The Forest- Frerard Chapter Two~

!!!Notes on bottom of story and in description!!!!



A short boy stared out the window of the tower, his red eyes staring at the white clouds pass by and enter the forest. His hair was shaved on both sides, aside from a faux hawk lining the middle. The fringe hung in his face, not bothering him one bit. The boy sighed and rested his chin on his arms. He longed to feel air, to feel outside. He even wonder if the surrounding towns knew of his presence. Knew that their Prince was locked away, never to see the outside, only to see it from windows. Windows bored him. Looking out of them for nine years became a habit, then that habit turned into a daily need, next thing you know, it's life. Yes, life. Life he did not want anymore. He tried so many times to end it, only to have the cuts healed when waking up.
Sighing again, the boy thought out loud, "You're never going outside, Frank. Never." He mentally slapped himself and down casted his eyes away from the window to his room. The very room he was born. Same him his mother died. Frank did not care. This room got him far away from his drunk of a father who he watched all the alcohol slowly murder him inside out. Oh how Frank wished him death. Though, Frank knew that without the King, no one would have anyone to follow. Did not bother him.
Standing up, the Prince closes his curtains and walked towards the door, opening the large maple wood to relieve a winding staircase leading to the main castle. Shutting the door he walked the ten minute stairs, taking in the sounds of wind howling through the tower, dripping sound of water coming the roof, birds nested in rafters. They knew their Prince, he even had a nest in his room for them, and abandoned rooms settled in the old castle making their squeaking noises. After his mother had died up in the room, Anthony had abandoned it, locking it'a doors for eternity. That did not stop Frank though. Once he reached the age of eleven, he demanded the tower, and Anthony was drunk enough to agree. As Frank turned into a teen, his father realized he had that room. Frank watched that night of Halloween as his father drank himself away.
Brushing off those thoughts, his hands gripped the door and pulled it opened to reveal a dimly lit hallway. Curtains had been closed for nine years, Frank could see layer upon layer of dust. Last time he checked the window has moss and mold growing. He gotten ill from breathing in the toxins. Truthfully he could not stand the sight, for it made him want his father's death more.
"I swear to god that man.." He growled at the thought of him, he wanted to feel his blood on the fangs, his father's breathing slowing as his heart stops. Eyes lifeless and body limp. Evil glimmered in black-red eyes. Smirk laid on Frank's lips as he walked down the musty hall. Mold grew in upper corners, servants tried their best to clean; although it grew back due to water moisture coming from the tower. No servants came to this wing unless Frank slept in past two. Today Frank woke up early. Early from hunger raving in the pits of his stomach. It was odd for him to wake early. Frank knew why though. He had not had blood in around two months. Without blood, he could not focus or be normal. He would turn violent, throw and break objects, kill anyone who got in his way. He couldn't though. It was unlike him. Humming was not.
Frank would hum whatever song came to his head, songs he created or songs he heard being played from towns. The Black Forest was so silent that you could hear the towns festivals happening. Music was a mystery to Frank. Where does it come from? What do you make it with? Is an art form or an imaginary creation Frank made up in his own mind from his nine years of inside life? What he knew was that he loved music. Loved it as if music could stand next to him, wrap her arms around him and tell him, "It'll be okay." If only that were so. Frank huffed out air as he continued to hum, a smile on his face and a hop in his step. Music gave him comfort much as Annabella did. If she still gave him comfort. Frank longed for her touch, hugging and soothing his cries of depression. Once she came to be thirty-five, his father made her a servant for only the main castle. Not Frank. Frank seemed to be able to take of himself, that's how he believed his father took it. Turning the corner, the fifteen year old Prince walked towards the dinning hall. Already planning his breakfast. Fruit and whatever for today did not consist of meat. What was Frank saying? Fuck, every single food item in the surrounding towns sold meat! It sent shivers down his spine. After the horrid incident at age six, Frank swore he would never eat meat again. Humming the song he enjoyed all so well, the Prince opened the great door and entered. Taking in every scent the room offered. He walked over to his favorite seat at the large, maple, hand carved table. Fourteen chairs on both sides with two stationed at each end. Frank's seat, was right dead in the middle. Even length from his father. His chair had engraved, 'Prince Frank Iero' on both sides of the top. Personally engraved by his hands.
Frank eyed the room, searching for something to gain his attention. Which was his mother's painting. Her beautiful face became more beautiful in the oil paint. The crown she wore had the most prefect mixture of paint for it's golden shine and the black jewels that stood out. The dress she wore in the painting, had been a beautiful red wine color. It's color painted prefect against the white background. Oh for all the God's in the world how Frank wished to meet her. How he wished that the Queen, his mother, could be alive. He wanted her hugs, kisses, words, anything she could give. And yet he barely knew nothing.
Anything Annabella had gave him, did not give enough detail.
Laying his head on the table, Frank heard a coughing sound, indicating his father was arriving for breakfast. He did not bother to look. Why should the Prince, have to look into his drunken fathers eyes. The King's eyes.
King Anthony gave his son a pat on his shoulder along with a, "Good morning Frank." Slowly dragged his hand off the boy's back and sat down at the left chair on the end. Seven chairs away from Frank.
"Good morning.." Frank paused, tracing his finger around the hand craved designs, "father."
Silence hung in the air. Nothing broke it. Nothing until the sound of servants came through blended doors on the wall with the food. Each tray they held was filled with bacon, sausage, ham, eggs, biscuits, and of course fresh fruit. Frank did not lift up his head even when his stomach growled for food. He wanted for Annabella to sit next to him as she always did. That's the only way he'll eat. He could feel drool emitting from his opened mouth, not giving one single damn if it stained the table. Hell it was polished every once a hour.
"Frankie. Sit up, Helen and I brought you breakfast from town. A dish I knew you wanted to try." Annabella spoke as her and Helen took their seats next to him.
Frank shot his head up smiling at the two, cleaning the drool off with his sleeve. He stared at the dish in front of him, smiling large than he ever had in nine years. Turning his head in between the two females, he hugged them with one arm. Kissing their checks in his way of saying thank you.
"Oh thank you both. How far did you go this?" Frank questioned, his fork breaking the breakfast cake's soft pie cover.
"We went to the southwest town of
Pforzheim. They have very wonderful food." Helen told him, then leaned in, whispering for his ear only, "they are having a small festival tonight, everyone will be there. You need blood, my Prince."
Blood stuck in Frank's head as he nodded, eyes closing chewing his fruit pie. The juice of the barriers had been the closest feeling to blood in his mouth. The way it smeared around his teeth, coated them in it's succulent sweetness. Rolling in between the middles teeth and off his tongue. It was bliss to Frank.
"This pie is really good. Thank you both." Eyeballing his father, whom was already stuffing his face with food and morning wine, Frank whispered back, "Come to the tower, knock on my door like always. I'll give one back. Go outside, saying you need to check if any animals are coming near. Watch me leave, then return to bed. I shall knock on your window when I return." A sly smile appeared on Helen's dark lips, her green eyes held her genuine evil glint.
"Deal." With that, the two went back to their food. Noise and clatter of forks scrapping on plats filled the dining hall, Frank sat chewing his food staring at his father. Wondering why he blamed him? Why he wouldn't let him know anything of his mother? Why, why, why? Ugh. Frank was so disgusted in his father that he did not know he has been chewing lip, thinking it was food.
Taking his lip away from his teeth, the fifteen year old Prince casted his red eyes down at his food. Letting the sounds of scraping forks, glasses and chattering fill his ears. Along with the coughing fits of King Anthony. Frank felt Annabella's hand around his, and eyes on him. Giving him comfort every so often during breakfast. She did this everyday he was there.
Soon enough, when the grandfather clock struck ten, servants had cleared their plats and the trays from the table. Annabella and Helen staying afterwards while Frank helped them wipe off all the leftover crumbs. Anthony sat at the table, watching them. The three prayed no mind, expect Frank. It felt awkward and unlike his father to watch them. Frank could think that after both females left they would have a talk. A talk? More of a few exchanges words.
"Helen, Annabella, you are free leave. I am sure my son will be able to finish cleaning." Anthony's voice broke through the heavy filled silence room. He watched as Frank gave them a nod to leave and walked closer to him. For the first time in the nine years, three months after they last had a conversation, father and son stared into each other orbs. Hazel stared into red iris and surrounding black; where identical hazel and white should've been. Last time Anthony saw those identical eyes- 31st, October, 1870. Last and first time.
Hearing the door shut, the King mentioned his son to sit next to him. Which he complied. Again they stared at each other. Taking in each others features. Nine years did a lot, but on the King, they did more. Alcohol, grief, depression, illness, and more alcohol aged his body more. The once, handsome thirty one year King, was now an forty-six King who looked around sixty. Frank, may have been fifteen, but looked way to mature for his age. He had the years of an twenty year old, aged with beauty and face features maidens far and wide would marry him for. If it was possible, Frank would be King. If. If his father died. Dropped dead right here from alcohol poisoning.
A smirk appeared on Frank's lips, only to be broken by his father speaking. "Frank, I know we haven't talk in nine years or sense last three months we saw each other..yet I-"
"Either want to apology or say a good father-son talk is necessary? We could do both here, father. I have all time of day. You should too. " Frank said, evil gleamed in his eyes. His voice laced with venom.
In Anthony's eyes, Frank saw him being taken back. Unexpecting the words Frank spoke to him. He watched Frank sit there. Not a muscle moving, a lip twitching from it's smirk, not an unordered blink of an eye.
Anger flared in Anthony. Hazel orbs had fire in them, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. Frank did not move. Not one inch. Heavy breathing filled the room with fuming rage.
"How dare you-"
"How dare I, father? My whole life has been a constant game!" Frank screamed. Chair skidding across the floor. "You've known nothing about me. Annabella has taken care of me, so had Marcus! Helen is a sister to me. You've done nothing, father. Or should I say King? King Anthony Iero. The supposedly great King of the Black Forest." Once again, venom laced through out Frank's words. His face calm, a slight smirk. Head tilted to it's side. All the time, Frank changed his voice. Never his facial expression. How could Frank be so calm? Did he master the art of calmness from watching that drunk of a King he called a father?
Anthony inched closer to Frank, face almost to his, "You disgraceful, dishonored, disrespectful, arrogant little brat! I am the King, your father. You do not talk that way to me. I gave you everything you needed to survive life. You murder your mother, Frank. Your birth murder her. I blamed you for years and shall blame you till death! You are not my son!" A sound of skin against skin filled the air. Silence once again filled the air. No screams, no sobs or tears could be heard. Just the ticking sound of a Grandfather clock.
Frank's head was snapped to the side. A painful, agonizing red mark of a hand marked his right cheek. Face left emotionless. His body did not twitch. Nothing in him twitched. When Frank turned his neck it cracked back into place. Eyes closed tight when the crack snaked through his nerves. Sending small pain singles to the brain and neck. Opening eyelids revealed slightly stocked red orbs. Widen with rage. Frank got up and walked to the door.
Before opening the large door, he turned and spoke, "When you are on your death bed father, I shall not once grieve, cry, nor even scream in agony. On that day I shall be there. You will end by my hand." Frank left, door giving a final loud bang shut. Outside the door, the Prince smirked. "More of my fangs." He walked to his room with a smirk still plastered on his face. Not giving one final damn of his father. He did not care that his father sat there, in that chair, staring at the door. Angry at him. No. Frank kept smirking. Thinking of the bloodbath he would have and all the sweet blood.
~
Through out the day until twilight reached Frank sat, paced, laid, and even walked up a wall to stand upside down on the ceiling. He even sat on the rafters! When did this, he thought of the plan to murder his father after the festival. Frank needed to make sure his father's death looked as an inflected death upon himself. He wanted to make sure no bite marks, similar to Frank's fangs, were left behind. Possibly he could heal them to leave behind no sins on the body. Make cuts with his nails and lay a knife next to the body. In truth, Frank did not care. He planned this 'tragic death' of his father for years. Whenever he came close to doing so, evil thoughts plagued his mind.
Would he be forever thought as a murder by the people? Did they even care or know about him? Maybe this called place named,"Hell" had a spot for him? The worst thought: his mother, Annabella, Helen and Marcus. How would they treat or think of him after this sinful act? Annabella, the only mother figure Frank had for fifteen years, would be ashamed. Disgraced.Forever a monster he would be.
No. No, his father was the monster. The King. What type of a father, King even would lock away their son forever? Did he ever even mention Frank to anyone when he went? Probably never. He never even mentioned him once when Frank became the rightful age of Prince. Frank had a coronation in the castle if he remembered correctly. The first and last time at the age of ten did he finally see other people. He knew that he got paintings every so often for the people to see how their Prince has grew. Often he thought that maybe they thought it was just his body being used. Since Frank was probably dead to them anyways.
Frank laid his back against his blankets. Wrapping them around him, waiting for Helen to knock their secret knock. Frank still had many of these racing thoughts going through his head wrapping himself in a butterfly cocoon. A growling sound and pain raved on Frank's muscles and nerves. His body needed blood. His body couldn't wait much longer either.
Throwing the blankets off him, Frank went over to his desk. Ignore all the ounces of pain ran through him. His stomach and throat muscles contrasted, causing him to make a sound of choking. He reached over, hand grabbing his ink quell or trying to. It almost spilled. Right now, ink spilling shouldn't be added to the list of problems. Frank's right hand rummaged through papers. Finding a nice clean piece to write on. He pulled it out from the pile and started to write his note. The festival did not start until the clock hanging on the wall by the door struck nine. Which is only an half hour away.
"Sohn von einem Weibchen!" Frank hissed out as he signed his name at the bottom. Fangs had grown out, turning an off white color. Pain coursed through the Prince as he struggled to pour red oil on. Skin had a now black and pale spots forming. Vines becoming shriveled as his heart pumped the toxic blood through. Stamping and sealing the oil on his letter, he ran. Grabbing his cloak and putting the letter sticking out the many cracks on his door. The Prince ran down the stairs. Skipping and panting. Blood vessels in eyes dilated, causing his black around his irises to become blue.
Frank had one thing on his mind: blood. Blood, blood, blood. Nothing else mattered. He ran through hallways once out of his tower. Nose sniffed the air, searching and pointing out all the servants. No. How could he murder them for blood? They've watched, helped and nurtured him. Murdering them for blood wasn't right. One scent got his attention.
His father.
He promised he would not murder him until after the bloodbath of a festival tonight. Right now that did not matter. Only blood mattered. Letting his body take control again, the Prince walked to his father room. Other on the eastern side of the castle. Servants tonight were already in bed or finishing cleaning. Only few ventured into that side when called. As for Frank, well only been there twice. Tonight would be the third and possibly last time. Possibly.
With his body still in control with hunger, he kept walking. Fangs to their ultimate sharpness, eyes glazed over, veins completely blue. His father's scent kept sending over a cliff. It may smell of poison Frank did not love in his blood, but with being able to dilute that poison the blood would perfectly healthy. Frank stopped at the door. Hand lightly gripping it's handle. Inside he knew the room was dimly lit. His father would never see him. Only his eyes.
The door opened with squeal, Frank inched in, locking the door behind him. Anthony laid under his blankets. Chest softly riding and falling as he took in air. Frank's senses where now kicking in. He could sense the blood. It flowed through those poisoned filled veins. Pumping out and back into the heart. Filling Frank's nasal passages with it's scent. With body still in control, he stalked over to his father's bed side. Nose sniffing over the resting body. Skin millimeters from skin. Frank stiffened his back and eyes closing.
He circled around the bed. Going over to the side were Anthony's neck was showing. Large blue veins. Blood flowing them! Frank's hands pushed the blanket aside. He wanted his father awake. He wanted to see the light leave his eyes!
"Marcus don't wake me up.." Anthony spoke out loud in his sleep. Frank did not stop while his father began to speak. He pushed the blanket off more. He again circled the bed. Stopping at every moment and staring at the sleeping body. A plan forming his mind. Smirking ever so slightly, Frank crawled onto the large bed. He straddled his father's body. Putting pressure onto the stomach fat.
Anthony moved his head and eyes shot wide open. Before he could even open his tired mouth, Frank put his hand on his mouth. Covering to make sure no scream reached out. No one would hear anyway.
"Ah, my dear father. I wished this upon you for two years. Two years! Hah!" Frank told with a chuckle. Fangs gleaming from the lit candle next to the bed. "I may be sinning, but I need blood father! Blood! Two months without can make me really angry! Want to know how I got it?"
Anthony shook his head, eyes still widen with fear. He could not speak with his son's hand over his mouth.
"I snuck first out on my twelve birthday. I got my very first craving in six years that day. The blood tasted wonderful. Now, I want your blood." Frank growled out as he sunk his fangs into the old man's neck. Sucking out the poisoned blood of his father. He loved feeling the King writhe underneath. Hearing the sound of blood flowing through the veins. Heart pumping with struggle to get all the blood through.
Once Frank was finished, he pulled away and sat on his father as he watched him die. Eyes losing it's glow. Or what had been left over the years. He got off the now dying man's stomach. Pulling the blankets up over his body and stood watching. A large smirk played on the Prince's lips. So many times of putting off this plan and worth those times it was. Checking the pulse, Frank unlocked the door. He made sure the door was left open then mass his way out onto the terrace. Closing the terrace doors, Frank had enough time to make it to the festival and back before morning.
~
"Frank! Wake up! Your father- Oh god he's not waking! Nor breathing! Wake up Frank Iero!" Annabella screamed as her fist pounded on the door. It was unlike her in any situation to use Frank's full name. In this situation, it had been needed. Hearing shuffling of feet against floor and the door unlocking, a more healthier Frank stood in the door way. Skin back to it's faire color. Eyes not diluted from lack of blood.
"What do you mean, not waking up? He drank for what- all my life?" Frank replied yawning.
"Yes! But that's not the point, he is not breathing! Do I have to spell it out, Frank?" Annabella questioned. Hand on hip.
"No. Let's just go to him." Frank said not bothering to put on new clothes. He still had the same clothes on from last night. No blood on them thankfully.
Every servant was in the hallway by the King's room. Annabella dragged Frank through the crowd and into the room. All windows open, letting light reach in and air. Already the smell of must filled the room. Anthony's body was already in a state of decay. Skin blotchy and grey. Neck completely healed. Eye sockets dipping into the skull. Skin being stretched. In Frank's mind, this was a gift from himself. Not God.
"I don't know..I don't know what to say." Frank said putting on a face of grief.
"Frank I know you didn't really love him..but he truly loved-"
"No. He may have. He never did." Frank said cutting Annabella off. He could not say another word at all. The Prince took one final glance over at the body and at Annabella. "If you aspect me to say a word at the funeral, don't. That man we called King and my father desires no such kind words from me. He never gave any, nor should receive them." With that, the Prince closed the door behind him. Leaving behind his painful childhood memories. Only to have in mind his future life.
~

Twenty-five year Frank inhaled the fresh scent of winter air as he walked through the snow covered forest floor. White gave a blanket to protect it's beauty from harmful frost created by this cold. Since the past nine years of being locked away and only five years of freedom, Frank was enjoying every moment. He had changed very little in these years of freedom. His hair grew longer, only past his ears, as where his height got slightly taller. Frank had figured that even if being short meant a turn off for women, fine by him. He did not want any wife, Princess, Queen. He wanted freedom. Freedom he had.
"I've been free for five years, and seeing this wonderful scene is amazing! I never will never not enjoy this." Frank cheerfully told himself while walking the snowy path to the castle. His boots trudged through the snow, his pants above the knees soaked. White matted his dark hair. Frank got off the snowy path onto the brick path leading to the castle. Again filled with snow. The servants did not bother to clear the snow due the Prince's wishes. Frank had known gone out to towns for the castle's supply and his own blood supply. Or well four times the blood.
"Annabella!" Frank called out from entering the warm castle. The large wooden door shut with a bang that filled the entry way's silence. He tugged off his cloak to hang it on a hook by the door. In the distance his hears could reach out to conversation of the remaining thirty servants he had. Over five years after his father's death, Frank paid the servants all the money they could need to start a new life outside. Only thirty remained to watch Frank as he grew.
"Annabella!" Frank called again climbing the grand stair case to the second floor. "I found a beautiful place in the forest today! We could go and have a picnic like old times-Annabella.." Frank's voice trailed off at the sound of sobbing or loud cries. His ears could not make out the noise. He walked up to the door and turned the handle softly. Inside the red velvet colored room, long blond locks stood out on the bed. Her body laid still, sobs filing her chest with heavy breaths.
Frank quietly stepped in the room. Not a single sound escaped him expect the name, "Annabella.."
He sat on the foot of her bed, not wanting to grab her hand to touch her. Ever since two years ago, Annabella acted differently. Frank knew and did not know why she did. Answers and misconceptions filled his head.
"Annabella.."
"Frankie, why did you murder your father those five years ago?" Her golden yellow honey stared deeply into Frank's red one's. Staring to a soul that is darkness.
"I wanted blood and his death. Since age twelve I wanted to see the light leave his soul. I never planned on you finding out." Frank told Annabella softly as she rolled over away from him. His eyes trailing to bite marks on her neck.
"You changed me, why?"
"Annabella you asked me. You wanted to be this. I did not hope for you, the mother of my life, to choose my path." His voice was still very soft to both their ears. Annabella sighed away and turned her puffy red eyes to the Prince. Tear stains lined with the makeup she wore.
"I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast. I'm going hunting tonight."
Frank stared wide eyed at the female, winter nights were not safe to go out into during this type of winter. At night the forest would frost over, ice covering the fluffy snow. Animals would hide in their dens to protect themselves if they were not in hibernation.
"But Annabella..the frost-"
"Won't bother me Frankie. I'll see you tomorrow, go enjoy dinner." Annabella told him with sadness filling her voice.
Frank nodded and left. Worried and dread filled his heart as he glanced one finally last time at her before closing her door and making his way to dinner. Only to have his night and dreams full of nightmares he never had in nineteen years.
Frank awoke on the floor of his room, arms sprawled about him, and blanket tangled around his legs. Dark bags hung under eyes as he rubbed the sleep from them. Only thought in his mind was what Annabella had said last night.
"Annabella.." Frank whispered and ran down the hallway and stairs. Not bothering to listen to the servants, nor putting his cloak on. He raced into the snow screaming Annabella's name out the eerie silence filled forest.
Not a sound could be heard. Not bird, nor deer, nor winter fox made a sound. Just Frank's feet moving through the frosty snow. Crunch noises of frozen branches and leaves could be heard to his ears as he followed what he thought where foot steps leaving him to a certain clearing. Worry and terror became plastered on the Prince's face as he kept walking, his body temperature adjusting itself to the coldness the frost created. A sense in his mind clicked as it did before when he was age six. The smell of dead. A smell Frank did not love to smell out in the forest. It made so many thoughts the Prince did not want through his head. He kept on walking. Pace picking up faster until he was running through the snow. Tripping at ever second his foot went through a large snow drift. The snow may have looked packed in tightly to human eyes, but all over the land, it leveled out completely different.
"Annabella!" Frank shouted as he kept getting closer to where the tracks of feet began to get lesser and lesser. Terror filled his heart, he could know understand why Annabella had come out last night. He understood what she meant when, she told him, "Won't bother me Frankie." He understood completely. And he wished he hadn't.
"Annabella please answer me-" Frank cut himself off as he stared at the cold of red on the white surface. It created a line to a clearing Frank knew all the well. The Best Spot. Frank had no control over his body as he walked towards the line of blood, to see a dead, frozen over, bloody body of Annabella.
Frank's knees gave out, as he laid his head in the soft snow and cried. Cried for why he turned her, cried for her, cried for everything he had did in the past five years of life!
"Annabella..why...why would you leave me? You where my mother! We could have lived for ever and had good lives!" Frank cried into the snow as he could not bear to stare into the lifeless dead eyes of his best friend. His mother. Yes, to Frank she was his mother. The mother he never had. He felt so much anger through him, that he let out a scream he had inside of him for so long. Frank went over and picked up the body. He needed to give her a proper burial. When Frank got back to the castle, every servant stared at Frank and the dead Annabella. They had no words as he marched upstairs to her bedroom to lay her on her bed. To give on the female a final resting place inside the castle. As Frank laid her body again, he broke out into tears. He destroyed his life, his family, himself. The Prince has finally lost every family member he ever had. Prince Frank Iero was completely an utter destroyed shell of himself.
"I am not the Prince..a Prince does not kill their father, their mother, and even their mother figure! No. No. Nononono! I am the Angel Of Death..Engel des Todes." Frank chuckled evilly to himself as he stood up, laying the blanket gracefully over Annabella's body. He did not even look this time at her, he just walked out the door. He got to his room, only to lock the door from the outside world.
~
For the 106, Prince Frank Iero had locked himself away, servants had left after Annabella's funeral had taken place. He wanted isolated, he wanted him to be known to the towns as the Engel des Todes. And that name did truly stick, along with bring interest to a certain person. Michael James Way. Along with his unimpressed older brother, Gerard Arthur Way. The only thing on Gerard's mind was to leave behind his old life in New Jersey, not bring more horrible memories to the new life.
One simply question plagued Frank's mind unlike Gerard's, who could ever love a human like him?


Notes~
I am so so sorry for the late update! I am have been doing lots of homework and I write all my stories on my phone, then copy them to Wattpad then go the library and copy them on to here. I know there is a lot of grammar mistakes, reason being is because, when I enter this into word, all the sentences get really messed up. I really do hope you like this chapter, lots of details(of course) and I slowly introduced Gerard and Mikey as I said. The ending is very much as Beauty and the Beast opening. It gave me the idea for introducing Gee and Mike.

Comment, sub, rate, all that!
~WretchedRomance~
PS: I will start working on the next chapter with Gerard and Mikey tomorrow. I already have around maybe 25 chapters planned out, unless you guys want more.