Teeth

"Ah, of course."

A heavy silence fell into the icy night as I stood quietly on the shadowed sidewalk, Gerard watching me coolly as I contemplated this new information.

"Okay," I said finally. "What the fuck is with all these dead things?!"

Gerard sighed, but I didn't see any fog stain the all-consuming black of night. "I have to go now," he stated finally, his head shifting so light finally reached his eyes. "And Frank?"

"What?"

"Don't try to kill that cat."

"But...what do I do?" I asked frustratedly, taking a step forward.

He stepped back. "I can't help you..."

Gerard turned suddenly, and stepped into the streets. I watched without a word as he crossed the street swiftly, deftly avoiding the shining puddles on the asphalt that reflected the moon.

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"Hey."

I turned to see Quinn, his blue eyes bright and a complete contrast to the muggy gray New Jersey day. I was almost swaying on the spot outside his house, where I had been waiting for him to walk with me to school.

"Hey," I responded slowly, exhaustion dragging at my thoughts.

"Ah shit," he said, peering in to look at my face, "not again."

I nodded slowly, knowing full well how haggard I looked.

"Dude, why are you going to school?" He asked, looking at me in confusion. "It looks like you haven't slept in weeks."

"2 days," I corrected, "but I get where you're coming from."

"Well that settles it. We're skipping school," he said determinedly, clapping his hands as if to close a book on things.

I rubbed one of my eyes, my fingers coming away smeared with eyeliner. "Where would we go? I'm not exactly in the mood for an adventure."

Quinn snorted. "Obviously. Let's just go to The House."

"For seven hours?" I asked skeptically, shifting my messenger bag to my other shoulder.

"We'll get coffee afterwords, and then go to the park," Quinn exclaimed, weaving our days activity off the top of his head.

I rolled my eyes. "Let's go then," I said reluctantly, wondering if I could catch a quick nap on the roof of The House.

"Awesome," Quinn beamed, already taking hold of my hand and dragging me towards our place.

I sighed and flipped up my hood with my other hand, shivering slightly in the solid cold. There wasn't even a breeze out today, just a frozen stillness not unlike the inside of a fridge. A few other people trudged along the sidewalks on their morning commute, their faces buried under layers of fabric. Walking ,over-dressed mannequins.

We walked in silence down the familiar streets, both of us unconsciously hunched against the cold. My hands were so numb, it took me a couple minutes to realize that Quinn was still holding my hand. I blushed slightly, embarrassed, and wondered if I should shake him off or just leave it.

This is awkward as fuck, I thought, having a silent war over what to do. My exhausted mind finally shut down and left me shuffling along Quinn, playing make-believe that I had no idea he was still holding my hand.

The sullen looking house finally came into view, and I let out a sigh of relief. We crunched over the frozen lawn, grass snapping like glass underfoot.

"Want to climb up first?" Quinn asked as we reached the side of the house, finally breaking the silence that had cloaked us throughout our walk.

I nodded, and let go of his hand with a slight sigh of relief. I adjusted my messenger bag so it was around my neck, and grabbed ahold of one of the ivy trellises. Yellowed paint cracked off under my grip, and the ancient wood creaked underfoot as I began my ascent. There were plenty of snapped pieces of wood on my way up from past climbs, and I avoided them cautiously.

As always, hoisting myself up onto the steep second story roof was gut wrenching, and I bit my lip and sank my nails into the crooked shingles nervously. Behind me, I could hear Quinn following, and I began to crawl up on my hands and knees towards the chimney.

Quinn was soon next to me where I was leaning against the chimney.

"Refreshing as always," Quinn stated, smiling as we both took a seat on the rough surface of the roof.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure." I yawned and leaned my head against the brick of the chimney. "Maybe if I was more awake..."

He laughed, leaning back on the roof contentedly. "You could probably sleep up here-- if it wasn't so ridiculously cold."

"I could sleep in a blizzard right now." I looked off into the street, the cracked asphalt from many freezes cupping pools of water that reflected the flat gray of the sky. My mind flashed back to the night before, watching Gerard advance into the night with the puddles of silver gleaming in the black like eyes.

Quinn suddenly cleared his throat, and I was snapped out of my reverie.

"Damn... I almost forgot." He fidgeted with the hem of his 'The Pixies' shirt, gnawing at his lip.

I yawned again, this time feeling my jaw pop. I winced, but managed to ask, "What's up?"

"Umm." He cleared his throat again, and picked at the roof. "Do you remember... fuck... wait, do you... UGH," he groaned, looking pained. "I don't know how to put this... if I had any idea what you-- it would make it so much easier..."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Since when was Quinn at a lose for words?

He hugged his legs to his chest, his chin resting on his knees. His blue eyes were cast down to watch his torn Vans shuffle nervously on the roof.

I waited patiently for him to choke out whatever was chewing at his thoughts, wondering mildly what could be wrong.

"Do you remember," Quinn asked quietly, "when you said you liked Mark? In the seventh grade?"

Oh god, Mark. He was what made me realize I was bi... and I confided my feelings to Quinn one night when he slept over. He helped advise me through it.... There's no way Quinn...?

I noticed with some horror that he was blushing, and a creeping suspicion began to nudge at the back of my mind. I pushed it away and said cautiously, "Well... I said I was confused..."

"About liking him?"

"Well yeah, but--"

"So do you think you could be, you know, g-- who the fuck is that?!" Quinn leaped to his feet, his eyes fixed behind me. I jumped up, my heart pounding from the sudden outburst.

"What are you...?" I trailed off, my eyes not believing what they were seeing.

A little girl was standing perilously close to the edge of the roof, her eyes fixed on me. She was dressed in what looked like a funeral dress made of frilly black lace and black cloth. The ends of her dress were soiled, the lace there slightly tattered and abused. The girl herself was incredibly thin, and she was obscenely pale, her face as smooth and white as bone. The eyes fixed on me were such a pale blue it made her seem blind, and her hair was as white as her flesh, falling down her back and winding through her fingers.

And... she was floating... her black slippers inches off the balding shingles of the roof.

"Rosaline..." I murmured, understanding without really knowing how.

Her hands were outstretched, her forearms laced with pale blue veins. Without a word, slips of paper began to flutter out of her hands, catching the icy breeze and drifting like shredded doves. Notes... covered in tall thin script...

Silence followed, and the paper skittered over the shingles by my feet.

"Frank? What the fuck is with this paper? ...Frank?!" Quinn's confused voice rang out next to me, but I was phasing into that girl's eyes... losing my connection with my surroundings.

Her face was blank as she said, "You know my name."

I swayed slightly, my eyes finding rainbow hues in the wind.

"Frank?" Quinn's concerned voice warbled through this... thick air. Heavy... "What's wrong? Are you going to black out?"

Rosaline glided forward, several feet from me. She smelled like lilies and graveyard soil. The rainbows wavered in front of my eyes, but I could see her pale eyes inquiring me. "The cat, Franklin, where's my cat?"

I stepped backwards, my thoughts fluttering like trapped hummingbirds in my skull, and tried to pull myself out of her eyes. I stepped back again, and it was as if it was in slow motion. I could dimly feel my heel catching on a loose shingle, and my weight shifting backwards.

Rosaline's eyes widened, and her pale white plastic fingers stretched out to me and brushed my face before I tumbled backwards. The slow motion vanished, and suddenly it was all too fast. I could hear the air rushing around me as skin was ground against shingles, and then I was in free fall.

FUCK, I managed to think, before I crashed onto the frozen earth below.

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I jerked awake, my eyes flashing open to be blinded by the brilliant white of the...

Ah, fuck.

...hospital room.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, attempting to survey the room. I was alone in a small room, a gray metal chair was folded and leaning against the wall, and a blank television lofted on the wall reflected my pale face. I tried to examine myself further in this newly found black mirror, but that other self was so far away and swathed in so much white I couldn't make out any details.

I can't believe no one's here... I thought, my heart churning with sadness. The chair isn't even unfolded. I've been deluding myself. I'm the gray matter under people's shoes, the dimmest and most forgotten of all colors... I'm nothing.

I sighed, depressing myself in a hospital probably wasn't the best thing to do.

Hospital...the fall.

The memories flashed back beneath the surface of my eyes, a television in the depths of my brain relayed for me to see. "I fell two stories, but I don't even feel that bad," I muttered to myself wonderingly, flexing a skinned hand. "Must be drugs..."

"--Sir, we need your name. It's hospital policy-- you can't just bring in two teenagers and leave--" A woman's voice was speaking rapidly in the hall, and there was the sound of heels clicking over linoleum as she followed whoever she was speaking to.

My eyes widened, and I strained harder to hear.

"Hey, I told you already. I want to stay anonymous," snapped a voice, and my eyes expanded to inhuman proportions.

No fucking way.

"We cannot honor that request!" Argued the woman. The clicking of heels stopped right outside my door. "You can be sent to prison for disregarding the wishes of this hospital!"

The voice snickered. "You can only send me to prison if you catch me, and I haven't given you my name," they said smugly, and I heard the woman gasp angrily.

"The nerve! I know what you look like don't I? I can describe you from head to toe to the police!" I heard the rattle of someone putting their hand on the door knob to my room. "Either you leave your name and address, or you stay here until one of these young men wake up and tell their parts of the story."

The door swung open and the woman speaker clicked in, sending a death glare to... Gerard.

Gerard's dark eyes widened when he saw I was awake, then narrowed.

"Looks like I'm almost out of here," he stated darkly, watching me coldly.

He looked deathly pale under the harsh hospital lights, and he was clothed completely in black like usual. His umbrella was leaned casually against one leg, and his greasy black strands of hair helped disguise dark shadows under his eyes.

I pushed myself all the way into a sitting position, grimacing slightly when I felt a new pain tear down my side to my back. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I managed to ask, trying not to labor my breathing from the pain.

Gerard's eyes flashed, and he folded his arms across his chest defiantly. "I brought your sorry ass and your chicken shit friend here so you wouldn't litter the lawn at that old house," he growled. "Starting to regret it, now that I have to go through all this shit." He shot an angry look at the nurse, who was now checking my vitals.

I frowned. "Quinn's here?"

The nurse answered for me. "Yes, your friend passed out. This boy here brought both of you to the emergency room."

Gerard snorted. "Don't make it sound like such a huge fucking deal. Like I said, I was just scraping some of the scum off of Jersey."

"It's strange though..." the nurse commented thoughtfully, "that you fell off the second floor and only got a few severe scrapes."

Gerard looked away, and glared at the TV perched in the corner of the room.

"Well," she said to me, "you probably need to stay the night so we can make sure this doesn't get infected, but you should consider yourself extremely lucky. Most people would have died."

I clenched the sheets in my fists, glaring at the thin white blanket covering me.

"I'm going to grab some forms for you to fill out. I'll be right back." She clicked towards the door, then turned. "You," she snapped, pointing at Gerard, "don't leave or I'm calling the cops."

She stepped out the door and was swallowed up by the hallway.

There was a pregnant pause.

"Well," Gerard said curtly, "now she's just being a bitch."

I stayed silent, and Gerard stomped over and unfolded the chair in the corner and took a seat.

I pulled back the blanket and sheet, and lifted up my shirt to examine my injuries. Gauze and cloth were wrapped around my entire middle and back, so I couldn't really see the full extent of my wounds.

I turned to look at Gerard, who was a dark angry shadow looming in the corner.

"Did Rosaline save me?" I asked quietly, remembering her pale outstretched fingers brushing my face. And then...

"No," Gerard answered bluntly, sinking far down into the chair and spreading his legs out.

I fell back onto my pillow, tired of stretching my wounds. I turned my face to look at him. "What really happened? I think I... remember..." I trailed off, trying to shake the vision in my head. "I'm not stupid okay? I would have some hardcore bruises if I fell, or something. These scrapes are from rolling down the roof. I don't remember actually hitting the ground..."

Gerard's eyes locked on mine, the dark color hypnotizing. "What are you implying?"

I shook my head. "I'm not sure."

He looked away, his face twisted with irritation. "Aren't you on drugs or something? Just pass the fuck out already."

I rolled my eyes, wanting more than anything then to do just that. "I can't..."

"Hmmf," he grunted, pressing himself further into the corner.

Something was nagging at me, fluttering in my conscious then slipping into nothing. Rosaline... that little eerie girl. She was dead, as unbelievable as that is, but she was different than her zombie cat. She was... a ghost? No, she touched me... She touched me!

I snatched up the fluttering memory, and squeezed the images back into the television hidden behind my eyes. It played in flashes, and I remembered...

When her fingers brushed my face, I had felt that tingly electrical sensation, all the way back into the hollows of my eye sockets. That feeling that felt like my blood was bubbling beneath my skin. That feeling I got when Gerard touched me.

I shot up in bed, crying out at the sudden pain, and looked at Gerard with wide eyes. "What the fuck?!" I exclaimed, and he straightened in his chair looking uneasy.

"What?" He snapped, his dark eyes boring into me.

I shook my head and layed back down, my heart pounding. "Nothing... it's just... the pain." I turned on my side and faced the opposite wall, chewing my lip nervously.

There's no way.. it's impossible...

Gerard snorted, and I could hear his spiked belt scrape on the metal chair as he slid back down. "Pansy."

I didn't answer. Instead, I stared at the wall and tried to feign sleep.

Dimly, in the back of my mind, I heard the nurse enter and make a comment about me being asleep, and then leave with Gerard following her.

I continued to stare at the wall, my memories like sewing needles as they poked and prodded painfully at my mind, swiftly knitting together visions I would like to forget.