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Gerard Way: Serial Killer

Chapter Eight.

I placed the tape in between my teeth to rip off a strip. I jerked my hand, tearing me off a small rectangle of tape. I slapped the piece of clear shipping tape on the undone fold of newspaper. There, Frank's present was finally wrapped. I had put it in a Converse shoebox and wrapped it in newspaper. I'd made a bow out of some thick red ribbon I'd stolen from Dollar General a few months ago when I lived in Ohio.It was approximately 1:25pm in Iceland, so it was 8:25 here; my mental clock groggily observed. I had five minutes to get to Frank's for coffee. Perfectly timed. I started the journey out the door, present in hand, a grin on my face. I wasn't sure if he'd like the present, but at least it came from the heart. No pun intended.
I pushed the lobby doors open lightly with my ass because my hands were occupied with Frank's gift. A freezing gust warned me it was chilly outside. Snowflakes were drifting down leisurely; the usually bustling, noisy streets eerily silenced. There were none of the harmonious bird chirps or songs chiming out into the crisp, dry air. It was as if everything were frozen; stuck in that peaceful moment. Silence was a blessing and a curse. Silence screams the truth.
I instantly regret only wearing a Smiths t-shirt. Goosebumps sprouted like weeds in a garden on my skin. I shivered, attempting to shield myself from the brisk bite of the wintry breeze. I increased my pace down the walk, approaching the building ever faster.
At last, I burst into the apartment building, nose beginning to drip from the increase in temperature.
After an awkward elevator ride of me swiping the loose snot off of my upper lip, I arrived at Frank's door, eager for him to unwrap his late-by-four-days birthday gift. I rapped my fist on the door hastily.
He answered eleven seconds later, rubbing his swollen eyes, and let me in, glaring in bewilderment at the package I wielded.
I instantaneously smelled coffee as a waft of the scented air drifted to me.
"What's in there?" he yawned, gesturing tiredly to the gift. His sleepy voice was sexy. He had already brushed his hair, it seems, unless his hair doesn't get all fucked up when he sleeps like mine does. He was still wearing his pajamas; a red hoodie and dark blue plaid bottoms.
"First, let's have coffee, then you can open your belated present," I suggested, thoughtfully taking off my shoes, setting the present on the kitchen island, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out a plain black coffee mug for me and a black and white chevron mug for Frank. I lifted the full pot and poured myself some coffee, some scalding droplets plopping down onto my sock-clad toes. I poured him some coffee, too, emptying the remaining contents of the pot into his mug. I walked the mugs back to the kitchen island to a fatigued-looking Frank.
I sat at the counter next to him, sipping at my hot coffee, exchanging looks with Frank, who was mainly focused on the gift near his right arm. He was squinting at it as if he had X-ray vision, trying to contemplate the innards of the box.Of course, he gulped his coffee down quickly, a small complaint about the heat of the liquid coming afterwords.
He swiped his red sweatshirt-sleeved arm over his mouth to clear it of any remaining droplets of coffee. "Now can I open my present?" He basically bounced excitedly up and down on his stool as if he were a toddler on Christmas.
"Of course you can, Fronkeh," I smiled. I had developed that obnoxious nickname the first day I went to work with him. Which was two days ago. He hates the name, so he has resorted to calling me Gee Gee, which pisses me off. We're even.
He hastily snatched the box up off the counter next to him and tore into the paper.
"Careful now, Frankie," I chuckled, observing him eagerly tear into the newspaper. I will have to get him more gifts more often if they make him this joyous.
He came to the Converse shoebox the present was in and cautiously flipped the lid up, savoring the authentic surprise he was about to receive.
He reached in and extracted the gift, a confused look on his face.
"What I had done was.... got.... a human heart, sliced a few strips off, stretched them out, and formed them into a "heart" shape. I dehydrated it and placed it into a picture frame," I winked, "Yes. It's real, genuine, dried, sanitary, heart muscle."
Frank grinned. "Only you, Gee Gee. Only you. But that is pretty nasty."
I arched an eyebrow. "Well, do you like it or not?"
"It's creative; I'll give you that," he tapped his chin slyly, still not informing me on whether he liked it or not.
