"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

"When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end."
- Stephanie Meyer, 'Twilight'
———

Existential dread. That was the first emotion that registered in Frank Iero's mind the moment he stepped off the plane and proceeded to exit the bustling airport of Astoria that had become startlingly unfamiliar to his cautious eyes sweeping around in comparison to his home residing in California. The second he stepped into the frigid air engulfed by a gloomy atmosphere hanging ominously above his head, Frank felt the remnants of any hope of Astoria being not as dreary as he remembered drained, puddling around the crown of his head like a personal raincloud unleashing a sheet of ice water upon him with each step he took. The thickly knitted clouds entailed a heavy downpour as a rumble sounded through the gray blanket engulfing every inch of familiar blue he sorely missed already as he tilted his head back for a fragment of a second to observe the weather. The scent of rain and humid earth wasn't as unpleasant as the sight of it. Frank's heavy luggage he dragged along and slung over his shoulders felt equivalent to the weight of his body carrying himself through the crowds as he searched for a familiar face awaiting to guide him to his new home.

The reason behind Frank's departure from his sunny personal paradise was voluntary on his behalf, but only halfheartedly. After his father married a bubbly new woman who seemed kind enough as she accepted Frank as her new family, their newfound spark inspired Frank Sr. to return to life on the road yet again, traveling across the states with a drum set and friends to accompany him. Lorelei would be joining, since they were practically sewn together at the hip after their union, and Frank felt misplaced at the thought of becoming a part of his father's new journey. As much as Frank adored him and as fond as he'd become of his new step mother who spoiled him with mastered recipes all entailing sweets, he decided it would be better to separate himself from the bunch while they traveled to settle in with his mother who became partially estranged through the years. Although his father wouldn't admit it, Frank's presence would be a slight inconvenience while on a journey so romantic with Lorelei.

Linda was there, waiting for Frank as expected, and she was nearly the same as he remembered her, save for sprouting gray hairs at her temple and the deepening of lines crinkling at the edges of her eyes as she smiled. Frank was reminded of where his large eyes and thicker eyelids originated from as he observed her, it was nearly haunting to recognize himself in her face when the remaining image of her blurred in his haze of memories piling atop of one another save for the rare video calls. Reality was different from what he saw in person. Frank cracked a smile of his own, and although he dreaded making a home out of his lesser than gleeful looking surroundings, he couldn't deny the fact that he was pleased to see her after five years of no visitations.

"Frank! It's so good to see you again." Linda wrapped Frank into an embrace lacking the awkwardness his father's hugs held. Hers were warm, and snug, spinning Frank's mind with slight surprise. The energy exuding from her always reminded him of a mellow warmth filling him with images of the simplicity of the afternoon. No sense of unpleasantness surrounded her and he felt some of the edge within him fade as he realized the way she felt hadn't changed.

"Hi Lin— um, mom." Frank breathed a chuckle as his cheeks blazed scarlet. He'd grown used to referring to his mother as Linda at home because his father normally addressed her as so. It was how he recognized her these days.

"I haven't seen you in too long." Linda pulled away to curl her hands around Frank's face, taking in each of his features and searching for differences. Frank's eyes widened and flickered around. Some passing people glanced their way and Frank couldn't help the embarrassment pooling hot in his cheeks. It must've been odd to see a woman coddling her eighteen year old son as if he was still a toddler. Or, in their minds, it was possible he didn't look his age. Linda's genetics were to blame for the lack of height, as well as the softness of his features where he should've stood out as masculine the same as his father. Apart from the sharp curve of his jawline, Frank's other features set him apart from his age on a younger scale. Youth was a flattering look, but Frank didn't appreciate the comparisons to thirteen year olds.

"You've matured so much. I can't say the same for your height." Linda released her grip on his face and grinned at her own comment. Frank was relieved she didn't make note of the rings of metal through his lip and nose, nor the messy tendrils of black hair beginning to grow out.

"I'm stacked about as high as you are."

"Ha! How have you been, Frank?"

"I've been as okay as I can be." Frank said truthfully.

"Good. I've missed you." Linda's eyes softened, warming Frank up a notch after suffering from a foul mood.

"Missed you too, mom." Frank mumbled only slightly awkwardly, but the sentiment was genuine.

Frank shifted, uncomfortable with the amount of bags he lugged around with him.

