It's something I've been doing for a long time. It comes easily to me, and I need it. I long for it. I think about it all the time. It's something that never, ever, escapes my mind. Because I live for it, I breathe for it. It's my everything, it's everything I have, all I ever will have. It comes easily to me, the practice from past years making it so unexplainably easy. I don't even bother crying anymore. I've long since stopped thinking about their terror, their horror, as their nightmares come to life, all I can think of is satisfying my own taste, my own desires. Because they don't matter, there are millions more where they came from.

My life, as it it, is dedicated to destroying others. It's not for the fame of it, and it's not for the money, but more for the bodies I have claimed. It's what I live for, and without it I wouldn't be alive. It's really, in all honesty, quite simple. It makes my job so much easier, knowing that I can't skip out, because the smell of rotting flesh and decomposing bodies is something my body craves. Even when I don't have a job, I kill often. It's a sport I've grown used to by now.

The killing is my thorn, it's what makes me so undesirable. The inability to stop killing. It's one of those things I just can't help but do. You have things like that, everyone does. Mine is just more...extreme. Because I kill. And it's not that I love it. It's that I need it, something I will never forget. No one will ever forget the way I look when I kill them, hungry and relieved, an odd mix that makes me only that much more threatening, that much more terrifying, that much more insane.

So it's natural that I've given up my humanity now. Because I'm evil. I was born this way, and there's nothing anyone can ever do about it. So I might as well do a helluva good job. I'll be doing this forever.

I don't feel any mercy, in fact I chuckle, as I pull back my arm, and the extension of my arm, a wonderful wood and metal ax, glints in preparation for my hunger, my thirst, my swing. I take the first swing- the girl screams in agony, pure agony. I strike again, and again, and again, until she's a bloody mess. Not easily identifiable. Her previously blue, bugged out eyes are indistinguishable from the rest, her screams dead in her torn up, slashed throat. The poor girl, barely able to scream as I massacred her life. I hack and hack, even after she's log gone, splitting her body into uncountable different parts. An unidentifiable pile of blood and bones. Nothing of worth left.

I've never been caught, and I never will. It helps that I'm ambidextrious, so I can use the same weapon twice without the authorities suspecting the same person. Me. I've killed so many people. It's laughable.

I've become a master of killing, an art I've come to perfect. I strive to succeed, it's become as normal as anything else. It's always interesting, the way people squeal in horror, or beg for their lives, knowing it themselves that I would never let them go. Just vain efforts, going through the proper motions.

The way they ask if I'm going to kill them. It's almost laughable. They know I will. But they hope, and I should give them credit for that. Hope is something I lost long ago. But they don't seem to understand. Their pain is what I desire. It's really that simple.

I chuckle slightly, wrapping my scarf around my face. I'm already rich from all the money I've made on other jobs, but the payment for this one is always welcome. I'll get it, but I have to kill her entire family first.

(End Prologue)

I sigh, standing outside the now closing bar in which my job takes me. It's a family run business, and I'm meant to kill the mother, the father, two twin girls of around 20 years, and a boy of around 13. This should fill up my thirst for a while. I chuckle. Who am I kidding? I'll have killed again in two days. It's not really something I can control.

I look at the wood door, deciding on how to enter. With a bang? Or quietly? They're both fun ways to work, and I can enjoy the hunt more if they run. But if they get away, they might tell the police. But that would be more fun for me, running from the police. it might grow old after a while, though.

I pull out my gun, checking how many bullets I have. Six. It's an old gun, and that's my best excuse. This was the first gun I had ever shot someone with, though. Couldn't bear to get rid of her. I do, of course, have three back up guns stored in various places around my body in case Lucy (my gun) decides not to work, or I run out of bullets.

I shoot the lock on the door, then kick the rickety thing open. Five bullets left. The room is hazy from the fireplace in the corner of the room, the semi-light very ominous. There are two women cleaning tables, a man cleaning glasses at the bar, a young boy sweeping. One of the twins is missing from this, I realize as their heads swing towards me.

"Hello." I start off, firing a bullet quickly into the head of the man at the bar. Four bullets left. "My" I say, letting lose another bullet, and I am rewarded by the violent spray of blood coming from the accounted for 20-year old's left temple. Three bullets. "Name is" I add, firing again, grinning as the bullet sticks into the old woman's chest. Two bullets remain. "Gerard." I grin, pulling the trigger, fully knowing the price of my evil. The bullet lodges into the boy's stomach, so he'll slowly bleed to death. If he lives that long.

"Where is your sister?" I ask the bleeding boy. I have one bullet left, and I'm not going to waste it on him. It's for his sister.

"I don't know!" The thirteen year old spits at me, and I frown. This boy is strong. Not too strong, though. I dig my fingers into the bullet wound, and he screams, writhing in pain.

"Are you sure you don't know?" I ask, my voice a bit too cheerful for sanity. I pull me fingers into his meaty torso, taking with me the bullet I shot in.

"U-Upstairs!" he gasps, panting heavily, tears falling from his eyes. I smile sweetly.

"Thank you, sugar." Snap! Ooopsy daisy, did I just crack his neck? That's so sad! I chuckle at my own little joke. It isn't his fault he's related to a whistle-blower who screwed some big company. I mean, that's what this job is about. Revenge on a man by the massacre of his family. I love the logic of some people. The whistle blower is already dead. Killed her myself.

I sigh, I have one bullet left. I better make Lucy's last shot count. But it's not as if I've ever missed, so I doubt there will be a problem.

I slowly make my way up the rickety stairs, humming to myself, a song called Heads Will Roll by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. "Off with your head, Dance 'till you're dead, Heads will roll, Heads will roll on the floor" I sing out, letting the twin I'm hunting know I'm her now. I want her to be scared, it's more fulfilling this way. I hear a muffled breathing once I reach the landing. I look down the dark wood hallway, and take an immediate right, into a brown doored room from where the breathing's coming. I fling the door open. I grin. The girl is huddled up behind a bed, out of sight. But I still know where she's chosen to hide. Hiding in a corner never helps, stupid girl.

I slowly walk over to the opposite side of the room as where I entered, knowing full well she'll try to attack me, scared out of her mind at the suspense. Sure enough, as soon I'm within her eyesight, she lunges at me. I push her back into the corner, expecting this.

"Don't kill me!" She begs, tears running down her face. She's shaking, sitting on the floor in a look of prayer. Prayer that I won't kill her. A prayer that won't be answered.

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask lightly. There's no way I'll stop.

"Don't you want to go to Heaven?" She asks, desperate. I shrug.

"I know the price of my evil." I say, practically obliterating her plea for her life.

"But...Doesn't it hurt to know you belong in Hell?" She asks, shaking in her high heels. Her brown hair in her face, tears streaking her face. God, she's a mess.

I laugh, putting my gun to her head. "Nothing stops the madness, haunting, yearning, right before I pull the trigger." I smile. BAM! And she's a dead, ugly, disfigured body strewn across the floor. I hear a thump in the hallway, so I turn and fling open the door, revealing a small boy, a teenager likely. He's beautiful. He has wavy, chin length black-brown hair, huge chocolate and green melded eyes, a lip ring and a nose ring. He's shaking, and bolts down the hall once he sees me.

"Stop, or I'll shoot!" I yell, training my gun on him. He stops in his tracks. Idiot. He might have gotten away if he'd continued along, Lucy's out of bullets.

The boy slowly turns to face me, eyes wide and shaking in fear. I walk closer to him, and lead him down the stairs, gun to head. Once we get to the door, I put one arm around his waist, the other, the one with the gun, pointed at his back.

"Scream for help and I will kill you." I whisper. I should have killed him already. We walk silently, him still shaking as we walk along the deserted streets to my current apartment.

"Sit." I command, once we're inside, pointing to a beat up brown couch. "Don't even think of running." I tell him. He's started crying by now.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks quietly.

I shrug, putting my gun down on the table, taking off my coat. He, of course, grabs it, pointing it at me. I chuckle slightly. I knew he'd do that.

"Why are you laughing?" He asks, clearly confused.

"Go ahead, pull the trigger." I shrug. He does, only to be faced with the click of an empty barrel.

"I-it was empty?" He asks, clearly astounded. I nod. He bolts to the door, only to be snatched up and then shoved against one of the deep red walls by none other than me. I pin him to the wall, making his escape improbable.

"Don't even think of leaving." I hiss.

"O-okay." He gulps. I hold him to the wall a little longer, merely enjoying the feel of his skin on mine.

"What's your name?" I ask softly, still not letting him up.

"F-Frank Iero." He stutters, then a look of horror crosses his face.

XX Frank's P.O.V. XX

Oh God, why did I tell the insane murderer my name? Now he'll be able to track me if I run! This can't be good. It's probably also not good that even though he's going to kill me, all my immediate thoughts concern either his breath on my face, his hands around mine, or his intense hazel gaze. Not to mention his...

"Frank, hm... That's a common name." He says, frowning slightly as he interrupts y dirty thoughts.

"My friends call me Frankie!" I blurt out. His eyes light up.

"I like that. Frankie..." He seems to mull it over in his mouth. "My name's Gerard." He smiles. Oh God, if he's telling me his name he must be about to kill me. I feel my tears start to well up. "Why are you crying now?" He asks, taking note of my tears.

"Because you're going to kill me." I bite my lip, looking at the floor to my left.

"No, I don't think I will." He gazes over me. "Yeah...I promise I won't."

XX Gerard's P.O.V. XX

Ah, shit. Why did I have to promise him that? As a rule, I don't break promises. So now I can't kill him. I'll have to take him with me. I can't leave him, I gave him my real name. He's too beautiful for me to let anyone else kill him. And it would violate my promise. Sure, I said I wouldn't kill him, but if I get someone else to do it it would be dirty.

Listen to me, after all I've done, all the blood on my hands, breaking a promise terrifies me. But killing is easy. Dealing with humans is not. I've always somehow screwed it up. But I've never broken a promise, and I intend to keep it that way.

Frankie's eyes widen in shock. "Then what are you going to do with me?" He asks.

"Hm...I'm going to take you with me." I decide. If it's possible, his eyes grow even wider.

"You're going to teach me to kill people?" He asks. I shake my head, fighting back uncontrollable laughter.

But I can't help it. I giggle. "No, no no!" I laugh. It's been a long time since I've had a good laugh, even if I'm pinning the source of my laughter to a wall in my temporary abode.

"Then what?" He asks.

Once I'm finally giggle-free, I answer. "I don't know, just keep me company. We'll be going places where they don't speak English, so it'll be difficult to run away. Besides, you have nothing to fear from me. I promised you I wouldn't kill you, and I never break a promise."

"You didn't say you wouldn't hurt me." He says quickly, his eyes darting to mine, then back to the floor.

I sigh. "That's not a promise I can make. Though I can say that if I hurt you, it won't be on purpose." I say, though it doesn't seem to do much, good or bad.

"Why would you hurt on accident?"

"Well, it'd be an accident, so I wouldn't really do it on purpose." I say.

"But you think it's likely." He says flatly, staring straight into my eyes.

"Um, yeah... Well, it's similar with burning toast. I don't want to do it, but I somehow do." I say, un-pinning him from the wall. "If you leave, though, I will hunt you down." I promise, locking our eyes so he knows I'm dead serious.

"O-okay!" He squeaks.

XX Frank's P.O.V. XX

Aw shit. I'm fucked. I have an insanely gorgeous, insane, likely homophobic man holding me captive for forever, and though I'm scared, I don't notice as much because of the utter hotness coming from him. I hope he keeps his word. I wish I could tap his perfect ass, though. I wouldn't really mind dying for that...

(End Chapter 1)

Gerard's P.O.V.

I pull Frankie through the airport, threatening him the whole way. I've only had him a day, and I know some of his weak spots. His parents are dead, died seven years ago. Well, they were murdered. Brutally. He was hired help at the bar, in Foster Care with that family. I killed him, so he is my problem now. At least he's a cute problem. The way he looks when he's scared, almost makes me just want to eat him, one big, scared Frankie sandwich. I've never eaten a person before. I wonder how he would taste...

We board the airplane, first class seats right next to each other. Italy. Because I speak decent Italian and he doesn't. We'll be on the country side, that's where the man I'm supposed to kill lives. I haven't killed anyone since yesterday, and I'm hoping this 9 hour flight will land soon. I don't want to kill anyone on this plane. That might be suspicious.

