You're My Nicotine

Frank slammed on the breaks and parked quickly outside Walker's house, racing out of the car. He instantly found October, lying in the flower bed outside the house where she had told him she was. She had explained everything that had happened, on the drive over, the best she could in her slurred state. When she mentioned there was a gun involved, he had to swirve to miss another car and stop himself crashing.

She was in serious danger.

"October, oh God..."

Frank immediately pulled the younger girl up right and she flung her arms around him. She had never been more relieved to see anyone in her life.

"I was so s-scared," she stammered into his shoulder, clinging onto him so tightly she was afraid to let go, trembling viciously.

"It's alright, sweetie," he said into her hair, knelt in front of her, "I'm here now, it's okay." He breathed out a sigh of relief that she hadn't taken so much Heroin to overdose.

"He wasn't moving!" she suddenly panicked, "I-I couldn't even see if he was breathing! What... what if I've killed him?!"

"Hey, hey, hey, come on," Frank told her softly, moving out of their embrace to look at her, "I'm sure everything's fine, the police are on their way, everything will be fine."

"The police?" she cried, "If they find out I killed him, they'll take me away! I can't do this, Frank, I-I-I can't." The tears were falling now, quite rapidly.

"Woah, woah, calm down, you probably haven't killed him," Frank tried to reasure her, "You probably just knocked him out a little, he's probably even walking around right now..."

"What? He has the gun!"

Frank's eyes widened as they looked up at the house. "Oh shit," he breathed, "Okay, um, wait here for the police to come, I'll be back in a sec."

He started to get up and October grabbed onto his hand, "No-no, don't go in there, Frank, please."

"I need to make sure he's not going to do any permanent damage," Frank replied, looking down at October. He tried to pull his hand away and October tried to stop him.

"No, Frank, don't!"

"Just wait for the police," he told her and pulled his hand free.

"Frank!" she called after him as he started towards the gate. Knowing he wasn't going to listen to her, October used the fence to heave herself up, and she almost fell through the gate going after him. She forced her body to catch up, her head spinning, and when she did, Frank stopped just before the front door and spun round to her.

"October, what are you doing?" he raised his voice, "This is dangerous, go back where you're safe!"

"No," she told him solidly, "I left Aidan to go alone and get himself killed and I am not gonna let the same thing happen to you."

Realising now that she wasn't going to leave, Frank sighed, "Fuck, just stay here 'til I know it's safe."

He left her at the front door as Frank carefully began his way inside the house. Taking a few steps until he was at the living room doorway, music blasting from the speakers, he peered in and the breath caught in the back of his throat. His heart picked up its pace.

"What is it?" October asked, oblivious to what Frank could see, or who he couldn't.

"Walker?" Frank called into the room cautiously, thinking it would have sounded better to call him by the nick name everyone seemed to use. He didn't even know what to look out for, he had never even seen this guy.

"He's not there?" October panicked and ran over to where Frank stood. She peered over his shoulder and gasped.

There on the other side of the room, in the spot she had last seen him, was nothing but smashed glass and a small pool of blood. There were red drops, only a dozen inches away from each other, and they led to the back wall, into the kitchen.

"Oh my God," October shook.

"It's okay, it's okay," Frank said, wondering if he was just reasuring himself, "Just stay calm..."

"Calm?" hissed October, "We don't know where the fuck he is!"

She had a point, but right now was not the time to freak out. Frank walked over to the stereo and shut it off.

"Walker?" he called in the direction of the kitchen, getting back nothing, "I'm not gonna hurt you, we just wanna make sure you're okay..."

It was half the truth. Frank probably was going to hurt him for threatening an innocent girl, but he also had to make sure Walker wasn't actually going to use his weapon.

Frank slowly started towards the kitchen, October following, gripping onto his arm from behind and looking over his shoulder.

"Please, Frank, just leave it," she begged, "The police are coming, let's just wait for them."

"Look, just stay right here," he replied as he stopped and pointed down to the spot they were stood on, half way across the room.

October gave in and did as she was told, watching intently as Frank made the rest of the way to the kitchen. His heart was thumping against his chest once at the door frame of the next room. His eyes fell to the floor and saw that the blood trail went off to the right, where he couldn't see from where he was standing. Frank slowly leaned forward, his head through the door way, and turned it to the right.

Before he had a chance to see Walker, the eighteen year old had already attacked.

"FRANK!" October screamed after watching his body fly backwards to the floor with a thud. The next thing she knew, Walker was pointing the gun straight down at Frank's face.

"Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

Frank looked up at the boy with brown hair, towering over him, pain surging through his left cheek from where this boy's fist had connected with it.

"I-I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Frank stuttered slightly, raising one hand, "You can trust me."

"How can I trust you, you called the cops on me!" Scott shouted, the gun still in Frank's face. He soon recognised him from being a guitarist in My Chemical Romance, which he was relieved about. He wouldn't have to threaten somebody who played decent music.