"Come on, let's get you to the house." Linda realized Frank's growing discomfort and offered a helping hand. Frank rolled his shoulder for the strap to his guitar to glide away easier.

"A guitar." Linda noted, her lips quirking up at one corner as she slung the strap across her shoulder. "You really are your father's son."

Frank pressed his lips together in a smile. He felt the tickle of sprinkling rain splattering onto his skin and glanced up at the sky in disdain. It was almost as if the sky paused the storm it orchestrated and took his arrival to Oregon as a cue to release its thunderous wrath. Frank soured at the perfection of the timing and struggled to keep his face neutral so Linda wouldn't be wounded by his obvious distaste for his new home. All he knew as he rolled across the parking lot as the sprinkle evolved into thicker droplets was that he needed a cigarette the second he was able to escape for time alone. And, evidently, a thicker jacket next time he stepped outside, because the chill creeping through his black cardigan was persistent as it nipped at his skin like frosty little teeth.

The drive to Linda's house was mostly quiet at the start. Frank watched as they traveled down the streets across the lumpy roads, drinking in the difference of colors in the trees creating a thick brush lining the sides of the road. Vibrant orange blended in with the brighter tones of yellow, breaking into the warmer shades of brown as leaves dangled from their branches in preparation to flutter towards the wetted earth below to join their fallen brethren. The greenery webbing together on the boulders was a summery contrast, but Frank knew summer didn't prevail in Astoria. Despite feeling glum about the loss of beloved heat and sunshine, Frank couldn't help but admire the magnificent blend of colors and the beauty of nature, resting his cheek on his curled fist as he leaned his elbow on the armrest.

"How was your trip, Frankie?" Linda asked. Frank used to mind the use of his nickname, but after he associated it with his friends addressing him fondly with it, it grew on him.

"It was fine. The kid behind me kept kicking my seat for half the trip." Frank leaned his head away from his fist when it was a little difficult to speak with his knuckles pressed against his cheek. "But overall, it wasn't the worse plane ride. Wasn't very long either."

"Some kids are little brats. Are you hungry? I can pick something up."

"I could eat."

"Great. Any suggestions?"

"Anything as long as they have vegetarian options." Frank pressed his lips together.

"Oh, you're vegetarian now?" Linda rose her eyebrows and glanced at him quickly so she wouldn't lose all focus on the road.

"Yeah. For three years now." Frank wasn't particularly enticed by the slaughter of animals for steaks now that he was more educated on the cruelty involved. Aside from that, his stomach was never fully in love with meat, protesting at every chance it was given if his dinner involved any sort of beef or chicken.

"That's what all the kids are doing these days, huh?" Linda came to a steady halt at a stop sign. "Going vegetarian and vegan?"

"Well . . . it's not really a trend. It's just not supporting the abuse and slaughter of animals." Frank mumbled, subtly miffed that his choice of dieting was often passed off as a trend.

"Oh, right." Linda flushed the same as Frank tended to do when he was embarrassed.

"It's fine, mom." Frank reassured her so she wouldn't mistake his answer as something far more defensive than it was, it was an instinct to bristle slightly when someone made a comment about his eating choices.

She glanced around the streets, rolling down the road again when no cars were in view. "How's pizza with no meat?"

"Sounds pretty good to me." Frank stomach began to rumble at the thought of food after not having eaten for a few hours. His earlier meal barely counted as a proper serving. He skimmed his hand along his stomach as though to calm it and resumed looking out the window in silence as his mother made her way towards the pizza place she mentioned.

After picking up dinner, Linda pulled into the driveway of a familiar house bringing lingering nostalgia Frank had forgotten about. The lawn was green, yet slightly unkempt and patchy, and the tree in the front was unwavering, changing colors according to the season streaming by. The second story house was intensely familiar despite aging through the time he'd been away, the vividness of the robin egg blue paint on the wooden paneling fading as if the pelting rain washed away the vibrancy. The white trim at the scalloped roof remained surprisingly light and Frank noted the addition of wind chimes to the small porch leading towards the entryway painted black, though he remembered the paneling being a sandy color with squealing hinges whenever the door was pushed open. It was no longer Frank's home, but he could address it as a part of himself he couldn't feel fully unsatisfied returning to.

