Art Entwined In Blood

6 - A Little More Than Acquaintences

     Frank glanced at Gerard with a look of confusion.

     "You met with my wife? Where?"

    "Well, at your house of course. I was looking for you, but you were," he stopped to enunciate clearing his throat, "in my house."

     "See the problem here is that you keep your door unlocked," Frank joked.

     "Yes, well, I never remember where I place my keys. It's much easier for me to just keep everything unlocked. With exceptions, of course."

     "What, like secret doors?"

     Avoiding the question, Gerard began to scrub Frank's soaking clothes and pin them up on one of the multiple laundry lines being thread throughout the room. Frank eyed him questioningly, but didn't edge him on for an answer.Good answers come in time, Gerard had said the day they met.

     "Your clothes should be dried in the next hour or so. In this time we have together, what would you like to do? I know I have many things I should be doing, but since you're here, I might as well keep you entertained. Would you like to see my billiard room?"

     Gerard walked over to the open doorway and added, "I'll take your silence as a yes. Come, Frances."

     Frank followed silently, watching the paintings on the walls whip past as they seemed to be running down the multiple corridors. However, he stopped at one point to observe a painting that made his head spin. The dark brown hair, hazel eyes, look of determination...

     "Why is there a painting of me in your house?"

     Gerard hadn't noticed that Frank had ceased following, but turned immediately when he heard the distance between them. He walked quickly over to where Frank was looking, because he was very sure he didn't have a painting of Frank in his house. When he saw it, though, realization flooded around him, and he was calmer with his next actions.

     "That isn't you, Frances. It is someone named Frances, but it isn't you. It was an old friend of mine, you see. He was... Ah, nevermind memories. They do no good. Come, the billiard room is down this next corridor," Gerard answered, pulling Frank away from the painting.

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     "Gerard, no fair! You're too good at this!"

    Gerard had defeated Frank at Fooseball for the 18th time that night. Even as they were playing, Frank was still dumbfounded at the sheer fact that Gerard had games in his house. He thought Gerard just sat in his study, reading books all day; well, night. He didn't think he was capable of actual fun.

     Gerard let out a ridiculous laughter as he scored yet another goal, "Well, when you get as old as me, you learn all the little tricks."

     There was that age thing again.

     "Yeah, well I'm only like 28, so I guess I don't know much, huh?" Frank chuckled, hoping that Gerard would reveal his age as well.

     "I guess not," he shrugged.

     Frank paused for a moment, hoping that Gerard would proceed to give out his age, but he continued scoring goals while Frank was distracted. He seemed like such a kid sometimes, Frank thought, using an unfair advantage while sticking his tongue out; there's no way he's older than me. He watched Gerard for a little longer, seeing him do little cheers when he got another goal. He didn't notice that Frank wasn't even playing anymore. This is what he must've done all these years to have fun; he didn't have anybody to keep him company so he just played games by himself. It made Frank's heart ache.

     "Hey, Gerard, have you ever played a video game?"

     Gerard looked up distractedly from his single-player game of Fooseball and slurred out, "A...what?"

     "Oh, this'll be good," Frank smirked, gripping Gerard's long-sleeve-covered arm and pulling him out of the mansion.

     "Frances, it's nearly three in the morning! You need to get home to your woman!"

     "My woman?" Frank laughed, "Please don't tell me you suddenly got a hold of television and started watching MTV."

     "What's MTV? Isn't that a vehicle?"

     "Oh, boy. You need to learn some stuff about the modern world."

     "Frances, I don't want to know about the modern world," Gerard pulled Frank to a stop in the middle of the street. "It's full of electricity, and that's all I need to know to hate it." He gave the street light a menacing glare for effect.

     "Gee, come on, some electricity is fun. Like video games."

     Gerard looked at Frank strangly for a moment, then following with, "What did you call me?"

     "Oh, uh. Gerard. Sorry, man. I'm used to giving my friends nicknames," Frank replied, turning pink, then mumbled, "And that's the cutest one I've made up yet."

     Gerard turned bright red and ran a distance away from the streetlight so that Frank couldn't see his face. He still had one of his many cloaks on, and he used it to wrap himself in warmth against the chilly morning air. Gerard had a sick feeling in his stomach, like he knew something was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what yet.

     "You know, Frances, today is the thirtieth of October. Tomorrow is Hallows Eve."

     "You mean Halloween. That's my birthday."

     "Oh," Gerard's face fell flat.

     "This could be a problem."