FicWad

The white was everywhere.
He felt the color crush him, squeeze him, choke him.
It slithered into his brain, drowned out every single thought and breath and image.
But somehow, there still was some screaming left.
Never had he wished so much to not have the ability to feel a thing.
Every inch of him was burning. Sharp jabs of pain, tearing through the white. Every breath. Searing pain. In. Out. Pain. In. Out, Pain.
Pain.
In. Out.
Pain. He was nothing but pain.
In.
Out.
Breathe.
He choked the tears back and tried to hush the scream building up but he just couldn't.
There was no will.
No energy.
Why.
Why.
"Gee?"
Michael.
His eyes snapped open as the icy cold sweat bit on his skin and dripped into his bones and froze everything in place.

"Do you love me?"
She smiled and rested her forehead against his bare chest.
It had been before. Before the plague.
He smiled back and caressed her cheek.
"My God, I couldn't live without you.
Before the curefew. Before they had seen entire families dragged away.
"What would you do if I died?"

He was numb. Detached. Just like the counsellor had told him to be, right?

"You must remember that those aren't your loved ones anymore. They're monsters, blood-thirsty monsters, no lesser than animals."
He hated those meetings, the pediatric ward for the non-vampiric was the only place with enough spare rooms, and those drawings hanging up on the green walls had always made him feel uneasy as the fat, badly-dressed woman who worked as a therapist in that God-forsaken place handed out leaflets on how to learn to 'let go'.
No lesser than animals.
But she was still there, he knew it. He had seen it.
The only time they had let her see him after she had been diagnosed, when he had held her tight and had looked into Lyn-Z's eyes, before they dragged her back into her cell.
The girl he loved was still there.

She was tiny. Thin. So small. So sick. Chained in a straightjacket, her mouth gagged (thank God they haven't sown it shut, he though), her eyes feverishly darting from side to side. Where sunlight had hit, her skin was rashed, red and black, probably infected.

He sighed.

She presses her hands against his face. She's convulsing, shaking, pale. She doesn't know what's happening.
"...Gee?"
"I'm here baby. I'm here."
"What happened?"
They bit you, baby.
But he doesn't dare say that. Deep down, he knows the poison has already started infecting her vital organs, her heart her lungs her brain. But he holds her tight, as the crashing wail of a siren fills the air. It's raining. Mud stains their clothes.

At the thought of her skin against his, the mind started screaming again, even louder.
He vomited, shamelessly, on the hospital floor.
"Oh, Gerard..."
Mikey's voice was far. But it was sweet. And gentle.
Gentle.
Gerard coughed bile.
His brother crouched in front of him, put a hand on his shoulder, looked into his eyes.
"We...we gotta go."
Michael smiled, and it was a desperate smile.

The sun fell along Lyn-Z's back, playfully cast shadows sculpted her naked shoulders, hips, the delicate silhouette of her breasts. Gerard hugged her from behind. She smiled, bent her neck back. He kissed her shoulder, unable to speak.
Perfection.
That was all that moment was.

Their footsteps were loud. Too loud.
They boomed across the hall. The sound made him cringe, but they didn't cover up the screams.
The screams. Coming from everywhere. God.
They would start the moment you walked in and stop the moment you walked out, although many times Gerard had woken up from nightmares of yelping, screeching agony.
He had stretched out an arm, looked for the comfort of her sleeping body only to remember her voice was among the screams.
His knees grew weak as the green lettering appeared.

CREATURE TREATMENT

He stopped, because the energy left him. He couldn't go on. He just couldn't.
Mikey squeezed his shoulder.
"Come on, Gee."
Come on.
They stepped into the elevator and as the doors shut, he felt his stomach claw at his innards once more.

"So, do you like me?"

So many years before. Prom night.

She smiled from the top of the stairs. Joy. Pure joy.
"Don't forget, we have to take pictures!", he had laughed.

He leaned against the wall. Sweating.
I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna cry.

Ding.

And his mind was on fire once more.
The doors opened and the white burned inside Gerard's skull.
But the screams.
Gone.
Everything was padded. Everything was silent.
The oppression of the notion of being alone made Gerard want to crawl into a ball and die along with her.
Slip away.
End it all.
Drown in nothing.

She smiled.
"It's been a good night."
"It has."
"The prettiest prom I ever had. Thank you, Gerard."
"Lyn?"
"Yeah?"
"Will I ever see you again? Y'know, after the summer?"

They walked down another hall, were met by a greasy, little man with glasses too large for his face.
"Are you the Way case?"
Way case.
So that's what their tragedy had become, a fucking case. A number in a database.
He wanted to scream. Slowly nodded instead.
Mikey's cool hand rested on his shoulder. But the older man violently trembled, shook it off.
He wanted to be alone.
"It's OK, big bro. Everything's OK."
His voice was low.
He always whispered when he lied.
They made them wear masks and gloves. They made them tell their names and why they were there. They made them wash their hands and they took their fingerprints. They checked them for weapons and for bight marks. They gave them a badge to keep on at all times

GUEST

Doctors had spent all night trying to save her life. Pumping out the venom. Giving her painkillers and shots. They had tried to amputate the cancrene which had started to eat her hands and skin. Kept her out of the sunlight.
He had never left her side. Didn't dare to.

Gerard zoned out. The more they delved deeper into the treatment ward, the more he felt his sanity ebb away.
The tiny man nervously unlocked a grey, heavy door. He slipped on a mask, gestured them to do the same.
She was there.
Mikey held him up. He knew that or else he would've fallen.
They had tied her down. She moaned.
Their eyes met.

He grabbed her by the waist, spun her around. She laughed a clear, beautiful laugh.
"So, how does it feel to be called Mrs. Way?"
"Old."
They both laughed and he had kissed her, tenderly.

She tried to scream, slamming her head against the metal bed, trying to reach out to him.
He looked towards the doctors assembled around the bed.
"Can...can I--?"
They nodded.
He rushed beside her and pressed his lips against her forehead, squeezed her wrists, tried to chase their pain away. She moaned and tears started flowing down her scarred, ruined, infected cheeks.
She couldn't stop shaking.
He couldn't stop shaking.
He sobbed. He sobbed and shut his eyes and whispered "I love you" over and over and over.
"Hold me."
Her voice was low and old. So old.
It burned into his skull, made him sob even harder.
He kissed her cheek, her neck, never letting go. Never.
The doctors started fumbling with machinery. But he didn't care.
He let his fingers trail along her neck. Her breathing quickened.
"Lyn. Lyn. Look at me."
They attached an IV to her arm.
She was starved, so thin. Her gasp was barely audible.
"No. Lyn. Look at me."
Please. I need to see your eyes.
Your eyes.
She let her gaze travel across his face.
He smiled, and it was a painful smile.
"You're beautiful."
The doctors said something, and then there was the whizz of machinery.
Her eyes suddenly widened and panic exploded in his brain.
God no no let me see her one last time please please please Lyn look at me I beg of you look look look
"Lyn! God, Lyn! Look at me...Look."
She was shaking, lips pursed in a soundless scream.
He grabbed her face between his hands.
"Gerard. Gerard. Don't let go."
"I won't. I won't. My love, I swear I won't."
She was shaking more violently. He could hear her heartbeats. Metallic and terrifying.
"I love you, Gerard."
He kissed her face, unable to stop the sobs, unable to stop anything.
And then everything went quiet.

"What would you do if I died?"
"I'd lose myself completely. There's no life without you."