Love is hateful and unkind yet so simple in the practice of two lost souls joining into one. Frerard oneshot
Looking above you the skies had become a plain murky grey like the sleek feathers of the great grey owl gazing intently above you in the drooping beech tree, its eyes half lidded though startlingly clear like glass, pierces you with undeniable wisdom as it raises a pair of colossal wings, mottled with light brown feathers. You try not to make a sound in fear of disturbing the intriguing creature, when suddenly the magnificent bird soared up from its crooked perch, causing a light shower of snow to fall upon your black cloaked shoulders and cropped, silvery white hair. The air was frigid yet dry and nipping, making your eyes water at the intenseness of it while the iciness penetrated through your grey scarf, stinging your nose in the process and leaving the heavy scent of woodland pines hanging gently around you.
“Ashes to ashes...” The booming yet un-emotional voice of the minister droned across the acres of tired tomb stones half sunken in the unkempt grounds. Bored and lifeless they hunched over, as if cowering from the bleak cold that lingered as well as being ever-present around the ancient church, some of the graves collapsing into the stiff terrain more than others. They crumble and fall like the occasional tears of the stony angels resting against the glowering mausoleum in the centre of the cemetery.
Movement at the corner of your eye causes you to turn and watch the figures near the farthest and most neglected part of the graveyard. Bony fingers gripped the faded cloak that was once a shining ruby as the flimsy casket was lowered into the freshly dug hole in the ground. Sniffling, he turned away from his pale, lifeless mother who even then, had the expression of being disturbed and restless. He placed a few sad looking snowdrops at foot of the shallow grave. Tears fell slowly one by one on to the dead ground.
“Goodbye mama.” He murmured softly, his voice barely audible even in the silence.
Shivering at those words you follow him even more silently than the falling snow itself, all the while keeping to the shadows just to be sure he doesn’t see you.
The gravel and bitter frost crunched softly under his feet as he made his way back through to the shadowy forest, aging pine trees standing tall and intimidating. You could tell from his breathing that he was scared, his breath coming out in short quiet gasps though the rest of the woods were silent. Nothing filled their gnarled caverns but the whispering November wind, rustling the immaculate snow on the stiff ground, tales of loss pictured on the withered, deteriorating leaves as they lay in hopeless heaps scattered carelessly beneath the trees. Their life cut short by the sudden change of temperature as they look to the skies in wallowing self-pity and remorse. Crumbling, fading,
Spindly, frost-encrusted trees were shuddering away from life, black shadows and figures cast from the intertwined limbs of the trees.
Nervously he carried on towards his Grandma’s house, a Grandma who would scold, shriek and beat him to the brink of unconsciousness, yet will always be careful to provide some sort of coat or shawl to hide the bruises and scars, only now there would be no need. He would be now placed automatically in her care.
Lost in his thoughts he came to the shaking realisation that he had wondered off the faint woodland trail and was lost in an unfamiliar part of the forest. Heeding that he had now stopped into your territory you move nimbly so that you were in front of him (of course making sure you were still well hidden first.) Unfortunately you had stepped on a twig causing the boy’s eyes to turn daringly wide and alarmed like a deer caught in headlights. Cursing inwardly you stepped out from your sanctuary of darkness and raised your hands in front of you trying to show his you meant no harm. Clutching his hood around his shoulders in a death grip and furrowing his eye brows in frustration, he looked around the forest hoping to find the trail.
In a brief second your gazes locked, you studying his trim, refined features, taking in the subtle curve of his rosebud lips contrasting with the shocking paleness of his ivory skin, as well as the sharp contours refining his small face, the medium length locks of dark chocolate hair and the wide hazel eyes that were tinged so much with yellow they looked almost green, while he himself gasped out loud in horror and panic at your blood red eyes. Eyes more striking than rubies and roses put together, more so that they had been said to be almost as pure and potent as blood… but then nothing had even the mere qualities of that rich liquid (or at least that’s what you thought.)
You take a step forward, (hands still raised) but he stumbles backwards collapsing into the soft snow. Stuttering, he manages out a small sentence through the now howling wind,
“Wh-wh-who are you?” he gasps, the wind ruffling his hair into form a sort of halo around his head. You shake your head, deciding that (for his sake), you wouldn’t answer the truth in fear of frightening him more.
“You don’t need to know, little riding hood”
The boy looked annoyed at this answer though he probably understood that you were dangerous. Trying to calm him, you decided to question him about where he was going even though you already knew the answer.
“Where are you headed then? It’s far too cold and dangerous; you’re just the right meal for a pack of vicious wolves, little riding hood.” You chuckle mirthlessly, but to your surprise he shot out a furious glare and an equally irritated answer,
“To my Grand mama’s house noble sir, now if you please I would like to be on my way,”
“A nobleman should help the ones in need,”
“Yet though we may seem poor, we do not need help,”
“Oh really now? That is all too fine my little riding hood, but like I had so kindly put out it is far too cold - et periculosum, so I would like it to be my honour of taking you in for the night and caring for you until dawn when you may be free of my presence, I’m sure your Grand mama would not mind you being half a day late,” You smirked, the corners of your mouth threatening to twitch into a smile that would surely expose your deadly, elongated canines, far worse than a wolves.
