Squizie Planet

Bullets - (Prologue/11)

2009-04-20T21:30:19Z

Title: Bullets
Writer: squizie
Rating: R (to be safe)
Disclaimer: ~~This is all true. Batman came to my place a few days ago and told me this story while I stared with wide eyes. He loves investigating both Gerard and Frank for me...~~ no, lies, everything came from my very fucked up imagination. Don't sue me, please? I'll give you Batman's number if you don't.
Summary: Frank is a seventeen year old who moves to his aunt's house in Belleville, New Jersey. On the way back home from his new High School, there's an old XIX century cementery. It's always desolated, but he notices that every sunday late morning there's a man dressed in a black suit mourning and speaking to an old tomb. Why doesn't anyone want to tell him who the stranger is?
Warnings: violence, homophobia, angst, sex, language ( If you feel offended by any of this topics, please avoid reading!)

A/N: Okay... It's been forever since I've posted around here, I'm a faithful reader though. This story is going to be formed by three big parts. Also, please, keep in mind that I'm from Spain (Europe) therefore English is not my first language. I love writting in English and English literature, but I won't be surprised if I have shitloads of mistakes. So, if anyone offers to be my Beta, I'll be more than willing to have one. ;) That's about it for now, enjoy the story!

Prologue

Frank was starting to regret coming to New Jersey in the first place. It had been his idea, but he wasn't so sure it was what he wanted anymore. Belleville had turned to be a very small place in the middle of fuck-town. Where was all the action he had aimed for? What about the punk rock concerts? How was it possible that there was only one comic store near his house? He felt like a dissapointed kid when someone informed him that Santa didn't exist.

He had decided to move to his aunt Mary's house to spend his last year of High School. He had lived his whole life in Jacksonville, Florida, and he had always thought that city basically hadn't been made for him. He liked grey days, rain and dark. He needed a place where he could find inspiration for his writing. And so there he was. In the middle of fuck-nowhere. He knew since the beginning that Belleville wasn't going to be exactly like Newark town or Jersey City, but sure as hell he hadn't expect it to be this boring.

Boring.

That's how one could describe the last week in the life of Frank Iero.

His new High School wasn't that bad and he was pleased that he was at least a little ahead on every subject he had taken, but so far nothing interesting or worth writting about had happened yet.

He sighed and put his hands in his ripped jeans pockets while dragging himself to the small comic store. He had imagined Belleville as the Comic's Paradise, and then again he had been totally wrong. The owner (who he had learnt was named Mikey) smiled at him warmly once he put a foot into the shop.

" Good morning, Frank" he said fixing his black nerdy glasses.

" 'morning dude" he almost had to fight back a yawn.

Mikey frowned.

" Haven't found anything interesting to do around here yet?" he asked fumbling around some new comics he had got to refill his stock.

" Not really, but I've been thinking about maybe going to that old cementery I told you about, remember? And maybe chase a few vampires " he grinned picking up one item from the shelves. He made his way to the counter taking in his surrondings. It was a small store but it felt comfortable to be there, like a second home. Lots of diferent comics everywhere, DC, Marvel, Dark Horse... and some indie editorials too. He smiled at Mikey, he had liked him since the first day they had talked. With his thick black glasses and his shyness, he had demonstrated to be very smart and easy going. A good friend.

" Oh, it sounds like a plan... It's 9.50$ " Mikey rolled his eyes and handed the comic to him.

" Actually, I think I'll just go there and try to write something "

Mikey's eyes were brighted with excitment.

" Have you started writing that super dark novel that would make you the most famous American writer of all times?"

" Ergh... no... " Mikey pouted, all anticipation gone " ... but I think I've possibly found a source of inspiration for the main character" he added biting his tongue with innocence.

" Oh, really? Tell me about it, or more like tell me about him"

" I already did, remember? And you didn't want to talk about it. That weird guy I saw last Sunday when I walked past the cementery... I don't know why, but he looked interesting and weird enough... "

Mikey tried to keep on with his light tone but grabbed the edge of the counter gripping it tightly. He plastered his best fake smile.

" Frank, you really need to get a girlfriend. And forget about stalking strangers"

He sighed and gave him the money.

" Yeah, probably. See you next Sunday, or maybe even earlier"

" See you... "

He started reading his new adquisition, Bloody Mary by Garth Ennis, one of his favorite comic writers, and headed to the cementery street. A few minutes later, he was on the front door deciding if he should go in or not. He took the book into his bag and, taking a deep breath, he stepped in.

It was empty, just like the rest of the times he had been there.

