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Thank You For The VenomFrank woke up and groaned, blinking bleakly at the world through sleep blurred eyes. His tongue was a horrible thick carpet laying in his mouth and his limbs shrieked in protest as he moved them in that awkward way that waking from a deep restless sleep forced.
Grimacing he tried and failed to remember arriving back at his apartment, to his bed. He glanced over to his clock radio and winced, 2.42pm glowed sinisterly from it. He stared at it, at its nauseating green numbers, until he finally noticed the small book of matches resting nonchalantly on top. Frank reached over to retrieve them with numbness running over him, the dullness of someone that had only just arrived back into the world.
He opened the book dumbfounded and revealed a scrawled set of letters that spelled out an unsteady 'thank you' on the card above the missing row of matches, each had been snapped off and long since used.
'It... Must be important,' Frank thought hazily, turning the book around in his fingers. 'I mean.
EyesHave you ever felt eyes burning into the back of your head? Eyes penetrating skin, muscle, bone; piercing so tangibly your soul?
Hes felt eyes trace; and yearn; and beg to touch.
Hes felt them skimming down the exposed skin of his neck. Place imaginary kisses along that arch; down pale arc of milky white. Eyes that ask to lavish lips on and around his jaw, a shapely cheek. Place hands on slender shoulders and impart the lightest of holds.
Hes felt eyes creating ghost hands to trace down the tops of arms, allow themselves to wander to chest.
Felt those eyes that imagine the sight of his body shivering in response. The eyes of one that can only dream of how wonderful that might feel.
Those eyes relish the lingering gaze that Gerard feels so strongly. And he knows that he is the object of desires unspoken but with every part of their being felt.
On stage he feels them. Drowning out, even, the thousands in front.
They explore most wondrously the curve of his w
Heaven Help Us ::Part 7::Fighting every cell in his body, that fought and roared and tore against him, Frank pulled away from their kiss. Their sweetly intense kiss that clawed and pulled back and didn't want to let him go. Away from Gerard's fingers that couldn't stop their frantic searching across the fabric of Frank's jeans, fingers that would for moments curl despondently around his hips.
It should have been everything he wanted, but everything in this felt wrong, everything in this felt about roar physical need. And somehow Frank couldn't bring himself to have this end as just that once more. He couldn't stand to feel used by someone that meant so much to him, not again.
Finally free of Gerard's disconsolate lips Frank stayed panting uselessly against him, still with those fingers clutching him, his body unbearably close.
Frank registered the moment of panic and rejection that flashed in Gerard's eyes, the alarm as he snaked his arms up and around Frank's waist and pulled him desperately closer.
Heaven Help Us ::Part 2::***
Frank slammed his room key down on the battered bedside table, in his by now utterly sickening motel room.
He couldn't dispel the hopeless anger that picked its way through his mind and forced itself out in his every moment.
The image of Gerard's devastating hazel eyes emblazoned upon his mind was driving him mad, filling him helplessly with vitriol. Involuntarily his fists clenched; he felt truly as if this hurt and humiliation could eat him whole.
He wrenched open the squat mini-bar and scooped out the contents into his arms; dumping them onto the bed behind him. Foolishly he hoped that draining them would, in some infinitesimal way, help. At least it would be a distraction for some blissful moments, before the thoughts of reality again plagued his mind. And the idea brought some relief.
In the long run he knew he'd just be adding to his long list of appalling and relentless mistakes.
Just watch me fall. Came to his mind as he twisted off the first cap knowing full well it
Heaven Help Us ::Part 6::Frank slid off the ridiculously large earphones he had on and placed them down, on the desk in the claustrophobic booth at the radio station, with a huge sense of relief. He blew out a deep calming breath as he stood and shook the outthrust hand of the smiling host; before Gerard reached out confidently, nonchalantly, across Frank and offered his own. Frank gritted his teeth, bit back the anger rising within him.
'Arrogant jerk,' his mind snapped.
He just couldn't take the blasé attitude which Gerard could employ around him, the way he could brush his arm across Frank's shoulder and over his chest like everything was normal, like everything was okay. It said to Frank that to Gerard it was nothing to be around him.
Frank turned mutely on his heels and headed for the door, sensed Gerard's smiling figure behind him nodding to the station's DJ and following him out. He tried to swallow down his anger, felt it crack and splinter in his throat. Absorbed in his thoughts he simply
Heaven Help Us ::Part 1::Frank stumbled drunkenly down the corridor within the cheap motel he and his band mates had been staying in for the past few unwelcome nights.
A horrible little place. Dingy rooms that just silently scream 'I've been a murder scene'; whose wallpaper may or may not have been splattered in blood at one time but definitely now seemed to be fleeing down the walls as if genuinely trying to escape this hell hole. And honestly Frank didn't blame it. God knows what these rooms had seen over the years, every kind of vice sated, the seven deadly sins of man found and somehow surpassed. These kind of dilapidated places just feel like that don't they? Feel like a place a man can sink to the depths befitting the décor.
All Frank's room had witnessed since he'd arrived was him sinking with disgust and reluctance on to his staunch looking bed in drunken solitude. And now tonight he conceded ruefully that he was set to do the same.
As he made his way further and further into the decaying environment o
Accidents :Contest Entry:Gerard really didnt know what was worse the waiting or the waiting room. The intense agony of minutes passing like hours or the dull ache of sitting in that awful place. Painted walls in surgical green and bandage white. The stiff chairs that crippled and harmed, that made the sick sicker, the weak weaker. Disinfectant and disease hung in the air here and clung to the fabric of his lungs. This place choked the life out of you, reminded the dying that destiny was there, sprawled across the floor and flung upon the walls, ready and waiting.
When the call of Youre next sir, becomes a taunt you know youve been here too long.
Gerard turned his head to watch the man sitting behind him rise in response. That guy had definitely arrived after him.
He looked down at his hand; the blood soaked torn piece of shirt was still there tied neatly in place.
Maybe he was dying he told himself. Maybe, he thought, he was really ill. Gerards eyes followed the now condemne
I Never Told You...Have you ever loved someone so much, that you'd do anything for them? Anything conceivable in this world? Even kill for that person? Have you felt with vicious clarity the pain of not just having that person near? Have you felt these things? Because I have.
I've piled bodies a thousand high in the hope that I could reach up to him somehow and touch his face.
And I killed them all with relish Because each drop of blood, each lifeless, milky, glazed over eye and every pallid twisted corpse drained of life, brought me closer to being with him again.
Desperation can make you do awful things Unspeakable things. And I Well I did them all. I did them all gladly, because I did them with love in my mind.
So you can call me insane You can say that I'm evil. But I did everything for love And how could that be wrong?
And now he's standing next to me, and I can hear the drip drip drip of blood falling from my knife's edge and splashing elegantly to the tarmac below my
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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