Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Angels And Demons
We Meet Again
2 reviews"Frank shakily clenched his right fist and held it up in front of his scared-looking face. Then, he remembered. Punching himself never worked. "No..." he whispered tearfully, grabbing his right wr...
0Unrated
Frank went home that night feeling more confused than he'd ever felt before. He had just been attacked by a feral vampire who then wanted to be his friend. He didn't know if they'd ever meet again. He didn't know if he ever wanted to meet him again. He didn't know if he was being tricked, and that Gerard would kill him as soon as he'd earned Frank's trust. Hell, he didn't even know vampires even existed until about 20 minutes ago. He wondered if he should go looking for him the next day. He had never really had any friends before, so perhaps Gerard could be a good friend, if a little unconventional, but Frank was also a rather unconventional friend for someone to have.
Frank tiredly climbed up the creaky, wooden stairs that felt as if they were about to give out under his feet at any moment, and they squeaked loudly and quite annoyingly as he stepped on them. He walked over to his bedroom, opened the door, lazily kicked it backwards with his right foot and pushed it back until it clicked shut. He then trudged slowly over to his unmade bed, his tired arms dangling by his sides like lengths of string, and removed his red tie, white collared shirt, black shoes, socks and trousers in that order. He yawned loudly, stretching his aching arms out behind and above his head, then he climbed into his soft bed that remained comfortable, even with food grease staining it all over. His eyelids drooped slowly over his eyes, and he began to drift off into sleep.
...
"H-hello?" asked Frank, who wasn't used to the absence of horrible voices cluttering his paranoid young mind.
"Hello...?"
He certainly didn't have a problem with the voices not attacking his mind with their insufferable screeching, but it was almost as if something was wrong, somehow. However, in the end, Frank decided not to be so concerned. This was quite possibly the only peaceful night he'd ever have, so he made the most of this rare and very fortunate oppurtunity and happily drifted off into a quiet, peaceful sleep.
...
Morning came, and Frank awoke at 10am, according to his dusty, old digital clock with the luminous, bright green letters sitting on his bedside table. He gasped in surprise as he saw the time - he'd ususally get woken up at around 5am by the voices, and he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore, if he could even get to sleep in the first place. He lifted the soft, white duvet off of him and walked a little shakily down the stairs to check all the other clocks in the house. The upstairs bathroom clock: 10am. The kitchen clock: 10am. The living room clock: 10am.
"No... this can't be right." muttered Frank to himself. He ran over to the windows in the living room and pulled the curtains apart. It was sunny, and it was definitely later than he usually woke up.
"The voices... they've gone!?" shouted Frank, who was surprised, happy, relieved and a little worried, in a way. He felt like they were meant to be there, haunting him like a ghost.
...
[Mmmmph... ah, I'm awake! Damn, Frankie, I really missed you. I dunno why I disappeared like that, how very rude of me. Sorry, Frank. It WON'T happen again.]
Frank's stomach became a bottomless pit. He felt empty, and his facial expression quickly changed from relaxed to horrified, his eyes and mouth wide open in shock.
"Leave! Me! Alone!" screamed Frank, leaning backwards and banging his head as hard as possible against the window, leaving a large, reddish-purple bruise.
[Calm down, Frank. You haven't even given me a chance to properly talk to you, yet.]
"Please, no! It hurts when you talk!"
{Just ignore him, Fra -] began the angel in his head, who he was thankful to hear, but who needed to stop talking.
"NO! I CAN'T IGNORE YOU TWO, GODFUCKIT, SO STOP TELLING ME TO!"
[Poor Frankie. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Well, you know how to shut us up...]
Frank shakily clenched his right fist and held it up in front of his scared-looking face. Then, he remembered. Punching himself never worked.
"No..." he whispered tearfully, grabbing his right wrist and trying to bring his hand down. "I have... to fight... this impulse..."
{Go for a walk, Frank...}
[No, give in to your impulses! Let out all your frustrations in a puddle of blood and tears!]
Frank decided to trust the angel. It sure beat the alternative.
He quickly got dressed and walked out of his house, jittering like a jackhammer. He didn't know where to go, so he just darted somewhere random as fast as his twitching feet would carry him.
Before long, he ended up at the forest. He decided to sit down on the same fallen tree with the sharp branch that cut his leg the night before. He stared at the branch and noticed that the tip of it was an intense shade of red. He then tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes, taking in the gentle breeze and listening to the sweet sound of rustling leaves and tweeting birds that happily sung cheerful songs to each other in the tall, green trees. He then looked to his left, and he noticed a large hole in the tree trunk he was sitting on. He shuffled closer towards it and peered into it curiously, wondering what he would see in there, though he knew it would most probably be nothing that interesting. However, he saw something black with light shining onto it that left a glossy-looking patch. It looked like hair, and he reached his hand into the hole to gently touch whatever it was he saw...
