The one where Frank and Gerard go on a killing spree because they hate American Idol. FRERARD Two shot! Now beta'd.
``next to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims' and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawn's early my
country tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?''
He spoke. And drink rapidly a glass of water
At 5678 The McCrackens have just finished having sex. At 5680 the baby is awake again, screaming steadily through the thin walls of the suburban housing block. Across the street, Pete is in the middle of being kicked out of his family home for the second time this week, Mrs Wentz is crying and throwing china at his car. On the TV Stacie can’t believe the scandalous story line forcing her to confront her former best friend and possible evil twin about her cheating, asshole boyfriend. In Gerard’s house, 5679 March Ave, there is no sound but the quiet hum of the television.
Yet, Gerard isn’t feeling very peaceful.
He flicks from the news and its anchor ranting about his troops and legalising more fire in the US on his TV screen and over a few reality and feminism channels before he stops on an American Idol repeat.
“And what’s your name?” Gerard’s forgotten who the girl is; she’s famous for something. Used to be a singer, a dancer? Perhaps.
The guy looks like a modern day Lenny, he wrings his hands out in front of himself and smiles “Niguel,” He says.
The judge next to the first girl is British. Gerard’s not sure why he’s famous. “And what will you be singing for us today, Niguel?” he looks bored.
“Where is the love,” Niguel says.
“Off you go then.” The British judge commands.
Gerard’s about to flip over when the guy starts singing. He’s terrible, flat and loud and complete with clumsy, semi-sexual dance moves. The judges start laughing. Gerard sighs and flicks off the TV.
His head hurts, has hurt since 6PM. It’s 2AM now and all he can think about is how easy it would be to walk the three ft to his closet where his shotgun is waiting. He keeps it loaded, the closet’s even unlocked. It would only take 30 seconds to shoot across the room, a minute until he could be hammering on the door of 5680. The husband would open after a minute; he’d take his time even in his tiny home. But he wouldn’t think twice about opening the door to an unexpected visitor at two in the morning. Then he’d see the gun.
He pops another sleeping pill into his mouth and counts to ten.
“Hey, Gerard this is kind of a bad time.” Joe, the husband, half apologises, his head just poking out through the door. He’s young, younger than Gerard but already he’s wearing moisturiser.
“Shut up, get in and do what I say.” Gerard makes the gun more apparent now, jolting it in his hands and curling the top of his lip up into a snarl.
“Joe, who is it?” The wife calls. Her voice has a southern twang. It gets worse when she’s angry.
Her husband lets Gerard in, he backs over to his wife and child without saying a word. She screams and holds the baby up over her chest. Gerard shoots Joe, nocking him through the back window on a quick thoughtless fire. His wife screams again. “Don’t shoot! I gotta baby!”
The baby is screaming now too, the noise hammering on Gerard’s skull. He sighs and cocks the rifle. The wife screams again and chucks the baby up. Gerard shoots. He hits the baby, showering the mother in its blood.
The woman opens her mouth again to scream but a different- yet just as unsettling- noise screeches out of her instead. It’s his alarm clock.
Gerard’s car has been blocked again. He’s already late, still sleep-stupid and his head is giving him hell.
The car is yellow and garish and completely ridiculous, it’s expensive with real leather seats and a radio with a screen, it probably goes really fucking fast out on the open roads, but for now, in suburban Jersey, at 8:30AM, the stupid, fucking car is sitting stationary, parallel to Gerard’s drive and boxing his own- cheap but still respectable, thank you very much- car out of the street. Gerard groans and tramples over the dead flowerbeds separating his and next-door’s lawns.
“Hi,” Gerard says once Joe has finally finally opened the door, “Your car is blocking mine.”
“Oh” Joe says, “Uh yeah now’s really not a great time.”
Gerard doesn’t have his gun to cock in reality but he does have a pretty good ‘not really my problem, buddy’ face, which he saves for especially tricky assholes like Joe and his wife. “Yeah, well, I need to get to work and it is your car.” Gerard bargains.
Joe nods like he really, really understands what Gerard is saying and yet he makes no move to grab his car keys or move his fucking ridiculous, yellow hot-wheels.
“I need you,” Gerard uses that tone of voice that would normally work with infants or, well, ignorant pricks, spelling out every letter and nodding on each syllable with wide, exasperated eyes, “To move your fucking car.”
Joe holds up his palms all whoa, dude ya got me, put the gun down! And gestures for Gerard to move out of his porch “You only had to ask, man.”
Gerard watches in horror as Joe simply reveals his car key hidden, not very well, in the front left wheel. Where does he think they live? Disney Land. Fuck. And then finally the sunshine car is out of his way and he can be out of Joe’s hair.
“Hey Gerard” Julie smiles at him as he enters the building. She’s the new receptionist, just moved from Comedy Central two weeks ago. Already she’s better than every other asshole in the office. She always smiles at Gerard.
“Hey Julie,” Gerard grins back at her and grabs a mint from the dish on her desk. They’re meant for visitors but Julie never calls him out on it. “How’s your morning?”
“Good thank you”
Gerard nods and carries on up to his cell.
Everyone in his block is talking about American Idol. Gerard squeezes through a group encroaching past the water cooler and into the isle leading to his cell. He slumps down at his desk and wizzes on the computer. Four new emails, one from his brother, two from his boss, one from a lottery in Canada. He clicks on the one from his boss and prepares for the long hall. The Breakfast Monkey has been rejected again. He needs to work on Billy and Mandy, get it done before the Halloween special in two weeks.
He should get to work; he has a lot to do.
“Was he actually insane?” Collin is asking, waving his coffee mug around in the air and making elaborate eyebrow gestures to the rest of the slacker’s circle, “What was he thinking going on a show like that?”
Gerard hunkers down and starts tracing the lines of Mandy’s face. He can do this even with rowdy, cock-sucking distractions, it’s fucking Billy and Mandy. They are circles with bodies.
“I know” Denise chimes in, she’s laughing unpleasantly, her tight bun drawing more attention to the harsh lines on her old face “And then he wouldn’t even stop!”
