Chapter Text
There was something off about that evening, something that Frank couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was just an echo of a feeling in his guts, which he had chosen to ignore, rubbing his neck and almost being able to hear how his muscles ached under his sun-burned skin.
The school had started only weeks ago but the summer refused to go, the last remaining weeks of heat determinately lingering on New Jersey’s streets, and making everyone wish they could spent more time outdoors while the good weather still lasted.
Almost everyone, that was.
The sun was slowly setting and Frank was sitting on the sidewalk, his skateboard resting against his feet and his last cigarette lit in between his lips. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes to the euphoric sensation of his lungs being filled with smoke, which he blew out of his mouth seconds later and dumped the cigarette on the asphalt.
The last sparks danced on the ground before fading away.
It was a warm august evening, the star closest to Frank’s least favorite planet was slowly being pulled below the horizon, and the quiet street bathed in orange and burgundy sunbeams. It was silent, really silent, and something about that made Frank restless. He tried to listen carefully for footsteps, the ones he knew he would recognize, but there were none; he sighed, rubbing cigarette ash in between his fingers thoughtfully.
Motherfucker was late, again.
Ever since Frank had approached Gerard in biology class many, many years ago in middle school’s first weeks, most of his evenings had been full of exactly this - waiting for Gerard, losing the track of time and stubbornly denying that he actually liked the other’s company rather than just being used to it, what he usually said if someone asked anything about them.
To this age, Frank hadn’t quite understood the whole fuss about company, or friends, or why there had to be so many of them for a guy to feel complete. Frank felt like a whole person without.
Someone closed a garage door somewhere nearby and the slam reminded Frank of a gunshot. The sound mirrored across the street sending chilly pulses up Frank's nerve-system. When he closed his eyes he could see colors. It felt a little early for a fall flu, but for some people, some people like Frank, being ill was more like a default state than a rare occurrence.
Frank waited for another good ten minutes until Gerard finally bothered to show up. The chubby boy was half-walking, half-jogging down the street, panting quite heavily due to walking so fast, and there were a few drops of sweat on his forehead.
Frank looked at the clothes the other had on - a black sweater and black jeans - and compared the outfit to his own. Frank wasn’t really the fashion-kind of guy, he mostly just wore whatever was convenient and covered him up enough to be considered decent, but Gerard was on a whole another level with his terrible clothing choices.
“Aren’t you dying in those?” Frank asked, referring to the outfit that looked like a home-made Darth Vader costume, and was most likely putting the older boy in a risk of a severe heat stroke.
“I forgot how hot it still is” Gerard replied, visibly annoyed, “fuck summer.”
“’s because you never fucking go outside.” Frank grinned.
Frank was aware, and had been ever since social norms had become something that mattered, that the two of them were quite a sight sometimes because of their visual differences - Gerard being the most generic loser hiding in his parents’ basement and mostly walking around in clothes that could’ve belonged to a future serial killer, and Frank himself, usually dressed in shorts and t-shirts, tanned arms and weather-beaten hands tugged in his pockets, and his messy gingery (dyed, because he was that cool) hair put up in spikes with styling gel. But it didn’t really matter to them because as much as their outlooks might've differed from each other, they shared sarcasm, a whole bunch of horrible memories and a burning passion in bands like misfits.
Passion, which was bordering on an obsession at times and really concerned Frank's grandmother.
“Fuck you” Gerard looked around almost nervously and Frank hadn’t still gotten around to ask why Gerard was always checking his surroundings like he was worried about something, “So, what’s the plan?”
“There’s no plan” Frank shrugged, “What’ya wanna do?” He was kind of hoping for something - it was stupid, he thought - an adventure. Because unlike other dungeons and dragons jerk-offs who lacked the slightest hint of any normal human skills, Gerard actually had an incredible imagination outside the fictional universe as well. And somehow Frank couldn’t imagine a day where he wasn’t putting Gerard’s adventures into action. Frank liked to think of himself as the executor for the other's vision.
“Oh you’re gonna love this” Gerard’s face lit. Frank guessed that the older boy had expected this, but being too withdrawn he usually didn't tell without being asked.
Frank stood up and leaned against his skateboard, smiling devilishly.
“Lemme hear it.”
Gerard smiled; “Let’s break into the Miller house.”
The Miller house was a local, abandoned building which had earned its reputation as a teenager scare-off, everyone’s favorite haunted house of the neighborhood. No one really knew what had happened here, or rather, everyone seemed to know far too well, but the story was always different depending on who was telling it.
The only thing that was agreed on was that you did not go into the Miller house, especially if you were there without a permission.
This unspoken rule, quite obviously, had made the house a very popular place for teenagers to sneak in when they wanted to feel rebellious or otherwise act stupid, but Frank had personally never been in there. If he was being honest, the house really gave him the creeps; its wild garden looked like it was growing on rotting corpses, and it was really easy to imagine what kind of unimaginable horrors there could possibly be hiding behind those dirty windows and creaky staircases and flaking paint. If some place in Jersey was haunted, it was that house, and Frank wasn’t exactly a sceptical person.
“The Miller house?” Frank repeated.
“The Miller house.” Gerard seemed awfully proud of himself for coming up with something so stupid, “You in, or what?”
“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.” Frank exclaimed and Gerard’s face darkened in a matter of seconds, but Frank offered him a high five: “Of course I’m in.”
***
Frank was going to abandon his skateboard outside and leave it resting against the fence, but after Gerard insisted that he’d take it with him and use it as a weapon if someone, or something was to attack them, Frank picked up the board and carried it under his arm even though he was fairly sure that a ghost would not be too bothered by being hit with a skateboard, no matter how heavy.
It was starting to get a little bit darker by a second as Gerard examined the lock of the fence while Frank stared at the garden and the house almost doubtfully. This felt like a bad idea, but Frank had grown up to love bad ideas. That's what growing up attached by the hip with Gerard Way had been like.
“Hurry up, Houdini” Frank scoffed when Gerard cursed, poking at the lock with a hairpin - which he had stolen from his mom, he had explained rather proudly - “I don’t have all night.”
“Don’t you?” Gerard hissed, turning the lock in his hand for another angle. A stray cat meowed somewhere nearby but remained unseen, otherwise it was still very quiet. There was not a house located exactly directly next to the Miller house, neither side, everyone lived a proper distance away from the house’s radius like it carried a contagious disease.
Frank was still a little bit nervous about being caught before they even got inside because he bet that the neighbors were already used of curious fuckers like them sneaking in. But the street stayed silent as ever, sleepy, almost like everyone had already gotten to bed even though it was barely 9PM.
“Whatever”, Frank got sick of waiting when after, many unsuccessful attempts later, Gerard still hadn’t opened the lock, “I’m climbing.”
“Wait.” Gerard frowned and glanced at the other, “Maybe you, but what about me?”
“Come on, pansy” Frank rolled his eyes, “It’s not that high. Even you can do that. Now come here and I’ll give you a push.”
Frank was right – the fence wasn’t exactly high, especially for Gerard who was clearly the taller one of the two. The fence was about the height of his shoulders, made of bricks and cement slammed together carelessly like whoever had built it had only wanted the job to be done quickly, no matter the result.
The only problem with the fence was that Gerard was possibly the very definition of unathletic and he was very self-conscious about anything that even remotely resembled exercise, but Frank’s impatient look made him shrug off his uncomfortable feeling and put his arms on the fence, biting his lip and trying to pull up his own weight as Frank proceeded to give him a push, grabbing his knees and practically lifting the older boy.
Rather ungracefully Gerard balanced himself on the fence, sitting and staring down at the bushes below, trying to decide whether or not it was safe to jump.
“Poison Ivy” Gerard said with a dull tone, “We’re gonna fucking die.”
“Nah, we’re not” Frank threw his beloved skateboard over the fence carelessly, startling Gerard a bit and making a flock of birds take wing from the nearby trees.
After Frank had thrown the board, he then took a few step backs to make some room between him and the fence that almost his height, only to sprint and grab the fence in the speed, jumping on it lightly and casually like it was not a big deal at all.
