Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Vines
I crawl out of the giant bed, kissing my sleeping Frankie on the forehead. We've been dating for a week now, and have relocated from Mexico to Paris(where else?). I've thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his company, not needing an excuse to run my hand through his hair, to kiss him, to love him. But today, I must kill. Before Frank wakes up, and I have to leave him alone, while conscious.
Now that he knows why I kill, he tries not to get on my case, but I can tell the whole murder thing bothers him. It would bother me, too, if I were him. But it's not as though I can help killing people. When I do it, too, I turn into almost a different person. I'm driven to kill, I want it. But that doesn't mean I like it, no it does not.
I pull a scarf around my neck to hide the awful vine tattoo that is now sprouting a blood red flower. I haven't much time left, I know.
I hurry down the cobblestone street, and it hardly takes me a minute to find a prey. An old man, around sixty. I decide not to do anything special with this man, just get it over with. I creep behind him silently in the deserted street, pulling a shiny blade from my pocket. A swing of the knife, and this man will be dead. Dead from a little knife I keep in my pocket, intended for camping purposes. I hate camping.
I take a few long strides, and am behind the man when I crush the blade into his back, hearing the snap! as the ribs break, the gushing of blood, the scrape of bone against metal. He gasps for a moment, then drops limp, falling to the ground, my kill forgotten. I don't bother to reclaim my knife from the corpse, just walk away, ignoring the blood making pools and rivers in the grey stone road.
I sigh as I walk along the road back to the apartment I've rented, deciding to stop at a coffee shop along the way. Frankie won't be up for a while, anyway. I walk to the beautifully small and quiet cafe, inhaling the air with a smile.
"Bonjour, monsieur. Vous désirez?" The barista asks, examining her nails with little compassion.
"Salut, manquer. Je voudrais un cafe, s'il vous plait." I smile, paying my dues. I look over the empty cafe, grabbing my coffee, finding a nice corner seat overlooking the empty road. Soon the streets have the occasional guest, and I examine them as they walk by, thinking up stories and guesses about their lives. Do they limp, do they text, what do they do and why do they do it? Simply stated, I people watch. But people watching isn't simple, it's complex in the simplest way. One little deal could change what you think of a person and their life. It's amazing, really.
I wonder if any of these people are as messed up as I am, if they belong in an asylum or jailhouse. In hell. I get my answer when I see a face I never wanted to see again. Maybe it's not him, maybe it's not that awful man walking into the coffee shop, maybe it's not the guy who messed up my life for so long. But as soon as I hear him order a drink, I know it's him. The monster who nearly destroyed me. Not that he would remember.
He scans the room for somewhere to sit, and I pray he doesn't decide to socialize with me.
"Bonjour." He says, sliding into the seat next to me.
MYSTERY MAN'S P.O.V. (I'm sorry about this…)
"H-hello." The dark haired man stutters in english. He must not speak French. I wonder how this hot thing got his coffee. Probably mimed. He does his best not to look at me, his eyes in his lap, occasionally darting up to mine, only to be scared away.
"Oh, an American." I smile. "What's your name, sugar?" I ask in my perfect english. Mind you, this boy has an American accent, I have an English one.
"G-Gerard." He says, biting his lip in an adorable fashion.
"I'm Leon, but call me whatever you deem fit." I smile flirtatiously at him. "You wanna come to mine?"
"No!" He all but yells, earning us a glare from the staff woman. "I mean, I'm um, I should be getting back to my boyfriend…"He bites on his lip, getting up from his corner seat. I reach towards his hand, but he flinches away. I stand up, looking him in the eyes.
"You're coming with me." I command, using my magic on him. No, not my flirtatious magic, but literal magic. I say it with the authority I know I have over normal people, and I can tell the beautiful man is tempted to follow. I smirk.
"No, sorry. I have to go." Gerard says, turning around to gather up a messenger bag. My eyes widen at his response. No one ever says no to me. Not ever. Unless…
"Which one are you?" I ask, eager to know. He just looks confused. "Which sin?" I clarify. GErard freezes, and slowly turns around. He chuckles slightly. Nervously.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He informs me. I roll my eyes. "The idea that I am a sin is simply ludicrous."
"Ain't ludicrous at all with that body." I wink.
"Er… Goodbye."
"No, wait! I know you're a sin! I am one too! Have been so for five years!" I tell him, eyes momentarily flicking to the impassive barista.
"Oh?" He asks.
"Yeah. My sin is lust."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
You can be sure that Hell is going to break lose. I'm sorry for not updating in what, 3 weeks? It probably won't happen again. I give credit of the plotline to (myself and) XxLaylaXx. Without her this story would be much worse. I've also been working on a new story, It Would Seem I'm Going To Hell (or something along those lines…) AND IT WENT GREEN!!! So yeah. this and that will be my split main focus, also I'll probably post a couple one shots because I need practice writing smut. For this story. I mean, I just introduced a guy who is Lust for Ficwad's sake!
QUICK, LOOK BUSY! Here comes Jesus….
ANYWAY, I'll be starting the next chapter immediately. And you'll probably be disappointed. But Hell, it's my story. SHIT IS GOING DOWN!!
