Gerard, raven, tussled hair swooping over his forehead, sweat soaking every last fibre.
Frank sat across from him, transfixed on not Gerard's greasy mane or blood spattered fingertips that tugged away at it. He was looking into his eyes - the windows of the soul that in Gerard's case glowed a sweet cinnamon, perhaps reflecting Gerard's yearning for someone; someone to rely on, someone to help him trek along the cold, hostile paths that were ahead. Not that Gerard would ever admit to this. He was in denial of a feeling that was only human, something anybody out there would understand; but no, Gerard Way was an incredibly emotional boy with raw emotion eating away at him from the inside, rabid monsters planted in the core of their prey.
"Gerard," Frank caught attention, his lips gentle as he spoke as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere; a quietness that was sickening, the boy's could feel at each breath, the very ambience tearing their jaw's further apart and clambering inside their sore, dry mouths. It clogged their windpipes : an invisible torture.
Gerard coughed.
"Yes?" he questioned, his red-coated finger halting it's dance amongst the raven threads.
"You should clean your hands," Frank said with unsure authority.
"Not my fault they conceal alcohol in booby traps," he gives a coy half-smile. A twisted look that only a character such as himself can really pull off; saying so, only really Gerard. Frank hid the smile that threatened to show and ruin his strong position.
"Please," was Frank's only word.
"Why? Does it make me look ugly, Frankie? Do you want me to be pretty? Do you want me to be your sparkly little princess?" Gerard grinned menacingly, his taunting amused him.
Frank blinked.
Gerard's grin fell in that instance; the look on Frank's face said far too much in far too little; a blank expression that only hid what Gerard could really see. The eyes; the windows of the soul. Frank's, a heart-melting, warm brown that reminded Gerard of only but the best chocolate in the world. They read yearning; but at a whole different level. They suggested, threatened, promised.
Gerard leapt clumsily onto Frank's icy body. His hands felt hastily for Frank's reedy wrists, once his own, stained hands found them, they were pinned at his sides. Frank had a brief spark of fight that died in mere milliseconds, he gazed ahead at the boy's lustful expression. He felt lips meet his own; fragile yet rough. The pink broken skin of Gerard's felt odd against the supple satin texture of the younger boy's, yet it elevated them both - as they came apart, they only craved more. Frank was first to take action this time, he leant closer to Gerard, clasping the collar of his shirt and forcing him closer.
Frank found it exhilarating. Never would he have acted this way if it wasn't for a persuading liquid called alcohol that freed his mind of worries and transported him into ecstasy. All these opportunities, kissing Gerard, grabbing him and proving his passion, had been available but never truly possible. Shy and innocent; Frank felt alcohol was his escape; it was confidence confined in a bottle. Twist the cap, swig it back and everything coaxed success.
Frank felt Gerard's tongue grace his bottom lip, questioning entry, Frank accepted; his own thrust into Gerard's as he tried to taste even more of him. It was cigarettes and alcohol and coffee, the tranquillity; the adrenaline that either of those brought wasn't even close.
Butterflies. Gerard winced, the butterflies had grown stronger, they were practically wasps, piercing his stomach with an even more adamantine blow each time. Frank was experiencing the same, a wild frenzy swarming, back and forth in anticipation.
They parted, looking at each other.
"Very princess like," Frank breathed heavily.