“Show-off.” Gerard laughed.
“Nerd.” Frank shoved Gerard almost causing the other to fall, “The last one on the porch likes country music.” Frank dropped down before Gerard had even time to blink – the skater landed skillfully on his feet and only swayed a little before grabbing his skateboard and running towards the house almost as if he couldn’t even feel the overgrown weeds sticking onto his clothes.
Gerard mumbled, “Oh fuck you” Under his breath before following the other, jumping off the fence much less delicately than Frank had, almost landing on his face, and then proceeding to jog towards the house where Frank was already standing by the front door, inspecting it like there were going to be signs of some kind of paranormal activity even on the outside of the house, which now when they were really up close and personal with, didn’t feel that creepy at all. There were abandoned, dumped cigarettes and empty beer cans laying all over, messy graffiti spray-painted on the plank-sealed windows. Frank even spotted a used condom hanging from the wall, nailed on it like some kind of a trophy.
He pointed at it and waved Gerard to look, “Some douche pops boners by being scared shitless.”
“Are you scared shitless?” Gerard tried to peek inside the window but saw nothing, his clothes damping with sweat even though the heat was now slowly losing its grip as the sun went down, “’cause I’m kinda unimpressed.”
“We haven’t been inside yet” Frank reminded the other boy, even though he had to agree on the place being far less scary now that he was actually witnessing it rather than just dreading from afar, “No one’s ever said they’ve seen anything weird on the porch. So come on.”
“Wait” Gerard stopped the other while he was aiming a kick to the front door, clearly planning on breaking it instead of even trying to open it, “What if there’s actually like… ghosts in there?”
“Don’t worry”, Frank consoled sarcastically and repositioned himself, putting the skateboard down for a moment so that he could use his whole body’s strength for the kick, “I’m sure they’ll just be frightened of your smell.”
“Oh fuck you” Gerard repeated once again, crossing his arms around his torso almost protectively and looking closely as Frank concentrated to breaking the door down. Which he in fact, did – the door had clearly been pulled off of its hinges before and it didn’t take much for it to yank open, revealing a way to inside the haunted house, which in this light pretty much looked like a regular house, just a little dustier.
“Ladies first”, Frank gave a mocking nod at the hallway even though he couldn’t quite hide the hesitant expression that had suddenly risen on his face. Gerard sensed that Frank was much more serious than what he insisted to be, which would’ve been a lot funnier if Gerard had been any more confident.
Which he wasn’t, so he simply argued;
“Why don’t you go first? You were in a hurry before.”
“Fine” Frank rolled his eyes, “At the same time?” He picked up his skateboard and silently thanked himself for taking it with him, allowing him even some kind of an illusion of being able to defend himself if needed.
“Fair enough,” Gerard looked around him and noticed a stone, suitable to been put in between the door and the frame so that the door wouldn’t lock behind them, even if it was unlikely. He picked up the rock and placed it carefully, even testing if it would stop the door if a sudden breeze would try and slam the door shut.
It stayed open.
“Great” Frank hugged his skateboard and looked at Gerard from behind it, “We’re going in?”
“Yeah” Gerard nodded hastily, pretending that he wasn’t even having even the smallest of second thoughts about this “We can’t just stand here all night.”
“Watch out, poltergeist” Frank muttered, “Here comes the loser division.” He grabbed Gerard’s wrist with his free hand and walked in, pulling the older boy behind him like he was protecting his backside with a human shield. Gerard noticed this but was secretly happy about not having to lead, so he followed without a complaint.
The Miller house was pretty much exactly how Gerard had imagined it to be; according to his knowledge, the house had been empty for about a ten or fifteen years now, which made it some kind of a window to the past; everything looked exactly like it did from old photographs Gerard sometimes had to look at with his grandparents. Everything was covered in thick, unbreathable dust which dried both of their lungs and made them cough; the air was stale and made it hard to swallow, the floorboards creaked under their steps no matter how cautious they were.
