THAT BOY NEEDS THERAPY!

it's a statement. like he's just saying it. affirming. and it maybe should make her feel something other than endeared. like he's a plushie and she wants to dig her teeth in rip out the stuffing. frank morrison is interesting, new but not shiny, so not shiny that's the best part. frank morrison is also tragically right.

"no. i don't." admitting some sort of defeat. blue eyes on him she tilts her head. "i guess i'm kinda into that. a little." she looks away, she's anything but shy. keep her secrets, playing some sort of game. it feels like frank knows it already. "-tell me, ever met anyone else like me?" she thinks she knows the answer, it's like she can see it. the road ahead, a tiny little red string. the kind of string you trip on. get all tangled up. the kind you can choke on.

but when she didn't get to see frank, their usual spot clear of any signs of him that's when it turned into something else. she feels bad. like it's her fault somehow for breaking up with the guy. it's even worse when frank sounds. like mad about it.

fuck.

a part of her wants to be mad back right at him, but she's worried. why the fuck is she worried? why the fuck is she feeling these things? she doesn't want it. less if he's going to act like this. "damn. okay, i just came here to see how you were doing, you dickhead." and while she knows when her presence isn't wanted, she sort of pushes back, coming in through the window, but remaining close to it. "heard what happened." she leans back, hands on the edge of the window and she's not looking at him. "i sorta feel like it's my fault." and julie doesn't fucking know what she wants out of this. frank's hurt and she just. had to see him.

"it's not your fault, jules," he drags out the words. "just 'cause he's your boyfriend doesn't mean you can control him. maybe you should try one of those electric dog collars. or strap a taser to his balls." it's a good image. almost makes frank smile. it's not enough, though. he needs the fucker dead.

first rule of stalking. do it alone. second rule of stalking. shut your fucking mouth. he sighs, like the energy is leaving his body through it. he turns, still crouched, slowly, staring at the stupid kid. frank. this one, this dumbass is frank.

"old school?" when danny was a teenager, he wasn't very good with other teenagers. too much, too mature for his age. all he could see were slabs of meat waiting to be diced and sliced. the pretending to be nice and friendly came way after high school, when he figured out the whole act. that being said, he doesn't understand why She would want brats roaming around freely without a fucking leash. "-are you even hearing yourself?" voice modulator makes his voice sound a certain way.

"well, kid. some of us do more than just swing our little knives around." they're far away from camp, he thinks She must have let the little rat loose, slipped between realms. his problem now. oh. okay. danny hasn't picked someone to watch for the night. "-there's more to this than just gutting someone open."

some might say it's a once in a lifetime opportunity, getting to watch the ghostface do his thing. but once in a lifetime isn't really a thing in the fog. frank doesn't let adults tell him what to do, as a rule, but maybe this guy's different. maybe he'll listen, just to humor the old man. "okay, sensei. lay it on me. what are the twelve easy steps to becoming a successful stalker?"