"Walker, stop it!" October spoke up as she started towards the kitchen.

"If I were you, I'd stay right there," he warned as October became his next target, stopping her from taking another step, "You fucked up my head and I am not a happy bunny."

October went from looking at the tip of the gun pointed in her direction to the deep gash on the side of his head, blood running down his face. He moved his aim back to Frank, causing small beads of sweat to form on his forehead as the .45 looked him straight in the face again. Keeping the gun in place, Scott turned his head to October.

"This the 'friend' you were talking about?" he asked, "The one that upset you?"

"Don't hurt him, Walker, please," October begged.

"But I thought I'd kill him for you, set things straight," Scott replied, looking back to the older man harshly.

"No!" she quickly yelled, "We're fine now, Frank and I are fine so put the gun down."

Frank began getting himself up off the floor slowly, but Scott put his foot on Frank's chest, pushing him back down again.

"Stay there!" Scott yelled to Frank, moving the gun closer to his face.

Frank stared straight up at him, praying the police would hurry and get there any second. "You heard her," he said, "You can put the gun down."

Scott looked from Frank to October. It put a smile on his face to see the fear in her eyes, the tears just waiting to pour.

"I dunno," he said, "I kinda like that I've got you both in my hands, deciding who lives and who dies."

"You're-you're sick," October breathed.

"I'm sick?" he snickered, "I'm not the one popping pills, depending on them to make everything better in my sad little life... You're a fucking coward."

October gulped silently and Scott continued.

"You know what would make everything better?" he said to her, "If you weren't here... If you weren't here to fuck other people's lives up aswell as your own. I mean, it would make your friend's lives happier, not having to worry about you, and your parents... well, they would be happier without a messed up daughter..."

"You shut the fuck up, you little asshole."

Scott's head whipped back to Frank, infuriated. "No, you shut the fuck up, you're not the one with the gun. Unless you want this trigger to be pulled, I suggest you keep your fucking mouth closed."

"Just do what he says, Frank," October whimpered.

"Yes, Frank, just do what I say," mocked Scott.

"When this is all over, I'll beat the shit out of you for throwing this bullshit at her," Frank fired at him.

"Oh, playing hero, are we? Let's see how much of a hero you are when I do this..."

October felt his arm grab her around her throat, and his hand jutted the hard metal in the small of her back.

"Don’t fucking move," Scott's voice sneered in her ear. October's eyes grew wide in fear.

"Don't," she breathed, unable to say more.

Frank took this chance to stand instantly, making his way towards her.

"I wouldn’t do that," Scott warned, pulling the gun up to the side of the younger girl’s head. "If you're going to play hero, I suggest you don't get her killed.”

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" Frank demanded, stepping forward. Scott pressed the gun harder against her head, making October whimper and Frank stop dead in his tracks.

"Most fun I've had in ages," Scott answered with a shrug, "You know you're not going to win, so I suggest you turn around and walk away and leave October with me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Frank growled lowly.

Scott, running short on patience, pointed the gun at Frank.

"My fight was never about you in the first place, hero," he said, "My fight is with this little bitch right here." Scott ran the gun along her face, October limply hanging in his grasp. She knew better not to fight back, and her trembling state was returning.

"And what the hell did she ever do to you, you son of a bitch?" Frank questioned. "You were the one who put her in this mess and laid drugs on her."

"Are you pulling towards a bullet in your brain?" Scott spat, "Because if you really want one that bad, I’d be more than happy to oblige."

"Just go," October whimpered, causing both Scott and Frank to look at her. She had tears running down her face, which was both shocked and panic stricken.

"No," Frank said firmly, "I told you I'm gonna get you through this shit, and I’ll be damned if I don't stick to my word."

"I’d listen to the little bitch," Scott suggested, "You don't know what kind of devil you're both dealing with, what kind of devil you're fucking with. You have no clue.”

"You have no clue what kind of devil I am, either," Frank said, right before he lunged. October saw this coming and dropped to the ground, praying that Frank wasn’t doing something stupid.

Both of the men fell to the ground, Frank pounding anywhere that he could connect his fist with. Scott was trying to do the same, but Frank was on top of him. The gun lay abandoned on the ground within arms reach, and Scott took an opportunity to reach over and retrieve it with his right hand as he punched Frank with his left, so hard Frank dropped to the floor next to him. Scott immediately stood up on his knees, pointing the gun at Frank, his finger ready to pull the trigger.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

Scott's eyes flew up to the two policemen standing feet away, their own guns pointing at him.

"Drop it and put your hands up!" the older of the two ordered.

"Shit," Scott breathed to himself, wondering what to do. The cops continued to shout at him and he was growing more and more nervous as October was stood there, giving him looks with wide green eyes that said, 'Why would you do this?'

It took Scott some time to remember that the Class A drug was why he did this.

