I Believe We're The Enemy

Whatsername’s P.O.V.

My nose crinkles automatically as the redhead emerges from under his bed (how had he managed to fit his big ass under there anyway?) with a wad of paper and a ballpoint pen. I despise writing. Music is great, sure, and words are just fine, but on paper they’re useless. Only in the air do they actually come to life. However, these boys don’t seem like the sharpest knives in the drawer, and while their mildly demonic chicks are a bit better (though I can’t quite tell which boy the short one is dating), none of them would get my finely-toned barrage of gestures. Paper is my only choice.

“Here you go,” Redhead says kindly as he hands me my newest form of communication. I give him a pointed glare in response, which he takes as gratitude and walks away. Green-eyes, who has been watching me all morning, finally works up the courage to sit down on the sofa next to me.

“Hi, Whatsername,” he chirps amiably, his broad grin lighting up his petit face. Even I have to admit that he’s cute.

Hello Green-eyes, I write.

“Green-eyes?”

I don’t do names. I don’t need one, you don’t need one, nobody needs one. When you can’t speak, having yet another useless word to describe a person does you no good.

“So that’s why you’re called Whatsername?” he queries. This boy is definitely too curious.

Among other reasons.

“Oh. I figure I shouldn’t ask. Most girls are pretty protective of their histories.”

I chuckle. You’re pretty cute, green-eyes.

He flips his hair tauntingly. “I know. Why do you think Gerard loves me so much?”

You’re single. He snorts.

“Yeah, definitely more single than the girls around here.”

Don’t mean to sound ignorant, but who’s the short girls dating? She’s a bit of a flirt...

“Ginny?” he laughs softly. “She’s Ray’s lovebird. Curly hair.”

Ah. Frokid. That would explain why they just started making out.

Green-eyes rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Yeah... They’re pretty, uh, close.” He looks rather displeased with this fact, which surprises me; I got the impression that he was a very carefree person.

You like her.

His face pales and he lowers his voice cautiously. “Y-yeah, I... I’m mostly over it, but I did. She’s really nice, and, well, she can be a bit of a flirt at times. I never thought I’d have a chance with her, ‘cause Ray kinda fell in love with her at first sight, but I always liked her.”

If I trusted him, I might’ve hugged him, but I don’t. Love is stupid, green-eyes. It’s never real, and it always leaves you broken up. And, usually, without words. His eyes widen.

“Your throat... That wasn’t just a random drac fight,was it?”

Death rains from my gaze. That’s none of your business. Fuck o

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” he interjects, stopping me. “I know that doesn’t concern me, and I don’t want to make you hate me from square one. I-”

My scribbling cuts him off. Well, you’re being one hell of a flirt. That won’t help you here.

He chuckles under his breath. “Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to love. Plus, even if I was idiotic enough to keep trying, I’d probably be going for the one whose face isn’t a permanent death glare.”

For some reason, I almost find myself laughing. Thanks, green-eyes. I could use a trustworthy male friend.

I watch tensely as he gives me a kind, understanding grin. “I would be delighted to oblige.”

Before I even realize what’s going on, I’m smiling, my dried-up lips slowly stretching apart to reveal a set of yellow-white teeth and the useless mouth beyond. The gesture almost hurts; I haven’t flashed my pearly whites for months, even when I’m laughing, but right now it feels so right and redeeming that I let it happen. Some sort of primitive hormone rush is triggered by this action, and I suddenly feel so happy it terrifies me.

Green-eyes’ face morphs from content to utter amazement. “Whatsername, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, his brilliant, twinkling eyes wide. His fingers reach out and unwrap the scarf from my around neck, revealing the furious scars crisscrossing my throat. My hands fly to the wounds, attempting to hide them, but he pulls them away.

What the hell are you doing?

“I wanted to see the scars,” he says simply. “And you look so beautiful without the scarf hiding your face.”

I scrutinize him cautiously. What’s your name again?

“Frank,” he replies. “Gee and Mikey call me Frankie most of the time.”

And they are...?

“Red hair is Gerard, blond is Mikey.”

Oh. Thanks.

“So, what are those signs you use to talk to Inferno?” he asks, changing the subject. “They’re not real sign language, right?”

I shake my head. Just gestures, basically. I’ve been signing for so long that I’ve figured out how to get just about any point across. Like, by mixing a heart with other things, I can say I love, you love, they’re in love, I don’t love, I love you, etc. My face flushes a bit as I write I love you; those words are pure poison in my heart.

“Oh. That’s cool. How long did it take for you and Last Inferno to get so good at deciphering stuff?”

She’s my best friend, we understand each other pretty well. But it took a while to get everything sorted out. To be honest, at first, I was a wreck without my voice. I almost tried to kill myself a couple times because I felt so useless.

Frank hugs me, rubbing my back gently when I tense up. “Gee and I would both do the same thing, if it weren’t for each other. Sometimes I think that he’s the only thing keeping me alive at all.” His hands, flat and gentle against the small of my back, are shaking lightly. “Sometimes I know it.”

I let out a quiet shh to comfort him, which is about the extent of the noise I’m capable of making with my ruined vocal chords, and he hugs me harder, not blocking my hand as I reach for my scarf. When he finally leans away, he sends a soft, gentle glance in my direction before finding Gerard and engaging him in a bone-crushing hug. I don’t hear what he says, but I can distinctly make out his lips whispering ‘I love you.’

Being the incredibly kind person that he is, Gerard kisses Frank’s forehead and replies with a solid “I love you too.” Some little sarcastic voice in my head whispers aww, so sweet, and I don’t force it away. Fuck people. They’re not worth my time anyway.

Frank and Gerard strike up an amiable conversation with Inferno, and I watch as her shy habit of covering her mouth when speaking returns. The green highlights in her hair flash in the sunlight, nearly blinding me a few times. I’m incredibly envious of her naturally black hair; I try my best to cover up the platinum blonde that I’ve had since birth. With it comes a pale complexion (except for my blush-pink cheeks) and boring, ice-colored eyes. After the addition of black dye, I look like a surreal, note-quite-dead-not-quite-living ghost. I like myself that way, even though it brings only the most negative of attention. Thinking of all the scornful looks I’ve received from fashionista Killjoys and their absurdly attractive male partners, I almost feel thankful for Frank and Last Inferno.

Almost.

Ray’s P.O.V.

Despite the tough front she puts on at first, Last Inferno turns out to be an amazingly kind person. Ginny and Rose soon decide that she’s their new best friend, while Gerard continues to flirt with her in his subtle, Gerardly way as she animatedly tells us the story of the time she threw up all over Whatsername because they saw a dead coyote on the side of the road. Gerard, suddenly struck by inspiration, grabs a sheet of paper and a brown felt-tip marker and sketches a hilarious cartoon of an angry coyote, its tail bent in half as if it had been run over by a car, attacking a non-expectant drac. Inferno obviously loves the picture. Soon the two of them launch off into a conversation about art techniques, leaving the rest of us with nothing to do.

I sit down on the floor and kiss Ginny lightly on the cheek, watching her fondly as she collapses onto my lap with a soft giggle. Inside my chest that ferocious dragon called emotion rears its brilliant head and looms over her, threatening to envelop her completely. Every time we go on any type of mission that involves danger, it takes every fiver of self-control that I possess to do anything but worry about her. Watch out for her. Love her. She might not be everything to me, but she’s a lot, and there’s nothing that I relish more than her skin against mine, her words in my ears, her breath mingling with my own. I love her laughter, which thrives off of sunny days and Frank’s jokes and my susceptible skin cells. Her fingers reach up to ghost down of the side of my face, sending happy shivers down my spine and locking out hazel gazes together. I can’t look away from her now; she’s captured me, and I don’t ever want her to let me go.

“Your hair is growing back,” she murmurs, gazing humorously at the soft curls shooting from my head in every direction. In response, I smile and run my fingers through her own silky locks. The molten bronze flows fluidly over my flesh, and my hands soon reach the nape of her neck, where I rub slow circles into her intimate skin. She sighs softly and shuffles closer to me, pressing her cheek into my thigh.

“Can we just stay here forever?” I whisper, slouching enough to be able to place her head on my stomach. My words are only for her. “We don’t have to fight, we don’t have to hurt, we don’t have to die, we can just be here, together, and we can forget about everything else.”

She smiles up at me affectionately as my fingers flit teasingly across her hip. “I wish.”

“But we can,” I hiss. “We could just run away, just you and me, and we wouldn’t be Killjoys anymore, or warriors, or even zombies, we’d just be in love.”

“Ray, I love you, but that’s not possible and you know it.”

I give a frustrated huff. “I’m so sick of this. Of being a good guy. We don’t even know if that’s who we are. Sometimes I think good guys don’t even exist, and we’re all just evil. But I don’t think evil people fall in love. Do they?”

She nuzzles my stomach gently. “I don’t know. I don’t think you’re evil, though.”

“You’re not evil either,” I whisper, running one hand down the side of her face and letting it rest on the side of her neck. She shudders.

“Your hands are so warm,” she murmurs softly, rolling onto her back and drawing her knees up to her chest. I take one of her hands in my own, stroking her palm with gentle fingers. Emotion shines from her face as she sighs quietly and closes her eyes, obviously planning to fall asleep right here in my lap.

“Guys, I think Ginny’s about to keel over, and I’m feeling kinda sleepy myself, so we’re going to bed.” I receive several nods of acknowledgement, and I ignore Inferno’s scrutinizing gaze as I carry Ginny toward our room.

“Good night,” Rose calls softly.

“Night, Glory.”

My weary arms drop Ginny onto the bed, and I take off her shoes before removing my own. Then I climb into bed, pulling the covers over Ginny and I, and I kiss her lips softly before wrapping my arms around her and closing my exhausted eyes.

“Ray?” whispers Ginny, her voice tickling my skin.

“Yeah?”

“I would run away, if we could. I promise.” Her fingers dance along my collarbone lovingly as I plant another kiss on her tender mouth.

“I know,” I sigh. “So would I.”