Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Title: If I leave before you darling (don't you waste me in the ground)
Pairing(s): Edward/Frankie
Rating(s): R
Wordcount: 1,134
Warning(s):UN-BETA'D, Incest, Blood (duh), Angst and Sexual themes.
Summary: With wide bright eyes and pretty pale mouth for kisses, Frankie kissed him before he killed him.
A/N: Something not so quick and overdue, I thought it would be quite fitting as I've being listening to Iron and Wine all night. I hope you enjoy it and as always comments are always appreciated and welcome.
Will you say to me when I'm gone:
"Your face has faded but lingers on
Because light strikes a deal with each coming night"
Each Coming Night
Iron and Wine
000
There's something small and black in the truth that he's dead now.
There's a band aid on his neck, it pinches the soft, torn skin there when he starts crying into his pillow but there's sounds coming from downstairs and the bed's so cold now with his dead body.
It's Sunday, and cartoons play on his T.V. The kitchen floor is clean and his hands are white, like packed snow, but soft and waxy like dosed out candles and Frankie whistles a tune he can't place.
He doesn't remember ever having marigolds but the waters shaded red in the sink and there's Frankie's smile through the harsh 'O' of his mouth and with the lights low he can see his eagle eyes.
He's silent on his feet and he has no reflection in his kettle, stainless steel and a bargain at Bed, Bath and Beyond, it was sunny that day and he cuts his lip on his teeth when he tries to say his brother's name.
He can say now his brother killed him.
"Ed." He feels brittle and pale like sun bleached bone but he see's the gold that reflects the light, the small crease in his brother's face but if he didn't blink he'd think Frankie was a porcelain doll.
With wide bright eyes and pretty pale mouth for kisses, Frankie kissed him before he killed him.
He can't talk without cutting himself, it's stale in his mouth, like pennies from a wishing well and bright like their mother's dress the night see died, drops of that color now on his fingers.
"You ugh get used to that." Frankie's words trip over themselves as he stumbles for paper towels, there's only a few sheets left so Ed pieces that most of his blood was moped up with paper towels.
He doesn't have anything on his feet and feels trapped for it when Frankie hands him the square of paper, quilted and soaks up the red, spreads and is reminded of Snow White, Brothers Grimm.
Ed bolts for the door and nearly brakes his shoulder hitting the jam, and grazes the soles of his feet on the pavement.
He still has on the clothes he died in, his shirt sharp and stiff with blood and he wants his shoes as he climbs into his car.
When he gets out of the city, it's all black and the moon star white. Everything is flat, a few trees and shrubs, they look twisted and dead in the gray half light so when he shuts off his headlights he feels a stone.
He doesn't want to get used to it and cries some more in the middle of nowhere.
Frankie asked for the night that killed Ed.
Home from work and tired Frankie took hold of his hand in a strangely gentle gesture and he was so cool, like someone just come out from the cold and he asked for just one more night.
Ed switched off all the lights and took off his coat, Frankie whispered he was still him, nothing had changed as he pressed his mouth to Ed's ear, where there was no warm breath to make Ed shiver, just the cold.
The kisses, the touching, the hands and lips on his skin weren't desperate or frantic it was all just as before; done in the dark and steady like they had time as Frankie unbuttoned his jeans.
Ed's slacks pinged off the way Frankie liked to do it, and the sofa was harsh under him, the small of his back cramping as they rutted like teenagers, he felt so hot and the leather stuck to his thighs.
Whatever light was left in the room reflected off Frankie's eyes and Ed missed the bland brown of his brother's when they were alive together.
Frankie wasn't breathing so it was only his breath that filled up the space, rubbed raw and pink to the cool that kept him from the edge just enough to make it good.
When he finally came, Frankie was right there with him, with no words on his lips just a smile and a ruptured grunt, a shove that made the coach creak and cool liquid.
He felt hot and alive like running too hard in the dark when Frankie got up off him and they did up their flies, just the smell of sweat and sex that only filled up a little space.
He remembers clear and wide as the ring of a bell, he got to the wall next to the kitchen when Frankie asked for a kiss, just one and he'd go, the lights were on and when it happened they broke the pictures hung on the wall.
Ed feels like he could sit in his car until the sun comes up, just bright and warm but he turns his key in the ignition and feels like a coward for it. As he drives back into the city, were the light will never be as bright or as warm as the sun.
He sits in his car outside his apartment and pulls off the band aid, wincing and pressing were his brother wasn't careful enough not to tear, and feels a little upset at the broken pictures.
Couldn't do much with the apartment because it's a company apartment but he had those pictures, but now they're gone, they both broke them when Frankie took his humanity away from him.
The soles of his feet are sore as he walks back up the stairs and even though he doesn't have a heartbeat he feels the nervous trip of his stomach as his hand turns the door knob.
The lights are off and silence fills up the corners, there's no note on the table, no message on the machine and Ed feels something other the empty, he just knows Frankie's gone.
End
Credits:
Title from the lyrics by Iron and Wine – Naked As We Came
Inspired by Iron and Wine – Sodom, South Georgia