"Who the fuck are you?" Gerard replied, his voice strained. The boot-clad foot pressed harder into his throat, and Gerard raised his hand with the gun, only for it to be knocked out of his hand. He heard it slide away from him, but before he could do much with his arms, they were pinned above his head. "Fucking hell - what the fuck? Are you insane?!"

"Shut up." The voice snapped, his foul-smelling breath hitting Gerard's face and making him gag (for an entirely different reason than he was used to).

He tried to break free, but his captor only straddled his waist and pressed a hand to his throat. He tried to scratch at the hand, but it only pressed harder, slowly cutting off the air to his lungs.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, princess."

Princess? Princess?! How fucking dare he?! He was no princess, thank you very much.

He swung his hand and - somehow, though he'd never know how because trying to swing for someone when you're getting the breath choked out of you is hard work - managed to punch the boy right in the face. The boy cursed, his knife slipping and his hands flying to his face. Gerard managed to shift the weight off of him, stumbling to his feet, his movements fatigued and clumsy. He snatched up his gun and pointed it at the figure, ready to fire if he had to. His cheek stung, and he was more than likely to be bleeding.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" Gerard cried, his chest heaving.

"Maybe if you hadn't snuck around and caught me off guard, I wouldn't have had to do that." The boy replied, stepping towards Gerard. Suddenly, the beam of a flashlight was shone onto his face, and he squinted against it. The boy made a sound of approval, directing the beam up and down his body, before switching it off. "You got any candles?"

Gerard slowly lowered the gun. "Why?"

"Because I want to play croquet with them." Gerard rolled his eyes. "Haven't you noticed that it's a little dark?"

"Well if you know how to get the power on, by all means, be my guest."

"I prefer candlelight."

"That makes it sound like you're turning this into something romantic."

There was a pause. "Lead the way, princess."

Gerard sighed, gritting his teeth, and he reluctantly led the boy upstairs to the bedroom in which he'd been attempting to sleep. At the door, the boy stopped, making a noise of disgust.

"What the fuck is that?!" He left Gerard, heading towards the other room, and he pushed open the door. Gerard followed, not wanting to step into the room of the disgusting smell, but he didn't have much of a choice. The boy - a teenager, most likely - was like an easily-distracted kid, and would probably get into a lot of trouble if he was left to his own devices. "Dude - is that a body?"

"I don't know. I don't want to look."

The boy - teenager, asshole, whatever; it was all the same to Gerard - shone his flashlight on the lump, and the smell hit Gerard in a fresh wave. The off-white sheets were stained red, and the source of the curious buzzing sounds were confirmed as the two spotted flies hovering around the area.

"Cool!" The boy breathed, like a ten-year-old in awe of his older brother being able to do backflips on his bicycle. He stepped in, but Gerard grabbed his arm.

"You don't know what that is." He said, and the boy scoffed.

"I'm gonna find out."

"That is probably the worst idea in the world."

"No it isn't." He wriggled free from Gerard, heading over towards the bed, still shining the damn flashlight onto it, and he grinned, reaching out a finger to prod the lump. "This is so cool."

"You're weird." In the faint light, Gerard could see that the boy had lots of messy dark hair, a smattering of tattoos, and, most curiously, an eyepatch over his left eye. He was wearing a vest that probably used to be a t-shirt, with ripped jeans, and Gerard wondered where the hell he'd been and what he'd been doing before he'd crashed into the house - and into Gerard - like some sort of wrecking ball.

Eyepatch-boy snorted, prodding the lump once more. "What are you, a kindergartener? You're weird." He mimicked Gerard's voice, raising an eyebrow, before slowly peeling back the sheet. He grinned even wider, moving the flashlight's beam over the body, the decomposing body, the very sight and smell making Gerard gag and back away. "Baby." The teenager muttered, almost examining the body. "Hey, it's not a zom."

"Don't say that." Gerard choked out, making the boy look at him.