I sigh, resting my head back, looking up at the buff colored smooth ceiling.

"Um...Gerard?" Frankie asks.

"Yeah?" I sigh. We're alone in first class it's such a small plane, so he can, sadly, ask whatever he'd like.

"What first got you into killing people for money?" He asks. I sigh again. I can't really share the whole story. Hell, I probably shouldn't tell him any of the story! But for some reason, I really want to. I haven't felt this way since...No, I'm not going to think about that.

"Well, I started four years ago. I took my first kill seven years ago." I start, only to be rudely interrupted by Frankie.

"How old are you?" He asks, eyebrows scrunched together.

"I'm 18." I say. He gasps.

"But you seem so much older!" He exclaims. "You're only two years older than me!"

"I seem older because of the mystery I surround myself in, and I'm usually around adults. I stopped hanging out with others my age after I first killed some one." I admit. I was 11 when that happened.

"What happened with your first kill?" He asks. I bite my lip. I can't tell him the truth about this. I can't tell any human the truth about this.

"My first kill?...I...didn't even know it was happening. I killed a man and a woman, and a child. I didn't do it on purpose, but I still did it." I tell him.

"How do you accidentally kill three people?" He asks, clearly confused. What can I say? I'm a confusing person.

"There are ways." I say cryptically, just to irk him. he's cute when he's trying to figure things out, and what can I say? There are only two years between us. If I wasn't a cruel, unhinged and emotionless serial killer things might work out. But I am, so they won't.

"But...Urgh. Fine. Do you name all of your guns? Yesterday you called that empty one Lucy." He asks.

"No, I've named two. Lucy, I named because she was the first gun I'd ever shot someone with. I named another one, too. Micheal."

"Why did you name it that?" He asks innocently.

"Because it's the gun I killed my brother with." I miss Mikey. I'll always miss Mikey. It's not his fault I lost control. He didn't know the truth behind the reason I kill.

~Time Lapse~

We get off the plane, and I'm hungry as Hell. In multiple ways. I buy Frank and I sandwiches, him a cheese and me a turkey. Did you know he's a vegetarian? That surprised me.

We get a taxi to the place where we're staying, a little cottage overlooking the sea. It's right next to our target's.

"Frankie, I need you to stay here." I tell him. "I'm going out."

I leave the house, and hide behind some foliage across the road. Ten minutes after I've left, I see Frankie attempt to escape. Idiot boy.

I, of course, grab him, and bring him back into the house.

"Idiot." I say, locking him to one of the beds with some spare chain I happen to have. "Now I have to lock you up."

He's crying again, but it's his fault. He tried to leave. He's good company, I don't want him gone yet. I leave again, confident that Frankie won't be able to get away. I am, after all, excellent at locking people up.

I go into town, searching for a victim. I need to kill, and I need to do it soon. If I don't, things will get very ugly.

I find someone, a young girl, walking down the dark alleyway alone. Not a good idea in any part of the world. I quickly overtake her, throwing her harshly to the ground. She pleads for her life, but I don't care. I need this, this is my real nutrients. It's what I desire. It's what keeps me going, it's what keeps me from massacring everyone. Just one death for now, and I'll be fine tomorrow. Then I'll have to hunt again. A sport it is, a hunt, but it's filled with hate, and revenge. The girl screams as I drive a wooden stake through her heart. I made one earlier today. I know she's not a vampire, but I always thought it would be nice to practice with a stake in case I ever needed one.

I hum softly while I pull the stake from her body, throwing it into a nearby trash bin. It will be found, no doubt, but they won't be able to trace it to me. They never can.

I return home to Frankie, untying him.

"Why are you covered in blood?" He asks as soon as I pull the gag from his mouth.

I look down, realizing for the first time I'm covered in blood. "Nothing much." I say nonchalantly.

"Did you finish the job?" He asks, a bit sadly and hopeful. He's conflicted about me. But then, who wouldn't be?

"No." I say. His eyes slowly look sadder than they already do.

"Then why is there blood on your clothes?" He asks, frowning.

"Just some local girl." I shrug.

"Gerard! You shouldn't kill people you don't have to." He says, anger flashing across his face.

"You're right. But I don't kill people I don't have to. Don't think about it though, it's a secret you're never going to learn." And with that I smile, and exit stage left.

X FRANK'S P.O.V. X

What did Gerard mean, he doesn't kill people he doesn't have to? He killed an innocent girl tonight. And now he's cleaning himself up, without a care in the world. I'm amazed, with the amount of ignorance towards his clothes that he's never een caught. And he was only gone for less than an hour. What's his deal? I know he's insane, but how has he tricked himself into believing killing is okay? And that he has to do it regularly. Could he be schizophrenic? You'd think he would have let something slip if he was schizophrenic though, wouldn't you? And he's been killing for seven years. That's a long time to be killing people. He was, what, 11 when he first killed. And 14 when he started making money off it. What happened when he was 11, though? What made him tip over the edge, and "accidentally" kill three people? The more I know about him, the more it confuses me.

I'll just have to figure it out, then. Because there has got to be some, deep, dark, and possibly dangerous secret he's keeping. Something he doesn't want anyone to find out about. Something...catastrophic, that will destroy everything anyone believes of him.

Because Gerard Way is a mystery I will solve. No matter what, I will know what tortures his mind, makes him what he is. And that's a promise.

(End Chapter 2)

Gerard's P.O.V.

"When are you planning on killing him?" Frankie asks, biting his lip. We're in the town, at a small cafe, stalking my target like a discreet fan girl. I'm used to it, the stalking and killing, but Frankie doesn't like it. He'll have to get used to it, I plan on keeping him for a good while.

"Hm...Within the next day, it's likely that he'll be found dead." I sigh. "We can't stay here long. With my blood lust, this population will be devastated if I stay... we need to move to a big city, where death is more common and I can kill freely."

"That's cruel. Killing people. But I'm curious as to why you care if the population is decimated or not. I mean, how many people have you even killed?" He frowns at me.

"Two thousand, two hundred and eighty-seven."

Frankie gasps. "That many?"

"Yes, that many." When you kill someone at least twice a day, the numbers start to add up. (A/N There is math behind the figure, I know secrets you don't XP) Add in the extras from my job...I've killed a lot of people. I'm not ashamed; it's how I was meant to be.

I leave money on the table, following my target, getting up just after him. Frankie and I follow him, buying food and scarves along the way, appearing much like the few tourists around.

We follow me target to the-groan-public bath. His house has a bath, but he must like the giant tile swimming pool like baths. We follow him into the bathhouse, paying our fees and the target paying his. I sigh as we walk into the bathhouse. Great. My skin is going to show. The reason I always wear long sleeves and pants is going to be on display. I'll have to make sure Frankie doesn't see. Why should I care? Because that boy is into meddling. I think it's like, a hobby.

We undress...(excuse my brain for a moment while I stare), and enter the bath area, me guiding Frankie from behind, so he can't see my...ugly. All my hate, my hurt, my vengeance.

I quickly find myself in the tan tiled pool bath, the steamy water covering me up to my mouth, same bath as my target, leaving Frankie standing on the green and tan patterned tile floor. I would pull him in, but that would expose my skin. By ugly, defaced, vandalized arm.

X Frank's P.O.V. X

Gerard pushes me in front of him in the bathhouse, and plops himself down in one of the three baths before I can even look at him. Oh God, does he suspect I'm gay? I hope not. I don't know how he'll react. I never know exactly how he'll react.

I silently lower myself into the bathwater, the awkward between Gerard and I somehow growing. Once I'm fully in the water, it only comes up to my chin, and I realize Gerard must be slouching, because the water is coming up to his bottom lip, and he's a good six inches taller than me. I wonder why.

I try slouching, too. Nope. No wonderful insight. And Gerard usually sits and stands straight.

Why are you slouching so bad?" I ask him quietly.

"Oh, erm, I, um..." He bites his lip, obviously trying to find a decent answer. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?" he asks. I almost laugh at his failed response.

"It is bad posture, and you usually sit up straight." I chide, stating my past observations.

"Yeah... Well, the only reason I don't usually slouch is because clients want someone who looks professional, and slouching doesn't seem professional. Sitting up straight gives off the appearance of confidence, meaning past success." He explains. I don't doubt it's true, but I think there's something more.

"Riiiiight...So what's your real reason?" I ask, sliding over right next to him, leaning in so our faces are a mere six inches apart. I have to fight, the urge to get lost in his eyes, but I'm soon relieved of the battle as he flinches away from me. A look of panic in his eyes, he distances himself a bit from me, making sure to stay under the water. Who would have thought someone so comfortable with murder would flip out over such a simple question.

"It's nothing..." He averts his gaze from me, deciding to look onto his target, who's relaxing in the hot water.

"Are you uncomfortable with your body?" I mock. No way someone like him, who looks like a fallen angel, is uncomfortable with his gorgeous body.

"Yes, now leave me alone." He mutters, after thinking for a minute.

"You're the one who forced me here against my will." I remind him, smirking. I'm surprised at how relaxed I've become around him the last day.

"I really have to stop making promises." He sighs, a frown on his soft, beautiful pink lips. I assume they're soft, as I've never actually touched them...

I consider his words for a moment. "It would be in your best interests to stop making promises, yeah."

He sighs again. I think it's going to become a regular thing. Gerard looks around the bathhouse, and I realize it's empty, save for Gerard and his target, and, naturally, me.

"Frankie, why don't you go get changed..." He asks, slightly distracted. I eagerly nod, a chance to escape. He chuckles, focusing back on me. "Oh wait, you'd just run away. Why don't you stand in that corner, facing the wall?" He asks. I obey the command, walking to said corner.

I hear a splash in the water, and a startled yelp, water being hit, no doubt by convulsions of Gerard's prey. I don't turn to look. I can't, my body is frozen in fear. I hear riiiips of skin being pulled and mangled, and I realize I really don't want to be the cat that curiosity murdered.

Suddenly there are hands on my shoulders, and I yelp, screaming bloody murder. I try to turn around, but I can't, a mixture of the hands on my shoulders and my shaking body.

"Lets go get changed." Gerard whispers in my ear. I nod shakily, and he leads me towards the changing room. But before we get there, I see some of the horror.

A hand is on the ledge, surrounded by waves of red, the red snaking out further into the pool. But it's really the hand. It's cut up and bloody, most of the skin peeled back and even some bone apparent. How did Gerard manage to do this with his bare hands?

I put a hand over my mouth, bending over; I throw up my lunch onto the tile floors.

Once I'm done, Gerard pulls me up, still invisible to me, and leads me into the changing room. I realize I'm crying as I pull on my clothes, violently shaking hands making it difficult.

"Why are you crying?" Gerard asks, probably setting a record for drying off and changing quickly. He's just noticing my tears, and he reaches out to touch me, but I jump away, falling down away from him...the monster.

XX Gerard's P.O.V. XX

I'm confused. Why is Frankie puking and crying? He seemed fine earlier. I extend my arm to wipe the tears of his face, and he flinches back, falling onto his cute little butt.

"G-get away from me!" He cries, violently shaking and still missing a shirt. I go to help him up, but he frantically tries to get away from me. He's scared. Oh God, what did I do now? Did me killing that man upset him so? He didn't have such a problem when he knew I killed a town's girl. He knows I kill. It couldn't be that, could it?

"Frankie, what's wrong?" I ask his softly, my brow furrowed.

"You're a monster!" He yells at me, breaking into a hysterical fit of tears, crying like there's no tomorrow.

I don't dare approach him; I let him cry it out. I've been called worse, but somehow this hurts the most.

He hates what I do, everything about me.

If I were he, I would too.

I wait for him to stop crying. "We should go." I say simply, quietly, in a breath, barely a whisper.

He nods slowly, and we start to slowly make our way to our house, the setting sun red and ablaze, lighting up the sky like the passionate hate he now holds for me.

"Frankie, you know I kill people." I start. We're about a ten minutes walk from our house now, and I'm trying to mend the tare I've made in his ease around me.

"That wasn't murder! That was torture! I could hear it, the riiip of the flesh being torn, the convulsing, then the blood in the water, oh God, the hand...The hand." He claps his hand over his mouth, and runs over to some roadside foliage. Soon I hear him heaving up his stomach's contents, smell the awful stink of the putrid half digested food and stomach acids and lining.

