Just letting you know this chapter deals with someone's past and there's mentions of abuse and death, but it's not extremely detailed or anything. read safely, friends.

— 

The morning was bright and golden as opposed to the howling winds and the drizzle of rain encasing the land the night before. Gerard soaked in the brightness that made even the most unpleasant of estates brighten. The servants drew back all of the curtains and allowed the beautiful day to wash over the sullen colors and possessions of the home.

As much as Gerard wished he could muster the enthusiasm to take advantage of the perfect weather to take a stroll out in the city, perhaps visit a few shops, he dwelled in his study. Helplessly folded in his chair, Gerard ran a hand over the side of his face repetitively as he reconsidered his art. After his experiences, he wasn't certain things could get better while under the roof of the manor, he imagined things could only advance for the worst. He adored his tale and admired his own creativity for fabricating the parts of his story that seemed to write themselves as he hunched over his typewriter for days, but no one should be so willing to sacrifice more than an inch of their sanity for art. A bit was required, as writing took more than concentration and imagination, but Gerard never witnessed his mind unraveling in the evening the way he did in the place he chose to stay in.

Breaking Gerard out of his troubled thoughts was the familiar sound of the violin from the room next door. Gerard's tired eyes lifted away from his stack of papers and rested unfocused on a spot on the ground as he tuned in to the music being weaved by expert hands he now knew belonged to Frank. Given a visible, he imagined nimble fingers wrapped around the neck of his instrument, long lashes brushing the tops of flushed cheeks and a concentrated furrow between perfect eyebrows and Frank assumed a composer's position and guided the bow across the strings.

Gerard was surprised that the enchantingly melancholy sound of his violin was corrupted by stale anger. It was clear the bitterness stained through as the notes weren't as clean, taking abrupt twists nearly startling Gerard anew each time he adjusted to the sound. Sourness cascaded over the ethereal fabrications of splendor and began tainting it further as the rhythm surged forward into quicker intervals. Gerard noticed the way it affected the pattern of his heartbeat as he clung desperately onto every sound the violin produced, as if there wasn't enough time in the universe to take a slow pace. The music swelled in his chest and twirled along the hairs of the back of his neck rising at the outpour of coldness unleashed from the song.

The music abruptly stopped. Following it was not silence, but a sorrowful cry wrenched from the chest of a tortured individual. Gerard flinched as a crashing noise echoed in the walls, causing the sobbing to become more uncontrolled.

Gerard knew so little about the young man he recently crossed paths with, but his every instinct led him to rising from his chair and quickly approaching the door to swing it open. Gerard's wide eyes fell upon the sealed door the weeping boy laid beyond and he hesitated, but as the sorrowful noises faded into sniveling whimpers, Gerard curled his hand around the knob and entered.

Frank was sitting curled up on the ground beside a lounging chair, his violin laying broken a few feet away beside a knocked over vase shattered to pieces on the ground. His bow wasn't anywhere to be found, but Gerard's focus wasn't on locating it. Frank hung his head between his knees and struggled to contain his sobs after realizing his volume and lightly rocked himself to be soothed.

"Pardon me for entering without warning, but I heard you next door and..." Gerard wasn't quite sure what to ask. Evidently, Frank wasn't well, it was foolish to even ask.

Frank's eyes full of glassy tears penetrated through Gerard. Thankfully, he didn't seem upset by Gerard's entry, only vulnerable curled into his spot on the ground. His tremble made Gerard's heart sink so low that he wasn't certain how to cope with the amount of sympathy falling over him.

"Was my blubbering interrupting your work?" Frank wiped at his glistening face.

"Oh, no, that wasn't why I––" Gerard sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Forgive me if I made it seem that way, Frank, I was merely concerned."

Frank snorted through his tears. "The formalities, I don't think they're necessary, Gerard. We're temporarily living in the same household after all."

Gerard's cheeks tinted pink as he sheepishly bowed his head. "It's become a habit. I was raised to be so proper at all times."

Frank sighed deeply, raising his curled fist to drag it along the remnants of spilled tears. "There's hardly anything wrong with being a gentleman. I was raised wild, I could learn a few things from someone well-mannered such as yourself."

Gerard hesitantly drifted closer as he sensed his presence becoming more welcome as they spoke. "Am I allowed to ask what troubles you?"

Sadness simmered under Frank's gaze he quickly averted. He slowly stretched out his legs in front of him, slumped over in defeat for a long stretch of silence. Then, when he looked up again, he patted the spot beside him in invitation.

Taken aback, Gerard stammered during his instinctive step forward, surprised by his lack of restraint. He looked over his shoulder at the doorway, fearing the presence of Danielle silently watching when he swore he felt her disapproval, but she was nowhere to be found. Supposing it was all subconscious, Gerard hesitantly went over and sank onto the floor beside Frank, keeping a respectful gap between them.

"I compose my own music." Frank commented in a hoarse tone from the tears thick in his throat.

Gerard was astounded. "The masterpieces I've been overhearing are yours?"

Frank's faint smile said he didn't believe his compositions were worthy of such a strongly praising title, but he didn't say it out loud. "I've been put through countless lessons to learn the instruments I wield now. In learning, I found a passion for the art and pursued writing. I wanted to tailor my own stories for others to feel strongly."

"I'm glad you let your passion drive you this way. You have an immense amount of talent, people all over the globe should listen to this prodigal work."

Frank chuckled and looked down. "I'm no weaver of worlds, but I suppose I'm handy at a few things. String instruments... the strings are my one love."