Gerard pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s getting another headache despite the tablets he took this morning. Too many late nights, too much caffeine, too much stress. He pushes all thoughts away and tries to get back to his work. It’s just tracing, he can do tracing.
“Hey, Gerard,” Ray says, sliding into his seat opposite Gerard. “You see American Idol last night?”
“No.” Gerard grumps, his pencil moving quickly now.
“Oh really?” Ray asks, “This guy man, a fucking loon,”
“No, I saw him, I just. I don’t watch the show.”
“You saw him but you don’t watch the show?” Ray’s laughing a little.
“Yeah, Ray, not everyone watches that crap.”
Ray rocks back in his chair and Gerard gives up, spinning around to face him. He’s got pretty good at putting on a pissy face. He so doesn’t have time for this; Mason is already watching him like a hawk.
“So what? You’re too good for American Idol?” Ray asks.
“Yeah Ray, I’m too good for stuck up rich fat cats making fun of dumbass teenagers who want to be the next Brittany Spears,” Gerard says in one breath, spinning back around to do his work.
Ray squawks a laugh “Dude no! Some of those kids have real talent, I mean sure they have to put some whackos in but it’s entertainment.”
“None of those kids have talent. Sure, some of them are pretty, some have nice hair, some of them can hold a tune and some of them will make something of them selves one day, maybe. And what is entertaining about a grown man having a breakdown on stage, exactly?” One slide is done, he should have done at least five by now. Gerard hates American Idol.
“He was loving it!” Ray exclaims, grinning and flaunting his hands dramatically about the air.
“It was cruel, they were mocking a man with clear disabilities.” Gerard snaps.
“Dude, don’t get like that, didn’t realise it offended you so much, chill out!” Ray holds up his hands and tries to turn back to his own work “I’m just saying some of those kids are really talented, they deserve their riches, it’s good to watch it work out for them.”
Gerard tries hard not to growl. Ray’s an okay guy most of the time. He’s just fucking stupid, is all. “Oh, I get it, and I am offended. Not because I've got a problem with bitter, predictable, whiny, millionaire disk jockeys complaining about celebrities or how tough their life is, while I live in an apartment with paper-thin walls next to a couple of Neanderthals who, instead of a baby, decided to give birth to some kind of nocturnal civil defense air-raid siren that goes off every fuckin' night like it's Pearl Harbor. I'm offended that they act like it's my responsibility to protect their rights to pick on the weak like pack animals, or that we're supposed to support their freedom of speech when they don't give a fuck about yours or mine.” Gerard breathes out a sigh and rakes some of the loose hair from his face.
“So what? You’re against freedom of speech now? You know that’s in the Bill of Rights?”
Gerard is trying to keep his cool, he really, really is. “I would defend their freedom of speech if I thought it was in jeopardy. I would defend their freedom of speech to tell uninspired, bigoted, blowjob, gay-bashing, racist and rape jokes all under the guise of being edgy, but that's not the edge. That's what sells. They couldn't possibly pander any harder or be more commercially mainstream, because this is the "Oh no, you didn't say that!" generation, where a shocking comment has more weight than the truth. No one has any shame anymore, and we're supposed to celebrate it. I saw a woman throw a used tampon at another woman last night on network television, a network that bills itself as "Today's Woman's Channel". Kids beat each other blind and post it on Youtube. I mean, do you remember when eating rats and maggots on Survivor was shocking? It all seems so quaint now. I'm sure the girls from "2 Girls 1 Cup" are gonna have their own dating show on VH-1 any day now. I mean, why have a civilization anymore if we no longer are interested in being civilized?”
The whole office is looking now. Mason is standing over his desk. “Gerard, we need to have a little chat, in my office.”
“You’re firing me for harassing Julie?” Gerard asks, incredulous, “I didn’t even- she- let me speak to her.”
“No Gerard, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Mason sighs. His forehead is thick with wrinkles. Gerard hates the guy.
“I’ve worked here for seven years!” Gerard cries, “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid, Gerard, that I am very serious.” Mason sits with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His suit is grey, his fingers yellow from nicotine. “Julie filed a report against you, you should be thankful we’re not taking stricter measures.”
Gerard sort of feels like punching Mason in his aged, patronising face.
Julie hands him the book he lent her two days ago on the way out. At least the guards don’t throw his stuff onto the street.
“Hey, Lyn,” Gerard calls into his mobile. He’s just left the CN grounds, it’s a nice day. Gerard can’t even bring himself to hate that.
“Gerard!” Gerard can hear the smile in her voice, puttering in the background, the radio.
“I was just checking this weekend is still on.” It’s been too long since he saw his daughter. She rarely visits anymore.
“Hmm, yeah do you wanna speak to her?” Lindsey sounds distracted.
“Sweetie,” Lindsey’s voice sounds muffled now; she’s not speaking to Gerard anymore “Yeah, honey put that down your dad’s on the phone.”
“Mom, I’m almost done, no wait”
“Cath, you can play after just- he wants to talk to you now. Give me that”
Gerard holds his breath.
“Hi, dad” Cathy sighs into the phone. She’s not happy to be speaking to her dad.
“Hey sweetie, just calling about this weekend” Gerard’s dabbled in enough diva fits for today, she’s just a kid, he reminds himself, she can’t help being an asshole.
“Do I have to go?” She asks, dragging out her vowels like the high school girls on TV.
“What d’ya mean do you have to go? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
He hears Cathy sigh and can practically feel her rolling her eyes “Yeah dad I just- your place is so boring.”
“What? It’s not boring, we normally have fun don’t we? I got drawing things and uh, those biscuits you like, the pink ones!”
“Dad,” She puts on the fake cheerleader voice again. Gerard never let her watch that much TV when he and Lyn were together. “I already have plans, I’m not going.”
“Whoa, Cathy!” Gerard tries but the phone’s already been handed back to Lindsey.
“Sorry, Gee” She does sound sorry. “Look, I’ll talk to her but you know how she is.”
