Club 27 [Incomplete]

• 7 •

And so the plot thickens.
- Trigger warning - (self harm)
•••

Gerard gazed down at Frank as he slept. He was always so intriguing to watch, whether it was in his sleep or when he was awake. His lips parted slightly, his eyebrows barely pulled together, and most of all, he looked neutral. Most of the time he looked sad, tired as well. But as he slept he held an undeniable normality to him. And for some odd unexplainable reason, it soothed Gerard's nerves. Of course he'd rather have Frank be happy, but he had enough age and experience on him to know that it wasn't at all a realistic thought. Besides, neutral would always be better than sad.

Frank groaned a bit and rolled over in his sleep, facing away from Gerard. He sighed and looked at the neon red clock that so vividly read "7:20 A.M.". He bit his lip and rolled onto his side, wanting to reach out and card his fingers through frank's hair. It was odd for him, being able to talk to him. He felt guilty almost. He was in his 50s after all. Sure he looked 20 but that was no where near his real age. Frank didn't seem to mind, which Gerard thought was great, but he couldn't help the nagging in the back of his mind that Frank secretly thought it was gross. Frank was over 18, sure, but it was a big age difference. Maybe he just saw Gerard as a guardian angel, nothing more.

Gerard laughed at himself. He shook his head, smiling. His smile soon disappeared as he gazed over Frank self-consciously. Of course he was nothing more than a guardian angel. Perhaps he was a guardian devil to think he and Frank would ever be more than that. He was human. Gerard was dead, and he needed to accept that of himself. He'd been dead for 27 years. His life was over long ago. Frank still has plenty of years on him, that is if he stayed alive. And maybe some part of Gerard truly did want to be with him, but God, he wanted him to stay alive even more.

   As Gerard gazed over frank's neck, he felt an eerie sensation creep over him, tingling his senses. He already knew what was about to happen. His eyes watered a bit. That always happened first. Then his nose would burn. He would get goosebumps. Pins and needles were all over his body. He knew this sensation. It was the sensation he always felt when Frank was going to hurt himself. But Frank was laying right in front of him. The only other people he was assigned to was Lyndsey and Bert, neither of which were ever suicidal. He hadn't checked on Lindsey in years but he knew she was fine. If anything, Bert was the one setting the sensations off. He was never suicidal, just always badly injured a few times from his motorcycle. He was a street racer, after all. Gerard stood up quietly from the bed, trying not to wake Frank up. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he was in an alleyway. Of course he was.

   "No, you know what you owe me!" A voice shouted. Gerard sighed and looked around for Bert. He had to do this every once in a while.

   "I don't owe you shit!" Oh, there he is, he thought to himself. Gerard walked over to the dumpster where Bert was being pinned to the wall. Though he didn't understand why his sensations were being set off, Bert wasn't in danger. This happens quite a bit. He would always get involved with some bad apples every once in a while.

   "Bullshit! I gave you Hydrazine for that fucking junkyard car of yours. You didn't win the race. Now you owe me. Big time."

    "Listen asshole, the only reason I didn't win was because that hydrazine was fucking sabotaged. I know what you did. I know scammers. I know you're one. You're not getting shit." Bert spat at him. Gerard squinted his eyes and walked closer. Just as he rounded the corner of the dumpster, the man pinning Bert to the wall pulled out a switchblade. In one swift movement, he had the silver blade pressed to Bert's neck.

    "Fuck, you psycho!" Bert whispered. Gerard's eyes widened in complete shock. This wasn't Bert's time to die. He knew Lyndsey's, Frank's, and Bert's assigned times to die. But this was not his time. Gerard quickly pulled out his knife from his boot, slashing it around the man's neck without thinking. Nothing happened. No blood, no mess. The man just clutched his heart, dropped his switchblade, and fell to the ground. Bert stared in awe.