puckering his pink lips. "Ryan Ross? Heard of him?"

Frank nodded, he had. Brendon started to ramble about how cute the new kid was, distracting Frank from Mr.Way entering the room. Today he had on a pair of tight black jeans, a thin red sweater, and some kind of layered Hogwarts style scarf. Oh, and a pair of black leather biker boots.

"Hello, Children," He said with a smirk, "This is my first theatre class so be behaved, or at least try. It is theatre." The class chuckled at this, and Frank finally looked up, noticing his teacher gazing at his class. He hadn't seen Frank quite yet.

"Now tell me, kids, what is theatre about?" Mr.Way said, pacing down the long stretch of room. Some girl with dark brown skin and blue eyes raised her hand. "Yes?"

She cleared her throat, "Theatre is about being somebody else." She said with a confident smile.

Mr.Way put his hands together, sighing. "Wrong! Theatre is about expression. Pair up, show me expression. Give me an emotion." The class stared at him, "Now!" He said, flapping his hand, golden eyes widening.

Brendon leaned over to Frank just then, tugging on his arm. They got out of there seats like the rest of the class, and started to discuss an emotion. Mr.Way casually strode around the class of 50 students or so, observing. Frank was nervous.

"Anger. I want to do anger." Brendon said smiling, but Frank made a huffing noise.

"Anger? How about-"

Brendon grabbed Frank's hand, making big brown glitter lined doe eyes at him. "Please?" He said giving a soft smile. Frank just rolled his own eyes and nodded, making Brendon squeal in delight. "Yay! Okay, so insult me."

"Say what now?"

"Insult me silly! Make me mad, make me feisty!"

Frank scratched at his neck, "um okay." He thought for a moment. "You're makeup is thicker than Chicago Deep Dish Pizza." Brendon gaped at him and crossed his petite arms around his chest.

"You're so short, you still have to measure yourself at the carnival to ride rides."

"That top is so out of date, even poor kids cry at the sight of you."

"Slut."

"Asshole."

"Whore!" Brendon choked out, trying not to laugh to hard, and pulled Frank into a hug. Frank had started to crack after the carnival insult, he was breathing in and out when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around quickly.

It was Mr.Way .

Apparently, Mr.Way didn't know it was Frank because his eyes flickered from warm golden to a dark hazel in seconds. He licked his red lips, and Frank could practically smell the anger coming off of him. Brendon didn't seem to notice, too busy tracing circles on Frank's shoulder, one arm linked around his waist.

"So , what's your emotion." Mr.Way said coldly, but Brendon just smiled.

"It was anger! But we got carried away."

Mr.Way's eyes flicked from Brendon's arm curled around Frank and back up to his eyes. "Very good." He said turning away, "Oh and Frank? See me after class." Frank just nodded, and miraculously, the bell rang.

Brendon unlinked himself from Frank, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye Frankie! Good luck!" He called and skipped out of the room. Frank waved and then waited until everyone else left the room before turning towards his teacher. Mr.Way was closing the door, and then flipped back towards Frank.

"Mr.Way, I-"

Mr.Way held up his hand, "Call me-"

"Gerard." Frank breathed. Be hoped he was right, and by the looks of his teacher, he was.

"How did you know that?" Gerard said, running a hand through his thick black hair "My name."

Frank twiddled his fingers " Um, it just came to me."

"Oh."

"Oh."

Frank stared back up at his teacher, eyes trained on each other. Somehow in sync they moved closer. "You just knew?" Frank nodded, feeling Gerard's hot breath go over his face. "You know...I can't stop thinking about you. Your taste. I can't- your smell. Frank I don't think-"

Frank leaned in right then, his small lips going over Gerard's softly, and then the older man growled, tugging Frank closer, crashing his lips hard into Frank's, pulling hard on the silver lip ring with his teeth.

"Can't do this" Gerard huffed between kisses, "If you don't mean it."

"I mean it."

Gerard pulled away, "What?"

"I want this. You're making me crazy." Frank said, and then grabbed a handful of Gerard's black hair, making his mouth crash back into Gerard's. Their teeth clanked, and Frank could feel the faint poke of fangs on his lips, touching his tongue. "Fangs, god that feels odd."

Gerard laughed and pulled away, eyes a stormy hazel. "What is between you and that Urie boy?"

"Nothing"

Suddenly, Frank was pinned against the wall, hands digging into his hips. "Don't lie, Frank." Gerard's hot mouth was hovering over Frank's pulse, making him squirm.

"I'm not!" He begged, "I swear I'm not!"

Gerard nodded, leaning in closer to the marked patch of skin. "I believe you. You want this Frankie? Want me to bite you?"

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease! Fuck- please!"

Gerard rested his lips against Frank's neck, trailing kisses up until he had his mouth hovering on the twin marks. He slowly began to swirl his tongue around them, his saliva sealing the two, not even leaving a scar. "Can I mark you Frankie?"

"Please."

Gerard ran his fingers up and down Frank's torso, his shirt pushed up from the hard kissing. Gerard rested his head against Frank's shoulder for a moment, looking down at the bare skin- or not so bare. He ran his thumbs over the marks. "What are these?"

Frank pressed closer, "They're swallows." Gerard nodded, looking back up at Frank to make sure he was still okay with being marked. His green eyes were wide, pupils huge. He smiled a bit. "I like it when your eyes do that." Frank said, observing Gerard.

"Do what?"

"The color thing. They go from gold to green, and then sometimes black and hazel." Frank said, "They just got really green when I said that."

Gerard raised his eyebrows, "My eyes change colors?"

"Well, yeah." Frank blushed " But only when you look at me."

Gerard leaned in and started to kiss Frank's jaw, smirking against the soft tan skin when he heard Frank purring. Purring. He finally got his lips rested onto the pulsing hot point on Frank's neck, considering or not of he was sure.

"Now. Now, please now."

Gerard sunk his fangs in, white hot pleasure flooding his body, thick red blood running over his tongue. The taste of Frank was like cinnamon toast and coffee, nicotine and clover. He tasted like spring water and it was the best, just, Frank. All Frank. He twisted his fangs, causing Frank to howl out a long string of curse words, his legs wrapping around Gerard's torso.

Gerard pulled his teeth out, making Frank whine and dig his long fingers ruthlessly through Gerard's hair, before plunging his fangs right back in again. Biting somebody, and having that somebody enjoy it, was like a reward. He'd never had any human or host enjoy a bite. Ever. Gerard scraped his bottom teeth over the soft skin, licking at the gouges his top fangs were still in.

Frank was arching off the wall, mewling, and - Was that a moan? Moaning. Gerard was humming against his neck, the vibrations pulsing through his teeth and straight into Frank's body. He wasn't even drinking blood from Frank anymore, just twisting and nibbling and marking. Letting other Vampires, and humans know that Frank was his to claim.

His.

He could feel Frank start to calm down a bit, exhaustion flooding Gerard's taste buds. He pulled his teeth out, both of them breathing deeply.

"That was, that was amazing." Frank said, his breath huffing against Gerard's collar bone.

"Definitely"

Gerard put Frank back down on the floor, his knees wobbling a bit. It wasn't uncommon, for he had just been claimed.

"I'm fucking tired." Frank slurred, and Gerard laughed.

"Of course you are. Let's get you home, Pansy." Frank nodded, letting Gerard pick him up bridal style. He couldn't help think what he would tell Mikey?

Not yet, no.

Notes

Sorry for taking so long. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH.

UH. VAMPY VAMPS.

Goodnight Lovelies,
XoXo Sage