I scooted my stool closer to his. "Do. You. Like. It. Or. Not?" I asked, leaning closer and closer after each word, emphasizing my request.
Frank just closed the minute space between our faces with a kiss. In between each frantic, quick kiss, he answered. "Of... course I... love it.."
I slouched back on my seat, breaking the connection. He seemed disappointed. I smiled. I was glad that someone needed me as much as I needed them. It made me feel wanted, which was a sensation I haven't felt too often in my 23 years of living.
"We should get going, Fronkeh," I whispered, placing a hand on each of his thighs and poking his nose with mine. He giggled, nodding his head, and stood up to go get dressed.
Bringing his newly acquired gift, he bounded down the well-lit hallway and into his bedroom. I creepily followed, standing in the doorway with my back to him, waiting patiently for him to slip into some clothes. I heard the framed heart-shaped heartstrings land lightly on his mattress.
We were now working at the same place, if you were previously uninformed of that. My new fake name was now Gerald Waite. Much closer to my actual name than "Winston Smith". It was a good thing; the similarity, because if the other man that occasionally works at the record store heard Frank slip up and call me "Gerard", then he would just think it was a mistake.
I heard fabric sliding against skin behind me as Frank changed. I didn't peek at him out of respect. And nerves. I heard a drawer creak open and more fabric sounds.
"It's snowing out there, you know." I stated.
"Damn cold- I'll get a sweatshirt for ya."
I heard another drawer squeak open.
"Alright, let's go," Frank said, patting my head to get me to move. I did, and he placed a plain black sweatshirt into my arms, and I began walking down the hallway and into the kitchen, waiting for him to follow. I struggled into the sweatshirt as he swiped his keys off of the counter and and tugged on his biker boots. I laced up my Converse and walked out the door, holding it open for him, and he locked it behind him and shut it.
"Race you to the bottom of the stairs!" Frank challenged, shoving his keys into his red hoodie pocket, sprinting off to the staircase to the right. Oh, I could probably beat him on account of him being shorter than me. I took off after him, grinning, and leapt over the top stair all the way to the bottom one, putting me one flight ahead of Frank. He grimaced at me when I looked back at him and he increased his pace, fleeing after me. I ran the curve to the next staircase, using the same technique of skipping all of those steps. I heard a frantic shout behind me.
"No fair!"
I just chuckled and found my way to the bottom of the last staircase, stopping and breathing hard. Eight seconds later, Frank came dashing into view. He leapt down the staircase, but instead of intending on landing the jump, he aimed straight for me. He bashed straight into me, sending me backwards into the lobby. I landed flat on my back, chest to chest with Frank.
The receptionist looked up and stared at us like we had just detonated a fucking bomb; eyebrows raised, mouth hanging open and bifocals pushed down to the tip of her nose as if she were reading something before rudely interrupted by our fabulous entrance.
Everybody else in the lobby was in much the same state of horror.
Frank got up on his hands and knees, coughing and blushing, and then stood up, brushing himself off. He reached out a hand and offered to help me up. I grasped his hand and pulled myself up, still accompanied by the terrified stares of the bystanding citizens.
It was pissing me off. Like they'd never seen two men fly down a staircase before? I hissed profoundly at them and proceeded triumphantly to the door, flinging it open angrily. Frank scuttled hurriedly out after me. He grasped my shoulder, causing me to face him.
"What the fuck, Gerard? You don't just hiss at random people! If you act weird, people will notice," he scolded in a harsh whisper. Hot damn, he's attractive when he's angry; but I wouldn't tell him that because it might piss him off even more.
I just nodded timidly as if a schoolteacher had just lectured me, suppressing a laugh. I started off in the direction of work, Frank tagging after me. He matched my pace.
"Sorry. I forgot you're..... different." He apologized, looking up at my face, probably trying to determine my expression. I just shrugged, preventing a smile erupting onto my features. How the hell was I supposed to know that normal people did not hiss instead of saying "Fuck off", anyways? It was simpler than using words.

