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Winter Knights - Three -

Title: Winter Knights - Three -
Author: vononxx
Rating: NC-17 (Eventually)
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
POV: Third

Summary: Whenever Frank’s parents were fighting, which was almost every night of every day, he’d sought solitude and calm at the playground across the street. That is, until Gerard Way with the odd golden-blonde hair came shuffling into his life like some creature of the night...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I promise.
Beta: xojemmaxo
Warnings: swearing, fluff, sex, abuse, underage sex, bullying, biting, blood, (kind of) death, minor cross-dressing, murder, attempted suicide (sort of... you'll see when you read it), alcohol, drugs, etc. If I can think of anything else, I'll be sure to mention it in coming chapters.
Author Notes: A new chapter :D Thanks for reading! Also, to make up for the lack of The Devil In Me and the late updates, I’ve made this the length of two of my normal chapters, and merged them into one :D Oh, and in this chapter some very important shit goes down… like, seriously. Feedback is awesome and greatly loved :3
Previous Chapters:
Chapter One
Chapter Two

New Chapter:

Frank should really exercise more. His lungs ached and there was a stitch pinching his right side and he could barely breathe -- fuck his stupid fucking lungs, really -- but he had to keep running in favour of stopping and becoming a punching bag for Mark and his gang.

He had tried to cut class after lunch but one of Mark’s goons, Jacob, found him and notified his friend’s before Frank could get a proper head start. He really didn’t feel like getting beat up today. It was tiring and exhausting, mentally and physically, and Frank just wanted to go to the park in peace where he could dump his bag and sit under the slide and just have time to himself.

But now he was pretty much fucked.

He glanced behind him and saw Thomas on his heels, shit eating grin on his face and his hand outstretched. Frank didn’t have time to swear before the hand grabbed onto his bag and pulled. Frank jerked backwards but quickly moved his arms out of the straps, stumbling forward, running again, before Thomas could pin him to the ground and spit in his face.

“Get back here you short fuck!”

Frank just ran, his chest tightening as the shock sprang to his eyes in the form of tears and he wiped them away furiously. He wasn’t going to cry over this one. Not this time; not now.

They continued to chase him and curse at him, laugh giddily, and Frank rounded the corner to his street, almost losing his footing on a pile of brown, crunchy leaves but collecting himself quickly. He could see his house but didn’t want to go there in fear of his dad being home. Dad had a sick sense of humour, and he might punish Frank by holding him for them and letting them take turns beating Frank until he couldn’t stand or see right.

The park was also off limits. There was nowhere to hide in there.

So Frank ran to the only person he knew would help him—he hated to admit it, or maybe he loved it, deep down it thrilled him, to have someone actually notice him every once in a while. He sprinted faster, legs hurting, and rounded the fence, colliding into Gerard Way’s front door. He banged his fists as hard as he could against the wood, shouting, but there was no answer.

Frank banged harder. He could hear the insults of the other boys clearly, now, and he glanced around to see that they had almost reach Frank’s houses’ mailbox. Frank held his breath, turned back around, and saw Gerard standing in the doorway with the front door wide open. Though he wasn’t standing in the doorway as such, more like in the front hall of his house, in the shadows so dark Frank could only see some of him.

Frank didn’t say anything, didn’t ask, just leaped inside and pushed Gerard out of the way, shutting the door and locking it. He leaned against the cold wood with his eyes closed. He slowly slipped down onto the ground, breathing hard, panting, relief flooding inside of him like some new drug, and Frank opened his eyes and said a shaky,

“Thank you.”

Gerard was just standing there. He had dark rings around his eyes, his mouth was in a straight line and he was paler than when Frank usually saw him. He stood awkwardly, bemused, eyes wide and pupil’s tiny dots.

“Uh—“ he cleared his throat quickly and stood straighter, hands down at his side, fingers twitching. Frank stared up at him. “You’re welcome?”

Frank pointed his thumb behind him. “Some people were chasing me.”

Gerard’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Chasing you?”

Frank nodded. “They don’t like me very much.”

It took a moment of pondering, but Gerard finally nodded a little and sat down in front of Frank, crossing his legs like a child. A trickle of blood sluggishly ran from his nostril.

Frank pointed at it. “Um. You’re bleeding.”

Gerard looked a little spaced out – he was staring at Frank like it was the first time he’d seen him. But then he blinked and pressed a finger to his nose, held it there, red dripping over his finger and onto his shirt.

Frank turned his head and took a moment to actually notice his surroundings then – it was dark, every curtain from what Frank could see of the living room had been closed, blinds pulled down over them. There was a candle in the corner of the room – twisted and frozen in a cluster of white drops and long, spindly wax fingers -- sitting on a small table beside a thick, large bookshelf filled from top to bottom. The candle flickered orange on everything, just barely. Frank shivered slightly.

“Nice place you have,” he lied.

Gerard laughed, then, a surprising sound. He sounded surprised himself, too.

“It was my Grandmother’s; Lady Elena.”

Frank frowned.


“It’s actually a shit hole, if I’m being honest. You should be honest, too, Frank.”

Frank stared at him and let out a nervous laugh, cheeks flushing. He’d been caught. “Yeah, okay. It kind of is.”

“Why were those boys chasing you?” Gerard asked abruptly, seemingly randomly, but Frank knew better. He was leading up to something.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They just don’t like me.”

“Do they do this often?” Gerard’s eyes were earnest and wide though a little dull. The circles around his lids seemed to have gotten darker, deeper in a matter of minutes. The blood was still dripping from Gerard’s finger where he held it underneath his nose and everything about him seemed a little surreal. Frank frowned.

“Are you okay? Your nose is still bleeding.”

Gerard’s lips moved underneath his finger into a smile and he said, “I’m fine. It happens when I don’t get enough sleep, that’s all.”

Frank frowned still, nodded a little. Gerard said, “You haven’t answered my question, Frank. Do they chase you often?”

Frank couldn’t stop staring at the red dripping from his pale finger. He shrugged. “Among other things.”

“Like what?”

“Why do you want to know?”

It was Gerard’s turn to shrug. “I believe that if it’s worth enough, it should be protected.”

Frank looked at his eyes that time and blinked. “What?” He hated it when Gerard made no sense. The man was like a riddle already, Frank didn’t need him to speak in tongues, too.

“All I’m saying is, is your life worth enough for you to protect it?”

The question loomed in the front of Frank’s mind, pressing against his eyes, loud in his ears. He thought hard about it but couldn’t really come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

Gerard leaned back a little with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Let me show you something.”


“And that’s Mikey. My brother.”

Frank glanced up at Gerard as they sat at his kitchen table in the orange glow coming from the candles beside his arm. Gerard’s face was highlighted, his eyes bright and shining with a sorrow he’d never seen before. They were usually so sincere, so honest and confident. But now they gazed upon the old photograph like something longing and sad, so sad, and Frank, on a whim, reached out and placed his hand over Gerard’s. He blinked, unsure of why he did it, and Gerard gave him a small, uncertain smile.

“He died in a – a fire. When we were boys. I tried to save him but couldn’t; he was fifteen.”

Frank tore his eyes away from Gerard’s face and finally looked at the photograph. Gerard had shown him an entire album full of these old pictures – they looked much older than Frank would think, the people in them dressed in odd attire, out dated and formal – but Frank didn’t know why he was looking at them. Now he stared at a portrait of a young boy who appeared much older than his face showed for some reason or another, Frank wasn’t sure. He looked like Gerard, sort of, but with a squarer jaw and wider eyes that bore into Frank with such an intensity it sent chills through Frank’s spine. His hair was on the wavy side, curling softly around his ears and old, round glasses that looked about ready to snap. His skin was white in contrast to the grey background and dark eyes. He stood beside a chair where someone’s arm was visible, someone who had been cut out of the photograph.

Frank couldn’t stop staring at it, and Gerard said, “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Frank didn’t respond, didn’t know how. He had never heard someone call their brother beautiful. But Gerard was right in a way. The boy was beautiful, like his brother, and Frank eventually nodded and cleared his throat, said, “Yeah. He is.”

He didn’t realise that he still had his hand over Gerard’s until Gerard stood up abruptly. Coolness seeped away from Frank’s hand and he stared at the tips of his fingers for a moment. Gerard pushed his chair in and looked down at Frank.

“I’m terribly sorry to be the rude host, Frank, but I think I may need to sleep for just an hour or two. Is that alright?”

