Just language. We hear a little from Gerard.
I remember that day. The day I hurt my baby brother. The day I let that monster lead me down to Hell. I remember the day I died. As I reached out and touched his shoulder, I was painfully reminded of who I was. Where I belong. I am a sinner, I am a alcoholic, I am a druggie...was. Still are in fact.
I wish so damn much that there was no afterlife. I wish we would die, then stay dead. Stay blissfully unaware and still for the rest of time. Because Hell is Hell. There are no flashy flames, no devil with bull horns, no eternal slavery. Hell is, to put it simply, and in terms your little human brains can understand. Hell is prison. You live in a box underground, where, I don't know. I can only be sure we are underground because one day during confession, I snuck up to the very top of the highest building and I could barely smell the comforting earthy smell. I never really realized It when I was alive, but all the silly little simple things come together to create the one thing I had, the one thing I crave now that I am stuck down here: Reassurance. Reassurance that you can get up every morning, and glance up at the rising sun.
He comes on time. Not a second late. I answer the knock and pull the door open immediately, for I had been waiting at the door for my angel forever. He glances up, looking very downtrodden, and even skinnier than when I saw him five years ago, bending over the grave of his brother. I stare dreamily at him for a while, until he shuffles his feet uncomfortably and speaks.
“Uhmm hello, uhh my name is um Michael. Uhh its just raining uh lot out and I guess I was just wondering if you could umm let me stay here a little while. Uhhh just until it lets up a little...?” He trails off uncertainly.
Ahh so the gorgeous boy's name was Michael. I wonder if he bears any resemblance to the famed Michaelangelo. (A/N I've seen the Sistine Chapel, its breathtaking)
“Hello Michael. And of course I would be honored if you would stay with me, perhaps we may engage in conversation to pass the time?” I inquire politely. Which, I don't know why I bother because he's mine and he will pleasure me whether he's relaxed or ruffled.
“Uhhh...um thanks sir..?” Michael says as he steps into my house. “Wow cool house mister!”
I laugh at the “Sir” and “Mister”.
“Thank you, but please, call me Frank. I insist.”
“Ok, Frank cool house!” He smirks very sexily and I feel myself getting slightly turned on: something that hasn't happened in centuries.
“Why thank you, It's quite old and run down. Now please go warm yourself by the fire. May I bring you some tea? Water? I myself will have some coffee.” I explain.
His eyes light up at “coffee” but then slowly die as he trudges over to the chair.
He sits with a sigh, forces a polite smile and whispers “Coffee would be lovely, Frank.”
My name on his tongue makes me shiver.
I address the strange, yet intriguing man carefully, not wanting to upset him. Gerard, bless him up to the highest heavens, warned me about these people. The people that live in the past.
The people that have never let go.
A/N yes sorry its short but I'm in a hurry and wanted to get something posted.
Keep running and reviewing, LAURA