"Frankie..." I say, once his up-heave is over.

"Don't say anything, Gerard!" He yells. "You're a monster, who kills people and enjoys it!" He yells, and as much as the insults hurt, it's nothing compared to the anger he's now responded from my body and mind.

XXX Frank's P.O.V. XXX

Gerard pushes me to the ground, and sits on my torso, pinning me down, his eyes filled with rage and... Hurt.

I can feel his breath, hot on my face, as he leans his face over mine so they're merely centimeters apart. His breath is hot and a bit shaky- mad. He's mad. He should be, he's an awful person.

"You can say whatever else you want to about me but never, ever say that I enjoy killing people." He whispers, with such an intensity I'm shocked is even possible, with a face full of fury.

"O-okay." I stutter, caught by surprise. Yet another piece that doesn't fit in the Gerard puzzle.

(Chapter 3 end)

Frank's P.O. fucking V.

Gerard's on top of me, a look of anger plastered across his face. What does he mean, he doesn't enjoy it? All evidence points else where, his actions speaking in tones his mind can't seem to comprehend. He acts like he lives for it, but claims he doesn't.

It's a lie. Of course he enjoys it. He's a sick human being, and that is the only way to rationalize it, the only conclusion I can seem to reach.

Suddenly I feel an unknown wetness on my face, and I realize there are tears dripping off Gerard's face onto mine. He's crying. Gerard is crying. The tears barely stay in his eyes before falling, replaced by new ones almost instantly. I don't think I've ever seen so many tears fall at once, in the span of a few seconds my face isn't at all dry, but very wet from salty tears.

What happened to the mysterious, deadly and composed Gerard who took no hurt in the hunt, in bringing people's lives to an end? Who skinned a man with his bare hands? Who killed a whole family mercilesly, playing with them the whole time?

Gerard climbs off me, wiping his face dry with his long black cotton sleeve.

I get up after him in silence, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. What he just meant, it can't be true. Because after all he's done, all the bodies lying in a grave because of him, all the blood on his hands, how can he expect me to believe he didn't just do it for fun? My brain, even focusing all it's attention on one pale, mysterious and very confusing Gerard, just can't seem to process what he just said. It's like I'm a broken disk, forever replaying.

"Gerard..." I start, as we start to make our way back to the hose again. "What do you mean?" I ask quietly. Great. Now who's comforting who? But I can't help forget of the dead man in the presence of Gerard's tears. But I can't help it. Gerard's just so damn...complicated, mysterious and undeniably hot.

He sighs. "Never mind. Say I have fun while kidding if you fucking want to." He shrugs. But he swore. A legit swear, too. It's his mistake, letting me onto the lie, because he tries to keep decent language, to impress his clients or some such.

"You're obviously upset." I say, stating the quite obvious. I jog, catching up to his even and wide strides. I don't even think about running, and the fact that I probably could. He's got me wrapped around his finger, and he doesn't even realize it.

"I'm not upset." He says quickly, frowning a sideways sort of frown.

"Uh-huh." I raise my eyebrows at his stubborn protest.

"What happened to the crying and hurt Frankie?" He mutters.

"A confusing, almost hurt murderer haunts me more than a dead man, who was probably far from innocent." I reason my response, it's a half truth, after all. The other half is that I really just want him to stop crying, and never do it again.

He chuckles, a bit bitterly."He was."

"Who? What?" I ask, confused now. I got too lost in my thoughts.

"The man I killed. Far from innocent. Stole everything from (reasonably) innocent people. And I mean everything. Their homes, their money, life's savings...you name it. I think a few of the victims committed suicide." He sighs. "That man almost makes me look like a decent excuse for a human being." A bitter chuckle from him.

"Gerard, you confuse me." I sigh, shaking my head.

"How so?" He asks, his turn to be lectured.

"Well, at first I thought you killed for sport-" I start.

"I do." He interrupts. He's lost me again. I sigh, adding this little fact to my little pocket bible on the mysterious Ways of Gerard.

I carry on. "Then I thought it was for the money, when I heard you got payed for the massacre in the bar-"

"Everyone needs money." He cuts in, shrugging.

I sigh at the further interruption. "Then when you killed that girl in town I thought you did it for fun. Now, i just don't know what to think."

"That's fine." He suggests.

"No Gerard, it isn't. You just made your what, two thousand and seventh kill? And you tell me-"

"Two thousand, two hundred and eighty eight kills." He whispers.

"You've killed that many people and now you tell me it was never for fun?" I sigh in frustration.

"Not for a minute." He says.

"Then WHAT?" I yell, unable to stand his vague-ness any longer.

He's silent for a moment. Then, finally, a squeak of an answer. "Necessity."

"How the HELL is killing a fucking INNOCENT girl fucking NECESSARY?" I yell at him.

"It just fucking is! It's not something you, or anyone else will EVER understand!" He yells, opening the door to our Italian home. It's a rental, but still.

"Try me!" I yell following him to the living room.

"I-I can't" He seems surprised by this, that he can't tell me. It's most curious indeed. Like he can't believe the words he yelled at me. "I can't tell you. I can't tell you anything." He bites his lip, plopping down onto the small two person sofa.

"You sure you can't tell me anything? Not even little nits about your life? What's your favorite color?" I ask, sitting down next to him.

"Red." He responds, no hesitation.

"Red for revenge." I mutter under my breath. "What about your family? What are they like?" I ask with a smile.

"They're all buried under the earth." He whispers.

"I'm sorry." I pat his shoulder. Maybe it's why he's so screwed up? Family violently murdered only deranged son left? I turned out fine...right?"How'd they die?"

"I killed the." Of course he did. Scratch the parents violently murdered deranged son theory off the list. It was really my only theory, too. Sad. I look at Gerard's face, and I realize there is real, honest sorrow bringing his features down, a mask impenetrable by anything but the will of his heart and mood.

"Oh... but you loved them?" He nods.

"I loved them very much." He says.

"Then why... did you kill them?" I ask quietly.

"It was an accident." Silent tears drip off his face, in a moment of pure pain, pure sadness. I put my arm around his thin frame, holding him while he cries.

"It was my bother first..." He manages between now starting sobs, heart breaking things that make you want to hug him to you endlessly, make the obvious hurt stop. "I didn't know what it was then, what I needed...and before knew it, he was dead. His blood stained the sheets..." he cries. I pull him into me, his face on my chest, my arms wrapped around him, him practically on my lap.

"It was just...A knife in my hands..." He cries, then violently sobs into me. "My mother came, saw him, and me..." He struggles with the words, unable to stop his tears. "I didn't mean to kill them, I really didn't!" He pleads with me. I rub circles on his back.

"I know, I know..." I whisper. But I wonder. How can someone with so much blood on their hands seem so innocent, so vulnerable? Not even ten minutes ago it wouldn't be a stretch to believe he would snap my neck without a blink. Now I can't imagine him hurting a fly, not the person I've seen until now. Where are the smirks and murder?

Now, all that's left is an emotional heap of gorgeous sitting in my lap, curled up against me, all but begging for comfort.

He looks up at me, brown-hazel eyes wide with hope. "I know you didn't mean it, Gee." I make up the nickname, hoping it'll help put him at ease. Hoping it'll stop the horror that he feels so strongly it almost makes me want to cry for him. I don't know much about him, but I find I'm believing him, that he didn't want to kill his parents, as impossible as it sounds. I trust him, for an unknown cause. MAybe it's because he's killed so many people, yet still I'm alive.

He's stopped crying, and is simply leaning against my chest, eyes wide and staring into mine, I realize. His hand has also made it's way to my chest, somehow. I blush, realizing how close we are, that he's sitting on me and the whole ordeal.

And suddenly, the sweet contact is broken.

"Sorry." He mutters, jumping off of me and scampering, likely to his room. Leaving me alone, a prisoner to my own thoughts.

XX GERARD'S P.O.V. XX

I can't believe I just did that! I cried in front of Frankie, and I almost kissed him! I pace back in forth in my room, unable to get over the fact that I just unloaded a lot of emotional baggage on my amazing travel prisoner. A prisoner whom I find myself attracted to more and more, though I have barely just met the kid. Four days, and I already am loosing what self control I have. What would he think if I kissed him? He'd be appalled, but why should I care? He's my prisoner, anyway. I'm not his, it doesn't matter.

You're a prisoner to your heart. my brain deems fit to remind me. God that sounds cheesy. And that's coming from a guy who only knows about the world through internet and reality TV!

I sigh, pacing my room. That's it. I'll have to stop thinking about things like this, about Frankie I mean, now! But it really did feel good, to be able to just sit and cry into Frankie's arms, deluding myself to think he'd always be there for me. I felt as if the whole world could just float away, nothing else mattered, as long as he was holding me. I forgot myself, everything I stand for. I forgot the nagging in the back of my mind, the urge to kill erased by a simple touch. And when I forgot everything, I realized I never wanted to remember.

I forgot the agonizing pain of not killing someone, I forgot how it felt to have a knife in my hands, to stab without mercy. I remembered what it was like to live, not merely survive.

Pulling away from Frankie, feeling the rush of guilt, the urge to kill another renewed...it hurt so much I almost started crying again, desperate for his touch. But I resisted-hardly, but I still did- and now I'm here in my room, pacing, wanting to relive every moment of his touch. I'm alone now, in my room with my dreaded thoughts. I sift through them, I'm scared as to what I might find. Ever since Frankie, I've been getting soft. Maybe it's what I need.

Maybe I don't need to be scary and intimidating around Frankie, at least. Maybe, for once, a change, I can simply be...Me.

But being me doesn't do my job.

(Chapter 4 end)

Gerard's P.O.V.

"We're going to Mexico." I announce to Frankie, once we're at the airport. I've never been to Mexico, but I think Frankie might like it. And I've got a job here. I usually try not to go to warm places, but I'll deal with the heat just fine.

"Why?" He asks.

"Because I have a job to do." I shrug. I killed my last job yesterday. I should be fine for a while.

We get off the plane, a good 13 hours later, and I realize I'll need to kill someone, soon.

I rent a sleek black Ducatti, and strap Frankie and my bags to the back of it.

"You got...a motorcycle? That has to be the sexiest thing ever not alive." He mutters the last part. So he goes for biker chicks, does he?

I grin. "We're going to a tourist resort. And well...I thought you might like it." I get on the bike starting it up. By now I think Frankie's realized running would be stupid. I'd find him.

I motion for him to get on behind me, and he does, fluently, like he's done it many times before. Ducatti's are generally meant for 1 person, make shift for two, so he has to wrap his arms around my waist to hold on. Yet another reason to rent a motorcycle. Soon I realize Frankie's closer to me than expected, really only a few layers of cloth separate our skins, as he hugs his arms around me.

Frankie shifts ever so slightly, sending a shiver down my spine. I hope I don't get too distracted. I slowly start speeding the bike, and Frankie hugs onto me tighter, pulling us ever closer, as if trying to suffocate the clothes between us.

"Mr. Way, Mr. Iero." A servant of the 5 star resort says, showing us our room. Rooms, really. There's a huge balcony, three bedrooms each with king sized beds, and two TV rooms. Every room has a Tv, and there's an office, complete with a computer.

There's AC, I realize. Thank God for Air Conditioner. Without it, in my long sleeves and jeans, I would be toasted. Quite literally.

"I'm going out." I tell Frankie, who's already re-dressed in shorts and a T-shirt.

"In that?" He asks, eyes wide and eyebrows all over the place. Is it really that weird to be dresses in boots, skinnies and a long sleeved black shirt in Mexico during the summertime?

Yes. Yes it is.

"Yes. Leave this room and I will kill you. I've had any internet with chat rooms blocked." I inform him.

"I won't be able to go out, but at least I can read fan fiction." He replies sarcastically.

"Don't be silly. Most of those sights you can review or chat on." I reply, leaving without another word.

As soon as the door is shut, I full on run out of the resort, take the bike to a town over so I can kill. I can feel the impatience of my body, and it's not all that pleasant. I need to hurry up.

I quickly find a target- a lone, latino girl. Walking alone down a narrow and unlit pathway between two stores at a mall. I grab her hair from behind, clamping my hand over her mouth, dragging her back into my chest.