Frank looked up at him and saw that he was even paler than before, his eyes sunken and a dribble of blood running out of his nose again. Frank stared at the red smudged over his lips. He was swaying slightly, as if drunk. Frank said, “Yeah of course.”

“You’re welcome to stay until however long you wish. I wouldn’t want those boys pestering you. Stay, I’ll only be an hour, two at the most.”

Then he walked away, disappeared from the kitchen and into a dark hallway, shadows swallowing him up like an apparition in a snow storm made of black. Frank sighed, stared down at the photograph of Mikey again. He pulled the album closer, fingers resting gingerly on the corner of the worn, coffee-tinted pages. He stared at the arm for a moment before frowning. There was a small, white crease along the edge, delicate. He peeled the plastic sheet away gently and lifted the photograph out as though it were about to fall apart. The photo had been folded, the person deliberately cut out of it. He glanced towards the hall once more; being sure Gerard wasn’t coming back out from the dark, and then focused his attention back on the photograph.

He began to unfold it slowly, carefully, revealing more and more of the image. He almost cried out and dropped it when he saw the rest of the photograph, the hidden person. The familiar bright eyes, the cocky smirk, the pale, round face and softened features. It was Gerard. He looked exactly the same as he did now, though he had different coloured hair, ebony and shoulder length, but he was the same age. Frank swore he was – there was a massive difference between fifteen and thirty. He could feel his lungs tightening all of a sudden and he inhaled, dropped the photograph and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

The photo was old. Mikey was fifteen. Gerard was thirty, or in his thirties at least.

When we were boys.

Boys? Frank looked back down at the photograph, picked it up gently and flipped it around. There was scrawling writing, much like Gerard’s from that journal, and a date.


Frank ran a hand through his hair and calmly folded the photo again, slipping it back in place and closing the album. He pushed it away, leaned back in the chair, and just sat there, staring at its old, worn cover and faded writing on the front that was barely legible anymore.


Frank stood up and left. Mark and the others had given up fortunately, and he walked the fifty meters to his own house where he could collect his brain which was currently curled up at the back of his skull, disorientated and confused, demanding answers.


It finally struck him late that night, around three thirty in the morning as he lie awake for what seemed like a life time, the hours stretching by slowly and painfully. It hit him, choked him and made him gasp for breath as he tried -- tried -- to convince himself that it wasn’t true. They didn’t exist. He turned his head and stared at the window, covered that time by dark curtains. He hadn’t wanted to see Gerard’s house when he went to bed, but now he itched to peek past the curtains in the hopes of some confirmation. Anything. He knew he’d get nothing, though a deeper part of him just wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

He sighed, trembling slightly, and stared up at the ceiling again. There must have been a logical explanation, but all indications that Frank had noticed over the past few weeks were pointing in the opposite direction. He turned on his side, pulled the blankets close to his chin, and closed his eyes but never getting to sleep.


Frank didn’t go to school the next day. He sat in the park on the swing, thinking and waiting. The time stretched on and Frank moved to sit behind the slide as he watched his mum’s car pull into the driveway across the street. She was home after the weekend, looked happier. She carried bags into the house from the car and closed the door, and Frank could breathe again. If she had seen him sitting in the park, she would have grounded him, called the school. She was paying for his education and she didn’t want it to go to waste.

A few hours later and Frank’s ass was numb. He stretched out his leg and shook his foot a little, groaning and rolling his head from side to side. He watched his dad come home, scowl on his face, tie pulled loose and his suit open and looking worse for wear. He went into the house and Frank waited for the fighting to start.

The sun began to go down, light seeping slowly into orange, into purple and eventually grey, dark, night. Frank sighed and stood up, stumbled a little before stretching his legs and walking on. He dragged his fingers over the pole of the swing set on the way past them and ambled across the road. He felt like he was in a daze, watching himself walk towards Gerard’s house. He climbed the porch steps and knocked on the door.

Gerard answered it only a few moments later. He didn’t look surprised by Frank’s presence, he just said, “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

He sounded distressed and upset, and his eyes were dark. Frank couldn’t think about that, though. All that kept running through his mind was the thought that it could be remotely true. He itched to know and his brain was running in circles and repeatedly bashing itself against his skull walls, and he ended up blurting out,

“You’re a vampire.”

