A Soul I Cannot Save...

The scent of vampire pierced through Frank's thoughts like a brick through a window. It stung his nostrils and make his stomach turn. Frank was too caught up in his heavy thinking to have noticed it before.

He opened the door of his shed slowly, internally preparing to be attacked. Bert hadn't seemed hostile when he’d left, but vampires might be unpredictable creatures, Frank wasn't sure.

As expected, Bert was standing in the dark of the shed, staring with inquisitive eyes. He'd been waiting.

"Gerard isn't here." Frank said, knowing exactly what he was looking for.

"No, he's in there," Bert pointed in the direction of the boys' home. "I'm not leaving without him." He finished.

Frank didn't enjoy confrontation. Angels aren't supposed to have fears, but if they did, this would've been Frank's.

"He needs me. You haven't even been feeding him." Bert said.

"I didn't know he was-was one of.... those."

"Go ahead, say it. What is he?"

"It doesn't matter. Just leave, I'll figure something out, okay? Just go."

Frank attempted to grad Bert's arm but was met with a viscous scratch that left him bloodied and wincing in pain. He put his hand to his face. Pulling it away, he saw deep burgundy blood pooling and flowing over the sides. How fucking deep was the scratch? He thought.

Even Bert looked a bit surprised by Frank's injury. He went to touch it and pulled away sharply. He doubled over after only having touched him for a moment.

"What the fuck?!" Bert screamed.

"What?"

"Did you...burn me?" He asked.

So, that's why that happens. Frank thought.

"It's probably because you're a-you know what you are."

"Oh. That's good defense, real good defense. Can you turn it off?" He asked.

"I think so. Sometimes, when Gerard touches me or I touch him, it doesn't happen." Frank responded.

"You've burned him before? Wait, why are you touching him, anyway?" Bert asked, slowly becoming infuriated again.

"I'm his guardian angel."

"I know. That's probably why you smell so bad, right? But that doesn't explain why you have to touch him."

"Comfort, asshole. And you aren't one to talk about smells." Frank said, scrunching his nose.

"Whatever, whatever. We both smell bad to each other. Let's move on, shall we? We never broke up so he's still with me.”

“Meaning?” Frank said with an eye roll.

“Meaning, don’t put your frisky, little angel hands on him. Ever.”

Bert was saying absolutely nothing of substance at this point. Gerard certainly didn’t consider them an item, anymore, and neither did Frank. Not only that, but Frank and Gerard were destined to be together. Frank decided that Bert’s infatuation would simply have to die.

“You don’t scare me. You don’t own Gerard. And I’m not letting you see him if it makes him uncomfortable.” Bert was staring at Frank’s wound while he spoke so, Frank assumed it had completely healed.

“I don’t need your permission to do anything. You’re lucky I haven’t killed you and drank your sweet little angel blood, already.”

Frank and Bert’s petty argument lasted until 5:50 in the morning, at which time Gerard was awaken in a fit of bloodlust and seething rage.

Notes

yikes im inconsistent and this chapter sucks oops!