X: the artistry of the ocean, and the delicacy of drowning...
[note; the final chapter... you aren't prepared, xo.]
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Something wasn't quite right anymore. Not in Kitsfort. Not with Frank. Not with Gerard.
March was full-bloom in the air -- the brisk January and February air melting away as spring slowly, slowly approached. It was still chilled, with a low breeze -- the day gorgeous, except for one thing. Something was wrong, only, Frank didn't know what it was.
Gerard had grown distant once more -- feeling as if the ghost boy that he'd known at first had been tugged back to the forefront, silent, staring, a constant mask plastered across a flat expression. Frank hadn't known what had gone wrong. He knew nothing of whether it was something he did, or something external that Gerard wouldn't tell him about -- or something completely out of the ball-park. He just didn't know, and the sheer thought scared him.
He hadn't approached Gerard yet, letting his confusion drown him to the point of near insanity -- tugging on his hair at night, staring at his bare ceiling to muddle in his never-ending worry, driving himself mad with the unknown blaring right in his face. He hadn't known what he'd done wrong. Maybe Gerard had just realized that he was nothing more than a little boy trapped inside a mature body -- that he was still weak, fragile, not worthy of his love any longer. That he was just sick and pathetic, and that it wasn't worth to spend a lifetime with someone who'd likely not even make it to the age of fifty.
Frank was drowning, drowning in his thoughts once more in the deafening silence of the night -- like he couldn't breathe as his stomach lurched and whirled with worry. The fogs settling around the town had only worsened, and Frank hadn't dare leave the house without either Pencey or the rosary itself stashed away on him -- not after he'd spotted a spirit in town.
Frank was still weary after the whole encounter down at the dock too, with the song he'd heard -- not daring to tell Gerard of what he feared had nearly gone down. If it hadn't been for Dave, Frank was terrified at the fact that he knew he'd likely be at the bottom of the bay by now...
He was staring at his phone, though, pursing his lips as he stared at him and Gerard's last text conversation -- the latter seeming so fucking distant lately, terrifying Frank that something was wrong. It wasn't quite a worry that the other was cheating, with the big fact that he didn't fucking talk to anybody but Frank -- but rather, that something maybe a bit more sinister was slowly unraveling, something that he had no idea of...
Gerard knew exactly what he thought was happening, though.
In the house just next door, Gerard was at his desk -- laptop with twenty different scatter-brained tabs open, books tossed open all across the surface, and his hands in his hair. He was frowning deep, a few old newspaper articles folded to the side, and a half-emptied cup of coffee beside him.
He groaned loudly, tugging on his hair as he blinked away the grogginess, not even meant to be awake at such a horrid hour of the morning. He'd grown obsessive, though. Reading, reading, reading -- worrying, distancing himself from the one who he loved most -- terrified out of his wits for what slowly, he was uncovering.
He didn't want to believe it. He truly, truly didn't. But he was this close to breaking down into further tears, throwing his head back. He leant back over his desk in a swift, startling movement -- snatching the polaroid photos of Aella's charred stump. Staring, staring, staring -- heart lurching in disbelief.
Everything had strung together, all the little fucking pieces of the puzzle fit snug -- and Gerard knew that it was true, as much as he didn't want to. This all couldn't have been a coincidence -- it couldn't have. There had to have been some explanation as to why Aella had burnt, as to why a living tree had burnt to the ground.
Gerard just didn't want to accept the one that he was given. No. He knew that there had been a reason as to why he was delving so deep into this all in the first place -- he didn't have these suspicions for no reason, yet, now that he'd uncovered it, he wanted nothing but to believe.
Because there was no fucking way that Frank was the curse destined to doom Kitsfort to an end...
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Frank had had enough. He was this close to tearing himself apart because of stupid Gerard -- beating himself up and drowning in self-hatred for his own fucking boyfriend's lack of communication.
So he decided to do something about it. Stood on Gerard's doorstep, knocking loud -- paired with pursed lips and stern posture, with a lack of Pencey, though, something that he hoped he wouldn't regret.
He immediately melted back into a weak puddle once more, when Gerard opened the door, though. He didn't really say much, the two just staring until Frank swallowed the nervous lump in his throat, opening his mouth pointedly. "I want to talk."
Gerard froze for a second, blinking.
"Scratch that, we need to talk," Frank added, biting his lip hard as Gerard frowned a little bit.
Gerard nodded quietly, not speaking -- but holding up a little finger, shutting the door right in Frank's face. Frank blinked at the door, mouth agape for a few moments -- just about to jam at the damn doorbell and get that son of a bitch back out here -- except just as he had been reaching to do it, the door swung back open, and Gerard was now swathed in a jacket. Okay?
He stepped out just as quietly, the door shutting behind him as he walked past Frank -- and off of the porch, setting off down the street as the younger followed quick, biting on his lip as his pissed off attitude softened into one of just pure confusion. "Where are we going? Why are we going down to Aella?" Frank asked.
Gerard looked over, expression lacking of emotion -- startling Frank's gut into further worry, because this was starting to feel horrifyingly similar to how it had been back in November...
The simple look startled Frank into silence, mouth clamping shut as he quietly followed Gerard down the street once more. Something felt wrong, and Frank didn't like it one bit. He ran his fingertips along the picket fence, though, frowning a bit as they passed Aella's stump -- heading down the staircase to the shore.
"Gerard, seriously," Frank finally spoke as they started down the dock -- because Frank didn't have his fucking oxygen, and it was startlingly windy down here, Frank feeling as if he was about to go flying off into the water. "What's happening? I know that we like to talk down here, but--"
He shut his mouth for himself at the little further look that Gerard gave him, sick to his stomach as he nodded in an understanding of the literal nothing that the older had spoken. He only balled his hands into his pockets, chewing on the inside of his gum.
The breeze was racketing, blowing loudly -- filling up most of the noise, spare the restless sound of the waves crashing both the dock and the shore. Frank heard nothing more, nothing less.
Gerard was frowning, though, not looking at Frank. His gaze was lost somewhere, out in the horizon -- staring out at the open waters as the afternoon sun shone high, warming up the air with the slightest twinge of sweetness, and reflecting the waters just a bit. Most of the beams were shrouded by the clouds, though, casting them in a gloom dark that had Frank frowning along with Gerard.
Gerard wasn't sure what he was trying to do. He knew what he needed to do, but he didn't want to do it. He was silent as he could be, trying to keep his hands from shaking and chest from trembling as he stared into the waters. Frank was unaware, oblivious -- a bit rightfully scared. Gerard needed to save Frank, he knew that. It didn't cease the fear, though.
Frank was watching Gerard closely as he finally turned to him -- voice low and in his terror-inducing drawl just as it had in the beginning. The sound made Frank queasy. "I know," Was all he said.
"You-- you know what?" Frank asked. His pissed-off fists from the start of this all had loosened into twitching fingers, clenching around the bit of unease in his chest.
Gerard chuckled a bit, and Frank swallowed. Loud. "Do you really think that I'm stupid, Frank?"
"No, I don't," Frank replied, unsure and unsteady from where his knees wobbled a little bit.
"So did you really think that I wouldn't notice?" Gerard said haughtily, gaze turning out to the ravishing waters as he grew a little lost again. "I've been studying these things half my life, Frankie. You honestly can't believe that you could trick us that easily."
"I'm sorry?" Frank asked, eyebrows raising. "Gee, what the ever-living fuck are you talking about?"
Gerard turned to him all of the sudden, chest taking a big breath as he stood so much bigger and stronger than a tiny, fragile Frank -- the latter jolting in genuine fear. "I don't know why you're doing this, why you're doing this now," Gerard growled quietly, Frank taking half a subconscious step back -- breath hitching as the older drew nearer. "But I've got you fucking figured out, and I'm not going to let you bring evil to our town any longer."
