Blood and tears are happiness - Chapter One
Title: Blood and tears are happiness
Author: chaosxcalamity
Rating: R
Pairing: Frank/Brendon (plus Ryan/Jon, Frank/Jon & Brendon/Jon later on)
POV: 3rd
Summary: Frank's a hitman and Brendon is his next target. Both boys are very damaged. What happens when they meet? Can Frank complete his job and kill Brendon? Or will Brendon open up Frank's sealed heart?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is fiction.
Author Notes: I need a beta. Continue? And if you read this at my lj awhile ago then it's changed a bit.
Somewhere along the way Frank lost his heart. Some days he’s okay and can actually breathe and feel the wind grace his face. Other days he is an empty and destructive mess. He thinks he deserves nothing more than a worm infested grave. Right now he’s crying himself into a comma and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever come out once he slips inside that sweet sleep.
He’s the one that no one wants to be near and everyone wants to know about…even if they won’t admit it.
He wishes that someone would wait for him to come out of his shell. The end could be happiness. But maybe happiness is a cover, just the icing on the cake. Maybe it just doesn’t exist anymore--if it ever did. Happiness may be as real as Santa or God. He’s just waiting for his paint to chip and glaze to crack. Not even the midnight sky filled with stars, glowing moon, and breezy wind can save him now. The streets and tree tops are iced over, just like his heart is slowly icing. One day we’re all going to realize that life has no purpose except for us to suffer. And if you aren’t suffering--you’re doing it wrong.
And this is just one more day at work, hell, the factory of death for Frank. One more hit and he’s done with this shit. He’s taken 29 lives and only one remains. He feels remorse for, well, none of them. He’s just the jagged teeth of the machine that bites what it’s told. It’s taken over and he’s not sure how much longer he can stand the smoke filling lungs. Ashes float in his blood. The darkest fire from hell is consuming him and slowly burning his soul, or what’s left of it.
The clock reads nine thirty-seven and his next assignment is about to walk through the glass doors. He’s getting a feel for him. He remembers every one of his targets. Every single one. They are engraved in his mind. Forever imprinted. He will never forget any of them.
His next hit works as a bartender at a downtown hotspot where all the young fashionistas party. Where all the scene boys and girls think it’s cool to hang. He works there, giving free drinks and hitting on anything that breathes and moves. His life is shit and he probably knows it. Someone wants him dead and Frank is the exact person to do the deed. But he wonders what’s so significant about this asshole. Why do they want him dead?
Definition. All of his targets have to be defined. He wants them to be a dictionary and a thesaurus in one. They need to be specific. He needs to know everything about them. What they’re going to do and how they’re going to do it. They are a book and he reads every bit of them.
The way you walk, talk, and breathe define everything about you. He lives inside of you once you are his mark. He knows what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it. He knows what you’re thinking. He can feel how your heart reacts to each breath. He becomes you.
- November 7, 1995 -
Frank’s hiding with his head between his knees in his closet for the thousandth time. He doesn’t know what else to do anymore. Interfering never seems to work; in fact, it just makes every situation much worse. All he knows is that he can’t stand this much longer.
Sometimes you think that people can’t be as awful as they seem. His father will prove your sorry ass wrong. His father who threatens to kill him, his mother, and little brother if they don’t do every thing he commands. He isn’t bluffing so don’t even try to play that card. He never bluffs. Karrie is the proof of that. He saw what that bastard did to her. And there was nothing that he could do about. He saw the tears and heard the cries. He wants nothing more than to slit that motherfucker’s throat and send him to hell.
He hears pounding footsteps approaching and he tries to calm himself with a deep breath.
“Frank! Get your useless ass out here right now! I’m tired of your shit. Quit hiding like a pussy and come here.” His father says.
Frank slowly opens the door and wipes the tears from his eyes.
“What shit are you telling your mother? You think I did what to Karrie? You are delusional, boy. You’re fucking grounded.”
“Like I actually go anywhere anyway.”
“Just keep your goddamn mouth shut before I do something you‘ll regret.”
~~~~
Continue?