I feel adrenaline pump through my body and hers, and pretending to be a vampire, I bite down on her neck. Hard. I can feel her try to scream, break free, but I don't let her go, I can already taste blood in my mouth. She tries to wiggle away to no avail as I bite through her muscle and nerves, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood streaming down her chest.

I throw her to the ground, and I grab her head, slamming it to the ground. I hear a gut wrenching crack and I know she's dead. I can still taste her blood in my mouth.

I lick the blood off my lips, and try to get it off my face with my sleeve. The blood tastes sweet, and has a slightly sickening quality to it, not something I can understand why anyone would want to get used to. It has a disgusting quality that sticks to my tongue, clogging my throat. It almost makes me gag, it's so awful, the way it's warm on my tongue with the gone life force of the girl. The audacity of it as it explores my mouth like water would, like another's tongue would...Frank... I look back at the Latino girl, something known as guilt entering my brain for the first time.

FRANK POINT OF VIEW

Gerard comes back to our room, an hour after he left, sweaty, with the remenants of something red smeared on his face.

"What's on your face?" I ask. He freezes, eyes wide.

"Erm...Nothing." He says, his face portraying the utmost guilt.

"Fon't lie to me." I say, jumping up from the couch I was lounging on, walking over to him.

"Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry."

I gawp at him. "You killed someone? I thought you didn't like killing people!" I yells at him, feeling betrayed somehow.

He shrugs. "I'm who I've got to be."

"Don't give me that shit. A cold blooded killer? That's not you! I've held you while you cried! You have emotions, Gerard! Then you go and kill people, like it means nothing, erasing all understanding I have of you!" I yell at him.

"It doesn't mean nothing to me, but I am a cold blood killer. Why should loving my family change anything? Crying in front of you was a mistake!" He yells back, looking more than slightly distraught.

"It doesn't make sense! Nothing about you makes sense!" I yell in frustration.

He looks me over a moment. "You're trying to figure me out, aren't you?" He asks calmly.

"I-yes." I say, surprised by his sudden change in tone.

"Well don't." He frowns, storming into his room and slamming the door.

GERARD'S POINT OF VIEW

Frankie has no right to lecture me! He knows nothing about me, about why I kill! Not about my situation, my needs, my desires...

Because you won't tell him. A voice in my head argues.

I can't tell him, he's starting to semi-relax around me. I don't want to scare him with my ugly secrets, sending him running down the halls screaming for help!

He wouldn't do that. He's to logical. He thinks you'd kill him.

Yeah, I suppose that's true. But I've never told anyone why I do what I do. I have no reason to start now.

You're just worried he'll know everything about you and still think you aren't human anyway.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

Admit it. You don't even believe your actions are justified, and you don't deserve to be around someone so perfect.

mY brain is probably right. I'm not worthy of Frank. He's so beautiful, so innocent, so trusting. And I'm... I'm dirty, have an ever growing amount of blood on my hands, the farthest thing from innocent imaginable and can't bring myself to share a secret with anyone.

It's despicable, really. I should just die...NO, I can't. I've been down this road before. Even if I die, someone else will be forced to fill my shoes.

I'll just have to live in awe of the beautiful boy I hold unwillingly captive, disappoint him by killing again. And again. And again.

(Chapter 5 End)

Frank's P.O.V.

I wake up in the most comfortable, biggest bed I've ever slept in, at almost half past twelve. I stumble, still a bit sleepy, into the living room outside my bedroom, I immediately notice a huge tray of food set out on the coffee table. I eagerly walk towards it, noticing a white card with my name on it as I pick up the note.

Frankie,
I'm sorry about snapping at you yesterday. I shouldn't have, I know. I was just so tired. I'm in the office room when you finish breakfast. We can explore the resort if you want to.
XO Gerard
P.s. Everything is vegetarian.
XP

I feel my heart flutter at the "X"'s and the "o"'s, and also at the fact he remembered I'm a vegetarian. I smile slightly to myself, as he's finally going to let me explore. Maybe Gerard will shed his long sleeves and skinnies. Mmm...

I quietly pick out of the many options what I want to eat, then dig into the veggie sausages and and syrup covered pancakes. As soon as I'm done, I'm off to find Gerard.

I find him in the office-where he said he would be- looking onto a giant moniter I can't see.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" I ask, coming around the giant desk to look at the screen. I am able to see barely anything before he shuts the window.

"Nothing." He says guiltily.

"Were you watching porn?" I ask, a frown sliding across my face. Seems logical that he would, I guess... But this early? It's like one.

"No! I was...er...I was..." HE sighs in defeat. "So, you want to explore this place?"

"Hells yeah!" I grin.

XX Time lapse, bitches XX

We've explored all the indoors part of the resort- the two movie theaters, the amusement park, indoor water park, lounges, and several bars and restaurants. Let us not forget the mall they have. And I can not seem to forget the fact Gerard won't lose the long sleeves.

"C'mon, can we go outside?" I plead, pulling Gerard towards the door.

"No! It's too hot." He complains, obviously trying to avoid hot weather. I'll show him how hot my weather can be...Wait, I'm having dirty thoughts that don't even make sense!

"Then let's go change!"

"No!"

"Geez, Gerard! Why won't you let me see any more of your skin than your hands and face?" I frown. "I'm not going to jump you." Okay, I probably won't jump you.

Gerard laughs at the jumping part, either thinking or pretending it's a joke. He's straight, as straight as the dagger he stabbed through my heart. But I guess he's got plenty of experience in the stabbing department.

"You're going to have to get out of your clothes sometime. Might as well be now." I shrug.

"Nope. I'm not changing, or undressing, in front of you Frankie." My heart sinks a little as he says this. Irrationally, but it still happens.

I sigh in defeat at his last words. Defeated in more ways than one. We decide to go to a movie, and all is well.

-the next day-

I stumble into one of the Tv rooms, tired from simply being asleep a few minutes ago. I'm surprised to see Gerard sitting on a couch, cradling a cup of coffee and watching some TV program.

"G'morning." I mumble. Gerard urns to look at me, a smile making a guest appearance on his face.

"Hey, you want some coffee?" He asks, getting up.

I nod slowly, like the zombie my sleepiness has made me.

"Here." He holds out his, an offering. What's going on? He's usually so protective of his caffein.

"what's the occasion?" I ask, taking a sip of the delicious brown liquid.

"Do I need an occasion to be nice?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

"Of course you do." I joke, the coffee already working his magic. Or Gerard being near me working it's magic.

He rubs his neck, chuckling, and I notice something that surely was not on his neck before. It's green, and snaking from his shirt collar to just under his ear just like a vine of some sort.

"When did you get that tattoo?" I ask. How did he get a tattoo last night? And it's not swollen, but it couldn't have been there before. I would have noticed.

"What tattoo?" He asks, just as confused as I am.

"The one on your neck..." I step closer, trying to get a better look at the ink. Suddenly his eyes widen in realization and he runs into my room's bathroom, me quick on his heels. He gasps once he sees the tattoo in the large mirror, pulling back his hair.

"Gerard...What's going on?" I ask. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh shit, it's growing..." He mutters, staring at his reflexion, not even comprehending my existence.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and quietly repeat my question.

He saps his head in my direction. "Get out."

"What?" I exclaim in shock.

"Get out."

"Why?" I ask, a bit hurt. I thought we were making progress.

"Just get out!" He yells, stepping away from me as I bring my hand up to his ace.

"No." I say, but still drop my hand.

"..No? Get out, Frankie.!" It's not your problem!" He yells.

"I want it to be my problem." I say quietly. Oh shit, did I just say that?

"I-I can't... Please, please just go." He pleads.

"Gerard, I won't. If this is something... big, I want to be here for you." I walk towards him again, but he flinches back.

"No, Frankie... please." He looks me in the eyes, begging me to leave. I almost do it, but I don't want to leave him. He's too freaked out, and this might be a good opportunity to learn more about him.

"A-are you sure you won't leave?" He asks, seeing my silent resistance.

I nod.

"Fine, but please...don't judge me too harshly." He whispers, starting to attempt to take off his shirt. But his hands are shaking so much, I have to help him.

I step back, gasping at his exposed skin. Spouting from his back are dozens of deep green vines, with thorns turning a brown-red. Sprouting from semi-random places on the vines are deep red roses, some open, some merely buds. But the open ones have pale white skulls in them. They're so beautiful, yet so ugly. Beautiful in the way they look, ugly in the way he seems to hate them.

"They're horrible, I know." He mutters, hiding his face in his shoulder length black hair.

"No.. They're quite beautiful." I disagree. "Why are you so ashamed?"

He bites his lip, no doubt thinking up an excuse for the real reason. I won't push it, not after he let me so far in. I sigh, and decide to change my question.

"When did you get it done? How?" I ask.

"Oh, I, um, called room service last night..." He tries meekly. A lie as visible as the murder on his fault. Sio very, very visible.

"Gerard." I sigh. "I know that's a lie. But if you really don't want to tell me now...I'll wait as long as you need me to." I say, smiling slightly at him. Soon I find myself engulfed in an attack of coordinated limbs, in a deep embrace with the man I secretly want to be mine.

Gerard's P.O.V. (later, 11:36 pm)

I can't tell Frankie much about the vines on my body, the thorns, but knowing he doesn't find them as ugly as I do is reassuring. Suddenly I feel a pain, one I haven't felt in a long time. I feel my skin being torn, and squeezing like an anaconda. I scream as I fall to the floor in a heap of pain and torn thoughts.

Frank's P.O.V.

I hear a scream of pure pain, and I know it's Gerard, so I hurry to the bathroom where I find him curled on the floor, a thousand horrible pains all expressed on his face.

"Gerard, what's wrong?" I ask frantically, noticing the blood on the floor around him in spurts. I look him over, noticing slight indents through his clothes, almost as if something is choking him, tears of hurt running down his face. I pull up his shirt, expecting to see..I don't know. Anything but what I saw. What I saw were the vines tattooed to his body choking him to death.

(Chapter 6 End)

Frank's P.O.V.

The vines tattooed on his skin are squeezing in on him, the thorns cutting into skin, causing crimson blood to flow. His face is contorted with pain, his mouth slightly ajar. But he doesn't scream. The pain is taking over his body, and he isn't so much as whimpering.

"R..run, Frankie..!" He croaks, opening his eyes to look at me, pleading with his eyes. But his eyes are mutilated. They're not the way they usually are, kind and caring yet somehow brutal. These eyes are worse than anything I could imagine. They're filled with pain, fear and self-loathing. How does something change Gerard so much in a few minutes? yes, Frank was talking about Gerard if that's not painfully obvious. Who else would it be?

"What can I do to help?" I ask frantically, trying to find away to take the pain away, getting to my knees next to him, (save your dirty thoughts for later. I'll give you many opportunities) fingers tracing the vines pulling in his skin, crushing his body. I can't stand seeing him like this. In pain. Hurting. It almost makes me want to cry. Then I realize silent tears are already clouding my eyes.

"Run!" He screams, his voice filled with agony, and a sudden burst of pain sends his back into an arch, then he curls up tighter on the floor.

"I-I'm not going to leave you." I rub his back, smiling slightly against his begging , panicky eyes.

"Please!" His voice hitches upward, and I know another shot of pain is racing though his veins. I shake my head.

"I want to be here for you."

Taking a very sharp, undoubtedly painful breath, he responds, his voice shaking with torment as the vines continue to crush him tighter. "L-leave no-ow! I ca-are abo-o-out y-ou too mu-uch to hav-ve m-me here. P-please, Fran-nkie. I don-n't wan-na ki-i-ill yo-u." Each break in word is accompanied by a whimper, barely audible yet still in existence.

My eyes widen. Do these tattoos have something to do with the murder of Gerard's victims?

Suddenly Gerard's eyes roll back in his head, his mouth lolling causing my heart to constrict. The vines stop tugging his body into itself, instead twirling around his body, leaving gashes from thorns as impossibly more vines appear. There are more and more, until his entire body is a fully painted jungle of ludicrously painful vines. His blood pours everywhere from his wounds, the vines ravaging his mind, his body, overloading the nerves with pain. I want to rip the vines off Gerard, but even I know that's impossible.