Gerard blinked. “Excuse me?”

Frank stepped closer. “Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve figured it out.”

Frank watched Gerard fold his arms over his chest and lean against the door frame. “How are you so sure? Please,” he said, smiling, “do tell.”

Frank sighed. “I’ve seen your fangs. You only come out of the house at night; you did that weird thing on me last week and besides. I saw you in that photo with Mikey. The one that had been folded over so it hid you – you look exactly the same and the date said it was taken like, over a hundred years ago. You’re a vampire.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully calm about this.”

Frank breathed deeply, tried to stop his legs from shaking so badly, and glanced at the ground then up at Gerard again. “Well, I’m trying not to freak out.”

They both fell silent and Gerard just stared at Frank with bright eyes. Then he smiled and two long fangs extended from his gums in a fraction of a second. Frank stepped backwards, eyes wide.

“Shit,” he breathed.

Gerard said, “About time you figured it out, too. I’ve been waiting for weeks.”

It was Frank’s turn to act confused. “What?”

Gerard lifted a hand, ran it through his blonde hair. It just fell back down in front of his eyes; a few strands that clung to his eyelashes moved when he blinked. He said, “If I’d have told you myself you wouldn’t have believed me. And trust me, if I hadn’t wanted you to know, you wouldn’t know. But now that you’ve worked it out for yourself, you won’t be calling the asylum on me, will you?”

Frank frowned. “I guess not...”

Gerard did have a point. If he’d have told Frank even last week Frank would have laughed in his face and avoided him from then on. Frank looked at his shoes and scratched the back of his head.

Gerard said, “Do you want to come in?”

Frank really did. He really, really did, but even though something in his gut urged him forward, Frank stepped back. He couldn’t, partly because it went against everything in his head, not his gut, and partly because Frank knew that when he stepped through that front door who knew what could happen. He barely knew Gerard.

So he shook his head. “No.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “Alright then. I suppose I’ll see you at the park sometime.”

He didn’t wait for Frank to reply, just stepped back and closed the door. Frank sighed and turned around to go back to the park.


He opened his eyes and Gerard was standing above him, blonde hair tousled and hanging in his face, his skin pale in the moonlight, the coat gone and his pale blue sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Frank blinked up at him and he smiled, fangs and all.

They were sharp and white, rather wide, and they created dents in his lower lip where they pressed into the soft, pink flesh. Frank was dreaming.

He sat up a little, squinting before leaning over and turning the bedside lamp on. The flicker bathed the room in orange and created stark contrasting shadows on Gerard’s face. Frank said,

“Gerard. I – I’m dreaming.”

Gerard smiled wider and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are,” he murmured. He lifted a hand and reached forward, and Frank thought, only a dream and let Gerard run a hand through his hair. He lifted it out of his face before letting it fall back in front of his eyes.

“You’re very beautiful, Frankie.” Gerard’s voice was like velvet in his ears and Frank’s stomach felt all squishy, his head felt fuzzy, wrapped in cotton, and he said, “I am?”

Gerard nodded, tilting his head to one side. He leaned forward until his nose was brushing Frank’s cheeks, and Frank just sat there as Gerard kissed him. It was cold and soft, gentle almost, and Frank’s mind left him. He thanked that it was only a dream and kissed back.

Gerard pushed his tongue past Frank’s lips and Frank let him, moaning and sucking on Gerard’s bottom lip. Gerard brought his hands up to Frank’s shoulders and pushed him back onto the mattress. He then sat atop Frank’s small hips, grinding, kissing, biting. Frank rolled his pelvis upwards and Gerard growled and licked Frank’s upper lip.

Frank arched his neck back and stared at the headboard, panting. “This is the weirdest fucking dream I’ve ever had.”

Gerard froze then before crawling up Frank’s body and grabbing his face with both hands, kissing him again, harder, fiercer, and Frank moaned loudly. If it wasn’t a dream, he’d be blushing right now. Or he’d be pushing Gerard away because he wouldn’t want this, not at all. But it was a dream and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted in his dreams.

