Art Entwined In Blood

8 - Abide With Me

     "It's my fucking birthday!"

     "I know, man, I know. Just chill out."

     Frank was panicking in a tarnished recliner in Bert's basement. Bert himself was strewn across the ripped maroon sofa, tilted up against the wall. Pete, Ray, Bob, and Alex were there as well, but mostly just listening to Frank as Bert acted as the crazy therapist who perscribed himself drugs. Frank's knee bounced up and down, his foot pressing against the shag carpet which needed a severe cleaning; or better yet, get rid of it all together.

     "I just don't know what to do."

     "I think you should go to his house anyways, just to surprise him. I bet it's his way of edging you on to come. You know, when I had this problem, I walked into his house, just kicked the door down and-"

     "Bert, you have that problem every day, and you get arrested almost every time," Pete cut in.

     Bert gave him a mused expression, then turned his attention back to Frank.

     "Just trust me, you gotta go for it, Frank. He wants you to."

     "Don't do it, Frank. There's obviously a reason why he wants you to stay away."

   Pete and Bert continued to bicker back and forth, starting to use hand motions into their expressions. Their yelling kept getting louder and more screechy until Frank lurched up from the chair.

      "That's enough."

      Neither Bert or Pete heard him at all.

     "Enough!" his voice resounded against the plaster walls. They stopped immediately, staring at Frank with blank faces.

     "I've had enough of all of you! I'm going over to his house. And it's not to defy you," he pointed at Pete, "and it's not to make you happy," he moved his action to Bert. "I need to see him, to ask him what the hell is going on. He is just such a head strain!" He exclaimed, stomping up the basement steps. The group of friends didn't move until they heard the front door slam. Bob turned to the group with a serious expression.

     "That was like dealing with a twelve year old girl in her first relationship."

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     "O del mio dolche ardore, bramatto getto...," Gerard sang, cleaning ancient medical instruments.

     "Bramatto getto!"

     He danced elegantly around a long, steel table, gathering more instruments and herbs and setting them on a small side table. Picking up a scalpel, he spun it in his hand, clearly having done it before. His opera-like voice was bouncing on the walls of stone making it sound louder than he actually was. It was so loud, in fact, that he didn't notice Frank at the barred cellar window.

     "Gerard?"

     "What's that?" he stopped singing to listen to his surroundings.

     "Must've been the wind...," he mumbled, trying incredulously to regain his focus.

     "Gerard."

     Gerard whipped around, a four millimeter scalpel aimed precisely through the rusted bars molded into the small window. Unfortunately, without having thrown anything with a ninja-like passion in quite a long time, Gerard missed his target, the scalpel plunging into the stone right next to it.

     "Damn you, Lucifer!"

     "Um," a small voice stumbled, thanking every being that Gerard had missed.

     Gerard's eyes widened, stepping cautiously toward the person. He glimpsed short, dark brown hair and immediately jumped back from the window.

     "Go away! Go home! I don't want you here!"

     Frank tried to peer through the bars, but to no avail: only Gerard's face and some shiny things on a table were visable. He wondered if Gerard thought he was some burgalar or a random civilian. Maybe he didn't see his face yet.

     "Gerard, it's me," Frank croaked out, still a little shaken by almost getting his neck pierced.

     "I know!" he yelled back, an almost shriek to his voice.

     "That's why you need to go home! Go! Now!" he waved his hands in a shooing manner, but since Frank was out in sunlight, he could barely see anything in the dark.

     "But I don't understand, I just wanted to-"

     "Frances- uh, Frank. Please, I need you to leave right now. I'll explain it to you again, tomorrow."

     Frank backed away from the window, sitting on his knees. He stared into the cellar, still able to make out Gerard's white face moving around in the darkness. He kept asking himself questions as to what Gerard could be doing. He never even knew that Gerard had a cellar until now. He leaned closer to the window again, realizing that he couldn't see Gerard anymore. All he could see were the shiny things on the table.

     "I told you to go home."

     Frank toppled over onto a pile of leaves, each making their own crunching sound. There was Gerard, standing in front of him: outside in the daylight. Of course, he was much too bundled up for a chilly fall day. He had a black fedora, only slightly exposing his raven hair, which now looked as if it had a blue hue to it. A large buttoned trenchcoat swung from his broad shoulders, where it met his black pants by his ankles. His shoes looked worn, barley crunching any leaves at all, mostly just bending them. His gleaming eyes were hidden behind round sunglasses, but Frank could still see a ring of gold around his pupil.

     "Uh, yeah, I just-"

     "Please, Frank, just go home. It'll be safer there," he spoke from behind an oversized black scarf, wrapped multiple times around his neck and lower face. He reached his gloved hand out for Frank to grab. Frank grasped it tightly, letting himself be pulled up off of the ground with ease.

     "You said my name right."

     Gerard's mouth opened just a little, then his eyes dropped to the ground.

     "Yeah, I know."

     "It's nice to hear it," Frank smiled.

     Gerard flushed, his cheeks only a dusted pink. It quickly faded, however, when a small man appeared from behind Gerard.

     "Mr. Mullock."

     "Frances."

     "Uh, it's- it's actually Frank now," Gerard cut into the greeting.

     "You've gone soft, Master Way! You ain't a half-blood, are ye?"

    Frank bit back a smile that was being forced onto his mouth. "This isn't Harry Potter, man."

     Mr. Mullock produced a lingering stare at Frank, trying to figure out exactly what he knew.

     "Ye haven't told him yet."

     "Mr. Mullock, just take him home."

     "Aye, I'll take him home, all right. I'll take him home and tell him what you've been keeping from-"

     "Tace!"

     Mr. Mullock's mouth seemed to glue shut right then and there, his muffled cries scratching against his lips. He started to claw at his mouth, trying to pry it open. He realized it was no use, and pleaded at Gerard with his eyes. Gerard looked down, almost as if he couldn't look at Mr. Mullock. The troll stood there, seeming to be crying, "Why would you do this to me? I trusted you!"

     "Sometimes you can't trust everyone," Gerard's expression seemed to say.

     "Take Frank home, Mr. Mullock. I have work to do."