“I might’ve known, if I’d have ever spent any time with her.”
He can hear Lindsey giggling; he thinks he can hear kissing. “That Jimmy?”
“He’s there a lot?”
Lindsey sighs the sigh she saves especially for Gerard and mutters something inaudible, “Gerard, I already told you.”
“Told me what?” Gerard snaps. He’s having a fucking terrible day.
“We’re engaged Gerard, he lives here now, you know that”
“Yeah well, just ask him how my balls smell when he’s down there.” Gerard bitches and hangs up before Lindsey can reply. His head is killing him.
With Gerard’s doctor, it’s never good news. He’s been waiting three weeks for the CAT scan results already and now Bob’s giving him this look; all sad and sympathetic but still formal and doctory. Gerard has already maxed out his daily sigh allowance but fuck it, if Dr Bryar is going to sit and look at him like that with those eyes and that beard Gerard is going into his overdraft.
“It’s not good news,” Bob admits from across the screen of his laptop. Gerard hates that, he can’t remember the last time he had a conversation without a phone or a screen dividing him and his recipient. Gerard gestures for Bob to elaborate with his eyebrows. “I’m afraid it’s a tumour, now we’re not sure if it’s malignant or not yet but…”
Gerard stops listening. He’s probably in shock; he thinks that’s common. Isn’t there that advert about all the different ways cancer patients react to the word? He makes out Bob saying something about risky operations and telling his loved ones and he nods and signs some stuff, stuffs some booklets into his bag, lets Bob show him out.
He tries to ring Lindsey back to apologise but she’s either out or not answering, that’s kind of Gerard’s fault. He must drive home but the forty minutes out of the city fly by in no man’s time, his thoughts are completely lost, he can’t even bring himself to grieve. He really does get the shotgun out at home, it’s not the most glamorous of weapons but after three beers and more shots he can’t really bring himself to care. There’s a dumb show on TV; someone’s super something sixteenth.
The girl on the screen is blond, all her friends love her, she’s the perfect daughter, she’s going to have the best party ever, she’s not just being used for her parents money. Gerard sighs and cocks his gun.
“Daddy, you bought me the wrong car!” The girl screeches.
Gerard blinks at the TV where a perfectly respectable Italian something or another sits in a Beverly Hills driveway. The girl is crying, pushing past her parents and throwing herself into the house.
“No! No, fuck you, Dad you’re a fucking cunt! I told you, I already told you which one I wanted!” The Dad’s trying to calm her.
Gerard tries to re focus on the gun, breathe and squeeze the trigger.
“I thought you loved me! It’s my birthday, you ruined everything!” She whines.
Gerard can’t do it. Gerard can’t do it listening to this girl. Gerard can’t die with her voice being the last one ringing in his ears. He’s fucking sick, he’s fucking dying, he’s fucking alone in the world and if he’s going to have one ounce of peace in the afterlife he’s not going to go watching her super crappy sixteenth. No fucking way.
He hops up off the sofa, taking the gun with him, and storms out of the house. He swipes the stupidly placed key from the tragically yellow car and rams it into the lock, its owners wont be able to hear him over the baby. He revs the engine and drives, drives along March Av and out onto streets where no body knows him. He drives until his finds a motel in Philly and then he slams into the room and tries to fucking breathe.
There’s enough space in-between the trees of the cops, that Gerard can drive almost all the way up to the school and still be covered mostly by the woodland. He’s caught sight of the girl from the birthday show and is watching her chat idly with her friends- a couple of cheerleaders and a jock- now that she’s been let out of school for the day. He leans forward in his seat to get a better view, he could probably shoot her from here, but he has a better plan.
“Don’t you think the whole watching kids from your hidden car in the forest thing has gotten a little old?” A kid asks, with his hair cut like a London Anarchist. He’s short, in baggy jeans, leaning up against one of the oaks.
“Fuck off, kid.” Gerard snaps.
The kid just rolls his eyes and hoists his backpack up so that the straps are actually on his shoulders “Whatever,” he says and wonders off. Fucking weird kid.
Gerard waits until all her friends are gone then slips out of the car. She hasn’t driven off yet; she’s applying lip-gloss in the mirror. Gerard taps on the window “Open the door.” He says and cocks the gun. The girl opens her mouth to scream. “Shut the fuck up, okay?”
The girl nods and opens the car door, Gerard takes his handcuffs from where they’re hooked onto his jean belt-loops and fastens her hands to the steering wheel. “You know, you can take the car, I didn’t want it anyway” Her eyes big and panicked. Gerard just rolls his eyes and warns her once again to be quiet. “What are you doing?” She shouts.
Gerard soaks a rag in vodka from his bag and stuffs it into the petrol pump, fumbling with his lighter until he finally sparks a flame, wafting it against the material, it catches alight. Gerard grins and starts to walk away. The flaming material falls out of the car and starts burning away on the ground. Gerard sighs- his fucking life- and attempts to pick up the flaming cloth. The girl’s screaming now, attracting attention from other students. “Fuck it,” Gerard says and just aims the gun at the brat’s head. He shoots, her blood covers the windows.
And now it’s time to fucking run.
“Whoa, dude! You just killed Gloria Stark!” The kid from the forest is chasing after him, he looks like an excited puppy; grinning and cheering and fucking skipping along with Gerard “Fucking A, man! God, I wish I’d seen it better.”
Gerard gives the kid a look, he must be at least 16, with all those piercings, but he can’t be any more and 5 Ft.
“No, seriously, you have no idea!” He carries on “She was the biggest bitch ever!”
“Kid, you gotta go.” Gerard says, sliding into his car.
“My names Frank,” The kid, Frank apparently, beams, “You are so cool.”
“Mmhm,” Gerard nods and wrenches the car back into life “See ya, Frank.”
“Do you mean that?” Frank calls after him, bouncing up and down on his toes and waving as Gerard reverses out of the forest.
“Definitely not!” Gerard hollers back and doesn’t watch the preppy teen disappear into the trees. Fucking weird kid.