Gerard's gaze sadly drifted to the broken violin resting abandoned across the room. Frank followed his eyes and flinched so harshly it nearly caused Gerard to do the same.

"I don't know why I allow myself to be so destructive." Frank whispered, his voice dripping a forlorn memory trickling down Gerard's spine and filling him with a hollow feeling.

Frank crawled over to the remains of his instrument and cradled the pieces in his lap. His teardrops splattered against the tarnished wood as grief struck him to see what he caused in the aftermath of his hurricane of emotion. Gerard felt as though he was intruding on a father mourning the loss of his child for the way Frank's hands were so delicate stroking the remnants.

"Tell me about it." Gerard asked softly. "Don't suffer in your own mind."

Frank sucked in a shaky inhale.

"I've been trying my hand at creating the sound of my life. The sound which accompanies every moment, every turbulent emotion and every scrap of happiness I've come across." Frank crooned. "And I cannot–- I cannot do it. I don't know how I'm incapable of understanding my own self. Dammit, I'm the only person who can do it right through my craft, but it isn't happening. It needs to be perfect."

Gerard swallowed dryly listening to the troubled ramblings. He wasn't sure what to say or how to react, Frank was far too unpredictable in his strange state, leaving Gerard to wonder what things caused sadness so potent to overcome a soul as young as Frank's. It inspired the words collecting in him as Gerard stood to gather the abandoned violin bow to bring it to Frank, kneeling down beside him.

"Perfection isn't possible to achieve. Perfection doesn't exist, but your music comes as close to it as possible." Gerard stroked over the soft fibers of the violin bow.

"I need it to exist. If it does not, then I feel the urge to invent it. Don't you understand the feeling?" Frank's eyes were pleading, urgent.

"I know that feeling exactly. We may have different crafts, but nonetheless, we're artists. We'll always strive for the impossible and anything we create will never be enough." Gerard paused. "But you must know something before you continue with your composition."

Frank looked to him for answers Gerard gave to him in a heartbeat.

"We never cease learning about ourselves. Our rhythm changes every day. But no one has a better understanding of you than yourself, as you've told me, which is why there's no version more beautiful than yours. Even the version you hate." Gerard slowly held out the bow in offering for Frank to take.

Their eyes connected. Gerard's gut turned over and his heart fluttered up to his throat as he looked into glassy amber jewels laid on a bed of dewy grass. Frank thoughtfully searched Gerard's face as he took the bow from his hands.

"If you knew how much I've witnessed, perhaps you'd know my dissatisfaction with my work." Frank's eyes became unfocused as he cracked a thin smile grown so brittle at the edges, it seemed his mouth might crumble.

Gerard shook his head. "I hear your music so often. I know your suffering."

"The sound of it, yes." Frank's hand landed over Gerard's to give it a gentle squeeze. "The tale will come to you someday. I don't believe it to be possible for you to know the story through its music alone. Unless you think you'd be bored to death by it."

"It would be the opposite. I love the true stories of life, even if some are difficult to stomach." Gerard was attempting not to focus on Frank's touch, the chilly softness of his skin laid over his, contact that wouldn't cease and he didn't desire it to.

"Why is that?"

"There's one thing a writer like myself can't fabricate." Gerard met Frank's exhausted eyes alight with the dimmest hint of intrigue. "The truth. However much real experience can be added into a story, it'll always be a work of fiction."

Frank chuckled softly. "Are you calling yourself a liar, Gerard?"

Gerard sheepishly smiled. "Not exactly. You can trust I'll always be honest with you. I only tell lies when I write."

"Would you tell lies to make a miserable person such as myself feel better, by any chance?"

"I wouldn't ever imagine it."

Frank lifted his hand away from Gerard's to hold out his littlest finger. "Do you promise?"

Gerard's heart softened. He found making a vow of honesty meant a greater deal to Frank than he vocalized, something to clear over the remnants of apprehension so he knew he could be found in the state Gerard discovered him in without fearing Gerard would tell another soul about it.

Gerard linked their pinkies together. "I promise. If I ever break my oath, you'll certainly know it. I'm awful at telling lies to the faces of people I care about."

Frank's sadness remained, but his small smile was as sincere as could be as their hands were held between them, drawing a smile of Gerard's own to his lips. He was no longer sure if the reflection of sun on rivers of pure water was brighter than Frank's smile.

"Frank. What in the world are you doing?" Danielle's severe voice caused them to yank away from each other.

Gerard's heart dropped, taking in the pinched expression on Danielle's face, her eyes dark and damning as she stood in the doorway.

Frank's defeated sigh was nearly silent, but audible to Gerard. "I was just having a conversation with our guest, Danielle. It's hardly a crime."

"You've broken your violin!" Danielle exclaimed, outraged. "Is that how you're meant to treat your possessions?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly." Frank snapped, making Gerard flinch on his behalf. "I treasure my strings, I was too deep into my new composition. Whatever the cost is, it'll be paid from my own pocket to save you the inconvenience."

"I couldn't give a damn about the money, Frank," Danielle stalked into the room and snatched up the remains from Frank's lap. "You insist I stop treating you like a child, but the moment I leave you to your own devices, I come back to destruction."

Frank bolted up to his feet defiantly. "I only insist because I've grown tired of you acting like my mother when you aren't her!"

Gerard reeled back as Danielle's hand sharply came in contact with Frank's cheek. Frank's head snapped to the side and stayed in place out of shock, not a breath slipping out from him. Gerard didn't dare breathe either as the shock settled in and fury began to cloud over. He took a step forward and cut in.

