Kathychu's 1st Ferard! :D
Author's Note:
(if it's really stupid... remember it's only my first time. Save the pitchforks and torches for later! :P) I'm laughing as I write this...but that's probably just the insanity finally kicking in. :/
-Kathy Chu
The blackness of the night made things difficult to see. Nevertheless, I managed to slip into the house with relative ease. I entered, from a small window near the front of the house. It was just big enough for me to squeeze my body through. I pushed the window shade out of my way, and walked in.
The only light was coming from a small lamp in the corner of the room.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the horrible scene came into focus. I gasped.
Blood. Everywhere. Splattered all over the room in hideous shapes, almost as if someone had been painting with it. I shook my head at the ridiculous idea. Whoever was here was obviously dead. I was Frank Iero, the Angel of Death! I could sense other life forms, and there were none here. At least, not anymore.
I crept farther in. My eyes found the couch: a young man was sprawled on it, arm fallen limply on the couch's side. His eyes staring blankly upward and his mouth hung open. A massive chest wound tore into his shirt and deep into his flesh. I was aware the blood was still sickeningly wet. The knife that had been used was on the floor next to him, coated in a deep red.
"Shit. He's actually pretty good looking. Minus all the blood. Sucks he's dead." I said quietly.
I sighed, dejected. Just get on with it. Don't get attached to a dead guy! I thought to myself, and shut off my thought process before my mind had time to argue.
Alright. I knelt down and pulled the man into my arms. I brought my hand and placed it onto his unscarred temple. Power suddenly seemed to flow between us, all around us, in indigo waves, making the world become bright. Well, the world was irrelevant. I drowned it out and concentrated solely on the man in my arms.
"Release your hold on this earth. It is yours no longer. Rise forward as spirit."
The familiar, obnoxious mantra came to me easily. Well, I had done it enough in my lifetime, (if you could even call it a lifetime), being an Angel of Death and all. Still, something about tonight was different...
Someone coughed, and it wasn't me. In a flash I opened my eyes and looked down. The dead dude was stirring, something that had never happened before. His eyes were closed. Hadn't they been open only a moment ago? My own eyes grew wide with horror.
"Release your hold. The world isn't yours. It belongs to the LIVING." I said in a hurry,
"Please! Your not supposed to be alive, you're DEAD! DEAD!"
The dead guy opened his eyes, and grinned wildly, "you're not too good at this, are you?"
He leaned in and kissed me. I jumped back, letting go of him out of shock. We both stood up. The man started laughing at me, although it wasn't a cruel laugh, it was a playful, fun laugh. All the same, I felt completely humiliated, even though I had no idea why. I had done everything right. He was the one that wasn't following the rules!
The man sighed and fell back into the couch. He picked up his knife and began playing with it, tossing it from one hand to the other.
"it's never worked...," He mumbled happily.
"Killing yourself? What do you mean?" I asked.
"I...can't...die." He said slowly.
He gripped the knife in his palm and stabbed himself in the heart. Afterwards he just let it hang from there, a sickening display.
"I...can't...die." He repeated.
I gasped at the guy. It was too horrible to see the knife jutting out of his bloodied chest.
"I've lost so much blood my heart shouldn't be able to beat. But it does. Name's Gerard, by the way."
Gerard smiled a crooked smile at me: "You're a bit short to be the angel of Death, aren't you? Cute enough to be one, though. In a dark, passionate sort of way."
"You're sick. Do you always hit on guys on your deathbed?"
"Only the one's I like." Gerard answered.
"Why can't you die?" I asked.
It wasn't the most polite question in the world, in retrospect, but it seemed the thing to ask. Especially since I was beginning to feel really awkward.
"Who says I even want to die?" Gerard said.
Gerard was way too happy. Anyone with a knife jutting out of his chest shouldn't be this happy. I couldn't help but watch him in awe as he stood up and pulled the knife from his chest, throwing it to the ground. His amazingly brown eyes never left my own as he did so.
"The massive chest wound was a clue," I mumbled.
The apparently not dead man laughed and brushed a few strands of dark hair from his eyes, pushing them behind his left ear.
"Chest wound?" He asked.
My eye's dropped down to his wound. It was healing itself right before my very eyes. This was all getting too weird for me. I wanted to step back, but one of his hands came up and caught my shoulder, keeping me in place. Our eyes locked again.
"Maybe I didn't really want to die. Maybe I just wanted to see your face. Fate could of set it up for us to meet." He said.
A thought suddenly struck me: "Are you a vampire?"
This made him laugh harder: "Fuck! I sure hope not. Pale's not really my color."
I smiled, slightly relieved. Listening to Gerard laugh was taking a lot of the tension away. There was still the matter of...
"So, uh, what are you?"
...however.
Gerard thought for a moment. He looked like he was really considering what I had just asked him. Finally, he responded.
"Hungry," He answered.
"Hungry." I repeated, dully.
"Mmhmm. Defiantly," He responded cheerfully, then added: "you're so cute."
Gerard leaned forward and kissed me again. I didn't fight it this time. He let go of me, slowly, and brushed a hand down my cheek.
"We'll have to do this again really soon," A coy smile appeared on Gerard's lips. He raised an eyebrow, "What is your name?"
"Frank," I said, breathless, "Frank Iero."
Gerard leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Well, Frank Iero. I'll be seeing you around."
I nodded silently, unsure of what else to do. Gerard walked toward the door. He opened it a crack, as if to check if anyone was outside.
"Where are you going now!"
"Starbucks," he replied, absent-mindedly, "you can come if you want."
"I can't, sorry." I sighed.
"Well, you should probably get out of here. This isn't my house." Gerard answered.
Before I could ask him what he meant, he was already gone, the door swung shut. He was already on his way. A minute later the door opened again.
I expected to see Gerard, but it wasn't him. Someone who looked similar to Gerard, (probably a few years younger), minus the blood, with lighter hair and glasses walked in. His mouth dropped open.
"WHAT THE FUCK?"