all the angels || frerard

"floorboards"

hi it's 1:16 AM and I have homework but fuck it :)

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For a second I laid there in shock, just staring at the ceiling. Then the pain of the cut finally arrived, along with the feeling of blood dripping down my thighs.

**Present Time**
Third Person
"I'll go get the salt." Helena muttered knowing damn well that salt wouldn't help with the issue.

Mikey and Gerard didn't even try to stop her. Instead the two just stared at each other in shock. Who could blame them though?

"I don't think salt will fix th-"

"She already fucking knows that." Gerard interrupted, pulling Mikey into the trashed bedroom. 4:00 AM was still scribbled all over the ceiling in some sort of black substance, but wasn't dripping as much.

"Someone's in a pissy mood." Gee shut the door behind Mikey.

"Maybe it's because our lives are at risk!" He snapped, causing Mikey to jump back. To say Mikey wasn't taking the situation seriously was an understatement. Does he think this is a fucking joke?

"How are our lives at risk? It's a poltergeist," Mikey paused before grabbing a beanie and speaking again.
"What's it gonna do? Break my laundry basket?" He shrugged.

Gerard was beyond furious. How could he be so oblivious?

"Put that beanie back, it could have  some bad juju." Gerard swiped the hat off his brothers head and tossed it across the room.

"Bad juju?" Mikey questioned, his eyebrows stitched together.

"You know what [they do to guys like us in prison] I mean. He could've latched himself onto any one of these things." Gerard said as he dropped a empty red bull can onto the flipped over bed.

"It's probably not even him."

Gerard screwed his eyes shut, not paying any mind to Mikey's skepticism about it. No matter how much Mikey denied it, he knew what was really in his bedroom. Even if the bed wasn't flipped over along with a broken lava lamp. He would've still known it was back.

"How do you even know it's that specific demon?" Mikey fumbled with the hem of his Radiohead shirt, knowing his older brother would answer with something exciting yet absolutely terrifying.

Gerard shrugged off his brothers question, gliding his pale digits along the torn wallpaper. Mikey was a little disappointed with his response as he watched his brother.

Trying to communicate with the dead would be hard, and a long process. Starting with the walls would make it go by a bit faster.

"Fuck!" Gerard retracted his hand almost instantly. Two pink marks formed on his fingers, both of them stinging more as they became visible.

warmwarmwarmwarmwarm

Voices whispered into Gerard's ears, sending shivers down his spine. Found them.

"What are they saying? Anything?" Mikey snatched a notebook from the floor, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a chewed pencil. Gross.