"What do you mean, it's not politically correct?"

Gerard rolled his eyes, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulders. "It's not politically correct to call them zombies."

"What are we supposed to call them then, flesh-eating monsters?"

"Call them, like, the undead or something?"

Frank laughed, kicking at what used to be a possum. "The undead? I swear that's what vampires are supposed to be."

"Vampires don't even exist." Gerard grabbed his arm, pulling him along. "And leave the fucking possum alone. It's been traumatised enough without you prodding it."

Frank whined, scuffing his shoes in the dirt as the reached the edge of a forest. "Are we -"

Gerard whirled around, stopping them in their tracks. "I swear, if you ask me if we're there yet, I'm going to decapitate you and leave your head for the possums to find."

Frank rose a cynical eyebrow. "With a spoon?"

"With your own knife." He patted the waistband of his jeans, and consequently, his gun. "And don't forget what I have in here."

"A dick?"

Gerard's fist swung and hit Frank in the face, only this time it actually knocked him out, leaving the teenager sprawled on the forest floor. He blinked, flexing his fingers, and he swallowed heavily.

"Whoops." He muttered, before bending down and throwing Frank over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

He wasn't particularly heavy, but it wasn't as if he was feather-light either. Gerard, not being all that strong, groaned and grunted as he made his way through the forest, the unconscious teenager over his shoulder.

It was like a scene from a movie, only Gerard wasn't covered in blood and Frank wasn't a hot girl with a zombie bite (he shuddered). He wasn't rescuing the damsel in distress, and he wasn't taking them both to safety. He'd accidentally knocked Frank out and was leading them through a forest - hardly chivalrous or daring, if he was perfectly honest.

He hoped that the irritating teenager would wake soon - if he had killed him (with a punch in the face?), he'd feel more than guilty. He was terrible with dead bodies, which had been proved in the past, and Mikey had mocked him more than once for it.

It took almost an hour, but Gerard eventually reached the other end of the forest, which opened out onto a long stretch of road. Frank was still unconscious, the trickle of blood that had run from his nose dried up, and Gerard was beginning to get hungry. He continued to walk, however, following the road to the right and seeing nothing but trees and a few birds.

Truthfully, he didn't really know where he was going; he'd had a GPS but it had broke a long time ago, so for all he knew he could've been going around in circles and getting further and further away from his brother. The thought made him stop, his stomach churning, and he bit his lower lip, looking around. He didn't know where Mikey could be, and he could've been getting further and further away from him every day. He didn't even know if Mikey was alive. Seeing if Mikey was alive was the only thing he was living for.

He set Frank down on the floor, and he sat beside him. He could've used water to wake him, but he needed that water, it was getting hot, and his mouth was dry, and water was hard to come by. So he waited. Because Frank might just have some answers.

~

He looked down, and saw that he was Gerard but not quite Gerard, and he couldn't smell his own decay but others could. And someone was screaming his name but it wasn't really registering, the voice muffled as if he was underwater.

He was breathing but at the same time he wasn't, his heart wasn't pumping, but he was walking, shuffling, groaning. In the distance there was a figure, a tall, skinny, familiar figure. It screamed his name, and Gerard groaned in response, shuffling closer to the figure.

Their face was bloody, glasses cracked, and it - he - was holding his arm as if it was broken. But it wasn't broken, it was badly cut, blood oozing from the wound and dripping between his fingers. Gerard could smell him, smell his flesh, and if he'd been alive and human and functioning properly, his mouth would've watered. He wasn't scared. He was hungry.

"Gerard! Gerard stop! Stop this! Please!" The figure had tears running down his face, and he fell to his knees, cowering away from Gerard. But Gerard wasn't confused. He wasn't hurt. He was just hungry and unaware.

He advanced towards the young man, who was weeping softly and didn't have the energy to get up and run. If Gerard could feel emotion, he'd be glad. He was hungry. It was easy food. Not to mention it would keep him alive.

"Don't do this!" The young man looked up at Gerard, who was almost upon him. "Gee, I know you're in there - I'm your brother, don't do this to -" he was cut off with a scream as Gerard descended on him, ripping him apart.

~

When Gerard's eyes snapped open, his heart was beating fast, the back of his neck was sticky with sweat, and the sun was just beginning to set. He registered all of this in the point-five seconds it took for him to realise that Frank's face was really close to his, and he jumped, startled. It ended up in them clashing heads, and Gerard swore loudly, still too tired to really remember where he was.

"You're awake then." He grumbled, sleepily admiring the wonderful bruise that was forming on Frank's cheekbone.

"So are you." The younger sat back, straddling Gerard's legs, which were stretched out. He was sat on his knees, the big, hazel-green eye that Gerard could see wide and inquisitive. "And you were groaning in your sleep. Were you having a wet dream, Gerard?"

"Fuck off!" Gerard shoved the boy off of him, his face flushing scarlet.

Frank's lips rose as he righted himself, kneeling beside Gerard instead of on him. "You were, weren't you?"

"No I fucking wasn't!" Gerard rubbed his forehead, which still hurt, before running a hand through his hair - sticky at the back of his neck - and grimacing. "It was...a nightmare."

Frank arched an eyebrow, nodding as if he didn't believe him in the slightest. "It's okay, I won't judge you." He patted Gerard's knee, reversing the gesture from the previous night. The elder swiped at his hand, and the younger laughed, moving so he was sat cross-legged on the grass. "Where are we?"

"You say that like I actually fucking know." Frank shrugged. "Well I have no idea, I just kept walking with you over my shoulder like the fat bastard you are."

"You wouldn't have had to carry me over your shoulder like the fat bastard I apparently am if you hadn't thought it would be a good idea to punch me in the fucking face."

Gerard rolled his eyes, muttering, "Drama queen." in response, before rummaging in his bag for two cans of something and absentmindedly handing one to Frank. The teenager's eye lit up like a kid at Christmas, and he looked like he was about to kiss Gerard, judging by his expression. The only problem was that they would have to share the fork, but Frank didn't exactly mind; he'd eat with his bare hands if it meant food.

"So, uh, where are you going?" Frank said, as Gerard lifted a mouthful of baked beans towards his mouth.

"I told you." He replied. "I don't know."

"No, like..." He played with the ring-pull on his can, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. "Do you have a goal or something? Or are you a Wanderer?"

"A Wanderer?" Gerard paused once again, a bean in danger of falling off the fork.

"Someone who drifts from place to place, not really sure where they are or where they're going. Someone who's just surviving. Someone waiting for something to happen." Frank's eye met both of Gerard's. "Someone waiting for someone else to come along."

Gerard lowered his can and his fork, biting the inside of his cheek as he debated whether to admit to Frank his actual goal. "I'm not a Wanderer."

"What are you then? What are you doing?"

He vaguely noticed Frank leaning closer as he stuffed a forkful of beans into his mouth, and he swallowed heavily before speaking. "I'm looking for my brother." He said reluctantly, dropping his gaze to the dying grass. "He disappeared some time ago and I've been looking for him since."

"Your brother?"

Gerard shot him a glare. "Yes, Frank, that's why I said my brother and not my dog."

"All right, princess. Keep your tiara on." He flattened his hair, keeping it further over his eyepatch. "What happened? Do you know why he disappeared?" Gerard shrugged, not offering much of an explanation, which caused Frank to sigh. "Do you know where he went?"

"Of course not, otherwise I would've found him by now."

"Well you might know, I don't know!" He threw his hands into the air, can and all. "Eat your fucking beans, they'll get cold."

Gerard flipped him off, wolfing down the last few beans in the can. It wasn't as if he was particularly hungry; he just needed something to do, with his hands and his mouth, because he was so close to freaking out.

"What's your brother like?" Frank broke the silence with yet another question, and Gerard exhaled through his nose, wishing that he'd been knocked out for just a little bit longer.

"Tall." He swallowed. "Lanky. Brown hair, glasses - no wait, his glasses broke - uh, a stupid beanie with holes in, um..." It wasn't as if he'd forgotten what his brother looked like (that could never, ever happen, not even if he wanted it to), more that he was wary of sharing these details. He missed his brother more than anything. "I don't know. He doesn't really look much like me. He's just - what?"

He'd finally seen Frank's stunned expression, all wide eye and dropped jaw. The latter quickly composed himself, taking the fork from Gerard and opening his can.

"Mikey Way?" He eventually said, and Gerard nodded frantically, his heart beating fast.

"Yes! You know him?"

Frank paused for a long time, deliberating. And then his shoulder rose in a half-shrug, and he ate some beans. "I might do."

The elder took that as a yes, and his hands flew to his mouth. "Do you know where he is?"

"I...have a vague idea."

Gerard shot to his feet. "We have to go! C'mon, show me where he is!"

"I haven't had my beans yet!"

"You can walk and eat, Frank please, I need to find my brother!"

Frank saw the hopefully pleading look on Gerard's face, and he wanted to say no. He wanted to take it all back, because this was a bad idea; it was the worst idea in the world, yet he found himself sighing and standing up, pulling his bag onto his shoulders.

"Fine. Let's go."

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