I've been absent for a while..
I need a beta.
Author: chaosxcalamity
Rating: R
Pairing: Frank/Brendon (plus Ryan/Jon, Frank/Jon & Brendon/Jon later on)
POV: 3rd
Summary: Frank's a hitman and Brendon is his next target. Both boys are very damaged. What happens when they meet? Can Frank complete his job and kill Brendon? Or will Brendon open up Frank's sealed heart?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, this is fiction.
Author Notes: I need a beta. Continue? And if you read this at my lj awhile ago then it's changed a bit.
Somewhere along the way Frank lost his heart. Some days he’s okay and can actually breathe and feel the wind grace his face. Other days he is an empty and destructive mess. He thinks he deserves nothing more than a worm infested grave. Right now he’s crying himself into a comma and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever come out once he slips inside that sweet sleep.
He’s the one that no one wants to be near and everyone wants to know about…even if they won’t admit it.
He wishes that someone would wait for him to come out of his shell. The end could be happiness. But maybe happiness is a cover, just the icing on the cake. Maybe it just doesn’t exist anymore--if it ever did. Happiness may be as real as Santa or God. He’s just waiting for his paint to chip and glaze to crack. Not even the midnight sky filled with stars, glowing moon, and breezy wind can save him now. The streets and tree tops are iced over, just like his heart is slowly icing. One day we’re all going to realize that life has no purpose except for us to suffer. And if you aren’t suffering--you’re doing it wrong.
And this is just one more day at work, hell, the factory of death for Frank. One more hit and he’s done with this shit. He’s taken 29 lives and only one remains. He feels remorse for, well, none of them. He’s just the jagged teeth of the machine that bites what it’s told. It’s taken over and he’s not sure how much longer he can stand the smoke filling lungs. Ashes float in his blood. The darkest fire from hell is consuming him and slowly burning his soul, or what’s left of it.
The clock reads nine thirty-seven and his next assignment is about to walk through the glass doors. He’s getting a feel for him. He remembers every one of his targets. Every single one. They are engraved in his mind. Forever imprinted. He will never forget any of them.
His next hit works as a bartender at a downtown hotspot where all the young fashionistas party. Where all the scene boys and girls think it’s cool to hang. He works there, giving free drinks and hitting on anything that breathes and moves. His life is shit and he probably knows it. Someone wants him dead and Frank is the exact person to do the deed. But he wonders what’s so significant about this asshole. Why do they want him dead?
Definition. All of his targets have to be defined. He wants them to be a dictionary and a thesaurus in one. They need to be specific. He needs to know everything about them. What they’re going to do and how they’re going to do it. They are a book and he reads every bit of them.
The way you walk, talk, and breathe define everything about you. He lives inside of you once you are his mark. He knows what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it. He knows what you’re thinking. He can feel how your heart reacts to each breath. He becomes you.
- November 7, 1995 -
Frank’s hiding with his head between his knees in his closet for the thousandth time. He doesn’t know what else to do anymore. Interfering never seems to work; in fact, it just makes every situation much worse. All he knows is that he can’t stand this much longer.
Sometimes you think that people can’t be as awful as they seem. His father will prove your sorry ass wrong. His father who threatens to kill him, his mother, and little brother if they don’t do every thing he commands. He isn’t bluffing so don’t even try to play that card. He never bluffs. Karrie is the proof of that. He saw what that bastard did to her. And there was nothing that he could do about. He saw the tears and heard the cries. He wants nothing more than to slit that motherfucker’s throat and send him to hell.
He hears pounding footsteps approaching and he tries to calm himself with a deep breath.
“Frank! Get your useless ass out here right now! I’m tired of your shit. Quit hiding like a pussy and come here.” His father says.
Frank slowly opens the door and wipes the tears from his eyes.
“What shit are you telling your mother? You think I did what to Karrie? You are delusional, boy. You’re fucking grounded.”
“Like I actually go anywhere anyway.”
“Just keep your goddamn mouth shut before I do something you‘ll regret.”
~~~~
Continue?
I've been absent for a while..
I need a beta.