Choking the trigger is a chore

Killjoy Alter-Ego~ :D

criminalsofwar — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 14:51:42 GMT

So, i don't even remember what i was trying to draw, but it came out as this, lol.

Name's Desert Destroya :D

Killjoy ID -Desert Destroya- by ~Killerxtomato on deviant ART

LOL teasers :3 (Un-titled-as-of-yet Zombie fic)

criminalsofwar — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 02:49:23 GMT

So I'm pretty sure this is either going to just be Gen, or if-you-squint-really-hard Ferard... I don't know XD
Here it is~! :D <3

Two weeks after first Infection….

The four of them were in a dark alley, all peering around anxiously, guns at the ready, a distant thunder storm rumbling off in the distance, illuminating the sky with lightning.

“Hey, hold up.” Brian stopped, from where he’d been leading the group, crouching to investigate a puddle of some kind of green goo. “Haven’t seen anything like this before...”

“Jesus. Don’t let that stop you from smearing it all over yourself.” Frank mocked, laughing, coming to a stop next to Brian, who glared up at him, standing and promptly wiping the goo on his fingers on Frank’s shirt.

“They’re changing.”

“Aww… Damnit Brian! It stinks!” Frank groaned, trying to wipe it off while Mikey laughed at him.

A quiet, muffled sob reached their ears.

“Someone’s still alive!” Gerard hurried to the nearby door, where the moaning sobs were the loudest. Brian was right there beside him, helping him open the door. The room inside is pitch dark as the crept cautiously in, Brian in the lead. Gerard scanned the room with his flashlight, the crying getting steadily louder.

“Hello? Hello? Hey, it's okay... We're gonna –“ Gerard cut himself off as lightning flashed, bringing the entire room into view.

Sitting in the beam of Gerard’s flashlight was a girl, no, not a girl anymore. She had pale, white skin, and deadly looking claws on her hands, sobbing. He was stunned.

Brian knocked his flashlight down, “Lights off!”

A sudden shotgun blast reaches them, along with the rat-a-tat of machine gun fire, accompanied by a shout from Mikey.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit! Shit!”

Mikey slides into the doorway, “They’re coming! …What the…” His eyes land on the girl, one of the Infected, flashlight shining straight on her. The zombie looks up at them, no longer crying, and hisses, pushing itself up.

“Run like hell!” Gerard shouted, pulling Mikey and Brian out of the room, Mikey slamming the door behind them, holding it shut as best he can. The creature pounded on the metal door viciously, making it bow out in places with only a few hits, when, right next to Mikey’s face, its arm ripped through the metal, groping blindly for him. A startled yell escaped, and he turned, holding up his gun, and firing non-stop into the hole, killing it after a few moments.

Gunshots were echoing off the narrow alley as they fought off the hoard, accented with shouts and snarls.

“Stay together!” Frank’s voice cut through the chaos at one point, before blowing away a nearby Infected.

A screech rang out from above, and a strangled yell from Brian caused Frank to whip around. Brian was suspended three or four feet off the ground by what looked like the tongue of the Infected above.

“Hang on!” Frank raised his shotgun, pumping it quickly, and firing, Brian dropping to the ground gasping raggedly. “You okay?” He asked as he helped his friend off the ground.

“Yeah…”

Two Infected came at them from behind, Frank looking up, pumping and firing into their faces, “Merry Christmas.” He growled in a way that suggested he was more annoyed than anything.

“Fire in the hole!” They here Gerard yell, a pipe bomb flying through the air away from them, the smoke and lights of it attracting the few remaining infected as the four of them dive behind a dumpster for cover, blowing them to nothing more than bits and pieces of decaying flesh.

Mikey stood, sighing, then twisted around looking puzzled, then started running toward the way they’d just come, the sound of chopper blades reaching them.

“Hey! We're over here! We're not infected! Down here!” But the helicopter just kept flying, oblivious to the four of them. “Damnit!”

He turned to face the rest of them, looking utterly defeated when something very fast and growling very loudly pounced onto him, tearing at his chest with its claws.

Gerard sprinted over, kicking the thing off, sending it staggering into the back of a car, before firing at it with his two pistols while Mikey drew his single one, finishing it off quickly. This would’ve been perfectly fine, usually, but when it landed, dead on the back of the car, the shrill blarring of the car’s alarm started.

“Oh, shit. This is gonna get bad.” Brian said, reloading quickly before the hoard that was running, screaming down the street ahead of them closed in too far.

“Run, or shoot? Run or shoot!?” Mikey asked, a slight panic in his voice as he backed away a few feet, as something utterly huge tore through the hoard toward them.

“Both!” Brian shouted back, and they took off running down the street in the opposite direction.

“The roof!” Gerard calls, pointing at a fire escape on the side of a building.

“Go, go, go!” Frank yelled back, stoping just short of it, turning to face the oncoming hoard, aiming for the gigantic thing heading straight at them.

“Come on, Come on…”

The massive infected threw one of the common out of its way, flinging in straight at Frank, who dodged, falling in the process. When he looked up, it was almost upon him, bringing up a fist to smash him into some sort of tiny Italian pancake.

Upon seeing this Brian dropped from the fire escape, firing straight into its face. “Go!”

It reared, enraged beyond belief now, throwing a fist at Brian, who dodged, losing his focus for a moment, the huge mutated zombie plunging its fist through the wall where he’d been. Then it did something unexpected. As it pulled back its arm, it took a piece of the broken wall with it, flinging the person sized hunk of concrete and plaster up at Frank and Mikey who were now scrambling up the fire escape.

Brian is trying to kill this thing as best he can, but it’s not working, it’s too strong, its muscles aren’t allowing the bullets to hit anything properly, or something, because it’s not working. All he can do is back away as he kept firing until his back was pressed against the wall right next to the fire escape, and there’s a choice; keep firing and distract this thing, and maybe kill it, and let everyone else escape, or risk going up the ladder, and it grabbing him on his way up.

Then he heard Gerard screaming from above, pistols blazing, “Come on! I’ll hold ‘im off!”

Brian was up that ladder faster than he would’ve thought possible, nodding to Gerard briefly as he skids to the second ladder to the roof.

Just as he breached the roof ledge, there was a sudden crash and screech of metal bending and threatening to break, and he looks down and sees Gerard scrambling desperately for the ladder as the floor began to give way underneath him, the thing’s weight as it tried to claw its way up to them tearing the entire escape down.

The bots all pop, and Gerard has no choice but to jump as the floor falls away beneath him, a desperate scream tearing from his mouth, arm outstretched, “Frankie!”

Frank grabs onto his wrist, teeth clenched, bracing himself on the lip of the building as he tries to pull Gerard up. Suddenly, Brian was there, reaching for Gerard’s other arm, and pulled him over the ledge, Frank and Gerard falling back into kind of a pile of panting, terrified, exhaustedness. Brian leaned back against the ledge, sighing.

“We did it. We made it!” Mikey smiled (almost), looking slightly pleased, if not roughed up around the edges.

Brian looked over at him with a level stare, “Kid, we just crossed the street. Don’t throw a party ‘til we’re out of the city.”

-x-

It's Cassiel!! :D

criminalsofwar — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 23:11:29 GMT

Yaay! :D Took maybe 3 or 4 hours ish, I really dont' keep track of time, nor do I do art all at the same time, lol.

(click to make bigger)

Cassiel is mine, please don't steal <3

Audience Of One

criminalsofwar — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 23:35:25 GMT

Title: Audience Of One (AKA: That prequel for You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins)
Author: the_mourning
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None (But if you squint reeeally hard, and look sidways, Gerard/Jack the Ripper)
Disclaimer: None of this has ever happened. (Even though it'd have been EPIC)
Summary: Nineteenth Century London, one Gerard Way just so happens to know Jack the Ripper.
Warnings: Blood, Violence, one of two swear words
Word Count: 657
Author's Note: I am well awear that this isn't historically acurate (and don't really care, honestly, it's fiction, artistic representation, whatever you want to call it.) Con/crit would be nice though :3
Oh, and like I mentioned, this is a prequel to You Don't Know A Thingn About My Sins, and you will have no idea what is going on without having read that.

Fangs ripped through flesh, uncompromising, unyielding, just tearing and shredding. Blood poured over his teeth, running down his face, his neck, staining the collar of his shirt, splattering down onto his boots. The torn, bloody body in from of him, pinned against the wall was now silent, vocal cords severed; the only sound they could create was a wheezing, gurgling gasp. Her face was blank with the numbness the pain coursing through her caused.

Within moments, she fell limp against him, nearly all the blood in her body covering the both of them. He let her fall to the dirty alley way floor at his feet. The man standing several feet away, clad in an ankle length black leather duster and top hat that covered most of his face in further shadow then the night, tutted.

“You never let me have any fun these days, Gerard.” The man’s voice carried a thick English accent, one that carried amusement, not anger or annoyance.

Gerard turned and looked at the man, looking considerably less deranged than he had moments ago, despite the face blood covered his face and clothes. “It’s not like you couldn’t just go find another whore, Jack. The city’s practically crawling with them.”

“True enough.” Jack shrugged, “Maybe I will.”

“The infamous Jack the Ripper strikes again!” Gerard mocked, throwing his hands in the air, laughing.

“Shhh! Someone’ll hear!” Jack was almost laughing, too, as he said this, peeling off his coat. “Here’ you need this more than I do.”

It was true, the entire front of Gerard’s white button down shirt, waist coat and pants were all stained with a deep crimson red. Jack was dressed similarly under his coat, offering it out to Gerard.

“Thanks.”

“Let’s get you home before someone notices.”

It was pitch black in the alleys they walked, near impossible to see, but the pair navigated through them like it was broad daylight.

Gerard hadn’t been in London long, but in the grand scheme of things, he hadn’t been anywhere long. He was still an outsider there, his American marred dialect, and lack of knowledge about trivial things gave him away. It’d been like that since he’d arrived there, and he was about to just go back when Jack had taken him in, in a sense, teaching him what he needed to know, inadvertently discovering what he was (and amazingly not caring all that much, to Gerard’s surprise), and giving him somewhere to release his pent up… frustrations, if you would, and how not to get caught doing it.

Within several minutes, the two of them were standing in from of Gerard’s small, shitty apartment building.

“Have a nice night, Gerard.”

“Same to you. Here’s your coat.” He’d started to undo the buttons holding it closed, concealing the bloodied clothing underneath.

“Keep it. I’ll collect it next time I see you.” Jack laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly before turning and fading into the night, away from the flickering light of the lantern above the door of the building.

Gerard watched him go for a moment, knowing he was going home; his knife was still in the pocket of the coat. He let himself into the building, moving slowly up the spiral staircase up to his room. He closed the door behind him, before peeling off the coat, and laying it on the table, placing the hat on top of it. Then, he turned to the fireplace set in the opposite wall, making his way over to it, and starting a small fire amidst the logs, going to bathe afterwards.

Once he had rid himself of the blood that had covered most of his body, he gathered the bloody clothes, throwing them into the flames, watching them disintegrate before his eyes, blackening and crumbling, pondering what his future might hold, hoping it was something better than mindless slaughter and slinking around hoping not to get caught.

Year Zero Comic and Synopsis, (kinda lol)

criminalsofwar — Wed, 09 Jun 2010 15:13:37 GMT

So, as like None of you know, I'm writing a comic (maybe?) with theamazingllama and this'd be one of the main characters named Gabriel. He's kind of the father figure almost, as the oldest (25) in a group of kids ranging from 15 to 18, with the exeption of another girl named Val who is 21.

If you guys don't know the whole story of Year Zero you should go here and read about it. It's intense, and amazing, and really fucking scary, mostly because it could (and probably will) happen.

For those of you who won't go look, and will just be confused, I'll try to explain breifly. it'll be shit, and I'll make it sound bad, but I'ma try.

Taking place in 2022, for some reason, church and state murge into one, creating a theocracy, and it's all insanity, as the government has suspended Habius Corpus, making quite alot of things illegal, and the state is running under a church known as The Church of Plano, saying that "whoever resists, resists God," which, in a theocracy is probably the worst thing you can do. The government also intriduces a fictional drug known as Paprin into the water, to "protect the public from future bioterrorist attacks" which have been happening more frequently, as a method to combat all disease, while there was no scientific evidence to support this claim, but instead is being used to suppress the population, keeping them in a apathetic carefree state. Discontinuing use of Paprin leads to clarity of thought the government insists if mere paranoia.

They arn't just druging people either. In order to drive, get married, have children ect. (all of which require licenses in the AU) one must be implanted with what is called a Nerochip,(mainly men and criminals) in order to track actions and wherabouts. The chips are also avalible in earings for women and celebrities who don't want the implants. People who resist this movment (and any and all movements brought about by the Administration) are known as Rebels and are charged with Treason, often disaprearing from their homes without a trace, or, if they openly rebel, are captured and executed.

There are different types of the Resisstance movements going on underground amidst the black markets, those who support Violent rebellion, and those who want to use peacefull means.

Meanwhile, whilst all of this is going on The Presence is showing up around the world. The Presence is represented as a ghostly arm reaching down from the sky. It was initially thought to be an Opal (a druge like cocain or haroine, a black luquid, typically injected into the eyes) or Parepin-related hallucination, but this was debunked by people who claim to have seen or been affected by The Presence, but who are not under the effects of Opal or Parepin. It has been suggested, however, that use of Opal or Parepin may intensify or increase the frequency of these encounters. People who have been affected by The Presence have described feelings of intense fear, insignificance, astonishment, and forgetfulness. Whether the Presence is government related or not is disputed. A key note to the information regarding the Presence is that there are pictures documenting the image of the presence. This lends credence to the theory that the Presence is a corporeal entity. There are thoughts that The Presence is literally the arm of God, reaching down almost in responce to the utter maddness going on down below.

Ooookay. So. That got kind of long, and intense,(and I could write an entire essay on this shit, you guys) but this is the worl that this comic takes place in, and is esencially the story of five kids trying to survive, staring the apocolypse right in the face.

Here's your art :D

So, like I said before, he's 25, and is kind of the unspoken leader of their small resistance group (who still doesn't have a name, and i'm starting to think it never will~) not much is known about his past, he doesn't talk about it. He's intensely skilled with all forms of fighting and weopnry, but his weel spot is being iverly concerned with keeping everyone safe, and not really letting anyone take unnessesary risks. He's blind in his right eye. :3

Master post! :D

criminalsofwar — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 19:36:53 GMT

You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins

Band(s):MCR
Pairing(s):Frank/Gerard
Word Count:~23K
Rating/Warnings: R; Exsessive blood/gore, swearing, homosexual relationships, minor character death
Summary: Gerard, converted demon, lives a life of anger, depair, and regret in a world where everything is falling apart. Including the people in it. Cities are crumbling, whole towns disappearing into the wilderness, monsters running rampant anywhere where people aren't. When people go missing, no one looks for them, because it's almost assured that they're dead. And Gerard's watched this happen, world turning aroung him, changing, while he stays the same, only growing more distant, more angry with himself, leaving him to let the demon take control and go on murderous rampages frequently.

Frank, in a family (if you could call it that) with only his mother and abusive step-father. The man had never touched Frank, no, he saved that for his mom, along with all the yelling and screaming and fighting. And Frank just can't take it anymore, but there's nothing he can do. People have got better things to worry about, and he can't run away, because he's positive if he tries, he won't make it more than a week, if even that long. But he's running out of options fast, and that's the only thing left for him. So he does, eventually being taken in by the ever awesome, ever caring Brian Schecter, where things get tense and uncomfortable for everyone.
AN: This fic is dedicated to several people that have helped me through the entire process of this. First, velvetnight1994 for holding my hand through the entire thing and encouraging and helping me when I just didn't know what to do anymore. Secondly, to kaleidocakes for beeing lovely and being an awesome beta (even if there was crazy amounts of procrastinatin going on...) and to anyone else I can't think of right now that has helped me along through this crazy first time. Thanks guys :)

Part One
Part Two
Part Three

Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content

Fanart:
Art
by theopteryx

Fanmix:
Of Flesh And Blood by dwg

Art and Mix

criminalsofwar — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 18:57:53 GMT

Bonus Tracks/Enhanced Content

Art by theopteryx

When I first found out who was doing art for me, my beta and I couldn't stop flailing around for a agood few days. There was alot of caps locked IM's and emails flying around, and even more when I actually got it, there was just craziness everywhere (and alot of of OMG I AM TAPING THIS TO MY BINDER). It's just amazing, and I can't really express how much in awe I am about how much I love this peice. :D

You can download the mix by dwg here in all it's wonderful glory. It's seriously amazing guys. I love it.