And then Gerard groaned and Frank could taste a metallic iron on his tongue. Heavy and warm and sweet. He thought it was odd that a vampire had warm blood before he thought it was odd that he was tasting blood at all. But it was a dream.

He pulled away, swallowed hard and saw blood smeared across Gerard’s lips. He shrugged, leaned forward and licked at them and Gerard smiled against his tongue.

“Frankie – “

Frank pulled away, panting and tasting blood and Gerard kissed his cheek, nuzzled his nose. “I have to go.”

Frank almost wished he didn’t. He wanted to stay in this dream for as long as possible. But Gerard stood up and went to the window. He opened it and climbed out, and Frank pulled the covers up to his chin.


When Frank woke up he was hard. The dream came rushing back to him in flashes and he sighed, feeling slightly ashamed at himself for actually dreaming it. The room was still dark and he looked at his clock to find that it was only four in the morning, and he wondered what had woken him up. Usually he could sleep through a boner until morning.

He groaned, rolled his hips into the mattress once before swinging his legs out of bed and walking out of his room, into the bathroom across the hall. Dad had gone to work and mum wouldn’t be up for at least another three hours, so Frank turned on the taps full blast and shed his clothes. He dumped them on the bathroom mat before glancing up and catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He froze, stared.

Dark rings circled his eyes and there was a tiny bit of dried, flaking blood smudged over his bottom lip. He frowned; must have bit it in his sleep when he was making out with a vampire. Shaking his head and glancing down at his erection he sighed audibly. He stumbled into the shower, hot water stinging his skin and he groaned, rested his forehead on the tiled wall and wrapped a hand around his dick. He closed his eyes against the water and the tightness in his gut.

He was just getting into it when suddenly his stomach started churning and he yelped as it cramped up. He doubled over, hot, burning pain crawling just beneath his skin. He felt like he was on fire.

And then the burning was crawling up his throat and he hiccupped, froze, before promptly vomiting against the tiled wall. He opened his eyes, coughing, found that the wall was covered in red.


Blood bubbled up his throat and he vomited again. It immediately swirled down the drain with the water and Frank stumbled and shoved open the shower screen door, collapsing onto the tiles and choking on blood and vomit.

He whined, sobbed and everything just burned. It was too hot and Frank was drenched in not only water but sweat. The tiles were cold, and even though they were covered in fluids, Frank rolled onto his side, blood rushing out of his mouth and nose like a relentless tap. He struggled to stand up before his legs gave out and he could no longer feel them, move them. He inhaled and gasped when there was a break in the vomiting, but it didn’t last long and he tried to call out to his mum but no one came rushing to his side like when he was young. For all he knew, mum could be passed out, drunk still from last night on her bed with her shoes still on.

But someone did come rushing through the door, though it was the last person Frank expected. He lifted his head with an effort, coughing and spluttering everywhere and Gerard kneeled down and hooked his arms underneath Frank’s back and knees.

Frank cried out, pressed his face into Gerard’s neck because he was cold and Frank was being burned alive, and couldn’t help the blood and bile that continuously spluttered past his lips and onto Gerard’s shoulder, seeping into his expensive looking blue cotton shirt.

He tried to say his name as Gerard shifted him until he could get a towel around his body without having to drop him, but it felt like Frank’s throat had closed up. He gasped repeatedly, needing oxygen, and Gerard didn’t glance down at him when he said, “Just hang on, Frank. I’m going to help you.”

Frank whimpered, tears blurring his vision. He was scared, terrified, hurting. He couldn’t feel his legs. And he was trusting a vampire with his life. Something snapped through his spine and he involuntarily jerked. Gerard held him tighter and Frank could see ceiling turn into sky as Gerard trudged across his front lawn to next door. Frank didn’t know what was happening but he just wanted it to stop.

“G-Gerard – “ he stuttered, barely able to get the word out, and Gerard kicked open his door and closed it with his foot, carrying Frank into the bathroom where he laid him in the tub and turning on the taps. Cold water blasted out of them and Gerard took the towel off Frank, gently lifting him into a half-sitting, half-laying position where his head would be above the water. As soon as the ice water hit Frank’s skin he cried out in relief, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting a hand to grip the edge of the bath.

“This will help, Frankie.”