Scrambling up from the snow he straightens his hood and snaps back a polite but sharp answer, the frenzy of dread struck like lightning through his face and disappeared altogether just as fast, a stern mask placed quickly over it to hide his discomfort of upsetting his grandmother even in the slightest.
“Gratias - thank you but I will have to kindly surpass your generous offer sir,”
“I truly insist however,”
“Of course you, do but men of honour and class should respect others wishes,”
“They should also take care of the weak,” I smirked winking before you did so.
“I humbly beg your pardon but who said I was weak? By the Lord’s name I am certain it was neither you nor me,” He replied grinning
“Then you are satisfied with the fact of walking alone?” His breathing was now deep and lustful
He nodded airily yet somewhat regretfully you noticed.
You cock your head to the side as if examining his to make sure he was absolutely sure and decide to suggest a compromise.
“How about, my little riding hood, I accompany you through the woods until we get to your Grand Mama’s house. Then you will be rid of my obnoxious presence and I will have known a pretty thing like you did not get scarred by the black taint of the forest surrounding these parts, eh?” You suggest a twinkle in your eyes.
“In addition to my proposal I would kindly like to point out that it is now eve and I shall stubbornly reject your refusal anyway.” You state matter-of-factly. He paused for a considerable amount of time, undeniably surprised at how right you were about the time. His breath-taking smile broke through your reverie like the sun after clouds, two rows of perfect teeth shone at your scarlet eyes.
“Why ever not?” He grinned,
“I would be honoured to be escorted by a fine sir like yourself,”
“Perfect.” Your grin mirroring his as he hesitantly takes your outstretched arm.
Laughing inside at how easy it was to dissuade him, you gingerly stroke his cheeks, a small blush crept upon his cheeks before he ducked his small head in an adorably bashful way.
Once again you observe his movements and looks, noticing for the first time that he did not seem so childlike up-close.
“What is your age little riding hood?” You question him gently, your arm slung carelessly over his shoulders,
Smiling he responded, “Let me see, I was born on the 31st day of October, the year 1581 making me-“
“18 years as it is the year 1599, the fifth day of the ninth month,”
Smirking at your eager outburst he returns the question, in which you reply.
“23 years as I was born on…The 9th day of April in the year 1577, why do you ask little riding hood?”
“No reason sir and to be known to you my name is Frank Anthony Iero the 2nd, first Son of Sir Francis Anthony Iero the first, not little riding hood,”
“If you have managed to have a proper title of lineage how is it that you live with the paupers?”
My little red riding hood was now openly beaming,
“Father met Mother at the fruit cart, he asked for an apple and Mother was too distracted by ‘the charm and wit’ so she had given him a tomato, enough of them, they are from the past and you are my present. I need to ask, you have been trying to string me along like a lost doglet yet I do not know your name, will you be so kind as to let me know so that I will not have to suffer in silence?”
You both laugh through the silence engulfing you both in the dreary woods. You decide to tell his your actual birth name from three centuries ago,
“Sir Gerard Anthony Way of Wiltshire,” you reply, extending your right arm in greeting to his tentative grasp.
Walking slowly but quietly you start talking once more about his life and yours, stopping out of shock rather than interest on if he had ever thought of seeing the world, a wish you could most easily grant.
“Say that again little riding hood?”
“I said, that my view of the world is horribly distorted; people, places, they mould into one in their own superficially selfish lives, only interacting when their paths cross one another until eventually disappearing into the distance. Memories of lost ones faded. Husbands and Wives living side by side, forced to carry one another to the end because of some silly lies placed into their hollow heads, the word “love” just that, a word so often used and so undoubtedly common that it has been used on any situation for just the tiniest shallow flirting and then BAM, you’re married. Bond to your partner in eternal vows before our so called Lord, (if you excuse my French) .My view on life, Gerard, is that of what I only know, no beauty or love, the world holds no meaning of joy or happiness to me. Pain and suffering is what we know and live by, the rarity of true love becomes as if it was a butterfly flown astray into a raging war. Like I said the people and places are the living dead, alive but deceased, wasted and lifeless. All beauty that I had once existed has bleached and dissolved into fine nothingness long ago, “he looked up at you then, smiling mirthlessly. While soft, brown eyes glossed over with tears of the past and present resonate in anguish and long experienced pain, a stray tear, escaping the corner of his eyes.
You were nearly at the little lodge, the dark evening sky a deep shade of violet blanketing the melanoid cover of the trees. The pureness of untouched frozen rain radiating back a ghostly glow and reddening the soft rosy cheeks. Eyes so full of innocence that are now breaking your once beating heart as they cry out in silent desperation for a love that would never lead to heart break.