"Miss Boulet, I understand Frank has angered you, but striking him is out of line. He meant no harm." He breathed, appalled by the way things had progressed.

Danielle shot him a look as scathing at the tips of thousands of knives cutting into his skin. Gerard's words of protest died on his tongue and left a metallic taste sending a blinding signal of warning through his body.

"It's no use defending me, Gerard." Frank slowly turned his head, void of all expression aside from the pinched set of his lips held so stiff to keep them from trembling. "An irrational person never learns."

"Clean up this mess." Danielle snapped, her finger darting sharply towards the violin. "I advise you to remind yourself of my limits when guests are under our roof and you take the time to reflect on your impulses, they wreak havoc."

Frank's defiance sparked more shouting. Gerard, overwrought, escaped to his study as his heart pounded unsteadily in his chest. He wasn't sure how things could escalate to cruel measures when Frank spoke of his makeshift family with such affection, affection that was very well returned if he was concealed from the world for the most part. He laid pressed against the door waiting for the exchanged venom to slow to a halt. When a door slammed and hasty footsteps receded, Gerard waited for there to be silence. Once he found it, he opened the door to his study only to be startled out of his skin by Danielle standing there silently, a human depiction of a brewing storm.

"I know for certain my attempts to keep my boy away from guests in this house have been clear as day." Danielle started in a tone so frigid it froze Gerard in place. "I expect you to keep your distance as I expect Frank to keep his."

Beyond words, Gerard's heart uneasily hammered and his palms grew slick. "Miss Boulet, I–– I swear I only meant to check if all was right. I heard something break and the sound of sobs, naturally I was very alarmed––"

Danielle stepped in so her stony face loomed close, shutting Gerard up effectively. "I don't give a damn what you hear or see. Don't you think I know what he's been up to? Seducing you with his clever concoctions and sneaking into your room at night?"

Gerard's tongue felt as if it had been glued to the roof of his mouth as his lips sealed shut, the tips of his ears burning. He felt he ought to be ashamed over something so harmless, yet it evoked a strong reaction from Danielle and lead him to wonder if Frank had ulterior motives he was blissfully unaware of.

Danielle scowled. "You're forbidden from coming near Frank. If you refuse to abide by my rules in this house, Mr. Way, I'm afraid I'll be given no other choice than to ask you to take your leave."

Gerard was at a loss for words. His tongue tangled and laid heavy as led behind his lips as Danielle, satisfied with his pale face and large eyes, briskly turned down the hall and vanished in the maze of corridors.

Gerard knew when to heed to a warning balance on the edges of becoming a threat. If he were to choose between his work and a smoldering infatuation with a young man, Gerard saw there was no choice to be made at all. Forfeiting his project would be abandoning his life's work. Although there was a metallic taste hovering at the back of his throat and an ache splitting down the center of his chest, Gerard turned his back on the hall and slowly shut the door behind him; reluctantly shutting out Frank Iero if he wished to complete the reasons for residing in the house. What he hadn't expected was the way his eyes stung as he sat before his typewriter for the longest hour to ever exist.

--

Days later, Gerard wandered down the corridors tunneling a frigid draft, lacking any source of light as all the candle wicks laid naked and virginal, never having felt the touch of a flame. He followed the sound of the enchanting violin carrying through the household and rousing him from his sleep. His bare feet padded along the long carpets and sometimes the cool floor, not shocking enough of a feeling to ebb away the disorientation making the world curve at an angle before his eyes. Gerard's instinct wasn't to halt and wait for his senses to sharpen or to consider the paths he trekked down, but it was to detect the sound of the music and the reason behind it.

His wandering feet led him to the library. Candelabras were alight with writhing flames bathing the room in a warm glow, cleansing it of ominous shadows always lurking in the corners of the manor. The air was frosty and tingling across Gerard's skin as the sweet sound of the violin filled his ears, but the player couldn't be detected as if enchanting music breathed in the walls. He'd hoped to find Frank awaiting him, illuminated by soft light, drowning in the waves of his own music until his eyes opened and his smile lured Gerard in all over again.

In the center of the room, he focused on the portrait of lady Jessamine. Her immortalized beauty remained at a standstill surrounded by a frame pinned to the wall in her memory. Gerard stared into the twinkle of her eyes somehow remaining alive and captured in the feathery strokes of a brush to instill itself into the portrait.

Gerard shut his eyes for a moment, overcome with grief, and the next moment he opened them, the painting was missing Jessamine.

She'd escaped her frame prison. In the flesh, she stood before the mouth of the fireplace, illuminated by an orange glow flickering over her sea green gown flared out around her in folds of silk. She was exactly as she appeared in the painting, only her smile was a more bewitching thing to behold in person than any memorial of her could retell. Jessamine held her arms out at her sides and gave a graceful twirl. The back of her gown was stained in crimson soiling her fine fabrics and webbing across her hands carelessly waving in the air.

Instead of standing paralyzed in horror, Gerard was drawn to her. He watched her joyfully soak in the music, and as she sensed him near, she turned to him to reach out for his hands, pulling him close. Her smile was friendly and pure, her youthful spirit alive in her almond shaped eyes beaming up at Gerard.

