Hey everyone, Eve here! So, I'm home sick, for the third day in a row (I haven't attended school in seven days!) so I decided to write the Halloween fic I've had bouncing around in my head for a while. Halloween is my favorite day of the year, and you might get a hint of this if you're reading Folie a Deux, but I have a slight obsession with depressing things, and if you know me well enough as a person, it's pretty evident that I'm also a sucker for horror movies, morbid things, and serial killers... This isn't exactly the scariest fic, but it is meant to shock the reader a bit.
So, with that in mind:
I hope you all enjoy!
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PRIDE.
Frank Iero was a proud man. There wasn't much for him to be proud of, but there was his band and his tattoos and his old dog, the one that was trained so well. Frank was outgoing and bursting with energy, desperate to be the center of attention.
He led his life with an empty pride, though he denied it.
He led his life riding on the accomplishments of others, singing other people's songs and twisting the lyrics just enough to claim that they're his own, letting other people design the art on his arms and saying he had chosen every line and color, adopting the dog and claiming that he had trained it himself.
Frank was going to hell.
Frank was too proud, of course, to acknowledge this; but it was true. Frank Iero was destined for hell from the moment he was born.
Gerard Way, however, was born to be an angel. He spent his whole life working for happiness, drawing his own art and studying until his eyes hurt. Gerard made a simple life by selling his own art out of his own home, through a website he designed himself. He was a humble, shy, introverted man. He was content with the few friends he had, he was happy having his brother as his only life-long companion.
Frank's only goal in life was to be happy; Gerard's was to please.
They were a match made in purgatory.
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ENVY.
Frank watched Gerard from afar. He simultaneously felt hatred and an extreme sense of love for Mr. Way; Frank envied him, more than he had ever envied another living soul.
Gerard had a band, that often played at the same venues as Frank's band, so naturally Frank went to all of their shows. That was when he first saw Gerard.
He watched, from the bar. He studied the way Gerard moved, became intrigued by his voice. Frank became obsessed with Gerard's dark, raven black hair, and his sweet, caramel and green eyes. He watched the way he interacted with others, fell in love with his sweet smile and kind nature and the way he was always so happy to see the few friends he had.
Frank let his hair grow out. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, some days, wondering why his eyes weren't quite the same shade as Gerard's, wondering why his skin wasn't quite as pale, wondering why his voice was no where near as smooth and gorgeous and haunting as Gerard's. Frank wondered why he didn't have friends as nice as Gerard's.
Frank Iero hated himself.
Gerard was just so pretty. Inside and out and everywhere in between.
Frank thought Gerard's body was beautiful, and his brain. Frank knew that Gerard's heart must be beautiful, too.
Gerard was so pretty.
Why couldn't Frank be pretty, too?
He didn't understand.
It just wasn't fair.
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ANGER.
Frank decided that he hated Gerard, more than loved him.
It was hatred with a passion. A deep, burning, incinerating passion, that made him want to rip out his own heart and throw it at Gerard, that made him want to show Gerard, hey, look! This is what you've done to me, asshole. This is how angry your beauty makes me. You're perfect and it's just so stupid, it's just not fucking fair.
It was a hatred that made him want to kill Gerard, to steal him away, to do whatever it took to relieve his anger. Frank wanted Gerard to just stop being so damn perfect.
Frank just didn't understand. Gerard was beautiful, and Frank was so ugly. It just wasn't fair.
It made him want to rip apart his own skin. It made him want to slit his own wrists, it made him want to scream, to die, to rip out his own organs until he was as pretty as Gerard was.
Frank wanted to scream his hatred until his own lungs bursts, until the entire world was consumed with his hate and anger and regret and guilty, guilty love towards Gerard.
Frank hated Gerard because he was just so perfect. It just wasn't fucking fair.
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SLOTH.
Frank had things to do, and places to be.
But he didn't want to do any of those things, or be at any of those places.
He just wanted Gerard. He wanted Gerard's perfection and beauty and kindness, he wanted the way Gerard smiled when he was on stage, he wanted the way Gerard sung like he had a purpose.
Frank developed bad habits. He started neglecting his life, trading it instead, for Gerard's. He found out where Gerard lived (a shitty apartment, on the corner of Broad and Main,) and found out where he worked (a shitty comic book store, down on Ninth Street.)
Frank called in sick to work. He sent the dog to one of those stupid dog motel things, just so he wouldn't starve. Frank told the band he needed a break.
Frank watched Gerard, instead of doing all of the things Frank had to do, and Frank followed Gerard, instead of being all of the places he knew he should be. He sat in his car across the road from Gerard's apartment, and watched. Frank took up an interest in comics, but made carefully sure not to ever speak to Gerard while he was on shift.
Frank studied Gerard's life, while letting his own fall to pieces.
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GREED.
Frank wanted Gerard all to himself. Gerard didn't have many friends, Frank knew that, and his only family was that stupid brother Mikey of his.
Gerard spent a lot of time with Mikey. They shared an apartment.