“Woah hey, look” Frank gulped harshly and Gerard pressed his hands into sweaty fists, “Look at that tag.”
“Which one?”
Even though there was not as much trash inside the house as there had been on the porch, there were still a lot of signs about uninvited and unwanted visitors; Frank noticed something that looked like a guitar pick on the living room coffee table, and there were a bunch of stuff written all over the walls like everyone had wanted to prove physically that they had been brave enough to come in and stay here for a while.
“That one” Frank pointed at a clean, nicely done green letter T on the left side wall of the living room, “Looks familiar?”
“Yeah, that’s Ray’s, isn’t it?” Gerard tilted his head thoughtfully, scrunching his face and rubbing one eye like he always did when he was thinking, “I actually think he might’ve mentioned about it… some time…”
“Not surprised”, Frank shrugged, giving a final glance at the tag before it lost off all of its appeal, “I’m pretty sure he’ll paint on every wall on Jersey by the age of twenty-one.”
“You’re underestimating him.” Gerard grinned.
Ray Toro was one of those people that everyone kind of loved for no apparent reason other than he had never done injustice to anyone, gaining nothing but friends and not a single enemy in the process that was High School. He was one of those people who managed to fly under the radar even though logically thinking there was a lot of things about him to pick on; take for example his Puerto Rican roots which had blessed him with a significant appearance, a pair of very dark eyes, full lips and an out-of-control curly hair that he usually tied into a ponytail or kept out of his face with a bandana. Although he was artistic, he had never been drawn to staying indoors so he was tanned and fit, and he probably could’ve slam dunked a guy like Frank in a basket just for fun if he wanted to.
It was not a secret that at his teens Ray had become more interested in politics, which had quickly resulted in social awareness and general pissed-offness. Around the same time he had found street art which had eventually opened another world for Ray – a world, where all of public property had now become his canvas. And what better way to be an activist then painting, Gerard had always agreed on that, from time to time attempting to befriend the Puerto Rico born punk he looked up to. Gerard had never been successful, though; not that Ray had purposely ignored him or anything, but Gerard was generally awkward and befriending people wasn’t exactly what he was good at.
“Ghostie ghostie.” Frank kicked one of the empty beer cans, causing a cloud of dust rise on the air and making them both cough. “Where are you, ghostie?”
“Don’t” Gerard hissed and tried to punch Frank’s arm but missed when the other dodged, “In case there’s… I mean, don’t piss it off.”
“There’s nothing in here, Gerard.” Frank said stubbornly, but he was not as sure about it as he wanted the other to believe. In fact, he actually thought that he could hear a weird noise coming from inside the walls, like insects crawling, and it gave him goose bumps. He had also noticed, how oddly cold it was inside the house, considering the heat wave that had tortured the state for several weeks now; it was a bit unnatural, and Frank had to admit it to himself. But there was no way in hell he was going to admit any of this to Gerard.
“Fine.” Gerard rolled his eyes a bit too dramatically for it to seem genuine, “Whatever. I’m going upstairs.”
“Great. I’m coming with you” Frank held the skateboard closer to his chest like a child and followed the other boy hastily up the creaky stairs, not quite managing to hide how afraid of being left behind he really was. Sure, he could act brave for all he wanted, but alone he was going to die that much was certain. What if there really was some kind of paranormal activity going on in here, Frank reasoned. All urban legends had their origins. And something weird there was about this place. Something was off.
“Oh shit” Gerard breathed when he reached the top of the stairs, and Frank blinked and gulped worriedly.
“What?” Frank’s voice was small and thin.
“Is that… is that blood?”
Gerard sounded more fascinated than creeped out, which really creeped Frank out even more. He hadn’t signed up for actually facing some gross crime scene of mental breakdown or anything. Who knew what had happened here – Frank tried to dig up all the versions of the story from his memory, only getting them mixed up with all the horror movies he had watched in his life. Frank remembered something about murder, something about domestic violence, something sad and tragic and blah-blah.
He started to think that he probably should’ve listened to the stories more carefully. Instead of a bad, this began to feel like a terrible idea.
“Blood?”