It was hair.
He quickly shook it off his hand, wondering whatever kind of animal could be in there.
"H-hello, Mister Forest Critter..." said Frank in a slight sing-song.
"Hhhcccccccchhhhhh..."
A terrifying hiss accompanied, as always, by a thick, white cloud was let out of the "critter's" mouth. As the freezing cold, goosebump-giving hiss was let out, a very pale face looked up to stare angrily at Frank's. Soul-piercing red eyes were burning holes into Frank's hazel ones like lasers.
"Oh, G-Gerard! Sorry if I woke you..." stuttered Frank nervously, and he had a scared smile on his face.
"Hccchh..." hissed Gerard, this time, a lot less intensely. Hardly any of the fog came out. "I-it's OK, uhmm... what is your name?" asked Gerard, who seemed a lot calmer than Frank expected him to be.
"Oh, I-I'm Frank..." replied Frank, holding his hand out for a friendly handshake. Gerard bowed his head down and smelled his hand, not understanding entirely what Frank was requesting.
"Errr... what... what are you doing?" asked Frank in confusion.
Gerard lightly licked and tasted his hand all over, then he bared his fangs and attempted to bite Frank's thumb.
"No, Gerard, you can't bite my - why would you even..." gasped Frank, a little scared.
"Your blood...?" asked Gerard, smiling hopefully with wide, childlike eyes, and he looked somewhat adorable.
"N-no..." responded Frank, shaking his head.
"But I need it to survive, please!" pleaded Gerard, grabbing Frank's shoulders.
"No, Gerard, I really can't..."
"I'll only take a little."
"No, Gerard, please, I really can't let you..."
"Please! I promise, I'll only take a little."
"No! And anyway, what were you doing sleeping in that hole in the tree?" asked Frank, cocking his head a little to the side.
"Oh, I'm nocturnal. That's where I sleep every day." answered Gerard.
"So, why can't you wait until nighttime to drink blood?" questioned Frank, trying his best to avoid getting his blood sucked out of him.
"It's either I take a little from your thumb now, or I kill a man for the blood in his jugular vein tonight, Frank. What do you choose?" replied Gerard, a stern (Yet not angry) expression on his face. Frank hesitantly lifted his hand up to Gerard's mouth, and he slowly sunk his fangs into it.
"Oww..." whimpered Frank, wincing at the pain and squinting his eyes shut. Gerard slowly sucked the blood from out of his thumb, completely ignoring Frank protesting.
After about a long and painful minute, Gerard removed his razor-sharp fangs and licked the blood dripping out of the two small open wounds in Frank's thumb.
"I, umm... I'm gonna go now." squeaked Frank. His voice sounded high in pitch and nervous in emotion.
"OK, but... can you come back tomorrow? Same time?" requested Gerard, smiling innocently at Frank.
"I, umm... I'll think about it."
Frank tiredly climbed up the creaky, wooden stairs that felt as if they were about to give out under his feet at any moment, and they squeaked loudly and quite annoyingly as he stepped on them. He walked over to his bedroom, opened the door, lazily kicked it backwards with his right foot and pushed it back until it clicked shut. He then trudged slowly over to his unmade bed, his tired arms dangling by his sides like lengths of string, and removed his red tie, white collared shirt, black shoes, socks and trousers in that order. He yawned loudly, stretching his aching arms out behind and above his head, then he climbed into his soft bed that remained comfortable, even with food grease staining it all over. His eyelids drooped slowly over his eyes, and he began to drift off into sleep.
...
"H-hello?" asked Frank, who wasn't used to the absence of horrible voices cluttering his paranoid young mind.
"Hello...?"
He certainly didn't have a problem with the voices not attacking his mind with their insufferable screeching, but it was almost as if something was wrong, somehow. However, in the end, Frank decided not to be so concerned. This was quite possibly the only peaceful night he'd ever have, so he made the most of this rare and very fortunate oppurtunity and happily drifted off into a quiet, peaceful sleep.
...
Morning came, and Frank awoke at 10am, according to his dusty, old digital clock with the luminous, bright green letters sitting on his bedside table. He gasped in surprise as he saw the time - he'd ususally get woken up at around 5am by the voices, and he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore, if he could even get to sleep in the first place. He lifted the soft, white duvet off of him and walked a little shakily down the stairs to check all the other clocks in the house. The upstairs bathroom clock: 10am. The kitchen clock: 10am. The living room clock: 10am.
"No... this can't be right." muttered Frank to himself. He ran over to the windows in the living room and pulled the curtains apart. It was sunny, and it was definitely later than he usually woke up.
"The voices... they've gone!?" shouted Frank, who was surprised, happy, relieved and a little worried, in a way. He felt like they were meant to be there, haunting him like a ghost.
...
[Mmmmph... ah, I'm awake! Damn, Frankie, I really missed you. I dunno why I disappeared like that, how very rude of me. Sorry, Frank. It WON'T happen again.]
Frank's stomach became a bottomless pit. He felt empty, and his facial expression quickly changed from relaxed to horrified, his eyes and mouth wide open in shock.
"Leave! Me! Alone!" screamed Frank, leaning backwards and banging his head as hard as possible against the window, leaving a large, reddish-purple bruise.
[Calm down, Frank. You haven't even given me a chance to properly talk to you, yet.]
"Please, no! It hurts when you talk!"
{Just ignore him, Fra -] began the angel in his head, who he was thankful to hear, but who needed to stop talking.
"NO! I CAN'T IGNORE YOU TWO, GODFUCKIT, SO STOP TELLING ME TO!"
[Poor Frankie. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Well, you know how to shut us up...]
Frank shakily clenched his right fist and held it up in front of his scared-looking face. Then, he remembered. Punching himself never worked.
"No..." he whispered tearfully, grabbing his right wrist and trying to bring his hand down. "I have... to fight... this impulse..."
{Go for a walk, Frank...}
[No, give in to your impulses! Let out all your frustrations in a puddle of blood and tears!]
Frank decided to trust the angel. It sure beat the alternative.
He quickly got dressed and walked out of his house, jittering like a jackhammer. He didn't know where to go, so he just darted somewhere random as fast as his twitching feet would carry him.
Before long, he ended up at the forest. He decided to sit down on the same fallen tree with the sharp branch that cut his leg the night before. He stared at the branch and noticed that the tip of it was an intense shade of red. He then tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes, taking in the gentle breeze and listening to the sweet sound of rustling leaves and tweeting birds that happily sung cheerful songs to each other in the tall, green trees. He then looked to his left, and he noticed a large hole in the tree trunk he was sitting on. He shuffled closer towards it and peered into it curiously, wondering what he would see in there, though he knew it would most probably be nothing that interesting. However, he saw something black with light shining onto it that left a glossy-looking patch. It looked like hair, and he reached his hand into the hole to gently touch whatever it was he saw...
It was hair.
He quickly shook it off his hand, wondering whatever kind of animal could be in there.
"H-hello, Mister Forest Critter..." said Frank in a slight sing-song.
"Hhhcccccccchhhhhh..."
A terrifying hiss accompanied, as always, by a thick, white cloud was let out of the "critter's" mouth. As the freezing cold, goosebump-giving hiss was let out, a very pale face looked up to stare angrily at Frank's. Soul-piercing red eyes were burning holes into Frank's hazel ones like lasers.
"Oh, G-Gerard! Sorry if I woke you..." stuttered Frank nervously, and he had a scared smile on his face.
"Hccchh..." hissed Gerard, this time, a lot less intensely. Hardly any of the fog came out. "I-it's OK, uhmm... what is your name?" asked Gerard, who seemed a lot calmer than Frank expected him to be.
"Oh, I-I'm Frank..." replied Frank, holding his hand out for a friendly handshake. Gerard bowed his head down and smelled his hand, not understanding entirely what Frank was requesting.
"Errr... what... what are you doing?" asked Frank in confusion.
Gerard lightly licked and tasted his hand all over, then he bared his fangs and attempted to bite Frank's thumb.
"No, Gerard, you can't bite my - why would you even..." gasped Frank, a little scared.
"Your blood...?" asked Gerard, smiling hopefully with wide, childlike eyes, and he looked somewhat adorable.
"N-no..." responded Frank, shaking his head.
"But I need it to survive, please!" pleaded Gerard, grabbing Frank's shoulders.
"No, Gerard, I really can't..."
"I'll only take a little."
"No, Gerard, please, I really can't let you..."
"Please! I promise, I'll only take a little."
"No! And anyway, what were you doing sleeping in that hole in the tree?" asked Frank, cocking his head a little to the side.
"Oh, I'm nocturnal. That's where I sleep every day." answered Gerard.
"So, why can't you wait until nighttime to drink blood?" questioned Frank, trying his best to avoid getting his blood sucked out of him.
"It's either I take a little from your thumb now, or I kill a man for the blood in his jugular vein tonight, Frank. What do you choose?" replied Gerard, a stern (Yet not angry) expression on his face. Frank hesitantly lifted his hand up to Gerard's mouth, and he slowly sunk his fangs into it.
"Oww..." whimpered Frank, wincing at the pain and squinting his eyes shut. Gerard slowly sucked the blood from out of his thumb, completely ignoring Frank protesting.
After about a long and painful minute, Gerard removed his razor-sharp fangs and licked the blood dripping out of the two small open wounds in Frank's thumb.
"I, umm... I'm gonna go now." squeaked Frank. His voice sounded high in pitch and nervous in emotion.
"OK, but... can you come back tomorrow? Same time?" requested Gerard, smiling innocently at Frank.
"I, umm... I'll think about it."
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