01. The Rezillos - Somebody's Gonna Get Their Head Kicked In Tonight
02. The Hives - Tick Tick Boom
03. AFI - The Missing Frame
04. Stabbing Westward - Save Yourself
05. Teargas & Plateglass - Book of Black Valentines
06. Error - Burn in Hell
07. Nine Inch Nails - The Wretched (Keith Hillebrandt Mix)
08. VAST - Skin Cage
09. ASHES dIVIDE - Sword (Danny Lohner Remix)
10. Mushroomhead - Nowhere To Go
11. Groove Addicts - The Beast At Our Door
12. Spinnerette - Impaler
13. Elastica - Human
14. Rob Zombie & Alice Cooper - Hands of Death (Burn Baby Burn)
15. Metric - Help, I'm Alive

Notes From the Mixer: Reading this fic was a visceral experience; it's fast, messy,
and angry, kinda like being in a mosh pit and having to fight to stand
one moment, and fighting to breathe the next, but at the end of the
night when everything hurts, your skin is still buzzing from the
energy of the songs and the crowd. On top of that, I am a huge sucker
for damnation and redemption themes, so it was a challenge to search
my music folders to try and reflect this. These songs are about going
to Hell, and falling in love along the way, and are best served loud.

(to be completely honest, that is just about my favourite thing anyone has ever said about anything I've ever done, puts a huge smile on my face.)

You Don't Know a Thing About My Sins Part Three

criminalsofwar — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 18:32:04 GMT

-x-

When Gerard came to, he felt something warm, smooth and soft slide across his forehead and side of his face. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt amazing against his cold skin and aching head. He pushed weakly toward the warmth, face pressing into something slightly scratchy, but warm.

He had to force himself to open his eyes, the seemed like they’d been closed forever, and didn’t want, didn’t know how to open anymore.

It was dark, he saw as soon as he could get his eyes open, and he was in a warm bed, a thick comforter wrapped around him. Then he actually took notice what his forehead was pressed against.

Frank was kind of sitting up, mostly laying down next to him in the bed, hand brushing Gerard’s hair out of his face, Gerard’s forehead pressed against the bandages wrapped around his side.

“Frankie...?” Gerard was totally confused, and didn’t know where they were, and just plain felt like shit. His voice was rough with disuse and sleep.

Not a moment later, Frank was mostly on top of him, arms around Gerard’s neck, “Oh my God, you’re okay.”

Gerard was stunned for a few moments before, carefully, he wrapped his arms around Frank’s back.

“I thought you died.” Gerard said quietly in Frank's ear, just now taking in the fact that Frank was not dead, but, in fact, seemed to be doing very well.

“I almost did,” Frank replied just as quietly, “Bob said I lost a lot of blood, but I should be okay if I rest awhile.”

“Who’s Bob?”

“Bob’s the guy who owns this place. He found us, and fixed up my side, since you didn’t have a mark on you.” Frank laughed, then sucked in a sharp breath, “Ow...”

Gerard had this incessant sinking feeling, “You didn’t tell him did you?”

“Of course not!” Frank had this comically offended look on his face.

Gerard laughed and nudged Frank off of him so he could sit up, head swimming suddenly.

“Fuck,” he leaned sideways against the cool, smooth wall, relishing in the feel of it against his bare side.

“Are you alright?” Frank was sitting now too, looking worried. Gerard noticed for the first time, the little swallows on his hips, half covered by the bandage. He wanted almost desperately to see them whole.

“I dunno, this hasn’t happened before,” Gerard tore his eyes away, closing them instead. He could only vaguely remember what had happened before he’d passed out, only remember the pain, and the overwhelming, explosive rage. “How long was I out?”

“Two and a half days. I was out for almost a whole day from the blood loss.”

Gerard nodded, in acceptance or just acknowledgement, he didn’t know.

“Hungry?” Frank asked a minute later.

“You don’t even know.” Gerard agreed, climbing out of the bed after Frank, looking for a shirt that didn’t have blood all over it, to no avail.

“Oh, here.” Frank was holding two clean shirts in his hands, both looking too big for Gerard, much less Frank. “Bob said we can use these until he can get ours done.”

He pulled on one of the shirts, just a plain white one, and noticed he was still wearing his filthy, torn, bloodstained jeans, and deciding he didn’t care.

They moved kind of slowly down the hall, because at first, Gerard was seriously going to throw up, due to the severe vertigo he had going on. Which was weird, because stuff like that hadn’t happened to him in forever, like the last two hundred some years, forever.

In the kitchen, even though it was almost four in the morning, a tall, big blonde dude was standing with this back to them, making coffee by the smell of it.

“Hey, Bob. Gerard’s awake.”

The man who Gerard had to assume was Bob turned around, looking Gerard over, apparently looking for something wrong with him, “And you’re alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” Gerard wasn’t one for showing when he wasn’t feeling up to par. That, often, got you killed.

Bob nodded, “Want some coffee and something to eat?”

“Sure,” Both Frank and Gerard answered at the same time.

A while later, the three of them were seated in the next room, a well furnished living space. This was by far the nicest house that Gerard had been inside in a long while.

“So, I am curious,” Bob started, “What happened to you guys?”

“Monsters,” Frank answered, smoothly. Gerard only nodded.

“And how come Frank was totally covered in gashes, while you didn’t have a scratch on you, but your clothes are all ripped up and covered in your own blood?” The question was obviously directed at Gerard.

Gerard felt himself tense, feeling, suddenly, very backed into a corner, his grip on the mug in his hands tightening, mind racing for a story. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank glance once or twice before focusing back on Bob.

“He’s just that good with a blade, I guess.” Frank said when it was kind of obvious between the two of them that Gerard had nothing to really say.

Bob shot them a sceptical look, single brow raised, “I’ll give the two of you a minute to come up with a better story while I start this fire.”

He stood, and moved toward the fire place, going through the steps of starting a fire. Frank, suddenly, sucked in a sharp breath.

“What?” Gerard asked quietly.

“He didn’t use anything to start that fire.” Frank whispered back, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and surprise.

Gerard’s eyebrows knitted together, but before he could say anything, Bob was back, sitting in the arm chair across from them.

“You have pyrokinesis, don’t you?” Frank's tone was insistent, curious.

“So do you.”

Gerard was pretty puzzled again, and so was Frank by the look on his face.

“You were pretty upset with me while I was trying to stitch you up.” Bob explained, looking more amused than anything.

“Oh.” Frank looked sheepish, “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing. You’re only just developing it, yes?”

Frank nodded.

“So, I still don’t know what’s up with you.” He gestured vaguely at Gerard.

Gerard was uncomfortable again, glancing over at Frank, who just nudged him with an elbow, encouraging him.

“I... I’m a half demon, basically.”

Bob looked surprised, “I wasn’t expecting that one, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well, that’s me.”

“Born that way?”

“No, voluntary possession, essentially. It’s complicated, or at least it was at the time.”

Just after Bob nodded, Gerard’s head throbbed again, making him wince and grit his teeth.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Gerard sighed, holding his head with one hand, “I’m gonna go back to bed.”

He felt Frank's eyes on him, but he didn’t say anything as Gerard walked back into the spare bedroom, falling back into bed after changing out of his jeans and into some sweat pants. Sleep over came him quickly, dragging him down into its inky black, smothering depths.

-x-

By the next afternoon Frank had skilfully persuaded Bob (“Pleeeease? Bob, come on, please? It’s not like you’ve got much else to do!” all day long) to show him how to keep himself from starting things on fire whenever he was angry.

Normally, Gerard wouldn’t found Frank following Bob around all day hilarious, but he was still feeling drained and lifeless.

The three of them were all outside in the warm sun, Gerard leaning back against the side of the house, watching Bob try to teach Frank how to control the fire with his hands without lighting himself on fire. He was starting to make progress, but the flame either kept dissipating or he lost concentration and lost control. Then he’d insist on trying again, forehead scrunched up, a focused look on his face.

By then end of the day, Frank was thoroughly frustrated with himself, flopping back on the couch next to Gerard.

“Rough day?” Gerard chuckled.

“Fuck you.” Frank sighed, then slumped against him, head landing on Gerard’s shoulder.

“That bad, huh?”

Frank nodded, drawing his knees to his chest.

Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank, who moved closer, head on Gerard’s chest, knees drooping into his lap, in some sort of lopsided hug.

“At least you have someone to show you what you’re doing. Bob seems like a good teacher.”

“He is, it’s just...” Frank sighed, fiddling with a fold in Gerard’s shirt, “It’s just I can’t seem to get it right.”

“Frank,” Gerard tilted Frank's head up, to look at him with two fingers, to look him in the eye. “Frankie, you’re more than capable of doing it. You’ve only just started, give it some time, I’m sure you’ll get it. I’m positive.”

Frank just stared back at him for a while. Next thing Gerard knew, Frank's hands where flat on his chest, their lips pressed together.

Gerard was actually more than a little surprised by this, sure, he’d thought about it once or twice, but it was something he couldn’t have. He was a demon, condemned to hell, and he wasn’t going to do that to Frank too.

“Frankie.” Gerard broke the kiss, Frank's breath still hot on his lips, Gerard’s palms cupping his face, “Frankie, I... I can’t. I just, can’t.”

He heard Frank's breath hitch and his body tense, then he was quickly untangling himself from Gerard, a look of pure dejection on his face that shattered Gerard’s heart. Frank got up, arms wrapped tightly around his gut like Gerard had physically punched him or something, and moved to leave.

“Frank.”

Frank didn’t reply.

“Frankie, wait.”

“No, I see how it is.” Frank's voice broke a tiny bit, and then he was out the door, into the darkening landscape, letting the door slam behind him, leaving Gerard standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the door like the complete idiot he’d made himself into.

“What happened? I heard the door slam.” Bob was standing in the entry was into the hallway.

“Frank left.” And it’s my fault.

“Why?” He asked, and when Gerard didn’t answer, he added, “This is something way out on my hands, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it kind of is.” Gerard sighed, internally kicking the shit out of himself. “I’m gonna go find him.”

“Gerard?” He turned where he had his hand on the door knob. Bob had something in his eyes Gerard couldn’t really make out. “He really likes you, and you’re a good friend to him. Try not to screw it up.”

Gerard felt like something died inside him, and looked Bob straight in the eye before nodding, and turning, and opened the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

It was getting dark fast, so he knew he’d have to find Frank soon, but didn’t have a clue where he’d be.

After half an hour or so, when he was walking past a small clump of small tall trees, he heard, just barely, a small sniffle. Looking up, he could only just see the outline of a small form huddled on a thick branch maybe five or six feet above his head.

A minute later, he was up in the tree on a branch just below Frank's, where he jumped catching hold of the limb Frank was on pulling himself up on to it.

“Go ‘way.” Frank's voice was quiet, and only a tad uneven. Gerard wouldn’t have even known he’d been crying if his voice hadn’t been all shuddery and irregular like it was, his arms still wrapped tightly around his middle, knees drawn close to his chest.

“Frankie, I’m not going anywhere.” Gerard was quiet too, looking at Frank who refused to look back at him.

“Why’re you even here. It’s not like you care about me anyway.”

“I do, Frank, I do care about you. That’s why I – we – can’t. I’m a demon, and when I finally do die, I’m going to hell, there’s nothing any of us can do about it, and I don’t want to drag you down with me.” Gerard really just wanted him to understand that he did care, he just couldn’t live with himself if he caused that to happen.

“Gerard, do you not get it?” Frank's voice was strained, almost angry, “I don’t care about that.”

Gerard opened his mouth, then shut it again. He had no idea what to say to that.

Frank continued in his silence, “If I cared that you were a demon, I wouldn’t have come with you in the first place. I’d probably be back with Brian, and the police would be after you.” He paused, sucking in a shuddery breath. “And the reason you did this in the first place was to save someone’s life, and you’ve saved mine twice. I refuse to believe that you’re going to hell for trying to save lives. I can’t do it.”

Frank was looking at him now, and Gerard could tell, even through the half-light that his eyes were red and puffy.

Gerard honestly had never thought about it like that. It made him want to believe Frank, he really did. And he was going to try. Going to give this a chance, if Frank would let him.

He slid closer to Frank, holding out an arm. After several long moments, Frank shifted stiffly, moving under Gerard’s arm, against his side, breath shuddery again.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry.” Gerard said softly, wrapping one arm around Frank's waist, the other smoothing his hair, rocking back and forth slowly, “No need for that. Shh.”

After a few long minutes, Frank seemed to be okay, or, more okay than before.

“M’sorry,” Gerard murmured in Frank's hair, both arms around him now, dangling legs knocking into each other.

“S’okay.” Frank's voice was unsteady, but better than it had been.

Gerard pressed a light kiss to the top of Frank's head, “C’mon.”

Detangling himself, he stood, balancing easily, pulled Frank onto his back, and jumped. He landed a little unevenly, but caught himself, and moved toward the bright lights of the house.

By the time they got back to the house, Frank was mostly asleep, face buried between Gerard’s neck, and his arms that were loosely wrapped around it. Gerard had a bit of a difficult time opening the door, as he didn’t want to drop one of Frank's legs, but he managed.

Bob was sitting at the kitchen table, like he’d been waiting for them to come back.

“He’s okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” He hoped Frank wasn’t upset anymore. Frank murmured something inaudible, and pressed his face into Gerard’s neck. “I’m gonna turn in too. ‘Night.”

“Good night.”

He carried Frank into their bedroom, and set him gently on the mattress, before bending to untie both of their shoes, and find sweat pants for himself. Frank was still wearing his from that morning; he hadn’t bothered to change, so Gerard just crawled into bed behind him and curled around him, falling asleep almost instantly.

When he woke up the next morning, Frank was already awake, playing with a flap of the sheet idly, Gerard’s arm draped over his side.

The elder stretched, causing Frank to turn about half way to look at him.

“About time, lazy ass.” Frank greeted, twisting around fully, to face Gerard.

“Good morning to you too.” Gerard laughed, “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.” Frank's voice was quieter now. “If you’re over the whole ‘but you’ll go to hell’ deal, that is.”

“I suppose I’ll let that go.”

“Then I’m good.” A small smile broke on Frank's face that Gerard just had to lean forward and kiss, just because he could.

They pulled apart a few minutes later, when Bob’s voice came muffled through the door, “If you two aren’t up in the next ten minutes, you aren’t getting breakfast.”

“Okay, okay, we’re coming.” Gerard called back, Frank's nose still touching his.

“So I suppose this means we actually have to get up, huh?” Frank asked, kind of rhetorically.

Gerard nodded, throwing the covers back, uncovering the both of them, pulling Frank after him the hand.

An hour later, Frank, Bob, and Gerard were all outside in the warming late morning air. Frank was still practicing, but he was getting better faster than Gerard would’ve thought possible. After awhile, Gerard rolled onto his back in the grass, letting the sun hit the skin of his bare arms and where his shirt had ridden up, revealing a narrow strip of pale white flesh underneath. From where he was laying now, he could actually see Frank's face, even though it was upside down, because he’d been looking down at his hands for the last... well, what seemed like forever.

“I’m getting really tired of doing this.” Frank mumbled, looking up for Bob, face cracking into a wide grin, which he tried to hide, failing miserably. “You are aware that looks really ridiculous, right?”

Gerard turned his head, seeing Bob, who had apparently got up, and gone inside without either of them noticing, and came back, and was now hanging up laundry nearby.

“Do you want wet clothes?” Bob’s voice sounded kind of far off, because he was facing away from them.

