Chapter Two

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His head throbbed as he came to, but he was shrouded in darkness, like the blind awakening from a lucid dream. His fingers groped around him, but all he felt was the cold rock that made up the mausoleum. The only sounds were of his panting breaths. As he sits up and grabs at the back of his neck, he feels a wet but sticky medium knapping the hair at the back of his head. It's no use checking if he was bleeding, as the pitch left him blinded. Bringing one of his fingers to his lips, he tastes metal. Of course he was bleeding. Don't panic, his heart seemed to say as it beat. Don't you fucking panic. Of course, that was easier said than done and he didn't think that his current circumstance was normal enough to try to find his happy place. He was dragged into a fucking tomb by something that he hadn't a clue what so, yeah, excuse him for panicking a bit. Just then, a pin prick of light appeared far away down the corridor, slightly illuminating his surroundings. Gerard pushed himself up onto his elbows and squinted into the dim light. The light was flickering as if it was made of flame. He could barely make out unlit torches lining the wall stretching down what looked like an eternity of hallways leading to... what exactly? This definitely seemed like a Tardis; way, way bigger on the inside than the outside. Gerard found the strength to pull himself completely up into a seated position and felt his hand onto his wound again and found it growing tackier as the blood began to coagulate. He flung his stained fingers down onto the floor and sighed. He stared down at the blurry faded rock below him and picked at the pebbles of slate. "Damn I could really use a-"


"Cigarette?" A low voice caught in the darkness.


Gerard jumped to his feet and his head rushed. His hand found his wound again and rubbed. He hunched back over in pain and his breathing came back in pants. "Woah, woah, calm down. It's okay." The same voice seemed to echo.


Before Gerard could answer, a small flame ignited from the stranger's lighter. Gently, the stranger held out a Marlboro Red, filter side towards Gerard. Gerard's eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stared longingly at the cigarette. "Oh, come on! I don't bite! Well, on first dates anyways." The stranger giggles.


"What the fuck is going on?" Gerard grunts. "Am I in some kind of fucked up, gothic Alice in Wonderland or something?"


"What? Come on, take the cigarette, okay? You clearly need it."


Gerard looked up into the stranger's face and saw his lopsided grin and his multicolored hair and felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Kind of like when you get butterflies when looking at a pretty girl... or boy.


"Thanks..." Gerard's voice trails off as he realizes that he doesn't know this guy's name. "Uhm..."


"Call me Frankie." That smile again, as he moves the lighter closer to Gerard.


Gerard leans in to catch the cigarette onto the flame and his face is completely illuminated, almost like a reverse halo. His lips pursed around the filter as he pulled in a breath igniting the Marlboro as a cherry red ember catches. Gerard inhales deeply and exhales a purplish plume of smoke that tapers and curls around Frank's cheeks, giving him an appearance of being in a 1950's horror film; the smoke adding a bit of grain to the eerie darkness.


They stay in silence for almost a minute as Frank pulled down a wall sconce and lit the old timber left inside with the Bic and pulled out a cigarette of his own. Using the torch, he pulled his own lungful of smoke and lit his ember. Replacing the sconce, Frank dropped into a cross legged sitting position across from Gerard. Their two cherries glowed with each pull, almost in sync with each other's. After taking a drag, Gerard's left hand, still holding the cigarette, fell onto his left knee as he exhaled and tried to take in more of his surroundings in the richer light of the torch. The stone floor was grey and dirty with ash, and not just from their cigarettes, and even the walls had a misty coat of powder on them. There were stairs down the hall where the original pin prick of light appeared that seemed to go on forever. Looking over his shoulder, Gerard noticed there was the flight of stairs that Frank must have dragged him down with the mausoleum door nowhere in sight. There was a cold in the air that felt frostier than what he felt out in the cemetery which was an obvious sign that they were further underground than he thought, and even between drags, he could see both his and Frank's breath clearly. "So," Frank cleared his throat in a somewhat charming way, but this gave way to a full on coughing fit where he almost doubled over trying to bring something up.


"Shit, are you okay?" Gerard clumsily got to his feet and started to pat Frank on the back.


"Yeah," Frank sputtered, taking another drag. "Happens all the time." He hacked up and spat a giant wad of spit into the far corner of the tomb.


"That doesn't seem like something you should be doing in someone's tomb."


Frank looks up and crookedly smiles at Gerard before spitting another glob of saliva into the opposite corner. Gerard rolls his eyes trying to suppress a laugh. "So tell me," Gerard takes a final drag and stubs out his butt on the bottom of his Converse. "Do you normally frequent mausoleums and drag strange guys into them or am I just special?"


Frank's shoulders hitch with a shrug as he flicks his cigarette remnant into the former corner and eyes Gerard grinning, taking in the angelic face the dim light illuminated. "Oh, you're special alright, but to answer your question, yes, I do frequent mausoleums, but no, I don't normally drag cute guys down into their bellies with me. It's more of a singular activity."


Frank takes another cigarette from his crumpled pack out of his breast pocket and stands to light it with the hall torch. He begins to cough again. "Do you have a death wish or something?" Gerard slaps him on his back again.


"Just a nicotine addiction," Frank sputters as he streams smoke from between his chapped lips and eyes Gerard.


In the torchlight, Gerard notices Frank has tattoos almost all over his hands. The warm light blends in with his orange letters stenciled into his knuckles. "Well, this has been fun... Kinda..." Gerard begins to stand and walk towards the ascending stairs. "But I should really be going..."


Before he could climb the first step, Gerard feels a warm palm grasp his own and gently pull. "Go where? Back into the loving arms of that... Thing waiting for you outside?"


Gerard swallows hard and tries to remain calm. He almost forgot about escaping from whatever it was that was chasing him. Trying to downplay it's severity, he coolly responds with denial. "What 'thing' are you even talking about? You know that this isn't the best neighborhood. I was just lost, that's all."


Frank shakes his head and withdraws the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out to Gerard to take a drag. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid or something? I know a demon when I see one and this one seems to be in love with you, Gee."


Gerard hesitates for a moment and then pulls a deep drag from the cigarette Frank is sharing. No one had ever called him Gee before, but the way that it came from Frank, it warmed Gerard up and travelled deep down. "Okay, okay, I don't know where this thing came from, but it won't leave me alone... It's starting to really creep me out."


Gerard takes a deep breath and sits down on the stair. He runs his fingers through his dark hair and feels the clotted patch of blood soaked hair at the nape of his neck before bringing his hands back to his lap. "It's probably still fucking out there, isn't it?" Gerard finds Frank's eyes looking almost as concerned as his own and exhales loudly.


"I can only guess," Frank states while offering Gerard another drag. "But I do know one thing for sure."


"What's that?"


Frank licks his lips and his black lined eyes dart from the grimy floor up to Gerard's hazel irises. "That you're safe here... with me."


"How would you know that?" Gerard breathes.


"Because," Frank looks back down at the floor and around the barren walls. "From all that I know, it can't tread on holy ground." Gerard looks around the tomb at the random engravings of Romans and Psalms randomly etched into the stone. "Shit, you're right." Gerard notices that they are almost entirely surrounded by biblical blessings, like the words of a salt circle.

So Long, Not GoodnightDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora