summon the rains now
Frank/Gerard, PG, dystopia ftw!
~ 800 words, written for September 8th, also inspired by Penelope (by Pinback) and Our Lady Of Sorrows (by MCR)
<3333 turnyourankle
Summon The Rains Now
Gerard’s taken up praying. Clutching Frank’s meerschaum rosary in his wet hands so hard that it leaves full moon impressions on his skin, he murmurs promises to the invisibles he has never really considered before.
He is dirty and cold; licorice-black hair in his eyes as he shakes on the autumn-dampened grass in a midnight blue jacket waiting for the long day to finally end. In the backyard of an abandoned terrace house, he waits for the overtly fat sun to get swallowed by the muddy ground and the nightfall to wrap them up in comforting darkness.
They’re still in Belleville, they have been for too long now and Gerard knows they have overstayed their welcome.
He doesn’t remember when it got this bad; remembers warm summers and lush apple trees instead; his and Mikey’s wooden toy swords that at some point got replaced with real ones; their mother’s quirky dimples when she smiled for the last time. His brain has blocked a good portion of memories however, memories that no one should have to live through for longer than necessary.
Meadow flowers have tempted their faith and against all odds crept into the dead, battle-exhausted land. Gerard thinks he might want to draw them if he wasn’t so tired. It’s the first time in weeks he’s even thought about the days when he was a starving artist, not a starving survivor of a holocaust.
Breathing in smoke from his cigarette, he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander. His right palm rests upon his weapon, calloused finger pads softly caressing smooth blade, the rosary still swirled around his hand.
Minutes later, Frank slumps down next to him on the grass, his partly broken jeans getting wet like Gerard’s but he looks warm still.
‘There’s frozen veggies in the house. Baby carrots or something. Mikey found ‘em while digging through the freezer,’ he says. ‘Oh and canned pork also, if you’re into that.’
Frank huddles into his soft, well-loved hoodie. His fingers curl momentarily around the tips of Gerard’s as he steals his cigarette remains. Gerard gives him a sympathetic smile.
Frank huffs a laugh. ‘Yeah, I guess at times like this I should just give up on my beliefs and eat like the rest of you.’
Gerard watches him from behind heavy lids, thick lashes and all, feeling oddly serene. ‘No- no, actually, I think maybe you shouldn’t,’ he says thoughtfully. Frank makes a half nod after a while, eyes poring over Gerard’s face like he had never really looked at him before.
‘We need to… We can’t stay here anymore,’ Frank says suddenly, flailing his cigarette hand a little desperately, ashes falling on their knees like fucked up snow. ‘We need to leave.’
‘I know- I know we do.’ Gerard’s relieved he’s not the only one thinking this. Frank looks relieved also as he throws the cigarette away. It lands on a small, mossy rock.
‘Good. Because Mikey’s talking about fixing the holes in the walls, patching the fucking curtains on the windows,’ Frank sighs. ‘He’s not… He doesn’t wanna leave Jersey at all and I’m getting fucking restless, so fucking scared.’
‘I know. I’ll talk to him,’ Gerard says finally unclenching his stiff fingers from the switchblade, letting go of the weapon that’s resting on the ground between them in order to run his hand along Frank’s back. The rosary digs into Frank’s naked skin as Gerard pushes his hand inside Frank’s hoodie and t-shirt, fingers pressing cold kisses on warm stomach. ‘I’ll make him understand, yeah?’
Frank nods before he buries his face into the crook of Gerard’s neck. ‘Yeah,’ he mouths his agreement against protruding collarbone.
Decision settles comfortably into his chest and Gerard hasn’t felt so much in control in months. They’ll move on, find other survivors behind statelines, and kill every motherfucker that gets in their way.
But he is getting sleepy, so he concentrates on the tranquility of the evening clearing his mind from every battle plan that has seeped there in the course of the day. Frank feels solid against him, grounding him to the present, keeping him captured in the backyard amongst wild flowers and a few stray rays of the sunken sun that rebel praiseworthily against the darkening blush of the night. He has missed feeling whole, and he thinks he will savor this for as long as he can.
--
a/n: This is a standalone, but if anyone would like to tell me what happens to the guys next, I would happily read it. Anyone? Wet puppy eyes?
~ 800 words, written for September 8th, also inspired by Penelope (by Pinback) and Our Lady Of Sorrows (by MCR)
<3333 turnyourankle
Summon The Rains Now
Gerard’s taken up praying. Clutching Frank’s meerschaum rosary in his wet hands so hard that it leaves full moon impressions on his skin, he murmurs promises to the invisibles he has never really considered before.
He is dirty and cold; licorice-black hair in his eyes as he shakes on the autumn-dampened grass in a midnight blue jacket waiting for the long day to finally end. In the backyard of an abandoned terrace house, he waits for the overtly fat sun to get swallowed by the muddy ground and the nightfall to wrap them up in comforting darkness.
They’re still in Belleville, they have been for too long now and Gerard knows they have overstayed their welcome.
He doesn’t remember when it got this bad; remembers warm summers and lush apple trees instead; his and Mikey’s wooden toy swords that at some point got replaced with real ones; their mother’s quirky dimples when she smiled for the last time. His brain has blocked a good portion of memories however, memories that no one should have to live through for longer than necessary.
Meadow flowers have tempted their faith and against all odds crept into the dead, battle-exhausted land. Gerard thinks he might want to draw them if he wasn’t so tired. It’s the first time in weeks he’s even thought about the days when he was a starving artist, not a starving survivor of a holocaust.
Breathing in smoke from his cigarette, he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander. His right palm rests upon his weapon, calloused finger pads softly caressing smooth blade, the rosary still swirled around his hand.
Minutes later, Frank slumps down next to him on the grass, his partly broken jeans getting wet like Gerard’s but he looks warm still.
‘There’s frozen veggies in the house. Baby carrots or something. Mikey found ‘em while digging through the freezer,’ he says. ‘Oh and canned pork also, if you’re into that.’
Frank huddles into his soft, well-loved hoodie. His fingers curl momentarily around the tips of Gerard’s as he steals his cigarette remains. Gerard gives him a sympathetic smile.
Frank huffs a laugh. ‘Yeah, I guess at times like this I should just give up on my beliefs and eat like the rest of you.’
Gerard watches him from behind heavy lids, thick lashes and all, feeling oddly serene. ‘No- no, actually, I think maybe you shouldn’t,’ he says thoughtfully. Frank makes a half nod after a while, eyes poring over Gerard’s face like he had never really looked at him before.
‘We need to… We can’t stay here anymore,’ Frank says suddenly, flailing his cigarette hand a little desperately, ashes falling on their knees like fucked up snow. ‘We need to leave.’
‘I know- I know we do.’ Gerard’s relieved he’s not the only one thinking this. Frank looks relieved also as he throws the cigarette away. It lands on a small, mossy rock.
‘Good. Because Mikey’s talking about fixing the holes in the walls, patching the fucking curtains on the windows,’ Frank sighs. ‘He’s not… He doesn’t wanna leave Jersey at all and I’m getting fucking restless, so fucking scared.’
‘I know. I’ll talk to him,’ Gerard says finally unclenching his stiff fingers from the switchblade, letting go of the weapon that’s resting on the ground between them in order to run his hand along Frank’s back. The rosary digs into Frank’s naked skin as Gerard pushes his hand inside Frank’s hoodie and t-shirt, fingers pressing cold kisses on warm stomach. ‘I’ll make him understand, yeah?’
Frank nods before he buries his face into the crook of Gerard’s neck. ‘Yeah,’ he mouths his agreement against protruding collarbone.
Decision settles comfortably into his chest and Gerard hasn’t felt so much in control in months. They’ll move on, find other survivors behind statelines, and kill every motherfucker that gets in their way.
But he is getting sleepy, so he concentrates on the tranquility of the evening clearing his mind from every battle plan that has seeped there in the course of the day. Frank feels solid against him, grounding him to the present, keeping him captured in the backyard amongst wild flowers and a few stray rays of the sunken sun that rebel praiseworthily against the darkening blush of the night. He has missed feeling whole, and he thinks he will savor this for as long as he can.
--
a/n: This is a standalone, but if anyone would like to tell me what happens to the guys next, I would happily read it. Anyone? Wet puppy eyes?