Grabbing hold of his shoulders roughly, you stare into his eyes, searching for a sign of mockery or some sort of joke behind his speech.
Horrified to find none, you stroke away the drops of chastity dripping from his dainty chin onto the floor and whisper calmly but firmly, your sweet breath fanning gently across his face.
And for once in all your long life you remember what love feels like, you remember how it can consume you and eat your soul without any regret. Longing and Lust and desperation to cling on to that one single body and never let go.
The feeling of not in any way hurting that person, a feeling of being completely and utterly whole. As if the thing you were searching for in life existed in this one being.
Show him then, show him you truly care Gerard.
“I have not known, in all my years a being as broken as you. I myself have suffered years of regret and self-loathing, but you – oh my sweet little riding hood, my Frankie! - You have waned into yourself a confine where you do not believe happiness exists! I have cursed the world for the horrors emitted onto the most defenceless, but this! This is a wrong that should have been put right years ago! A person such as you should never have encountered this, this monstrosity! As innocent as the moon’s delicate, wavering light shining hope onto the creatures that I have dwelled against and as exposed yet prime as a fledgling of an owl, you Frank Iero should be loved.”
He made a noise, halfway between a bleak laugh and a sob.
He doesn’t believe you, make him believe.
You drew his chin up, gently forcing him to look at you. The hood fell back from his head as you rested your forehead against his. His eyes wide, no longer full of sadness and fear but of longing as well.
“Do you trust me?” You whisper,
“I do,” he sighed, his eyes half lidded in ecstasy
Tell him you love him.
Leaning in you catch hold of the back of his neck, lightly stroking patterns there while inhaling the sweet musky scent of slight vanilla and firewood. He wraps his little arms around your neck too and snuggles deeper into your chest. Warmth and happiness practically glowing from him. Laying his head down, delicious wavy hair tickle your chin, you squeeze tighter. You wanted him, needed him to stay and love you back. His presence calming and placid against you, the intoxicating beat of his heart pulsing and running with rivers of blood flowing and rippling with the forbidden wine, calling you towards the hollow base of the neck where the river courses through his body the deepest. Its scent like no other. Thousands of blossoms of sweet smelling lilacs and freesias smell blunt to the rich banquet, a smell that won’t compare to the finest food laid across a royal table. Heady and vibrant, it holds the metaphorical quality of the forbidden fruit from the Garden of Eden, immortally luring yet so deadly against your vices and virtues because to get this fruit you must kill. Kill and enjoy the feeling of taking another’s life just to satisfy your own.
Terror washes over you as you realise the fullness of Frank’s situation. Guilt and self-loathing consumes you as you abruptly pull away, the dark cloak blowing lightly behind you as the wind drops its pace, the impression of demonic wings, wings of a monster because that was exactly what you are, a monster. Frank reaches out, stumbling towards you like a lost child.
“Whatever is the matter Gerard?” he asks, full of concern.
But you didn’t need concern from him, he was a child. You were a thousand year old vampire who killed selflessly, leading this baby and yourself to believe in love, something so selfish that you had to snarl in ager at your stupidity.
Stupid, moronic, ignorant fool! How long do you think this will last? A year, maybe months? And then what? He’ll be dead, either from you or the harsh world. There was no way to comprehend or find a solution to your problem.
“Gerard, stop. Please, you are frightening me with your abrupt incessant behaviour,” he whimpered.
He just doesn’t get it though does he?
“Frank, it will not work. I am a monster, I have fallen from innocence and grace, you are mortal, I can give you anything and everything but love because it will destroy you! “I shout.
Sadness leaking into your voice forces you to remain numb, so that it wouldn’t have to be any harder than it is. Your brother once told you that the truth may be hard and cold like the eternal ice in the mountains but it was the truth and the truth was always the best. No matter how much you feel like breaking and splintering into small fragments of loss and despair as you feel you’re about to lose yet another loved one. Once again you feel void of emotion, but you know that it’s just building up underneath the surface, a raging current under the blue heavens, shouting and whispering out a name.
Something strong and vice-like gripped your forearm to turn you around, arms draped around your shoulders and a pair of warm rosebud lips collided with yours. You freeze, rigid in place until longing tugs at your heartstrings a little too hard. Slowly but surely your lips take action against his, melding and embracing the smoothness.
Love is hateful and unkind yet so simple in the practice of two lost souls joining into one.
He breathes in, you breath out. You tighten your grip, he tightens his.
Love is hateful and unkind yet so simple in the practice of two lost souls joining into one.
Breaking apart, the world is spinning. Trees have gone from dark shadows into tall, luminescent towers of green. The sun washing golden rays and lighting the tiny crystals of snow, a carpet of sparkling white and a sky of pristine blue, but all you can register is how close Frank is, how his lashes cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones that are tinged with pink, the unnatural softness of his hair brushing against your hand as you stroke it back. His eyes full of fierce adoration and determination
He is beautiful.
“If you have fallen, I want to go down with you too,”