No one seemed to care about their dead beloved ones in that town. There were a few flowers here and there but it was mainly desolated and cold looking. They have left the grass grow uncontrollaby and everything had a decadent creepy look. After a good half an hour of walking through tombs and trying to come up with an idea to start his oh so brilliant to be story, he heard a soft voice near him. He stopped in his tracks and glanced around trying to find someone. At the end of the cementery, near the small forest, there was a man wearing a black suit. He was knelt down one of the tombs and speaking in a very low tone. Frank had seem him before, in that exact same position and also talking to whoever was buried there. He walked slowly trying to get a better view without being caught. He hid between two tall mausoleos and observed the stranger. He had black raven hair long until his chin. He stood up all of a sudden leaving a few red roses behind him.

Once Frank was sure that the man was out of the picture, he went to the tomb and checked the roses out. They were at least twenty four natural ones. All the flowers he had seem around the tombs were made of plastic and looked like they had been there forever. But these were new ones, they were replacing the ones the man had left exactly one week earlier. He wondered why someone would bring new roses to a tomb every Sunday when no one even cared to visit that cementery anymore. He leaned in and tried to read. There was no name, nor a date, just a small little rose painted in the center of the grave. He stayed there, standing, like if he had grown roots and wasn't able to move, until a few cold drops fell down his face. It was starting to rain and soon he would be soaked if he didn't rush back home. He sighed, still confused, and walked back home trying to figure out who could be buried in a tomb without name. A girl named Rose? No, that sounded stupid.

When he arrived to his aunt's house he was completly wet. She was cleaning up the living room with some background music. Frank Sinatra.

"Oh Frank, you are soaked darling. Why don't you change your clothes and give me those ones to dry up?"

He nodded absentmindly.

" Aunt..." he began.

" Yeah, sweetie?"

" Why doesn't anyone visit the old cementery anymore?"

Aunt Mary kept on cleaning up the living room while speaking.

" Because practically all the tombs are too old for anyone alive to remember, darling. They've built a new cementery out of town some decades ago and that's where everyone goes now"

Frank frowned. Now everything was even more confusing.

" Well, apparently there's a man who doesn't think the same. I always see him every Sunday Morning placing red roses on a tomb... a nameless tomb by the way... "

Aunt Mary stopped cleaning and looked at Frank with fear in her eyes.

" Don't get anywhere near that man, Frank" she warned swallowing thickly.

" What? Why? "

" Let's say that... Jersey is definitly not Jacksonville... so yeah, don't go to that cementery, Frank. It's old and horrible anyways, I'll take you one day to the new one if you want to. And now, hurry up and change your clothes! I don't want you to get sick your first month of school! "

Frank nodded in silence and went to his room wondering what could be so wrong about the man in the black suit.

The Moonlight - Chapter 2

2008-09-17T16:17:56Z

Title: The Moonlight
Author: squizie
Rating: R to be safe
Disclaimer: I just own the mysteries hidden in the shadow of The Moonlight. Don’t sue me, please? You’ll get slash cocktails for free if you don’t *grins*
Summary: New York City 1946, The Moonlight is a very famous cocktail bar in the middle of Manhattan, designed specially for those creatures of the night who prefer the dark covered hours to waste their lives and money in alcohol and very manly giggles. War is over but many lost souls walk by themselves around the city, stick in hand, cig on the lips, ready to spit on fate’s face. Frank Iero is one of them, an ironic and excentric wealthy man who ends up one night in The Moonlight. He believes that he has seem everything, learnt everything, lived everything… until he runs into Mr. Way, a shy and introvertive pianist with long pale fingers.
Warnings: Homosexuality, homophobia, sex, violence, language, misticism.
A/N: I'm so sorry that it took that long for the update to be ready. I've been ill for a few days and then Internet started bitching me. Another thing, I hope the story gets better in the next chapter, I needed the first ones to develope a little the main characters.
Dedications: To my beautiful beta heart_4_heart , once again, she couldn't beta this, my fault, of course, my e-mail is fucked up, I'll send you my new one as soon as possible, thank you for your patient dear [and thanks as well to all the umbrellas in the world for existing!], thanks to my special readers sisterto_sleep and keepthevanity for always giving me constructive criticism and making some space in their lives for this story. Thanks a lot as well to everyone who reads this story and who had the patient to wait for this chapter.</lj></lj></lj></lj>

Moon Sonata

“I was waiting for you…”

“Excuse me for making you wait…”

“It’s nothing of your business, Frank…”

“Did you know that you are like the Adora Moon?”

“Really?”

Everything was dark. He had no idea where he was, all he could see was black. He felt dizzy, his stomach was twitching hard, a big sensation of vertigo got the best of him. He was falling. Falling and falling and falling. He looked up and all he found was emptiness, he glanced down and his eyes crashed into darkness. It wasn’t a fast fall, he was more like slipping down a non-existent children slide. A feeling he wasn’t very familiar with filled his entire body, fear was running through his nerves like blood in veins, there was a knott at the top of his throat, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t breath… Then how could he be alive? Convinced that he was dying, he closed his eyes and softened his muscles up letting himself go…

When he opened them again, he was in a dark threatre, there was no one there but him and, all of sudden, a small light appeared in the middle of the stage, it was bright white. At first, he couldn’t figure out anything but the light, blind by it, but little by little his eyes adjusted themselves and he started to visualizate a big shape. A soft embriagating melody crept up his ears slowly, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The shape turned clearer, it was a grand piano. The music got louder and louder until all Frank could feel, all Frank could hear, and all Frank could know was the song, nothing but the song. The volume of the notes increased and they went near strident.

When he was starting to believe that the beauty of the melody was too much to bare, there was a sudden flash and he could see the pianist’s face. He was looking at him, smirking, with an odd brightness of knowledge shinning in his greenish eyes. Frank lost himself in those eyes until the music strangled his senses. He tried to scream, even if he knew that he couldn’t…

He opened his eyes at once, searching with his hand the lamp that he knew it was placed down his nightstand.

“Damn…” he muttered.

Eventually he found it and switched it on.

He was covered in sweat and he could hear the beating of his heart pounding in his ears. He sat up and closed his eyes counting mentally until ten. Once he was able to catch his breath, he looked around his bedroom. It was still dark outside but it wouldn’t take long for dawn to break up.

“It was a dream… just a dream…” he convinced himself.

But he didn’t go back to sleep.

Someone knocked on the door lightly.

He had been awake a few hours but he hadn’t gone downstairs to have breakfast, he checked his big clock hanged on one of his bedroom’s walls. It was already ten in the morning. He twisted for a second in his position trying to forget the throbbing pain installed in his head, it had been aching non stop since that odd dream…

No.

There was no dream.

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Come in” he shouted shutting his eyes to fake a serene face.

“Good morning, Sir. Someone on the phone has asked to talk to you” his good old Alfred haven’t changed even a little bit.

It looked like years didn’t pass for him at all. Frank could remember him since forever, he was born in that house and Alfred and a few more people were already there working for his father. When he had passed away, Frank decided that it wasn’t necessary to keep all the service, since it was just him, but Alfred was like family. He didn’t like the way housekeepers whisper to each other and gossip all day long. Besides he was sick of having to give explanations whenever he took some beauty home, now he was the man of the house, he was the last Iero and he wasn’t about to take any crap from any servant.

“Who is it?” he asked.

He thought that it could be Bob Bryar feeling guilty for leaving him all by himself in The Moonlight the past night.

Gah, he was probably messing around with some lady… he rolled his eyes smirking.

“It’s Mr. Toro, Sir”

Frank jumped in his chair. Ray was his best friend, they had grown up together in the same wealthy Victorian boulevard. They had done everything together, but since Ray had left for the war they had lost a lot of contact, once war was over he had decided to travel back to Paris, apparently that city seduced him completely.

Indeed, French ladies are the ones who seduced him… and as usual he rolled his eyes again.

The poor old Ray, what could he possibly want? Then he remembered that he was probably making an international call and that he shouldn’t make him wait.

“Thank you, Alfred” he said standing up and heading out of his bedroom.

He grabbed the phone with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Ray, my friend!” he practically shouted.

“Frank? Is it you?” the high pitch voice of his friend saluted him from the end of the line.

“Yeah it is me. How have you been man?”

“Pretty awesome, actually. It looks like French women can’t ever get satisfied. They love me too much… “ he let out a quick laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you left for good then, now I have all the Manhattan ladies just for myself”

“You’ve always had them anyways. So what have you got mattured during these last months and asked some good woman to marry you?”

Frank giggled like a kid.

“No way man. Too many ladies around to pick just one. I want them all”

“Hahahahahaha. You are such a motherfucker sometimes, you know”

“Thanks”

“So, do you still play poker, my dear fellow?”

“Not that much anymore… Since my father died I have a lot of preocupations and lost some touch with the rest…”

There was a long silence from Ray.

“Uhmm, that’s a shame you know… because I was thinking about setting a game tonight, somewhere”

“Oh that would be great Ray, and I would defenitly go you know, just you should have told me first, flying to Paris isn’t something you can plan all of a sudden, hahaha” he joked.

“Oh true, but guess what? I’m in the city!”

“You kidding me? Why on Earth haven’t you said that first?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. So what, are you coming?”

“Yes, of course”

“The problem is that Eliah’s Club closed I think, where could we set it?”

Frank said the words without thinking.

“The Moonlight”

“What’s that?”

“Just a new cocktail bar, don’t worry, I’ll sort it out, Bob Bryar knows the owner”

“Okay then. I’ll pick you around eight”

“Goodbye then”

“Goodbye”

He hung the phone and made his way back to his room.

“Alfred!” he screamed.

“What, Sir” the butler came out of one of the living rooms.