They waltzed through the library to the tune of the jubilant violin. They turned this way and that, gliding along the floor like two embers above a fire, setting the world around them aflame while blissfully unaware of it. Gerard resurrected her the longer his eyes remained on her carefree smile and the wisps of hair escaping her hair held away from her face. Her blood soaked his hands and his garments in a warm sopping mess, but he couldn't draw away from her, knowing she'd disappear again if he did, and the world didn't deserve to be robbed of the life she had to offer. Jessamine's laughter was a timeless sound not to be compared to anything else Gerard had ever come across. It was clear she wasn't of the present, but it didn't scare Gerard.

"Won't you tell Danielle I love her?" Jessamine's voice sounded distant in spite of all things. "I love them all dearly. What a shame, the way we are all balanced on a ticking clock, unaware of when it will strike our final midnight."

"There's been nothing but coldness since you left." Gerard didn't conjure the words himself; they floated past his lips on their own.

Jessamine twirled, her gown moving along with her as fluid as the waves in the ocean. "It's always been cold here. Cruel, odious darkness crawls in the walls. It breathes our air and leaves behind the stench of death. The mice scramble away from it as they would a serpent."

"They want you to come back."

Jessamine's smile was empty. "They have me. As they always will. Just like they'll have you, Gerard."

They waltzed until the fire was spent, until Gerard's legs buckled beneath him, until his breath became ragged and he succumbed to exhaustion. He collapsed onto the ground at Jessamine's feet and through blearily eyes preparing to shut, he saw her step into the portal of her lonely portrait, sitting in her chair and growing cold again in her lifeless form that would never speak again.

When Gerard awoke, he was lopsided in a chair beside the fire that died out overnight. There was evidence of the morning's light as it streamed through the windows, obscured by a gray tint from the gloomy overcast engulfing the sky. His neck was stiff, aching as he jolted out of his sleep suddenly. He winced and massaged at the aching muscles sending a flare of soreness all the way past his shoulder.

Immediately, his eyes flew to the portrait hanging above the fireplace. Jessamine was still in her picture and lifeless in reality, nowhere near close to being the animated woman he waltzed with in his dreams. It felt so vivid that he began considering if it was only his imagination painting a bizarrely real mirage in his sleep or if somehow, Jessamine escaped her canvas and explored Gerard's mind to meet him in his subconsciousness.

"Mr. Way?" Blair's voice materialized nearby.

Gerard was growing so accustomed to being startled that he only flinched a bit at first, following it up with a quiet sigh. He rubbed the remains of sleep from his eyes and looked up to find Blair standing near his chair, curious as to why he was dressed in yesterday's clothes.

"It seems I drifted off while reading last night. Pardon me, I fear I'm not the fairest of sights in the early morning." Gerard self consciously rearranged his posture and raked his fingers through his hair settled in a disarray on his head. He found himself glancing at the painting in the room again, feeling her gaze settling on him despite her eyes being unable to move instilled in oil paints.

Blair paid little mind to Gerard's talk. Her eyes drifted up to the painting as her hands clasped together behind her back, a saddened expression falling over her.

"Did our Jessamine find her way into your dreams?" Blair asked in a haunting whisper sending chills down Gerard's bones.

Gerard froze in his seat, astounded by her intuition. But he couldn't help but note she spoke in a way indicating she was familiar with the phenomena. "Does she often sneak into yours?"

Blair turned, sinking gracefully into the seat adjacent to Gerard, folded hands resting delicately in her lap. Her eyes never strained from the portrait as she analyzed every detail of it. "Of course. Jessamine was ours before she belonged to the angel of death. It feels like so long ago..."

Gerard glanced down and caught sight of the book he'd been reading sprawled on the floor. He picked it up, shutting it and stroking his thumb along the cover. "I'm beginning to feel just as saddened by her absence the longer I stay here despite never knowing her."

"You know of the awful circumstances that took her away?"

"I have. I was also told this library pays homage to her soul." Gerard considered his words before speaking them to soften the blow, praying not to strike a sensitive nerve. "Jealousy is a cruel thing bound to drive the wrong people to madness. There's no justification behind the crime that caused this."

Blair's permanently melancholy eyes drifted away from Jessamine to rest heavy on Gerard. "Is that what you've been told?"

Gerard was bemused by her question. "Yes? Is there another tale that was meant to be told?"

Blair wistfully sighed, her sadness palpable and cold as it encompassed Gerard. "You've been told the fabricated tale. Danielle asks for it to be passed along to keep from spooking our visitors. So she says. I believe the true reason why she avoids telling the truth is her own denial."

Gerard knew the house contained secrets. He felt them under his footsteps, listening to the way they whispered in the cool drafts and the settling of the pipes creaking at ungodly hours. Gerard swallowed as a sudden scratchy feeling lined his throat.

"May I ask what happened to Lady Jessamine?" Gerard was afraid of knowing the answers, yet his curiosity got the better of him, racing ahead of his rationality.

Blair's hands were like a swan gliding along a lake as she smoothed out her dress with a small frown fixed on her full lips. "I do hope you won't ramble about damnation once you know the truth you've asked for, Mr. Way. I believe the insanity that occurs here is strong enough to persuade the strongest of minds. Jessamine was no weak damsel. She only became defenseless in the clutches of this place."

Gerard's hands curled around the armrests of the chair as flashes of his dream played through his memory, specifically her talk about the darkness lurking in the very bones of the manor.

"Jessamine deteriorated mentally here. She was seduced by its charm and was lured in. She loved us, she did, and she loved Danielle most of all, but the call of the house compelled her to stay. And when she stayed, the whispers and the shadows mocked her. She sought out to chase them out, but their retaliation was too much for her to bear. Jessamine climbed to the very roof of the house and gave herself to the earth below."