The rain began falling in alarming sheets when Frank and his mother unloaded his luggage to carry into the house. They moved in a haste, resulting in Frank slipping twice across the slick pavement and Linda capturing him before he could barrel headfirst onto the driveway. Bittersweet arrivals be damned, Frank mood was further soiled by the catastrophe rain made of him. He scurried into the house with the rest of his luggage in tow, droplets capturing into strands of his hair beginning to soak into the tendrils and dampening them. He glanced at the slick wheels of his luggage as he pulled it across the threshold, biting his lower lip as he hesitated to drag it across the recently polished linoleum wood flooring. Frank looked inquisitively at his mother trailing behind him.

"Go ahead, Frankie. That's what mops are for." Linda flashed a disarming smile, wiping the soles of her shoes along the rough doormat before the entrance with some of the luggage slung over her shoulder and a pizza in her other hand.

Frank nodded, his eyes sweeping all over the place that stayed mostly the same as he recalled with some differences. The first thing he noticed was the lesser amount of picture frames nailed to the walls. Most photographs were absent of Frank's father unless there were pictures of himself as a child where he couldn't be avoided in the background. The walls were painted a pale earthy tone the evolved into a softer olive green inside the kitchen. The flatscreen television was still hung above the mantel hovering over the fireplace, littered with tokens from the past and precious memorabilia such as souvenirs from vacations, framed greeting cards from various family members, and old photographs of Frank's grandmother who passed away when he was still at a fairly young age. The drapes were newer, going along with the theme of dark shades accompanied by various splashes of green added in for decor. The leather recliner angled towards the television balanced over a knitted forest green rug and a black coffee table displayed a family heirloom candy dish Frank recalled from his childhood.

The lighting inside was dim due to the grayness outside, a strange and muted white spilling over the aging flooring as resilient storm clouds prevented sunbeams from piercing through them. Frank heard the rumble of thunder outside as rain pelted the windows furiously, the sound of it cascading down onto the roof echoing throughout the entire house. Frank's eyes swept across an old friend, a mahogany bookcase overflowing currently with a collection of books stacked along the shelves void of a single speck of dust. He remembered running his fingers along the spines of his mother's book in search for something new to peel open and his curious mind to absorb. His affinity for reading was handed down in the bloodline on his mother's side, from what he'd learned. Frank was subtly intrigued by the newer books he couldn't remember filling in spaces once vacant before.

"Let's get you up to your room. I cleaned it up just for you." Linda said, guiding Frank towards the stairs that still creaked rather loudly every other tier.

Frank struggled to wheel his luggage over the steps to his minor frustration, but managed to wriggle the wheels free each time to reach the top of the stairs where a hallway began. He entered his bedroom after Linda and smelled the sharp cleanliness of pine needles flowing out once the door was opened. The curtains were pulled open to allow some light inside, and as Frank wandered in, he wasn't surprised to see nearly nothing had changed aside from the new bedding and the addition of a larger desk to uphold the older model of a computer he'd forgotten about until he laid eyes on it again. His old drawings still pinned to the walls along with posters of bands he didn't enjoy as much in the present, and the blue star stickers he'd pressed along the ceiling were still there, although he was certain they wouldn't shine in the darkness anymore. The room was tidy, as though he'd never left, and Frank was glad it wasn't his responsibility to revive it after he'd returned.

"The dresser and the closet are empty." Linda informed him as she set his guitar and duffel bag gingerly down onto the dark sapphire bedspread. "There's a bathroom across from you that's all yours. I have my own in my room."

"Thank you." Frank arranged his luggage near the desk chair and pushed in the elongated handle when it was no longer needed. He wiped his hands along his cardigan stained with rainwater, running his fingers through his hair stuck between dry and damp.

"Maybe we could paint in here sometime if you want."

"Oh, that's okay, I still like the color." Frank assessed the walls that were a subtle blue leaning in towards the grayer scale. He remembered picking out the shade when painting was first offered to him.

"Great. If you need anything, let me know." Linda cleared her throat and looked around with her hands at her hips. "Wanna have dinner first?"

"Yeah, can I just have a few minutes to . . .?" Frank gestured to his clothes and the unruly state of his hair, also becoming aware of the pressure in his bladder he needed to relieve.

"Sure! I'll be downstairs, maybe we can watch some television while we eat." Linda quickly retreated from Frank's room without hesitation, closing the door politely behind her.