Gerard leaned down, shoved the plug in and dropped the towel onto the ground. He knelt on the tiles and cupped his hand in the water, bringing it up and letting it drip through his fingers onto Frank’s forehead. Frank whimpered; the water felt like relief, bliss, it cooled his skin and slightly calmed the itch underneath. Frank opened his eyes, mouth agape and eyebrows knitted together as he stared at Gerard. He squirmed a little as he slid down the bath, unable to move his legs to support him, and Gerard gently tucked his hands underneath his arms and lifted him slightly higher.

“Everything fucking hurts, Gerard,” Frank mumbled, suddenly feeling exhausted. His voice was rough from vomiting and he could barely work up the energy to shape the words around his lips. Gerard moved one of his hands and rubbed around Frank’s mouth, wiping away blood and bile and tears.

“I know. But it’ll be over soon.”


Gerard sighed and turned off the taps. “I’ll go find you some clothes.”

He stood up and Frank wanted to grab his hand and keep him there because he felt like he was dying inside and he was so fucking terrified, but his limbs were sluggish and aching and he dropped it back into the water gracelessly.

When Gerard came back, he lifted Frank out of the bath and carried him into a room, lit by a lamp on a dressing table. He sat him on the edge of a large bed and Frank collapsed on his back, unable to hold his upper body up. At least the vomiting blood had stopped for now.

Gerard began to rub a soft towel over Frank’s bare body and Frank had never felt more self-conscious. He blushed, and slurred, “What’s happening to me?”

Gerard didn’t look up at him, just continued to towel dry him. He said, “I. I can’t tell you, not now. Soon.”

Frank didn’t know what he meant by that, but then Gerard dropped the towel and grabbed a pair of cotton pyjama pants. He dragged them over Frank’s calves and thighs, skipping the underwear and just sliding it over Frank’s ass. Frank felt the tiniest bit better with some sort of clothing on. After all, he barely knew this man and the only person who had ever seen him naked like that was his mum when he was young and she acted like a proper mother.

Frank lifted his arms slightly when he was told to do so and Gerard pulled a shirt over his head, arms, and tucked it down over his torso. It was large, baggy and hung like a blanket on Frank’s small body.

Gerard then lifted him off the bed and manoeuvred him to the head, setting him down carefully and pulling the blanket over his body. Frank tried to protest, could feel tears springing to his eyes at the thought of ever being warm again – the flush had calmed down from the ice water, and he wanted to keep it that way – but Gerard just reassured him in a gruff, soft tone that he would need it.

Frank couldn’t gather enough energy to argue further, so he just tried to relax into the pillow and within minutes his head was fuzzy and his body was heavy – he still couldn’t feel his legs – and he lost consciousness.


When he woke he was shivering, trembling. He was so cold that suddenly he wished for the heat that scorched just underneath his skin. He opened his eyes, remembering where he was and what had happened, and clutching the blanket, pulling it under his chin.

“Gerard!” he cried out because Gerard was the only one who could help him. Hot tears spilled from his eyes as the suffocating sensation came back to him.

The bedroom door suddenly burst open and Gerard was at his side. He held hot water bottles, and he lifted the blanket and began shoving them underneath, pressing them against Frank’s body. Frank’s teeth clattered and Gerard looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

He knelt beside the bed, tucking the blankets around Frank’s shoulders and then stroked the hair from his head. He said, “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“What’s happening?” Frank sobbed, words coming out in broken syllables and small pants.

Gerard looked grave, guilty. He didn’t say anything so Frank just stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d stop shivering and the pain would go away.


The next two days blurred together into one painful, horrendous lifetime. It stretched on and Gerard could barely take Frank’s screaming and moaning anymore. The bed sheets needed to be changed twice daily as Frank continued to vomit blood. It got to the point where he lost all control of his bowels, and he sobbed for hours as Gerard cleaned him up and put fresh clothes on him and clean sheets on the bed. Gerard told him that it was okay, this was normal, and Frank didn’t question the ‘normality’ once. Gerard wasn’t even sure that he could hear him anymore.

And then Frank went blind and he stayed by his side through the night and day, fortunate for the blinds bolted to the wall over the windows. He felt drained, exhausted and dying as his nose and ears leaked blood, but he wouldn’t leave Frank’s side for anything. He held his hand tightly as Frank laid still, eyes open and staring at nothing, glazed over, pale. His breathing was laboured and he didn’t say a word or couldn’t speak at all.