“Could you please call Eloise Montong? I want to take her with me tonight, tell her I’m meeting with a few old friends to play poker”

“Of course, Sir”

Once in his bedroom, Frank turned on the gramaphone, he tuned it up and went back to his desk to keep on working.

Eloise, the beautiful Eloise, there were a lot like her in Manhattan. With her blonde curly hair, her slightly tanned skin and dark blue eyes. He sighed remembering her hips and her perfectly modeled briests. All of a sudden a sound came from the music machine, it was a melody he knew pretty well.

Moon Sonata by Beethoven.

He flicked his eyes open almost widely. The sensual image of Eloise had been replaced with a pair of bright greenish eyes and a crooked smile. For the duration of a second, Frank replaced in his mind the feeling of Eloise’s skin with the touch of long pale fingers.

A cold shiver crossed his spine and he realized that his headache had become worse.

Ray and Frank hugged tightly.

"What have you been doing in my absence Frank?" Ray looked at him suspiciously and bitting his bottom lip trying not to laugh.

Frank looked up at him confused.

"Sorting some of my father's papers, speaking to lawyers... Hitting on ladies... " he smirked.

"Oh, you have to have done it so good since you aren't only full of yourself but have grown up a few inches as well"

Frank frowned and fought back the urgency to stick his tongue out. Ray was always teasing him about his height like when they were children.

"Yeah, whatever Ray, I don't know how ladies want them in France but here, short men are very welcomed, you know... Men with also short charm hair and not a fro..."

Ray punched him with the elbow in the stomach lightly.

"Shut up"

Frank laughed histerically.

"I think the rest if the gentlemen will be already waiting for us in the Moonlight, we should get in" he suggested.

Frank saluted the door man with a small gesture and a mumbled Good Night and then both men stepped into the cocktail bar.

The owner was already waiting for them next to the bar.

"Good Night, Mr. Iero" she said smiling at Frank seductively.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it gently.

"Good Night"

"I have already set a room apart so you gentlemen can enjoy some privacy during your game. I hope everything is as you like it"

"I'm sure it is" he nodded.

"I'm Ray Toro, by the way" Ray sticked his hand out introducing himself to the beautiful lady.

Frank grinned and almost rolled his eyes knowing perfectly that expression in his friend's face. He was a sucker for pretty women.

"Follow me, here" she invited directing them to the game room.

Once they were in, they found the rest of the group already sat down and drinking.

"I'll send you a waiter in a few minutes" she announced and left.

Frank said Hi to everyone and shook all their hands. He felt uncomfortable, he couldn't put his finger on what was making him feel wrong, but all of a sudden that place didn' t feel that appealing anymore. It was like if some of the magic was gone.

"Wow with the owner, eh Frank?" Ray snapped him out of his trance.

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"I said that we have such a woman around, do you think she is married? She wasn't wearing a ring"

"Uhmm, indeed I have no clue but, I don't think that would be a problem for her, you know..."

Ray gave him a look without understanding anything.

"Last night Bob Bryar went home with her, I think" he explained.

Ray whistled.

"Who would think that Bob was that kind of man?" he giggled and Frank smiled, Bob Bryar was a man full of surprises.

"Where should I sit?" a woman's voice sounded all of a sudden.

Frank had almot forgotten that Eloise was there.

"Ugh, sit wherever you please, Eloise. I want you near me to give me luck" he said.

She smiled and kissed him briefly. Ray got the chance to glanced quickly at the girl's prominent breasts, he licked his lips.

"Ray!" Frank yelled.

"Sorry, sorry" he said smirking.

Suddenly Frank realised what was missing there. The music. Why wasn't anyone playing the piano? Why wasn't the pianist playing?

"What would you like to have, Sir?" the waiter asked.

"Uhmm a whiskey will be just good, thank you"

"Are you sure you don't want to try our speciality in cocktails?" he insisted.

Frank shivered.

"No, I think I'll prefer a plain whiskey, thanks"

The waiter kept on asking the rest of the gentlemen, and when he was about to leave the room to take them the drinks, Frank grabbed him by the arm.

"Excuse me, do you know when the pianist is supposed to start playing?"

The waiter looked confused.

"Excuse me, Sir. What are you talking about?"