Frank was hyperventilating -- holy fuck, he was hyperventilating. Complete and utter terror rolled down his spine all in a few seconds, freezing him to the spot as he felt sudden tears brimming, chest lurching -- because Gerard's eyes were dark, and Frank was fucking seeping with fear to his very bones. "Gerard, I-- I have no idea what the fu--fuck you're talking about, please..." Frank whimpered quietly.
Gerard rolled his eyes, chuckling a little bit before glancing shortly to the horizon. "I think they're calling your name, Frank... I can hear them. Can't you? They want you back where you fucking came from," He spat towards the end, and his eyes were so glazed over that Frank nearly threw up. "Then, we can figure this out, and we can have our happily ever after... right, Frankie?"
"Gerard, I-- I don't understand," Frank whispered, shaking his head in disbelief as tears rolled down his cheeks -- realization hitting all at once as he realized what was happening. "No-- no! Gerard, it's the fucking Sirens, you don't have to do this, please--"
Frank sputtered to a stop as he was backed a little closer to the edge of the dock, his heel nicking one of the posts. Gerard was all up on him, the wind picking up, and ravishing against them, both their hair whipping.
Frank didn't know what to do, he was panicking -- too close to the edge for his comfort. The waves were screaming, beckoning, calling him closer -- but Frank didn't want to fucking go. He couldn't fucking swim, he'd-- he'd fucking die if he went in there. So, logically -- through his terror, he did the only thing he could think of, raising a hand before Gerard could think, and slapping him. Hard.
Gerard recoiled -- but unfortunately for Frank, it didn't seem to quite work like how it did in the movies. He wasn't snapped out of whatever damn trance he was in -- instead, he was just pissed off, a scowl on his face as he grabbed Frank's arms -- the latter yelping in fright. "No, no-- I'm sorry!" He screamed, sobbing as Gerard had him. He was so easily overpowered by the other, knowing he stood no chance if he were to try and escape.
Gerard shook his head slowly, biting down on his lip. He didn't speak, only stared Frank down. Frank was still hyperventilating, sobbing hard --- tears streaking his cheeks, and his entire body trembling in complete and utter horror.
Frank shook his own head, falling so desperate that he turned to appeal the situation in such a way that made himself sick to his stomach, offering himself up as if he were a meal on a platter. "No, Gerard, don't hurt me, please--" He whispered quietly, voice broken. "I-- I'll do anything, please. You-- you can use me however you want, you can do anything, I don't care, I'll do what you want. I--"
"I don't want to have sex with you, Frankie," Gerard said gently through that low voice of his, "Not right now. I'm going to save you, darling... I'm going to save everybody."
"Please, Gerard," Frank begged, swallowing. "Why are you doing this?"
"It's all for you, my love," Gerard said, voice sounding so genuine that Frank almost believed it for a moment. "I love you, Frank. Don't ever forget that."
And then Frank couldn't even blink before he was being shoved into the water.
The first step was panic, because Frank knew damn well that he was panicking. The water was freezing cold -- already soaking him to his bones as he sunk beneath the waves crashing over, fear washing over him as the entirety of it all sunk in. Holy fuck, he was underwater.
Gerard had leaped in too, and Frank only knew that by the fact of hands coming strong atop his shoulders -- keeping him down as his mouth was involuntarily clamped shut, his little noises of terror muffled as his lungs already burnt like hell on Earth itself. His fingers clenched, grasping, searching for any sort of leverage beneath Gerard's strong hold keeping him down.
At first, Frank had thought that maybe it had been some sort of practical joke, or sick delusion -- but it wasn't, because Gerard most certainly hadn't been in the water to save him. He was there to end him.