I hear and excruciating riiip, hear the blood hit the floor while I watch it fall. Then there are vines coming out of his body, creating bigger cuts even though they're two dimensional pieces of horror, I can tell they would hurt and Gerard would be screaming if he were actually conscious. Suddenly the vines hanging loosely off his back are longer, violently expanding in a blur of movement, one of the several vines hits the mirror, and remains planted in the now cracked vanity appeaser, one of the others into the white tiles opposite the mirror, and two on the ground, lifting Gerard's body off the ground by his back.

This is a little too Dr. Octapus for me, I've seen Spiderman and know that Doc Oc isn't a good guy (until the end, but that doesn't count.). I book it, running out of the bathroom, the suite, into the hallway like a bat out of hell.

I hear a screaming behind me, and I turn my head to examine the origin. I see a girl lifted in the air, weird snakes running through her skin in the most horrific way.

She's screaming, contorting in pain, and her violently torn flesh and dropped body reveals the killer to be Gerard, the weapon the vines coming from his unconscious form.

I don't stop running- I don't actually want to die. (shocker) I hear more screams behind me-but I don't stop running, not as I hear terrified yelps, the taring of flesh and the splat of blood against the hotel walls.

I hear a scream I recognize this time- Gerard's. I turn to see the vines retracting into his body, grinding against his skin in their eagerness to escape back into Gerard's body. He opens his mouth as if to scream, but his mouth and eyes are suddenly bombarded by anxious vines with a desire to get into his body-sliding into his ears and nose as well, leaving them red and swollen, bruised, and with little to moderate cuts lacing his face and body.

Gerard slumps to the floor, seemingly unable to move, or unconscious.

I carefully walk over to him, the vines on his skin returning to what I assume is normal. "Gerard..?"

"Frankie...I'm so sorry..." He whispers in nothing more than a pained croak.

"Sh...It's fine. Lets get you back yo our suite." I bend down, pulling his arm around my shoulder, trying to be more gentle when he flinches. He hisses in pain as I assist/carry him down the hall, sometimes so much as a quiet scream of pain.

I guide Gerard to my bathroom, fully examining his bruises and cuts in horror.

"I think we need to get you to the hospital." I concur with the angry looking swelling, cut, bruised yet still beautiful skin adorning his body.

"I'll be fine." Gerard whispers, wincing in pain. "It's not the first time it's happened. And there's no internal bleeding. I just need to get cleaned up..." He winces a few times as he speaks.

"No, you really need-"

"Why don't you find the first aid kit?" Gerard suggests. I nod, and finally find it under the sink I have him sitting on. I place the kit next to him, opening it. I pull out a water bottle (WTF?), gauze, pain pills, disinfectant and bad aids.

I look over the long gashes on his chest, the small cuts, the darkening bruises. Then I (excitedly) come to a realization.

"We need to take your pants off."

Gerard bites his lip as I unzip his pants, undoing the button, being careful not to hurt him and hide my excitement. I pull down his skinnies only to reveal many more cuts, gasping as I see them for the first time. I wish he were cut free and safe, in my arms at the very least.

I sigh at my inability to touch this gorgeous man-at least in the way I want to. Being near him will have to do, though he sometimes drives me crazy.

I pop the pain pills into his mouth, open the water bottle and bring it to his lips, and he swallows with a little difficulty. He winces when he swallows, and I find myself feeling sorry for Gerard, an unwilling murderer, it seems. I'll ask about this all, but later.

I get out some cotton swabs and start to douse them in the disinfectant before I realize I can't clean Gerard off with the dainty little swabs.

"Gerard...we need to wash away the blood. Do you think you can shower alone?" He shakes his head after barely a moment of consideration. "I'll help you, then." Just what I need. Temptation from a naked, weak and wet Gerard. If I was a Christian I would so be going to hell.

I get him off the counter/sink of my room's bathroom, leading him to one of the two grand baths our suite holds. We'd have to stand up if we showered, and I don't think either of us could handle that.

I set him down on a bench next to the tub, well, pool, and start to run the water in the giant hot tub like thing. Once the pool/tub/thing is almost full, I walk back over to Gerard, who's been watching me from his perch, a slight bit glassy eyed. Maybe I gave him too strong pain meds?

Gerard bites his lip as I unzip his pants, undoing the button, being careful not to hurt him and hide my excitement. I pull down his skinnies only to reveal many more cuts, gasping as I see them for the first time. I wish he were cut free and safe, in my arms at the very least.

I sigh at my inability to touch this gorgeous man-at least in the way I want to. Being near him will have to do, though he sometimes drives me crazy.

I pop the pain pills into his mouth, open the water bottle and bring it to his lips, and he swallows with a little difficulty. He winces when he swallows, and I find myself feeling sorry for Gerard, an unwilling murderer, it seems. I'll ask about this all, but later.

I get out some cotton swabs and start to douse them in the disinfectant before I realize I can't clean Gerard off with the dainty little swabs.

"Gerard...we need to wash away the blood. Do you think you can shower alone?" He shakes his head after barely a moment of consideration. "I'll help you, then." Just what I need. Temptation from a naked, weak and wet Gerard. If I was a Christian I would so be going to hell.

I get him off the counter/sink of my room's bathroom, leading him to one of the two grand baths our suite holds. We'd have to stand up if we showered, and I don't think either of us could handle that.

I set him down on a bench next to the tub, well, pool, and start to run the water in the giant hot tub like thing. Once the pool/tub/thing is almost full, I walk back over to Gerard, who's been watching me from his perch, a slight bit glassy eyed. Maybe I gave him too strong pain meds?

I strip, completely of clothes, before I help him out of his boxers and into the pool (after a moment of discreet staring). I ease both of us is, pulling him gently to the center of the tub where the's an underwater bench. I have him sit on the end of the log-ish bench, me right behind him, my "money maker" about two inches from his ass.

I dip a wash cloth I got earlier in the warm water, getting it wet, and gently start rubbing on his nock to get rid of some of the blood, the warm water relaxing us both.

I'm still very aware of my situation, though. The gorgeous man I have a futile crush on, who's straight, is, for lack of a better term, currently almost being massages by me. Did I mention we're both naked and I might have given him some slightly strong pain pills?

I move the washcloth down to his shoulders, and I don't know what overtakes me but I drop the washcloth, using my hands, now massaging him properly, being careful to avoid any badly hurt areas. I start to rub circles on the sides of his neck, his shoulders, down his back, pressing hard, but not too hard. I work my way along his back, working out any kinks I can find.

"Oh God, Frankie...So good." He moans, and I find myself perhaps a bit more turned on than I should be. MAybe it's because it's been almost a year since I had sex, or because he's so goddamn hot.

I work my way down his back, avoiding cuts as I work out knots.

"Don't stop..." He begs, dragging out his words breathily, sending shivers up and down my spine in a flurry of desire.

I grin as I continue my work kneading Gerard's back, going up it now that I'd gotten down his back, almost to his ass (I'd resisted).

Now that I've made my way up his spine, back to his neck, he leans back onto my chest, head in the crook of my neck.

I start rubbing the blood off his chest, again, avoiding cuts and more teasing touches than massage.

"I wish it could always be like this." He mutters, eyes closed in contentment. The pain pills must be working well enough.

"What, you seriously injured?" I tease, a slight smirk on my face.

"No...us." He whispers. It's barely audible, but it's enough to make my heart stop beating in my chest.

"Gerard?"

"Hm?" He smiles, eyes still closed, apparently enjoying being pressed against me like this.

"Are you gay?" I ask the golden question, prepared, almost, for heartbreak.

"Um..."

I hear a bang and quick turn my head to see a police officer barge into the room, looking around. My heart stops again. The police officer shrugs, not seeing Gerard and I somehow, leaving.

"Er...Why didn't the police officer notice us?" I ask Gerard, who still has his eyes closed, back pressed against my chest.

"Oh. I get to choose wether we're seen by agents of law enforcement. I din't want us to be seen. It's how i've never been caught." He explains. He looks a bit sad, assumedly because he has something to be caught for.

"Gerard...Are you going to explain to me what happened with your tattoos?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I hate these awful things." He raises his arm out of the water, looking at the horribly beautiful patterned skin, eyeing it with distaste. What you saw...is what happens when the vines get too hungry, when I don't feed them every other day. What you saw is what happens when the knife stays out of my hands." He explains, opening his eyes to look me in the eye.

"I'm so sorry. I distracted you from killing, and this-"

"Sh.." Gerard presses his finger to my lips, silencing me. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's not your fault."

"Who's fault is it?" I ask, curiously.

"Well, humans'. I guess a long time ago, humans were even more horrible than they are now. They were glorified for rape and slaughter... Well, God didn't like this. You know of the 7 deadly sins, right?"

I nod, little Christian that I'm not.

"Well, every sin was from everyone until there wasn't as much left, and each sin was given to one human, the sin meant to consume that human. That's me. I got a sin. Ira, or much revenge, or murder. So whenever someone does me wrong, I must do wrong to them. And...I have to kill every other day. There's a person for every sin."

"How did you end up with the sin of revenge?" I ask quietly, taking it all in.

He frowns. "It's random. It's like a big game of BINGO! for God, and my number just happened to be called. Though, at the moment, I'm almost happy for this curse." He snuggles up against me a bit more, closing his eyes.

"That's horrible. That you have to kill." God is so cruel.

"Yeah…but someone's gotta do it. I might not like it, but at least I'm used to it." He sighs, and leans off of me. I'm sad to see him go. "Can you get my bag, and in it grab a silver bottle?" He requests.

"Sure. You sure you'll be okay?" I ask.

He chuckles. "I'm supporting my self just fine right now."

I nod, and am soon without the bottle in hand, naked before him.

"Just pour some of it in, please." He asks of me. I unscrew the cap, and overturn the bottle, letting some of the dense silver liquid fall into the pool. I screw the cap back on, and look up to see water. Just water. No Gerard.

"Gerard?" I yell, splashing into the bath, frantically searching for his body. I hear a splash behind me and turn to see Gerard resurfacing a foot or two behind me, all his cuts and bruises gone.

"What is that stuff?" I gasp at his miraculous recovery.

He shrugs. "I don't really know, but it works." He smiles, walking closer to me as I turn around as to face him.

I smile back as he hugs me tight. I feel a bit…aroused as all our bits touch. And yes, I mean those bits too. Not to mention how hot those earlier moans were…

"Yes, Franke." He whispers in my ear.

"Yes what?" I ask, confused.

He doesn't say anything, just pulls me back from the hug, staring into my eyes a moment before slowly lowering his lips to mine in a chaste kiss, yet glory to my heart and soul all the same.

He pulls back, shy now. "Yes, I'm gay." He mutters, blushing furiously. It's adorable. "Sorry if my answer disappoints you." He moves to turn away, but I catch his shoulder and pull him into a second kiss, this one not so chaste as we rub our tongues back and forth, moaning into each other's mouths as both our erections grow.

Best answer ever.

(Chapter 7 End)

I crawl out of the giant bed, kissing my sleeping Frankie on the forehead. We've been dating for a week now, and have relocated from Mexico to Paris(where else?). I've thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his company, not needing an excuse to run my hand through his hair, to kiss him, to love him. But today, I must kill. Before Frank wakes up, and I have to leave him alone, while conscious.

Now that he knows why I kill, he tries not to get on my case, but I can tell the whole murder thing bothers him. It would bother me, too, if I were him. But it's not as though I can help killing people. When I do it, too, I turn into almost a different person. I'm driven to kill, I want it. But that doesn't mean I like it, no it does not.

I pull a scarf around my neck to hide the awful vine tattoo that is now sprouting a blood red flower. I haven't much time left, I know.

I hurry down the cobblestone street, and it hardly takes me a minute to find a prey. An old man, around sixty. I decide not to do anything special with this man, just get it over with. I creep behind him silently in the deserted street, pulling a shiny blade from my pocket. A swing of the knife, and this man will be dead. Dead from a little knife I keep in my pocket, intended for camping purposes. I hate camping.

I take a few long strides, and am behind the man when I crush the blade into his back, hearing the snap! as the ribs break, the gushing of blood, the scrape of bone against metal. He gasps for a moment, then drops limp, falling to the ground, my kill forgotten. I don't bother to reclaim my knife from the corpse, just walk away, ignoring the blood making pools and rivers in the grey stone road.

I sigh as I walk along the road back to the apartment I've rented, deciding to stop at a coffee shop along the way. Frankie won't be up for a while, anyway. I walk to the beautifully small and quiet cafe, inhaling the air with a smile.