Gerard's eyes pressed shut. He pictured her in her sea green gown, twirling with the shadow figures atop of the roof, blissfully holding her arms out as she wandered over to the edge and tested gravity, thinking she would fly if she fell. A sickening feeling roiled in him. Gerard did not want to picture the ending.

"I know it's here. This evil, this... this coldness." Gerard choked out. "How can a place filled with this love you speak of be so corrupted?"

Blair gracefully rose to her feet. Her eyes reddened by a glaze of tears looked into the distance, her skin drained of the flush of the living. "You think love is our savior? You're wrong. Even love can't turn us away from envy, greed, rage. Love brightens our world, but it cannot override the darkness."

--

Gerard had spent just about every inch of his energy and sanity blocking out his surroundings to focus on his work. But almost to no avail as he continuously threw pages out, restarted scenes, rearranged timelines and doubted his decisions for the plot. He feared his mind was being corrupted by his growing habits of looking over his shoulder and pretending the things he captured from the corner of his eye weren't appararitions materializing into this realm from another. He dropped his head between his hands to rest his eyes and saw images of a woman plummeting to the ground like a flightless bird. Passages in his novel laid at a standstill and letters from his brother expecting a response would not be met with one any time soon.

He continued to feel the hauntings of Jessamine. The more often she bled into his dreams, the more he strayed from his own mind. Discovering the truth hadn't been a soft blow. All he could envision was the tightness of grief and nothingness bundled in her chest when she decided to sacrifice her life only for it all to stop. Gerard thought about her asking him to tell Danielle how she loved her and he believed it had been a real message from a different plane of existence reaching his dream. He pondered on it, and the more he did, he began questioning their story and Danielle's involvement. Jessamine's eyes were dazed as a kleptomaniac's resting on a pile of vulnerable jewels when she spoke Danielle's name. A desire unfurling and a profound adoration for imminent ownership. Perhaps Danielle's coldness stemmed from something beyond what Gerard could've ever anticipated— not only the grieving of a friend, but the grieving of a love that would never be claimed.

As Gerard felt himself slipping away into the shadow of Jessamine, his slow descent was not a lonely journey. The sound of violence and infuriation rang through the corridors in the form of a song. It aligned with his frustrations and almost felt like a solacing sound, ironically. Gerard held onto the anchor and allowed it to bring him back to his sanity as he stood from his chair and went to the wall dividing him and the music room just beside him. His palms would press against it when all went silent and he found himself imagining Frank doing the same, their hands aligning through the barrier. He'd remember the way his pinky curled around Frank's in a promise of many unspoken things and he couldn't help but hold his chest to keep it from aching as he realized he was forced to break those promises as soon as he made them.

Gerard's breath caught noticing his infatuation didn't come to an end despite being forbidden from going near the young man. The forced distance seemed to worsen matters so he perpetually thought about how Frank remained sane in the house, how he could endure isolation with only one outlet to expel his emotion. Being so concerned with the habits and thoughts of another Gerard wasn't allowed near started to grate under his skin and sink under it. Gerard felt an accumulation of things building and slowly robbing him of the spark that brought him to the manor.

But when he thought about Frank's pain as he so mournfully cradled the broken pieces of his violin in his ginger hands sculpted for music, a phantom resonance of that inspiration awakened inside Gerard. A twisting longing that grew by the day. He dipped his fingers into the shriveled remains of the herbal concoctions Frank gifted to him and knew neither of them would be able to stay separated for long. There was only one way for them to keep their grip on reality.

Gerard set off to the cavernous greenhouse in hopes of finding Frank there. He didn't announce he'd be paying it a visit, unobtrusively slipped away into the foggy sunset. He had no appetite for dinner that would begin an hour from then and he was bound to remain seated in the greenhouse at least until dark clinging onto his hope until it was clear it would not be enlightened.

The greenhouse was hushed as the plants reveled in their fulfillment at the end of a day gleaming with sunshine they happily soaked in. Gerard trekked down the paths slowly and his eyes wandered all over. He counted every plant he came across, headed towards the macabre display he found Frank at when their eyes met and lingered for the first time, but his heart sank with disappointment to find nothing but his absence beyond them.

Until the sound of the greenhouse doors opening across the makeshift garden tore Gerard from his low spirits. He turned immediately to find Frank slipping in with large eyes, his chest heaving like he'd sprinted out of the manor. The doors heavily shut behind him and silence fell over the building apart from Gerard's breath catching. They stared for a while, wordless and secretly pleased by each other's presence.

"I was eager to check on my collection." Frank announced. The obvious lie was charming, the way he wouldn't admit he'd seen Gerard slip away and followed after him the way Gerard would have if the roles were reversed.

"I was simply resting my mind." Gerard played along. He watched a smile slowly creep onto Frank's face in response to the lightness. Immediate relief spread over him and seeped out some of the growing gloom.

"It seems our sudden urges to break away from the manor rests in our favor." Frank slowly began making his way down the path. "Unless Danielle finds us and slaughters us both."

"I much prefer believing fate isn't so unforgiving."

Frank's fingers brushed against the petals of the violets glistening in droplets of dew, a strange look passing over his face. "So you believe in fate, Gerard?"

"Why else would life be so unpredictable?' Gerard asked, taking his own steps forward when sudden impatience fell over him. He longed to be closer.

Frank's eyes glistened mysteriously, a smile working at his lips. "And you think this encounter is fate."

