Ascent » frerard

Manners Like A Child

I listened to New Year's Day as I wrote this cue the gothic breakdowns.

Also, that prose is really hard to keep up when normal shit is happening, so you might find that it's shifting a little bit, but not much. The idea was that it was written in that style, and I shall try my best to keep it like that, but when they're doing average things it's basically impossible.

Also super duper exciting stuff I've got a better name for this whole fanfic- I might change it so if it swaps suddenly don't delete it, it's still this.

Anyway yes here's more dark rambling shit enjoy.

Although he had never promised such a thing, Frank found it hard not to feel disappointed when Ray simply dropped him and Gerard off back at Frank's flat, with promises to go back to his own instead. True there would be no real reason for Ray to accompany Frank in his own home, especially since the reason he was even in this situation was down to his own reckless stupidity, and all the overwhelming guilt and fear was resting on his own slumping shoulders.  It was not intended to be malicious,  but Frank's chest seemed oddly weighted with a sense of annoyance, that Ray had left him with Gerard by himself.

Upon parting with Ray, however, Frank fought to conceal his feelings. He and Gerard left the car, stepping onto the again rain-sodden pathways of the dismal road that homed the apartment block. Gerard seemed newly alert, at least considerably more than earlier. Frank found it to have a detrimental effect on his mentality, because with the calming effect that usually radiated from the taller boy, Frank managed to see through the pale fog of the demons that hung in the street. Now, however, with Gerard's head turning from side to side as though he was expecting something to crawl from the shadows and attack him, Frank was finding it increasingly more difficult to stay calm. He did not let on to Ray that the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly and inexplicably standing straight in regiment lines. 

Ray seemed none the wiser to any of this badly-disguised terror, and pulled away from the pavement with a wave that was bordering on joviality. And so with the DNA test clutched in his sweating palm, and the jerkily awkward frame of Gerard at his side, Frank made his way through the broken side street, up to his block of flats.

He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't regarded that side street with anything other than disgust and horror. It smelled inexplicably of burning rubber, and had a quiet ticking sound coming from somewhere or other that meant the narrow, paved little road was nothing more than a manifestation of Frank's worst fears. The sharp end of the doorkey was cold and harsh against the pale skin between his fingers, the omnipresent pressing on his chest lightening considerably when the lobby door swam into view. Frank stuffed the key into the keyhole, twisting until his bones cracked under the exertion, and practically threw himself into the dimly lit lobby hallway, almost forgetting about the extension of his apparent shadow, and locking Gerard outside in the cold.

The one thing on his mind as he watched the grille doors sliding shut in front of his tired eyes was to calm his breathing. It was ragged, and echoed remarkably unpleasantly around the elevator. It wasn't as though Gerard particularly noticed, nor cared, but Frank was persevering with the idea of keeping a normal enough atmosphere. That was particularly difficult to achieve when he was perpetually in terror of being lured into insanity, or worse, by the plaguing entities that he was certain loomed just outside the thin windows. His imagination was not good enough to explain the knocking of the cold winter nights that gave only to the reasoning that there was something, or someone out there. The fact that he had become lumbered with an unnervingly silent boy who was surely the key to something huge, and awful, and doubtless damaging.