"Bonjour, monsieur. Vous désirez?" The barista asks, examining her nails with little compassion.

"Salut, manquer. Je voudrais un cafe, s'il vous plait." I smile, paying my dues. I look over the empty cafe, grabbing my coffee, finding a nice corner seat overlooking the empty road. Soon the streets have the occasional guest, and I examine them as they walk by, thinking up stories and guesses about their lives. Do they limp, do they text, what do they do and why do they do it? Simply stated, I people watch. But people watching isn't simple, it's complex in the simplest way. One little deal could change what you think of a person and their life. It's amazing, really.

I wonder if any of these people are as messed up as I am, if they belong in an asylum or jailhouse. In hell. I get my answer when I see a face I never wanted to see again. Maybe it's not him, maybe it's not that awful man walking into the coffee shop, maybe it's not the guy who messed up my life for so long. But as soon as I hear him order a drink, I know it's him. The monster who nearly destroyed me. Not that he would remember.

He scans the room for somewhere to sit, and I pray he doesn't decide to socialize with me.

"Bonjour." He says, sliding into the seat next to me.

MYSTERY MAN'S P.O.V. (I'm sorry about this…)

"H-hello." The dark haired man stutters in english. He must not speak French. I wonder how this hot thing got his coffee. Probably mimed. He does his best not to look at me, his eyes in his lap, occasionally darting up to mine, only to be scared away.

"Oh, an American." I smile. "What's your name, sugar?" I ask in my perfect english. Mind you, this boy has an American accent, I have an English one.

"G-Gerard." He says, biting his lip in an adorable fashion.

"I'm Leon, but call me whatever you deem fit." I smile flirtatiously at him. "You wanna come to mine?"

"No!" He all but yells, earning us a glare from the staff woman. "I mean, I'm um, I should be getting back to my boyfriend…"He bites on his lip, getting up from his corner seat. I reach towards his hand, but he flinches away. I stand up, looking him in the eyes.

"You're coming with me." I command, using my magic on him. No, not my flirtatious magic, but literal magic. I say it with the authority I know I have over normal people, and I can tell the beautiful man is tempted to follow. I smirk.

"No, sorry. I have to go." Gerard says, turning around to gather up a messenger bag. My eyes widen at his response. No one ever says no to me. Not ever. Unless…

"Which one are you?" I ask, eager to know. He just looks confused. "Which sin?" I clarify. Gerard freezes, and slowly turns around. He chuckles slightly. Nervously.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He informs me. I roll my eyes. "The idea that I am a sin is simply ludicrous."

"Ain't ludicrous at all with that body." I wink.

"Er… Goodbye."

"No, wait! I know you're a sin! I am one too! Have been so for five years!" I tell him, eyes momentarily flicking to the impassive barista.

"Oh?" He asks.

"Yeah. My sin is lust."

(Chapter 8 End)

Gerard's P.O.V.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to get as far away from Leon as possible, making sure to avoid his touch. I thought I got over this, I have no reason to be afraid. So why is the panic coming back? Why is it hard to not flinch away, why is my stutter back? I thought it was gone for good.

I take a deep breath. "What sin I am is unimportant."

The olive skinned man looks at me funny. "Pray tell why it's not important."

"It's not really any of your business." I protest, turning away.

I feel an arm drape over my shoulder, and I freeze up, acting on instinct. I look to see Leon's olive skin arm lazily resting on my shoulder, his hip pressed against mine.

"Why don't we talk about this somewhere less... Public?" The brown eyed one suggests. I nod, too freaked to do anything else.

I take a deep breath, collecting myself. I am Gerard fucking Way. I can't be acting like this, like a pussy. I have a personality to maintain. I have women and children to kill. I leave filled coffins in my wake.

"To yours?" I ask, getting myself under control and the picture of confidence is once again me. Frank and this man, they make me too soft. Leon shakes his head. I sigh, irritated. "We'll go to mine, then." I frown. This man is a reminder of the past. This isn't the past, I'm stronger now. I can kill him without mercy now. I won't ever be hurt by such vermin again.

I lead the slave to lust out of Statbucks, and we make are way down the short path to my shared apartment, his arm still strung across my shoulder.

"How long have you been a sin?" I inquire.

"A year." Leon responds easily, dropping his English accent for an American one. A weird person he most certainly is. A weird, vile, not to mention evil person. "How about you?"

I shrug. "Not sure." A lie. I know the day I turned well. And he... He wasn't lust when we first met. "Do you have Vines, too?" I ask. I've never met another sin before, but I've heard stories from ghosts. Thank God ghosts can't find the person who killed them, or I would have an army of angry, dead stalkers.

Leon nods. "The tattoos? I got them mysteriously when I became lust. I have to have sex every four days, too, or else they hurt like a bitch."

I raise my eyebrows. Calm, cool and collected is what I am currently the embodiment of. "Four days?"

He nods. "Do you have more time?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Less."

"How long?"

"Every other day. So every two days." I answer.

"Oh, sucks. What do you have to do?" He asks.

I shrug. "I'd rather not say." I ha better keep my murderous habits to myself.

"I told you about me! Now you tell me about you!" He pouts. it's disgusting. To anyone else, Leon is no doubt beautiful. But not to me.

I sigh. I shod give him something. "I'd rather not say. But do you have any abilities?" I ask.

"You tell me yours first."

"I can choose wether or not law officials, or anyone hostile towards me are capable of seeing or hearing me." I give him. he smirks.

"Well, I. Not telling you mine. I'll get you to guess after I use it." He smirks.

"We're here." I say, leading the older man into my apartment, up the elavator and to mine and Frank's room.

I open the door, surprised to see Frank in the hallway, sporting fluffy pink slippers and dark pajama bottoms and nothing else, sipping on a cup of coffee, sleep still obvious in his eyes.

"Oh, G'morning Gera- who's that?" Frank asks uncertainly, all sleepiness fleeing his features, catching my irritated glances at Leon.

"Ooooh, is this your boyfriend? Damn fine, he is. In fact... Would you care for a fuck?" Leon offers my boyfriend.

"Erm... No thanks. Who are you?" Frank asks as I pull off my scarf, disturbing Leon's arm.

"Aw, isn't he cute!" Leon tells me, though it's phrased as a gushes the words, poking my nose for emphasis. I try to bite his finger, but he has good reflexes and I miss, partly at the fault of my distaste for literal blood. "Now now. Biting isn't very nice "

I'm tempted to make a Your Mom joke about not being nice, but I don't, I hold my tongue in fake indifference.

"Well, honey, my name is Leon. And you are..?"

"Frank." Frank frowns at the strange, mood swinging man.

"Nice name. Say, is that coffee?" Leon inquires. Frank nods his head, leading us all to the kitchen.

"Would you like a cup?" Frank asks Leon, already handing me a cup of delicious, life sustaining killer-juice. I slip out for. Under Leon's arm, sliding onto a stool (with a back). Frank jumped into my lap, blocking Leon from the very same maneuver Frankie just preformed, coffee pot and cup still in hand.

I hug Frank to me, trying to make it clear that I'm not interested in Leon. Leon eyes Frank, inspecting out position and inspecting us.

"You're not a Sin, are you?" Leon asks Frank.

Frank gasps. "No, of course not!" Frank exclaims. "You told him?" He says to me.

I shake my head. "He doesn't know the specifics, and I want to keep it that way. Besides, he's the Sin of Lust."

"Oh." Frank says, win and simple.

Leon nods at Frank. "I didn't think you were. Now run off while I talk to your boyfriend."

Frank glares at Leon from my lap. "I think I'll stay."

Leon raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Being Gerard's boyfriend, I think I can be included I your dicussions." Frank glares.

Leon raises his eyebrows even higher. "I think there are some things Gerard doesnt want you to know." Leon says coldly.

Frank snorts. "I doubt it." Be looks up at me. "Right?"

I bite the inside of my lip. Leon won't know what I'm not telling Frank. "...Yeah."

Frank frowns at the obvious uncertainty in my words, but looks to Leon, an unspoken challenge made to see if Leon knows things Frank doesn't need to know. Oh shit.

Leon raises his eyebrows impossibly higher. "Did your dear Gerard tell you that according to that tattoo on his neck he has less than a month left to live?"

At the look on Frank's face Leon smirks, knowing full well he has won. What, I wonder, is the trophy?

(Chapter 9 End)

Gerard's P.O.V.

Frankie slowly looks up at me. "Gerard? What does he mean you only have a month to live?"

I glare at Leon. Leon just smirks, the bastard. "You shouldn't have said that." I say.

Leon shrugs. "He has the right to know."

"But I should have been the one to tell him." I argue.

"But would you have told him?" Leon wonders out loud. If I was any less of a person, I would murder him here and now.

"Gerard, how can you only have a month left to live?" Frankie asks me. I shift my weight uncomfortably.

"The tattoos spread. Once they stretch across your entire body… you're dead." Leon explains. He gave Frankie the painless version of the story. I'm at least grateful for that.

Frankie looks up at me. "You knew?" I nod. "For how long?"

"Since the tattoo stretched to my neck." I say, looking anywhere but at Frankie.

"Why…why wouldn't you tell me?" Frankie asks, and I can see water pooling in his eyes.

"I didn't want any fuss." I explain quietly.

"Gerard, I'm supposed to fuss… I thought you cared about me enough to tell me this kind of thing." A single tear falls from his eye as he gets off me, running to out room and slamming the door.

"I do, Frankie!" I yell after him.

"Oops." Leon says innocently. I snarl, picking him up by the collar of his button-up shirt and throwing him across the room.

I follow Frankie to the bedroom, pounding on the door for him to open up. I get no answer, besides Leon creeping up beside me.

"That wasn't very nice." He comments, whispering in my ear. "I can get him to open it if you want."

I look at him. "How?"

"Frank, open the door." Leon says, and moments later the door is no longer closed.

(A/N mind rape starts here. But you have to read it.)

There are tears dripping down Frank's cheeks as Leon walks into the bedroom, and I can't help but feel jealous that the bastard got Frank to open the door. My jealousy escalates as Leon whispers something into Frank's ear. Frank's eyes seem to go fuzzy for a moment, but I brush it off as my imagination as Frankie nods. It's stupid, Frank wouldn't be with a monster like that.

Leon pulls the half-on tie off his neck, handing it to Frankie. Frankie walks over to me, a somewhat cold look in his eyes.

"Frankie, I'm sorry I didn't-what are you doing?" I ask as Frankie ties my hands together in front of me without the stupid tie, pulling me into the bedroom and closing the door. He also locks it… what's going on?

He pushes me down onto the floor, against the door, securing the my hands (via the tie) to the doorknob. I try pulling out of the tie, but can't. Where did Frankie learn to tie like that? (no pun intended)

"Frankie?" I ask as he walks back to Leon.

"Good boy." Leon says, patting Frankie's head, the bastard! He whispers something into Frank's ear again, and I feel that pang of jealousy come back. I shouldn't be jealous, should I? I see Frankie's eyes blur over, but my observation is forgotten the moment Frankie pulls Leon's lips to his own.

"Frankie!" I yelp. Leon breaks the kiss.

"I suppose we should get a gag." And that's what they do.

They come together once again, kissing, and I can see Leon's tongue slide into Frankie's mouth. (A/N At least we know who the seem is)

I watch their tongues battle, though Leon's obviously in control as Frankie moans. A tear falls from my left eye. Is he really making out with another man right in front of me? Is that how little I mean to him?

Leon's hand makes its way up Frankie's shirt, and he gasps as Leon must be playing with his nipple. Enough! enough! Stop it! I get what I did was wrong, just please stop fooling around!

My silent prayers aren't answered, though, as Frankie's shirt is lifted off of him, and so is Leon's, and they're pressing their chests together. I want to puke. Was what I did really bad enough to deserve this? (A/N No.)

Leon leads Frankie around to the bed, kissing him and moving his lips down to suck on Frankie's neck and chest. I hear Frankie moan in approval. Hell, I watch the hickeys form!

I want to scream. I want to puke, I really just want it to stop. I was wrong to keep my lifespan from Frankie, I'll never do it again, not that I'll get a chance to. I try to stand up, do anything, but I can't, can't stop the moans and pants I hear as I close my eyes to block out the sights.