R&R, read my other story too! I'm not going to post a link when you can just click on my profile. It's not too hard. (I don't think…)
Rate, Review and NEVER eat spicy veggie buffalo wings and Orange crush together!
Now that he knows why I kill, he tries not to get on my case, but I can tell the whole murder thing bothers him. It would bother me, too, if I were him. But it's not as though I can help killing people. When I do it, too, I turn into almost a different person. I'm driven to kill, I want it. But that doesn't mean I like it, no it does not.
I pull a scarf around my neck to hide the awful vine tattoo that is now sprouting a blood red flower. I haven't much time left, I know.
I hurry down the cobblestone street, and it hardly takes me a minute to find a prey. An old man, around sixty. I decide not to do anything special with this man, just get it over with. I creep behind him silently in the deserted street, pulling a shiny blade from my pocket. A swing of the knife, and this man will be dead. Dead from a little knife I keep in my pocket, intended for camping purposes. I hate camping.
I take a few long strides, and am behind the man when I crush the blade into his back, hearing the snap! as the ribs break, the gushing of blood, the scrape of bone against metal. He gasps for a moment, then drops limp, falling to the ground, my kill forgotten. I don't bother to reclaim my knife from the corpse, just walk away, ignoring the blood making pools and rivers in the grey stone road.
I sigh as I walk along the road back to the apartment I've rented, deciding to stop at a coffee shop along the way. Frankie won't be up for a while, anyway. I walk to the beautifully small and quiet cafe, inhaling the air with a smile.
"Bonjour, monsieur. Vous désirez?" The barista asks, examining her nails with little compassion.
"Salut, manquer. Je voudrais un cafe, s'il vous plait." I smile, paying my dues. I look over the empty cafe, grabbing my coffee, finding a nice corner seat overlooking the empty road. Soon the streets have the occasional guest, and I examine them as they walk by, thinking up stories and guesses about their lives. Do they limp, do they text, what do they do and why do they do it? Simply stated, I people watch. But people watching isn't simple, it's complex in the simplest way. One little deal could change what you think of a person and their life. It's amazing, really.
I wonder if any of these people are as messed up as I am, if they belong in an asylum or jailhouse. In hell. I get my answer when I see a face I never wanted to see again. Maybe it's not him, maybe it's not that awful man walking into the coffee shop, maybe it's not the guy who messed up my life for so long. But as soon as I hear him order a drink, I know it's him. The monster who nearly destroyed me. Not that he would remember.
He scans the room for somewhere to sit, and I pray he doesn't decide to socialize with me.
"Bonjour." He says, sliding into the seat next to me.
MYSTERY MAN'S P.O.V. (I'm sorry about this…)
"H-hello." The dark haired man stutters in english. He must not speak French. I wonder how this hot thing got his coffee. Probably mimed. He does his best not to look at me, his eyes in his lap, occasionally darting up to mine, only to be scared away.
"Oh, an American." I smile. "What's your name, sugar?" I ask in my perfect english. Mind you, this boy has an American accent, I have an English one.
"G-Gerard." He says, biting his lip in an adorable fashion.
"I'm Leon, but call me whatever you deem fit." I smile flirtatiously at him. "You wanna come to mine?"
"No!" He all but yells, earning us a glare from the staff woman. "I mean, I'm um, I should be getting back to my boyfriend…"He bites on his lip, getting up from his corner seat. I reach towards his hand, but he flinches away. I stand up, looking him in the eyes.
"You're coming with me." I command, using my magic on him. No, not my flirtatious magic, but literal magic. I say it with the authority I know I have over normal people, and I can tell the beautiful man is tempted to follow. I smirk.
"No, sorry. I have to go." Gerard says, turning around to gather up a messenger bag. My eyes widen at his response. No one ever says no to me. Not ever. Unless…
"Which one are you?" I ask, eager to know. He just looks confused. "Which sin?" I clarify. GErard freezes, and slowly turns around. He chuckles slightly. Nervously.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He informs me. I roll my eyes. "The idea that I am a sin is simply ludicrous."
"Ain't ludicrous at all with that body." I wink.
"Er… Goodbye."
"No, wait! I know you're a sin! I am one too! Have been so for five years!" I tell him, eyes momentarily flicking to the impassive barista.
"Oh?" He asks.
"Yeah. My sin is lust."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
You can be sure that Hell is going to break lose. I'm sorry for not updating in what, 3 weeks? It probably won't happen again. I give credit of the plotline to (myself and) XxLaylaXx. Without her this story would be much worse. I've also been working on a new story, It Would Seem I'm Going To Hell (or something along those lines…) AND IT WENT GREEN!!! So yeah. this and that will be my split main focus, also I'll probably post a couple one shots because I need practice writing smut. For this story. I mean, I just introduced a guy who is Lust for Ficwad's sake!
QUICK, LOOK BUSY! Here comes Jesus….
ANYWAY, I'll be starting the next chapter immediately. And you'll probably be disappointed. But Hell, it's my story. SHIT IS GOING DOWN!!
R&R, read my other story too! I'm not going to post a link when you can just click on my profile. It's not too hard. (I don't think…)
Rate, Review and NEVER eat spicy veggie buffalo wings and Orange crush together!
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