Bodysnatcher

Sinners Never Sleep

“Jesus Christ.” Frank swears.

Gerard gives him a look, disappointed and sad, from the corner of his eye, but otherwise keeps his eyes on the road.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Frank.” he says, gripping the wheel tighter.

Frank lets his head rest against the cold glass, still bitter from the morning frost, to calm his skin. He’s on fire, he’s always in fire lately, orange flames licking and bighting at his fragile skin, sometimes Frank can’t take it, but the flames only grow when he’s weak.

“It’s not in vain,” Frank grumbles. “My head is killing me. Hath thaw Lord no mercy?”

Gerard’s knuckles turn white against the wheel, but he doesn’t push the matter. Frank is stubborn normally, but this early in the morning the twenty-six-year-old is a force not to be reckoned with.

Frank glares at Gerard across the car, as if it isn’t bad enough that he’s forcing Frank to church at dick o-clock in the morning, he has to be wearing that thing- the collar- like Frank needs any more reminding of just what Gerard is.

He knows he’s being bitter, pouting and scowling out of the window, but it’s Gerard’s fault. He’s like his mom, forcing him into his Sunday best at un godly hours then ferrying him across town to Our Lady, all whilst telling him to “Be grateful, Frankie.” 

The thing is, Frank is grateful. Gerard has given him house and home, hot showers and good food, he had taken Frank away from a life on the streets, and under his arm two years ago. And for that Frank will be forever grateful. But he is forever grateful to Gerard, not whoever is supposedly floating about in the sky.

See, it’s not even like Frank doesn’t believe in God, he’s open minded, he grew up a Catholic boy and he’s gets it, he gets it, people like something to believe in. It's just, If The G Man is so knowing and powerful then where the hell was he when Frank needed him? Too busy carving his sons face into toast, or creating tidal waves across the globe. 

Frank so doesn’t dig that.

“You got any Advil?” Frank asks after a moment.

The glass isn’t doing it anymore, isn’t cool enough to calm his raging flesh, burning deeper than most of his headaches. He can see flames behind his eyes, lapping up against his skull, pushing out or maybe breaking in He wants something stronger than Advil but Gerard’s hardly going allow that kind of relief. Not on a Sunday.

“No.” Gerard growls, then winces when he sees Frank writhe against the seatbelt, drops of sweat on his slick skin coating his forehead till even the slick water isn’t enough to distinguish the flames, they grow and consume eating away and forcing Frank to pay for his sins. “Sorry.” He adds. 

Frank shuts his eyes and makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. If only the flames would forgive him for today, if only he could rest like everyone else. 

For a while they drive in a silence only ever broken by Frank’s whines and curses. Gerard keeps throwing glances, worrying his lip, peeping out of the corner of his eye. Eventually he stomps on the breaks and looks over.

“You’re burning up.” He pulls an angsty face, then, worries his lip some more.

Now’s not the time for Gerard to be having those thoughts, thoughts about Frank sweating and gasping. He’s paying for enough already, no need to add more sins to the list.

“I fucking know.” Frank grumbles. He can no longer see past the white, past the scarlet blotches lining his vision, this is it, he thinks, it’s here.