Status: Still active! I update slowly, but I do update (:
Beauty and the Beast
Time.
At least the house was clean.
I was scrubbing a window, a very large, dusty window with a rag at the moment, sleeves comfortably rolled up and hair tied back in a ponytail. Bob was nearby, sort of half-heartedly helping me, mostly staring off into space. He seemed to be listening to something my feeble ears couldn't hear.
After sitting in bed with Bob for a long while, the awkwardness set in and I decided I needed to do something -- the only stipulation, said Bob, was that he had to be with me at all times. He refused to say why, asshole, but I assumed it had to do with whatever Gerard and the others were having lunch with outside.
The was the other thing I learned: it was just Bob and I. Frank, Mikey, and Ray were all with Gerard, too.
There was some sort of fear that came with the concept of death that was more poignant and raw than any other fear in the world. What was so frightful about it was the unavoidability of it; nobody cheated death. Nobody had an advantage. Death was chaotic, and chaos is fair.
Even if the four males out in the dark woods right now were perhaps immortal... were they really? While I knew that for sure, anything in this house could kill me (it could collapse, catch fire, I could fall and break my neck, Bob could destroy me in a heartbeat...) I knew that my death would be easy. Horrifying, and easy.
Their deaths would not be. If for any reason I was told that any of them had died, I wouldn't cope well remotely, in any way at all. In that way, death is hard, and death is scary. You cannot run, hide, or fight it. And nobody has ever won.
Sighing softly, I brushed back a loose strand of hair, and stepped back to admire my work. Window was sparkling clean. I smiled to myself.
"I'm pretty awesome, huh?" I jokingly said to Bob. He snapped out of his haze, as expected, and half-smiled.
"Need help?" he offered. What a guy; even with his offer, his solemn expression barely changed. He was a brick wall and a half.
"That'd be great," I replied warmly.
---
Gerard's POV!
---
"GERARD! FUCK, MOVE WILL YOU, MOVE!"
HA! If only I'd heard that sooner. I felt the skin on my chest rip -- trust me, I felt pain, I felt it good -- and slowly my dead, slimy blood began to seep out. He saw what he did, and for just that moment he was distracted, pleased with his shitty handiwork, and it was all the distraction I needed for Ray motherfucking Toro to nail a very hard elbow to the face. There was a crack that was like music to my ears, a screaming growl of pain and I laughed at him so brightly. All the trees danced and shook with me, as I clutched my bleeding chest in agony, in ecstasy, laughing and laughing and laughing as the shitty troop of them retreated.
They would never, never, never fucking touch April. I would tear down the Devil's throat to make sure of it.
"Gee, Frank's gone. Took off -- he was hurt."
My laughter died down abruptly and I groaned instead, long and loud and irritated. A little bi-polar, but nothing they weren't used to. Mikey was brushing off his clothes awkwardly, Ray was frowning. We were all a little worried. Frank had gotten hurt; he was the youngest and always flipped shit when a fight was coming up. He was hasty and overconfident.
He'd be fine, though. Probably just went away to lick his wounds.
Blood trickled over my fingers, and I stood up with aches running through my whole torso, walking back in the direction of home. Home; I cracked a sick smile. I'd never used that word before, I just referred to it as the manor, the mansion, the house.
Maybe I just meant April. And that was what hurt the fucking worst.
---
April's POV!
---
The house was clean.
The house was empty.
With nothing to do, I suddenly felt like one of them -- or at least, Bob Bryar. In a long moment of silence, strangely, Bob spoke up in a far-away voice. He was looking up at the ceiling and the cobwebs I couldn't reach, probably watching tiny spiders spinning out of bounds from my sight. Distracted. Thoughtful.
"Sometimes I think I feel the earth move," he said sort of to himself, but loud enough so I could hear. "I feel time, going by me. Like I'm there, but it won't bother with me. Like I'm just existing as a mirror, just a reflection of everything else going on."
And right now, my eyes glazed like old strained glass window, I looked out languidly at the walls and their fading paint and disentegrating wallpaper. In a rush of light, airy serotonin, my mind faded off into thoughts of wearing old clothes and working hard to tear off the old wallpaper and repaint everything, to really scrub down the whole place and give it a lively charm back, make it seem like home. And maybe there'd be a gold ring on my ring finger and Gerard would argue with me about colours but eventually compromise and we'd have lunch together and it was then, with these thoughts, that I realized where I was going with this and smiled for no reason (not even genuinely) and shook my head a little. The world kind of shifted a little, like suddenly I was aware of the earth moving under me, as it had been the whole time.
"I think maybe I'll take a nap," I said suddenly, my voice lost-sounding. Bob's brow perked with concern, lips frowning a little.
"You okay?" he questioned.
"Just a little tired all of a sudden. Worrying drains a girl, yeah?"
"All right. Well, I'll walk you to your room..."
He and I turned together, and took a single step toward the staircase that led toward my room, when the front doors burst open like a monsoon and hellish screaming, shouting, filled every piece of the air. The doors smashed against the walls, clambering even louder, the giant bronze knocker rung piercingly, thickly, and the cold air came bursting in with it. Amidst the scene, tumbling in like a flustered, fitful bat -- bats -- were Gerard, Mikey, and Ray.
"GERARD, CALM DOWN, WILL YOU!?"
"You are acting like a fucking animal!"
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"
Blood, blood, blood, blood, splattering gently everywhere. Ray was furiously trying to restrain Gerard, as was Mikey -- each of them had an arm and seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Encompassing the scene was hard, and when I finally did, I felt nauseous and tearful.
Gerard Way had a very prominant, gaping gash in his chest, and his black t-shirt was shredded from it, wet-looking. He definitely wasn't bleeding like a normal person -- it seemed syrupy and gunky. And he was in immense pain from the way he clawed and fought and yelled.
Mikey managed to kick a door closed with his foot, and Bob hastily shut the other, locking it behind him before trying to help restrain/calm Gerard.
And I stood there.
There was a constant, thick trickle of thoughts that I found hard to register. How did he get hurt? Why was he so out of control? Where was Frankie? Would he be okay? Would he even recognise me? My knees wobbled a little and I felt my expression fall to the ground and I couldn't do anything but stare.
"Gerard, you need to fucking calm down, thrashing isn't fucking helping ANYONE," Bob snapped at him, firmly holding him by the shoulders. Mikey seemed to be struggling and Ray was looking more irritated by the second.
Gerard, though, oh how he snarled and screeched and raged like a trapped lion. His posture was feral, his fangs eye-catching and eyes a muddy shade of red swamp. His hands were held in a claw-link shape, and he fought harder. I took a step back, instinctively protecting myself with my arms held in front of me, trying to make myself small.
My movement caught his attention. His eyes found mine. He stopped moving.
He screamed again, and this time I felt the earth shake, and something like deja vu came over me, and Mikey and Ray and Bob were suddenly all shoved back and Gerard was a faint blur, going up a staircase.
("doyourememberbackwhenwemetyoutoldmethisgetsharder.")
I was scrubbing a window, a very large, dusty window with a rag at the moment, sleeves comfortably rolled up and hair tied back in a ponytail. Bob was nearby, sort of half-heartedly helping me, mostly staring off into space. He seemed to be listening to something my feeble ears couldn't hear.
After sitting in bed with Bob for a long while, the awkwardness set in and I decided I needed to do something -- the only stipulation, said Bob, was that he had to be with me at all times. He refused to say why, asshole, but I assumed it had to do with whatever Gerard and the others were having lunch with outside.
The was the other thing I learned: it was just Bob and I. Frank, Mikey, and Ray were all with Gerard, too.
There was some sort of fear that came with the concept of death that was more poignant and raw than any other fear in the world. What was so frightful about it was the unavoidability of it; nobody cheated death. Nobody had an advantage. Death was chaotic, and chaos is fair.
Even if the four males out in the dark woods right now were perhaps immortal... were they really? While I knew that for sure, anything in this house could kill me (it could collapse, catch fire, I could fall and break my neck, Bob could destroy me in a heartbeat...) I knew that my death would be easy. Horrifying, and easy.
Their deaths would not be. If for any reason I was told that any of them had died, I wouldn't cope well remotely, in any way at all. In that way, death is hard, and death is scary. You cannot run, hide, or fight it. And nobody has ever won.
Sighing softly, I brushed back a loose strand of hair, and stepped back to admire my work. Window was sparkling clean. I smiled to myself.
"I'm pretty awesome, huh?" I jokingly said to Bob. He snapped out of his haze, as expected, and half-smiled.
"Need help?" he offered. What a guy; even with his offer, his solemn expression barely changed. He was a brick wall and a half.
"That'd be great," I replied warmly.
---
Gerard's POV!
---
"GERARD! FUCK, MOVE WILL YOU, MOVE!"
HA! If only I'd heard that sooner. I felt the skin on my chest rip -- trust me, I felt pain, I felt it good -- and slowly my dead, slimy blood began to seep out. He saw what he did, and for just that moment he was distracted, pleased with his shitty handiwork, and it was all the distraction I needed for Ray motherfucking Toro to nail a very hard elbow to the face. There was a crack that was like music to my ears, a screaming growl of pain and I laughed at him so brightly. All the trees danced and shook with me, as I clutched my bleeding chest in agony, in ecstasy, laughing and laughing and laughing as the shitty troop of them retreated.
They would never, never, never fucking touch April. I would tear down the Devil's throat to make sure of it.
"Gee, Frank's gone. Took off -- he was hurt."
My laughter died down abruptly and I groaned instead, long and loud and irritated. A little bi-polar, but nothing they weren't used to. Mikey was brushing off his clothes awkwardly, Ray was frowning. We were all a little worried. Frank had gotten hurt; he was the youngest and always flipped shit when a fight was coming up. He was hasty and overconfident.
He'd be fine, though. Probably just went away to lick his wounds.
Blood trickled over my fingers, and I stood up with aches running through my whole torso, walking back in the direction of home. Home; I cracked a sick smile. I'd never used that word before, I just referred to it as the manor, the mansion, the house.
Maybe I just meant April. And that was what hurt the fucking worst.
---
April's POV!
---
The house was clean.
The house was empty.
With nothing to do, I suddenly felt like one of them -- or at least, Bob Bryar. In a long moment of silence, strangely, Bob spoke up in a far-away voice. He was looking up at the ceiling and the cobwebs I couldn't reach, probably watching tiny spiders spinning out of bounds from my sight. Distracted. Thoughtful.
"Sometimes I think I feel the earth move," he said sort of to himself, but loud enough so I could hear. "I feel time, going by me. Like I'm there, but it won't bother with me. Like I'm just existing as a mirror, just a reflection of everything else going on."
And right now, my eyes glazed like old strained glass window, I looked out languidly at the walls and their fading paint and disentegrating wallpaper. In a rush of light, airy serotonin, my mind faded off into thoughts of wearing old clothes and working hard to tear off the old wallpaper and repaint everything, to really scrub down the whole place and give it a lively charm back, make it seem like home. And maybe there'd be a gold ring on my ring finger and Gerard would argue with me about colours but eventually compromise and we'd have lunch together and it was then, with these thoughts, that I realized where I was going with this and smiled for no reason (not even genuinely) and shook my head a little. The world kind of shifted a little, like suddenly I was aware of the earth moving under me, as it had been the whole time.
"I think maybe I'll take a nap," I said suddenly, my voice lost-sounding. Bob's brow perked with concern, lips frowning a little.
"You okay?" he questioned.
"Just a little tired all of a sudden. Worrying drains a girl, yeah?"
"All right. Well, I'll walk you to your room..."
He and I turned together, and took a single step toward the staircase that led toward my room, when the front doors burst open like a monsoon and hellish screaming, shouting, filled every piece of the air. The doors smashed against the walls, clambering even louder, the giant bronze knocker rung piercingly, thickly, and the cold air came bursting in with it. Amidst the scene, tumbling in like a flustered, fitful bat -- bats -- were Gerard, Mikey, and Ray.
"GERARD, CALM DOWN, WILL YOU!?"
"You are acting like a fucking animal!"
"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"
Blood, blood, blood, blood, splattering gently everywhere. Ray was furiously trying to restrain Gerard, as was Mikey -- each of them had an arm and seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Encompassing the scene was hard, and when I finally did, I felt nauseous and tearful.
Gerard Way had a very prominant, gaping gash in his chest, and his black t-shirt was shredded from it, wet-looking. He definitely wasn't bleeding like a normal person -- it seemed syrupy and gunky. And he was in immense pain from the way he clawed and fought and yelled.
Mikey managed to kick a door closed with his foot, and Bob hastily shut the other, locking it behind him before trying to help restrain/calm Gerard.
And I stood there.
There was a constant, thick trickle of thoughts that I found hard to register. How did he get hurt? Why was he so out of control? Where was Frankie? Would he be okay? Would he even recognise me? My knees wobbled a little and I felt my expression fall to the ground and I couldn't do anything but stare.
"Gerard, you need to fucking calm down, thrashing isn't fucking helping ANYONE," Bob snapped at him, firmly holding him by the shoulders. Mikey seemed to be struggling and Ray was looking more irritated by the second.
Gerard, though, oh how he snarled and screeched and raged like a trapped lion. His posture was feral, his fangs eye-catching and eyes a muddy shade of red swamp. His hands were held in a claw-link shape, and he fought harder. I took a step back, instinctively protecting myself with my arms held in front of me, trying to make myself small.
My movement caught his attention. His eyes found mine. He stopped moving.
He screamed again, and this time I felt the earth shake, and something like deja vu came over me, and Mikey and Ray and Bob were suddenly all shoved back and Gerard was a faint blur, going up a staircase.
("doyourememberbackwhenwemetyoutoldmethisgetsharder.")
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote the first half a couple days ago, and then the other half tonight, and golly can you tell the difference in my writing style xDD GODDAMNIT.Also, you editor people need to check my story already! ): Meanwhile, I will bestow all of my love upon my most gorgeous angels of readers. I hope you enjoooooyed? :]