Fic: He Ate My Heart, Frank/Gerard, Hard R
title: He Ate My Heart
pairing: Frank/Gerard
fandom: My Chemical Romance
rating: Hard, hard, R
warnings: Violence, gore, language, implied sex.
word count: ~1440
summary: “Hey Frank, I, uh, I don't feel so good. Do I look okay to you?”
a/n: This could get confusing, right. Remember That Boy Is A Monster? This is the second part of three, but it's set before the first part, so it's like a pause in the story to briefly explain - sort of - Gerard's man-eating monster condition. Cool. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this, but just so you know, I'm super proud of this series. Enjoy.
Frank had let go of Gerard's arm for one second. One fucking second to grab his wallet as the cab pulled up and he was gone. Frank felt like an idiot - when Gerard was drunk, you didn't just let go of him.
"Fuck," he muttered, turning around in time to see Gerard following a shadowy figure into an alley and Frank was damned if he was going to let that happen tonight. It wouldn't be the first time, but Frank was determined that he would be having sex with Gerard tonight, and nobody else.
Frank began to jog towards the alley, and the cab driver stared at him and sighed, turning his radio up and he pulled away from the curb. He hated the late shift.
Frank got to the alley just as the guy's teeth began to rip into Gerard's chest and Gerard screamed.
"Who the fuck are you?" Frank asked indignantly. The man looked up sharply, tearing away a chunk of flesh as he did. Gerard howled, and slammed his head against the wall. The guy's thigh was pressed between Gerard's legs, one arm around Gerard's waist, and Frank thought that they must be the only things holding him up.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man countered, scowling, mouth dripping blood onto his shirt.
"I'm his boyfriend," Frank replied impressively, puffing his chest out and drawing himself up to full height. It wasn't very effective, and the guy laughed, spitting more blood out across the alley, and, oh yeah, maybe that wasn't the most important thing right now. "What the fuck are you doing to him?"
"Your language is disgusting," the guy replied. "I'm eating him, Sherlock, what does it look like?"
Frank had to admit that maybe that wasn't the most intelligent question, but his brain was running on overdrive now as the guy's hand slid inside the hole he'd just made in Gerard's chest and slowly, almost delicately, slipped Gerard's heart out from between the flaps of flesh and oh fuck, Frank was a vegetarian.
"Uh, fuck," Gerard's low voice came from nowhere, and when the guy stepped back and took a bite from his heart, he crumpled to the floor. Frank had grabbed one of the disgusting beer bottles from the floor before he was even thinking about it.
He almost screamed fucking asshole as he smashed the bottle into the guy's face, but decided that maybe he shouldn't open his mouth because the blood was really enough, vomit was not a necessary addition to the area. So he did the smashing in silence.
Gerard's heart made a slightly gross splat sound when it hit the ground, and Frank shuddered, but there were plenty more bottles around and the man wasn't dead yet. He was leant back against the wall, howling, hands over his face, bleeding all over Gerard, but he wasn't dead and really, Frank didn't want to stop until he was.
He still didn't make a sound even when the guy's face was almost unrecognisable and so was Gerard's, under all that blood. He stood and stared, breathing harshly, swallowing the still present bile down and refusing to throw up. He did surprisingly well, actually, even when he noticed that the guy's blood was creeping across Gerard’s body, like some form of fifties horror movie monster, like The Blob or something, and into the hole in Gerard's chest. And then even when Gerard opened his eyes and looked up at Frank like he barely knew him, he kept his mouth clamped shut.
It couldn't last long though, and when Gerard pulled himself shakily to his feet, and smiled in an oddly predatory manner, and spoke, Frank was at the edge of his self-control.
“Hey Frank, I, uh, I don't feel so good. Do I look okay to you?”
That pushed Frank over the edge, and as soon as he was done vomiting, he was sprinting out of the alley and towards their - his? - apartment, almost stepping on Gerard's heart as he did.
Gerard leant back against the wall again, exhaling slowly, and stared at his heart lying motionless and half-eaten on the ground. He ran the tips of his fingers along the edge of the hole in his chest and nudged the guy on the ground with the tip of his boot. He didn't move and he definitely wasn't breathing, and Gerard looked around casually before lowering himself to his knees. He hated to see food go to waste, and meat went rotten so quickly.
-
Frank was sure he locked the door, double locked it, fucking triple locked it, but when he staggered out of bed the next morning after about twenty minutes of restless sleep Gerard was wandering around the apartment semi-naked, his torso on display for the whole world to see, eating a slab of meat that was dripping on the kitchen tiles and Frank really didn't want to know where he'd got that because it looked scarily human. In fact, Frank didn't really want to know anything, but he figured this was something you really have to have explained to you.
Gerard's chest was bizarre, paler than ever before, and the hole where his heart should be was stitched up with red thread in a pattern of messy, thin red lines. He stared at Frank from across the kitchen, and blinked his huge dark eyes a few times.