Gerard can’t remember his transformation. It was too long ago. But he felt such sorrow and sympathy as he watched Frank cry continuously and moan in pain and stare out at nothing.

By the third night Frank was barely moving, barely making a sound. He breathed hard, struggled with each inhale and exhale. He moved his eyes to stare in Gerard’s direction and Gerard squeezed his hand. It was cold and clammy and he lifted it to his lips and kissed it gently.

“Am I gonna die?” Frank croaked all of a sudden and Gerard looked back up, into his glassy, bloodshot eyes. Dark rings circled diluted brown and dull white, and his skin was sickly pale. Frank’s lips were slightly parted as he could no longer breathe through his nose; it was congealed with blood and dried around his nostrils and upper lip. Gerard reached over to the bedside table and clutched one of the clean hand towels, dipping it into the bowl of water beside it. He then gently wiped at the rust coloured patch, and said,


Frank stared at a point beside his head, tears fell from his eyes. Gerard wiped them away, leaning forward and kissing his head.

Frank whispered, “But I don’t want to die.” His voice cracked and he gasped, wheezed, coughed. Gerard helped him sit up and he rubbed his damp back, holding a hand over Frank’s mouth. When Frank stopped coughing Gerard’s hand came away speckled with blood and Frank wheezed in a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Frankie,” Gerard said, helping Frank lay back down. He tucked the blankets over his chest and wiped his hand on the towel before sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Frank’s hand and squeezed. Frank closed his eyes, breathing shallow.

Frank died several hours later, late into the night. Gerard hadn’t realised at first, it was a quiet inhale followed by silence, and eventually Gerard noticed he was no longer breathing, no longer trembling. He sighed and kissed Frank’s hand once more before standing up. He needed to act fast now.


The grave took three hours to dig. Gerard had lost most of his strength from lack of sleep, and it got to a point where he didn’t even care that his nose bled over his chin and mouth and onto his shirt. He was already covered in blood and bile and piss and he just didn’t care. He needed to do this as quickly as he could, shovelling dirt onto a messy pile beside the deep hole in the ground.

When he’d finished, he dropped the shovel and went inside. He came back out with Frank in his arms, and he stood at the edge of the hole. He kneeled down, almost slipping on the dirt. He tried to lean down as far as he could with the dead weight in his weak state, but he couldn’t get as far as he wanted so he let Frank’s body drop to the bottom. He grimaced and apologised out loud to the young corpse, panting slightly.

Frank looked incredibly small down there, surrounded by dark with only the moonlight playing on half of his body where the hole didn’t shadow him. His face was white, almost glowing in the dark and Gerard felt a pang of guilt when he saw one of Frank’s arms had been trapped underneath him at an awkward angle.

He then began painstakingly shovelling the dirt back into the hole, watching as it covered Frank’s body up little by little.


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 6th, 2012 12:09 pm (UTC)
Awwwws! Frankie you poor dead body! Gerard you best treat him right when he rises and explain yourself young man!

Oh My dear it is simply lovely just wonderful! Do keep going my dear!
Apr. 6th, 2012 07:22 pm (UTC)
Hahaha, yeah he'd better -.- Thank you so much, your comments always make my day brighter :D <3
Apr. 7th, 2012 02:51 am (UTC)
Why sweet heart anytime! You are quite the writer! I just can't wait for your newest works!
Apr. 7th, 2012 11:33 am (UTC)
I haven't commented on the other chapters before, but OH MY GOD. I started reading all of this today, and I'm hooked.

"Frank died several hours later." I literally had a fit. But then I thought, Gerard's a vampire, so he can save him and shit. Is Frank gonna be a vampire now?.. Oh god, I can't bear the wait, I'm gonna go and read the next chapter right now!

Amazing job with this by the way!
May. 30th, 2012 02:51 am (UTC)
Thank you so much :D sorry for the late reply D: ive been so busy, it's killing me.
May. 29th, 2012 02:55 am (UTC)
Oh my gosh! Absolutely spectacular!
May. 30th, 2012 02:50 am (UTC)
Thank you!!
Dec. 30th, 2013 08:00 pm (UTC)

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )