Frerard One Shots

I've Had My Eyes On You

#5

I've Had My Eyes On You

*~*~*~*~*

This one has killing in it, so if you guys aren't into that, sorry. I've just been in a violent mood. ITS ALSO VERY LONG SORRY

Gerard's POV

I shove my pocket knife deeper into this stranger's abdomen, making blood flow from the wound and onto the smooth fabric of my leather gloves.

He looks me in the eyes, hands grabbing the loose fabric of my too-big denim jacket. His eyes hold sorrow and shock, but I feel nothing for his mixed emotions.

Blood drips out of his mouth, causing him to cough and choke, heaving his tortured body with ragged breaths. "Why?" He coughs out, using his last breath to repeat the one syllable word.

I throw him to the concrete floor of the narrow alley, pulling my knife out of the wound, flicking it shut afterwards, choosing to worry about the blood later. I bend down and shove my hands in his pockets, searching for anything worth keeping. I find his wallet and open it, finding seventy-three bucks and some credit cards, along with a picture of him and his wife. I also find a pack of cigarettes and a ring.

I look down to his left hand and see that the wedding band is missing from his ring finger. I must have caught him on his way to a little meeting with his whore of choice.

I slip the knife, wallet and cigarettes into my pockets and walk away, turning out of the alley and heading towards my small apartment, looking around to see if I can find my next victim.

Eventually, I make it to my apartment, a little disappointed that I didn't find my next victim. I like finding them early, I can learn a little about them before I kill them. The last one, he was married with a baby on the way. He was unfaithful, cheated at least once a week. He smoked cigarettes and went out to bars with a group of friends on the weekends, and his name was Ray. That's all I had time to learn. I have a specific schedule. I kill every other weekend, Saturday nights.

I walk up the stairs and put the key in the lock and turn it, waiting for the dull click of the lock. I open the door and push it softly back into place, hearing the click of the latch.

I sigh and take off my jacket, hanging it on the back of a chair sitting at the kitchen table, and pull off my gloves, tossing them onto the table. That was honestly one of my more boring kills. My favorite was when I lacerated the victim's entire body, accidentally knicking a few veins. I watched him writhe in pain, trying to stop the bleeding. Right before he ran out of consciousness, I pulled a lemon out of my pocket and sliced it in half, then squeezed the acidic juice all over one of his arms. With a finally breathy scream, he fell unconscious. I stabbed his heart, checked his pockets, and left shortly after. Sure, the lemon juice part was a little amateur and bitchy, but why not have fun while doing illegal things?

I sigh and sit down in my reclining chair, relaxing for the split second it takes me to remember I haven't cleaned my knife yet. I groan and get up, walking to my hanging jacket, shoving my hand into the pocket containing the knife and the things I took from him.

I grasp the knife, getting blood on my hand. I pull it out and inspect it, I just made a nice mess all over my favorite knife. It wasn't anything special, it's just sharper, longer, and I've made most of my kills with it.