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

[criminalsofwar]

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