Letters from the Dead

Frank stumbled onto the porch, his right arm wrapped around his groceries as he fumbled for his keys with his left hand. He cursed as his keys slipped out of his hands. Then he realized that he didn’t need his keys anymore.

Gerard had gotten a new state-of-the-art security system installed for the house. Frank pressed his forefinger against the biometric screen, and then quickly keyed in the numerical password. The door swung open as Frank bent down awkwardly to prevent the groceries from falling out of the paper bag and picked up the keys he had dropped on the floor.

The numerical password was a fail-safe just in case, Agent Way had told him solemnly. In case someone cut off his finger and tried to enter the house. Frank was mid-way through laughing when he realized that his boyfriend was deadly serious. He shivered at the thought.

Sometimes, he felt like he was dating two people… Agent Way and Gerard. He loved them both, his loving, warm and passionate Gerard; and Agent Way; his responsible, protective, but sometimes emotionless and intimidating boyfriend. Agent Way scared him sometimes… but he was proud of his boyfriend. His smart and sexy Gerard, his capable, brave and brilliant FBI agent.

“Gee, I bought your favourite ice-cream! Dark chocolate delight! ” Frank called out cheerfully. “I invited Bob and Ra…”

He stopped in mid-sentence when he smelled the metallic tang of blood.

Gerard had once tried to describe the smell of blood to Frankie.

Overpowering. Nauseating. It oozes through every pore of your body, as though you are drinking it, Gerard had said.

Frankie hadn’t understood what Gerard had meant. Sure, Frank had hurt himself many times. An accidental cut, scrapes on his knees… He knew how blood smelled like. Metallic, bitter... He even knew the taste of it, when he had instinctively sucked on his bleeding finger after he had accidentally cut it while working with the knife in the kitchen. But this. This was different. This was a thousand times worse. Gerard had said that blood, copious amounts of it, smelled different.

Frank finally understood what Gerard had meant.

The smell of fresh, rapidly cooling and congealing blood crushed his senses. Dazed, his eyes watered, and he gasped. Every breath felt like he was being submerged in blood, and the stench was so strong he could taste it.

Gerard was lying, wide-eyed and spread-eagled on the sofa… His gun was lying on the floor. The blood. So much blood. Blood everywhere. Blood trickling down his smooth pale face, from his temples where he had shot himself… from his lips… Blood splattered on the black leather sofa, the coffee-table…

His eyes.. Oh, his eyes. Gerard’s beautiful hazel eyes. They were empty, void… the golden flecks that danced in his eyes when light hit them were gone…

His smile, his dazzling and loving smile… Gone.

Frank didn’t even realize that he had started screaming.

Ray had been early when he reached Gerard’s house. His stomach had been growling and he had been anticipating the feast Frank was going to prepare. It didn’t feel right to eat the food that Frank slaved over without contributing to it, and so Ray had arrived earlier to help Frank in the kitchen.

The thought of food vanished from his mind the moment he heard the screaming.

Jesus, the screaming. Ray knew he’ll never forget it. The ear-splitting, heart-wrenching screaming. Pain, anger and sorrow bled through the scream, resonating through the air like singing crystal. He shuddered, the scream curling through his toes, a full-on jolt through the spine.

“Gerard!! NO!!!”

The sound of his partner’s name jerked him into action. Horrified, his heart wrenching in terror, Ray stumbled over the pavement, propelling the metal gate open hastily. He smashed his finger quickly on the biometrix screen before keying in the numbers – Gerard had entered his identity into the security system a week ago. Just in case, Gerard had said.

His stomach twisted as he took in the scene… His partner, dead, his ivory face handsome even in death. Blood everywhere. Frank was curled up in a ball on the floor, screaming. Ray felt his emotions explode, could feel them blowing up in his face. Wrath, sorrow, anguish… He gritted his teeth, calming himself. Deep breathes, he told himself.

Like what Gerard had always told him.

He blinked back the assault of tears.

Get a fucking grip on your emotions, Ray. Get into action. NOW.

He could almost hear Gerard say the words again, a ghostly whisper against his ear. He blinked again, wiping away the traitorous tears that had slid past his cheeks.

He crammed the emotional part of him into a ball, tossing it into the back of his mind. Letting the analytical part, the FBI agent, take over, his eyes raked over Gerard… no, the body lying prostrate over the black leather sofa. Everything else was neat and in place, with no signs of a struggle.

The curl of Gerard’s stiff fingers seemed to suggest that he had used a weapon. Ray’s eyes drifted to the floor. The gun was lying on the ground, its presence almost mocking. His heart sank when he saw the envelopes and a red rose neatly arranged on the coffee table. The envelopes were addressed to him, Bob and Frank.

Possibly suicide.

Why Gerard… Why??

The ball at the back of his mind threatened to explode, and he struggled to keep himself composed.

Talk to the witness.

Ray went over to the sobbing Frank. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man. All at once, Frank thrashed violently in Ray’s arms, kicking and punching, howling and screaming for Gerard.

“GERARD, GERARD!!” He wept, every word tearing at Ray’s heart. Ray felt the anguish emanating from Frank and choked back tears as he held Frank.

“Frank! Frank!!” Ray shouted, “Look at me!” Ray grabbed both of Frank’s arms as Frank tried to hit him in the eye.

“HE’S GONE, FRANK! HE’S GONE!”

“NO!!! HE’S NOT!” Frank kicked out at Ray and he sprawled, falling backwards. “HE’S… ST..”

Ray scrambled to his feet, catching the shorter man as Frank dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

Notes

Five Finger Death Punch - Far From Home

The memories of shadows, ink on the page
And I can't seem to find my way home