"If fate has a name, then it must be yours. Unless you'd like to admit you saw me making my escape and decided to follow after me." Gerard's smile he mostly held in managed to surface in the faintest hint at the corners of his mouth.

Watching pink matching the peonies planted in the greenhouse spread through Frank's cheeks was nothing short of mesmerizing. Frank drew his hand away from the flowers and took the final steps to close the large gap standing between himself and Gerard.

"You've been leaving out your discarded pages instead of tossing them." Frank noted. "I imagine that was intentional after I suggested you do so for me."

"As dissatisfied as I am with my work at the moment, at least one person in the world can read it and find something promising in its discarded passages." Gerard sighed, a bit soured to be taken back to his prior troubles.

"I can't imagine what curse has befallen you for you to believe any of those pages aren't worthy of being appreciated by other pairs of eyes apart from only ours." Frank's brow crinkled. "But it's like something plagues your mind when you write these days. I sense a shift in the novel's atmosphere."

Gerard swallowed hard. "What kind of shift?"

Frank looked down, shaking his head a bit. "It's like the color is being drained. So much gloom and dread, less fear and anticipation for the next events."

Gerard hated his real life reflected so much in his writing, which was something he never imagined would happen. Experience shaped a marvelous writer, but not the kind he currently endured.

"I've been striving to work away from the things that overcast the best of my creativity. It's easy to tell I've failed thus far, isn't it?" Gerard chuckled bitterly. "Sometimes, I wish I'd been born with a different passion. Music, science, invention."

"You don't know how the gift of writing brightens someone's soul." Frank said surprisingly softly, passing Gerard by in the direction of his collection he treasured so.

Gerard turned and watched Frank descend down the path until he reached his destination, fingertips running along the glass with a breath's space between them so no marking would smear.

"Light can be dimmed. Even the sun sets every evening." Gerard followed after Frank instead of watching from afar.

"And what dims your light?" Frank's eyes wheeled away from his precious collectibles to weigh in on Gerard, observing him to gain answers to his question. An inkling shadowed over his eyes like bottle green fragments of glass held up against sunlight. An eclipse in its most human form.

"This house." Gerard felt the pressure of the house's presence pushing down on his chest as he dared to point blame in its direction. He gathered a stuttering breath and paddled on. "All signs have pointed in the same direction. They all tell me something like a curse is settled over the roof."

Frank swiftly looked away. A mirthless sound escaped him, his face out of sight so Gerard couldn't read it. "A curse? A curse is a child's word. It reminds me of enchantresses and the dark arts. There's no magic in this house, Gerard, it couldn't be more lacking of it."

"Then what makes the air so heavy?" Gerard reached out to wrap his fingers around Frank's thin wrist as he moved to place more space between them, eliciting a soft gasp from him.

Frank's hand went rigid, fingers curling. He turned over his shoulder, eyes wild and yearning to spill out every facet of the truth corrupting his mind's knowledge. He abstained, to Gerard's misfortune. His tongue flitted briefly over his lips as he turned his body towards Gerard, stepping close to him.

"The house lives off of its nocturnal rapture. It gains pleasure from your fear and grows stronger with every bit of your sanity it consumes." Frank expelled the words in a hushed tone of voice, unblinking eyes boring into Gerard's. "Many claim the walls breathe. They think the house took a life of its own. But whatever enters and never leaves is the true source of living. All it takes is one person to pay any place an eternal visit."

Frank reclaimed his wrist from Gerard's grip. He took a step back, not moving his piercing stare for a second as he protectively curled in on a carnivorous plant encased in smooth glass. "The more you turn from its darkness, the more it yearns for you. It became greedy after its first taste. It should never have seen death in all of its putrid glory."

Gerard's insides frosted over. He knew death lined the foundation and sank under the floorboards. He witnessed the remnants of it and the hunger within the house as it craved to have more of it. Gerard tightly shut his eyes for a moment chasing away a growing fear that the reason it tormented him was all with the intention of turning him into its next victim.

"How is it that you've all managed to keep your sanity intact while living here?" Gerard bursted out with a question the second it blossomed in his mind.

Frank didn't answer. He petted the glass in front of him in ghostly touches, eyes drifting far past the present and seeing into his mind turning over and over. Gerard wasn't so easily dismissed. He opened his mouth to ask again, his hands trembling, but Frank suddenly spoke over him.

"We've endured enough suffering to count as the dead." Frank whispered. "Wasted. Hollow. What could a place like this gain from people like us?"

Gerard's mouth remained slightly parted as a ragged breath streamed out of him. He was stunned by the pang of surprise and sorrow striking him in the center of his chest as he detected the lifelong sadness twirling through Frank's words and making them all the more tangible.

Frank moved away from the collection of plants, floating along the path and silently moving past Gerard again. He paused midway with his head turned in the direction of the sunset reflecting off the greenhouse glass in glares of tangerine and peach.

"Come away with me for a little while." Frank's words were almost too quiet to be heard, but due to the way Gerard always anticipated his next action, he heard them immediately.

So Gerard did. The pair slipped away silently, guarding their movements and being alert of their surroundings in case they were discovered. Frank whisked Gerard away into the thick greenery of the woods, submerging deeper past the deteriorating branches crookedly sticking out between the lush leaves and past the snuffling deer hiding behind mossy boulders. The soft mist rising from the damp earth was fresh against Gerard's skin and smelled of earth kissed by rain.

