Gerard smirked softly as he leaned against the doorframe of Frank's bedroom, watching wordlessly as the man darted around the place. Frank was organising his belongings into the chestnut dresser that rested against the wall.
"You only brought my good clothes," Frank said plainly. It wasn't a complaint; it was simply an observation. "How did you know what clothes to take?"
"You wrote a list," Gerard said sheepishly. Frank smiled.
He seemed happy enough, Gerard thought. He knew he shouldn't have given Frank that horrible vision, but he needed the boy to fear him before earning his trust. Whilst Frank wasn't one hundred percent sold on the idea of living with a vampire, he seemed extremely pleased to be staying in such a luxurious bedroom. Gerard's mind wandered back to Frank's desolate apartment: the drab walls, the faded carpet and broken furniture.
"Are you pleased with your room?" He asked casually.
"I- Of course!" Frank stammered. "I mean, it's really amazing. You, uh, you have a really lovely place."
Gerard smiled warmly at that. He took a lot of pride in his house; it had been his dream to live in the woods ever since he was a mortal.
"If you'd like," he offered, "I could show you around later? So you can get to know the place."
Frank nodded curtly, pausing for a moment.
"That would be nice," he smiled.
Gerard could still sense the man's unease, which was understandable enough. Frank would become acclimated soon enough, though. He guided the human down the stairs, figuring he should begin his grand tour on the ground floor.
"You've obviously seen the kitchen," he explained. "It's quite basic, since I don't cook for myself, but you're welcome to help yourself to food at any time. Just tell me what you eat, and I'd be happy to buy it for you."
"Thank you." Frank felt his cheeks turn pink slightly; he would never get used to people buying things for him. That reminded him that he still had a job of his own. He wondered how angry Brian would be when Frank failed to show up to his next shift. Would Brian worry? Would he stop by Frank's apartment? Perhaps Brian and his landlord, Brad, will piece together his disappearance and get the police involved. Frank could only hope that someone would look for him.
It was more likely that no one would notice; no one would care.
Frank was interrupted from his thoughts by Gerard leading him to the next room - the lounge. Frank's eyes swept over the black leather couch that stretched across the back wall. Opposite the couch was an enormous television mounted above a cosy, stone fireplace.
"I rarely use that," Gerard said, gesturing to the fireplace. "It's more for decoration, though I do enjoy a fire sometimes."
Frank nodded, not fully registering the man's words. He was too busy admiring the bookshelves; rows upon rows of DVDs adorned the walls, from horror, to box sets of old sitcoms, to what appeared to be some old, black-and-white classics.
"Big movie buff?" Frank asked. Gerard chuckled.
"Yes, I love my movies."
Gerard strolled towards the shelf, eyeing his collection carefully.
"Do you have a favourite genre?" He asked, his back still turned to Frank.
"Horror," Frank replied. He watched as Gerard ran a thumb over a row of DVDs. The vampire pulled a number from the shelf, holding it up for Frank to see. Frank recognised it as Scream.
"Everybody's gotta watch Scream, it's like a requirement," Gerard said.
"I've already seen Scream," Frank scoffed.
"No, I didn't mean it like that! I meant it as, like, a requirement when you're getting to know someone new. If you're to live with me, we've gotta watch it together."
Frank smiled. Scream was one of his favourites, after all.
"Alright," he said.
"Later," Gerard agreed. "I still need to show you the library."
"You have a library?"
Gerard nodded, swiftly leading Frank further into the house until they reached two large, wooden doors. He slid them apart to reveal a room absolutely lined with books. Frank's mouth hung open in awe at the sheer number of books which adorned the walls, from rich hardcovers to battered, dog-eared paperbacks. There was even an entire half-wall dedicated to comic books. Gerard grinned at Frank's expression; he had always been proud of his library - the shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling, the ladders on tracks that could be slid from one end of the room to the other. It was the only room in his house, aside from Gerard's bedroom, that he had a hand in making himself.
"Oh!" Gerard said. "I forgot to tell you; I brought your books here. You can leave them in the library or have them in your room, whichever you'd prefer."
Frank's eyes travelled to the small stack of books that rested atop a low coffee table. His collection of books wasn't nearly as impressive as Gerard's; he only brought a few titles with him when he moved out of his parents' house.
"They can stay here," Frank said. Gerard nodded, gesturing to an empty space on one of the large bookshelves.
"Put them there, if you'd like."
Frank obliged, picking up his books. He began to move them to the gap in the bookshelf when Gerard stopped him.
"Can I see them? I'm a huge bookworm, in case you couldn't tell."
"Sure thing," Frank chuckled, setting his books back down on the table. "I get it, I'm a huge bookworm too."
Gerard sifted through Frank's books. He nodded thoughtfully as he turned over Lord of the Flies, 1984, and The Catcher in the Rye.
"This is my favourite," he said eagerly, holding up the dingy paperback. Frank grinned.
"I really liked Catcher in the Rye, too."
"Do you have a favourite out of all these?" Gerard asked, nodding towards the rest of the books which lay on the table. Frank bit his lip.
"Well, apart from Catcher in the Rye, probably Junk." He reached across Gerard to pick up a sickly green-coloured book, the spine cracked and the edges battered. "It was my favourite book as a teenager, taught me to not do drugs."
Gerard was pleasantly surprised to see a book that he did not recognise. He took it from Frank and turned it over in his pale hands, eyes sweeping over the blurb.
"Sounds interesting," he mused. "Mind if I give it a read sometime?"
"Uh, no! Not at all," Frank stammered.
They sat in silence for a while as Gerard examined the rest of Frank's books. He had read the majority of them before, except for Junk and The Five People You Meet in Heaven.
"I'm still reading that one," Frank said as Gerard read the blurb. "It's pretty good so-far, same guy that wrote Tuesdays with Morrie."
Gerard nodded, setting it back on the table.
"Did you like 1984?" He asked Frank. Frank nodded.
"It was great, honestly. You've read it?"
"I have a copy of it," Gerard began, "but I must admit... I've never finished it."
"Really?"
"Really. I preferred Animal Farm."
Frank winced.
"I couldn't stand Animal Farm!" He laughed. "They made me read it in high school."
"That's probably half the problem!" Gerard chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't enjoy it if it was forced upon you by teachers."
"No, I read Catcher in the Rye in school, too, and I loved that one," Frank said, looking up at Gerard. He couldn't help but feel a strange sensation twist in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was because he knew that he and the vampire had something in common. He decided to ask, "When did you first read it?"
"What, The Catcher in the Rye? Aw, not for ages, I gotta admit. When it first came out, it was more of an adult book than young-adult. So, I don't think I read it until..." Gerard paused, thinking. "After I got turned, I guess. After the war..."
Frank sat up.
"What war?" He asked.
"The Vietnam War," Gerard said like it was no big deal. He paused for a moment, reading Frank's expression.
"What year were you born?" Frank said hesitantly, looking the man up and down. Despite his knowledge of horror movies, it had totally slipped his mind that Gerard may be immortal.
"I was born in 1941," Gerard explained. "I supposed I should tell you a bit more about myself."
Frank nodded, tucking his feet under his legs. Gerard took a deep breath.
"So, I grew up in Jefferson," Gerard began. "Typical 1940s, 1950s kind of childhood. I lived with my mom and dad, and my younger brother Michael. There's really not much to say about what my life was like in my human years, I suppose. Unless you want to know?"
Frank stared at Gerard for a moment. With all due respect to the guy, he really only cared about how he became a vampire.
"It's fine," Frank said. "Just tell me the parts you want."
Gerard nodded, continuing:
"So yeah, uh... Well, I grew up, and moved out and all. And when I was twenty-five, my birthdate was drawn for the war; I was drafted.
Once again, there's not really much to say about the war. You probably know the gist of things already, and I can sense that you're mostly interested in the vampire-side of my life. Essentially, I was doing a routine patrol with my lieutenant and the rest of my unit. There was the constant threat of being ambushed hanging over our heads, and everything was ridiculously tense. We were practically tripping over with every step; the vines were getting thicker and the jungle was becoming more dense. It was night; I couldn't see, and it was just so sticky and humid. There was no breeze; it was just so hot. I'll admit, I lost focus for a large part of that night. I was too preoccupied with the heat and the fatigue.
Suddenly, the stillness was shattered by the eruption of gunfire. Bullets whizzed through the air towards us and we were forced to retreat. We returned gunfire for a while, of course, but the visibility was just too poor. It was so disorienting - the cacophony of sound and the blood. Blood clouded my vision; whether it was mine or someone else's, I wasn't sure. I ran and ran, finding myself separated from the group. I was in an unfamiliar part of the jungle, my senses still heightened from the attack.
I was knocked to the ground from behind. Whoever did it was lightning fast; I didn't even have time to reach for a weapon. My attacker knelt on my hands so I couldn't fight back. They were strong - heavy, too - and I couldn't get them off of me. I looked up to see this person; black hair, cinammon-coloured skin, really dark eyes. I figured they must've been a native, or something. Looking back, they were probably just a nomadic vampire who was there to take advantage of all the bloodshed of the war.
What happened next is kind of hazy for me. I felt a bite, and this burning sensation seeped into my neck. I was totally incapacitated; I just lay there and screamed. Eventually the vampire backed off, leaving me to die.
I came to in a medical tent with horrific fever symptoms. This is the part that I can't remember at all, but apparently I was kept there until my symptoms improved. They had every intention of sending me back out to the front lines, but I was just too... changed. I wouldn't eat or drink anything, and I'd withdrawn from the other soldiers and medical faculty. I wouldn't cooperate with them, so they sent me home."
Frank gazed up at Gerard in wonder. The vampire cleared his throat to continue, but Frank interrupted him:
"How come I'm not a vampire? If you bit me, that is."
Gerard grimaced.
"There are two types of vampire bites; ones with venom and ones without. Yes, we're venomous, Frank," Gerard added, sensing the boy's confusion. "A vampire can consciously decide whether or not to deliver venom to the human they bite. The venom is what makes a vampire; if you get it in your bloodstream, then you will be turned. Why that vampire in Vietnam chose to turn me, I'm not sure. It could have been an accident; some vampires aren't as good at controlling themselves."
Frank nodded, shuddering slightly at the thought.
"Do you like being a vampire?" He asked. Gerard pondered his question for a moment before nodding.
"I do, Frank," he smiled. "When I first came home from the war, I was confused. I hadn't figured out what I was yet; all I knew was that I craved blood. I was horrified by what I'd become, so I remained holed-up in my home. My parents and friends assumed that I was just shell-shocked. Mikey, my brother, could tell that something was up, though. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and I let myself out at night. I passed someone in an alleyway and I couldn't control myself; I lunged out and bit him. It was just... heavenly."
"Did they die?" Frank asked worriedly.
"I don't think so," Gerard said. "As soon as I felt full, I left him alone. His heart was still beating. I raced back home and got cleaned up, and that became my secret lifestyle for the better part of two years.
After that, I met some other vampires. They found me, and we became friends fast. They taught me more about what I had become, how to live the lifestyle without getting caught. I didn't stick around them for long, though. They were quite a sadistic bunch, and I was more focused on feeding to stay alive, not hurting people."
Frank nodded.
"So how old are you?" He asked. "Physically, that is."
"I turned twenty-six in Vietnam, not long before I was bitten," Gerard explained. "So I'm physically twenty-six, but I've been around for much longer than that. I celebrated my sixty-third birthday in April this year."
Frank hesitated for a moment; this guy was older than his dad. Jesus.
"How old are you Frank?"
"Twenty-two," he replied. "I turn twenty-three in, uh... what's the date today?"
"The ninth."
"Then I'll be twenty-three in..." Frank stared at his slender hands, counting under his breath. "Twenty-two days from now."
"Halloween," Gerard smiled. "That suits you."
Frank smiled back. Gerard observed the man's features; he was quite pretty, he thought.
"What do you want to do for your birthday, Frankie?" He asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of Frank's hair behind his ear. Frank felt his breath hitch; why was Gerard having this effect on him?
"I, um... I'm not sure, really," Frank stammered. This year would be his first birthday without Ray. He'd never celebrated alone before; even when his parents kicked him out, Ray had still been there to do something with him. Frank's fondest memory had been his eighteenth, where he and Ray had gotten stoned and baked a cake together. It tasted like shit; they added far too much butter, which fucked with Frank's stomach. But, it had been fun.
Gerard sensed Frank's solemn change in mood and frowned at him, cocking his head to the side to see Frank's face.
"You okay?" He asked. "You don't have to have your birthday here, I won't force you."
"It's not that," Frank reassured the vampire. He didn't want Gerard to know why he was upset; not yet, at least. "Don't worry, I'll think of something to do."
Gerard and Frank remained silent for a while after that. Unsure of what to say, Gerard reached over and lazily picked up Junk by Melvin Burgess. He flipped to chapter one and began to read about the two runaway teenagers, Tar and Gemma. Frank followed suit, picking up where he left off in The Five People You Meet in Heaven. They spent the day that way, each curled up in their respective armchairs. Despite finding his book riveting, Gerard couldn't help but take a moment after each chapter to steal a glimpse of Frank. Frank sat with his knees tucked under him, sinking slightly into the plush, red velvet of the armchair. He turned each page with care, biting his lip thoughtfully at certain parts. Gerard smiled as Frank turned the final page and sat up to stretch.
"You might like that one," Frank suggested. "It does have stuff about Vietnam in it, though..."
"I'd love to read it, I might give it a go after I finish Junk."
Frank smiled.
"Liking it so-far?"
"It's great, honestly," Gerard said, sliding a bookmark in between the pages to keep his place. He stood up beside Frank. "Would you like something to eat?"
Aside from the occasional food break for Frank, the pair spent the remainder of their day in the library. Gerard finished both of Frank's books whilst Frank started the latest instalment in the Harry Potter series. Shortly after 9PM, Frank timidly announced that he was going to shower and go to bed. Gerard thanked him for the day and waved him goodnight. He heard Frank climb the stairs and shut the bathroom door, the shower turning on shortly afterwards. Gerard sighed, nestling further into his seat and tipping his head back against the headrest. He knew Frank was going to love it here - eventually, at least. He could just feel it.