"Come on, son," the cop called in a loud voice, even though they were feet away, "Just throw it down on the floor, nobody needs to get hurt."

Those were the key words that flickered more thought into Scott’s head. Now everyone would know that he was a menace, and now he’d have to be expelled and put away. Trouble, Scott was in big, big trouble. His eyes, now cold and dead, focused on the empty syringes on the coffee table.

"Are you listening?" the older policeman said, "Come on, it’s okay now..."

Scott couldn’t help but laugh hysterically when he heard the word ‘okay’. It seemed to have an opposite effect on him. With guns and blood surrounding him, how could everything be okay? Scott suddenly realised what he was about to do. He was about to take the life of an innocent man on the floor in front of him. He was a monster. And this cop was telling him that it was all okay?

Scott raised the gun to point it at his own temple, and then went into a full-panic mode when the policemen both lunged at him. His finger seemed to just slip on the trigger. Maybe they slipped on the sweat of his palms, or the blood decorating his fingertips.

But now there was one dead body in the room, just like he was planning.

October let out an ear-piercing scream and the youngest of the policemen gently pulled her out of the room with him, making sure the now scarred teenager didn't see anymore of the bloody sight. The other policeman stood, looking down and shaking his head sadly that he could not save this life.

"Are you okay?" he asked Frank, holstering his gun at his hip and helping the pale man up.

Frank meerly nodded, although he felt the vomit come up his throat at the splattered brains on the wall behind him, but forced it back down. He couldn't stay in there.

Making his way out of the house, Frank realised that Walker was sick. Sick in the head. He seemed to be a messed up kid who took the easy way out of his future life behind bars, by ending it. Maybe that would have been best for him. Now he wouldn't have had to spend however many years in prison and then carry on with his drug addiction when he was released back into the world. Now he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life, knowing and regretting what he did.

These thoughts were shot completely out of the water when someone pounced on Frank, arms clinged around his neck and legs around his middle with a ferocity that nearly knocked the wind out of him. The chocolate brown hair was soft against his face and he could feel the way that she was shaking as she held onto him. He put his arms around her gently, pulling her as close as he could get her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice coming out soft.

October let out a massive sob before looking at him, eyes red and puffy. "Are you?" she blurted, that kind of hysterical and demanding sarcasm showing itself.

Frank nodded, letting her drop back to the ground, and directing his attention to the officer, who came out of the house behind him with his walkie talkie in his hand, informing dispatch that the so-called suspect had been found.

As the sun began to set, October stood with her back against Frank's car, gripping onto his hoody wrapped around her, and watching on as Walker's parents sobbed as the corpse of their only child was wheeled in a black body bag and put into an ambulance. She heard a sigh from Frank beside her and moved her gaze to look at him. His now shorter hair was sitting scruffily on top of his head and his glossy eyes looked exhausted. His busted lip had been cleaned up by the paramedics, but there was a bruise forming on his left cheek, and the knuckles on his right hand were split, just like they were on October's right hand, and the only bruise she owned was the one on the inside of her left arm, caused by a needle.

She was ashamed at how stupid she had been the past few days. None of it had made anything better, everything just blew up out of proportion. There was only one person who got her through it, one person who stuck by her, one person who risked their life to save her own. That person was leaning against his car beside her and handed her the last few drags of his much needed cigarette.

"Thank you," October whispered.

"Welcome," he replied.

"No, thank you," she said again, causing him to look at her, "I would probably be the one in that body bag if it wasn't for you, and I can't tell you how fucking scary that is, I mean, you've opened up my eyes a hell of a lot more and in future I'm going to appreciate every little thing in life... Thank you for being here and not judging me like every other fucker, just... thanks."

The ends of Frank's lips curved upwards as he watched October finally take a drag from the cigarette. "Welcome," he repeated his earlier answer.

The older policeman came over to the two of them, putting on his uniform hat and clearing his throat. "We've got both your statements and we can take everything from here, so you can go on home when you're ready," he told them.

"Thanks, officer," Frank replied, and he gave them both a small smile before walking back over to the scene, where police cars were flashing their illuminous sirens. Frank turned to October, "Ready to go?"

She nodded and threw away the butt, exhaling the smoke.

Billie Joe sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the bills on the wooden surface, sighing as he flicked through them. He hated this time of the month, paying for everything he needed to live. He noticed how ridiculous that sounded and leaned back in the chair, deciding he would sort it out later. A knock at the door also saved him from dealing with it now.

As he stood and wandered down to the front door, he scratched the back of his head and took a nice deep breath to refreshen his lungs. Billie opened the door and his eyes grew wide at the state of his daughter, aswell as Frank stood next to her. When Frank had brought October home drunk, Billie was a little annoyed, but let it fly over his head, remembering that he was also seventeen once.

But this time, it didn't look like alcohol.

"What the hell happened to you two?"