Frank released a lengthy sigh he'd been holding in since the moment he stepped off the plane. He sank down on the end of the bed, running his hands along the covers, and took a moment to lay back against the pile of pillows accumulated at the top after reaching to pull them towards his head. He listened to the rainfall accelerate before slowing, an uneven rhythm he couldn't keep track of, and shut his eyes for a moment. He'd need to grow accustomed to the sound of rain. Some found it soothing, going as far as to use as a lullaby to drift off to sleep with, but while Frank found it peaceful before, he was reminded of the lack of sunlight he'd be experiencing, the loss of home in sunny California where he could practically taste the pleasantness of warm sunshine and free breezes on his tongue. He wondered if his father and Lorelei would miss him, or if they'd find relief in his absence to focus solely on their new marriage. He remembered sensing a tone of something strange when he suggested living with his mother again for a sum of time. Far too close to the relief he feared no matter how much they loved him. The thought stung deeper than Frank expected, so he dismissed it, and turned to dig through his back to change out of his clothes with spots of rain spreading through the fabric to create uncomfortable patches soaking in towards his skin.

Frank decided against puffing on a cigarette because he'd need to lean out the window to release the smoke, and the rain was still falling in rivets he couldn't avoid. The stubborn urge and tingle was still there, but he told himself he'd relieve it under better circumstances. He recalled Linda being a smoker herself, but he hadn't detected a trace of smoke on her scent when she embraced him earlier, and if she quit over the years, he felt inconsiderate smoking, a lingering guilty conscious no matter how cautious he'd be. He buried his pack of cigarettes deep into the nightstand drawer after deciding against smoking despite the itch and clambered down the stairs, cringing at the obnoxious groan the final step made before he fully planted his feet on the ground. Frank searched around and found Linda in the living room, setting out foldable tables after setting the pizza and a liter of Coke Zero with two cups onto the coffee table.

"What happened to your obsession with regular Coke?" Frank asked, slightly entertained as he stepped into the living room.

"I never put into consideration how much sugar is in regular soda until I saw a video on Facebook." Linda chuckled and rested paper plates onto their settings.

Frank didn't make any further comments and understood her reasons for switching. "Was it the video of someone dissolving an entire block of sugar?"

"Yes! It's appalling! I couldn't take another sip." Linda's hands waved in the air.

"They might've been exaggerating a little bit, but I understand." Frank shifted his weight. "I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."

Linda beamed. She patted his cheek on her way to the kitchen to grab a few napkins from the package sitting in the pantry.

He grabbed his serving after insisting silently his mother go first and sank down onto the slightly lumpy sofa. Linda switched on the television and they flicked through the channels until they landed on a friendly game show Frank didn't have much interest in, but he zeroed in and out as it continued so he wouldn't be caught in an uncomfortable silence with his mother. Linda never had a penchant for conversations that lasted, and Frank was more social despite also being introverted. The similarity they had was the need for space and quiet throughout their days. Frank believed they'd get along in the way where they'd mostly pay attention to their own business and prevent butting heads. He supposed he could grow used to the lack of frequent visitations to his bedroom and curious stepmothers grilling him with questions when he attempted to focus on his schoolwork.

When the divorce took place when Frank was younger, he couldn't bring himself to say he was surprised when he witnessed the gradual drifting between his parents. It was inevitable, he'd always known, and held onto no ounce of resentment. The unraveling of their marriage wasn't placed atop of a bitter dispute resulting in jarring arguments Frank wouldn't be able to forget as he grew older. The peacefulness of the lack of love caused a quiet split, and to the present day, their communication was slight unless it involved Frank. Unfortunately, divorces meant one parent moving out of the household, and Frank was almost too heavy with guilt to break the choice to his mother. He'd always bonded better with his father in a musical sense opening up another form of special communication he didn't have with Linda, though he loved her as any child would love their mother who treated him with respect and tenderness his entire life. The decision was bittersweet, but Frank admitted he was far more content living far from the grays and blues of Astoria. He fell in love with the sunshine giving Frank the rush of life he needed to fully develop into the person he always longed to be.