“I dunno” Gerard waved Frank to come closer so that they were standing on the same step, staring at a damp, dark stain on the wall facing the stairs. Next to it was a door that clearly led to a bedroom. “I mean, it could be. But it could be like, strawberry jam too for all we know.”
“Yes, Gerard” Frank found his voice unnecessary hysteric, “because there’s nothing like good strawberry jam spirit to haunt a whole house.”
“I thought you didn’t believe this place was haunted” Gerard glanced at Frank rather baffled. Gerard’s hands were shaking in the pockets of his hoodie, but he felt relatively calm now that he was clearly the one with more sense. He was secretly happy about proving his plan had been good; another afternoon changed into a less-boring one.
“Fine, maybe I believe just a little” Frank admitted, frowning. His forehead was full of big, thoughtful wrinkles and he was biting his tongue. For some reason, not having anything securing his backside made him really concerned about his safety.
Just as Gerard was about to say something sarcastic about Frank changing his mind quickly the door, which Gerard had made sure to stay open before they entered the house, slammed in forcefully like in the middle of a family fight.
Frank bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, his face running bloodless and sweat appearing on his forehead. He didn’t want to turn around but he did, gripping Gerard’s wrist as he was holding his chest and mouth hanging wide open.
“What the –“ Gerard whispered.
“Police!” Came an authoritative voice from downstairs, “This house is private property! I know you’re in there, the neighbors called. Playtime is over, boys.”
“Shit” Frank cursed, “Fucking… shit.” Without a second thought he pulled Gerard by the hand further upstairs, not daring to look back. Frank knew that the best idea was now to avoid being seen, which was not going to be an easy task. Ignoring the fact that the cops could hear the boys’ steps through the thin floor, he ran down the upstairs hallway going through his options in a speed of sound in his head.
Gerard was no use; he let Frank drag him, but he still seemed to be in a shock. Gerard didn’t have as much experience running from cops, Frank guessed.
“Fire ladder” Frank breathed as he heard the cop’s approaching pace coming up the stairs, “Fire ladder.”
In the end of the hallway was a window, so dirty that you could barely see through it, but Frank vaguely remembered seeing fire ladder resting against the east wall of the house one time he had walked past it. Frank estimated that maybe, just maybe the ladder was close enough to the window for it to make a proper way for escape.
Without hesitation, he smashed his skateboard against the window and Gerard instinctively covered his face from the flying fragments of glass. He was still a bit taken by the surprise, but he had come into his senses enough to understand Frank’s plan. As much as he hated the thought of climbing down the ladder and possibly cracking all of the bones in his body in the process, he hated the thought of being caught and having to explain it to his mom more, so he silently agreed to stick to Frank’s idea.
When the glass was completely broken, Frank immediately threw the skateboard out of the hole he had made, realizing that he would need both of his hands for climbing.
“Go!” He ordered in harsh voice and pushed Gerard towards the window, looking over his shoulder at the stairs. He didn’t want to fight, and he also despised the idea of getting caught even more than Gerard did.
Luckily, Gerard moved faster than he probably had in all his life; he grabbed the window frame ignoring the cuts he got on his hands, sliding his lower body out of the window almost agilely and balancing his feet on the ladder not long after, sighing from relief when it seemed that it could probably handle his weight. He just had to hope, and he started climbing down as quickly as he could, looking up to make sure that Frank was following.
He was; as soon as all of Gerard had disappeared out of the window Frank had nearly dived out of it himself, dangerously swinging himself on the ladder and getting a fast glance at the cop who had reached the top of the stairs.
Frank really hoped that the man would take a moment to fathom where the kids had gone, and just as Frank has suspected, the cop’s face appeared on the window just when Gerard had reached the final ladder and dropped down the 4-feet distance to the ground. Gerard was wheezing and panting, his heart was racing and his brain was screaming red alert but otherwise he felt pretty amazing, and he couldn’t help but grin devilishly as Frank jumped down next to him and picked his skateboard from the ground.
Frank gave Gerard an appreciative look, his eyes full of wild sparkles; “run.”
And they did.