"Frances, please get out of the blood. You're ruining your clothes."
Frank reluctantly stood up, but didn't dare take a step away from his current position. From the outside of the doorway, Gerard beckoned him to come out of the room by motioning with his fingers. Frank refused to budge.
"Tell me why my neighbor is dead on your floor," Frank heaved, staring Gerard in his gleaming eyes.
"She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. My guard dog found her patroling my premises. I couldn't exactly help what happened; she was illegally on my land."
"Since when do you have a guard dog? I've 'been on your land' multiple times, and there was no sign of a guard dog."
Gerard looked at Frank without faulter and replied, "I just recently acquired a guard dog specifically because of you, Frances. I didn't want anyone else knowing I live here. It's probably because of you sneaking over here that she felt the need to come over here herself. She is a reporter, if I'm not mistaken. I like being left alone. I don't want the public knowing what I'm up to."
Frank dropped his gaze back to the woman on the floor and ran over multiple thoughts in his head.
"So she's technically dead...because of me?"
"Technically. But no worries, you won't be held responsible, I'll be sure of that."
At last, Frank stepped out of the puddle that seemed to stop growing for the time being. He had seen dog attacks before, and this didn't look like one of those times. It was definitely something with knarly teeth, but it wasn't a dog. He let Gerard lead him to a room on the first floor where he had water, soap, laundry lines, and other cleaning materials. He demanded Frank to take off his shoes, which he easily obliged. Choosing to stand in a blood puddle while wearing Converse wasn't exactly his best idea. He then comanded that Frank take off his pants, as they were also soaked with the red menace. There was nothing on his shirt, so Frank was relieved that he wasn't completely naked. Still, he felt the need to ask Gerard for extra clothes until his clothes had soaked and dried.
"Are you ashamed of your body? I don't mind if you're half-clothed," Gerard stated, immediately adding, "a-as long as it's for a purpose."
"Yeah, well you aren't the one half naked, Mr. I-Wear-Twenty-Layers-Of-Clothing."
Gerard chuckled and removed an outer layer of his extravegant outfit and placed it over Frank.
"Don't trip; it's long and expensive."
A smile grew on Frank's face for the first time that day, even if it was almost midnight. He snuggled into the lavish garment and sneakily sniffed it to find that it smelled of books and...something else. He didn't know if Gerard wore cologne or not, but he was too embarrassed to actually ask. It just seemed odd for a married, grown man to ask another grown man if he wore cologne. It just wasn't the social norm. He figured it didn't matter; it smelled good, and that's all he needed to know.
"Don't you usually...sleep by this time?" Gerard had removed multiple layers of clothing in the time that Frank was thinking. He really did have about twenty layers on.
"Well, yeah...but you usually are wide awake at this time, so I'll stay up with you. You seem like you need company."
Gerard scoffed and shook his head, "I have the company of Esmerelda and my books. You have a wife to look after. I met with her earlier and she seemed very upset... I wouldn't be surprised if she's still waiting up for you. I know I would be."
Frank glanced at Gerard with a look of confusion.
"You met with my wife? Where?"
"Well, at your house of course. I was looking for you, but you were," he stopped to enunciate clearing his throat, "in my house."
"See the problem here is that you keep your door unlocked," Frank joked.
"Yes, well, I never remember where I place my keys. It's much easier for me to just keep everything unlocked. With exceptions, of course."
"What, like secret doors?"
Avoiding the question, Gerard began to scrub Frank's soaking clothes and pin them up on one of the multiple laundry lines being thread throughout the room. Frank eyed him questioningly, but didn't edge him on for an answer.Good answers come in time, Gerard had said the day they met.
"Your clothes should be dried in the next hour or so. In this time we have together, what would you like to do? I know I have many things I should be doing, but since you're here, I might as well keep you entertained. Would you like to see my billiard room?"
Gerard walked over to the open doorway and added, "I'll take your silence as a yes. Come, Frances."
Frank followed silently, watching the paintings on the walls whip past as they seemed to be running down the multiple corridors. However, he stopped at one point to observe a painting that made his head spin. The dark brown hair, hazel eyes, look of determination...
"Why is there a painting of me in your house?"
Gerard hadn't noticed that Frank had ceased following, but turned immediately when he heard the distance between them. He walked quickly over to where Frank was looking, because he was very sure he didn't have a painting of Frank in his house. When he saw it, though, realization flooded around him, and he was calmer with his next actions.
"That isn't you, Frances. It is someone named Frances, but it isn't you. It was an old friend of mine, you see. He was... Ah, nevermind memories. They do no good. Come, the billiard room is down this next corridor," Gerard answered, pulling Frank away from the painting.
----------
"Gerard, no fair! You're too good at this!"
Gerard had defeated Frank at Fooseball for the 18th time that night. Even as they were playing, Frank was still dumbfounded at the sheer fact that Gerard had games in his house. He thought Gerard just sat in his study, reading books all day; well, night. He didn't think he was capable of actual fun.
Gerard let out a ridiculous laughter as he scored yet another goal, "Well, when you get as old as me, you learn all the little tricks."
There was that age thing again.
"Yeah, well I'm only like 28, so I guess I don't know much, huh?" Frank chuckled, hoping that Gerard would reveal his age as well.
"I guess not," he shrugged.
Frank paused for a moment, hoping that Gerard would proceed to give out his age, but he continued scoring goals while Frank was distracted. He seemed like such a kid sometimes, Frank thought, using an unfair advantage while sticking his tongue out; there's no way he's older than me. He watched Gerard for a little longer, seeing him do little cheers when he got another goal. He didn't notice that Frank wasn't even playing anymore. This is what he must've done all these years to have fun; he didn't have anybody to keep him company so he just played games by himself. It made Frank's heart ache.
"Hey, Gerard, have you ever played a video game?"
Gerard looked up distractedly from his single-player game of Fooseball and slurred out, "A...what?"
"Oh, this'll be good," Frank smirked, gripping Gerard's long-sleeve-covered arm and pulling him out of the mansion.
"Frances, it's nearly three in the morning! You need to get home to your woman!"
"My woman?" Frank laughed, "Please don't tell me you suddenly got a hold of television and started watching MTV."
"What's MTV? Isn't that a vehicle?"
"Oh, boy. You need to learn some stuff about the modern world."
"Frances, I don't want to know about the modern world," Gerard pulled Frank to a stop in the middle of the street. "It's full of electricity, and that's all I need to know to hate it." He gave the street light a menacing glare for effect.
"Gee, come on, some electricity is fun. Like video games."
Gerard looked at Frank strangly for a moment, then following with, "What did you call me?"
"Oh, uh. Gerard. Sorry, man. I'm used to giving my friends nicknames," Frank replied, turning pink, then mumbled, "And that's the cutest one I've made up yet."
Gerard turned bright red and ran a distance away from the streetlight so that Frank couldn't see his face. He still had one of his many cloaks on, and he used it to wrap himself in warmth against the chilly morning air. Gerard had a sick feeling in his stomach, like he knew something was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what yet.
"You know, Frances, today is the thirtieth of October. Tomorrow is Hallows Eve."
"You mean Halloween. That's my birthday."
"Oh," Gerard's face fell flat.
"This could be a problem."