"Stop teasing!" I hear Frank hiss. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I'm hyperventilating, freaking out. Tears are falling from my checks, liquid hurt and frustration as my body shakes. Of course Frank doesn't want me. Why would anyone want someone so incredibly broken?

"Leon…" I hear Frank breath in a gasp.

"Like it right there?" I hear Leon whisper huskily. Damn my excellent hearing, I don't want to hear this!

"Y-yes!" Frank says breathily, moaning it really.

I always assumed the first time I was going to hear my boyfriend during sex I would be involved, not a monster from my past. No, we haven't had sex. We've made out and almost gotten there, but that's it. I think he's ready, but I wasn't. I almost chuckle aloud. The mass murderer is afraid of sex. Who wouldn't laugh?

But then I hear Frank gasp, and I'm brought back to the reality I was desperately ignoring. That my boyfriend is willingly having sex with another man in front of me, me not wanting anything to do with it. I don't want to have to think about how my boyfriend isn't so much as thinking about me, about how he's going to be screaming Leon's name, not mine. about how he's breaking all that I have built.

"You're so big!" Frank says, breathing heavily. I want to die.

I hear both of them moan. "So…tight.." That's not Frank talking.

"Move." I hear Frank breath, and the sound of flesh slamming on flesh seems to resonate around the room. The moans do terrible things to my mind as I hear Leon thrust in and out of my boyfriend…well, he won't be my boyfriend much longer.

"Leon!" I hear Frank scream as Leon no doubt pounds into Frank's prostate.

Leon thrusts into that spot over and over again, his breathy moans mingling with Frank's screams.

I take to painfully hitting my head on the door. When I hear the noises of their sex, I find tears aren't falling from my eyes.

I'm not sad anymore. I can't feel the hurt.

I just feel angry.

Incredibly, fucking, violently angry.

Rage.

I haven't used that word to describe myself in a long time.

I hate Frank. I let him get close to me, and he tossed me aside for a man he just met, throwing out all my love with it. They made me watch, and once something like love is ripped ever so painfully from you, you don't get it back. It's gone. All my love for Frank is gone. I can't even think of adding the 'ie' to the end of his name. it disgusts me.

I start pulling on my bonds, slowly exerting more and more force, oblivious to my surroundings, until the handle comes off completely and my hands are free. I quickly walk over to the fireplace, pulling a poker out of it's hold, striding over to the bed and plunging it into Leon, who is currently inside of Frank, riding out an orgasm as they both just came.

Frank screams as I plunge the fire poker repeatedly into Leon, the blood spurting onto my face something of a relief.

Frank is crying. I don't care. I start laughing, smiling even, as Leon's dead and disfigured body falls off and out of Frank. I stop laughing, stop smiling when I make eye contact with a sobbing Frank.

"Gerard, I'm sorry! I couldn't stop, I couldn't control it I just-"

"Of course you couldn't control it. Because no one can resist Leon." I say coldly, sarcastically at the end. who is he to talk to me, covered in his and Leon's semen?

"I couldn't help it! He told me to do all those things and I couldn't resist." He pleas, trying to hug me as I step away.

"Don't touch me." I spit, walking to the door. He cries harder. I walk through the door, stopping for a moment. "I hope you're happy. We're through, and you just had sex with the man who raped me."

Then I leave. I don't turn back. I don't find a quiet place to cry. No, I do what God wants me to do. I do what Frank made me would do. I do what any monster would do.

I find a shopping center, and I'm the only one who leaves alive. My vines even come out, but I don't notice over the numb pain of my heart. I barely register the pain as my numb body rips apart children, men and women, as my body bathes in their blood and pain.

Because really, it can only be as bad as mine.

I'm finally the sick person my sin demands. I'm finally perfectly despicable. I'm what God made me. I'm really wondering why people trust that guy.

I smile, gracing my victims with a last glimpse of insanity before I rip them limb from limb. I take them to death with cold, unfeeling eyes.

(Chapter 10 End)

Gerard's P.O.V.

Frankie slowly looks up at me. "Gerard? What does he mean you only have a month to live?"

I glare at Leon. Leon just smirks, the bastard. "You shouldn't have said that." I say.

Leon shrugs. "He has the right to know."

"But I should have been the one to tell him." I argue.

"But would you have told him?" Leon wonders out loud. If I was any less of a person, I would murder him here and now.

"Gerard, how can you only have a month left to live?" Frankie asks me. I shift my weight uncomfortably.

"The tattoos spread. Once they stretch across your entire body… you're dead." Leon explains. He gave Frankie the painless version of the story. I'm at least grateful for that.

Frankie looks up at me. "You knew?" I nod. "For how long?"

"Since the tattoo stretched to my neck." I say, looking anywhere but at Frankie.

"Why…why wouldn't you tell me?" Frankie asks, and I can see water pooling in his eyes.

"I didn't want any fuss." I explain quietly.

"Gerard, I'm supposed to fuss… I thought you cared about me enough to tell me this kind of thing." A single tear falls from his eye as he gets off me, running to out room and slamming the door.

"I do, Frankie!" I yell after him.

"Oops." Leon says innocently. I snarl, picking him up by the collar of his button-up shirt and throwing him across the room.

I follow Frankie to the bedroom, pounding on the door for him to open up. I get no answer, besides Leon creeping up beside me.

"That wasn't very nice." He comments, whispering in my ear. "I can get him to open it if you want."

I look at him. "How?"

"Frank, open the door." Leon says, and moments later the door is no longer closed.

(A/N mind rape starts here. But you have to read it.)

There are tears dripping down Frank's cheeks as Leon walks into the bedroom, and I can't help but feel jealous that the bastard got Frank to open the door. My jealousy escalates as Leon whispers something into Frank's ear. Frank's eyes seem to go fuzzy for a moment, but I brush it off as my imagination as Frankie nods. It's stupid, Frank wouldn't be with a monster like that.

Leon pulls the half-on tie off his neck, handing it to Frankie. Frankie walks over to me, a somewhat cold look in his eyes.

"Frankie, I'm sorry I didn't-what are you doing?" I ask as Frankie ties my hands together in front of me without the stupid tie, pulling me into the bedroom and closing the door. He also locks it… what's going on?

He pushes me down onto the floor, against the door, securing the my hands (via the tie) to the doorknob. I try pulling out of the tie, but can't. Where did Frankie learn to tie like that? (no pun intended)

"Frankie?" I ask as he walks back to Leon.

"Good boy." Leon says, patting Frankie's head, the bastard! He whispers something into Frank's ear again, and I feel that pang of jealousy come back. I shouldn't be jealous, should I? I see Frankie's eyes blur over, but my observation is forgotten the moment Frankie pulls Leon's lips to his own.

"Frankie!" I yelp. Leon breaks the kiss.

"I suppose we should get a gag." And that's what they do.

They come together once again, kissing, and I can see Leon's tongue slide into Frankie's mouth. (A/N At least we know who the seem is)

I watch their tongues battle, though Leon's obviously in control as Frankie moans. A tear falls from my left eye. Is he really making out with another man right in front of me? Is that how little I mean to him?

Leon's hand makes its way up Frankie's shirt, and he gasps as Leon must be playing with his nipple. Enough! enough! Stop it! I get what I did was wrong, just please stop fooling around!

My silent prayers aren't answered, though, as Frankie's shirt is lifted off of him, and so is Leon's, and they're pressing their chests together. I want to puke. Was what I did really bad enough to deserve this? (A/N No.)

Leon leads Frankie around to the bed, kissing him and moving his lips down to suck on Frankie's neck and chest. I hear Frankie moan in approval. Hell, I watch the hickeys form!

I want to scream. I want to puke, I really just want it to stop. I was wrong to keep my lifespan from Frankie, I'll never do it again, not that I'll get a chance to. I try to stand up, do anything, but I can't, can't stop the moans and pants I hear as I close my eyes to block out the sights.

"Stop teasing!" I hear Frank hiss. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I'm hyperventilating, freaking out. Tears are falling from my checks, liquid hurt and frustration as my body shakes. Of course Frank doesn't want me. Why would anyone want someone so incredibly broken?

"Leon…" I hear Frank breath in a gasp.

"Like it right there?" I hear Leon whisper huskily. Damn my excellent hearing, I don't want to hear this!

"Y-yes!" Frank says breathily, moaning it really.

I always assumed the first time I was going to hear my boyfriend during sex I would be involved, not a monster from my past. No, we haven't had sex. We've made out and almost gotten there, but that's it. I think he's ready, but I wasn't. I almost chuckle aloud. The mass murderer is afraid of sex. Who wouldn't laugh?

But then I hear Frank gasp, and I'm brought back to the reality I was desperately ignoring. That my boyfriend is willingly having sex with another man in front of me, me not wanting anything to do with it. I don't want to have to think about how my boyfriend isn't so much as thinking about me, about how he's going to be screaming Leon's name, not mine. about how he's breaking all that I have built.

"You're so big!" Frank says, breathing heavily. I want to die.

I hear both of them moan. "So…tight.." That's not Frank talking.

"Move." I hear Frank breath, and the sound of flesh slamming on flesh seems to resonate around the room. The moans do terrible things to my mind as I hear Leon thrust in and out of my boyfriend…well, he won't be my boyfriend much longer.

"Leon!" I hear Frank scream as Leon no doubt pounds into Frank's prostate.

Leon thrusts into that spot over and over again, his breathy moans mingling with Frank's screams.

I take to painfully hitting my head on the door. When I hear the noises of their sex, I find tears aren't falling from my eyes.

I'm not sad anymore. I can't feel the hurt.

I just feel angry.

Incredibly, fucking, violently angry.

Rage.

I haven't used that word to describe myself in a long time.

I hate Frank. I let him get close to me, and he tossed me aside for a man he just met, throwing out all my love with it. They made me watch, and once something like love is ripped ever so painfully from you, you don't get it back. It's gone. All my love for Frank is gone. I can't even think of adding the 'ie' to the end of his name. it disgusts me.

I start pulling on my bonds, slowly exerting more and more force, oblivious to my surroundings, until the handle comes off completely and my hands are free. I quickly walk over to the fireplace, pulling a poker out of it's hold, striding over to the bed and plunging it into Leon, who is currently inside of Frank, riding out an orgasm as they both just came.

Frank screams as I plunge the fire poker repeatedly into Leon, the blood spurting onto my face something of a relief.

Frank is crying. I don't care. I start laughing, smiling even, as Leon's dead and disfigured body falls off and out of Frank. I stop laughing, stop smiling when I make eye contact with a sobbing Frank.

"Gerard, I'm sorry! I couldn't stop, I couldn't control it I just-"

"Of course you couldn't control it. Because no one can resist Leon." I say coldly, sarcastically at the end. who is he to talk to me, covered in his and Leon's semen?

"I couldn't help it! He told me to do all those things and I couldn't resist." He pleas, trying to hug me as I step away.

"Don't touch me." I spit, walking to the door. He cries harder. I walk through the door, stopping for a moment. "I hope you're happy. We're through, and you just had sex with the man who raped me."

Then I leave. I don't turn back. I don't find a quiet place to cry. No, I do what God wants me to do. I do what Frank made me would do. I do what any monster would do.

I find a shopping center, and I'm the only one who leaves alive. My vines even come out, but I don't notice over the numb pain of my heart. I barely register the pain as my numb body rips apart children, men and women, as my body bathes in their blood and pain.

Because really, it can only be as bad as mine.

I'm finally the sick person my sin demands. I'm finally perfectly despicable. I'm what God made me. I'm really wondering why people trust that guy.

I smile, gracing my victims with a last glimpse of insanity before I rip them limb from limb. I take them to death with cold, unfeeling eyes.

(Chapter 10 End)

Gerard's P.O.V.

I don't care about much of anything anymore. When I hear the news that a kidnapped American boy was taken to a French hospital, tattoos burning into his skin, I don't really care. I didn't so much as consider going to visit him.

It's not like he would visit me. Frank, I'm certain it's him. I'm not truly a masochist (a sadist is arguable), so I don't go to see the man that started my lust for bloodshed on a whole new level.

Every moment I'm not sleeping, or thinking about how much I don't care, I'm killing. And there's nothing beautiful about it.

I've decimated the population of a small town already, in just five days. The world and authorities are at a loss. They know someone came, and they can match the fingerprints to my record, but they can't find me. They never can.

