The Angels Priest ( Frerard Fanfic )

Introduction

8:00

" Brother... Somethings wrong..."

" Wrong..? Wrong how?"

" I sense something... It's greater than us... It's been rising and falling, rising and falling, and now I believe it has crashed..."

" A spirit? We both know how sick you feel after you sense a spirit being cast out from Heaven. It unsettles your stomach and leaves you hungry... Have you eaten today brother?"

" No, no... It's something more than a spirit. It's something that leaves me weak in the knees. Like I could feel it falling... An Angel perhaps. A fallen Angel."

" An Angel?.. Don't be ridiculous Gerard. God is not dumb enough to cast his own Angel down to earth, and you've never been spiritually strong enough to reach immortal beings"

" I am a Priest Mikey. Spiritually I am capable of anything God allows me to be capable of..." I hum, tracing the dark figure that stood slanted into the crease of a corner.

I could feel the Judging eyes tracing back at me; glaring at me with such a heavy weight of misunderstanding, disbelief, and an angry passion for driving me insane.

" You Gerard, are no priest. God has granted you enough for practically faking a man of high honor ."

"And you, Mikey, are any different than I?" I hiss back. The words snaked through my jaws as I kept my teeth tightly clenched.

I could see his gaze fall back to the floor. Though, a look of guilt never crossed his face as it had mine.

" I brother, am simply a man of the church. It was you who messed with the Devil, and you who searched for redemption. It was I who took to religion... And you who begged for gods mercy."

He would draw his finger to his lip, slightly pursing them as he reached for the tip of his canine. Gently he would brush the jagged tooth back in forth, in a light but effective scrape. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach; everything inside me began to bend and churn with the motion. I would let out a groan behind my snared bite.

" Brother-" I moan, my tongue pressing the back of my teeth " I-I do not-... Lie"

behind my choking sobs, I could feel him let up as he dropped his hand back to his side.

The pain subsided, and I was able to unwind my arms from around my pelvis as a moment of relief washed over me. My limbs were now weaker than before, the sudden tranquility left me stumbling to my knees.

" what are you thinking Gerard?" Mikey would hiss, lighting a cigarette with one of the crimson candles that had been the only source of light for the church sanctuary.

" I think you're a Jack Ass for lighting a cigarette in God's house!" I'd snap back in response.

He'd chuckle behind an exhale of dull smoke, as he'd lower the cigarette away from his mouth. " ah Gerard. A priest doesn't use that kinda language now does he?" He'd glide his arm to one of the red velvet pews, ever so slightly pushing away the fiber and putting out the cigarette on the back of the seating.

I could feel the red flame against my cheek as it flickered out from the tiny white and brown rapping. Its burn was strong and piercing, as I could feel it smolder into my skin. It was a pain I was used to... Sinners tended to neglect the church, as had I. Countless times I would feel the cigarette burns. On my cheeks, my hands, and my arms. Even those put out in the potted plants outside would leave a red burn mark somewhere on my skin.

Conscious of a pain I had once caused myself, tears hardly brimmed my eyes.

I would glare at him. My back arched as he shifted away the fiery remains of what was his smoke.

He'd smooth his jacket, tossing the remains of his relaxer onto the golden brown wood of the church floor, and trace a tall candle with his thumb exhaling towards the exit.

" Brother, I know this game you play... If you think I don't feel this thing too, then you are mistaken. but drinking the blood of God's man will only draw out your thirst for a little while... You'll want more... If you want to be more like God, stop trying to find reasons for him to hate you... " 

~~10:30 [Same night]~ 

I faced myself in a cracked glass mirror, holding back hours of rage and anger behind my tear ducts. My eyes would follow the figure that reflected at me menacingly.

" Priests don't cry Gerard, p-priests don't cry..." My voice was shaky; hidden behind the velvet rasp were quiet sobs.

I told myself that on repeat; trying to let the events of that night fade away with my simple cry. I could feel the salted tears as they slipped over the cigarette burn. I would gently pat it with a wet cloth to try and ease the pain.

One dab, two dabs, three- and in a moment all hell had broken loose. Raging towards my reflection with a clenched fist, I'd bust the glass of the mirror in an angry cry. I'd watch the pieces fall. the loud shatter had gone unnoticed.

Glass mixing in with the skin of my hand, I'd draw back now in a yell of pain as I realized it had cut my flesh.

The crimson on my knuckles was now bleeding into the white of my sleeve cuffs. My hand began to shake. I'd fall back into the wall, sliding downward till I had curled myself up in the floor. Tears now fell briskly down my cheeks, and my mouth gaped open as I hiccuped up a cry. My teeth chattering, my mind has gone, I'd sit there and swallow the pain...  I would cry till I couldn't any longer.