“I hope you don't mind,” he said softly, holding up the meat. “But I'm really hungry.”
Frank had to go and throw up again.
-
“I'm just so hungry,” Gerard whined again, and Frank sighed, rubbing his fingers over his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.
“I know, Gerard,” he groaned. “You said.”
“I told you, Frank, I don't know what happened. You have to tell me what you saw, because as far as I know, he tore my heart out, I died, and then I woke up again. That doesn't help us.”
Frank thought it was wrong that Gerard was the one being sensible and reasonable here, because he was also the one eating a slab of human fucking meat without a heart beating in his chest. He sighed.
“That guy's... blood went all over you, when I was... hitting him, and it went into you.”
“Into me?”
“Yeah, into the hole in your chest... Fuck, Gerard, I don't know! How are you alive?”
“You've already asked me that,” Gerard replied dryly. Frank groaned and hit his head against the wall. “We could look it up.”
“We are not looking it up,” Frank replied firmly.
They looked it up.
-
“I think I have to go out and eat tonight,” Gerard said casually, leaning back on the chair and shutting the browser down. Frank looked at him out of the corner of his eye, still pretending to read his notes. “I'm really hungry Frank.”
“You're not eating me,” Frank replied.
“Exactly,” Gerard replied, snatching the notes away. They weren't much help anyway because Gerard didn't seem to be a total zombie or a total vampire either. His brain was still fully functioning, and so were his lungs - or as functioning as they could be while being shot-to-shit by cigarette smoke - so it was only the heart that was missing, which didn't explain how his brain and lungs and stomach and muscles were still working because his fucking body pump was gone. “...so you have to let me go out and kill,” Gerard was saying when Frank zoned back in, looking proud of himself for making such a convincing argument. Frank sighed, and dropped his head into his hands.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But try and get some information about your condition because we need to tell your brother something and man-eating monster will not do. And don't bring them back here.”
Gerard brought them back to the apartment, but he fed in the kitchen and cleaned up after himself and came back practically glowing with satisfaction so Frank wasn't mad for too long.
And it turned out he got information too, as he mumbled something about blood viruses and keeping him alive to ensure its own survival and craving for human meat and turning into a monster against Frank's mouth in bed that night, but Frank was far too busy grinding on Gerard's thigh to pay too much attention.
Tomorrow, he could explain it more clearly, but it seemed that a human heart was an aphrodesiac and Frank had (almost) no problem with that all right now.
pairing: Frank/Gerard
fandom: My Chemical Romance
rating: Hard, hard, R
warnings: Violence, gore, language, implied sex.
word count: ~1440
summary: “Hey Frank, I, uh, I don't feel so good. Do I look okay to you?”
a/n: This could get confusing, right. Remember That Boy Is A Monster? This is the second part of three, but it's set before the first part, so it's like a pause in the story to briefly explain - sort of - Gerard's man-eating monster condition. Cool. I'm sorry it took me so long to write this, but just so you know, I'm super proud of this series. Enjoy.
Frank had let go of Gerard's arm for one second. One fucking second to grab his wallet as the cab pulled up and he was gone. Frank felt like an idiot - when Gerard was drunk, you didn't just let go of him.
"Fuck," he muttered, turning around in time to see Gerard following a shadowy figure into an alley and Frank was damned if he was going to let that happen tonight. It wouldn't be the first time, but Frank was determined that he would be having sex with Gerard tonight, and nobody else.
Frank began to jog towards the alley, and the cab driver stared at him and sighed, turning his radio up and he pulled away from the curb. He hated the late shift.
Frank got to the alley just as the guy's teeth began to rip into Gerard's chest and Gerard screamed.
"Who the fuck are you?" Frank asked indignantly. The man looked up sharply, tearing away a chunk of flesh as he did. Gerard howled, and slammed his head against the wall. The guy's thigh was pressed between Gerard's legs, one arm around Gerard's waist, and Frank thought that they must be the only things holding him up.
"Who the fuck are you?" the man countered, scowling, mouth dripping blood onto his shirt.
"I'm his boyfriend," Frank replied impressively, puffing his chest out and drawing himself up to full height. It wasn't very effective, and the guy laughed, spitting more blood out across the alley, and, oh yeah, maybe that wasn't the most important thing right now. "What the fuck are you doing to him?"
"Your language is disgusting," the guy replied. "I'm eating him, Sherlock, what does it look like?"
Frank had to admit that maybe that wasn't the most intelligent question, but his brain was running on overdrive now as the guy's hand slid inside the hole he'd just made in Gerard's chest and slowly, almost delicately, slipped Gerard's heart out from between the flaps of flesh and oh fuck, Frank was a vegetarian.
"Uh, fuck," Gerard's low voice came from nowhere, and when the guy stepped back and took a bite from his heart, he crumpled to the floor. Frank had grabbed one of the disgusting beer bottles from the floor before he was even thinking about it.