I've massacred everyone I can that so much as breathes. Frank breathes. Frank worms around my mind, people making a gesture he's made reminds me of him, everything reminds me of him. Frank Iero is crawling around inside my brain like a mad bug bent on destroying everything.

I hate how everything reminds me of him and how much I deny missing him.

I don't miss his mouth on mine, the callouses on his fingers. I don't miss his warm breath, I don't miss the way he'd talk to me softly, like he actually cared. I don't miss wanting to be perfect for him, and I certainly don't miss the way he finally accepted that I kill people, that I'm a monster. He tolerated that I'm a monster. How could I miss that? And I never long for the feelings he gave me, I could never miss that he actually seemed to care.

I don't miss it, I really don't.

Because he lied to me, all the things that he said were all lies.

He lied to me, broke me, made me into a mindless, careless killing machine.

I almost chuckle. What would Frank say if he saw me now? If he saw the malice in my eyes as I hack this defenseless girl limb from limb?

Oh, right. I don't care. Can't you see that? Why do you keep silently doubting the truth of my words?

It's not ridiculous that I still think of Frank so much. Over the last month I've gotten used to his presence, and the last few days without him have only been noticeable because I'm used to him being with me. It's not like I love him.

It's all so ridiculous. It's stupid. It's stupid that you think I'm glad Frank won't be sad when I die. It's silly you think I want his love.

Because in all honesty I could care less.

Frank is nothing to me. No, he needs to be nothing to me.

If he is something, I can't take it. I'll break.

...Has that already begun?

I sigh, throwing the body of a dead girl aside. Death is the blood to my vampire, and my vampire hasn't been going hungry as of late. In fact, it's been somewhat overfed.

Of course I want the death around me. I want to watch the life drain from their saucer-like, fear filled eyes, watch their hope wither away. I want it to drown out my every emotion, cover my every inner scream that I deny is present.

I want to kill them, I want to kill them because it symbolizes killing my love for Frank Iero. But there are always more.

It's only been a few days since I left Frank, and God is holding a meeting for all the sins. I've never met the others before. For now I'll just pretend I don't know that Frank is the new lust after I killed Leon. I'll grin at the meeting, but I won't bare it. My grin won't be pleasant, it'll be packed full of all my hate.

Or really, all of my discarded love that won't leave me alone.

I wonder if I'll kill anyone. Not that it matters, because I don't fucking love Frank Iero.

(Chapter 11 End)

Gerard's P.O.V.

The meeting of Sin is going to start any minute. I'm waiting for God to collect me, as the invitation said he would. I try to ignore that I'll be seeing Frankie-no, Frank soon. I could care less about the awful, cheating, lying disgusting bastard.

Then why does it hurt to call him a bastard?

It doesn't.

Stop fooling yourself. It hurts to think of him because you love him.

don"t love him!

Gerard. You do realize you're attempting to lie to yourself, right? That I know every time you think of him, which is annoyingly often, and that we share your dreams?

... I don't love him.

You do. You hate what he did, sure, but you don't hate him. You don't can't hate him. Maybe you don't love him. But you sure care a helluva lot. That's at least some kind of love, isn't it?

I don't love Frank! I hate that he had sex with Leon and I hate that he didn't fight!

But maybe he did fight. Maybe, just maybe, those clouded eyes meant something.

...No. Frank left me. That's all there is to it.

Then why, Gerard, why was he crying? Why was he pleading with you? If he wanted to hurt you, he wouldn't ask for you back.

It doesn't matter. My tattoos reach the bottom of my eye. I'm going to die soon anyway. Frank and I are through. Eng of story. Period.

GAH! The fuck is your problem? Geez, Gerard, you irritate me so fucking much sometimes!

I sigh as the extra voice in my head finally leaves with what sounds like an exasperated sigh.

I feel a light flowing through me, and I know that Go is pulling me to His meeting of Sin. I don't want to see Frank. I dont want to have to deal with him. With anything.

But God doesn't seem to care as I'm pulled into a full dining-room table, God seated at the head.

-0-0-0-0-0-0 (ha ha it's fuuuun to do thiiiis) Oh dear, guys, leave ALL of your religious beliefs right here. I have done some very strange things to God.

I sit at the table, only recognizing one face. Frank, right next to me in the clean, white dining room table. I look around the table, ignoring Frank. He looks like he wants to say something to me.

A girl, sitting at the head of the table, coughs, directing all our attention to her. She's a short thing, flat as a board and her face is imperfect and full of blotches. She's not beautiful in any way, yet demands attention from the room (filled by males as Gerard notices).

"I have called you all here to make a very important announcement, a new law if you will, but first we eat." The girl smiles, and food appears before all the sins. Gerard grabs whatever is closest to him (a glob of Jell-o) to distract myself from Frank. Frank.

The goddamn devil in disguise.

Soon everyone is eating, trying to make small talk with their neighbors. Everyone except Frank and I. We eat silently, slowly, focusing entirely on the food. It's not even good food, something you could find at a one star restaurant. Not what you would expect from God.

Not that I expected God to look like a twelve-year-old girl.

I sigh, realizing I need to use the bathroom. I see a white sign, upon looking around, labeled 'Toilet'. It looks very misplaced in the room, but I follow the arrow anyway. I've soon relieved myself of my bladder's contents, and I start to make my way back to the dining hall when i see Frank walking towards me.

I look around, desperate for an escape in the abandoned hallway, coming up with nothing. Shit.

"Gerard, we need to talk." Frank says, walking towards me. Shit shit shit shit shit. Shit.

"Erm... okay..." I say, still looking around desperately for an escape. Suddenly Frank's in front of me, his wide steps making me flinch back. Yeah, Ira, the sin of wrath is flinching away from a guy who is professionally horny. Shit.

"Gerard, I didn't want to have sex with Leon." Frank says, his soulful eyes piercing into mine. Shit. He's so cute when he's serious. "I couldn't help it. It's Lust's ability." He explains.

"What?" I gasp.

God, Gerard. It's what I (and the author's lovely reviewers) have been telling you. He didn't want to fuck the nympho. though, I guess he's the nympho now...

Don't talk about Frankie like that!

There' silence in my brain.

Your Frankie, huh?

I mentally curse myself. No! I mean, it just sorta slipped out...

I can practically see my second brain/conscious thing smirking. Suuuuure it did.

"Um, Gerard?" Frank asks and I'm instantly pulled from my mental argueing. Thank the Lord... who is actually in the room next door, hah...

"Gerard, are you okay?" Frank asks me, a look of concern splattered across his face. I don't even try to convince myself that he's not concerned. I just pull his lips to mine and kiss him. And boy, do i kiss him.

I don't so much as hesitate to push my tongue into his mouth, surprising him by wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer to me, pressing our bodies together. And I love that Frank kisses me back.

After a few minutes, either of us are satisfied but we agree we need to get back. Frank smiles at me, and I smile back. Surely I can trust him. I can trust him... but can he make me do things for him too?

"Hey, Frankie, how does this lust ability thing work?" I ask.

"Well, basically I can tell people to do whatever I want and they'll listen. It doesn't work on other sins, though." Frank explains.

"...And you have to fuck someone every..."

"Week." Frank grins. I gape at him. Why do I have to kill every other day when he gets a fucking week? "Looks like you got the short end of the stick, sugar." Frank jokes, following my though pattern.

I sigh, and smile at my boyfriend. "As long as you're there with me."

We walk back into the dining room, hand in hand. God eyes us warily, her brow furrowing as she sees our intertwined hands. The fuck?

Frank and I sit down, smiling softly at each other.

God clears her throat. "I'd like to say that as of this point in time contact between two Sins is forbidden, due to the untimely death of our last Lust."

Frank and I gape at her in horror. She can't be serious, can she?

(Chapter 12 End)

Frank's P.O.V.

"You can't be serious!" I shout. She is not splitting Gerard and I up after we just got back together!

"Of course I'm serious." She says, looking at me like I need to be taken to an asylum. I suppose I am dating a mass murderer…

"But you can't split Gerard and I up!" I protest angrily. There is no way I'm parting with Gerard, especially since he won't be alive much longer.

The insolent girl wearing the title of God chuckles. "Of course I can."

"No." I growl.

Gerard squeezes my hand, smiling sadly. "There's nothing we can do."

"I'm not leaving you! I want to stay with you for as long as I can!" I tell him, trying to express my desire to be around him in the way I punctuate my words.

"I think we might have used up all our time." He says, looking to the ground sadly. He's defeated. I'm not.

I turn to God. "Bitch, here's how it's going to work. You are going to get your scrawny little PMSing butt out of our lives, stop butting in it's irritating and very unattractive." I tell her, staring the little fuck down.

"I am God! You can't tell me what to do, you're just some worm with a fake love and an inflated ego!" She yells back at me.

She did not just call my love for Gerard fake. Tell me she didn't.

Oh, that bitch is going down.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!" I yell at her, my anger rising to uncharted levels.

She smirks at me. "You heard what I said. You can get your little ass out of here, gay boy. It's not like you'll ever see your boy toy again, so just leave your blasphemous fake love behind. Scram." She says, venom lacing her every word.

Bitch slap

Oh, she just got PWNED! The slap reverberates around the room, and I pull Gerard out the door into the real world. (A/N: Yes, there was a door all along. Why the dramatic entrance then? 'Cause I fucking felt like it.)

"Frankie, you okay?" Gerard asks after we step back into the real world. An alleyway in God knows only what towns. Actually, I hope God doesn't know.

I am, of course, still fuming. "I'm fine." I say roughly, pulling the infamous killer Gerard Way onto the main street, filled with people speaking a language I know well. English.

"Are you sure? You don't seem fine." He says, looking over the new terrain.

"Yes, I'm sure." I say. Then I reconsider it. "No, I actually do need something."
I decide.

"What is i-" He starts to ask, but is cut off by me covering his mouth with my own. And we stay like that for a moment, just two boys kissing on a crowded street.

"Fags!" I hear someone call. I ignore them, licking across the bottom of Gerard's lip and demanding entry. He allows me, of course, and soon it's apparent we're going to have to stop this tonsil hockey as we both have a problem in our… lower areas.

I reluctantly break off the kiss, smiling at my boyfriend.

"Anything else?" Gerard asks meekly. I grin.

"Why don't you find out?" I ask flirtatiously as I pull him into a nearby hotel.

(insert mad butt secks here. I don't want to write it. Somehow, I think this story is too innocent… even though it's had a sex scene already. Sorry, I'm not writing it. Tough luck.)

~Mwa ha ha time lapse… a week or two, in Spain (dunno why, just 'cause I said so)~

I lay next to Gerard, smiling softly at the wonderful memories I've made with Gerard over the short span of time since I bitch-slapped God. I smile softly, thinking back carefully of every moment I've shared with Gerard. I memorize them, not wanting to forget a single thing about him in the years to come. (A/N if you read the first copy I posted of this, Frank does not kill Gerard then commit suicide like he did last time)

I hear Gerard stir next to me, and I look over at his sleeping face. You would never guess he has so much blood on his hands. You would never guess how much he hates the things he's done from looking at his angelic sleeping face. A face completely coverd in the tattooed vines.

I stare up at the ceiling, tears making their way to my eyes as I think of the future without him. I don't want to be without him. But you only live once, right? I can't just let Gerard go, but I can't follow him. That would be selfish… or would it? I have no friends, no family left to care. The only people who would be bothered by it would be the people in charge of cleaning up my body… wouldn't want to make more work for them, I guess.

I hear Gerard groan next to me, and I snap my head to look at him, and his vines are moving all along his body. I hear a ripping nose and I know it's his flesh.

"Oh God, no." I whisper, trying to get out of the bed but tripping over the sheets. I land on the floor, taking the tangle of sheets with me. I can smell Gerard's blood now, such an awful stench. I see the vines slither off the bed, around my ankle.

The tattoos pull me up, back onto the bed. I scream when I see Gerard. The vines have come out his eyes and mouth, cutting his sockets and marring his flesh. What's worse, though, are the vines and innards spilling out of his open stomach. This isn't Gerard anymore. This is the vines doing this.

Because Gerard is dead. After such an awful life, Gerard is dead.

And it looks like I'm next.

(Chapter 13 End)

LE FIN!