“It still looks funny, does it not?” Frank was looking down at Gerard, still smiling.

“It does.” Gerard half whispered as if he didn’t want Bob to hear.

Frank just laughed, before sitting next to Gerard, “Okay, so I think I’ve almost got this...”

Gerard nudged Frank’s thigh with his forehead, because it was the closest thing to him, “You can do it, that’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Frank looked at him from the corner of his eye, trying to hide a smile, and concentrating on the small flame that was gathering in his palm. Gerard watched as he worked the flame, threading it through his fingers, a look in his eyes. That was the best he’d done all day, the best he had done was just starting to wind the fire between his fingers, and then it would disappear. But this time it didn’t look like it was going to. After Frank was sure he had it, he threw his arms into the air, “Yes!”

“I told you!” Gerard was smiling, wrapping his arms around Frank's stomach in a backwards hug, pulling him back onto the ground with him, laughing, Frank's head landing on his stomach.

Within a few moments, Bob was over by them, one of Frank's tee shirts in his hands, “You can get it to do what you want it to, without burning yourself?”

“Yeah! See?” Frank held up a hand, small flame hovering over the tip of his index finger, before winding its way down and around the rest of them.

“Good job.” Bob had a small smile on his face, “Now you can start trying to form it into actual shapes if you want.”

“Sweet.” Frank's smile grew.

“Well, I’m gonna finish hanging these up, and then head into town alright? We’re getting low on food.”

“Okay.” Gerard said looking up at him, smiling a little.

Bob turned, going back to the laundry, hanging up the last few pieces, before climbing into his old looking car.

“Behave.” He called to them, before the car was rumbling down the gravel road.

Gerard sighed contentedly then, closing his eyes, and draped an arm over Frank's chest, just laying there in the grass, letting the sun warm his skin. Frank shifted under his arm, sometime later, rolling onto his side, curling into a ball.

Gerard lifted his head, cracking his eyes open, to see that Frank was asleep, long black fringe covering most of his face. He lifted his other hand to brush it back, thinking maybe he should bring him inside. He pulled Frank towards him a little more, and scooped him up into his arms, trying not to wake him in the process.

The walk to the house was a short one, Frank's face half buried into Gerard’s chest, breathing deep and even. And he felt content, perfectly happy with the way things were going for the first time, in what had to be almost his entire life. He was happy, he had a decent place to stay – though he knew it wouldn’t be permanently, most likely – and, most importantly, he had Frank.

Once he reached the house, he opened the screen door of the front porch, and walked to their shared room, to put Frank in an actual bed. But before he could set him down gently, a slitting, mind numbing pain was shooting through his head. His head that had to have been fucking exploding or something, and all he could smell was a thick acrid smell of heat and sand and decay. His vision had gone black and all he could hear was a strong wind, the same wind he could smell.

They there was a voice. A deep, earth shatteringly deep, rumbling voice that made the throbbing increase with each syllable.

“Boy, you’ve lived this life long enough, and are no longer deserving of my powers. In the next sunrise, you will cease to exist in this world.”

“NO!” Gerard cried through the pain that was immobilizing him. He knew this wouldn’t last. He knew it. Things were just too perfect for him, and now they were all coming to a train wreck of an end.

“I’ll see you in hell, boy.”

With a final burst of unimaginable pain, forcing a shuddering cry from Gerard’s lips, it was all gone.

“Gerard!” He could hear Frank's voice nearby, his hands on his shoulders, “Gerard, what’s happening?”

Gerard pulled his hands away from his head, the tips blood stained from where he’d been digging his fingers into his scalp in an attempt to stop the pain with a shuddering breath.

“He’s,” He swallowed thickly, “He’s coming. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Who’s coming?” Frank asked urgently, “Gerard, who is coming?”

“The demon whose powers I have. He wants them back. Tomorrow I’m gonna die, Frank.” He looked up at Frank then, composure breaking on the last sentence, looking utterly broken and defeated, terrified.

Frank pulled Gerard to him, getting down on his knees next to him on the floor, “No. There is no way you’re dying tomorrow. You can’t just give up now. Fight it. We can fight it together. You can beat this thing.”

“No, I’ve tried. It’s just not possible. And it’s not like I can get rid of them before tomorrow, because Shannon’s dead, and she was part of the deal.” Gerard shifted, forehead pressed against Frank's collar bone, “And I deserve it anyway. I let it kill Mikey. Now it’s my turn.”

“No!” Frank was exasperated, as was his tone, lifting Gerard’s head off his chest to look him in the face. “Gerard, how many times do I have to tell you this? It wasn’t your fault, and you’re not going to die. You’re Gerard; you find ways to beat things. You’re better than this. We can beat this.”

They just stared at each other for a long while, one totally broken, the other desperate for understanding.

“Either way, we’ve got to get out of here before tomorrow morning. Bob doesn’t need to be part of this. I don’t want him to get hurt unnecessarily.” Gerard said quietly after a few minutes of silence.

Frank nodded, letting go of Gerard to stand, and going to the corner of the room, retrieving the still blood-stained blades. “Gonna need these, I think.”

Ten minutes later, Gerard had written a brief note explaining the situation vaguely to Bob, so he wouldn’t think the just ran out on him, and come looking for them, and that they were sorry.

“What are we sorry for?” Frank asked, confused.

“How else do you think we’re going to get far enough away from here by sun up?” Gerard lead the way to the small garage, and their eyes fell upon a motorcycle that looked aged, but well taken care of.

“We’re stealing his bike?”

“Frank...”

“Um, sorry, let’s just do this.”

Gerard started the bike with a key he’d found, Frank climbing on right behind him, and kicked the bike into life, roaring down the long narrow gravel driveway.

The bike had a full tank of gas, so the rode the rest of the day, stopping when the machine choked out, the fuel gone, night falling.

They moved off the road, into the field that they’d stalled out next to, that had a single tree growing some ways way. Frank had a weird feeling about the place. It seemed really familiar, but he couldn’t place it, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He had to focus on keeping Gerard together. He’d gone quiet and tense, emotionless.

Frank started a small fire when they stopped under the tree, curling into each other for warmth.

“Gerard, it’ll be okay.” Frank nudged him with his knee, where he was sitting cross legged next to him. Gerard just shrugged, but stayed silent.

Gerard sighed, staring into the fire, “What if I die, and there’s just nothing? No Heaven, no Hell, just nothing. I’m just... gone. I think that’d be worse than going to Hell.”

“It doesn’t matter, because you aren’t going to die. Try and get some sleep. You’ll probably need it, okay?” Frank's voice was quiet, but insistent. Gerard nodded, shifting around, like he was going to lay down maybe, but then looked up at Frank once more. Then he was in Frank's face, mouth over his, pushing him back, onto the ground.

Their mouths parted when Frank fell back, eyes closed, pulling Gerard with him, chests pressed together, Frank's thighs on either side of Gerard’s waist.

Gerard just had to look for a second to just look at Frank, the way his head was tilted back slightly, eyes still closed, breath a little erratic. He could feel Frank's heartbeat against his chest. Then their foreheads were pressed together, Gerard closing his eyes.

“Frankie...”

“Gerard, no. Just...” Frank pushed himself up, closing the minuscule gap between them, silencing Gerard, and whatever he was going to say.

Then there was a long silence between the two, punctuated only with muffled moans, and gasping breaths.

Frank broke away when Gerard’s hands slid underneath the hem of his shirt, head dropping back, exposing the soft skin of his neck, a low moan leaving his mouth. He ducked his head down, biting on the side of Frank's neck, hard enough to leave marks, then kissing them gently, moving up his neck slowly, until the was at the corner of Frank's lips. He could feel Frank's fingers digging in to the back of one shoulder, the tips of all five fingers of the other hand were pressing harshly into the back of his neck.

“Frankie,” Gerard sighed again, for a different reason this time, “Frankie, I think, maybe, I love you.”

Frank opened his eyes at that, just looking back into Gerard’s eyes before pressing a kiss back onto his lips. “I think maybe I love you too.”

-x-

Frank was up almost all night long, dozing only a few minutes after Gerard fell asleep in his chest, watching and waiting.

Just as the sun showed its first rays over the horizon, a shudder ran through the ground underneath them.

“Gerard.”Frank shook his shoulder urgently, “Gee, you need to wake up.”

“Mmm...?” Gerard stirred slightly, and when a second shudder came, he was suddenly more awake.

“He’s not here is he?”

“No not yet.” Frank said, then stopped, spotting a small figure emerging from the trees across the field, almost two hundred yards away, “Wait, who’s that?”

“Where?” Gerard turned, unwinding himself from Frank, and squinting in the direction that he pointed out to him. “I – no. No, he couldn’t have.”

Gerard’s eye’s were wide, and scared, like he didn’t know what to do.

“What – “

“Frank, he’s resurrected my brother and fucking possessed him to fight me.” His expression was somewhere between horrified and totally pissed. “He knows I can’t do it. Frank, I can’t hurt Mikey.”

“That’s not Mikey anymore, and you know it. You’ve gotta get passed the face, and realize that it’s the same thing you’ve fought before, and you can do it again.”

“But I – “

“It’s not him. It’s that bastard in his body, because he thinks you can’t fight against him like that.” Frank cupped Gerard’s face with a hand, “But you’ve gotta. And you can, if you accept that that’s not Mikey anymore.”

He nodded. He’d have to try, otherwise he’d be dead, (well, okay, maybe two months ago, he’d wanted to be dead but...) and that was no good to anyone, especially Frank, because Frank believed that he could do this. He had to try now.

Gerard stood, hands clenched into tight fists, eyes never leaving the very slowly advancing figure. He looked more determined and angry than anything now.

“Just... Don’t hurt him if you don’t have too.”

Frank looked up at Gerard for a moment, then nodded even though he couldn’t see him, and stood up, retrieving their weapons. “Okay,” he paused, holding Gerard’s out toward him, “here.”

“Thanks.” He took it, dropping the sheath to the ground at this feet, still staring out over the field where two black shaped where slinking though the long grass one either side of Mikey, almost half way across the field now. “You take the wolves. I’ll try to do something with him.”

The younger nodded, readjusting his grip on his sword, nervous and worried. “Let’s just do this.”

They started forward, toward Gerard’s long dead brother, his shoulders tense, knuckles white with his tight grip. Frank walked a little closer to him, letting their arms brush, trying to offer whatever comfort he could, when he didn’t know what was going to happen either.

The wolves where advancing rather quickly now.

“You can go, I’ve got this.” Frank nudged him with an elbow, urging him to just go and take care of this and get it over with.

Gerard looked at him for a moment, before cupping Frank's cheek, “Be careful.”

Then he was gone, running off somewhere Frank didn’t have time to notice because the wolves were almost upon him.

The closest leaped at him first, fanged jaws gaping, eyes wild. He slashed at its throat, slitting it, the beast falling to the ground in a writhing mess.

The second was obviously smarter, circling around slowly, waiting for Frank to leave it an opening, mostly hidden in the grass that was almost up to Frank's waist.

He started backing toward the noise he could hear of Gerard and Mikey fighting, not daring to turn and look. A hundred feet later, his foot caught and he fell back, sword slipping out of his grasp when he tried to catch himself from falling.

Fuck.

The wolf made its move, pouncing, going for Frank's throat. He stopped it by its neck, holding it back, barely, snapping muzzle only inches from his face, its claws tearing apart his tee shirt, digging into his chest and arms. Fire started around his hands, the wolf yelping in surprise and pain, almost like it wasn’t sure what was happening to it. Its blood started to drip, then flow over Frank's hands, he pushed the animal’s body off of him, standing unsteadily, covered in both his and the animals blood, shirt hanging in shreds around him.

He had to find his sword and help Gerard. When he looked up, Mikey was standing five feet away, eyes blank, dead and cataracted, dressed in clothes centuries old, torn and falling apart with age. Mikey bent down and picked up the sword at his feet, the blank expression on his face, making it all the more terrifying.

He swung the blade with practiced ease, barely leaving Frank enough time to duck away.

A growl come from somewhere next to him and Gerard flew out of nowhere, knocking Mikey over without, what seemed like, a second thought about it. When Frank stood, a strip of his shirt caught under his foot, tearing his shirt right off of him, exposing the torn, bloodied bandages underneath. Frank didn’t know what Gerard was trying to do, but it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t working well. When Mikey even touched him with the white metal, Gerard flinched, small burns forming where ever it touched, and even small cuts from it weren’t healing when made by that blade. Frank knew he had to do something, or Gerard wouldn’t make it out of this alive.

He found Gerard’s sword a few feet away where he’d leaped from. It felt strange in his hands, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was stopping the demon that had possessed Mikey.

Frank tried to run toward them, it was hard, but he got there, throwing himself into Mikey, knocking him off balance, tossing Gerard’s sword at him, even though, by this point he didn’t really need it, he was using the demon’s own power against him, however well that was going to work.

Before Frank could fully get out of the way, Mikey had his balance back and was going for Frank, the obviously easier kill of the two.

There was no where Frank could go fast enough to avoid being hit. This was it. This was the end.

He hoped Gerard would be okay without him.

Frank braced himself for the inevitable impact, the blinding pain; death. The impact came, but no pain.

Instead, he was being bowled over landing on the ground, staring up into Gerard’s face, inches from his own. By the time they had landed, there was no red in Gerard’s eyes, no fangs, no claws, no horns, just Gerard, shock and pain, pure undiluted pain on his face, blood dripping from between his gaping lips, a few drops falling onto Frank's cheek.

The tip of a sword protruded from Gerard’s stomach, less than an inch from his own.

It wasn’t until the blade was ripped out again, that everything changed.

Gerard’s eyes went kind of blank for a split second, before clenching shut, doubling over himself, entire body convulsing in agony.

Mikey stood above them, twitching a few times, raising the sword again, as if to strike again, before collapsing lifeless to the ground.

A moment later, a huge dragon-like hulking thing with massive horns and claws, reared over them to attack. Frank did the only thing he could think of to do, attempting the impossible. He raised the hand that wasn’t pinned down by Gerard’s body, an equally massive wall of fire sputtered into existence, separating them. Frank couldn’t see it, but a high keening, ear-splitting screech filled his ears before what sounded like an explosion, and he dropped his hand, all traces of the mobster that had been, gone.

Meanwhile, Gerard felt like he was being assaulted with the pain of every injury he’s sustained in the past two hundred years of his life at the same time. His teeth felt like they were going to shatter from being clenched together so hard. Every bone in his body felt like it was breaking again, while a single phrase, his own echoing voice, ran through his head. ...Until I save the one I love...

With all the strength his could muster, he forced his eyes open, reaching up with a trembling, bloody hand, cupping Frank's cheek. Frank was crouched over him now, tears running down his face.

“It’s okay.” Gerard’s voice was tight and strained, “He doesn’t have me anymo – “ whatever Gerard was going to say after that was cut off by a fresh wave of pain, before his body dragged him into unconsciousness.

-x-

He woke what seemed like forever later, a quiet beeping reaching his ears, something warm and solid against his side. Whatever they had him on was amazing, he decided, because he couldn’t feel any actually pain, just an annoying ache in his stomach.

He opened his eyes to see what would be a white room, if not for the dark, spare the dim light coming from somewhere, just enough to see by. Frank was curled into his side, apparently abandoning the cot on the other side of the room.

Gerard sighed, lifting a hand – oh god, an IV, fucking needles – and ran his fingers through Frank's hair. The younger made a small noise, snuggling in even closer, knees bumping into Gerard’s thigh. In the half light, he could see the raised, slightly pink of the scar on Frank's side, where the stitches once were where his shirt was ridding up.

Gerard tried to bring his other arm over his body to maybe actually hold Frank, but that annoying ache turned into a sudden stab of pain. A soft hiss slid between his teeth as he dropped his left arm back onto the bed.

“Mmm...?” Frank stirred, lifting his head and blinking blearily.

“Hey.”

“You’re awake!” Frank was suddenly more awake, moving around and wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck.

“Yep. And human.” He brought his right arm up around Frank's back, hand resting on the back of his neck.

“Really?” Frank pulled back, sitting up next to him, “’s that why you didn’t heal when...?”

“Yeah. When I saved you, I ended my contract.”

“Now you’re just like the rest of us.”

Gerard nodded smiling. The whole concept of being human was just so foreign to him, it was unreal.

“I’m gonna call Bob and tell him you’re alright.” Frank smiled back, “Maybe we can get you out of here tomorrow.”

“How’s Bob know we’re here?” Gerard’s brows knitted together, obviously confused.

“He drove all night when he saw the note, and that the bike was gone, found us just after you got run through.”

“M’kay. You go call Bob.” Gerard said, a strange feeling washing over him, whatever they had him on was also making him really tired. “Just come back.”

“Of course.”

Gerard dozed off while Frank was gone, the quiet murmur of his voice along with the quiet steady beeping filled his ears.

When Frank came back, Gerard forced himself awake enough to make Frank move, and pull back the stiff hospital sheets, allowing Frank to crawl in with him.

“Is it bad that I’m really, really excited to get old?”

“Not really, considering you’re like two hundred and fifty, and not old.” Frank laughed quietly.

“I don’t like this waiting to heal business, though.” Gerard stated a few moments later, seemingly quite randomly.

“I think the morphine’s making you kinda wonky, Gee. Just go to sleep. We can talk about your dislike for a normal rate of healing in the morning... Or whenever, because I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’d be sad if you did.” Gerard mumbled, turning his head toward Frank, letting it fall, forehead hitting Frank's collar bone. One of Frank's hands buried it’s self in Gerard’s hair, the other curling around the back of his neck.

“G’night, Gee.”

“Night, Frankie.” Gerard’s eyes were closed. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pressed his lips to Gerard’s dark hair as the older drifted off quickly, resting comfortably in Frank's arms.

Bonus Content

You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins Part Two

criminalsofwar — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 18:30:56 GMT

Even though it was midday, the alley ways were still cast in an almost eerie twilight. Frank wandered for what seemed like hours trying to build up the nerve to actually do what he had planned; his hand aching from being clenched around that knife the whole while. As he was walking, he passed the back doors of several bars, one of which had a rather burly looking, stereotypical biker dude standing outside leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

Frank passed him quietly without looking at him, and just wanted to go, he didn’t like the feeling he got being around there.

When he was maybe a few feet passed the guy, half of a cigarette was flung in front of him, and Frank inevitably stepped on it.

“Kid, did you just really step on my cig?”

Frank just ignored him and kept walking.

“Boy, I’m talking to you. Don’t you walk away from me.”

The deep, rough smoker’s voice was getting closer and Frank wanted to run, he really really did. Before he could a hand caught the hood of his hoodie, and he was whipped into the wall next to a rusting Dumpster, leaking garbage.

“I said I was talking to you didn’t I?” His breath smelled like booze and cigarettes, his eyes, bloodshot and angry. “I asked if you stepped on my fucking cig.”

Frank just met his stare, steady and emotionless. It didn’t’ really matter what happened to him anymore anyway, did it?

“You threw your ‘fucking cig’ in front of me, asshole.”

“You givin’ me lip, boy?”

“Maybe I am.”

Frank could tell what he was going to do before he did it, predicting the wide, exaggerated motions he was making; indicating that this guy was going for his face, and for blood.

Frank ducked before the fist could come in contact with his face, the fist instead coming in full-force contact with the brick wall where he’d been moments before.

The guy let loose a string of profanities, before glaring at Frank, and Frank pushed himself up as fast as he could, and bolted down the alley. Maybe fifty feet down the way, Frank's foot hit a puddle of some oily liquid wrong, and his feet where out from under him in a moment.

Frank was pretty scared now as he fell; trying to catch himself on something, anything, but there was nothing that was close enough for him to grab at, and he fell heavily on his side, scraping his palms against the filthy asphalt. Frank scrabbled up, but in his haste, only slipped again.

He could hear the man gaining on him, and fuck, if he would have just stayed at home, or gone a different way or...

A sharp thump cut off his panicked thoughts. Frank couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu, and he remembered the night with the blood covered kid he’d seen a few nights ago, and flipped himself over into a sitting position, and was in shock at what he saw.

He turned just in time to see Gerard land his jump from somewhere, he didn’t know, it didn’t matter, and shoulder the guy into the wall with a menacing scowl, and an even fiercer growl coming from deep in his chest, diverting his attention from Frank.

“Frank, get out of here now. Go home.” Gerard’s voice was strangely flat for the look on his face.

Frank was too shocked to really take in what Gerard had said.

Gerard was too busy squaring off against this guy to really pay attention to whether Frank had left or not. The dude looked absolutely furious at Gerard, and Gerard just snarled at him, looking like he was waiting for him to make the first move, which happened. The guy took another over obvious swing at Gerard, who easily ducked, and lunged forward, wrapping a hand around the guy’s thick neck, effectively pinning him against the wall. Frank could’ve sworn that Gerard had claws.

The man wasn’t giving in to some skinny teenager that easily though, he had a punch landed squarely in Gerard’s stomach not a moment later, which made him lose his grip on his neck (but to Gerard’s credit, and from what Frank could see, it looked like it had been on purpose). Gerard only looked angrier now, and Frank could see what looked like a shiver go through him, and if Frank would’ve blinked he would’ve missed the punch that Gerard threw at the guy’s face, effectively knocking him off balance for the moment.

Then Frank remembered the knife in his pocket.

“Gerard!” Frank shouted, digging out the red plastic coated knife.

Gerard only spared him a glance, and by the time Frank looked up again, he only saw a flash of his eyes. Bloody red eyes.

Frank didn’t have time to think about things he may or may not have been seeing, “Here!” Frank threw the knife, which Gerard caught without really looking, flipping out the biggest knife all the while avoiding off kilter punches and kicks.

Frank hurried to his feet, to both get out of the way and help if he needed to, although he wasn’t really all that sure what he could’ve done anyway. By the time he was up, Gerard was standing still, right arm covered in blood, dripping from the point of the knife, the man lying lifeless at his feet, blood pooling around his slit throat.

“You... you killed him.”

“He was going to kill you. And what the hell else to you expect me to do with a fucking knife?”

Gerard was standing awkwardly, only half facing Frank, hair falling over his eyes, wiping his bare arm off on a discarded scrap of clothing hanging out of the dumpster.

Frank still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d just witnessed a murder. He neither of them said anything for a long while.

“But you—“

“Frank! Can you not wrap your mind around that fact that he was going to kill you?!” Gerard was full on looking at Frank now, mouth open in an angry grimace. All Frank could do was stare; which was probably a bad thing. He had been right, Gerard’s eyes were a deep scarlet, long fangs erupting from his mouth, bloodstained clawed hands clenched tightly into fists.

“What... What are you?” Frank knew he wasn’t as scared as he should be, because, really, he felt no danger at all.

“Says the kid who starts shit on fire with their mind.”

Frank didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Come on, you’ve got to get home before Brian has a total hissy fit, and I’ve got to get my shit out of there.”

Frank nodded, and took a few steps forward, somehow managing to slip in the exact same puddle as earlier, but this time, Gerard managed to catch him before he fell.

Gerard laughed, “Do I have to do everything for you?”

-x-

It was in that moment that Gerard had make the decision to save Frank that he had decided that he didn’t hate him; the fact that someone else with a similar problem to his own and could possibly feel empathy toward him was what scared him.

But now that wasn’t a problem for anyone, because he wasn’t ever going to see Frank again, because he’d gotten kicked out of Brian’s place and there was nothing keeping him here in this shit hole anymore, so he’d move on, although, some part of him, however small wanted to stay, and make sure that Frank didn’t, like start the entire building in fire when he got frustrated about something, because it was pretty obvious that he had little to no control over it. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Frank opened the door to the apartment and walked in, Gerard close behind him. Brian looked up from where he’d apparently just walked out of his room, eyes meeting Frank’s, then Gerard’s. When his eyes landed on Gerard, they narrowed slightly. Then, he looked away and continued with whatever he was going to do, while the two boys kept going, into the bed room.

“He said he didn’t mean to kick you out, you know.” Frank muttered quietly.

“Well, he did it, so I’m going.” There wasn’t any anger in Gerard’s voice, just stating facts.

It didn’t take long for them to pack all of Gerard’s things into a bag; he didn’t have much.

“Are you sure you want to go? I mean, where are you going to stay?”

“I’ll find somewhere,” was all Gerard said.

After everything was packed away, Gerard knelt down, and grabbed the case from under the bed, and placed it on top gingerly.

Frank had an openly curious look on his face, but he wasn’t going to ask, Gerard could tell. Frank carried Gerard’s bag out of the room, setting it by the door with the case.

“Your positive you’re going to leave?”

“Just think of it this way, you’ll have an actual bed to sleep in now.”

Gerard turned around to get his coat, and Brian was right there, Gerard’s coat in his hands.

“Blood again, Gerard? Where the hell does this stuff keep coming from?”

“I told you, dru—“

“And how long do you expect me to keep accepting your crap?”

Gerard was torn between just telling this one, it was self defence after all. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Gerard! You can’t just not tell me why you’ve come home with blood on you at least three nights a week for the last... I don’t even know how long it’s been.”

“I can. I am.”

Frank looked really uncomfortable, hovering by the door, the feeling of another fight breaking out heavy in the air.

The thing inside Gerard was still stirred up, revving for another go, another fight, and Gerard almost wanted to let it, to show Brian why he’d come back covered in blood so often.

“Your—“

“Guys, ple—” Frank's voice interjected, strangely loud compared to how quiet he’d been.

“I don’t have to tell you!” Gerard was louder than Frank, cutting him off, turning toward his things and the door to just get the hell out.

“You guys!” Frank was actually yelling now.

“Frank! Shut up!” As soon as the words left Brian’s mouth, he looked like he regretted them, but that was still a second too late.

Gerard had turned on him, all restraint shattered in that instant, a low growl rolling from his chest. Brian stumbled a step or two back, looking entirely terrified.

His shoulders tensed, getting ready to rip the fucker’s throat out. He lunged, all barred fangs, claws and nothing but pure rage, his vision flashing red.

Gerard could feel his teeth close around something, and he bit down hard, only letting up when a small whimper came from behind him, along with a small pressure around his neck and against his back.

He had to blink a few times to actually make out what was in front of him, and actually comprehending what he was seeing. Brian was gone, he wasn’t in front of him, bleeding out; he was just gone. Instead, a pale forearm was in the bottom of his vision.

“Gerard...” Frank's voice was pained, his breath hot on Gerard’s shoulder. “You need to let go of my arm. We need to go.”

Gerard did let go, and took in what he’d done.

On Frank's arm was a perfect semi circle on both sides of teeth marks, deep, red, and bleeding.

Right then was the first time in nearly two hundred years that Gerard felt truly disgusted with himself.

Gerard turned, Frank's arm still in his hands, blood smears at the corner’s of his mouth, Frank's other arm still half way wound around his neck, “Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” Frank muttered, withdrawing carefully, his expression reading a careful ‘or is it?’ “Just help me get my clothes.”

It dawned on Gerard then what Frank was getting at. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Gerard, I sure as hell can’t stay here!”

Gerard sighed, not really wanting to drag Frank out with him, but it had already happened.

“Fine, just a second.”

Frank nodded, bleeding arm held close to his chest, and went into his bedroom. Gerard, on the other hand, hurried into the bathroom, and dug around under the sink and grabbed the first aid kit and promptly stuck it in with his things, before helping Frank with this back and getting it on his back.

The pair of them made their way out; away from the building maybe a block before Gerard stopped them, dropping his back and the case onto the pavement, under an already lit streetlamp.

“Sit down, and let me see your arm.” Gerard pulled out the kit, and Frank sat next to Gerard’s things, leaning back against the lamp. Gerard crouched next to him, disinfecting the bite as best he could, before bandaging it. He looked up, and Frank was already looking at him.

“It’s not your fault... is it?” Frank's face was guarded, like he wasn’t quite sure what kind of response he was going to get. Hell, Gerard wouldn’t know what to expect either.

“I don’t know how to answer that, really.” Gerard’s answer was slow, unsure.

Frank nodded silently, looking away.

“Come on, we gotta get outta here as quick as we can.” Gerard held a hand down to Frank, still feeling really bad he’d dragged the kid into this and just fucking bit him on top of it. “Brian could’ve fucking called the police for all we know.”

Frank nodded again, standing, and following in Gerard, eyes never leaving the dirty cracked pavement under his feet.

-x-

By the time the pair of them stopped walking, it was easily two or three in the morning. Frank was lagging several feet behind, his right arm cradled close to his chest, looking like the walking dead.

They were out of the main part of the city then, there weren’t even functioning streetlamps – sure, there were a few here and there, but none of them worked – and by this point in the night even Gerard was getting tired. He stopped in front of an old, and what looked like abandoned, apartment building. The hallways leading to the apartments were dark and deserted. He moved to the nearest one, checking once to make sure Frank was still behind him and tried the door. It was locked. Of course it was. Nothing was ever that easy. He slid the bag from his back, and set both it and the case next to the door, before taking a step back. With one swift, powerful kick, the thin wood around the lock on the frame was splintered inward, leaving the door hanging open.

“Come on.” Gerard grabbed the case and his bag, moving into the dark room. It couldn’t have been that old, because the room hadn’t acquired that odd musty odor that closed off rooms usually get. There was a bare mattress off the side of the room, but that was it for furniture. Not that it mattered; it wasn’t like they were staying there, only for the night.

By the time Gerard gave up trying to find another way of securing the door other than just the dead bolt, Frank was curled on his side on the mattress, his back against the wall, using what looked like a balled up hoodie for a pillow. Gerard couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the obscurity of it. He looked totally out of place there, so small – and even Gerard had to admit – cute laying there, hood pulled over his head, concealing all but the lower half of his face. He was debating on whether or not he was going to risk laying next to Frank, because Frank would have no idea he was there, (he had been asleep before his head had hit the mattress) and there was a very good chance of him freaking out whenever they woke up. But Gerard really didn’t feel like sleeping on the floor either. He dropped himself onto the bed, staring up at the cracked, water stained ceiling, quickly drifting off.

Gerard was startled awake by a small noise, and an utterly freezing something against hand. He opened his eyes quickly; opposite hand clenched in a fist, ready to right something off, then took in his surroundings. Same apartment, same everything, but Frank was a hell of a lot closer, and freezing, his hoodie pulled tight around him, trying it keep himself warm in his sleep. Without a second thought, he unzipped his own sweatshirt, draping it over Frank along with the one he’d previously been using as a pillow. Gerard didn’t think it was cold, but Gerard didn’t get cold.

Gerard thought it would be a good idea, since he was up, to go find some food for them, and dug through his bag for a marker or pen or something and some paper, but the only paper he had on him was his sketch book, and didn’t want to rip paper from there. But it didn’t matter, these were abandoned apartments. He got up, and went to the wall with a Sharpie, and wrote a quick note on the chipping paint of the wall, hoping Frank would look up if he woke up before Gerard got back.

-x-

Frank woke to the sound of a plastic bag and the crinkle of paper.

With a small, sleepy noise, he was sitting up, extra sweatshirts falling into his lap, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“Breakfast?” Gerard’s voice came from somewhere nearby, causing Frank to crack open an eye to see him. In his hand, there was a bagel wrapped in waxed paper, holding it out to Frank, another one in his other hand.

“Thanks,” Frank replied groggily, accepting the offered food, setting it in his lap, on top of the sweatshirts. They ate in silence, either not wanting to talk, or just not knowing what to say.

Gerard stood up from the corner of the bed when he was finished, brushing the crumbs from his lap, and when to his bag. Frank watched as he started pulling out things, clothes. Frank thought that he was just going to change or something, but he just kept taking stuff out. Soon, his bag was almost empty, spare a few necessary things that he could only see the top edges of.

“What’re you...?” Frank started, trailing off.

“Getting rid of what we don’t need, you should do the same. Then we can just use one bag.”

Frank could accept that logic, and leaned over, grabbing his bag from the floor, pulling out the few extra things he had, including his now junk, old, mp3.