Frank was a musician who was used to the chaotic lifestyle of basement shows on blazing summer nights where he could lose control with the guitar slung over his shoulder like a passionate weapon. He enjoyed sitting on the porch at home at sunset with his friends as they discussed new plans for bands, projects, and everything in the sense of being free as long as the California breeze still flowed. Frank knew he'd seen the last of burnt orange and lava hot pink sunsets painting the cotton candy clouds over the hills before his drive to the airport. At least, for more months than he found bearable, and the thought of its heavy absence was enough to thicken his throat he barely used to speak because he couldn't find words to form when his happiness would bleed dry quickly in a dreary atmosphere. Frank depended on the ebullient essence of sunshine to inject itself into his veins soaking in the vibrations of the Earth around him. Rain and ice, it didn't convey nearly enough of the same energy he needed to absorb, and he wondered how long he'd last before he too blended into the dull slate grays of the sky when he wished he'd soak in the brilliance of colorful leaves no matter how they trembled while being pelted with teardrops from the clouds.

After dinner and lingering for a few more episodes of a game show , Frank excused himself by escaping to the shower. Linda directed him to the towels in the closet upstairs, offering any necessities he might've needed, but he politely thanked her for her hospitality when he insisted he had all the materials he needed. Once he was underneath the stream of warm water falling from the shower head, he was able to fully unwind, shutting his eyes as water trickled from his lashes and mixed into the streams sliding across his slick skin. The pressure of the waterfall was better than the shower head at home, he noted, and Frank fully indulged in the sensation falling against his muscles like the soothing ministrations of gentle hands. He washed through his shampoo that remained familiar, smelling distinctly of dark vanilla and a faint trace of almond, taking his time to shake away the intrusiveness of soft woes he needed to suppress if he was going to make the best of his time in Oregon. He couldn't resist feeling displeased with himself as he caught the sound of his thoughts; he'd made his decision for a plentiful good reason, and he couldn't stay away from Astoria for the remainder of his life.

The rain seemed to settle down for the evening after relentlessly spilling for hours. Frank heard the sound of the remnants dripping off the trims, streams trickling from the leaves in the trees surrounding the house. He finished changing into his pajamas and gratefully retrieved his cigarettes from the drawer he abandoned them in. Shaking his lighter out from his book bag decorated in various pins and patches, Frank opened the window that screeched from the effort, drawing a cringe from him. He leaned out into the chilled night air and took his time lighting the cigarette, the flame engulfing the tip pleasantly. He took a few gracious drags and watched as the cherry swelled the longer he held the cigarette between his fingers accustomed to gripping them. Back at home, Frank's father didn't know he smoked, and often got away with purchasing cigarettes from Hambone who always had a stash since his mother worked at a liquor store and he knew how to sneak into the case behind the counter to snag a few cartons at a time. Frank wasn't exactly proud of his addiction, but it made things easier. It silenced some of the chaos in the world he sensed. He wasn't sure how he'd get his hands on replacements now, he realized with a huff. He savored the smoky sensation filling his lungs and appreciated how it blended with the crisp night air absorbing into his skin.

A sudden knock of the door was nearly enough for Frank to drop the cigarette onto the sodden earth below. He startled at the sound and hit his head on the window he leaned out of while drawing back and up. He hissed at the pain sprouting at the crown of his head and rubbed at it with his free palm.

"Uh— just a second, I'm putting pants on." Frank called out so Linda wouldn't burst into the room unannounced.

"Sorry!" Linda sheepishly called back.

Frank frantically scampered to hide the carton of cigarettes and the lighter underneath the pillows on the bed. Realizing he had no other choice, Frank suppressed a groan as he leaned out the window and quickly scanned the ground. He flicked the cigarette into the wide puddle near the tree planted by the window. He heard it land inside the water with a soft hiss as the fire fizzled out. He wriggled the window shut, his fingers slipping a few times against the frame, and whirled around once he was finished scrambling.

"You can come in now." Frank announced, and sank onto the bed, willing his accelerated heartbeat to slow.

Linda opened the door and poked her head around it first to look around the room as if she'd never been inside it before. She stepped in when her observation was complete and Frank prayed he looked natural enough so he wouldn't be caught.

"Why did you open the window?" Linda addressed the sounds she'd heard before entering.

Frank's scarlet cheeks weren't helpful as he scrambled to form a believable excuse, but he wasn't sure how successful he'd be due to his near inability to lie.

"I, uh. My shower was a little too hot, so I opened it to get some fresh air in here." Frank tunneled his fingers through his damp locks he had scarcely ran a towel through. He hated the sound of his voice when he wasn't telling the truth. It stripped his act and rose suspicion out of whoever he spoke to.