After the brisk trip was walked in silence, we came upon the store. I checked in as did Frank, and the old man told us we were going to organize the new shipment of records while he ran the register today. Frank lead me to the back room where they store the ready-to-be-put-the-fuck-away music.
On one side of the compact storage room, there were three empty bookcases and a clusterfuck of boxes on the other. Frank approached the clutter of boxes and lifted two up into his arms. He walked out into the main room and disappeared from my sight as he turned to the right. I grabbed some boxes and followed him.
When I caught up, he was kneeling in front of a shelf, opening a box and stacking the records next to him in short neat piles. I did the same, stacking all the albums that had artist's names starting with "A" in one pile, "B" in another, and etc. I then sorted the alphabetized stacks into even smaller 'genre' stacks. I worked faster than Frank, as if my organizing skills were on overdrive.
I heard the clicking of records clashing, then one was flung to strike me in the small of my back. I sat up straight and turned around, glaring at Frank, who pointed to the record. It was the Misfits, one of my favorite bands. It was one of my favorite albums, too; Walk Among Us. I nodded approval and tossed it back. Frank shook his head, proceeding to force the music into my open hands.
"No, Gee, I'm giving this to you. Happy birthday."
"It's not my birthday, though, my birthday's in four months and-" I started, but Frank cut me off by placing a finger to my lips to hush me. That pissed me off a tiny bit. I wanted to say what was on my mind.
"I know," he replied matter-of-factly. He handed me the record and went back to his sorting. I sat there stunned like a brainless vegetable for a few seconds, then continued my stacking, setting Walk Among Us aside.
He yawned, in turn causing me to yawn. The lights went black as I stepped out the door. The keys jingled as Frank struggled with the lock. He tried ramming the key into the keyhole as I stood by on the sidewalk shivering. I couldn't help but imagine coming up from behind him and snapping his neck and dragging his corpse away for disposal in his vulnerable, unprotected state. I shook my head and decided to get my mind off murder. I gazed around.
The snow rested in smooth piles, waiting to be lashed back into the air by a kicking wind. The streetlamp's glow added a warm shimmer to the snowdrifts. The dimming violet sky was hovering blatantly like a velvet blanket over the darkened town, all but a few stars peeping through the unlit space.
My breath billowed from my lips like cigarette smoke. Damn, I haven't had a cigarette in three weeks, mainly because I am close to bankrupt.
I heard a prominent click as Frank finally locked the glass doors. He grumbled and stuffed the keys into his sweatshirt pocket and joined me underneath the light of the streetlamp, nine crunching steps informing me of his approach.
I took a deep breath, a pang of icy hot air stinging my lungs. I was going to ask Frank on a date for this Friday. Usually, he is the one inviting me into the public, but I figured that I'd have to ask him out sooner or later.
"What?" he asked, noticing my hush.
"I was wondering.. Would you enjoy going out to dinner with me this Friday at eight o' clock pm?"
He arched an eyebrow, the shadows created from the contrast of the streetlights and the dark night dancing around his features playfully.
"Of course, Gee Gee!"
I internally growled, disgusted at the nickname. "Oh, good, Fronkeh," I ruffled his hair, "I was afraid you had plans."
He grimaced up at me, sticking out his tongue. I laughed and started to walk home. He obviously followed, matching pace with me.
"Damn, it's cold." he shivered, breath puffing upwards.
And he was right, only that he seemed colder than I was; bluish lips, chattering teeth, arms crossed...
"You want my sweatshirt? Or, well, your sweatshirt?" I quizzed. He shook his head and instead pressed himself against my side.
"Nah, I think you can keep me warm."
I cracked a smile, wrapping an arm around his middle and hugging him tight against my side. I could feel his body heat course from his body to mine and back again in a continuous cycle.
We walked in that manner with snow crunching beneath our feet until we reached my apartment building. It was 7:03 by the time I took off his sweatshirt and handed it to him and then began to enter my apartment.
Before I could step inside, Frank gripped my shoulder and turned me around, standing tall to plant a goodbye kiss on my lips.
"See you on Friday at 8." He winked as he practically sashayed down the hall to the elevator, the sweatshirt I borrowed from him in hand.
I took a deep breath and sighed, shutting the door behind me and leaning back against it, apprehensive for the outing. I haven't eaten out in twelve years. I have never eaten out with anyone at all. I was afraid the social anxiety would take me over when the waiter/waitress asked me what I was ordering.
Perhaps I should not have asked Frank out.
Friday's going to be downright dreadful.


I apologize about the late update. School sucks


i have a feeling this story hasn't been updated in years. and it sucks because this is my new faveorite fanfic.

Moonmagick98 Moonmagick98

Are you still here? This is AMAZING!

Author, you amazing! Oh, i need an update


Grrr I need an update sooon