The Madness of Mania (Frerard AU)

Chapter 11

[Gerard's P.O.V]

As I smothered the cigarette, I took Frank's hand along with the shotgun in the other, and walked back to the house.

I was most definitely proud with him, even with the slight mishap.

As we entered the brightness of the house, I set the shotgun down in a closet and turned to face Frank. My eyes widened slightly however as I saw his neck and his forearm.

Blood littered the side of his neck and upper body, the source being stab wounds to the neck. How he wasn't dead yet was a mystery to me, yet upon closer inspection the wounds were not that deep.

Blues and purples trailed around his neck, the bruises vividly evident from strangulation. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

As my eyes trailed down to his arm, I noticed four scratch marks that had broken the skin. Blood trickled from each of them; the sight of Frank beaten up left me feeling slightly guilty - a feeling I never recall having experienced. The person who did that to him must have had incredibly sharp nails.

"Oh Frankie," I sighed sympathetically, looking over his wounded body once again. "I'm sorry this happened to you, I should have just gone with you."

"What do you mean?" He asked with slight confusion. "Oh, you mean my arm, no its fine, it's just a scratch, it'll heal." He tried to form a smile.

I sighed once again, his naivety perplexing me - how could he not notice the stab wounds on his neck?

Taking his hand, I led him to the mirror in the hallway. As he looked at his reflection, a combination of fear and horror flickered across his face.

"Shit."

"First Aid box to the rescue...again!" I trailed off as I jogged into the kitchen, soon returning with the magical box.

He hovered his fingers over his bloodied neck, gently touching the wounds before quickly pulling away as he shrieked in pain.

"Who knew stoner kids were so strong." He chuckled a little.

"Never underestimate a stoned teenager." I shook my head.

I began cleaning his wounded arm with antiseptic wipes, but that quickly followed by another hiss of pain from Frank.

My mind was oddly screaming at me to apologise, but I was still torn with coming to terms with my emotions. These...feelings.

As I brought a clean wipe to his neck, I hesitated. My eyes locked onto his own, and I couldn't help the smile that clung to my lips.

Dropping the wipe, I held his hips lightly as I pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

I felt yet another pang of emotion; I soon realised that I was somewhat taking advantage of Frank in this state, but that thought had never crossed my mind before.

He was just so beautiful, wounded or not. I wanted him, desired him more than anything...but I already had him - he was mine. So what was I waiting for?

I could kiss him as much as I please. He was mine after all. My pretty, pretty boyfriend.

Still eyeing up the blood that littered his neck and shoulder, I slowly broke the kiss, lifting the hem of Frank's t-shirt, carefully pulling it over his head - once again, his tattoos leaving me in awe.

I leaned into the crook off his neck, licking the blood.

Being human and consuming too much blood can essentially make you throw up, however for me, just a taste of my victims' blood has always given me that edge and adrenaline.