Gerard literally has the gun in his mouth when he’s interrupted a second time. There’s someone knocking on the door, it’s 11PM and there’s someone knocking on his motel door. Gerard suspects the cops. Gerard is so not going to answer the door. He places the gun back into his mouth and closes his eyes three, two
“It’s Frank!” It’s the kid from earlier, smacking his palms against the door and shouting through the thin motel walls “Lemme in! Help! Help!” The kid sounds fucking desperate.
Gerard runs to the door and yanks it open, Frank is standing there, hand raised to knock again, there appears to be no emergency as he pushes past Gerard into the small room. “What?” Gerard asks, bemused.
“You weren’t answering the door,” Frank explains and collapses onto one of the two single beds, “I figured that might work.”
“No,” Gerard says, “I mean, what are you doing here?”
“Oh” Frank says hopping up onto the bed “I wanted to help y’know? Like, who are you going after next? There’s this jock at school that keeps giving me trouble but you might only kill girls, I don’t know. Or, or there’s that math teacher that keeps trying to give everyone high fives if they get a B on their pop quizzes. He fucking sucks,” Frank has started jumping up and down on the bed, in his shoes, getting mud everywhere. Whatever, Gerard wasn’t planning on sleeping in it anyway, but the movement is kind of giving him a headache. “Or anyone who plays lacrosse or, or it’s fucking sexist to only kill girls, you know?”
“Sit the fuck down I’m not killing anyone else.” Gerard snaps, slamming the door with a decisive click on the latch, “Anyway, how do you know I’m not about to just point this thing on you?” Gerard asks, shifting the gun in his palms.
Frank just rolls his eyes but at least he’s stopped bouncing. He moves over to the desk and starts fiddling with Gerard’s meds, “Well, you just kind of said you weren’t going to kill anyone else. Plus I’m way too cute to shoot.” Frank picks up Gerard’s suicide note and begins unfolding it. Gerard wants to stop him.
“You are not too cute to shoot” Gerard tries to snatch back the letter but Frank just does this little jump out of Gerard’s reach and hops back up onto the bed.
“Dear Cathy, I love you but this world will be a better place without me XX, Dad.” Frank frowns at Gerard, “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s” Gerard begins.
“Oh no! You are literally the only cool person I have ever met in my life you can not be one of those sad saps! C’mon, man!”
“Give me that!” Gerard snatches back the letter “and you don’t know a thing about me.”
“Ugh” Frank moans, “C’mon, what’s your name?”
“C’mon, Gerard you can’t seriously do this.”
Gerard raises one eyebrow “Actually, Frank, I could seriously do this if you would just give me some peace and quiet.”
“You suck, you know that?” Frank whines, collapsing onto the bed with a huff.
“Are ya done?” Gerard asks. His fucking head, seriously.
“Wait, no” Frank says, “Can I watch?”
Gerard blinks “Watch,” he repeats. Frank nods, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You want to watch me kill myself?”
“Yes” Frank nods again “Please.”
Gerard doesn’t know what to say because- Hello, yes, the teenaged boy that invaded his motel room, whilst he was trying to commit suicide, now wants to watch the carnage unfold like Gerard is some crummy actor out of a B-side horror movie. “Okay?” Gerard says, stretching out the syllables and giving Frank his best You Are On Crack look. He raises the gun back to his mouth. Frank’s eyes are really big. He moves his finger to the trigger.
“Wait!” Frank stops him, holding up his palms and somehow widening his eyes even more. “Can I just- I mean, before you blow your brains out...”
Gerard raises an eyebrow.
“Could I maybe,” He does some kind of vulgar gesture, “you know, blow your brains out?” he seems to think about what he’s said for a moment then “Well, suck. Your dick. Can I suck your dick?” He corrects himself, grinning.
Gerard drops the gun. “What the fuck?”
“Please,” Frank begs, hopping up off his perch on the bed and coming right into Gerard’s space “I never meet anyone cool and I’ll make it good, I promise” he lurches forwards as if to kiss Gerard, who only just dodges, catching Franks wrists.
“What? No, Frank you’re like, how old even are you?”
Frank looks vaguely hurt but mostly just ambitious “Old enough,” He says and tries to loosen Gerard’s vice grip “C’mon!”
Gerard looks at Frank for the first time then. He is fucking pretty; with big hazel eyes and a little upturned nose, his mouth is full and pink. Gerard’s kind of going to hell anyway, his brain reminds him. Frank must catch Gerard looking because the next second he’s pulling his lip into his mouth with his teeth and closing his eyes, making a soft noise in the back of his throat. “Please, Gee” he mules. And Gerard’s only human.
“Okay” Gerard says, the air in the room is thick now that Frank isn’t jumping and giggling and being a general nuisance kid, he’s just looking at Gerard with heavy lids and wet lips and okay, Gerard thinks fine. “Yeah, yeah” he grits out and allows Frank to climb into his lap.
Frank just continues to stare for a moment, like perhaps he’s trying to work out how exactly he’s going to suck Gerard’s dick from this position. His hair’s kind of in his face and his mouth is open just a crack and Gerard really doesn’t think it’s rocket science so he pulls on the back of Frank’ neck so that their mouths can meet. The kiss is oddly chaste, considering, and Frank lets out a small sigh when Gerard moves his own thin lips against Frank’s wet ones. He runs his hand up into Frank’s hair and tugs lightly as Frank opens his mouth more, allowing Gerard’s tongue in with a small whimper. Gerard is getting hard kind of quickly and as soon as Frank realises this he grinds down, his hands wrapping around Gerard’s neck.
“Yeah?” Frank whispers, pulling back from Gerard’s mouth to kiss his neck.
“Yeah” Gerard says, although he’s not sure what he’s agreeing to anymore he just knows he really, really needs to get off.
He wraps his arms down under Frank’s thighs and picks him up, the kid’s fucking tiny, all skin and bones and blissful sighs. He makes a surprised noise, discovering himself in the air and tightens his grip on Gerard’s neck. Gerard lays him back down on the bed and climbs on top of him. He stares, just for a moment, at Frank’s flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes, his hair is rough and long over his face, the bleached white sides growing roots. He’s fucking beautiful, fucking debouched and sweating and trying to pull Gerard back down. Gerard holds his wrists again and pushes them up above his head, Frank arches his neck and closes his eyes, still letting out small whimpers.
“Seriously” Gerard asks, “How old are you?” Frank’s skin is really smooth and Gerard can’t tell if he’s just using moisturiser and shaving regularly or if he doesn’t have to yet. He’s not sure he could stop now anyway, though, even if Frank did turn out to be a lot younger than he had thought.
“Sixteen” Frank says, “Well, sixteen in two weeks” and fuck he is young. “Gee, come on” Gerard nods and leans down to kiss Frank’s neck, scraping his teeth against the reddening skin. Frank arches his back and tries to get his hands free in vain. Gerard smiles against Frank’s skin and tightens his grip. “Gerard” he gasps.
He bucks up into Gerard and squeezes his eyes shut. Gerard grinds down, releasing one hand so he can palm Frank through his skater boy jeans, he’s really hard, moaning and gasping on each touch, one hand coming to trace Gerard’s jawbone, the other still held against the bed. Fuck, Gerard really is going to hell. Frank shouts when he comes, though it’s not a word Gerard’s ever heard before, all vowels and noise and breath.
“Let me,” Frank says once Gerard has let him up, aiming for Gerard’s zipper. Gerard doesn’t stop him. “I just,” In the end Gerard has to help Frank undo his jeans; Frank’s fingers are useless and soft like melted butter.
By the time Frank’s actually got Gerard out of his underwear he’s ready to blow. Frank just looks at first, maybe sizing up Gerard’s dick or whatever it is kids do these days. Gerard’s about to toss a pissy comment about taking pictures of it and lasting longer but then Frank looks up at him from crotch height with big youthful eyes and Gerard just looses all of his words.
Frank takes in just the head first, sucking lightly and tightening his pink lips, he’s still looking up at Gerard and yeah he may be young but the kid’s done this before. He sinks slowly, shutting his eyes as more of Gerard’s dick disappears into his mouth, his cheeks hollow and he hums and he eyelashes flutter completely closed. Gerard can’t look at him anymore. He closes his eyes too and just feels Frank around him, his lip ring is cold compared to his skin and dick but really it’s just another sensation. Frank doesn’t quite deep throat him but he goes down far enough, he’s still making small noises of agreement and Gerard can feel them vibrating up through his spine. Fuck, he’s gonna come soon.
He tugs on Frank’s hair and Frank really moans now, opening his eyes to stare up at Gerard. Gerard does it again a little harder and then he’s moaning too as Frank sucks, deep and fast and his head moving up and down Gerard in an almost comical fashion.
“Frank,” Gerard says “Frank I’m gonna,”
Frank just smiles around him and wraps a fist around Gerard’s base. Gerard’s orgasm hits him like a punch in the gut, only good, so fucking good. Frank pulls off before one of the last spurts is done and Gerard’s cum trickles down his chin. Frank licks his lips, Gerard swipes a thumb over where he’s missed a spot.
“You don’t have to do it, you know?” Frank says, confusing Gerard momentarily “There are plenty more Gloria Starks in the world.”
Gerard looks at the gun sitting miserably rejected on the floor. “You’re right,” he says. His headaches gone for now, he’s got at least a few more kills left in him.
“We could go after her friends, or our Head Cheerleader or those assholes who say memes in real life or anyone who listens to Nickleback or kids who drink hand sanitizer for their Friday night kicks or really anyone who uses hand sanitizer in general, just wash your hands for fucks sake” Hyper kid Frank is back again.
“Frank, we can’t just kill the people you don’t like.” Gerard frowns, his eyes still fixed on Frank’s mouth.
Frank, apparently, is totally over the whole awesome blowjobs thing though because he’s busy jumping on the bed again and listing off everyone in the world he thinks deserves to die “and anyone who has an Instegram account or takes photos from a high side angle oh and people who wear fake Ray bans or ride horses or, or anyone who eats meat!”
“I eat meat” Gerard protests.
Frank looks really, really appalled for a second before he snaps his fingers in an eureka! Moment, “Her parents! We kill her parents!” Gerard looks approvingly at Frank and cocks an eyebrow “I mean, they’re the ones who made her that way, right? They totally deserve to die!”
“Let’s do it.” Gerard says and picks up the gun.
Frank doesn’t shut up the whole ride over. Gerard really doesn’t get him, all piped up into kill and destroy and full of so much hate and yet still strangely innocent, he likes Frank though, even if he is fucking weird. He’s decided the sex thing can’t happen again, he’s going to kill Gloria’s parents and then he’s going to take Frank home and that will be that, no more murders, no more underage sex and no more Gerard. He’s not really sure why he’s even letting Frank come along this far, if they get caught this could ruin Frank’s life. They’d both be sent to prison. Gerard doesn’t think Frank would cope very well in a high security jail. He half listens to Frank’s ramblings about All Time Low verses Blink 182 and promises himself that they won’t get caught.
They pull up outside the house twenty minutes later. There are flowers and pictures of Gloria littering the large brass gates and candles glow dimly in-between the bouquets like cat eyes. The house is big, it would fit in more in LA than Philadelphia with big white pillars and sweeping bay windows but there it stands, in the middle of suburban Philly, tall and obnoxious.
“She used to hold parties here every month,” Frank says, “I never went.” He sounds chatty but when Gerard looks over he’s bighting his lip and staring miserably out of the car window, solemn and oddly still.
“I want you to stay in the car, if anything happens you drive away, okay?” Gerard says, holding Frank’s eyes.
Frank nods and smiles, still chewing on his lip ring “Okay, Gee.”
“I mean it.” Gerard warns.
Gerard sighs and nods then grabs the gun, when he turns back to Frank he’s still sitting with his seatbelt on, watching Gerard. Gerard nods again and opens the car door. Despite the time The Starks are still up, the chandeliers shining through the white curtains of the front window. The father is quick to answer the door, probably expecting a mourner of a police officer. His eyes widen when he sees the gun.
“Get back into your house, don’t say anything.” Gerard commands and presses the gun into the guy’s gut. He swallows and nods, backing into the house and nearly tripping over the rug. Gerard follows the guy into the living room where his wife is crying on the sofa, she stands up, seeing her husband being held hostage and screams shrilly. Gerard sighs, “Shut the fuck up, okay?”
She nods, eyes crinkled and tearstained, mascara leaking down onto her cheeks like black spider webs. “You can take whatever you want,” The husband says, trying to sneak over to his wife, Gerard glares and he stops in his tracks.
“Oh believe me I know,” Gerard nods “and I will, thank you.” He fires twice into the man’s head.
The wife screams and runs out of the room, using a different doorway to the one Gerard’s standing in. Fuck. Gerard chases right after her, sighing and cursing under his breath, as he has to hop over the scattered furniture she’s left lying in his path. The bitch is screaming and calling for help, hurrying through the house and bumping into tables and chairs, her vision distorted by tears. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gerard thinks as she nears the front door, she’s going to find fucking Frank.
But then the woman stops screaming. Gerard stares and there’s Frank eyes wide and holding a knife to the woman’s gut, he looks up at Gerard and giggles. “Fuck!” he beams “I got her!” The woman is still struggling and trying to push Frank away. She’s taller than Frank but Frank has a fucking knife in her intestines so it’s pretty much a fair fight. “Fuck,” Frank says again and drags the knife up, blood spurts out of the wound and up into Frank’s face, the woman is eventually still. “Gross” Frank says gleefully and lets go of the knife, the woman falls to the floor in a bloody heap.
Gerard just blinks.
“Shall we go?” Frank asks, wiping some of the gore off of his face with the back of his arm, it isn’t very effective.
“I told you to wait in the car.” Gerard says and starts out of the door.
“But I got her! You saw me, I totally saved your ass!” Frank’s jumping up and down and clapping as he follows Gerard out of the house. His personal fucking cheerleader.
“I had it under control.” Gerard insists, climbing into the car without looking at Frank.
“Nah-ah, she totally would have gotten away if it weren’t for me,” Frank says, and then, totally casual, “Do you wanna fuck me later?”
Gerard’s actually sort of prepared for that kind of question this time though, so he doesn’t even look at Frank as he sighs and says, “No, Frank. You’re getting cleaned up then you’re going home.”
“You really, really suck, you know that?” Frank pouts and looks out the car window pointedly.
“I thought that was more your forte.” Gerard sighs again and flicks some of his sweaty hair from his face. He was not built for running.
“So it was good?” Frank’s smirking now, leaning right into Gerard’s space. Gerard raises an eyebrow. “It was great for me.” he says and breathes down Gerard’s neck.
Gerard slams on the breaks “Do you want to walk?”
Frank grumps something in reply and huffs back into his seat. Gerard has a feeling he hasn’t given up yet, though.
Frank’s just gotten out of the shower, his clothes are still damp and slightly pink from the blood and his hair is wrapped in a towel, he looks sleepy and sweet as he comes to sit by Gerard on the bed. Gerard shifts so Frank can lean against the headboard with him and doesn’t flinch when he rests his head on Gerard’s shoulder. He hasn’t tried to get into Gerard’s pants since the car incident and Gerard’s glad; he really needs to get Frank home.
“Are you sure I can’t stay with you?” Frank asks, looking up at Gerard with damp eyelashes.
“You’re too young, Frank, you need to stay with your family.” Gerard half wishes he could take Frank with him, just steal him away in the night so that they could live on the road, alone together. It’s a stupid thought though, Gerard hasn’t got long, Frank’s just a kid.
“My family? My family is an alcoholic whore of a mom who passes out at six sharp every night so she can be up and refreshed by eleven the next morning to drink her self into a coma whilst her douche bag boyfriend rapes me behind the caravan we fucking live in. I can’t stay there, Gee. You’re my one chance out of this town, you can’t leave me.” Frank sobs, his eyes brimming with tears.
And now Gerard is stuck between a rock and a fucking flaming pile of shit. “We should kill them,” He says eventually, not looking at Frank.
“No” Frank says, “That would be too obvious, we can’t kill people we know, the cops would be on us like that.” Frank snaps his fingers for emphasis.
Gerard nods “Okay.”
“We should go somewhere far away, somewhere no one knows us,” Frank continues, “Somewhere hot too, I’m really done with this weather.”
“Any more conditions?” Gerard ask, watching Frank unwrap the damp towel from around his head.
“Yes” Frank says, throwing the towel onto the floor, his hair’s still damp and clings to his forehead a little where it’s getting long. “You have to kiss me now.”
Gerard rolls his eyes but obliges, bending down and cupping Frank’s cheek. Frank’s lips are chapped and soft and he opens up straight away when Gerard brushes them with his tongue, letting Gerard explore his mouth. His cheeks are still wet from tears and Gerard can feel the salty water on his nose as he tilts Frank’s head just so. He kisses Frank until they’re both dizzy with it then pulls Frank down onto his chest. He’s too tired for sex right now but it’s nice too just cuddle, Frank’s all soft and pliant as Gerard folds his arms around his torso, smiling into Frank’s hair.
“Night, Gee.” Frank says and nuzzles Gerard’s chest.
“Night, Frankie.” Gerard replies and shuts his eyes.
“So, I think we need code names.”
Light’s pouring into the motel room from what feels like every angle, it’s bright and white and Gerard really doesn’t want to deal with that shit right now. The peace from last night has passed and his head is raging viciously, his brain swelling and aching and fuck. He’s not even really awake yet, his eyes are cracked a small way open but his body is still slumped idly on the bumpy motel bed, still, that has to be the best he’s slept for a while. Frank is jumping and chatting somewhere in his peripheral vision and the movement is unsettling, playing tricks on Gerard’s tired eyes.
“What?” He asks, his voice is kind of wrecked.
“Code names,” Frank grins, “So people won’t know who we are.”
“We’re not superheroes, Frank” Gerard protests, trying to sit up on his elbows. Frank’s wearing one of Gerard’s shirts, it completely swamps him like a nightgown but at least it isn’t covered in blood. They’ll have to buy more clothes soon, Gerard packed light.
“We’re kind of superheroes.” Frank says, his voice earnest and his eyes big “We’re doing a public service here. We may not be the heroes this world deserves but we are the ones it needs!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Gerard groans, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and trying not to get caught in the sheets. “We’re not fucking Batman”
“Well you’re not exactly Harvey Dent either” Frank exclaims, jumping down to stand chin to eye with Gerard “Maybe we’re more Joker? Oh! Can I get a knife? I was pretty good with a knife last night.”
Gerard is still not awake enough to follow Frank’s line of thought, Gerard sort of thinks he’ll never be awake enough to follow Frank’s line of thought. The kid is fucking insane. He walks over to the desk where all his important belongings are splayed, he downs a couple of aspirin, dry, and pulls a face at himself in the mirror, the hollow purple under his eyes is exceptionally dark today. He’s getting worse, he must be getting worse.
“I don’t think I trust you with a knife.” Gerard says slowly, checking his teeth and nose in the mirror. Yep, he still has both.
He turns back around, coming face to face with a tragic, close-to-tears Frank staring up at him. “You don’t?” He asks and his voice is small. Gerard should not feel like he just kicked a puppy in the face.
“Uh,” He says instead of an answer. Syntax is for losers, anyway. “Sorry?” Frank just chews on his lip and looks at the floor. Isn’t it only teenaged girls who are supposed to do all this emotional mood swing shit? Maybe Frank’s the exception to the rule. Maybe Frank is a girl. No, Gerard knows at least that’s bullshit.
“Okay,” Frank says, “No, no okay. You need to like, get to know me first, right? Building trust and all that, I hear most couples bond over food, we should definitely get breakfast together.” And just like that, he’s back in the game.
“Sure.” Gerard says and makes a mental note to tread carefully in the future; he doesn’t need to set off any other emotional landmines “But we need to leave town first.”
Frank nods so hard it has to hurt his neck but at least that big white grin is back and all the tightness has gone from around his eyes.
They've been driving north for half an hour now, they couldn’t decide between themselves what to put on the radio so they drive in near silence. Frank is oddly quiet, flicking through the net on his phone. Gerard wouldn’t have pegged him for the type but there he is, clicking away on the little electronic devil.
“I swear to god,” Gerard says eventually, looking at Frank from the corner of his eye. “If you are tweeting about your new life on the murder scene I will drop you on your lily ass right here, right now.”
“Fuck you, I don’t have twitter” Frank bights back, trying to elbow at Gerard without removing his fingers from the keypad “I was just texting my mom, letting her know what I’m up to.”
Gerard slams down hard on the breaks. Frank is just- fucking what? He grabs the phone from Frank’s hands and stares at the screen. He’s reading news reports on the death of Gloria and her parents, his heart is fucking hammering. Where’s his outbox? How the fuck is anyone even supposed to navigate through these phones?
Frank cracks up next to him, “Dude!” he giggles, “Chill, I was just reading up on our pilgrimage so far.”
Gerard can’t decide if he wants to kiss or kick Frank on his cocky mouth. He chooses to focus on his breathing again instead. “You fucking, you, I.” he stammers.
“Can I have my phone back now?” Frank asks, reaching for Gerard’s hands.
Gerard shakes his head “Nah-ah. No more phones” He unwinds the car window and chucks the phone out onto the road before sliding the glass back up and re-starting the engine.
“Fuck!” Frank shouts, still gleeful, “That was awesome!” He watches the phone disappear out of view on the road and then grins back up at Gerard “I’m gonna blow you again tonight.” he decides and re-settles in his seat.
This kid is going to be the fucking death of him.
“No fucking way”
“I said no”
Frank slumps melodramatically back into his seat. Fucking drama queen teenaged boys. Gerard just takes another sip of his coffee and waits for Frank’s inevitable mood change. He’s been pretty stubborn for the last half hour but Gerard’s not bending, the guy changed his pancake toppings choice four times in five minutes, he is not about to get a fucking tattoo on his neck. Gerard shudders; fucking needles, no way. No way.
“Just a little one” Frank bribes, “It doesn’t even have to be on my neck. I could get a face tattoo! Butterfly wings coming out of my eyes, or like a Joker mouth up my cheeks, that would be bad ass.”
Gerard blinks twice, he has got to be kidding.
“Or I could get a full back piece, your face on my back! Or a knife, a couple of knives on my chest”
“Definitely not, you are on crack.” There’s a guy looking at their table, he must be around forty, he’s kind of giving Gerard the creeps.
Frank tips his head back and groans in frustration “You never let me do anything fun!”
“I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours!” Gerard protests, shaking his head and gesturing to the waitress for their bill. The guy is still looking, smiling crookedly.
“Time is just a figment of our own imaginations” Frank says, nodding wisely, “A mere concept man developed in order to divide up the day so he could fit more boring ass shit into his schedule”
“Asshole,” Gerard swears and they exit the café. The man follows. Fuck. “Frank, go wait in the car please.”
Frank turns around to stare at Gerard, “You’re not going to are you? Why do I have to wait in the car again?”
“No, Frankie just trust me, okay?”
Frank pouts but eventually nods, moving begrudgingly over to the car. Gerard turns back to the guy, he feels kind of small without his gun. He is kind of small compared to this giant of a guy.
“What do you want?” Gerard asks, glaring.
“Where’d ya get the kid?” Asshole guy grins seedily, like he’s foiled all of Gerard’s plans but it’s okay because they’re old drinking buddies.
“He’s my nephew.” Gerard lies, trying not to look back at Frank waiting for him in the car.
The guy just laughs, “Yeah, man whatever, he’s your nephew.”
“He is.” Gerard grits.
“Hey look, I could really make this worth your while, y’know?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Gerard assures him and turns to go back to the car.
The guy curses after him but doesn’t pursue Frank and Gerard anymore than that. Fucking asshole. Gerard’s blood is boiling by the time he’s gotten buckled up and on the road, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. Frank is staring at him from the passengers seat, his eyes are big again and his mouth is open slightly. Gerard slams on the breaks.
“What?” He snaps, glaring at Frank.
Frank closes and opens his mouth a couple of times then shrugs, “What was that?”
Gerard feels the guilt instantly, it’s not Frank’s fault he’s fucking beautiful and funny and getting attention from random douche back Johns. “That man, he wanted, uh, he wanted me to sell you” he explains carefully “He thought you were…”
“Oh” Frank’s still using that timid little voice. Gerard thinks of Frank’s stepdad, his blood boils.
“I won’t let anyone touch you, no one’s going to hurt you anymore, okay?” He leans across the gap dividing them between the seats and cups Frank’s face. He kisses him slowly, opening up Frank’s mouth and exploring it with his tongue. Frank mewls, wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck and back and pushing up into Gerard’s space. Gerard works one hand down to Frank’s crotch and presses him through the rough denim, Frank whines and bucks up “You’re with me now, Frankie” Gerard whispers, his lips ghosting the shell of Frank’s ear, “You’re mine.”
Frank groans and bights Gerard’s neck as he comes in his pants, panting into Gerard’s hair as he comes down “Yeah,” he breathes “Yeah.”
The next motel is back in Jersey, it’s not particularly nice but it will do until Gerard’s house is safe again. He’s bones ache and his spine is stiff from driving for so long. He wants to sleep but his head wont let him, Gerard swears it’s getting worse. He needs to shower first anyway, before he can relax for the night; his hair’s gross with grease and grime and his skin feels thick and itchy whenever he moves. Frank’s in the small bathroom at the moment though, the kid’s weird about cleaning, some kind of OCD shit. They haven’t spoken about the car incident, or about the asshole John from the café. Gerard’s not sure what came over him, he didn’t think he was that kinky. Frank’s embarrassed, he can tell but he thinks he wants it, wants what, Gerard’s not sure.
He can’t be that for Frank though, not when he’s going to be leaving him so soon. He no longer feels suicidal but his life is out of his hands now, he is going to die, there’s nothing he can do. He can’t promise Frank anything, he can’t take care of him for long. He wishes he could, he’s protective over Frank, he can feel it every time some asshole glances their way. Frank’s so fucking pretty, he gets a lot of attention, and it’s doing a number on Gerard’s nerves. Fuck, when did he turn into that guy? What’s next? Handcuffs and collars? Gerard ignores the churn in his gut that is so, so in favour of that idea. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If he just had more time.
Frank comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his hair wrapped again in another fluffy white towel. How the fuck does he even do that?
“We need to talk,” Gerard says without realising.
“We do?” Frank asks, looking confused. He pulls down the towel from his head and scrubs his hair with it until it’s a fuzzy mess of black and blonde “I need more hair dye” he comments, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He’s taken his lip ring out and Gerard can see the hole where it’s supposed to sit.
“We do” Gerard says and then, “and your hair looks good.”
Frank grins at Gerard’s reflection and then turns around “What’s up?”
“In the car- I. I’m sorry I don’t…” That’s not at all what Gerard wants to say; he wants to pin Frank down onto the bed to have his wicked way with him. He wants, he wants…
Frank raises one cool eyebrow and plays with the towel still clinging to his slim hips. Gerard doesn’t catch himself staring until it’s too late, his eyes hanging on the soft line of Frank’s hipbone. He hasn’t seen Frank naked yet, he really, really wants to.
“You don’t?” Frank asks, forcing Gerard to scrape his eyes away from Frank’s tanned skin. “Cause you really don’t look that sorry,” there’s a hidden smile somewhere in Frank’s voice, he looks fucking smug.
He makes his way over to where Gerard’s sitting on the bed “You don’t have to be sorry, Gee,” he whispers, leaning into Gerard’s neck.
Gerard grabs Frank’s wrists and growls, knocking them both to the flaw as he pushes himself up off the bed, he’s straddling Frank, his thighs bracketing Frank’s hips where the towel has fallen. Frank’s hard already, fucking teenagers. He looks down at Frank’s flushed face, he’s breathing hard, his cheeks are a delicate pink, his eyes big and round.
“So gorgeous, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, leaning down to whisper in Frank’s ear.
“Ugh” Frank groans, lifting up his chest and exposing his neck.
Gerard decides talking can wait.
“We’ll need a safe word or something,” Gerard says, once they’ve both cleaned up and are tucked up in the double bed.
“A what?” Frank asks, frowning.
“It’s like a word you say when you’ve had enough, like so I know you’re not just playing” Gerard explains, he can feel himself blushing, which is completely ridiculous. Frank wants this, he reminds himself, he wants you.
“Oh” Frank says, “Can ours be pumpernickel?”
“What? Why?” Frank’s so random, Gerard can’t keep up.
“It’s a good word, it’s fun to say” Frank shrugs, as much as his position will allow.
“You realise that as soon as you say it the fun stops, right?” Gerard’s holding Frank’s hand, tracing the lines of his veins with his thumb. Frank’s hand looks tiny compared to his, the fingers are covered in calluses and his skin is a light brown. He probably looks lovely with a tan. “You play guitar?”
“Mmm” Frank says, looking down to where Gerard’s scrutinizing his fingers, Gerard wonders what he’s thinking, Frank’s normally pretty easy to read but right now he looks far away, sleepy and relaxed but he’s hiding something.
“What ya thinking about?”
Frank just shakes his head and smiles “’m tired” He says.
“Sleep then” Gerard says and flicks off the light.
AN I am working on part two i promise it's just taking me a while. Thank you to Monstrice for beataing this