Gerard's P.O.V
I step silently over the littering of sparse vegetation sprouting bravely from the unwelcoming forest floor. If I had a working heart, it would be racing right now. The glowing trails of sunlight cut their own path through the treetops and cast spotlights on the tiny particles dancing in the air, creating a sight so enrapturing to the eye and so tempting to the dead. Although it makes me uncomfortable to walk so close to the deadly beauty of light, I can never escape the thrill I get on the cusp of danger. Not that I really have to navigate through these glowing rays to be next to danger; the woods I call my home are situated directly on the border of a society full of spiteful humans who would not hesitate to drive a stake home through my cold heart and call themselves holy because of it.
I glide into the safety of a towering tree's stretching shadow. As I have now reached the very edge of the forest, the full white wash of sunlight encases a world seeming so far away even now it is bare centimetres from me.
A grassy hill dips away from my feet just outside the tree line, leading down briefly into a park occupied mainly by pubescent alcoholics who seem to believe that a rusting swing too small for their awkward legs is the most intimidating place for them to waste their time.
The park merges into an intersection of roads, swarming with cars spewing foul gases and pedestrians hurrying back to their houses. I am able to hear and pick up enough from this world to know that it is now after last lesson and a flurry of high school students will now be swarming in the streets, some to join the bunkers smirking on the swings.
Watching the familiar teenagers populate the town as they leave their school building a few streets away, I envy how the sun's touch browns their exposed skin. Even if it's just a forearm where the sleeve is rolled up, they can feel a star's burn directly on their warm bodies. I wonder what that feels like, to them the experience is not something to cause agonising screams like those which shatter from the white lips of so many vampires who I have seen come too close to daylight. I can feel the breeze teasing my black hair and tickling my skin, I can feel the cooling spread of raindrops when they run over me, but I can never feel the sun.
All of a sudden, a person I have not seen before enters my perceptive vision. I have not come to the forest's edge for a few weeks now, he must have arrived in that time because I a sure he could not have escaped my radar otherwise.
Like those walking with him, the boy wears a white shirt and striped tie to show he still belongs to the overly religious high school of the town. A lip and a nose ring glint hypnotically in the sunlight, drawing attention to his face... which houses one of the most beautifully straight jaw-lines I have held witness to.
I draw one hand through my uncut black hair, pushing it out of my eyes. I'm not worried about anyone seeing me, my ability to blend with the dark is one to be reckoned with and humans don't tend to do more than glance at the world anyway. Studying the newcomer, I decide I need to find more out about him. I hate not being completely aware of everything in my vicinity.
Slowly, I turn away from the lively scene and recede back into the depths of the enclosing forest. The shadows reach their limbs to meet me, embracing my lifeless form and pulling me further away from where those who walk need to breathe.
However: I, unlike most others, plan on returning.
The copse thickens the further I proceed into the forest; soon I am only finding myself needing to avoid the smallest shards of sunlight scattered in measly quantities over the ground.
Before long, I arrive at the imposing stone monument marking the entrance to the underground lair of the deceased. The gothic pillar serves mainly to give the area a more sinister atmosphere and dramatic tension, of course nobody ever forgets where the opening is. The creative and visual side to vampires is one repeatedly overlooked; it is instead replaced with highly exaggerated tales of murder and vengeful actions. We are dramatic creatures indeed, but certainly more theatrical than dangerous. We feed on blood because we need to, not because we are seeking to squeeze life from the Earth or turn it into a rotting mass. I'm sure, as in any species, there are power craving lunatics roaming about; but in truth vampires are less likely to cause a human harm than another living person.
"Gerard! Where have you been?"
Another hauntingly pale figure approaches, materialising from within the forest's dark clasp. My brother, Mikey, is the speaker.
"Just on a walk around the edges." I shrug my shoulders and stoop to slide away the vastly engraved slab dominating the lair's entrance. It comes away with a heavy grating sound, just another example of vampires' spectacular vanity.
"Oh" Mikey follows me down the winding steps into the pitch black - through which our eyes pierce easily.
I stop listening to Mikey as soon as I hear the pop of his mouth opening again, all he really needs is himself to listen to whatever crisis he has imagined up this time.
I navigate through the flickering shapes of other vampires in this maze; one main thing I regret about this situation is that we are all crammed together. I am not exactly the most liked out of our kind. My blatant disregard for the opinions of others tends to aggravate more than one sore nerve. I cannot understand why they can't be happy that I pulled through the part of my death in which I was so failing to find who I was and let opinions damage me too much. But such matters are no longer the focus of my concern. Unfamiliar boys with finely shaped faces, however, probably rank higher.
Providing Mikey with a few unenthusiastic noises of acknowledgement, I snap open the lid to my coffin and lay myself easily within it, not hesitating to close the polished black lid. Here we have another brilliant example of how vampires love to create dramatic affairs in their aura. The coffin: an entirely unnecessary but beautiful invention made probably to alleviate the boredom of an idle vampire. I believe some of my kind's vanity originates from the fact that we have no reflection and therefore seek to make ourselves appear more theatrical to those who see us better than we do.
Lying alone in the darkness, I can feel my eyelids begging to close. As much thrill as the sunlight provides me with, it never forgets to take its toll.
I most likely need the rest anyway; I am on a mission tonight.

Notes

Sooo I don't know if readers can see which author (there are two on this fic) has written each chapter so I shall tell you! This chapter and all others in Gerard's P.O.V will be written by WildAndFallen (meeee) while all chapters from Frank's P.O.V will be written by Placebo!
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