october challenge | frerard | ✔️

twenty eight - grim reaper

twenty-eight: my own little piece of heaven

It wasn't the worst thing in the world, a date in Purgatory. Dismal black and white and red and gold leaves floated in the air, almost suspended between flying and falling, half dead flowers lined the dark highway to hell and barely alive white daffodils lined the stairway to heaven.

The Grim Reaper sat down under a tree, folding his scythe into a little box and tucking it in one of the pockets of his robes, then proceeding to take them off and hide them in a tree. Underneath his skull mask and his long flowy robes—that hid countless bodies—he was a frail man, appearing around nineteen or twenty. He had dark hair that skimmed his cheekbones and glossy black eyes. His face was a little bony, but kept its attractiveness anyways. He barely ate. Didn't need to. No one ate in the Underworld save for Satan. His slim fingers ran through his hair as he looked down at himself.

Black leather boots and ripped skinny jeans topped with a tight black shirt that said "CELLEBRATION" in bright red letters. His pale skin contrasted with his chipping black nail polish. He basically looked like he did when he defeated the last grim reaper who was now a demon, living in comfort in the underworld, jobless, just in eternal bliss.

He sighed. Satan had better show up soon or he was gonna be late to killing that family that was gonna burn to death in a fire in a few hours. He pulled a book out from his back pocket and settled down under the tree he'd hidden his garbs in and leant against it, already engrossed in his book when he felt a pair of strong warm arms wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Grim smelled the sweet fiery scent that accompanied the arms and smiled to himself, leaning into the being.

"Decided to show up, huh, babe," his tone wasn't hostile. Anything but. He smiled warmly at the insanely attractive figure behind him and turned his head to face him.

"I wouldn't miss this for a lifetime of torturing people from the NRA, Frankie." He kissed the Grim Reaper's neck who shuddered, both at the nick-name and the sudden attachment of lips to his neck. He slipped his book back into his back pocket and got on his tiptoes to kiss Satan. Satan smiled, his hands resting on Frankie's hips and pulling him closer. 

"My darling, Frank, how have the past few days gone? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," Satan muttered into his boyfriend's neck.

"Gee, could you uh... not t-talk into my neck?" He shuddered as another kiss was planted on it and hands held his hips from behind him.

"I'll do as I please, thanks very much," he said, removing his lips from Frank's neck anyways.

Frank and Gerard, the Grim Reaper and Satan himself finally embraced normally, Frankie burying his face in Gee's chest, inhaling the sweet scent of him, dearly clinging onto him like it was the last time he would. And Gee did the same, his hands moving down Frankie's back, too far, resting on his arse and hoisting the frail man to sit on his hips, legs wrapped around the Lord of the Underworld. And they smiled. It was blissful in Purgatory that evening.

"I brought you food Darling," Gee said, his red rimmed iris's glowing a little at the smile that appeared immediately on Frankie's face. He hadn't eaten for weeks. Again, he didn't have to. He was already dead. No need to keep up any systems in his body. But all food was welcome.

Gee took his boyfriend's hands and pulled him to another tree and sat him down next to a dark wooden basket on a little blanket on the ground. This tree was a black and silver one, the leaves floating down around them in slow motion, resembling bubbles travelling through rich honey.

Gerard sat down and grabbing Frankie's waist, pulled him down gently onto his lap. Frank bit his lip.

"Are they sweets?"