Call of the Siren » Frerard

TEN

Everything had strung together, all the little fucking pieces of the puzzle fit snug -- and Gerard knew that it was true, as much as he didn't want to. This all couldn't have been a coincidence -- it couldn't have. There had to have been some explanation as to why Aella had burnt, as to why a living tree had burnt to the ground.

Gerard just didn't want to accept the one that he was given. No. He knew that there had been a reason as to why he was delving so deep into this all in the first place -- he didn't have these suspicions for no reason, yet, now that he'd uncovered it, he wanted nothing but to believe.

Because there was no fucking way that Frank was the curse destined to doom Kitsfort to an end...

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Frank had had enough. He was this close to tearing himself apart because of stupid Gerard -- beating himself up and drowning in self-hatred for his own fucking boyfriend's lack of communication.

So he decided to do something about it. Stood on Gerard's doorstep, knocking loud -- paired with pursed lips and stern posture, with a lack of Pencey, though, something that he hoped he wouldn't regret.

He immediately melted back into a weak puddle once more, when Gerard opened the door, though. He didn't really say much, the two just staring until Frank swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, opening his mouth pointedly. "I want to talk."

Gerard froze for a second, blinking.

"Scratch that, we need to talk," Frank added, biting his lip hard as Gerard frowned a little bit.

Gerard nodded quietly, not speaking -- but holding up a little finger, shutting the door right in Frank's face. Frank blinked at the door, mouth agape for a few moments -- just about to jam at the damn doorbell and get that son of a bitch back out here -- except just as he had been reaching to do it, the door swung back open, and Gerard was now swathed in a jacket. Okay?

He stepped out just as quietly, the door shutting behind him as he walked past Frank -- and off of the porch, setting off down the street as the younger followed quick, biting on his lip as his pissed off attitude softened into one of just pure confusion. "Where are we going? Why are we going down to Aella?" Frank asked.

Gerard looked over, expression lacking of emotion -- startling Frank's gut into further worry, because this was starting to feel horrifyingly similar to how it had been back in November...

The simple look startled Frank into silence, mouth clamping shut as he quietly followed Gerard down the street once more. Something felt wrong, and Frank didn't like it one bit. He ran his fingertips along the picket fence, though, frowning a bit as they passed Aella's stump -- heading down the staircase to the shore.

"Gerard, seriously," Frank finally spoke as they started down the dock -- because Frank didn't have his fucking oxygen, and it was startlingly windy down here, Frank feeling as if he was about to go flying off into the water. "What's happening? I know that we like to talk down here, but--"

He shut his mouth for himself at the little further look that Gerard gave him, sick to his stomach as he nodded in an understanding of the literal nothing that the older had spoken. He only balled his hands into his pockets, chewing on the inside of his gum. 

The breeze was racketing, blowing loudly -- filling up most of the noise, spare the restless sound of the waves crashing both the dock and the shore. Frank heard nothing more, nothing less.

Gerard was frowning, though, not looking at Frank. His gaze was lost somewhere, out in the horizon -- staring out at the open waters as the afternoon sun shone high, warming up the air with the slightest twinge of sweetness, and reflecting the waters just a bit. Most of the beams were shrouded by the clouds, though, casting them in a gloom dark that had Frank frowning along with Gerard.