"The pianist. Yesterday night he was playing for hours, he should be playing by now"

"I don't know what you are talking about, Sir. We have no pianist in the Moonlight"

The Moonlight- Chapter 1

2008-08-30T01:14:11Z

Title: The Moonlight
Author: </a></b></a>squizie
Ranting: R, to be safe.
Disclaimer: I only own the mysteries hidden down The Moonlight's shadow. Don't sue me, please? I'll give you free cocktails if you don't! *grins*
Summary: New York City 1946, The Moonlight is a very famous cocktail bar in the middle of Manhattan, designed specially for those creatures of the night who prefer the dark covered hours to waste their life and money in alcohol and very manly giggles. War is over, but many souls walk by themselves around the city, stick in had, cig on the lips, ready to spit on fate's face. Frank Iero is one of them, an ironic and excentric wealthy man who ends up one night in The Moonlight. He believes that he has seem everything, learnt everything, lived everything... until he runs into Mr. Way a shy and introvertive pianist with long pale fingers.
Warnings: Homosexuality, homophobia, sex, language, misticism.
A/N: This first chapter isn't beta, but the next one will be. Forgive me for any possibles mistakes, please.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my future beloved beta </a></b></a>heart_4_heart and also the girl with the cutest icon in the world! [yeah, i do have a festish with gerards and umbrellas put together, just ignore me lol] And also to everyone who has given an opportunity to this story, </a></b></a>sisterto_sleep 3 cheers for introvertive gerards, haha], </a></b></a>keepthevanity now that we mutually love each other we can head to The Moonlight and get wasted with free cocktails!! [I feel kinda hyper, excuse me?] ]

First Cocktail: Adora Moon

Instructions of how to prepare a perfect Adora Moon.

Ingredients:

2 shoots of vodka [pretty much salty]
2 shoots of cointreau [kind of sickly]
2 shoots of peach schnapps [the perfect sweetness]
1 ½ shoots of grenadine [some sense of bitterness]

Mix everything. Shake it and add top up lemonade [sarcastically acid]

Et voilá! You’ll have The Moonlight’s special cocktail.

********

It was a peaceful night, a gentle wind made some of the oak’s branches tremble in delightment, there were just a few people walking casualy, most of them men. They were moving in small groups of three or four individuos to the most, chatting and laughing once in a while, a few were heading to some kind of private club, others excusing themselves and making their way back home, to their sleeping wives.

The neon lights iluminated them all the way to the hotel, it was situated a few metres far from Frank’s victorian style house. They both remained silent, five minutes afterwards 71 Street was clearly empty, free of whispers and stern comments, there was no sound filling the air around the two friends, even the light breeze had ceased.

It was only heard the soft zumps from Bob’s stick hitting the sidewalk, their breathing getting in and out, their steps firm and agile. The high buildings were surronded with a tight closed fog causing at the same time a fantasmagoric sensation and the feeling that night everything was possible. Or impossible. The smoke from the pipe and the cigarrette mixed itself with the freezing white cloud. Soon enough, Bob’s stick stopped and its owner pointed at a blue neon sign, it was classy and elegant. The Moonlight, it said.

“Here we are” he announced.

Frank nodded.

The door was navy blue, and a guy wearing a black frac was standing in front, with a list between his hands.

“Mr. Bryar” Bob said to the guy “And company” he added glancing in Frank’s direction.

The guy nodded and opened the door for them.

“Have a good evening, gentlemen” he saluted.

Frank and Bob took their hats off and stepped inside.

The first thing Frank noticed once they were in was the smell. He couldn’t distinguish the exact scent, he sniffed with discretion, roses, wet roses and orquids too.

He sniffed again, what was that sweet smell?

He frowned frustruated, he was sure he had smelled that scent before, he just couldn’t figure right that second what it was. He was about to ask Bob when he found it leaned over the bar talking to who it looked like the barmen’s boss.

“Could you please tell the owner that Mr. Bryar is here?” The barmen wasn’t convinced.

“We are good friends” he assured.

He looked around the room. There were round oak tables distribued here and there, the armchairs where covered with some bright dark blue fabric and lined with golden thread. Some gentlemen were conversating and drinking colorful liquors. He found out that he knew some of the faces, everyone looked very confortable. The ambient was light and soft, favorable for confidences and secrets. He realised that a group of radical politics could be there arranging the details for a state coup and no one would suspect a thing. There were smiles everywhere. Then his ears caught up something.

What was that sound?

He looked around in search of some hidden gramophone, but he found nothing. The melody was delicious, wrapping, he felt the sudden urge to surrend himself to the notes. Why did that sound like Beethoven’s Moon Sonata? Was it really that piece? Impossible. In a way it sounded like Beethoven, but at the same time it sounded like something totally different. New. And scary. And exciting. All at once.

Where was that music from?

Suddenly, Bob’s words snapped him out of his trance.

“And this is Frank Iero. You problably remember his father, he was a one of my most loved friends. After the accident I took on myself the responsibility to protect the boy. Frank? This is Juliette Steward, the owner of The Moonlight”

Frank looked at the woman standing in front of him. She was taller than him, her eyes were a shiny dark brown, her lips were full and red with lipstick. Her brown hair clinged to her bare shoulders. A long black and white dress covered her visible perfect and esbelt siluette. She was gorgeous and she knew it.

Juliette offered her hand to Mr. Iero’s son with a hint of curiosity on her eyes. Frank took her hand and kissed the long white glove with a small bow.

“Pleased to meet you, my lady”

“My pleasure, Frank, can I call you Frank?” she asked.

“Certainly” he kissed her hand once again and finally let it go.

She had to be at least on her fourties, but Juliette brighted with grace and beauty.

“Let’s sit down that table next to the window” Bob suggested.

Frank agreeded and followed him. They sat down.

“What would the gentlemen like to drink?” one of the waiters asked.

“I want a double whiskey with water and ice, please” Bob ordered.

“And you, sir?” the waiter spoke to Frank.

He thought for a minute.

“What is your speciality?” he questionated.

“Cocktails, of course”

“Yes, I can imagine. But don’t you have something, really special? My friend here” he pointed at Bob vaguely “knows I am sucker for special things” he explained smiling mischeviously when he pronuanced the word sucker.He knew his extravagant behavious used to ennervate his friend.

The waiter’s face lighted up.

“Oh, would you sir like to try our Adora Moon?” he asked.

“Adora Moon?” Frank looked at Bob and he grinned.

“That’s a bit strong, Frank, you should stick with whiskey, if you aren’t careful tomorrow you will wake up with a crazy hangover”

Frank smirked.

“I have tons of whiskey at home, Bob” he whined “ I haven’t come here to drink some old school Jack Daniels, I want something special. That Adora Moon would make it” he added looking straight to the waiter.

“Of course, sir”

The waiter retired himself and left them alone.

Bob lighted up his pipe sucking at it hard and smiling through his teeth. He was looking at Frank’s expresion with curiosity, he seemed about to levitate.

“She is a beautiful woman, isn’t she?” he said.

Frank looked confused for a moment.

“Ugh, excuse me, what?”

Bob had to fight the urgency to roll his eyes.

“Juliette, boy, you are thinking about here, right?”

Frank nodded reluctantly. He hadn’t been thinking about Juliette at all. Of course she was very pretty, but bedroom stuff could wait for later, now he was intrigued. As soon as the waiter had vanished he had remembered the sweet scent he couldn’t manage to discern and that sickly beautiful music…

“What I wouldn’t give to get into her bed…” Bob’s ranting got to Frank’s ears like if his friend was far far away. Centuries away.

He inhaled the scent deeply, letting it fill him little by little. And as the odor took control of his smell sense, the music took advantage of his hearing. He closed his eyes, embriagated.

“And those hips of hers… Ohh, you have so much to learn, Frank, so much…” Bob kept on apparently oblivious to Frank’s state of non sense.

He decided that he needed to complete the beauty of his sensation with some visual action. He flipped his eyes open, ever so slowly, and looked around through his long eyelashes, he was looking for Juliette, oh that beautiful Juliette… but what his eyes found was another totally different sight.

A piano.

A grand piano. It was black and cromated. The yellow light from the lamp reflected itself on the surface. Someone was sat down a stool and playing the instrument. He just could see their back. For the duration of a second Frank could almost swear that he had seem a white and pure aura surronding the pianist. He blinked quickly, once, twice… And the efect faded away.

“Frank, are you listening to me? What do you think about The Moonlight?” Bob interrupted his moment of owe.

“Yeah. It’s definitly something.”

“Do you know what?” Bob leaned up towards him trying to speak in a low voice. “I think Juliette liked you… “ he smirked “And I can’t judge her, you are young and good looking, ah… if only I was twenty years younger…”

The waiter appeared and placed two tall glasses on the table. Bob’s was short and wide filled with ice cubes and whiskey. Frank’s was tall and tight, in the border it was placed a piece of lemon.

“I hope you like the Adora Moon, sir”

Frank took the glass and placed it on his lips taking a small sip, he tasted it carefully afraid he wouldn’t like it and spit it on someone’s face. He smiled.

“It’s sublime. A complete mix of savours. What does it have?”

The waiter smiled enigmaticaly.

“It’s The Moonlight’s secret”

Frank frowned and the waiter left.

“Drink it carefully, as I told you, it’s strong” Bob cautioned him.

Frank nodded absentmindly, he was too busy observing the pianist. Now that he knew where the music was from he was even more into it. He was practically sure that was a Beethoven’s Sonata.

“Have you guessed any of the ingredients?” Bob interrupted him once again. “Everyone talks about it, since the cocktail bar was opened they are trying to figure out how the Adora Moon is made, but with not so much result”

Frank drank again.

“Uhmm, let me see… It has an odd taste, sweet, bitter, salty and acid at the same time, I don’t know how to explain it… You give it a sip and you find it sickly sweet, almost puking inciting, you give it another drink and you find it citrus refreshing…”

Bob opened his eyes in disbelief.

Frank shrugged.

“I don’t know why everyone wants to find out the ingredients…” he pointed out.

“Why not? It’s out of pure curiosity, I assume” Bob said drinking from his own glass.

“Yeah. But once they solve the mystery, it will stop being special”

“Uhmm” that was all Bob responded.

Twenty minutes later, Frank couldn’t stand it anymore. The song had been sounding over and over again without stopping, and instead of becoming irritant he was finding himself more and more drawn into the picture, like a massive and dangerous force. Maybe it was the cocktail high alcohol level’s fault, maybe it was the place, the sound, the smell… or maybe it was Frank himself, but he couldn’t resist it, he stood up and walked towards the pianist direction.

Bob obvserved him surpirsed but without in silence.

He only had to walk a few steps until he got the small stage, he went up and looked directly at the pianist’s back. He was a man, he had longish dark hair covering his nape.

Too long, Frank thought.

He was wearing a total black suit, tight, it looked as soft as velvet and Frank found himself longing to touch it.

What on Earth…?, he thought.

He walked slowly around the piano, now having a better vision of the man and the instrument. The end of his black tie caressed the key’s slowly, just like his fingers. He paused for a while on his hands. They were perfectly shaped, fine but strong, the pale long fingers danced around the keyboard like professional ballerinas. They pressed one key, two, three, ten… But ever so softly and inviting. He looked at the stranger’s face. Part of it was covered with some dark bangs of his fringe, he was pale like the hands but a pink rosish shadow found his way to his round high cheeks. The skin looked as soft as the suit and Frank pictured in his mind the velvet again. His eyes were closed, in concentration, though there was no other sign on his expression than pure calm and rejoicing. He just could guess a glimpse of his mouth.

What am I doing here…?, a voice asked in the very back of Frank’s mind.

But he couldn’t careless in that particular moment.

He let his right hand rest on top of the instruments cover feeling the music vibrations and giving away the last sense. He could retain all the feelings in one now. The cocktails taste, the room’s smell, the beautiful music, the touch of the piano making the blood rush in his veins and the inusital sight in front of him.

Without meaning it, he sighed. And the pianist opened his eyes.

Frank felt how his cheeks blushed a deep shade of red. He looked down, embarresed. He felt like a little kid caught up stealing a lollipop from a candy store. When he got the courage enough to look up with a lame excuse ready on his lips, he found the pianist looking directly to him, but he didn’t look curious like Frank. No. He looked annoyed. Very.

He looked that angry that Frank didn’t even dare to speak, but he couldn’t force himself to leave either. A strange fear alerted his senses that if he left it would hurt, it would hurt to no end. So he stood there, watching him, staring. And wishing at the same time that the floor opened down his feet and swallowed him completely.

The pianist didn’t stop once to play the song. The rhythm changed with what Frank thought it was his mood. Now his hands were moving fast, back and forth, back and forth. He was pressing the keys harder, almost hitting them, the tranquil expression has disappeared and his eyes were still opened sending daggers to the intruse. Frank.

He tried to give him a confused and innocent look, but the pianist wasn’t buying it. As peaceful and unharmful as he had looked before now Frank wasn’t so sure anymore, it looked like he was about to attack him. He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to threaten him in silence. Frank swallowed thickly. He wished he could come to his senses enough to run away, to move from his position at least and stop making a fool of himself. But he couldn’t. Standing there was at the same time scary and beautifuly painful. It was nothing he had experienced before.

The musician gave him a dirty look, increasing the speed and the noise of the instrument.

Salty, very salty, Frank thought to himself. I don’t understand why he looks so mad, but he is not saying anything about it.

If he asks me to leave, I will. Meanwhile, I’ll stay, he decided. He couldn’t put his finger on what was making him stay, but he was.

All of a sudden, the melody became schamltzy, slushy, there was no trace of irritation anymore.The pianist had closed his eyes again, moving his own body slowly with the sound of the piece. His fingers flexioned a little and practically dragged themselves in agony through the keyboard, like if the work to pass from one key to another was absolutly devasting.

Frank was caught up into the atmosphere again, he lost control of his body and his senses, he felt so tired, exhausted, his muscles were flexing above all his knees, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent harder. Everything was overwhelming, he felt like if he was about to be sick.

This is sickly crazy, beautiful and painful at the same time, he thought grabbing the piano to not lose his balance.

He felt the knott on his throat, like a small ball of sweets. He felt the first retch, but he fought it back covering his mouth. He was about to turn around and try to leave ignoring the threaten in his head about pain, when he felt the silence.

Real silence.

He glanced at the pianist in horror. He was looking at him with serenity, he wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either.

“Were you playing Beethoven’s Moon Sonata?” Frank asked trying to compuse himself.

The pianist ignored his question.

“I was waiting for you” he announced.

“Excuse me for making you wait” Frank answered. He said the words, but he was practically sure that he hadn’t thought them, they just slipped from their lips by themselves.

