Frerard OneShots (finished)

LXXIII - Curse On My Tongue #2

[fun when you realize you did some genius stuff in part 1 that you can reuse in part 2 without planning it

anyway warning for blood and gore and horror elements in general as well as internalized homophobia stay safe]

The following week, I had to organize my Father's funeral.

I had barely even time to mourn over him between the stress at church and caring for my mother. Of course, Mikey, my brother, helped and took care of her, but also he needed a break from time to time. So, the next week was only work for me between the few hours of sleep I got.

Only when I stood on the stage in my church, my father's coffin right next to me and my mourning family in front of me, did everything sink in.

The organ played some song I didn't care to recognize as I stared at the people sitting in the pews, expecting me to say something, do something. They all looked so hopeless, so desperate to hear some words from me to make them feel better.

But I couldn't.

There was nothing I could say to make it better.

So, I stood there, frozen, zoned out, silent tears streaming down my face. I clutched the bible in my hand I was supposed to recite from as my chest stuttered with a sob and I tried so hard to keep my shit together.

Again, I couldn't.

In no time, I was a sobbing mess, right on stage for everyone to see. One hand, I had put over my mouth to silence the sobs, and I clutched the bible to my chest with the other. The tears were flowing freely now, and I hastily blinked them away in an attempt to compose myself.

When my vision cleared, the room was empty and even the organ music had ceased.

The silence was deafening, suffocating, and there was no trace of anyone ever having been there.

Except for one figure, standing at the entrance.

My breathing picked up until I was lightheaded from the sobs and hyperventilation but I kept my gaze on the figure in the doorframe; something told me that if I begged him, he'd help me. He'd put me out of my misery, in one way or another, I just had to fall to my knees and beg.

So, I did exactly that.

With a thump silenced by the carpet, I fell to my knees, ignoring the dull ache. My hands, I had in front of my chest, clutching to the bible for dear life. The tears were dripping down my chin and onto the carpet but I couldn't care as I finally managed to bring out my desperation, wrapped up in one word:

"Please."

I knew it was enough when he instantly stepped over.

My sobs became less frequent when his existence alone warmed the entire church. The warmth had something comforting I hadn't noticed before. It was like being wrapped in a blanket when you're running a fever; like drinking hot tea on a cold winter day; like holding your love close while falling asleep.

It was exactly that, but a lot more overwhelming.

It was even more overwhelming than the deafening silence plaguing my mind, and when he stood right in front of me, I could barely breathe anymore. I hiccuped and sobbed but tried to compose myself, choking the sounds back.

With pure desperation and pleading in my eyes, I looked up at him, trying to make him do something. But he just stood there, looking.

After a second that seemed way too long, he finally met my gaze, and his eyes sparkled with a dangerous, yellowish tinge. "What are you pleading for?"