“Here,” he threw his bag with the clothes in it he still wanted in it to Gerard, who caught it, taking the clothes out, and laying them in his own bag, along with some bottles of water Frank hadn’t seen before.

“Oh,” Frank just then noticed that the mass of cloth in his lap were hoodies, “Here, probably need these.”

He threw them at Gerard, before he could really turn around, and they kind of ended up smacking him in the face.

“Thanks.”

At first, Frank thought Gerard was mad at him, but then he could hear a quiet laugh come from under the fabric covering his face, that Gerard had to untangle from his head, and he was smiling. Frank couldn’t really get used to it, seeing a smile on his face. He’d smiled more while they were trying to get out of the city than while they’d had an actual place to live, which Frank couldn’t help but think was really rather odd.

“Ready?” Gerard was standing now; bag zipped up, leaning against the hard sided black case. Frank was curious as to what was in it, but he didn’t really feel he should ask right now, at least until they were out of immediate danger of police, which would be plenty easy, because no one left the cities anymore.

“Can I change first?” Gerard shot him an annoyed look, because he’d just finished repacking. Frank gestured at the clothes sitting next to him he could easily change into instead, and just leaving what he was wearing there.

“Just hurry.”

Frank moved into the next room, which happened to be a tiny, absolutely disgusting bathroom with an even tinier window set high into the wall. Frank changed as fast he could, only keeping his hoodie, leaving the rest of the floor and taking a quick piss in the empty, dirt caked toilet, before hurrying back out to find Gerard by the door looking rather impatient about the whole thing.

-x-

Four hours later, they were completely out of the city, and Frank had ended up with the back pack, starting to notice now that water was fucking heavy. They’d tried hitch hiking, but Gerard had given up two hours ago on account of two things, the first being that there weren’t really all that many cars in the first place, and no one really wanted to pick up two boys, one of which was carrying a rather large case that had God knows what in it. Frank though that if he were by himself, then maybe someone would have picked him up, because hey, he was still young (and looked even younger), but Gerard looked a lot older.

“How old are you anyway?” Frank wondered aloud.

“Nineteen.” Gerard answered too quickly, too automatically for Frank to really believe him.

Frank was about ninety-seven percent sure he was lying, the kid was a demon or some shit.

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. How would you ever know?” Frank could see a slight smirk curving the edge of Gerard’s mouth up.

Frank kind of huffed at that one, because there really wasn’t a way for him to know.

The two of them fell silent after that, just walking, though Frank had no clue where they were going, and he wasn’t too sure that Gerard actually knew where they were going either. Sometime later, though, they started down a narrow road that started into a fairly thick forest, and that’s when he started to get nervous.

When he was little, the kids he’d grown up with used to tell stories of the monsters that roamed, which now that Frank actually thought about it, could be totally true, and would explain pretty much everything; like the fact no one ever left cities, and that people were just so nervous about everything. There was a loud crack of a branch breaking somewhere in the woods, and Frank couldn’t help but jump.

“You don’t believe in those stories do you?” Frank couldn’t tell if Gerard was laughing at him or not.

Frank scoffed, “Pfft, no.” Lies.

“Well, you should.”

Well, fuck. Not exactly what Frank had wanted to hear, but it did explain quite a lot. What Frank really didn’t want to think about was what would happen if they got attacked or something, because he kind of doubted that Gerard was carrying around semi-automatics in that case of his, but he wouldn’t be all that surprised either, if he was honest. And it wasn’t like he could do anything, he couldn’t control was he started on fire to save his life, it just kind of happened. And he wasn’t sure how the whole crazy killing machine thing worked with Gerard, although he was pretty sure he could control it better than Frank could control his own.

The forest seemed to stretch on forever, by the time it was getting dark, they still couldn’t see the other side.

“We should probably stop for the night,” Gerard said, as soon as dusk started to fall.

“Yeah, probably.” In truth, Frank was slightly terrified to be camping out in a forest that may or may not be monster infested.

They moved off the road and into the woods a ways, so they wouldn’t be seen from the road as easily.

Gerard spent maybe half an hour trying to start a fire, and Frank sat there, cold and sleepy, until he was annoyed enough, and the fire seemed to start itself.

“Well, you could’ve done that, what, forty-five minutes ago...” Gerard sounded rather aggravated, but Frank didn’t care, he just wanted to get warm and go to sleep; fuck the monsters.

“I could’a, but...” Frank mumbled, just because, trying to find a comfortable spot on the tree he was leaning against.

That was when Gerard reached over and grabbed the bag from Frank and pulled out a bottle of water (Good, Frank though, the shit’s fucking heavy), along with a few granola bars, and a blanket. Frank didn’t know where the blanket came from, god damn him.

“Yeah, well, assholes don’t get food, or the blanket.” Gerard laughed; pulling the blanket around himself, leaving no extra Frank could get a hold of.

“Come on!” Frank shouted, smile on his face, hauling himself to his feet, suddenly more awake at the prospect of actually getting warm.

“Nope, you were mean,” Gerard was still laughing, trying to tear off the wrapper of a bar without letting go of the blanket. He had to set the other one down in his lap to do it though. Frank noticed this, and a small smile grew on his face, and he dove for it, one foot slipping on the damp ground though, making Frank barrel Gerard right over backwards, and landing mostly on top of him.

Gerard looked a little stunned that Frank had actually tackled him in the first place, but then just laughed, because, well, it was pretty funny. Frank was backlit by the fire, so Gerard couldn’t really see his face, but from what he could see, Frank looked pretty surprised himself. He had, after all, literally face planted straight into Gerard’s chest.

“Well, I’d give you some of this blanket – since you asked so nicely – but I can’t move my arms. You’ve got them trapped pretty effectively.”

“Oh! Oh, sorry...” Frank, honestly, didn’t really want to move, because it was comfortable and warmer than he had been before, but he pulled himself up anyway.

Gerard stood up, unwrapping the blanket from around himself, before sitting and holding the excess out to Frank, “Here, you do look pretty cold.”

The blanket was kind of big, but still required them to sit close together to get it all the way around them, their shoulders almost touching, their arms brushing when either of them moved even the slightest.

Frank ate his share of granola bars, but all the while, he was dead tired, and couldn’t stop shivering, he didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t get warm for the life of him. He handed off the wrappers to Gerard, who got rid of them somehow; Frank wasn’t paying any attention, their fingers brushing.

“Frank, your hands are freezing!” Gerard sounded a bit concerned, but Frank wasn’t looking at him, he was too preoccupied with staring into the fire, hoping desperately it’d make him warmer.

Then there was a warm (so, so warm) arm around his waist, pulling him against Gerard, his head thumping against the front of his shoulder. Frank was kind of uncomfortable (more mentally than physically), but Gerard was warm, so whatever.

He drifted off sometime later, he didn’t know when, but when he cracks open his eyes, the fire was out, and it was still dark, and he was curled against Gerard’s chest, one of his arms slung over Gerard’s waist, the other tucked against his own chest. He didn’t think anything of it in his groggy, half-asleep state, and just curled up more, Gerard’s arms winding tighter around him. The last thing Frank knew is the smooth slide of skin on skin against his hip, and on his neck, and he’s out again.

When he wakes for the second time, he can feel Gerard’s fingers tracing patterns into the skin low on his hip where his shirt’s riding up, the other hand curled around the back of Frank's neck. When he’s awake enough to actually open his eyes, he lifts his head from Gerard’s warm chest, and looks up at him, Gerard’s fingers sliding up Frank's neck with the movement, and into his hair. Gerard had been just looking through a gap in the trees, up at the sky, his back sore from being slumped against the same tree all night – and not wanting to move and wake Frank – but he looked down when he felt Frank move.

“Hey,” Gerard say’s quietly, meeting Frank's eyes, and promptly looking away again, anywhere but at him. Frank finds this kind of odd, and knows knows he should move, but doesn’t want to. He’s comfortable, and warm, and probably the most peaceful he’s felt in a looong fucking time.

“We should probably get going.” Gerard states a while later, but neither of them moves to get up, until they’re both sore from lying on the ground, and stand stiffly.

“Hey, I have something for you, ‘cause I’m sick of carrying this case around.”

So, Frank though, he was finally going to know what was in that case.

He watched as Gerard pulled the key from around his neck, unlocking it, and dropping the key to the soft ground. At first all Frank could see was the red satin, and then two – Frank really couldn’t believe what he was seeing – swords.

“Gerard, what...?”

Gerard picked up the white one with the blanket, shoving it into a black leather sheath, and held it out to Frank, careful not to touch the metal handle, “It was my brother’s.”

There was a flash of pain that crossed Gerard’s face, not physical pain, but pain none the less. Frank felt this oddly intense stab of something like pity slice through him.

“Gerard, I – I don’t want your brother’s sword. You should have it.”

“Frank.” The pain Frank has seen not a moment ago was replaced by that familiar carefully blank mask Frank had seen so often back in the city, “I can’t even touch it. It’s doing me no good lying in this case.”

Frank didn’t know what to say, he just took the blade, pulling it back out of the sheath a ways. It was easily the length of his arm, and sharp on both sides. But the part that caught Frank's attention the most was the handle. It was an intricately carved cross, bright, white silver with black in the crevasses where the etching was for the runes in it. It was beautiful, and Frank couldn’t help but feel something unknown run through him when he held it. Something that almost made him feel like everything was going to be okay.

Frank pushed the sword back into its sheath, looking over at Gerard, who was re-wrapping (as far as Frank could tell) the leather strips around the long handle of his own sword. Frank could only see the handle, as the sword was still in its casing, and Gerard himself looked strangely absorbed in wrapping, like he was trying his damnedest not to think about something. Frank could only assume it was his brother.

Frank didn’t want to push him or anything, but he couldn’t stand seeing Gerard like this.

“Gerard,” Frank said his name quietly, the word carrying easily in the pressing silence of the woods.

Gerard didn’t look up, only tuged harder at the leather, pulling it tighter. Frank stood there, sword in his hands, feeling awkward and overall, really fucking bad.

“Gee,” Frank almost whispered the nickname he’d heard Brian use once or twice, feeling uneasy using it himself, “C’mon.”

Gerard still won’t look up at him, but Frank saw his hands twitch, and a minute later Gerard tugs too hard on the leather strip, pulling it right out of his own grip.

“It was my fault.” Gerard’s voice was weak, almost defeated, keeping his head down, hair concealing his face. “It’s my fault he died, and I’m turned myself into this... this monster.” His voice broke on the last word and Frank couldn’t take anymore of him tearing himself apart.

He dropped his sword gently to the ground and moved to were Gerard was sitting on the ground, taking the blade from his lap before wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck.

“Don’t say that about yourself.”

Gerard didn’t say anything for a long while, only sighing against Frank's neck before mumbling a soft, “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t saved me from that guy.” Frank was going to ignore the whole choking thing.

“I almost killed you too.” Apparently Gerard wasn’t.

“Yeah, but I got you back for that.”

Gerard left out a small weak laugh, “I guess.”

“ ‘S what I though. So are you gonna, like, tell me how old you actually are now, and what’s going on, because no nineteen year old I know,” – not that Frank knew many – “carries cases of swords around.”

“Yeah, I probably should. Maybe when we get going?”

Then Gerard’s arms are around Frank's back, hugging him close before pulling away, grabbing for his sword again to finish up.

Frank rolled back on his heels, sitting close by in front of him, just watching and waiting.

When Gerard was done, Frank pulled the strap of the sheath over his shoulder, the blade itself lying diagonally across his back. Gerard did the same, pulling the back pack on over the top of it.

“You know I have no idea how to use one of these, right?” Frank gestures at the cross hilt over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that. I’ll have to teach you some time, huh?” Gerard made a contemplating sound, “It’s not that difficult, it just takes a while to get really fluid is all. Well, anyway, are you sure you want to hear the whole story? It’s kind of really long and complicated.”

“It’s not like we’ve got much else to do,” Frank said, and then decided that it sounded really insensitive, “But yeah, I really do wanna hear it.”

“Okay, well, um.” Gerard swallowed, almost nervously. “I was born in 1757, eighteen years before the Revolution. Mikey was only fifteen at the time, so he could’ve fought, but no one would let him.”

Frank was still trying to wrap his mind around the small fact that Gerard fought in the fucking Revolution, while Gerard just continued talking about the war, and how utter shit it was, up until he got to his nineteenth birthday.

“Three days after my birthday, there were some reports of some monsters attacking and killing someone, and we thought for sure it was just the British or something like that, so no one really went out to check anything, but then Shannon when missing.

“We’d been close since we were kids, and we were set to be married when the war was over, and to be completely honest, I really didn’t want to marry her, but I still loved her, you know? Anyway, the same afternoon I found out, I went looking for her by myself, and out in the woods, maybe a mile from town, I found her scarf, and just had one of those feelings that she was around there somewhere. By the time I got to a clearing, there were just so many monsters there, these crazy lizard things with these weird spear type deals,” Frank couldn’t help but laugh, because Gerard was trying desperately to explain with all these flailing hand gestures, and Frank, admittedly, thought it was kind of adorable, “and I knew I couldn’t take them all by myself, but I couldn’t just leave Shannon out there.

“At this point, I’d been dabbling in the Occult for some time, no one knew I was, but I still was, and decided right then, that I was going to summon a demon and use its powers, little did I know it was going to be fucking Beelzebub himself. And I made a deal with him, being over confident, and sure; dead positive that nothing would go wrong, that if I could save her, he could have anyone there, because I knew no one else would be there, and he granted me his powers, not all of them as far as I know, and by the time I was conscious again, which could’ve only been like, minutes, Mikey was there. And, and well, you know how it ends, I think.

“But yeah, now I’m stuck like this forever, because she fucking went and died on me, so I get to live forever, and watch every one I love die because I don’t age, and half the time, I have to move, because if I stay in one place too long, people will get suspicious, and so I never see them again, and...” Gerard sighed heavily, pushing a previously animated hand roughly back though his hair. “If I hear ‘I wish I could live forever’ or anything like that ever leave your mouth, I will rip your throat out. Don’t think I’m kidding, ‘cause I’ll do it.”

Frank laughed, but he really did believe him, really, he did. “Alright, I won’t.”

“Good.” Gerard laughed a bit before continuing his story, “I just left after that, I didn’t go back to town or anything, just left. Every one though I was dead or something because they never found a body, so they just assumed, and so here I am, moving around aimlessly for the next two hundred some years, totally bored, and killing people that tick me off. Awesome life style isn’t it?”

“I think there’s probably worse,” Frank joked, laughing a little. He actually surprised himself at how easy he was accepting this, but Frank knew, not a month ago, Frank would’ve been ‘you’re shitting me,’ and totally blown them off. But now, after he’s seen it twice, and learning that he himself can start fires with his mind, he think he’s a bit more open-minded about things.

When Gerard was finally done talking, Frank started it on his own story – his incredibly boring and mundane story, compared with Gerard’s.

He started in about how his parents basically hated each other, but wanted to stay together for Frank's sake supposedly, which was total bullshit in his opinion. He also went on about how he’s watched their house had actually burned down – he hadn’t really meant it – and then it did, so he ran away, and Brian found him before he’s even spent an entire night on the streets, and took him home, which lead them to where they were now.

“To be honest,” Frank said, “I’d rather be out here than be at home and hear their screaming all the time.”

“I don’t really remember my parents. All I really remember is that I didn’t like them all that much. The traditional English upbringing got really old, really fast.”

Frank could remember what it would’ve been like from his history class, but couldn’t imagine living it.

“You fight in Korea too?” Frank posed the question as kind of a joke, but he was still slightly curious.

Gerard laughed, “Yeah, didn’t want to though. Got shot a couple of times, actually, but you know,” he shrugged, “didn’t stop me. You know, that’s another thing that sucks about not being able to die. In war, all the friends you’ve made are all dying around you, and you know that nothing’s going to happen to you no matter what, but everyone else is dying. It’s a horrible feeling.”

Frank could only try to imagine. He couldn’t fathom what it would be like. He couldn’t help but feel almost petty for thinking his life was so suckish, but compared to Gerard’s, his life was so brief and like nothing. Frank had never been in a war, hell, he’d only been in four fistfights, and none of his friends had ever been killed, much less having to watch them die.

