Chapter Text
Frank's P.O.V.
***
"Sweet Pea," someone whispers, and I roll my eyes irritably. I swear to God, how many times do I have to tell these people that my name isn't Sweet Pea? "You fucker, it's just Frank. I don't have a fucking gang name," I snap, spinning around to face the figure.
I don't even know his name, but I do know that he's been on a bender for the past few days. He reeks of drugs, his eyes tired with them, the scent on his breath. "Sorry, Benj," he replies, and I give him an incredulous glare. "Where the fuck do you get 'Benj' from?" I cry, and he shushes me.
It's about midnight, and the gang is on their way to the abandoned general store, intent on attending the Meeting of Gangs. We missed it last year, so we're doing our best to make it this year. The dark night envelopes most of my gang members, so I can only see those tinted by the dim light of street lamps. "Benjamin Franklin," the man explains, his voice hoarse, "Frank is short for Franklin. Plus, you can't just have people calling you by your first name. It's too revealing."
I click my tongue, because I could care less about some stupid gang name. I'm Frank, and I always will be. "You think I care?" I ask, and the guy goes silent, and I look back around the corner, gesturing for everyone to follow me as I walk down the alleyway. "How about Leathermouth? It sounds good. Suits you," another man says, and I stop walking. They need to shut up, because we're going to get caught at this rate.
"Holy shit, I swear, the next person that talks is getting their tongue cut out," I threaten seriously, and then continue down the dark path. There's a small beam of light coming from a cracked door, so I approach it and glance inside.
Through the opening, I can see many men, and women, sitting on the floor, in chairs, standing, and just anywhere they can fit. There has to be at least twenty people in there. I nod and take a breath, turning back around to face the five people of my gang. "Okay, guys. Remember not to make fools out of yourselves, and remember whose gang you're a part of," Fro, the leader of our gang, warns, and we nod. I grin at our confidence and open the door a little more, and the gang slips inside.
I follow them, closing the door behind me, marveling at the other gangs of Belleville. For such a small town, there sure are a lot of gangs. I try not to let my guard down, because every single person in this room could kill me at any given moment. So, I keep a hand on my sheath at all times, prepared to hurt a motherfucker if I must. "Hey, watch it," someone hisses at me as I bump into them, and I glare at them.
"Maybe if your fat ass wasn't in the way, then I wouldn't have bumped into you," I retort cockily. This is both a blessing and a curse, my sardonic abilities; I'm quick with words, but cocky and prone to getting beat up. Besides, I'm only five foot four. The person turns on me and pins me against a wall, knocking the breath out of me. He's at least a foot taller than myself, very broad and bulky, reeking of gasoline.
His breath is hot against my face as he stares at me angrily. "Say that again, pimp," he spits, and I blink. "Gladly," I reply sarcastically, "I said–"
"Hey, hey, break it up," a man walks over to us, pushing the man off of me and supporting me before I can fall over. I stare up at him, quite alarmed at his soft appearance. His hair is jet black, messy and longer than I would expect. It's not long, but it's longer than short. My attacker straightens his vest, which is littered with pins and badges. "Pick on someone your one size next time," he growls at me before glancing at the person that had stopped the fight, and then walks away.
I resume my inspection of this person, admiring his hazel eyes and thick eyebrows. His lashes are very long for a guy, and his features are very soft. He smells of cigarettes and maybe beer, but it's not too overwhelming. In fact, it's comforting. "Hello," he says with a small smile, letting go of me and shoving his hands into the pockets of some tight, torn skinny jeans. I bite my lip and return the smile. "Hey," I reply, and he puts out a hand.
"I'm Big G," he introduces himself, and I take his hand, shaking it quickly. "Fra–" I begin, but then remember what that guy had said, "Leather. Leathermouth." Big G smiles and puts his hand back into his pocket. "Great to meet you. What gang do you run?" he asks, and I smirk. "Oh, I don't run it," I say, slightly ashamed, "But it's called Death Spells."
At this, he furrows his brow and steps away from me, suddenly disgusted. "Death Spells? How come I haven't seen you before?" Something inside of me breaks, and maybe, just maybe, it's my heart. Just at the mention of my gang, this guy hates me. And he's extremely attractive, too. "I don't... I've only been in the gang for a year and some change," I reply slowly, and he pulls his lips into a line.
"Okay. Well, I need to call the meeting together. Nice meeting you, Leathermouth," he says tightly, and my heart flutters. Yes, I like this man. He's cute, he's very hot, and I can't get enough of his voice. He walks away, and I watch him, my gang approaching me slowly. "You're too soft," the leader, Fro, says critically, and I wince. To be called soft is a really terrible insult, and I bite my cheek.
Big G stands up on a table in the middle of the room, clearing his throat and calling, "Hey, everyone! Welcome to the annual Meeting of Gangs!" The room silences, a few murmurs going around, and he places his hands on his hips. Sassy little bastard. Fro scoffs and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall beside me. "The little cunt hasn't changed at all," he whispers to another one of the gang members, who nods. Big G continues talking, shifting his weight to his other foot.
"Just as an annual update," he begins, "We'll name off the gangs in attendance, and then go through rival gangs and alliances. There are a few upcoming gang fights that I need to mention as well." Everyone begins to whisper, and Big G gazes at us sternly. I melt under that gaze, scolding myself for falling for someone so helplessly out of my league. