Teeth

I walked home briskly, a nervous jitter in my step as I cast looks over my shoulder. It was noon, but the shadows seemed to slip after me over the concrete walks and lawns. My house was barely four blocks away from 'The House', but I took a few unnecessary loops around it and ducked into several shops on the way.

"How about you?"

"How about me, what?"

"Are you worth spying on?"

I shivered and jammed my fingers into the tight pockets of my jeans, the callouses on my fingertips snagging on the fabric. My breath drifted in front of me like cigarette smoke, then curled away in the wind. It was too cold to stay out any longer.

I approached my own house cautiously, swiveling my head in circles and biting my lip. I jumped as my neighbors slammed their front door, and giggled nervously.

"Nobody's here, Frank. Fucking calm down," I muttered under my breath, taking out the house key and letting myself in. The instant I stepped over the threshold and shut the door I wrinkled my nose. What is that SMELL?

"Mom?" I called, walking down the hallway. I paused and dumped the keys and my jacket on the coffee table. "Mom? Were you cooking?"

The smell was getting stronger as I headed to her room. It was the musk of earth, and maybe something rotting. Like something dead.

I quickened my pace. "Mom!?"

"In my room," she called out, her voice muffled by the closed door.

I twisted the knob and stepped in, then balked. "GOD, WHAT IS THAT SMELL?" I winced, my face distorting and I covered my nose.

My mom widened her eyes in confusion from her place on the bed, a book cupped in her pale hands. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"It smells like something died," I groaned, looking around the room in disgust.

"Frank," my mom frowned, "don't be rude."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Can't you SMELL that?"

"No." She sounded baffled. "Are you sure--Oh."

"What?" I was slowly starting to get used to the smell and I lowered my hand from my nose.

"Do you have allergies?"

"What?!"

She folded the page in her book back and set it aside gingerly. "Well... I wanted to surprise you... but we have a new family member," she said with a smile, getting up off the bed and crossing the room to her closet.

"YOUR PREGNANT?!" I half-screamed, thoughts like you're too old, with who, and WHY, flying through my head.

"FRANK," she scolded, embarrassed. "God no, what would having allergies have do to with a baby?"

I blinked. "I forgot that. What's the surprise?"

"Well, ever since your dad left, the house has been so empty and lonely. So..." She reached into the closet and pulled out a pet carrier "...I went to the animal adoption agency today and got Buster!"

If this had been a cartoon, green waves of odor would have been emitting from the carrier. I covered my nose again. "Is it dead?" I asked, my eyes almost watering.

"What? No! God Frank, just give the poor thing a chance won't you?" Then, to my dismay, she unhooked the metal front to let it out.

"Wait, Mom--" I started, but it was too late.

A blur of brown matted hair shot out of the carrier like a bat out of hell, and "Buster" leapt jerkily into the air and slammed into the window to my mom's room. It landed with a thump on the carpeted floor like a pound of meat and snarled angrily.

"Buster! Bad kitty!" My mom yelled, rushing over to the writhing creature.

"Mom DON'T!"

She pushed the enraged animal back in the cage and fastened the metal cover where it was subdued to a few gargled meows.

"He needs to just warm up to us, that's all," mom commented, placing the carrier on the floor. A mangy paw reached through the bars and swiped at her pant leg, claws outstretched like small fish hooks.

"Are you shitting me?! We're taking that thing back," I exclaimed, my eyes wide with horror.

"Stop cussing Frank Anthony Iero. And we're keeping him. Go to your room and get ready for dinner," she snapped, pointing a finger to the door.

"But--"

"NOW."

I stalked out the door, the smell from the cat drifting after me making me want to vomit.

I found myself running up the stairs, instinctively trying to escape from the horrible stench downstairs. The door to my room was shut tight, and I hoped wildly that the smell hadn't infiltrated there. I thrust the door open and slammed it shut, breathing in the stale yet odorless air inside in deep gulps.

My mom brought home a dead cat.

I laughed shakily at this. What is my life? Some Stephen King novel?

IS THIS THE FUCKING PET SEMETARY?!

I collapsed face down on my bed, clenching my eyes shut and grabbing fistfuls of blanket in my hands. How come my mom couldn't smell that damn cat? The stench was horrible. Maybe she's gone insane?

"Really, I have no reason to spy on you."

"You don't."

"No."

"What about you?"

"What about me, what?"

"Are you worth spying on?"

"N-no, my life is boring."

"We'll see."

Laughing humorlessly into the blankets, I sent a small message to Gerard in my head; Guess what? My life isn't boring anymore.

I pulled myself off the bed and searched for a CD, any CD to break the silence. Iron Maiden was right at the top of the stack, and I quickly shoved it into my player and twisted the volume knob violently to the right. There was that moment of silence as the song loaded, then the guitars started loudly, making the speakers rattle and buzz.