“And yes, it was the Moon Sonata, kind of very apropiate, don’t you think?” he said smiling shyly.

A shiver crossed Frank’s spine.

“Yes. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You guys here have a fetish with the moon, right? The Moonlight, Adora Moon, Moon Sonata…”

“Have you tried the Adora Moon?” the pianist asked curious.

Frank nodded trying to remember how to breath. God damn him right that second if he had seem in his life a sweeter smile.

He all himself rezumes sweetness… he thought.

“Now I understand” the stranger said enigmatically.

“What’s your name?” Frank asked without being able to control himself.

“Did you know that the simplest questions are the deepest ones? Like, where were you born? What’s your name? Where is your home? Where are you going? What are you doing?”

Frank didn’t know what to answer.

“Ask yourself those questions once in a while and observe how the answers change…”

“But…” he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what. “What’s your name?” he asked again.

The pianist sighed in irritation.

“It’s nothing of your business, Frank”

“Are you always bitter like that?” he asked annoyed.

“No, but for you I’m making an exception…”

The acid comment of the man made the final clic on Frank’s head. Acid.

At firstthe strangers’ behaviour had been distant, salty, then he had slapped him with a wave of sickly sweetness, he had turned down the sweetness until it became a line of cute and sweet, but soon enough the bitter comeback had arrived and, to top up, his sarcastically acid answer.

“Did you know that you are like an Adora Moon?” Frank told him smiling awkardly.

The pianist raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?”

Before Frank could respond the music of the piano started filling his ears. He turned back and looked at his table. Bob was gone. How much time had he been standing there? He checked his chain clock and froze. It was past 3 am. He shook his head and went to pay the drinks without saying goodbye to the pianist.

“Everything is paid, sir” the barman told him.

Frank waved him and crossed the exit door.

“Good night, sir” the doorman saluted him.

“Night” he answered.

Not until he arrived to his building’s doorway he remembered that the pianist had called him Frank.

The Moonlight

2008-08-28T21:18:09Z

The Moonlight

Title: The Moonlight
Author: squizie

Rating: R, to be safe.
Disclaimer: I only own the mysteries hidden down The Moonlight's shadow. Don't sue me, please? You'll have slash cocktails for free if you don't!

Summary: New York City 1946, The Moonlight is a very famous cocktail bar in the middle of Manhattan, designed specially for those creatures of the night who prefer the dark covered hours to waste their lives and money in alcohol and very manly giggles. War is over, but many lost souls walk by themselves around the city, stick in hand, cig on the lips, ready to spit on fate's face. Frank Iero is one of them, an ironic and excentric wealthy man who ends up one night in The Moonlight. He believes that he has seem everything, learnt everything, lived everything... until he runs into Mr. Way, a shy and introvertive pianist with long pale fingers.

Warnings: Homosexuality, homophobia, sex, violence, language, misticism.
A/N: Hello everyone! I'm starting this new story and I'd love to have a beta, pretty much to help me out improve day by day, if someone is willing to help me, please let me know, I'll love you forever!!!

Prologue

Bob Bryar crossed his legs and looked at the fireplace. The crackling flames changed from yellow to red, from red to yellow. He sucked a few times at his French pipe, pensive, lost in his own thoughts, eventually he turned around to look at his friend. Frank Iero was acrossed him, sat down an armchair like Bryar himself, but in a totally oposite position, his legs weren’t crossed, his back was straight and so were his shoulders. He was also smoking, but from a cigarette holder, he only smoked cigs, he found pipes petulant. Bob grabbed his chain clock from his pocket, it was nearly midnight. He glanced back to his friend, Frank had a hard frown plastered on his forehead, he seemed dead bored.

Bob sighed and uncrossed his legs.

“Have you been in The Moonlight, my dear fellow?”

Frank snapped out of his hypnotic boredom and looked at him surprised. He thought for a minute.

“No, I don’t think so”

“It was opened a couple of months ago. It’s a new cocktail bar in the Reign Hotel, not far from here” he explained suggestively.

Frank took a long drag from his cig and blew the smoke in front of his face trying to form little circles. That was his particular way to show someone that he was considerating something.

“Is it special?” he asked concerned, he wasn’t about to waste his precious time going to some random bar, he had enough liquors at home if he wanted to get drunk.

Bob let out a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah, it is. It defenitly has something special. There’s this smell in the air… I don‘t know how to explain it”

“Could you be possibly speaking about alcohol odor?” Frank said sarcastically.

Bob shrugged and sucked at his pipe again.

“It’s something else. The ambient, the scenary… everything is inviting” he explained.

Frank raised an eyebrow looking at him skeptically.

“I have the feeling that place could corrupt the purest of the souls” he confessed trying to hide a shiver.

Frank laughed at his friend’s words taking them as only a joke. He stood up fixing his light stripped tweed.

“What are we waiting for then?” he questionated.