Even through Frank's struggling efforts, water had managed to find its way into his mouth -- his throat closing up without his command, feet kicking violently, trashing. He could feel the waves continuously washing over him, tumbling him a bit with each further onslaught -- wishing he could scream, but was rather savoring what lung capacity he had left while he could. What use was screaming when he was beneath the undertow, anyway?
He really couldn't compute much rather than the utter terror seeping in his bones the further that the water was, feeling a little dizzy -- a lotta scared. He was afraid, feeling like he would cry if he was able to. He was thrashing as violently as he could, for something -- anything to save him from this doom. Trying to kick his legs and propel himself towards the surface, doing anything to escape from the hands doing all they could to keep him down.
He could feel himself kick Gerard at least once -- a harsh jolt hit somewhere Frank couldn't quite see at the moment, with his eyes squeezed shut, but he could hear a pained grunt from the other. He'd grabbed onto Gerard's wrist, holding him tight as he spluttered for a moment, swallowing water and choking in utter, utter panic.
He could hear a song softly rising from the deep sea below. Gentle, rhythmic, lulling him closer and closer to fate as everything felt like it was melting around him. At first, it was the voice of that same feminine aura, whispering mellow tunes that Frank nearly hadn't even realized what she was speaking of.
She was calling him closer, luring, tugging -- aching to have him to herself as her song seeped deep inside his already fuzzy brain. Frank could feel that he was quickly fading, though, like little bits of him flitting away as if he were made of grains of sand in the wind. Falling between the fingertips of a dearly beloved -- his own dearly beloved lost. Lost, lost, lost, Frank figured.
He'd gasped a little bit more, against his own will -- gurgling as bubbles fell in a flurry from his mouth, nostrils flaring, and eyes burning in time with his lungs. He felt heavy, so fucking heavy -- ready to just let go, to accept his fate.
It all felt so twisted, so wrong -- to die at the hands of your lover. But Frank didn't blame Gerard anymore. He was misled, wronged -- tricked by the lure of the Siren that Frank could vaguely hear himself. Promising that Frank was evil, a curse, and that the only way to save him, if he'd loved him, was to drown him in these very waters. Frank was okay. He understood now.
God, he'd even begun to believe it himself. He was delusional, his head feeling nauseatingly light -- dizzy, leading him towards this light blinding in the corner of his eyes. Yet it was dark, it was fucking dark all over. His already squeezed shut eyes had faded around the edges, Frank falling somber for a moment as he accepted his fate. Oh, cruel fate. To be the victim of death once more, the beauty of drowning -- the delicacy of the sea.
His limbs were ice cold, arms frozen as he finally gave up the struggle -- slipping on the edge of consciousness as another strong wave washed over him. Frank had always known that he'd likely go out in some foolish way. Yet, somehow -- he hadn't expected it to be the type of foolish to fall victim to his own lover's hands. To fall for somebody that would end up being both the physical and metaphorical death of him. But, somehow, deep down -- he didn't regret a thing. He didn't regret falling in love with his demise, no, he didn't regret a single moment of it. Because, what better way to end, than knowing that you'll go out in love, as tragic as it was?
Alas, this is how our story ends... not with a bang, nor even a whimper. But, with Frank's head slipping away, falling into the dark abyss of unconsciousness as he sunk deeper, deeper, deeper. Finally, to hit the bottom, and to become one with the twisted creatures calling his name...
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a/n; fuck. that physically pained me to write. (it's kinda shit? eek.) i TOLD myself not to get attached, bc i knew that he would die all along, but it still hurt. uhh, anyway, i wanted to go into more detail as to why our insane g-dawg was killing frank, but..,, i guess i'll leave some of that up to interpretation :') the only epilogue you'll be getting is that yes, frank is dead. </3
ouch, anyway. i hope you're still able to enjoy your day/night/oops, do some hw, and drink some water!! be on the lookout for a new medieval au soon enough, too! xox, mikes.
"i hate the ending myself, but it started with an alright scene..."