Gerard's always wanted to create a masterpiece. Dark frerard. It's a death-fic. You've been warned.
However, he was far from your average guy. Gerard liked to watch people. Or, one person in particular. Frank Iero. One of Gerard's brother's friends.
Gerard thought that Frank was beautiful. He had chocolate hair, which hung just below his ears, and expressive hazel eyes. Frank was perfect.
Today was the day that Gerard could complete the best artwork of his life. He rang Frank's doorbell, straightening out his suit jacket. Gerard had decided to dress up for the event. He wanted to look as good as possible. It was early in the evening, so he hoped Frank wasn't busy eating dinner.
The door open and revealed a bouncy Frank. He grinned at Gerard, and leaned against the door frame. "Hey, Gee! You look all spiffy. What's up?"
"Hi, Frank. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out at my place?" Gerard proposed, smiling hopefully.
"Yeah, 'course. Be right back. I'm just gonna tell my parents," Frank said, before bounding up the stairs. Frank was back down the stairs in no time, his smile still firmly in place.
They began the walk back to Gerard's house, making small talk about music and Frank's school.
Once they arrived at Gerard's house, Frank stared at the dark windows.
"Where are Mikey and your parents?" Frank asked, a confused look adorning his face.
"Oh, they went out for dinner. I decided not to go, though," Gerard explained, opening the door and allowing Frank to walk in first. Gerard locked the door behind him as he entered.
“Aren’t you gonna put the lights on?” Frank asked, peering into the dark house.
“The power’s out,” Gerard said, and Frank nodded at the explanation.
“Want to go down to my room?” Gerard asked, walking down the basement stairs to his room before Frank could answer. Frank followed him.
When Frank walked into his room, Gerard grabbed something from his bed and edged towards the doorway – successfully blocking the only exit.
“I’m sorry Frank,” Gerard said softly, and Frank attempted to see him through the darkness.
“For what, Gee?” He asked, flicking his fringe out of his eyes and taking a seat on Gerard’s bed.
“For this. Thank you, though. You’ll be perfect for the project,” Gerard whispered, taking a step towards Frank, and the object in his hand glinted dangerously.
Frank saw it and tried to make it out in the dark. When he realised that Gerard was holding a long knife, he gasped and scrambled backwards so that his back was against the wall.
“Gerard, what the fuck is going on?” Frank demanded, his voice shaking.
Gerard walked closer, not saying anything. Frank tried to shrink backwards. Suddenly, Gerard was almost on top of Frank, covering Frank’s mouth with his hand.
“Shh, this won’t hurt a bit,” Gerard soothed, and tears began to leak from his eyes. Gerard slowly dragged the knife through the soft flesh of Frank’s throat, and Frank made a gurgled sound before going limp in Gerard’s arms.
Gerard stood up and lifted Frank in his arms. He walked up the stairs and into the lounge, flicking on the lights as he entered. The room lit up, and revealed the beautiful scene Gerard had already created. He placed Frank carefully in the middle of the room, arranging his clothes so they looked just right. Gerard picked up his paint brush from the table and began to drag it along Frank’s arms and face, creating pictures on his skin.
Once he was done, Gerard stepped back to admire his work. His parents were both stretched out on each of the couches, their skin a ghostly pale, and decorated with swirls of paint. Both had matching wounds in their chests. A single stab through the heart. Mikey, his brother, lay opposite Frank on the floor, blood dripping from his neck, still. His white shirt had turned a dark red, and he too was painted on.
Gerard’s gaze caught on Frank. Frank was even more beautiful now than he was before. He looked so peaceful, so gorgeous. Gerard leaned down again and caressed Frank’s cheek lovingly. He straightened up and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. This would be his legacy. His work of art. Everybody would know him; remember him. It was beautiful.
He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and dialled a number.
“9-11, how can I help you?”
“My name is Gerard Way. I just killed four people.”
Gerard Way took a seat at the dining room table and waited. He didn’t mind going to prison. He had accomplished his one and only goal.
He had created a masterpiece.
You guys; I don't even know where this came from. I'm a fucking fluff writer, I don't write death-fics. But, my brain wouldn't shut up about it until I wrote it so... If it's horrific, I apologise. ^_^'