You Are Red, Violent Red

Don't own anything but the plotline, and I hope to God it's not true. Don't know them either. The title is from MakeDamnSure by Taking Back Sunday.
I want to make this absolutely clear, this came in a fit of inspiration, after reading loads of MCR fics and thinking about death. I mean nothing against the band, and am making no assumptions about the nature of gay men by writing this. It's just what my little brain developed.

Implied Gerard/Frank and Gerard/Mikey. Though not alot of the last one. Enjoy.

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Poison is impersonal, unloving and rather pathetic. A gun is beautiful, but only when used properly. A knife, now that is close to perfection. It's for those who feel nothing, but want death. And strangling, that is as personal as it comes. You see, you can poison someone from a different country, you can shoot someone from a distance, and you can stab someone in the back without them ever knowing. But strangulation, there death is close, they know its coming, they can feel your body pressed against theirs. And, as their brain slowly shuts down from lack of oxygen, they are forced to hear whatever you say. When you bleed to death, you can still fight back for a surprising amount of time. But when you very cells are shutting down, there is nothing you can do. It's beautiful actually. Seeing someone struggle for the air you breathe in, taunting them until the very end. I love death. I love administering it, I love seeing it, and I love to go to the funerals of those I've killed, when I can.

The first person I killed was my mother's friend. She was an absolute, grade-A bitch to me. Always finding something to pick at, and then telling my mother a lie about me. Not that they were all lies. I was most definitely fucking her son, but that's just a minor detail. One day, I was making coffee for her and my mother. And I just so happened to add a little more than sugar to hers. Not that anyone knew it was poison, or that it was me. No, even at 17, I knew everything I could about death, and I hid it very well. I remember her funeral perfectly. I did her son at the reception, in the bathroom. Frank didn't mind her death either, she didn't approve of his sexuality at all. Stupid bitch. I went a few years without killing, I think I was actually afraid of the power I'd found.

But then, when I was 19, I used my first gun. Well, it wasn't mine, it was his, but once again, details. He'd found Frank and I in a rather... compromising, position in the dorm's showers. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but this ass was well, an ass. So, when I walked in and grabbed the hand gun I knew was in his desk and blew his brains out one night, I felt no remorse. Actually, it was exhilarating. I got the biggest high off of the look on his face, and when I got back to my room, I had the best sex possibly ever. I kept the gun too, my first trophy.

Frank loved it, he actually helped me with the next one. She was a freshman, I was a junior and Frank was a sophomore at the time. She was absolutely enamored with Frank. He led her on, even though she knew we were "dating" she believed it. Probably though she would turn him from the dark side. Absolute bull-shit, he's the gayest bisexual I've ever met. He loves to tease though. Anyway, back to the story, I know you are dying to know what happened to her. Well, one night they met in the library to work on Biology I believe. I can't remember shit like that. The walk home was when we did it. I waited along the sidewalk, he had her wrapped in his arms and I had the knife. Let's just say she learned a lot about Biology that night. Namely, the map of her own insides. It turned the both of us on so much, we were almost caught we were so loud.

Oh, I'm sorry, I've been going on about this and I haven't been paying attention to you. Still conscious? Comfortable? No, I imagine not. It's your own damn fault actually. You pissed someone off. And here is where the story gets really good, you should pay special attention to it, you may want to know how it is I ended up in this job. Seeing as you're at the receiving end.

You see, college went on rather uneventfully after that. Frank and I lived what could be called a normal life. No one died for about, oh three years. That's right, because we were living in an apartment together close to New York, with my brother too actually, he was in his last year at NYU. Frank and I were out one night and at a bar. One of the guys there didn't appreciate the "show" we were putting on. Damn homophobes are so stupid. Followed us out and into an alley, we were planning on a little fun. We had more though. As I was finishing up, we were caught. Not that it turned out badly. Ray actually turned out to be our savior. He liked our work and offered us a chance to do it professionally. Of course, we jumped at the chance. The only snag was that we had to kill who he told us too. Though, we actually don't mind so much any more.

Two years later and about 50 people dead across the country, my brother found out. Why it took so long is beyond me. He always was a little oblivious though. It took him three times of finding Frank and I in bed together to figure out we were fucking each other, let alone gay. Anyways, all three of us were in a hotel in the middle of shitty-ass nowhere someplace in the Midwest driving to Utah to visit some friends. We had just gotten to the room and were leaving for dinner when we got a call from Ray, asking us if we were up for a job that night, some bar-owner owed some dude money for crack. We said sure, but Mikey was still in the car. So, we went to dinner, ate and slipped a little something into his drink. Nothing too strong, but enough to knock him out, or so we thought. He stayed asleep through us getting the guy and killing him, but while we were loading the body into the trunk, he woke up. And as cool as can be, he climbed out of the car, surprisingly sober for someone that had just woken up from a drugged sleep. Then the fucker offered us a hand, like it was groceries we were loading in, not a smelly, fat short drug dealer who was still cooling. At least there was no blood though, we'd strangled him with his tie.

And so, our group was up to three. And remains at three. But you already knew that, didn't you sugar? I know I saw you staring at my brother's ass too, back in the club. Too bad, he's all mine. Plus, he's gay. He'd hardly be interested in your scrawny ass. If you ask nicely though, Frank might do you a last request. Speak of the devil. Stay right here and don't make a sound. Ha, not that you could if you wanted to.

How's that poison coming? Good and painful yet? Or did I miss that phase? We had a little... business that needed to be taken care of. You know the kind, what you were offering Mikey back there. It's been what? Four hours? You'll be dead soon. Aw, don't cry sugar, you have such pretty eyes, it'd be a shame to die all bloodshot and teary. Besides, I can't stand a girl crying. Here, let's get that gag out of your mouth, the pain has passed and you won't be able to scream soon. Your muscles should be relaxing any minute now and you'll start to fall asleep. I never said I was completely heartless to everyone, just those who pissed me off. Now, lay down, close your eyes, and when you wake up, you'll be where ever it is whores like you go. But shh... that's our little secret, you tried so hard not to be one, didn't you.

Oh well, time to die sugar. And I've got two lovely young men waiting in bed for me.

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~Finis~

xo
Quill