"Well, you know, I can still smell the smoke, Frank." Linda's lips quirked as though to abstain from smiling, her arms crossing over her chest. Her battle with amusement wasn't triumphant as it escaped and came alive in her eyes.

Frank's blush spread further, red spilling towards the top of his neck in a burning temperature he could feel pulsing behind his skin. He wasn't as discreet as he'd hoped, and as he analyzed his doings, he couldn't understand how he ever believed he was.

"Am I already grounded on my first night here?" Frank sheepishly rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and averted his eyes.

"No, you're not. I don't care if you smoke as long as you don't do it in the house." Linda strolled further into the room to draw Frank's curtains shut despite the window facing a surplus of trees. "Does your father know you smoke?"

It took Frank a moment to process the lack of reprimanding coming from his own mother he clearly underestimated. He blinked a few times through his surprise, and began chewing his lower lip furiously once it began to pass.

"He doesn't. I really only did it when I was with my friends." Frank explained cautiously, unsure of how far his comfort could extend while talking about a touchy subject with a parent regardless of her understanding.

"Did you go out with them a lot?" Linda asked, still lacking the stern look Frank anticipated.

"Yeah."

"I just hope smoking is the worst thing you've done."

Frank took their stares connecting fleetingly to assess Linda. He felt the rush of her normal energy channel through the atmosphere without a trace of anger he dreaded to discover, but in the absence of it was a tendril of concern written in her irises more clearly once he detected it.

"I don't drink or do drugs if that's what you're thinking." Frank clarified. A few occasional beers at parties was the extent of his experiments, and one tragic experience with edibles. He went to the movie theater after testing them with a friend and swore the pictures on the screen were bursting to life in front of him, resulting in a panic attack in the public restroom. "You're really not mad?"

"You turned eighteen this year, you're growing up. As long as you don't touch the rest, I'm fine with it."

"Oh, okay? Thanks, I guess. For — for not flipping out." Frank shifted. "I won't smoke in the house again."

"Good. But that's not why I came up here. I wanted to talk to you about your new school." Linda awkwardly dropped herself onto the desk chair after she briefly considered sitting beside Frank on the foot of the bed and deciding against it. She crossed her legs and sighed.

Frank's lips turned down at the corners. He'd momentarily forgotten about the part where moving into another state meant becoming situated at a new school; specifically, Astoria High School. It was November, which meant he landed in the middle of the semester, the most awkward placement he could imagine. Arriving after school had been in session for a few months meant everyone was bound to have already formed their gaggles and circles, leaving little to no space for Frank to fall into place. If he ended up becoming the outcast sulking in the corner of the cafeteria pointed away from everyone else, he'd sooner crawl underneath the ground to save himself the mortifying feeling.

"Is it too late to be homeschooled?" Frank muttered partially as a joke.

Linda's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Would you rather work at home?"

Frank paused and took a moment to consider it, but didn't take too much joy in imagining constantly staying at home, out of touch with any potential friends with the gray weather and his mother as the only company in his life.

"No. I was sort of joking." Frank shook his head.

"Oh. Okay then. Well, I arranged everything for you and you're due to go in on Monday. You're registered, all you'll need to do is tell the people in the office your name and they'll guide you." Linda locked her fingers together and clasped her hands around her knee.

"I just . . . is it an okay school? Are the kids snobby or nice?" Frank wondered aloud, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

"I heard it's a nice and calm atmosphere. The kids barely get into trouble." Linda soothed his worries. "You'll do fine, kiddo. If it takes a load off your back, this school doesn't have the advanced program."

Despite himself, Frank released a heavy sigh of relief at that bit of information. As much pride as he took in being granted access to advanced school programs with his excelling grades and performance, the challenge of staying on top of the high expectations was a stressful factor in his life he always felt he couldn't back out of. Frank knew his father wouldn't show much disappointment, but he knew himself, and he couldn't step down the moment a challenge was handed to him.

"I guess that's good news." Frank swept a tendril of his slowly drying hair away from his cheek when it became ticklish.

"No uniforms either."

"My last school didn't have uniforms. The kids kept breaking the dress code, so they gave up." Frank smiled faintly, a light chuckle blowing through his nostrils.

"Your dad tells me not to be alarmed by your rock and roll look." Linda grinned, causing faint note of chagrin in Frank.

"It's really not like that." Frank went with however he felt comfortable and what made him as confident as possible while not being the most striking creature in a flock of doves.