I fell back into my bed contentedly, closing my eyes and trying to ignore the noxious odor creeping through the air vents.

-----timeee lapseee-----

I woke up coughing, my legs tangled in my blankets and my fist clenching a sweaty clump of sheets. That SMELL. I shot up in bed, the remnants of blankets covering me gathering around my waist. A noise like a gurgled scream warbled in my throat as I spotted a pair of sickly yellow eyes staring at me through the darkness.

"You!" I choked out, swinging my arm wildly for the bedside table light. My fingers finally grasped the thin chain and pulled, flooding the dark room with fluorescent light.

'Buster' hissed angrily, arching its back in the classic 'Halloween Cat' pose. Needle-like teeth gleamed in the light, and its yellow eyes flashed.

"G-get the fuck out," I stammered, reaching over and clutching my pillow like it was a life line. I raised the soft pillow over my head, and the cat flattened its ears and yowled throatily.

Its tone said, "Don't fuck with me, I'll open a can of whoop-ass on you and your precious pillow."

My eyes said: "Yeah I fucking know that."

I chucked the pillow at the undead cat, hitting it with flumping sound, and shot towards the door. (Thump+fluffy=flumping, fyi).

It snarled, lunging after me right as I slammed the door. The sound of the cat hitting the wood made me shudder... it sounded like a body being smacked against a coffin. It scratched at the door viciously from the other side, then snaked a matted paw under the door and swiped at my bare foot.

I gritted my teeth in order to resist stomping on it.

The odor was even worse, probably because of the cats anger, and I resisted the urge to retch as I pounded down the hallway towards the front door.

I unlocked the three bolts on the front door with shaky fingers, then kicked it open and leapt outside to gulp in the fresh air. My feet seemed to freeze on contact with the cold cement front steps, and my breath fogged out of my throat like a ghost being exorcised.

I slumped down to a sitting position on the top step, hugging my knees to my chest and allowing the chill to settle into my bones.

Going inside seemed impossible right now. To breath that stench and chase that thing out of my room sounded about as attractive as volunteering to have both of my eyes gouged out.

Someone was walking around the corner far down the street, and I shivered. I definitely didn't feel like getting murdered tonight. I eyed the door to the house silently, wondering if I should take refuge inside until the stranger passed.

I am a man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park....

Fuck it. I am not going inside to that dead cat. And fuck you Iron Maiden, for having lyrics so creepily fitting.

When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when its dark...

Whoever was walking was getting closer, their figure silhouetted by a dim yellow streetlight. I rubbed my bare feet with my hands, trying to warm the frozen flesh there. What kind of ass hat doesn't grab shoes before walking outside into the cold? I mentally scolded myself while watching the figure come closer, their stride graceful across the cement.

Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that someones always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someones always there...

Wait... That figure looked eerily familiar. Yes, that walk... HOLY FUCK. I could actually feel my body jerk in surprise. Is that--Gerard? GERARD?! What is he doing out here? It has to be past 3am!

Maybe he has dead cat problems too.

I laughed inwardly, my inner Frank basically in hysterics. Inner Frank was fucking terrified. Inner Frank wanted the fuck out of his stupid, stupid, stupid, cold, cat-fearing body.

"Well, I'll be," his icy voice said, somehow carrying all the way across the street. "If it isn't Frank Iero."

The muscles in my throat seized, and my breathing began to rattle through my chapped lips. A very powerful instinct was screaming to run into the house, lock the door, and for crissakes don't let him in.

Something was alarming in the way he walked in the cover of darkness, how he slipped across the street without looking for cars, the silky smoothness of his voice... like a predator.

"Gerard," I acknowledged, tightening my hold around my knees as I sat on the cold ground, looking up at him.

He smirked, crouching down so his knee rested on the last step of stairs so he was now looking up at me. "Now why would you be out at this hour?" He asked, his eyes super bright in the darkness. "It's not safe you know."

"It's a long disturbing story." Was all I said, my neck aching to turn and look at the front door, my escape. "I could ask the same about you."

Gerard's lips stretched into a broader smirk. "I had to... pick up some food." His too bright eyes sparked with amusement.

My stomach twisted. "At this hour?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" He picked at his black fingernails casually, apparently immune to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"So where is it?" I asked, expecting him to have a fast food bag or groceries or something.

His eyes flashed with another glint of animal humor. "I ate it."

My throat clicked dryly as I swallowed. "Oh. I guess that makes sense."

Have you run your fingers down the wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you re searching for the light?
Sometimes when you re scared to take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that somethings watching you...

"I guess I should be going in," I announced, standing up and groaning when all my frozen joints creaked.

Gerard was also standing up, but I don't remember him doing it.

I walked the three steps to the door and turned the knob, looking back at Gerard. "Night," I muttered, already wincing as the smell hit me.

"Goodnight, Frank," he replied in his cool voice, and stayed there until I shut the door and locked it with all three bolts.