Frank could not stand Mikey. He hated him more than he hated Gerard. Mikey spent every fucking living moment with Gerard; they ate breakfast together, they went to Starbucks and drank coffee together, Mikey worked at the comic store with Gerard, he was in Gerard's band.
It made Frank want to puke. Gerard was his. Not Mikey's.
Frank knew so much more about Gerard than Mikey ever would. Frank knew that sometimes Gerard went to the park and sat on the benches and sketched the trees when he was sad, Frank knew that sometimes Gerard went to the gay clubs instead of the straight ones, Frank knew that Gerard got so scared and depressed looking when he was alone.
Frank knew that Gerard needed him; he could see it in his eyes.
All Mikey did was hold him back, drag him down, make the sweet, beautiful, innocent man's life harder.
Frank knew what had to be done. Mikey had to leave. There was no way around this fact, there was no alternative.
Mikey Way died late one night when he had the night shift at the comic book store and Gerard did not. He was hit by a car on the walk home.
Such a tragic death, Frank told Gerard at the bar, when Gerard was trying to drown his sudden loneliness in alcohol. It was all over the papers, Frank lied, I read about it... So sorry they couldn't find the driver... So sorry...
Frank felt like he was on top of the world, that night.
He was hearing Gerard's voice up close for the first time, that sad, lonely, beautiful voice, that cried for his little brother. Frank got to touch that raven hair for a fleeting moment, when Gerard was so sad he didn't care that it was a complete stranger hugging him.
Frank was just so glad to finally be seeing those beautiful eyes up close, he didn't even mind that they were filled with tears.
Gerard blushed when Frank bought him a drink, looked up at Frank through those thick eyelashes.
He was so beautiful, so much more beautiful up close.
If Frank could take him right then and there on the bar counter, he would.
Because finally- fucking finally, Frank knew, when Gerard accepted his hug, Gerard was his. He was weak and lonely and Frank was there for him.
Gerard was his.
---
GLUTTONY.
For the first three months, Frank was the best thing that had ever happened to Gerard. He was nice, and kind, and comforted him over the loss of Mikey.
And then something changed, suddenly.
Gerard came home to four voice-mails from Frank; all angry, demanding to know where he was. Gerard frowned slowly at the phone, figuring something must be wrong.
He called Frank back, concerned.
Frank was so mad. Where had Gerard been? At the grocery store? Fuck, Gerard should have told someone where he had been.
Gerard apologized, so many times. He was sorry, he really was. He normally always told Frank when he would be home, he knew how much Frank worries.
What could he do, how could he make it up to Frank?
Frank suggested sex, almost jokingly, but there was a hard tone to his voice.
Sex?
Gerard didn't know. He'd been with Frank for a while- he knew they would get more intimate eventually, and he really liked Frank, but-
But what was the problem, Gerard? Did he not love Frank? Was he a liar?
No, no- Gerard swears, he promises. He loves Frank. He loved him.
He is Frank's. Frank says it, he tells Gerard that he is his, all his, and Gerard agrees.
He is Frank's. Completely, totally Frank's.
He belongs to Frank, and Frank just can't get enough of him.
---
LUST.
Frank came home angry, and with orders: Sit down. Strip. Sex? Fuck, yes, of course they were still having sex. That's what Frank gets in return for being so worried. It was Gerard's sacrifce to Frank for making him so concerned- fuck, Gerard was such an idiot. Didn't he know? Didn't he know how much he had worried Frank, disappearing like that?
Gerard was sorry. He cried. Sitting naked on his own bed he cried, he begged for forgiveness, he had never seen Frank this angry.
"I hate you! God, damn, Gerard, I hate you!"
Gerard cried as Frank got into bed with him. He cried, sobbed, begged to be forgiven. Frank's skin on his so warm, so comforting, but his voice was so sharp, so angry-
And suddenly, Frank's voice wasn't the only thing sharp, his tone was not the only angry thing.
A knife. Thin, sharp, silver, digging, pulling, scrapping into Gerard's flesh. A knife.
Gerard sobbed. He cried, choked, panicked, gasped for air, withered in pain- he didn't understand, he just didn't get it.
It wasn't fucking fair, Frank screamed at him. You're too fucking pretty, Gerard, it's not fucking fair.
The sheets were warm, sticky, bloody and sweat stained. Frank's skin pressed smooth against Gerard's; the knife, smooth into Gerard's spine.
Pale skin, stained red, slid against Frank's. Raven hair, dark and tangled, stuck to Gerard's lips. Caramel and green eyes stared, blankly, dimly, sadly at the ceiling.
And that voice.
That beautiful, haunting voice, crying for forgiveness beneath Frank.
Frank kissed him, and called him beautiful.
He told him he loved him. He told him about how now he could wear all of Gerard's clothes and live in his apartment and how he could finally sleep in Gerard's bed with him.
And Gerard; kind, patient, lifeless Gerard?
He didn't argue, and Frank knew he finally had something to be proud of.