"Don't say what? Zom? Zombie. That's what they are, right?"

"Yeah, but it just sounds...gross." Gerard shook his head. "Besides, you wanted candles."

The boy looked torn, wanting to stay with the body but at the same time wanting candles. With a small groan, he put the sheet back and followed Gerard into the other bedroom. He flopped onto the bed while Gerard, albeit perplexed, rummaged in his bag for candles and matches. He set them on the nightstand and sat beside the stranger, lighting them up and letting their faces be bathed in flickering candlelight.

"So what's your name, princess?" He was asked, and he scowled.

"Don't call me princess, asshole." He replied, watching as the boy grinned, resting back on his palms.

"Don't call me asshole, princess."

"Fuck off." There was silence for a few seconds, and then Gerard sighed. "I'm Gerard. Gerard, Gee, whatever. Not princess."

"Well, princess -" the boy swiped at Gerard's cheek with his thumb, making him wince and jerk back. "- you have blood on your face."

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" The boy's eyebrow rose - singular, because of that strange eyepatch - an innocent look on his face. "It was yours, pirate boy."

Pirate boy scowled, holding his knife up in warning. "My name is Frank - never call me pirate boy ever again."

Gerard's eyebrows shot up, a smirk rising on his face. "Why not? Princess and pirate boy, a tale of two survivors."

"Just don't." The boy, who now had a name, and that name was Frank, snarled. Gerard still preferred pirate boy, but he didn't fancy getting his face chopped up, so Frank it was. "Have you got any food?"

"I might do, but you're not fucking having it."

"Why not?"

"Because you tried to kill me!"

"It was self-defence!"

Gerard scoffed. "So that's what it was! You'll have to let me know so I remember next time." He patted Frank's knee, making the teenager swipe at his hand. "So why did you try to kill me, kid?"

"Okay, to start with, I'm not a kid." Frank said, tossing his hair. "Second, I needed a place to stay. I found the house, I entered it. Didn't think there was anyone in here. Same as you, no doubt - hiding from dark, hiding from zoms."

"Don't say that." Gerard protested, screwing his nose up. He looked at Frank, who tilted his head to the side a little.

"Say what?" He said, batting his eyelashes.

"Fuck off." Gerard pulled one of the cans from his bag, relieved to see it was a ring-pull. He retrieved a spoon also, noticing Frank's hungry eyes - eye, singular - on him. "What?"

"Selfish asshole." Frank muttered, but the taller of the two simply shrugged, opening the can and spooning some of the cold cheese-pasta mix into his mouth.

"I wish we had, like, a microwave or something." He said, once he'd swallowed. "This shit tastes so much better when it's warm."

Frank stayed silent, thinking. Then he slowly got to his feet, and he headed downstairs. He returned carrying a backpack of his own, and he sat down with it in his lap. For some obscure and strange reason, he pulled out a band-aid and a wet wipe.

"Come here, princess." He said, and Gerard narrowed his eyes.

"What did I say about calling me that?" He said, with a mouth full of pasta.

"Just come here."

"I'll patch my own face up, thanks." He set his can and spoon on the rotting nightstand, taking the wipe and the band-aid. "How come you've got the patch?"

There was silence from Frank as Gerard dabbed at his face, sticking on the band-aid with ease. Instead of speaking in reply to the question, he answered with one of his own.

"How old are you, Gerard?"

The way his name fell from Frank's lips made his heart stutter, his accent accentuating the different sounds of the word. For a minute, Gerard couldn't reply - he was too busy making sure he'd gotten the band-aid in the right place.

"Twenty-three." He said, picking up his can once more. "I don't quite know what the date is so I don't know when I'll be twenty-four." He poked at his food with his spoon, frowning. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Frank replied all too easily, and Gerard realised with a jolt that he'd be three years younger than his brother, who had seemed like a teenager to him, despite being twenty and wiser than anyone he ever knew.