He almost screamed fucking asshole as he smashed the bottle into the guy's face, but decided that maybe he shouldn't open his mouth because the blood was really enough, vomit was not a necessary addition to the area. So he did the smashing in silence.
Gerard's heart made a slightly gross splat sound when it hit the ground, and Frank shuddered, but there were plenty more bottles around and the man wasn't dead yet. He was leant back against the wall, howling, hands over his face, bleeding all over Gerard, but he wasn't dead and really, Frank didn't want to stop until he was.
He still didn't make a sound even when the guy's face was almost unrecognisable and so was Gerard's, under all that blood. He stood and stared, breathing harshly, swallowing the still present bile down and refusing to throw up. He did surprisingly well, actually, even when he noticed that the guy's blood was creeping across Gerard’s body, like some form of fifties horror movie monster, like The Blob or something, and into the hole in Gerard's chest. And then even when Gerard opened his eyes and looked up at Frank like he barely knew him, he kept his mouth clamped shut.
It couldn't last long though, and when Gerard pulled himself shakily to his feet, and smiled in an oddly predatory manner, and spoke, Frank was at the edge of his self-control.
“Hey Frank, I, uh, I don't feel so good. Do I look okay to you?”
That pushed Frank over the edge, and as soon as he was done vomiting, he was sprinting out of the alley and towards their - his? - apartment, almost stepping on Gerard's heart as he did.
Gerard leant back against the wall again, exhaling slowly, and stared at his heart lying motionless and half-eaten on the ground. He ran the tips of his fingers along the edge of the hole in his chest and nudged the guy on the ground with the tip of his boot. He didn't move and he definitely wasn't breathing, and Gerard looked around casually before lowering himself to his knees. He hated to see food go to waste, and meat went rotten so quickly.
-
Frank was sure he locked the door, double locked it, fucking triple locked it, but when he staggered out of bed the next morning after about twenty minutes of restless sleep Gerard was wandering around the apartment semi-naked, his torso on display for the whole world to see, eating a slab of meat that was dripping on the kitchen tiles and Frank really didn't want to know where he'd got that because it looked scarily human. In fact, Frank didn't really want to know anything, but he figured this was something you really have to have explained to you.
Gerard's chest was bizarre, paler than ever before, and the hole where his heart should be was stitched up with red thread in a pattern of messy, thin red lines. He stared at Frank from across the kitchen, and blinked his huge dark eyes a few times.
“I hope you don't mind,” he said softly, holding up the meat. “But I'm really hungry.”
Frank had to go and throw up again.
-
“I'm just so hungry,” Gerard whined again, and Frank sighed, rubbing his fingers over his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.
“I know, Gerard,” he groaned. “You said.”
“I told you, Frank, I don't know what happened. You have to tell me what you saw, because as far as I know, he tore my heart out, I died, and then I woke up again. That doesn't help us.”
Frank thought it was wrong that Gerard was the one being sensible and reasonable here, because he was also the one eating a slab of human fucking meat without a heart beating in his chest. He sighed.
“That guy's... blood went all over you, when I was... hitting him, and it went into you.”
“Into me?”
“Yeah, into the hole in your chest... Fuck, Gerard, I don't know! How are you alive?”
“You've already asked me that,” Gerard replied dryly. Frank groaned and hit his head against the wall. “We could look it up.”
“We are not looking it up,” Frank replied firmly.
They looked it up.
-
“I think I have to go out and eat tonight,” Gerard said casually, leaning back on the chair and shutting the browser down. Frank looked at him out of the corner of his eye, still pretending to read his notes. “I'm really hungry Frank.”
“You're not eating me,” Frank replied.
“Exactly,” Gerard replied, snatching the notes away. They weren't much help anyway because Gerard didn't seem to be a total zombie or a total vampire either. His brain was still fully functioning, and so were his lungs - or as functioning as they could be while being shot-to-shit by cigarette smoke - so it was only the heart that was missing, which didn't explain how his brain and lungs and stomach and muscles were still working because his fucking body pump was gone. “...so you have to let me go out and kill,” Gerard was saying when Frank zoned back in, looking proud of himself for making such a convincing argument. Frank sighed, and dropped his head into his hands.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “But try and get some information about your condition because we need to tell your brother something and man-eating monster will not do. And don't bring them back here.”
Gerard brought them back to the apartment, but he fed in the kitchen and cleaned up after himself and came back practically glowing with satisfaction so Frank wasn't mad for too long.
And it turned out he got information too, as he mumbled something about blood viruses and keeping him alive to ensure its own survival and craving for human meat and turning into a monster against Frank's mouth in bed that night, but Frank was far too busy grinding on Gerard's thigh to pay too much attention.
Tomorrow, he could explain it more clearly, but it seemed that a human heart was an aphrodesiac and Frank had (almost) no problem with that all right now.