Gerard Way: Serial Killer
-THREE MONTHS AND TEN DAYS LATER-
The date Frank and I attended three months and ten days earlier had gone better than expected. I did not freak out; Frank had ordered my food for me. It was quite pleasant as we ate joyously under what seemed like candlelight.
These past three months and six days have gone as usual: go to Frank's in the morning, work, come home, sleep (occasionally), and repeat. My hair was still white, but I was overdue for a trim.
Today is the day I mix it up. It is Valentine's Day; a holiday celebrating Saint Valentinus of Rome and how he illegally wed soldiers that were forbidden to marry and was ultimately imprisoned for it. Well, that is if you're Catholic.
Today is the day I teach the art of murder to my boyfriend, Frank Iero.
I sat next to him on my couch. It was 9:16pm. We were conversing on some subject of little interest when I silenced his thoughts by kissing him.
After the kiss, he flashed me a flustered look.
"What was that for?"
"Well, you know it's Saint Valentine's Day-"
"You don't believe in holidays, Gee." He warily replied, confused.
I glared at him, continuing. "Want to do something fun?"
"Like what, exactly?" he gazed up at my face suggestively, eyes lit up like a kitchen fire.
"Eh, you probably couldn't handle the task, anyway." I chuckled, egging him on.
"C'mon, what is it? Tell me!" He begged, tugging my shirt and throwing his legs over my lap, eager to know the gruesome activity I had planned.
I promptly shook my head, nose upturned.
"Gee-raaaarrd!" he protested.
"Fine, fine. I was just thinking," I leaned in close to him, so my lips were just faintly brushing his ear, "Murder."
He pulled slightly away, an unreadable expression encrypted into his features. Then a smile cracked across his lips. It wasn't one of those lovely, cute smiles that made his eyes glow with joy; no, this one added a crazy gleam to his pupils and was slightly crooked. His eyebrows lowered and darkened his face. He looked evil, cold, cruel.
I loved it. He seemed to enjoy my idea of fun.
"When are we going?" he asked, the smile dropping and a hardened, intrigued stare overtaking.
"I think about 11:46 would be fine."
"Do we have a victim?"
"Yeah, I have been investigating. There is this one rich man who lives downtown. He is going to the park tonight at midnight to meet someone. He's cheating on his wife," I explained, then scoffed sarcastically: "Perhaps we are doing the town a favor."
"It's pretty cold outside, Gee, so we'd better bundle up," Frank crooned. I agreed, nodding my head.
And then he kissed me. It was just a short peck on the lips, but nevertheless amused me. He popped straight up from the couch, standing in front of me and reaching his arm out to help me up. I grinned and said: "What a gentleman."
Frank just smiled back and rolled his eyes, leaving his arm extended. I accepted his offer and we went to go get ready for our "night out".
"Wait, so you have like a bunch of different tools to kill people?" Frank asked as he observed the contents of my 'murder bag'. He pulled out the long, curved evisceration knife, handling it carefully as if it were composed of glass. He plopped down on my bed, immersed in the fascination of my tools.
"Yes; all of them are not for actually killing people with, though," I then gestured to the glinting object resting in his palms, "That one's for carving out guts."
His nose crinkled as he feigned disgust; setting down the dangerously sharp tool and grabbing another.
"What doya do with this thing?" he questioned, lifting my bone saw--complete with a hand-crafted silencer.
"Oh, that's my good bone saw. The other one is louder than a fucking car crash," I answered, pulling up my tall wool socks. I walked to my closet to retrieve two sweatshirts. As I was leafing through the neat stacks of apparel, I heard a sharp gasp.
"Gerard, you drew this?"
My face drained of blood. That little shit found my sketchbook! I whipped around and observed his glinting eyes taking in the creations in my sketchbook. The sweatshirts hit the floor as I rushed to the bedside to take the drawings away, but he protectively turned on his side, giving me the shoulder as he turned the pages with black and white disgraces on them.
Frank gasped again. "Gerard! This- this is.."
I peeked over his shoulder and lay next to him on the bed in order to get a closer look. He had paused on my drawing of him that I had sketched late one night when he was asleep and I should have been. I reached over to snatch it from him, but he rolled away and sat straight up, still flipping through my drawings.
"Frank, please, give me the book and nothing gets broken." I growled, holding out a demanding hand. He glanced up at me, eyes smiling, and motioned for me to have a peek at the hyperrealistic drawing of him that I had completed last month. In the depiction, Frank was smiling, but the smile did not continue up to his eyes. His gaze showed immense hurt, betrayal, and even a little fear, but he had a fake grin plastered on his features. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes in the drawing.
"This is.. this...." he stammered, lost for words.
"....Garbage." I finished for him, growling. I snatched the book from him, slapped the cover back over the paper, and crouched to slide the book of graphite sketchings underneath my bed. It made an ugly scraping noise as it spiraled into the dark realms of 'under the bed land'.
I stood up and bent to pick up the black sweatshirts I had dropped. I walked them back to the bed and tossed one at Frank. It struck him over his face, covering it and hanging there.
"Come, gorgeous, let us get adorned in our murder gear," I chimed. Frank stood, smirking, and I chucked some black pants and a shirt in his direction.
I turned away to face my dresser as I tugged my pants off. I was as modest as a Michigander in the winter, but Frank was another story. He would walk around in the nude if he could. That thought inspired another thought.
I began sliding off my grey jeans to put on black ones, thinking that Frank and I had been together for more than 1/3 of a year, and neither of us had seen each other naked; unless chests count. Curiously and deviously, I turned around to see what Frank was doing. I instantaneously received a full flash of his bare ass; he was fully nude but facing my bedroom window. That startled me, so I whipped back around, but the surprise did not stop me from making a well-placed, cunning comment.
"Nice ass, Fronkeh," I chuckled, doing the "skinny jean dance" as I struggled into my black pants.
I heard the hesitation through the air. Then my ears practically twitched as the sound of his lips parting and the oxygen filling his lungs traveled on the airwaves. My senses were going haywire; I was about to go out and kill, so that would explain my alertness.
"You have a pretty nice ass yourself, Gerard," Frank suavely pointed out. I inwardly gasped.
"You... You have seen my ass?"
He grunted. "Uh, yeah, we've been together for a while now."
"Uh, yeah, but I can't remember any one time in which I've changed in front of you," I turned to face him questioningly, buttoning my tight black killin' pants.
He simply winked at me and slipped out of his shirt to pull on a black one. "I have my ways."
I furrowed my brow and continued to dress in black apparel.
"Come, Frank, put that skinning knife back in the fucking bag! We have to leave now if we're going to murder that man tonight," I complained from the rug by the front door, forcing my black combat boots on and lacing them up.
I heard the metallic 'ting' of the knife clashing with another inside the large dark tote bag. "I'm so fucking excited, dude! This'll be my first kill. Not my first coverup, but, you know," Frank buzzed, enthusiastic about our bloody date.
"All right, Frank, cool it. The fun comes later," I chuckled, "Zip up that bag and let's go."
Frank obliged, swinging the 'murder bag' of utensils over his shoulder and pacing up to the rug in front of me.
Looking deep into my pupils, he grinned and pressed his lips on mine. Waiting a few seconds, he retracted and took my hands in his.
"This is going to be a fucking roller coaster ride," Frank said, searching my gaze.
I arched an eyebrow.
"You enjoy using the word 'fucking' a lot when you are excited, I've noticed."
"And I don't just want to use the word, if you know what I mean," he winked. His sexual jokes and references were at an all-time high lately.
I playfully punched his shoulder and beckoned him away from the door. He shot me a confused glance.
"We will not be using the door tonight, unless you want a shitty alibi against the police if they find the body," I explained, "The staff here and the cameras would give us away. We will be exiting and entering through that," I pointed to the window on the east-facing wall, "Window."
I precatiously flicked off the lights and clomped over to the cracked glass rectangle and slid it open, peering down upon the sleeping town. "There is a fire escape about eight feet below us. Do you think you can land on it without making too much noise?" I turned back to Frank with a cocked eyebrow, awaiting an answer. He smiled and nodded.
"Alright. Hand me the bag and I will go first. Once you hear me land, give me five seconds to move out of the way, then jump down. Get it?"
"Got it." Frank replied.
"Good," I said, smirking, then I lifted one leg out the window, followed by the other, and sat on the sill. I briskly saluted him and then pushed myself off of the windowsill, landing noiselessly on the fire escape platform eight feet below my apartment window into the cold night. I stood up from landing position and stepped aside, averting my eyes up to watch Frank, breath billowing from my lips like a patient dragon. I watched as his first leg swung cautiously over the sill, then the next. He shoved himself away from the building, arms flailing formlessly on the doomed fall to the earth. His eyes were silently screaming, his mouth was silently cursing as he was aware of his fate. Fortunately, I was prepared to catch him, so I caught him in my arms as he clashed into my chest with his body, but I managed to hold on to him, bridal-style. His weight--which was surprisingly not that much-- sent me back a step into the railing of the metal platform, but I held.
He flashed me a winning grin and pecked my cheek. "Thank you, Gee."
I rolled my eyes lovingly. "Let's hope this is the last time I have to save your cute little ass."
Frank stepped out of my grasp and I lugged the bag as we continued down the iron flights of stairs, cold February air nibbling on our noses.
"Let's put on our ski masks," I said as we approached the last step of the fire escape. I produced the hats from my coat pocket and tossed one to Frank.
He slid it over his head with majestic fluidity, quickly changing his appearance from "punk boy in his 20's" to "suspicious dark-clad murderer". Frank was attractive even with his face covered; his tight leather coat and combat boots showing off a style that suited him perfectly. I was so thankful that I decided against killing him in the first place.
"Gerard? You've been staring at me blankly for the past half minute! Where do we go now?" Frank hissed. I snapped out of my deep maw of thought and observed that we were on the corner of some intersection about a quarter-mile away from the park in which we were going to target our victim.
"Oh, uh, sorry. We just keep walking in the shadows until we arrive at the park, which is about a quarter-mile down the road. Avoid the streetlights; we can't afford to be seen by anyone. You understand?"
He nodded and we kept pace with each other, slinking past the small town homes and businesses together as if we were in sync, thinking as one mind. We skirted streetlights and hid behind houses; we hopped fences and crawled under railings until we arrived at our destination.
Sorry about the late update.