Gerard fell silent, his previous hunger fading away, and soon he was left with a half-finished can of macaroni cheese. Not even bothering to look up from his lap, he just held the can in Frank's direction, and the teenager gladly snatched it up. He wolfed the meal down as if it was his first in days - and, of course, it was; being alone on the road was difficult for someone like him, someone so small and scrawny and all too easy to pick on.

"Thank you." Frank said, once the pasta was eaten and the can was set onto the floor. "You didn't have to give that to me, y'know."

Gerard shrugged. "I got full."

Frank frowned, sensing the lie, but of course he wasn't that stupid, so he didn't push it, instead crossing his short legs and folding his arms. "What are you thinking about?"

The elder didn't reply for some time, not really sure what he was thinking about. Some of it was his brother, but some of it was his mom, and the - the zombies (he shuddered), and this strange stranger.

"Sleep." He said, eventually, and he lay down on the sheets, his back to Frank, closing his eyes. "Sleep wherever you want." He told the teenager, who shrugged and lay beside him, his eye running up and down his back.

Predictably, the younger fell asleep first, and Gerard listened to his slow breathing and occasional soft snoring as he himself tried to shut down for the night. But if he couldn't sleep before, he really couldn't sleep now, and he sighed to himself as he blew the candles out, preparing himself for another accidental all-nighter.

~

He didn't know what the time was, but Frank had a watch, and Frank's watch said six-thirteen in the morning, and the sun was rising so it was probably right. After all, his own had stopped working a long time ago.

The kid was still asleep, and Gerard rolled his eyes as fatigue washed over him, making him barely able to sit up. But he couldn't sleep now; if he slept now, his entire pattern would be messed up, and he didn't want that. That would be annoying, and pointless, and besides, daylight was for walking. Nighttime was for sleeping. Apparently.

He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, which was tangled, and he expelled a great sigh. He had managed to fall asleep for a total of an hour and a half, and really, that was progress, because he often didn't sleep at all and that made him clumsy and grouchy and unbearable to be around.

He wanted to leave, probably should leave, but there was the small matter of pirate boy beside him, who was sleeping as easily as if he wasn't plagued by nightmares or thoughts of his brother being dead - or worse. He considered shaking Frank awake, asking him if he wanted to join him on his quest - Gerard liked calling it a quest, it made him feel heroic of sorts - but decided against it. It would just be better to get up and go.

And besides, the kid was asleep, and sleep was so hard to come by these days that it was almost a luxury, and it was something to hold onto when you had it. Gerard envied the ease with which Frank slept, sighing to himself because it wasn't that easy for him, and surely he was going to pass out soon because of it.

He was just re-lacing his boots when he heard movement behind him, and he turned to see Frank rubbing his eye and sitting up. His hair was sticking up, and he promptly flattened it down, a scowl at his lips. He caught sight of Gerard, who stood, straightening his shirt.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I have to." Gerard replied.

"You don't have to do anything." Frank swung his legs off the bed, stretching his short frame. "Where are you going?"

The elder picked up his backpack, hooking one strap over his shoulder and biting his lower lip. "I'm not sure. I'm just going to keep walking, like I do every day."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"You - you don't have to."

Frank rolled his eyes, picking up the candles and shoving them into his bag. "It's not like I have anything else to do, princess. Besides, two is better than one, especially against zombies."

Gerard cringed. "Stop saying that! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Frank simply laughed, heading towards the door. "C'mon, princess. Let's go be the survivors you so gallantly described."

"And end up finding another shitty house with another dead body."

"Can we take it with us?" Frank's face lit up, like he'd been offered a puppy, and Gerard fixed him with an 'are you for real?' look.

"No. The dead body stays here."

"But -"

"No, Frank. Now get out."

Frank groaned, but headed down the stairs, shooting a wistful look towards the second bedroom on the way. And so they set off, off to start an adventure as pirate boy and princess, off to save the world...

...in a companionship that would probably last about ten minutes.

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