They halted near the bubbling river furthest from the house. The rocks wedged into the sediments at the bottom of the body of water were large enough to bob at the surface, making a direct path across. Gerard was startled by Frank leaping onto the rocky trail, balancing with his arms held out as he hopped from rock to rock to make it to the other side. Gerard worried he'd stumble and slip into the icy water to be carried off for miles, but as Frank waited on the opposite side with his hand held out to him, Gerard found himself eagerly following his lead. His foot almost slipped twice, but his resolve was more successful than his errors. His hand was encased in the chill of Frank's resembling the mist that surrounded them, but he was far more than a fleeting film.

Frank sank down by the roots of a large London plane tree with a hollowed out and gaping trunk to settle into. Gerard looked up at the fluttering leaves before he settled onto the dirt beside Frank. There was more quiet in that small space as the trunk curved around them and shielded them from view.

"I often wander into these woods when I shouldn't." Frank tilted his head back and lightly caressed the bark of the tree with his fingertips. "It's a wonder I haven't gotten petrifyingly lost."

Gerard mimicked Frank's motion, stroking the bark that was coarse and textured beneath his touch. "I used to like playing in the woods with my brother when we were young. Younger, I suppose. My mother would have a fit if we wandered out too far and she'd send a whole search party out for us. Such a hassle for a pair of children having nothing better to do than inspect strange rocks and insects on the ground."

Frank's wistful chuckle had no echo in the haven they nestled in. "It's a great adventure when you're terribly bored. I mostly come out here to breathe. Something is so boundless about this place. I can walk such a short distance and feel miles away from home."

Gerard knew the feeling as he inspected his surroundings, breathed the dewy air and felt the softness of the earth under the heels of his shoes digging into it absentmindedly. The woods were tranquil despite their ominous atmosphere at first glance. It was yet another example of deceiving appearances.

"I cannot help but think you harbor more unhappiness in you than you're willing to acknowledge if you so often need to rush to a place like this only to breathe." Gerard wondered out loud. He felt it was beyond being an inappropriate analysis when Frank made such close observations about Gerard's work, how his moods and turmoil affected it.

"Don't we all have things that trouble us?" Frank frowned dismally.

"Of course. Ceaseless happiness is impossible to obtain. If it were so easy, those suffering from melancholia would find their cure instantly."

"Don't be mistaken, Gerard. I enjoy my life. The rest, if I do not revel in it as much, it's withstandable and there are many other things to compensate for the small moments of discontent." Frank's eyes swept over the land as he pressed his palms to it, fingers digging in the slightest bit. "But there have been matters that cause me to feel unsatisfied. Perhaps unsatisfied is too light of a word... there is an emptiness."

Gerard's brow crinkled and he asked softly, "An emptiness?"

Frank's fingers broke through the earth and immediately withdrew the second he felt it. He wiped his hands carelessly along his perfectly tailored trousers and looked out in the distance, eyes big and glassy.

"I had a family before the one you know now." Frank whispered. "My mother was the only one with decency in her heart. She coddled me, as plenty of loving mothers do, and that is a memory I can't ever forget no matter how faint it is considering how young I was. Just a babe, then an innocent child, growing into a young man she could take pride in. She instilled so much knowledge in me and taught me how to be kind when there is nothing but cruelty surrounding me. These are virtues not all learn. But while I wish all of my heart was pure like hers, the unfavorable part of myself stems from my one true hate."

The darkness inching into Frank's voice chilled the warmth he created describing his mother with love. His jaw was tight, lips curled in distaste around the words he spoke next.

"My father." Frank spat. "Unworthy of the title. He wasn't fit to be a father. As much as I adored my mother, her choice to settle down with that man was terribly unwise. Perhaps in the past, he was pleasant to be near, compelling enough to land himself a wife, but he soured over time like a forgotten fruit. My love for him would decay the same as the years passed enduring his terrible treatment, his absence, and his every attempt to belittle my mother until she was a feeble and insecure thing hidden away in our house."

Gerard nodded gravely. "Some men are despicable. They don't deserve the precious treasure of a family."

"My father was no exception. When my mother fell ill, it was so like him to only turn to faith for selfish reasons, hoping not to be stuck with his child. I was given no sympathy or support on the day she passed. I sensed my abandon was imminent days before she passed, and once she left this earth, my father's neglect made me feel lonelier than I ever felt in my life.

"My father has a distaste for my... romantic interests. My mother was the only person who could understand. I never knew such hatred could exist in a person until the day he found out. Well, just as I suspected, he had enough of the burden of being responsible for a child. He had me sent away to my severe aunt to be whipped back into shape. Hoping her tactics of discipline would transform me into a burly man searching for a pretty wife to be unfaithful to.

"And so the labor began. I was enslaved to an enormous house meant to practically live as a slave. If a dish was not polished enough or if I missed a spot scrubbing the floors, I'd be punished in ways you cannot imagine, Gerard. I won't provide you with foul mental images." Frank broke off in the middle of his sentence as his breath caught, a flash of reminiscent pain sweeping over him.

"How have you survived living this way?" Gerard was bewildered, heavy-hearted imagining the suffering Frank endured all while he was so young.

Frank tilted his head up, shutting his eyes. "I barely have. I spent years of my youth in all sorts of pain. There would always be the absence of love in my life after my mother left this world behind. My father made no attempts to contact or check on me. My aunt clearly had no love in her heart to be abhorrent enough to harm me in the ways she did. I knew that if I continued to live there, I'd never be given my freedom. There was no possible change to be made. So, I decided to make my escape. I managed to steal her skeleton key and use it to my advantage in the dead of night, racing off onto the streets with little to my name, only the clothes on my back and the brokenness I carried with me.

