Ivory Moon ♡ Book Two ♡ Frerard

Chapter One

hi! welcome to the sequel to Porcelain, the second book in the Twilightverse! i write mostly every chapter with the books in hand, remixing stuff and seeing what i can do different/add on while also staying true to the original story, so major disclaimer; i don't own Twilight, i just like it! you don't have to read the original series, this one can stand completely on its own.

i'm beyond excited to finally get started on this since New Moon is my favorite installment in the whole series and i hope i can get that through to everyone reading by treating this sequel with the praise and beauty it deserves. a couple things are shifting so be prepared! i'm not changing the rating since all sexual content is minimal and not super explicitly detailed, you're gonna be seeing an example of that in the first chapter hehe. also i'm thinking there's not gonna be as many chapters as the first fic which means slightly longer chapters. hope everyone's ready as i am!

— 

"Eerie whispers trapped beneath my pillow won't let me sleep, your memories. And I know you're in this room, I'm sure I heard you sigh."

— 'Thoughts of a Dying Atheist' by Muse.

"The bond forged between us was not one that could be broken by absence, distance, or time. And no matter how much more special or beautiful or brilliant or perfect than me he might be, he was as irreversibly altered as I was. As I would always belong to him, so would he always be mine." 

— Stephenie Meyer, 'New Moon'. 

The tale of starcrossed lovers always ended in death.

The passion of starcrossed lovers burned in a furious, progressive flame, dying out into a simmering ember, then vanished into ash laid to rest on grounds embarked by hopeless lovers. One was led to survival, another to a tomb, or both were laid to their unrest.

Frank, one of two starcrossed lovers, knew which fate he'd fall into. His skin would crease and wrinkle like a discarded page in a frayed book of life, color draining from his hair and strength disintegrating from his muscles. Aging was a scarily inevitable thing most feared, but none would fear it the way Frank did as he remained beside his immortal lover frozen in perpetual beauty, unending youth. Frank's gravestone would explain to anyone who happened across it that he'd faded from existence with love in his heart, yet no one would understand the dissatisfaction that had always seated in his heart, a pulverizing fear that remained until the moment he slipped from life itself. Reaching out to grasp onto Gerard's hand and knowing no matter how tightly he held on, nothing could ground his spirit.

Frank wandered into the ethereal circle of the meadow he shared with Gerard. The sun split through the clouds and embraced the clearing in a shimmering golden light catching the leftover dewy rain dribbling from tender petals. Frank smelled their sweet earthiness, including the dampness of the dirt under the lush grass. He hated to step into it and crush any particle of the meadow under his feet, but it was always necessary. The human part of him was indulgent when it came to things that should've been left still and pure, though there was nothing inherently corrupt about tangling into Gerard's embrace beyond the trees in the center of the flowers.

That time, Frank came alone; or so he thought.

Across the meadow stood an old man. His skin was weathered, though his eyes were content as his expression held the essence of who he'd been in his youth despite the white hair and many wrinkles. It wasn't any man Frank had seen before. After a cautious and brief analysis extending across the space, Frank was able to detect this person was nothing unnatural, simply human— but the strangest part was the silence he found when searching for an aura. There was no plain slate or quiet emotion, only nothingness.