"He thinks I have stigmata," Frank said, because what the fucking hell, it couldn't get any worse. He might as well just lay it out. "Oh, well," said Brian into his hands. "Of course." ~ I did not write this story. All credit goes to the author, Bexless on Archive Of Our Own. Link to the original story: http://archive...
"There's a reason we are white and pure, and they are black and dirty. There's a reason they stain our skin. That we are shamed if others see those stains. They're bad people, Frank. They're disgusting."
They were murdered, they were attacked and now they're dead. That's all Frank knows about his parents - gone before he'd even had chance to miss them, and it was fucking with his head. The police reckoned that moving away, to rural New Jersey with his grandparents would help him cope with the loss, but even Frank knew...
It's 2018 and people think that the apocalypse has ended. Where cities, homes, businesses and humble towns once stood, now there lies only death, only destruction, only emptiness. Only the moans and the shuffles of the living dead. But in reality, it's only just begun. And for two lonely boys, once separated from each...
It's the lake in November, and the move closer to the ocean, and Gerard's fixation, and Gerard's compulsions like tidal waves dragging him down, and Mikey's more distant than ever: like they're drifting out into the middle of the ocean, whereas Gerard's just stuck there: water turning to quicksand around him, drowning...