"I lived on the streets for weeks just as winter approached. I was hardly alive from starvation and illness. I felt my lungs being corrupted by the cold, so severely that every breath was a bloody gasp. If I'd stayed any sooner, my sanity would slip from me and I'd become a walking loon rambling nonsensically, destined to become a corpse the town would sweep away to avoid unsettling its precious privileged people. I was invisible to every person I knew was capable of helping– until I no longer yearned for the merciful eyes of a tender stranger. I longed to deteriorate as soon as possible so I could reunite with my mother. Of course, when death came knocking at my door, it was not peaceful."

The tear slipping from the corner of Frank's closed eye was a beady crystal glistening in a trail as it slipped across his cheek. Gerard almost felt a phantom sensation of it upon his own face.

"There was a group of men. Drunk off their assses and sniffing out fresh blood. I was too weak to do anything about it; I allowed it to happen. I'd suffered blows and worse, I cried out to God for abandoning me in the moments I felt them, but at that moment, I had no God to speak to. There must've been no such thing if this was my life. The life of others before and after myself. There was no kind lord and savior if I was left for dead on the streets in a puddle of my own blood.

"Until Danielle found me." Frank wiped his tear trail, his lids fluttering back to observe the way it dripped from one fingertip to another. "As much as we bicker, I do love her and I'm eternally grateful to her for saving me. She scooped me up off the streets and took me to her home to nurse me back to health. She tells me now that her heart shattered seeing how young I was, and beautiful, and she was compelled to do everything in her power to rescue me from an untimely death. She paid for doctors to perform treatments on me and to feed me antidotes diminishing my illness until its existence dissipated. It took months, but eventually, I healed and was no longer bedridden. She welcomed me into her family and told me I'd never be alone again. She'd become my mother, and Odette and Blair and Jessamine my sisters."

Gerard understood Frank's endurance of the unpleasant collisions he had with Danielle. Frank's heart had grown to absorb her love and with acceptance came affection of his own upon his gratitude. Had she never crossed his path, Frank wouldn't be breathing in the present; a most horrific thought.

"She gave you a new life." Gerard said softly. "One without pain or negligence. Is that why you tolerate her overprotectiveness so much?"

"I understand her. Danielle isn't capable of having children–– yet she always wanted one. I'm not terribly younger than her, but she views me as a child. One she raised and sculpted, in a way. I've been far more educated and wise ever since she taught me how to live as my own person, not as anyone's outlet for their rage." Frank's eyes searched and found Gerard's pinned to him. "I hadn't known how to live for myself. I only knew how to live for others and for the hope of freedom. I discovered my talents and passions here. And I found the love that abandoned me so long ago."

Gerard's hands twitched while curled up in his lap as another tear slipped down the curve of Frank's cheek to settle at the corner of his rosy lips. A yearning to reach forward and wipe it away as he felt the significance of it; the droplet held the weight of his past, and it became so heavy with it that it traveled down to the point of his chin to fall onto his shirt.

"But there will always be emptiness." Frank choked softly. "And I will always feel the disgusting part of myself that is like him. Something selfish, something bitter and angry."

"No," Gerard automatically breathed. One hand defied his restraint and extended outward to brush against the corner of Frank's jaw. Frank didn't flinch away from his touch, he only yielded to it. Gerard's thumb swiped at the liquid trail of tears remaining on his skin. "You may have the smallest part of him in you. What flows through the blood cannot be extracted. But you will never be like him, Frank. Never. You have your mother in you as well and her light will always shine through first."

Frank's trembling lips parted the slightest bit as a shaking breath escaped him. He nodded jerkily, shut his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch curling around his face. Gerard's heart ached as a fresh tear pooled at the pad of his thumb, separating and trailing down to Frank's lips. Gerard wasn't rational wrapped up in his emotion. He patted away the teardrop lingering at Frank's lips and nearly gasped at the softness he encountered, the heat of a fanning breath streaming through the subtle part. Frank's eyes flashed open, as wide and bright as the unwavering stare of an owl.

"Hold me." Frank whispered.

Gerard couldn't refuse. Gerard swept Frank into his arms in the minimal space. Frank's head rested upon his shoulder as Gerard's arms wrapped around his slender form ridden with the faintest tremble. His breath was short and his heart pounded at the close contact, the softness of Frank's hair brushing against his skin and the way his body fit perfectly into the cradle of his arms. Gerard was soothed equally by their embrace and shut his eyes to bask in Frank's closeness, the heat soaking through the cold, something forbidden in a way that couldn't override the temptation. It became evident to him that they needed each other to chase the darkness from their heads.

"Perhaps fate is at play here as you said." Frank's lips brushed against Gerard's neck as he spoke. "Perhaps it persuaded us to defy the rules and find each other."

Fate wasn't to be taken lightly; but all signs pointed towards Gerard's visitation becoming far more than its original intention. His rising instinct was to listen to the haunting weeping raining down from the ceiling and the violin bleeding through the floorboards to coil around Gerard's body, caressing, and drawing him to the performer displaying the most devilish smile over anguished eyes.

Whatever polluted Gerard's blood was bound to consume him. He breathed in every trace of it exuding from Frank and curled into the shape of his body, wishing to melt into it and shield him from the tormenting past awaiting behind his eyes each time they fell closed.