Kill me or make me feel alive

Gerard’s POV
After we got back in the living room, we were met with the sight of Mikey watching mindlessly some TV show, looking bored out of his mind. How long did I make him wait? He shot a glance at us and then looked back at the television. Later on, I have finally introduced Frank properly to my brother as a good friend I’ve met at a bar, then we played some video games Frank has bought (apparently even vampires enjoy playing them). We chatted for a while, mostly me and Mikey, but we seemed to avoid any important subjects. Just a small talk about school (which I hadn’t been attending that much lately), about music and movies. When it got dark, we all agreed to drive Mikey back home with the promise I’ll eventually come back too after a couple of days when my anger towards our parents cool down and stuff. Mikey took that well so Frank drove us all to my parents’ two-storey house and dropped us off. So when I got out of the car and hugged Mikey, I absolutely did not expect him to whisper in my ear “So, when you disappeared for a few days and then came back home with a hickey on your neck… I understand now”, he pulled away, looking mischievously at me while my cheeks got so hot that I’m positive I could be used as a heater.
“That’s not-“
“Oh please, I saw the way you’re looking at each other. Just…use condoms, kids!”, he winked at me and I almost died from embarrassment “But no, seriously…take care, Gee”, he looked at me meaningfully and pulled me into another hug “You too, baby bro, take care of yourself.”
And then I let him go back home, where he belongs.
So here we are now, me and Frank, lying on his bedroom’s floor and listening to movie soundtracks. I unconsciously start singing along to a song I’ve heard somewhere, closed eyes and almost disturbing calmness. I haven’t felt so relaxed around someone for so long, not even Mikey, and I still can’t quite understand why I feel this way when I’m around Frank but I’ve come to the conclusion I may just embrace the fact that I do. He makes me feel better somehow and that’s not something I should question.
“Raw”, Frank says, pulling me away from my thoughts and singing.
“Excuse me?”, I ask, feeling dumb. Have I missed something?
“Your voice. It’s raw”, he explains not even looking at me.
“Oh um yeah…um, sorry, I get carried away easily when listening to music and I-“
“No, that was a compliment”, he turns his head to me and I do the same “you don’t hear that kind of emotion in most of nowadays singers’ voices. Yours has something deeply emotional, makes you feel the song, literally.”
“Oh”, I blush “thanks, I guess… but it’s really not that good”
“I’ve heard quite a lot so trust me on this, Gerard.”, he looks back at the ceiling while I continue staring at him shamelessly.
His wise, but still curious to the world around him eyes that remind me of a fire, ready to turn you to ashes, asking you if you’re ready to be burned but at the same time warm, just as a fireplace you can sit by, keeping you warm in the cold winter. His perfectly shaped nose and lips along with his perfectly shaped face. The smoky pale complexion that suits him so well, making him even more desirable. His shiny locks…ah, shit. I suddenly have the desire to brush my hand against his hair, to caress it. And I do, I slowly make my way to him and shyly brush my fingertips against his hair. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he tremble, but he closes his eyes contently. I continue stroking his luscious locks, twisting them in between my fingers with the music playing quietly in the background. After a while, we change positions on the floor and we find ourselves lying there almost cuddling. It’s kinda nice, I like being close to him. But hey, how selfish is that? I don’t even know how he feels about it.
“Ah, I have a, um, question…”, I speak.
“I’m listening”, he rolls his head in my direction.
“Well, I was wondering if, you know, you like, err…this”, I say, emphasizing on this.
“By ‘this’, you mean...us?”
“Mmh”, I agree against his shoulder.
“Well, where do I start? I mean… for a long time I had these thoughts, I wanted to die again and there was nothing good in my life, nothing to live for, you know?”, he goes on “But then I somehow found you and that’s the greatest thing that’s happened to me in a long time, Gee”, he then shifts a little so he can touch my cheek “…and you know what?”, he looks into my eyes and I feel hypnotized by his cold hand on my cheek, allured by the way he talks and the way his lips, not chapped like mine, nor too slimy, move perfectly, his face is too close, his energy blending with my own or perhaps even overpowering it in some way that makes me wanna lose all that’s left of my sanity and close that stupid distance between our lips. And, oh god, what a thought that is! But my self-control seems like it has vanished, so I’m just about to- “I like us, I like it very much” and with that he moves away, the intimate moment is gone, and I regain some control. I feel like I can breathe again.
Tease. He makes it on purpose, I swear! Attractive fucker.
He stands up in search of something and then, when he supposedly finds it, he sits on the bed instead of going back to the floor next to me. I turn my head just in time to see him lighting up his cigarette, long fingers not even struggling with the lighter like he’s been practicing the art of- well, the whole smoking thing for years. Which he probably has.
The fire in the end of the death stick in between his beautifully shaped lips being ignited and I hardly control myself from moaning just at the sight of him closing his eyes and lifting his head a little, elegant pale and long neck exposed to me, thin stream of smoke coming from the corner of his mouth while he’s still holding the cigarette with his lips, his hands resting lazily on his knees. I find such great fascination in just watching him do simple things, like smoking, it’s almost frightening.
When he takes the cigarette in between his fingers again, I find myself wondering if he can play any instrument. The violin? Or maybe the flute? Something that requires delicate fingers, I assume.
“The piano. The piano is what I can play, I believe.”, he speaks suddenly, scaring me to death with the preciseness of his answer. Did I ask him out loud without realizing?
“Wait, how did you-“
“You were staring. At my fingers, to be exact. I’m just…observant.”
I am impressed and all that, but I don’t quite know how to respond.
“Back in the day, it was kind of a necessity if you come from a wealthy family. It would’ve been horribly embarrassing and completely disrespectful if your parents could provide you a good education in every aspect you wish and you refuse to benefit from it. Especially if you were a male. It was almost impossible to break free from society’s norms those days”
“So you chose the piano”, I state “Why?”
“Let’s just say piano is pretentious enough for me. I’ve always liked the things that you can be good at, but you can also always improve. To perfect the piano, one needs more than technical skills and that’s why I love it so much.”
You don’t need to perfect the piano when you are already perfect in every way possible, Frank. ,I desperately want to say but don’t have the guts to do so. So I stay silent once again, letting the words slowly fade away in my mind unspoken, in hopes that he already knows what I think of him.
That night, he doesn’t go ‘hunting’, just for the sake of us being together. With me. I must say, I feel flattered but I also can’t help but be a little concerned about his eating habits and the fact that whenever I try to talk to him about it, he seems to either beat around the bush or completely ignore my questions. Also, night is when he can get out of the flat. The least thing I want is for him to feel like he should stay here just because of me.
“So, what about going out tonight?”, is what I say, carefully choosing my words.
“Do you want to go out?”
“I want you to.”
“Yeah, right…and what are you going to do while I’m out?”
“Ah, let’s see… I can watch television until I get completely brainwashed, listen to your countless CDs or maybe read some of the zillion books you’ve got here. Seriously, how many do you actually have?”, I try to lighten up the situation. Why should it be a situation in the first place? Can’t he just get out and not make me feel like I’ve handcuffed him to me?
“Gerard, are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”, he seems rather reluctant which makes me a little irritated.
“Of course I will, I’m not a child, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Gee, just- ah… I won’t be long, okay”, he softens and after looking into my eyes for a good couple of seconds he makes a step towards me which is all that’s needed for him to put a gentle kiss on my forehead while gently touching my forearm with the tip of his delicate fingers. It’s light, his soft and cold lips barely making contact with my skin but it’s still there, I can still feel it not only on my forehead, but also deep in my gut, where a bunch of butterflies have apparently made home. Is this really how it feels? One can read about it in a novel and hardly believe in this specific way of describing a temporary emotion that seems so cliché, a bunch of butterflies. But it really seems like the most accurate way to explain it.
And while I try to make all of this clearer to myself, he somehow manages to put his long dark coat on and just as I turn, he’s out of the door. I go to the window and peak through the always-pulled-down-blinds just to see him quickly blending with the shadows outside and soon disappearing into the darkness.

Notes

Hi guys, so I have a few things to say about this chapter and about the story, as a whole.
( c: merrychristmasandallthatshit by the way c:)
Firstly, I am very sorry for the long wait and for the filler chapter, all my fault. Holidays make me even lazier than usual, let’s just hope next year I will improve the frequency of updates, haha.
Secondly, I would like to thank everyone who’s been sticking by this story for so long. Each one of you is truly amazing.
Thirdly (this one is about the story), I feel like the whole thing is developing too slowly for my liking (and for most of you guys’ liking, I suppose?) so I decided to rush it a little in the next chapters…maybe... What do you think? I’ll be happy to receive some constructive criticism.
Fourthly, well, I finally have a general idea about where I am going with this story, kind of.
Comments are always welcome, no matter positive or negative (well, unless it’s absolutely non-constructive).
P.S. I’ve recently become a great fan of Sherlock so if you are a Sherlockian too, feel free to message me. I still don’t know many people who would fangirl with me so I’d be happy if you contact me. =^-^=
Love, zombie--