:Frerard: Gerard gets into 'war' with someone he would rather not 'fight' with. Inspired by the Green Day song 'Espionage'.
Gerard inhaled his cigarette and adjusted to gun on his shoulder. This felt so new, so unreal. He actually couldn't believe what he was doing. The sun was a bright yellow and streamed through the trees above him. It hit his eyes. It was difficult to see. He lay on his belly on the dirt, under a large tree, the heat radiating uncomfortably off his body. How long had hee been sitting there, waiting? He inhaled on his cigarette one last time and extinguished it in the dirt.
Then he heard it. The gently crunch of leaves and dirt beneath thick army boots. He could feel the black paint on is face begin to smear as sweat dripped out of his pores. How close were they? It was impossible to tell. In his nervous state, it seemed as if the sound was coming from everywhere. He heard it again, this time is was louder, closer, coming from his left side. Now his whole body felt vulnerable.
Gerard used his elbows to prop himself up and held his gun in place. As soon as he saw movement...he'd do it. It would be over. That's all he needed. One more and he would be the winner.
Winner. If you could call it that.
This was a pethetic attempt at sport. He didn't understand why people did this. It was insane- shooting at another human being for game. And yet his adrenaline was pumping through his veins, body shaking with anticipation. He had gotten the others, watched them go down as he pulled the trigger, he could do it again. Yes...yes he could do it a thousand more times if he needed.
There was movement. It was directly ahead of him, blocking the blinding yellow sun. He was going to do it, to be the winner, to be victorious, to-
There was the sound of a small explosion and the impact on his right shoulder. Red splattered everywhere, onto his neck, his face, his torso.
No. No, this couldn't be happening! He heard a laugh ahead of him, coming from whoever had shot him.
"It's over, Gerard."
He knew that voice. It was one he'd heard every day for the past.../so many/ years. He knew that voice, he loved that voice. But he loved the person it belonged to even more.
"Frank!" he cried out. "Why, man, why?!"
Frank let out a low, dry laugh.
"I had to," he replied, lighting a cigarette after slinging his gun over his shoulder. "You were the only one left."
It was over. It was really fucking over.
Gerard stood up and wiped the red off of his bulletproof vest.
"Dude!" He cried. "How the hell did you even see me?!" Frank smiled at him with sleepy eyes.
"I could smell your cigarette. You should really stop smoking."
Gerard laughed and put his gun on the dirt. He approached Frank and put his arms around the other man's neck.
"I think you practice paintball in your spare time," he teased. Frank took his cigarette and held it between two fingers. He leaned in and kissed Gerard gently on the lips.
"I think I'm good at war."
"I think you cheated."
"I think you're jealous."