Short Stories (Multifandom)

Repent and Repeat

Isaac ^ my boy

There will be French in this, if you don't know what it says feel free to comment and ask and I shall tell.

The fall. It's the last thing I remember.

Memories tear apart my soul, consumed by the endlessly burning fire. The body turns into ashes, the overlaying tissue revealing ruined bones. I fall into the blackest place, where light causes pain, and darkness brings solace. Into a place which deprives one of faith and erases memories, which leads to madness and effaces the boundary between people and animals.

†

Brendon has a hold of his cane, a subtle limp while he walks.

He can feel the slight wear and tear of the skin just below his spine, healing itself with unbearable pain and it's agonizingly slow. Just before he exited his home, he was glued to his bedpost and forced to stay put as the rest of him healed, which lasted three weeks. He wasn't alone though, acquaintances Tyler and Josh made sure to tie him up nicely and gag him so the screams coming from the man wouldn't leak through the walls. Josh almost wanted to suffocate him, throw a pillow over his head so silence would instill. But he didn't, he left before Tyler did with an annoyance draped over him.

Tyler and Josh were gone when Brendon awoke, leaving him a sweating mess as he looked around his dark apartment. Then a dislocated thumb later, Brendon had untied himself and snapped his bones back into place. That's the one thing that didn't hurt, in fact that's one of many. Brendon couldn't feel, he felt the pain of leaving Hell and entering Earth, but he had no remorse. He didn't love nor hate, he was a stoic fiend. Tricking and making his way around to suffice his boss.

Now, he's walking down the streets of Paris, making his way past the Catacombs and towards the Church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Grenelle. Then with a smile, he's inside, sighing as he stands straight just after he feels the pain in his back subside. No pain, nothing more. Now his cane is just a mere decoration. He feels powerful and he knows he's spreading it, the wavelength of the steeple versus his soul were clashing. It was a battle he knew he'd win, the opponent fearing his darkness.

"Mr. Urie," a thick French accent comes from Brendon's left and he turns with that same smile.

"Francois, nice seeing you again,"

"What are you doing here?" The inevitable question that the Priest was dreading came right out, holding his shaking hands behind his back as he leant forward as a curtesy.

"I'm back for business, you know this, Francois. So tell me, where's the boy?"

"I do not know who-"

"You know," Brendon tucks his cane underneath his arm before placing his hands into his pockets. As usual, he's clad in a black suit. He tilts his head back, eyes closed as he breathes in. "I can smell him, the citrus pine," he laughs as he looks around the chapel then stares back at the Priest. "I thought you knew holy water didn't work anymore; and those candles? Geesh, Francois, you can do better than that."

The Priest is silent for a minute before waving his hand just slightly, telling Brendon to follow him. There's people walking around, choir most likely, and random civilians situated in the pews as they watched. But nowhere, can Brendon see, is the boy.

He's lead to a room after following the Priest up a flight of stairs. Books line the walls of the room and candles are lit, masking unfortunately, nothing from Brendon.

"I do this sans peur," the Priest admits after closing the door, his hands folded in front of himself.

"There is nothing to fear," Brendon walks dangerously close to the Priest, his stance intimidating. "Où est-il?"

"Right this way, please rester calme." The Priest opens a door that leads out to a balcony, overlooking the backyard of the church.

"He's more beautiful..." Brendon was locked upon the boy he's been asking for, complimenting the aura that seems to deepen each and every time Brendon lays his eyes on the boy.

"Oui, but 'em s'il vous plaît, this way before he-" Just as the Priest begins to beg Brendon to follow him back inside, the boy looks up at the sound of his voice, squinting his eyes from the sun to have a better view of the Priest. He waves with a bright smile and the Priest is reluctantly waves back, then he's gripping the rosary on his chest tightly in his hand as he watches the boy make eyes with Brendon. "Please, revenir."

"I'd like to speak with him," Brendon turns on his heal, making his way back inside and towards the stairs.

"Non, vous ne devez pas-"

"Lead the way, Francois."