"Don't look so embarrassed." Linda lightly patted his shoulder. "Dress code says you don't need to take out your piercings."

Frank was relieved, but then he asked, "Did you read the handbook?"

"Of course. It's my job as a parent."

"Maybe when I was in elementary school." Frank said, and realized it could've been taken as hurtful, so he softened the statement by smiling slightly in Linda's direction with a moment of eye contact so she'd notice his sincerity.

Linda smiled back, her eye crinkling along with it. "I always sent you off fully prepared. You had all the materials a kid could ever need."

"Everyone thought I was cool for having my own colorful pencil sharpeners." Frank's mind drifted back to memories that hadn't resurfaced in years.

"You always had your own pencil box, too. The teachers never had to give you one."

"And books. I brought a new book with me every week."

"Always so ahead in reading. Your teachers knew you were in for good things." Linda's fondness exuded from her and crashed against Frank in pleasant waves. His cheeks warmed and he twiddled his thumbs.

"I guess an advance program counts?" Frank asked.

"It definitely does." She stood up from the desk chair and rolled it back into place. "Well, I'm heading to my room to read until I get tired."

"I think I'm gonna do the same for about an hour and go to bed." Frank knew it was only eight in the evening, but the exhaustion in his mind couldn't be battled with for long. The knitting fog fell over him as thickly as a quilted blanket draped across his body.

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything." Linda headed towards the door.

"Thanks." Frank shifted on the bed, pursing his lips.

"Night, Frankie. Welcome back." Linda's smile over her shoulder was warm.

"Goodnight, mom." Frank returned the gesture and watched as she shut the door behind her final retreat.

Frank's attempts to focus on the pages of his battered copy of Frankenstein were futile as his mind was occupied with insecurities involving his new beginning at a high school he wasn't familiar with. Following that, he couldn't help but long for the security of home in California regardless of how comfortable he felt entangled with new bedding and piles of pillows supporting him as he leaned back against them. Frank ran the tips of his fingers across the yellowing corners of a novel he was fond of, eyes scanning across the words without absorbing them. He sighed deeply and tucked the tasseled bookmark between the pages he stopped at. Pressing the cover down over the core of the book, Frank set it aside and reached for his phone he hadn't made much use of since he arrived. His spirits were brightened to see his father texted him, but fell slightly to see it was only an image attached, one depicting a drum kit polished to perfection so it appeared good as new.

Frank responded simply, adding a thumb's up at the ending of his comment, and sent the text message without digging further into his phone. No messages from his friends nor his stepmother, but he was certain they were occupied with their lives. They'd reach out at some point, and Frank would return the sentiment soon after. He plugged his device into the charger he stuck into the outlet beside his nightstand and rested it on the surface, stretching out to flick off the lamp. The soothing lighting fell away and darkness spilled over every surface in the room, followed by the silence soon interrupted by the rhythm of rain drumming steadily against the rooftop. Frank curled up underneath the comforter and rested in a nest of pillows he formed around himself. He gazed up at the ceiling at the makeshift stars he'd attached there in childhood after noticing the frequent loss of the stars in the evening due to rainclouds concealing their brilliance. His lips quirked upwards the slightest bit to find they had quite a streak of resilience, still glowing in the darkness despite dulling out over the years. Frank hoped he'd take after the stars; dulling slightly, but never fully losing the light inside even in the gloomy conditions of Astoria.

"It's something, at least." Frank spoke to them in a soft voice still filling the quiet in the household, taking note of the absence of real stars. He paid close attention to the drumming sound of the rain and gazed at the glowing stickers above his head strung like aged jewels and was slowly lulled into a deep sleep where he found the tranquility of gentle sunlight behind his eyelids.

——

Welcome to my Twilight and MCR fanfic! I'm very pleased and excited to introduce this to you. It's an idea that's fumbled through my head so frequently that one day I decided, why the hell not?

So, just to be clear, I'm going to be adding my own personal flare while staying as true as possible to the books and the movies (yes, that means there's going to be more than one fic) and I'm going to change up a few things that didn't sit right with even the biggest Twilight lovers.

I hope you'll enjoy this. If you'd like to listen to the playlist, it's available on my Spotify, under the same username. My Spotify is linked in my description. Have a lovely day!

"In the starlit nights, I saw you. So cruelly, you kissed me. Your lips a magic world, your sky all hung with jewels."

-rosexo