Frank went quiet shoving his hands into the pockets, concentrating on the soft tup-tup-tup-tup of his chucks on the cracked, broken road.

“Hey,” Gerard nudged his shoulder with his own, “it was a long time ago, okay? Most of ‘em woulda been dead by now anyway.”

Frank looked up at him and Gerard has this soft smile of his face that Frank totally wasn’t expecting, and couldn’t help but feel a little better and crack a small smile himself before looking away again.

“It’s just, you’ve been around for, like, ever, and I’m only seventeen, and that’s like nothing.”

“Frank, that’s plenty long. You’ve had it rough, that can feel like an eternity.”

“Look at you, getting all profound and shit.” Frank was trying to hide the smirk on his face.

Gerard just laughed again, wrapping an arm around Frank's shoulders, pulling him into his side, ruffling his hair.

“Mmph.” Frank pushed away, still smiling.

Only a few moments later, finally out of the woods, Gerard froze, Frank didn’t notice, and kept walking.

“Frank, stop.” Gerard’s voice was low and cautious. Frank stopped and turned to look at him, trying to figure out what was going on. “I need you to come here and be as quiet and as possible.”

Frank's eyes went wide, and he nodded once, starting toward Gerard. He got maybe six feet before Gerard’s eyes narrowed, and in a single fluid movement, he had his arm around Frank's back, pulling him forward, the other arm bent back, pulling out his sword.

Frank felt something warm, wet, and thick spatter across his back, soaking through to his skin quickly. His face was pressed against Gerard’s shoulder, where it had planted when Gerard had grabbed him. He took a deep shuddering breath, feeling one of Gerard’s hand fisted in his shirt by his shoulder.

“C’mon, we gotta go, there’s gonna be more of ‘em.” Gerard’s voice was quiet, but carried a heavy sense of urgency along with it. The younger swallowed, pushing away, swiping a hand at his own back, coming away wet with a thick, dark iridescent liquid, the same covering Gerard’s sword and spattered across the arm that had been across Frank's back. Behind him, the body of something he’d never seen before – a huge gash across its face, running deep into its skull, oozing the paint like liquid into its coarse dark fur – lay, twitching periodically with the last spasms of its nerves. From what Frank could still tell, the thing looked like some sort of huge (and he meant huge – at least four feet tall at the shoulder) insectoid wolf creature, with huge fangs and even bigger claws on its long, thin, muscular legs.

Gerard was hyper alert the entire while they were walking, at a much quicker pace than before, passed patches of trees here and there, most farther off the road.

“I don’t remember the next town being so far away,” Gerard growled, obviously put off by the sudden attack.

Then came the ominous snap of a branch from behind in the woods. Gerard turned to look, prompting Frank to look also, and there were tons of them. At least fifteen sets of large, segmented eyes stared back at them.

“Fuck.” Gerard hissed, grabbing hold of Frank's wrist, spurring him into a run.

Gerard ended up a few feet ahead of him, and after a while Frank just couldn’t run anymore, and they were right behind them, and Frank didn’t know what they were going to do, he just didn’t fucking know.

“Ger-ard!” Frank got out between gasps for air, and he saw a sudden shudder run through his body, and Gerard skidded to a stop, ending up between Frank and the monsters, eyes narrowed and crimson, pointed teeth set in a tight snarl before throwing himself at the beasts.

“Frank! Get out of here!” Gerard punctuated his words with a whooshing swing of his blade.

Frank didn’t move.

“Frank!”

Frank turned, and he ran, straining himself, trying to run, even though it was past the point of burning, and had moved onto something indescribable. He stopped when he couldn’t hear them well anymore. All he could do was double over on himself and try to breathe again.

-x-

Gerard was glad he could get Frank to leave for a couple of reasons. He was mostly glad that what happened to Mikey wouldn’t happen to him. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with his blood on his hands too.

The second reason was that, honestly, he didn’t want Frank to see him like this. It wasn’t something he was proud of, not something he wanted to show off.

At some point, his sword had been knocked out of his hands, or he’d let it go in his own accord, he couldn’t remember, but it wasn’t slowing him down any. There were two of these things left, one right in front of him, the other somewhere close behind, so there was no avoiding an attack from one direction or another, he just had to get rid of them before they had a chance to get to Frank.

Then he heard footsteps, Frank's footsteps, and wiped around, going to yell for him to back the fuck off and get the hell out of here, but before the words could leave his mouth, claws where in his back changing the words into a mangled, furious snarl. He could hear the thick thunk of Frank's blade embedding itself into the back of the creature. Gerard quickly turned on and killed the monster that had attacked him, thinking it was the last one, and they could just go and hopefully find somewhere to clean up.

A screech reached his ears along with a surprised, pained cry. One of those things had attacked Frank, claws and teeth deep into Frank's side. Gerard hurled himself blindly at it, colliding heavily with it, throwing it off him and killing it before it even knew what had happened. He knew there were more monsters coming, but he had to check on Frank. He had to.

“Frank,” Gerard’s clawed hands cupped Frank's bloodied face gently. Frank was totally unresponsive, blood gushing from long gashes in his side. “Frank. Frankie, please.”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move, he didn’t do anything.

A sudden, unbridled anger surged though him. The mother fucking bastards had killed Frank, and he was pissed.

His head started to throb, his temples pounding, the tips of his fingers sore, and it was all so sudden, the pain so foreign, it just ticked him off even more.

Then the pain exploded, vision going black, something warm running down his face and hands. Gerard clutched at his head trying to make it stop somehow. And then it was gone, quick as it had started.

His fingers wrapped around something long and bone smooth protruding from his temples – angled almost straight back and razor sharp in the ends – on either side of his face. The claws on his hands were almost like bone knives now, like the bones of his fingers had sharpened themselves and pushed out through the tips, leaving his hands and face covered in his own blood. He looked up, and he could see the shapes of heat that the creatures produced, hiding in the trees, shifting minimally, waiting for the opportune moment to attack. But he had the upper hand now.

Within minutes, he had slaughtered them, and made his way back to Frank, picking up his limp body, and hoisting it up onto his back, Frank's face pressed against the back of his shoulder. Gerard refused to believe that Frank was dead, and he was going to get him help. He had to stop when a wave of pain crashed over him, reverting the change, leaving him bloodied, exhausted and sore.

But he had to keep going, had to find help. He stumbled forward unsteadily, knees giving out before he could go a hundred feet, world fading to black.

Part One
Part Three

You Don't Know A Thing About My Sins Part One

criminalsofwar — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 18:27:47 GMT

Slightly garbled, almost hysterical laughter bubbled out of his mouth as the punch landed straight to his gut, causing him to fold over the fist involuntarily. The taste of blood was thick on his tongue (and he could taste that it was all his own) and he only laughed harder. He dropped to his knees, unable to stand with the spastically twitching muscles in his stomach - still giggling. His laughter only elevated the rage of his assailant, a very, very drunk man, who was easily twice his size. The wino swung an impressive, if slightly off balance, kick at the boy’s ribs. The blow sent the boy flying into the air, and he landed heavily. Scuffing across the pavement, even more abrasions appeared across his arms as he skidded into some trash cans; filth and refuse showered him. The man’s drunken stupor caused him to pause in contemplation when the boy didn’t move for several long moments. Then the young man lifted himself, shakily, onto his hands and knees, still smirking through the blood that dripped from his split lips, and trickled down his face from his glistening blood-matted hair.

This is what he did. He saw how much abuse he could endure before his body forced the change upon him, if even only slightly. Apparently tonight, this was his breaking point. The boy’s head snapped up. The man jolted, albeit belatedly, but his reflexes were excellent for someone whose blood was more alcohol than haemoglobin. The boy’s grin split his face like a jack o’ lantern, and looked every bit as maniacal. Only something about him was different. His eyes where a shining, glistening, crimson red, the same vivid colour smeared across his pale, pale skin. They were slitted, like cat’s eyes. Demonic, bloody cat’s eyes. A twin set of long fangs marred his bright white grin, making it all the more menacing. The sight would’ve been terrifying by itself, but the blood everywhere, and the fact that the man knew, knew, he’d beaten the shit out of that... that thing, which now was clearly seeking its revenge, made it worse.

The boy (or whatever it was) dragged himself to his feet, straightening, and popping what had to be every single joint in his body, still with that smile. That creepy fucking smile.

“N-no. I-I-I’m sorry. Please.” The man stammered, stumbling back, holding his hands out in front of him, startling when he hit the solid brick wall behind him.

“Should’a thought of that before picking a fight with a kid, eh?”

There was no chance for the man to reply before the boy - no, demon- was upon him. He gripped the man’s face tightly in one clawed hand, the other gripping his shoulder, yanking the man’s head back, before sinking his fanged teeth into his throat. With a single powerful tug, the boy had effectively torn out the man’s throat. He let the wheezing body fall from his mouth, still after all this time, after all he’d done, smiling.

-x-

The screaming. The fucking screaming. It never stopped. Frank covered his ears with his palms, pressing hard until all he could hear was the pulse of the blood through his veins. His fingers scratched against the growing out, bleached white hair on the sides of his head. Even through his efforts, he could still hear them. He knew what they were fighting about, it was always the same exact fight. It never changed.

He looked up, eyes locking on his bag on the floor only a few feet away from where he was sitting on his bed. He was all prepared to run away. Seriously ready to do it. He didn’t want to, but he almost felt like he needed to. He loved his parents – well, one was technically a step-parent – he really did. But he just couldn’t stand them together. They were decent, affable people when separate- but combined they became hellcats. He just couldn’t take it anymore. He eyes clenched shut, trying to just block out the noise and pretend everything would be okay.

Then, breaking though the flesh of his hands was a particularly loud shout, then what sounded a lot like a slap.

Frank pulled his knees to his chest, gluing his eyes closed even tighter, if possible. He just wanted it to stop. He wished that, like, his house would start on fire, so his parents would stop arguing for ten fucking seconds.

Suddenly a flickering light bled through his eyelids, and a muffled roaring sound reached his ears. Frank’s eyes snapped open, taking in the raging fire that now consumed the far corner of his room, consuming everything nearby faster than he thought possible. He spared no second thought about it, leaping up and grabbing his aforementioned bag. With one swift movement, the window was wrenched open. He dropped into his lawn, two stories down.

He looked back once, to see the flames reaching out his open window. So, he thought, his parents would have to save each other or save themselves. He didn’t care, he wasn’t coming back anyway.

So, Frank ran. After he had rounded the first corner from his house, he pushed himself as hard as he could without falling to get away from that hellhole, (Frank allowed himself a small chuckle between gasps for the pun). He’d fallen a few times, palms and knees stinging worse than they would’ve if he’d just let himself fall, but he kept trying not to land on the bag strapped on his back. It was getting pretty dark by the time he finally stopped running, leaning heavily against the side of a dirty building. Wait, check, this was a cleaner building. The whole city had fallen into virtual disrepair; he didn’t know when, but he knew it hadn’t always been this way. There was no way a city could start out like the shithole this was. Frank continued walking simply to ease the rasping of his breath and the sting of he cramps. Eventually he meandered his way to a familiar, over-grown park. He used to come here a lot when the household war had just begun and he needed a quiet place.

Pulling the boy out of his thoughts was the feel of something wet sliding down his hand. He looked down, and saw the crimson droplets falling from his fingertips. He did the one thing he could, wiping the blood across his dark jeans, leaving rusty stains across both the folds in the skin of his hands and across the fibres in his pants. Oh, right. He’d fallen all the way there. He’d have to go find bandages soon. The last thing he needed was an infection, and with his seemingly ineffective immune system, it was bound to happen.

The sound of deranged, twisted laughter reached his ears, garbled in a throat in a way that made Frank uneasy. He whipped around, heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. That sound hadn’t come from far away, he could tell. Sure, he could easily take any kid in his school; but the things that stalked the streets at this hour of night were like nothing he could fathom in nightmares. Part of him, the more sensible part, sometimes referred to as “common sense” or “instinct”, was telling him to get the hell out of there. The other part of him, his “curious cat” side, wanted to know what human creature could possibly loose such demented, delirious noise; it wanted to find where that laughter was coming from.

Frank turned back toward the dense foliage, taking a few steps into its embrace, going through the motions of finding a suitable spot for the night. However, he decided only to hide his things in the thick vegetation, before picking his way out again. He felt this maddening desire to seek out the sounds. He moved cautiously, almost hesitantly, towards the nearest alleyway entrance, moving along the side of the water-grime-and-who-knew-what-else-stained brick of the building. Frank edged around the corner oh-so slowly, with the only thought processing in his mind being the thunderous beating of his heart in his ears. Peering blindly into to the thick inky black of the corridor, his eyes picked up nothing. Goosebumps tingled all over his skin. As he was squinting into nothingness, something hot and wet spattered across his forehead and onto the ground around him. The liquid looked black on the pavement at his feet, but against his skin it was vibrantly red.

Blood.

Frank looked up to the sky (stupid move, he thought afterward), trying to find where it had come from. The stars betrayed nothing, though, leaving him totally confused and more scared then before. Behind him sounded the sharp clack of boots on cracked sidewalk. He spun around. Before him was a boy, maybe a half a foot taller than himself, drenched in fresh blood. It oozed from gashes across his cheeks and on his arms, and matted his black hair together in sticky clumps (Frank wasn’t sure if it was actually black, or if it was the blood). It leaked from the corners of his wide smirk. The boy’s canines was longer than they should have been, forming what looked like fangs, which Frank might’ve thought was cool under different circumstances. His eyes were like burgundy wine, and Frank could’ve sworn that the pupils were slitted.

“I was never here, you never saw me, right?” His voice was, deeper, rougher than expected, like it was spliced from a B-movie villain. Frank nodded feverishly, eyes wide.

“S’what I thought.” The boy turned on the heel of his heavy black boot, and moved away quickly in a slightly animalistic lope.

After that, sleeping outside in the ex-park was the last thing Frank wanted to do, but he had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to stay, because he sure as hell wasn’t going back to his almost as certainly burned down shell of a house. He had Nowhere, absolutely fucking no Place to call home.

He couldn’t shake the lonely feeling, so he went back, grabbed his bag, and just kept walking, anywhere away from here. He’d find somewhere eventually, he hoped.

-x-

By the time the blood-soaked boy had managed to calm himself completely, it was totally pitch black outside. He could still see of course, his superhuman senses never left, which was annoying sometimes, but he could deal. He had somehow managed to wipe most of the blood off his face, and the cuts on his arms had already healed. The only thing that was really bothering him was the sticky feel of dried blood and the bothersome twinges of pain coming from the left side of his rib cage where the guy had kicked him. He could guess several of them were broken, but they’d be fine in an hour or two.

The boy stopped in front of a door on the bottom floor of a dilapidated apartment building, and raised a hand. The blood dried in the crevasses of his hand looked almost black in the randomly flickering light on the single bulb above his head. He watched the rusty red flake to the floor in places, leaving it looking almost like there were two layers of skin, one dirty and old, the other new, and baby smooth.

Brian opened the door and just like always, looked somewhere between angry and worried, his mouth pinched into a flat line.

“Gerard! God, are you alright? You look like you were forced through a meat grinder, kid.”

“I’m sorry that drunk guys like to beat on me,” Gerard replied, with a sigh, brushing past him, into the dimly lit and surprisingly clean apartment, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“I’ve gotta go to work in like, ten minutes. Throw your clothes into to the sink, fill it with some water- make sure it’s cold- and put some peroxide in it. I’ll take care if it when I get home. Make sure you rinse out the tub when you’re done in there okay?”

“Yes, mother.” Gerard sighed, in a mocking tone.

“Ignoring that. I’ll see you later, then. Actually try to get some sleep, Gerard.” With that, Brian exited the building.

Gerard didn’t particularly like lying to Brian as to why he came home bloody and beaten at least four or five times every week, but what else was he supposed to say? “Oh, hey, Brian? Yeah, I’m some sort of freakish devil-spawn, piss me off and I could kill you. Just thought you’d want to know.”

Yeah. Or not.

Gerard walked out of the bathroom, wet hair dripping down his back, towel in hand. He’d had to rinse out the tub three times to get all the rusty pink water to go down the drain. He looked around the dim apartment, and moved toward the kitchen. The change always left him hungry, and tired sometimes. It depended on a lot of things.

All he could find in the fridge way some old mac’n’cheese, and two leftover burgers, which he would have to settle with for now, until Brian got home. He usually brought stuff home from the bar where he worked. After eating, he draped himself over the arm of the worn leather easy chair, the leather sticking to his back and his arms, but otherwise being comfortable.

There was nothing on TV, nothing. There really wasn’t ever anything on at this time of night; game shows, sitcoms, tabloid gossip, infomercials. It was totally mind numbing. Gerard could feel himself drifting off to sleep, so he let himself go, slipping easily into the dark well of unconsciousness.

-x-

Four huge dragon-like blackened faces, the skin resembling the outside of a charred marshmallow, cracked and black and flaky, loomed in front of him. Each had narrow glowing soulless crimson eyes and huge horns in a variety of shapes.

The largest was crouched in front of Gerard like it was ready to pounce on him, even though it was easily a hundred times bigger than he was.

“What do you want, boy?” it’s voice was deep and rumbling, it’s breath smelled like death and decay, it was hot and dry, and just made Gerard's skin crawl.

“I need help.” Gerard was immensely pleased with himself that his voice neither shook nor sounded as desperate as he felt.

The beast – a demon – laughed at him, the sound so deep, it shook the ground beneath his feet.

“And what is it that you want, human?”

“I want to use your powers until I can save the one I love.”

Gerard knew that the only people there would be him, Shannon, and all those monsters, so everyone would be safe.

“And if you fail?”

“You can have whoever else is there.”

“I will accept your request, boy.” The beast looked like it had a smirk across its lips, and he immediately knew something would be wrong. Something was going to happen that he wasn’t expecting.

It raised a huge clawed foot, and suddenly pain exploded through him, his head felt like it was going to rupture, it felt like someone was ripping his teeth from his mouth, like his hands were being slowly pulled from his arms, knives being shoved under his fingernails.

Then he could hear the roaring of the monsters, and he opened his eyes, and everything was sharper, he could see each individual scale on the lizard things, even from where he was laying, five hundred feet away. He could feel the extra room that – holy shit – the fangs in his mouth took up, the razor claws on his fingers. Blood covered his hands, and he could taste it in his mouth. He got up hurriedly, wiping his hands on his pants, grabbing the black slightly curved blade at his side and ran toward them, faster than he ever could’ve before.

A shout reached his ears, a voice he recognized, and it made him sick. Mikey. No, no, NO! The thing had fucking knew Mikey had been on his way, had heard about the attack, and was coming. Fuck. There was nothing Gerard could do.

“Shannon! Gerard! Where are you?” he could see Mikey yelling, looking around for them, long white sword with its intricately carved cross handle in hand. Gerard couldn’t let Mikey see him like this, so he just shouted to him.

“Mikey! Get. The fuck. Out of here!”

“No. I am not leaving you! Are you crazy?!”

He reached the monsters just then, throwing himself at the nearest one, into its hard scaly side, avoiding the spikes on its lashing tail and back. Out of somewhere, a strange animalistic instinct took over his mind, as the beast fell, turning and snarling viciously at him. Gerard lunged, slicing through its throat with his claws, the blade in his hand totally forgotten. He couldn’t see Shannon anywhere.

Then, he spotted a slick trail of blood in the grass leading into the trees. Then he heard Mikey coming up behind him.

“Shannon’s in the woods, go find her, I’ll take care of these things.” Gerard hissed, through his teeth, unconsciously hefting the blade over his shoulder, moving towards them, uncharacteristic snarl in place.

He’d killed three of them before he heard the scream. He bolted towards the sound, finding Mikey covered in blood, a tight grimace on his face, sword bloodied, and he was breathing heavily. He turned to see what the noise was, eyes widening as he took in Gerard’s appearance.

“W-what happened to you?” Mikey’s voice was almost inaudible.

“Nothing,” Was all Gerard would say.

A moment later, he coughed. “They... they got her.” Mikey swallowed, a slight shake in his voice, “I- I tried, Gee, I did, but I couldn’t fight them all off...”

Gerard’s stomach dropped out. He moved toward his brother, all traces of the demonic traits from moments before drained away. He wrapped his arms around Mikey, patting his back in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“It’s okay. You tried. That’s all I could ask for.” His words were hollow.

There was a loud roar, and Gerard jumped, Mikey looked confused. He let go of Mikey and saw it. The demon he’d made a deal with.

“You failed, boy. His life is ours now.”

“NO!” Gerard snarled, feeling a wave come over him, a rippling wave of shuddering muscle, and he had fangs and claws again. He threw himself at the beast, only to get thrown off, into a tree, knocking the breath out of him.

Mikey’s look of despair turned to one of sheer terror.

Picking himself up, he snagged Mikey’s sword up off the ground where he’d dropped it, and it burned in his grasp, the black and silver metal glowing, but he didn’t care, he had to try and save his brother. Even if that meant dying in the process.

The thing’s back was facing him now, and he lunged at it, plunging the glowing white metal deep into its back and it screeched. Gerard couldn’t imagine what it felt like being a creature of evil and getting stabbed through with holy metal. He didn’t want to know, just holding it burned enough. The demon’s tail swung up, and knocked Gerard off again, leaving the sword there, lodged into its back. Gerard needed that sword. Mikey had run off, and it was following him. Gerard ran after them, flinging himself up onto its back again, ripping out the sword and hacking at the beast as much as he could before getting whipped off again. There was no blood, hell, no nothing, on it. There was no way Gerard could kill this thing alone. No way. But he was going to fucking try.

He jumped and caught the thing in the side, hanging there, before dropping off, the sword in his hand. The only blood in the sword now was his own; the metal was burning though his hand like acid. The monster lunged then, catching Mikey with a massive foot, knocking him easily to the ground. He cried out, and Gerard tried, fuck, he tried, but he couldn’t get there in time.

There was more blood than Gerard ever thought could come from a single person. The demon had vanished, leaving a bloody, lifeless corpse behind. One that had been Gerard's best friend.

Gerard jerked upright in the chair, panting heavily, body slick with sweat. He swiped a hand over his face, releasing a shaky breath. Even after almost two hundred and fifty years, he was still having nightmares about it. He couldn’t help thinking about how different everything would’ve been if he had succeeded in saving Shannon. He’d be long dead; he knew that, not stuck here on this vile decaying planet with no one and nothing.

Gerard pulled himself off the leather, and into his own tiny dark bedroom, getting down on his knees, and pulling a large black case from beneath the bed. Unlocking it with a key from around his neck, and flipping the latches reviled soft red satin, nestled around two swords. Mikey’s still glowed white when he was around it, and he still couldn’t touch it without burning himself, but he did it anyway, just to feel that he actually could feel the pain, real pain, not just annoying aches. Gerard’s own blade rested next to it, the runes etched into it still looked brand new in the shining black metal. The leather wound around the handle was starting to fall apart, but that was easily fixed. He’d have to go buy some sometime soon.

Gerard could hear the lock scrape in the door, so he quickly locked them back up, and shoved the case back where it had been before.

“Gerard?” He heard Brian’s voice call, quietly, so he’d only hear it if he was awake.

Brian usually didn’t say anything when he got home, just put the food in the fridge, and went to bed. Gerard poked his head out of the door, and was about to ask what was up, and then stopped, mouth slightly open.

That boy was with him, the boy he’d seen wandering the streets. Why was he here? Why the hell would Brian bring him here?

Gerard gave Brian a silent stare. Brian shot back a look that said ‘What? I couldn’t just leave him there.’ The boy looked nervous, looking between the two of them, trying to figure out what was being said.

Brian had this unquenchable need to take in homeless kids. Which, of course, Gerard was grateful for - but still WHY THIS ONE?

“Gerard, this is Frank, Frank, Gerard. He’ll be staying with us from now on, okay?” that was accompanied by a look that said, ‘Mess with him, mess with me.’

Gerard shrugged, and turned away, before being called back out.

“What?”

“He’s sharing your room.” There was a certain finality in Brian’s words that even Gerard found it hard to want to disobey.

Gerard just stared between Brian and Frank.

“Where’s he sleeping?”

“Extra mattress in my room - put it on your floor. Come get it.”

Gerard didn’t need help carrying the thing, it wasn’t that heavy, but then again, Gerard didn’t really think anything was all that heavy, so he carried it into his room, and dropped it on the floor against the wall furthest away from his bed. Brian followed him in with some clean sheets and a thick blanket.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask one of us, okay?” Another stern look from Brian to Gerard.

“O-okay.” Frank said slowly. He looked exhausted, and Gerard wasn’t about to bother him, Brian would kick his ass.

“I suppose you want to sleep, then,” Gerard said awkwardly, looking at the pile of fabric on the bear mattress.

The smaller nodded, looking at his feet.

“Want some help with the sheets?” Gerard asked. He didn’t want to associate him, his human self, with the demon residing inside him. It had just gotten harder to do that in the last two hundred years.

-x-

When Gerard woke up the next morning, he could hear that Frank was still sleeping. He was making quiet snuffling sounds, and he’d rolled over a few times in the last few minutes, indicating he was either having a bad dream, or was waking up. One or the other.

He cracked open his eyes lazily, turning his head, to see Frank, brows knitted, curled in on himself. Bad dream. With a sigh, Gerard hauled himself up, bare feet planting in the carpet. He didn’t feel like letting the kid suffer. He hadn’t done anything. Yet.

He crouched in front of him, wearing only basketball shorts and his boxers, and poked Frank once or twice in the side.

“Kid, wake up, you’re having a bad dream.” Gerard put his whole hand on the smaller’s shoulder and shook lightly.

Moments later, the boy sputtered awake, looking panicked and not quite sure where he was, his gaze locking on Gerard's, eye’s wide. He seemed to figure it out pretty quickly after that.

“It’s alright, you’re awake now.” Gerard couldn’t help but let a slight reminiscent smile settle on his lips. He used to do this for Mikey a lot.

“Thanks.” Frank's voice was quiet, he sounded like he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“No problem,” Gerard shrugged, standing back up, and crawling back in bed because it was still dark out and he just felt like sleeping because he hadn’t been pestered by any annoying dreams yet.

He drifted a bit, listening to the even sounds of Frank's breathing. He thought vaguely about how this might not be so bad. It was still kind of a sudden invasion of privacy though.

No offence to Frank, but he could live without him.

Maybe an hour later, Gerard woke again, noticing that Frank wasn’t in the room anymore, and he could hear the low tones of a conversation, and though he heard his name once or twice. Screw them.

He pulled himself up out of bed, pushing his hair back out of his face, and opened the door to his – their – room rather loudly, still half naked and not caring even the tiniest bit about it. He wasn’t going to change the way he’d lived for the past two years just because there was another kid here. No way in hell was that shit happening. He ignored Brian and Frank on his way to the coffee maker, pouring himself a cup and pulled himself on to the counter. Only then did he even acknowledge the other two where there.

“G’morning, Gerard.” Brian said, turning toward him and away from Frank. It was close to noon by then.

Gerard’s only response was to quirk an eyebrow to show he had at least heard him. He wasn’t acting like this because Frank was around; he was always like this until he’d had his two cups of coffee. Gerard had never been a morning person. Brian knew this and just turned back around, and kept talking to him anyway.

“What’ve you got planned today, Gee?” Brian was never this talkative in the morning. And he never, ever cared what Gerard did, unless it was illegal or something like that. Was he trying to, like, impress Frank or something? Gerard had no clue.

“Nothing.” Which was true. He could stay home today if he wanted because he knew he wouldn’t be plotting every single stranger’s death in the back of his head. He’d just killed a guy last night. He’d be okay until tomorrow, the day after if necessary.

“Why don’t you do something with Frank if you don’t have anything else to do?” Brian turned back to face him, and Gerard gave him a blank, annoyed stare. It wasn’t totally obvious he was annoyed, but enough showed that Brian would be able to tell. The oldest of the three of them looked almost disappointed in him.

Frank sighed then, breaking the silent, tense staring competition that had been going on, mumbling something about the shower, and got up and left.

“See? Gerard, God, why, why, are you acting like an ass?” Brain sighed agitatedly, as soon as the shower had started, resting his elbow on the back of the chair, shaking his head into his palm, eye that wasn’t getting palm-mashed locked on Gerard.

“What? You can’t just expect me to just all of a sudden drop everything and change for him! I don’t even know him!”

“I dropped a hell of a lot for you, Gerard. You think I was expecting to be taking you in an easy thing? No, but I did it anyway. Get over yourself.”

Gerard just stared at him, eyes wide, feeling the thing stir deep in the pit of his stomach. While Brian had been yelling (he hadn’t been, but he might as well have been,) he’d pushed himself out of his chair, a deep scowl on his face. This was only the second time Gerard had ever seen him angry, and he looked pissed now. His hands were clenched into fists as he moved stiffly toward his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Gerard could feel the tremors building up his spine. He sucked in several deep breaths, trying to calm himself before anything go more out of control than it already was. He could hear the shower shut off, and wasn’t quite sure what to do. He could stay, and put up with Frank, or leave like he said he wasn’t going to do, and wander around town for a while.

He pulled himself off the counter, and into his room, finding clothes. He wasn’t staying here. Brian was pissed at him, which was worse than anyone else Gerard had ever met because he was never out right just angry, he always made it seem like everything was okay, or he totally ignored you. Gerard didn’t like either, because he knew he was mad.

Leaving his room with a black t-shirt and some dark jeans, he pulled on his black leather jacket on his way out the door. It was still a little chilly outside with the morning air still lingering around the city. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going back for quite some time, he knew that

-x-

Frank didn’t know what Gerard wanted of him. He was nice enough to wake him up when he was having that dream (Frank couldn’t remember for the life of him what it had been about), but he’d heard them yelling. It was obvious that Gerard didn’t really want him around. And sure, Brian seemed like a nice guy, he’d taken him in and stuff, but he made it sound like he – no, not just him, Gerard too – were hassles to keep around. He just didn’t know what to do anymore. There was nothing stopping him from leaving again, he could easily just grab his bag and go. But if he did that there was basically no chance of him finding anywhere to stay that he wouldn’t have to pay for, one way or another.

Frank pulled his t-shirt over his head and opened the bathroom door. The place looked totally deserted, although he could hear quiet shuffling from Brian’s room. He moved to Gerard's room – he didn’t dare call it his own – and flopped down on to the mattress on the floor. He was dead tired from not having slept at all the night before, on top of just hardly ever sleeping when he’d lived with his parents either.

He pressed the crook of his elbow over his eyes blocking out the dim light that streamed in from around the thick curtains, regretting he’d told Brian what had happened (minus the spontaneous combustion thing, though. He’d just sound crazy then, even though it had happened right in front of his face). God, he just didn’t know what to do anymore. It just felt like everything was just spiralling out of control.

Frank could feel himself drift off within a matter of minutes, into a reasonably okay dream. He was sitting in the middle of a wide expanse of open grass underneath an old tree in the warm air. The stillness and just the utter serenity of the place was incredible, enough so that, Frank wasn’t too sure he ever wanted to wake up. Minutes later, a low rumble filled his ears and a huge...monster, was the only word he could really come up with to describe it; a huge dragon-like thing with crumbling black skin, and long pointed horns, and glowing red eyes rose from the ground in a rush of dry, hot, grit filled air that threatened to choke him. It was suffocating. And only a few hundred feet away. Just when the thing spotted Frank and lunged for him, a ferocious snarl ripped through the hot gritty air, a body suddenly there, blocking the beasts blow with a single-edged slightly curved black blade.

Then Frank was on auto-pilot. He no longer had control of his body, which was kind of expected, it was a dream (he hoped), but still fucking terrifying. He was up, running toward the beast himself, sword in his own hand. That had startled Frank, but at the same time, he felt this overwhelming determination to kill that thing. Suddenly, a heavy body collided with his own, sending them flying back. The other boy landed heavily on top of Frank, knocking the wind out of him. The other boy rolled off of Frank with a low growl, then turning his head, looking him over, as if checking to make sure he was alright. Frank was utterly stunned then. Minus the blood coloured eyes and fangs, it was Gerard. There was no mistaking it. Gerard was now focusing on the monster that was coming toward them way faster than something that big should be able to go. He had a long gash across his cheek, and Frank was about to say something, when, right before his eyes, he would started to close its self up. Gerard pulled himself up fluidly, and hurled himself at the thing, before Frank could blink. Then Frank found himself on his feet, moving toward it. He saw something fly past on the edge of his field of vision, and turned to see what his was. Gerard was crouched quite a ways away, looking like nothing had really happened; spare the blood running from his mouth and the utterly pissed look on his face. Looking had been a serious mistake. Pain exploded through him. Blood was dripping from the long jagged claws that stuck out of his torso almost instantly, and –

Frank bolted upright, the phantom pain still lingering in his stomach. He wrapped his arms about his middle. Something about that had just been too real, there was something not right about it and Frank couldn’t quite pick up on what it was.

Minutes after, when he’d rubbed the ghost pain away, the only images he could pull from the dream where that of jagged claws though his middle. And Gerard's pale face, with its bruised looking crimson eyes.

After calling to mind the last image, another one popped into his mind. That boy he’d seen the night Brian had found him. Fangs, slittled, ruddy eyes, the same midnight black hair. His eyes widened as his brain made the connection.

No, no. The logical part of his brain pushed back; it had only been a dream. There was no way that Gerard was actually whatever he had been in his dream. No way. It just wasn’t possible... Was it?

-x-

Gerard decided that maybe he’s been gone long enough and Brian wouldn’t kill him now. It was almost dark, and it might’ve been getting cold, but Gerard couldn’t feel it. He didn’t feel much anymore, he couldn’t. He was numb all the time, the only thing he could feel was the dull aches that he had after getting the shit beaten out of him, and even then, he wasn’t really ever feeling it; it was like feeling through someone else’s body. That was pretty much the single thing that Gerard missed. Being able to feel the wind in his face or the warmth of his bed on a cold night, or hell, even the cold would be nice to feel.

He sighed, dragging his feet all the way back home, heavy combat boots scuffing their way down various sidewalks and streets until he arrived back the apartment. The door was locked, which really wasn’t all that extraordinary, but he knew he didn’t lock it when he left. He sighed again, and dug around in his pocket to find his spare key, exceedingly glad he’d remembered to grab it before he left.

He opened the door quickly, and moved across the room quickly to his own, seeing Brian’s door still shut. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back at all tonight. He stopped in the doorway of his room, meeting Frank's eyes. There was something there, something that shouldn’t have been. He knew something, Gerard knew, but Frank didn’t want to believe what he knew, he could just tell. After two hundred years, it got easy to read people. Frank also looked even more exhausted than when Gerard left, even though by his rumpled hair, Gerard can tell he’d been sleeping.

He shrugged stiffly to himself, and dropped himself on his bed, searching between the mattress and the wood of the bed, and clamping his fingers around a thick, squat book. It was bound in dark leather with a chord wrapped about the outside to keep it closed, a vibrant red feather stuck out the top, accompanied by a black one maybe halfway through the book. He opened the book at the feathers, not daring to look at anything previous. He had never done that, and never would. It was something he did to drain himself of the excess of emotion and stress that come from having essentially, two souls in the same body.

He fished a pencil from the same place he got the book from, and started drawing lines on the paper; not thinking about what he was doing, not thinking about anything; just drawing the lines.

Hours passed before he rose from the confines of his own mind and actually took notice of what he had drawn. Mikey’s face stared up at him from the page, a bright smile adorning his face, just like it used to. Gerard couldn’t help but let a small smile settle on his lips at the memory. He looked away from the book, snapping it shut and sticking it back from where it came from.

He glanced around after pulling the book back, seeing that Frank was no longer in the room. Through the crack between the door and the hinges, he could make out a sliver of a body in the chair and the faint sounds of the TV mixed with the barely indistinguishable sounds of cooking.

Gerard could safely assume Brian had finally come out of his room and was making them something to eat, which smelled amazing. He pulled himself up off the bed, and into the larger room. Confusion settled upon him as soon as he entered the room. Brian was the one sitting in the chair, not Frank. Frank was off in the miniscule kitchen, poking something around in a pan with a wooden spoon.

“Wha–“ Gerard started, perplexed look plastered across his features.

“He wanted to.” Brian cut him off, not even looking at him. His tone indicated two things, the first being that that was the end of the topic; second, that he was still pissed at him.

He took a few steps toward the chair, out into the middle of the room so he could see around Frank and into the pan. All he could make out was various vegetables and what had to be chicken. Frank reached down, switching off the stove, and Gerard leaned back immediately.

“Brian, it’s do—“ Frank stopped as soon as he say Gerard, mouth hanging open, eyeing him almost uncertainly.

Gerard looked from the food to Frank, and mumbled an almost inaudible I’m not hungry, before retreating back into his room.

He flopped face down onto the bed, laying there for a moment, before pulling out his book again, looking for a pencil.

Several long moments later, Gerard took notice of what was fleshing out onto the page. Among the vague scribbled lines, was a boy sleeping, a semi-peaceful face, looking slightly uncomfortable. The face of the boy in the next room.

He let out an aggravated sigh, “Oh, fuck this.”

Gerard snapped the book closed, dropping in into the middle of the bed, before standing, and moving out of the room.

-x-

Brian had left a good twenty minutes ago with a small goodbye to Frank, telling him not to worry about Gerard; he was just like that sometimes. Frank had no idea where Brian was going, but he didn’t feel like he should ask, either, even though he was well aware that he wasn’t the one Brian was mad at.

Frank looked away from the TV he wasn’t really watching. He was perched on the kitchen counter, leaning against the cupboard, where he’d pulled himself up after doing the dishes. He’d looked away because he’d heard the door open and saw Gerard slink out; looking generally annoyed (Frank was starting to wonder if he had any other emotions). Gerard never looked at him, only moved the short distance into Brian’s room and come back out a moment later, shoving something down into his pocket. As he left, opening the front door, the sharp distinct flick of a Zippo.

Frank kind of missed cigarettes. He hadn’t smoked enough to be addicted to them, but he liked the feel that the occasional cig had on him - stripping his nerves when he was totally stressing, which was pretty much all the time. Sure, he really wanted a cigarette, but not bad enough to steal them from Brian. They were kind of expensive, and he knew he would be ticked (even more) when he noticed Gerard stole them. Plus, he’d much rather stay on Brian’s good side. He didn’t need another place where he was hated.

He sat, lost in his own thoughts for a long while, before he decided he might as well not just sit on the counter, it wasn’t like he was actually watching TV anyway. Frank slip off the counter, shutting off the television as he went, and slipped into the bedroom, eyes drifting to a small leather book laying kind of rumpled like someone had just thrown it there. Curious, Frank made his was over and picked it up, his fingers sliding over the soft worn leather. Before Frank could turn the cover back, something told he that that was probably the worst decision he could make, that he really wouldn’t’ want Gerard going through his things.

He set the book back down, and retreated back to his side of the room, stopping in front of his bag, rummaging around in it, until he found his old, cheap, mp3 player that still used batteries. He’d have to go and buy some more next chance he got, the thing had been half dead for quite some time now. He pushed in the ear buds, and flopped back onto the mattress, just staring at the ceiling, letting the coarse, grating sounds of the music numb out all thought.

What felt several hours later, the batteries finally died and Frank got up, and moved into the bathroom.

As he came back out, he was immediately shoved up against the wall.

“Who said you could go through my things!?” Gerard snarled, hands fisted in the front of Frank’s shirt, eyes narrowed and cold, face only six inches from Frank's.

Frank was plenty startled at first, and then anger over took him. He hadn’t done anything. The most he had done was move a fucking book. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

“I didn’t touch any of your shit. Get the hell off me.” Frank growled, voice low, glaring at Gerard.

“Like hell you didn’t.” Gerard slammed him back against the wall again. Frank decided not to take this shit anymore.

With his arm bent at an awkward angle against the wall, he swung his fist as best he could, connecting with the right side of Gerard’s face.

He caught Gerard off guard, making him take a step back, his grip on Franks’ shirt loosening. Frank tried to duck away, but Gerard's grip tightened again before he could do anything but lean forward. Gerard swung him forward, making Frank roll oven himself, landing flat on his back in the middle of the floor, Gerard standing over him. Frank noticed, which was odd given the situation, red smears across Gerard’s boots and the bottoms of his jeans.

Then Gerard’s knee was in his stomach, his hands around his throat. Frank struggled, feet kicking at nothing, hands clawing at the fingers that wouldn’t allow him to breathe. Within a minute his vision started to go black.

A far off curse, several angry curses, reached his ears, and he could breathe. He heaved in a huge breath through a throat that felt torn and ragged, turning onto his side. The smell of fire reached him not moments later. He looked past his feet at the pile of black mess a few feet away. The unburned parts looked like cloth, and with a glance further up, he saw a glimpse of Gerard’s bare back crossed with long angry red streaks—burns.

Frank was totally perplexed, what had happened? He pushed himself up slowly, breathing hoarse, and slid across the floor to the shirt. He could feel the slight heat rising from it, the ash crumbling slowly in on its self.

Fire again...

Frank had no clue what was going on, and it was really starting to freak him out. But the fact that Gerard had just tried to kill him freaked him out more.

He got up as fast as his ragged breathing would let him, and immediately retreated into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Frank slid down the door, dropping down to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees.

He seriously needed to figure out what the hell was happening with him.

His mind raced though what had happened over the past few days, and the only conclusion he could come up with after a good twenty minutes was that he was somehow starting the fires, and Frank wasn’t too sure he actually wanted to believe that, but it was the only conclusion he could come up with. And the only way that he would know for sure was to actually try to start something ablaze.

Digging around in the cupboard under the sink, he found a roll of toilet paper, and set it on the ledge of the tub. Now to try to start it on fire. Frank stared at the thing long and hard, just trying to get some result, half hoping he could light things on fire with his mind, because, well, he thought it would be pretty cool, if he was honest. After two minutes of nothing, he started to get frustrated, and was about to give up, when woof, the soft sound of flames reached his ears.

Frank stared at it incredulously for a moment before pushing himself up quickly, and dousing the flames.

Okay, so he lied. Starting things on fire with your mind was not cool. It was pretty terrifying actually.

Frank eyed himself in the mirror. He didn’t look any different, except the deep purple bruise that was forming around his neck. There were darker little circles that could only have been fingers, marring the scorpion there. Frank heard the front door open, and the muffled crinkle of plastic bags, indicating Brian was back. He arranged his hoodie as best he could around his neck to cover the bruise, but that didn’t work so well, all he could do was hope that Brian just didn’t notice or look to close at him. Then, almost as an afterthought, he pulled up the hood, making the bruise less noticeable, but a bit more obvious there was something hidden.

Brian looked up when Frank opened the bathroom door.

“Hey, Frank,” There was a small amount of cheeriness in his voice, quite the opposite of what Frank was feeling.

“Hi,” It hurt to talk, and his voice sounded scratchy. Frank cast a quick glance over his shoulder, at the door next to him, seeing it shut tight both relieved him, and freaked him out. Then he remembered the charred black mess on the floor that as far as he knew, would still be there. But when he looked, there was nothing there, maybe a bit of black dust at most.

“You feeling alright?” Brain looked concerned, eyeing him up and down, looking for something to be wrong, Frank guessed.

“Mmm, yeah.” Frank answered quickly, too quickly, “What could possibly be wrong?”

“I dunno, you just... You know what? Never mind.” Brian let out a soft chuckle, and turned back to whatever he’d been doing, which looked like a systematic process of putting groceries away.

Frank shrugged, and moved over to the small couch, and dropped down onto it. He supposed he’d be sleeping out there tonight, because there was no way in hell that he was sleeping in the same room as someone that could very well smother him in his sleep.

Quite awhile later, Brian came onto Frank's field of vision, looking him over again, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank assured him, with a small smile.

Brian didn’t look too convinced. “Well, if you’re sure. I’ll be in my room in you need anything, m’kay?”

“Okay.”

Frank really hoped Brian had kids of his own someday. He’d be an awesome dad. He wished his step-dad would’ve been that cool, then maybe he wouldn’t have run away in the first place. But then he’d never had met Brian either. Frank let out a frustrated sigh, curling on his side. He didn’t want to think right now, didn’t really want to do anything. He just wanted to sleep and forget and... and... he didn’t know. He just wanted to not think for a while.

He must have drifted off, because a sudden, loud noise (accompanied by a steady mantra of ‘shit, shit fuck’) woke him. Looking around wildly, Frank's eyes landed on a sheepish looking Brian, standing in front of the TV, finger still on the volume down button.

“Sorry.”

“S’alright, I was awake anyway.” Frank’s voice was rough with sleep and his throat was just plain sore. Frank didn’t want to lie to Brian, but he didn’t want to make him feel bad either.

The bathroom door opened, and Gerard came out, hair wet, staining his shirt. His eyes met Frank's looking aggravated, then drifted lower, locking on something.

Then Frank remembered the bruise.

Before he could cover it, Brian followed Gerard’s gaze, seeing the deep purple, almost poisonous looking bruise.

“What happened?”

Frank didn’t say anything. He looked past Brian, at Gerard who was still standing in the middle of the hall, face perfectly devoid of emotion, eye’s meeting Frank's, almost like he was waiting for Frank to tell Brian what he’d done. Frank thought about it for a moment, then remembered the burns on Gerard’s back. He couldn’t say anything; Gerard would almost assuredly show the burns he’d created. Frank just could bring himself to say anything.

Brian looked over his shoulder, following Frank's look, and seeing Gerard standing there still, he made the connection on his own.

“How dare you!? You tried to kill him? Gerard, why in God’s name would you do that!?” Brian’s voice was rising, his hands curled into loose fists at his sides, like he was trying not to ball them, but almost couldn’t help it.

Gerard only met his angry stare, and remained silent.

“Get out. Just... get out.”

Gerard looked taken aback, “...What?”

“Get out.”

No one moved.

“Now. I want you out of here, right now.”

Gerard still didn’t move, his face starting to harden into that angry mask.

“Gerard! Get the fuck out of my house!” Brian was actually shouting now, which startled Frank more than a little.

Gerard’s face was set into a full scowl, “Fine! Fine, I’ll leave. I’ll come back for my shit later.” There was a sharp venom on his voice that rose goose bumps on the back of Frank's neck.

He grabbed his jacket off the floor underneath the hook, shoving his arms in the sleeves.

“Have a nice fucking life.” He growled over his shoulder, glaring daggers at Brian, and left, slamming the door behind him.

Brian sighed heavily, pushing his hands roughly back though his hair.

“My god...”

“I’m sorry...” Frank said almost involuntarily. He was just used to things being his fault.

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s just... I don’t know.” Brian’s arms fell to his sides, limply, staring off into space.

But Frank couldn’t help but feel it was his fault. Everywhere he went he caused chaos; at home, at school, now here, and he was fed up with it. Fed up with bringing sorrow to good people, like Brain. There was only one way Frank could really think of to end that.

“Damnit, I – I didn’t really mean to throw him out, just...” Brian sighed, an agonized look on his face.

“I... I can go look for him...?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I want to.” Another lie, straight to his face. Frank didn’t plan on finding Gerard, hell; he didn’t plan on going anywhere when he was finished with himself.

“If you really want to. Just... be careful, okay?”

“Okay.”

Brian gave him a small smile, and reached out to ruffle his hair before walking away, Frank wasn’t paying attention where, he was too busy staring at his knees, not really believing he was going to do this.

He pushed himself up off the small couch, making his way into the room he shared with Gerard, and dug through his bag, pulling out his dad’s old worn Swiss army knife. He dropped the knife into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and moved toward the door.

-x-

Part Two