A Bullet Through A Flock Of Doves

Twenty Seven - You're A Heart Attack In Black Hair Dye

Frank woke up with a weird taste in his mouth, and when he remembered what exactly it was, he made a choked noise and sat up in the bed, looking to his side.

Gerard wasn't there, as usual - but the bathroom light was on, mixing with the early morning sunshine. And there was a sound, too, a sound Frank didn't register at first, but when he did he scrambled out of bed with a quickness unusual for him so early in the morning. It was the buzz of hair clippers.

He threw open the bathroom door and Gerard almost dropped said clippers, swiveling to look at him and glaring with dark eyes. "Fucking hell, Frank, almost made me cut off my head, Jesus Christ."

Frank narrowed his eyes in return. "I don't think that's even possible, firstly, and secondly, what are you doing to yourhair?"

Gerard huffed. "Cutting it. Or I was, before you interrupted me."

"But i>why?" Frank was confused. When he had gotten his haircut, it was because they were running from the government. What was happening now?

Gerard seemed to hesitate, biting his lip at Frank and then looking down at the sink, where bits and pieces of his hair were scattered. Then, he looked back up at him and said, "The government...that agent, Bryar...he's tracking us. He found us, or, well, he's about to."

Frank braced himself on the doorframe. "Fuck." He paused. "How did he find us?"

Gerard sighed. "One of the fucking neighbors of that house. They saw us going back to the car-"

"You mean me dragging you back to the car."

Gerard ignored him. "Well, she was alarmed by how much I was bleeding and so she mentioned me to the cops. The descriptions matched and now the feds are after us yet again."

"Fucking awesome," Frank replied, slumping a little. "So, what now? Disguises? Hiding? Fake identities? Help from your not so secret organization?"

Gerard stiffened at the last question, but recovered smoothly. "Yes. Although, no help from them...we've been warned of spies and it would be all too easy for the feds to find both us and the Knights."

"So we're on our own."

Gerard nodded. "But it's alright. I have some of my own tricks, from...well, that was a while ago. But it'll be fine."

Frank nodded. "So, back to your hair."

Gerard chuckled, continuing to cut it. It was shorter than before, for sure, no longer touching his shoulders, but it wasn't a buzzcut or anything, thank god. "I'm keeping most of it, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"And what's going to happen to my pretty little head? You gonna cut it off with hair clippers, too?" Frank was joking, but the expression on Gerard's face made him look like Frank's words were a physical blow. His features were composed the next second, but Frank saw, and Frank was confused. He didn't question it, though, because maybe Gerard was just in a weird sort of mood, which wasn't uncommon.

"No," Gerard said, putting down the clippers and fluffing his hair with his fingers. It looked really fucking soft. "I'm just going to dye it."

"What c-"

"Black."

"You staying black haired, too?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow. Gerard had finished preening and turned to him. His hair sort of stuck up instead of flowed down now, mussed from his fingers and making him look more than a little deranged, which he was. But it was also kind of cute, in a weird way. If Gerard could ever be cute.

Gerard snorted. "Yeah. What other color would you suggest?"

Frank wrinkled his nose in thought. "Um...red maybe?"

"Red?" Gerard asked, looking highly skeptical. "Do you want them to be able to pick me out of a crowd with ease?"

"Right," Frank said, feeling dumb. "What about brown?"

Gerard shook his head. "That's what it is naturally. Boring."

"Huh," Frank said, reaching out and touching Gerard's hair before he could stop himself. "I'm naturally brunette, too."

"I know," Gerard said, rolling his eyes, "I saw you before I dyed your hair."

"Right," Frank said, feeling dumb again. "But my point is, it's not boring."

"Black is sexy," Gerard told him.

"Brown can be sexy too," Frank snapped. "You certainly thought so."

"Now you're just being vain."

"And you're not?"

"Point taken."

"Your hair is soft."

"And you're naked. Frank, get some clothes on."

"Why? Don't you like what you-"

"Frank."

"Yeah, okay."

xoxoxo

An hour later, Frank was dressed and his hair was newly dyed and trimmed so that the fauxhawk was less present, just a sort of short, spiky black hairstyle with side-bangs. Gerard had experimented with his own hair and ended up with a sightly gelled but still fluffy hairstyle which, if Frank was being honest with himself, made him look dorky but also hot. Sort of like a hot teacher, maybe, and then that had Frank's mind in too many unsavory places for him to concentrate.

They were driving down to the car rental place, after Gerard had disposed of his cell phone (they could track us from it), writing down all the important numbers first. Gerard had a strange nervousness about him which honestly concerned Frank a little - Gerard was never this paranoid and twitchy, and every time Frank tried to distract him with a kiss or something, Gerard just pushed him away, biting his lip hard and furrowing his brow.

They drove up the dealership and Frank walked into the air conditioned building with the brooding Gerard, hiking up the collar of his hoodie and seeing Gerard do the same with his leather jacket. From this point, it looked like his hair was a nest of black thorns growing from the black of the jacket, like some kind of exotic plant.

They approached the woman at the front desk, more of a girl, really. She had thick, frizzy auburn hair tied back in an unruly bun (it also looked like a plant, Frank thought, maybe a tropical flower) and large blue eyes which regarded them nervously. How old was she - fifteen, sixteen? Frank didn't know, but what he did know was that she didn't deserve the tough time Gerard was giving her.

"No, I said the most popularly rented car you have! What do you not understand about that?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir, this is my first day on the job and I-"

"I don't care! Now, do you know it, or not?"

"S-sir-"

"Stop," Frank said to him, putting a hand on Gerard's tense arm and giving him a look, then turning to the girl. "I'm so sorry. He's just having a bad day. What's your name?"

"E-Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth."

"Well, Elizabeth, can you tell us what most of your customers rent here? Nothing fancy, just a standard, common car."

She licked her lips anxiously. "Um...well, many of our customers rent the 2010 Chevy Impala."

"Thank you!" Frank said, smiling at her and non-verbally telling Gerard, I told you so.

"Of course," Elizabeth said, looking relieved and even giving him a shy smile in return.

xoxoxo

"I could've talked to her, you know," Gerard said sulkily, putting the key into the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Yeah, right, and probably eventually pulled a gun on her," Frank scoffed, sliding down in the seat and wincing at the sticky feeling of the fabric. "I hate this car."

"Don't worry," Gerard told him, "we're getting a new one when we get to Vegas."

Frank started. "Wait...what?"

"Yeah, you heard me. We're going to Las Vegas!"

"Why?"

Gerard looked annoyed. "Because we can? And come on, what's a better place for people like us to hide than Las Vegas?"

"New York City?" Frank suggested. "The middle of Africa? The North Pole? Siberia?"

Gerard sighed. "True," he said, "but you can have a lot more fun in Vegas."

Frank blinked at him, the corners of his lips curling upwards a little. "By fun," he asked, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Oh, I mean fun," Gerard told him, eyes dark and treacherous. "Very fun."

"Hm," Frank said, closing his eyes and humming to himself. "New cars, Las Vegas, and fun...I like the sound of that."