I Never Told You What I Do For A Living {Frerard}

Russian Roulette

I never told you what I do for a living

"Let's play a game of Russian Roulette." I smile as I place the revolver onto the table, sitting down opposite Clifton so it was easier for us to play this game of suicide. There wasn't a chance of me dying, I've played it too many times to not know how to many turns it is before someone's head will be blown off. I might have known the odds of dying by this gun today, but that didn't mean that Clifton did. I was the one with all of the power here and by the look on Clifton's face, he knew that I owned the power in this room, too.

Clifton takes a look at the gun then looks back up at me, visibly shaking from the thought of playing the game with me. He shakes his head, slowly, as if he knew he shouldn't but he couldn't even try to refrain himself from doing it, "I-I don't wanna pl-play this game anymore, Gee." He stuttered, so obviously scared that it affected his speech. Clifton takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes, moving into a better position despite his restraints.

"You don't wanna play with me? What happened to all those times we had to play this game with you when we were younger? Don't you wanna bring back all those memories? C'mon, reminisce with me, dad." He cringes at me calling him 'dad', obviously knowing I only done it in spite of wanting to make him feel awkward. I never called him dad when I was a kid, Mikey always had though. It was my way of defiance, I had that as my way of standing up for myself even if it was a measly excuse for a way of standing up for myself. It had given some hope to Mikey and Shane and at points of optimism, it gave me hope.

"C'mon dad," I say again, forcing it out through my teeth as I pick up the gun to push out the cylinder, "You get to choose, one or two bullets? Amateur level or veteran level?" I smile as I bring out a box of forty five bullets, placing it on the table and take one out, rolling the cool, smooth bullet in between my thumb and index finger. I look back up at him expectantly, "I'm guessing veteran because you always forced us into that, dad."

"Gee, I'm not your dad. Hell, I'm not even sure if your dad is still alive." I paid no attention to his words, already knowing it was true. I didn't need for him to tell me that he wasn't my biological father, he needed to tell Mikey that, Mikey was the one who wasn't sure about it. Mikey was the one that didn't believe me that Clifton wasn't our dad, he wouldn't accept that we didn't actually know who the Hell our dad is, he wanted to have a face to put to the word 'dad'.

He could have chosen a better person to call daddy.

I smile a little, shaking my head softly as I look back up at him, "No, actually, he isn't alive. You're one of the last on my hit list, so he was probably one of the guys I've already disposed of. I don't lose sleep over it during the night, so it doesn't matter." I lean in, watching how Clifton stared right back at me as if it was going to get him out of this mess he brought upon himself all those years ago.

I slide one bullet into it's chamber, going to reach for the second but as soon as I hear my name being called out I halt nearly every movement, letting my eyes glide over the scenery in my basement over to the door where the sound was coming from, the frantic yells for me getting louder as he gets closer and closer to where I was. Without thinking twice, I pushed myself away from the table, taking the second bullet and spin the chambers and slide it in before locking it back into its position. I didn't know what I was meant to do with someone else in the house, was I supposed to pretend I was busy and get them out? But it was only Mikey or Frank, they knew everything.

The door bursts open and I see my short boyfriend standing there, his eyes wide his breath hard and heavy and his chest rising and falling erratically. His eyes scan over me, then at the man tied to the chair at the table behind me before running to me to take ahold of my face, "You need to get rid of him somehow. Or kill him right now and go, leave this country and run away with me. Please, Gerard, I'm begging you to run away from this with me."

I smile a little despite the setting, the behaviour of Frank and what he was asking me to do, "This is such a change of heart to what you had been asking me before, why are you asking me such things? Did Mikey say anything to you to put you up to this?" Frank groans at me, rolling his eyes and throwing his arms around carelessly. He was clearly frustrated with me, but I didn't really understand where this sudden frustration came from.

"No, honestly Gerard, how old are you really?" Frank takes a deep breath in as his eyes close for a few seconds as I begin to giggle at how annoying I was being, "Gerard, they're coming for you. They've found out where you live and who you are, Mikey called me with his one call to warn me that they had sent a fucking armada over here right now, he told me to get your stupid ass out of this place before you got yourself caught and thrown into prison."

I stare at him for a moment, thinking over what he had told me, "Why are they sending Spanish people to throw me into prison?" I ask slowly, biting on my tongue to stop the laughter when Frank stares back at me in utter bewilderment when I finished speaking, before he throws his arms up into the air, finally having enough of my shit, "Gerard! Stop being a nob! Do what you're doing but I'm only allowing you to have another five minutes."

Frank then disappears from the room leaving the door wide open, his footsteps still heard from where I stood, the panic starting to set in. I turn back to the man still tied up in the chair, "Better get this over with, then."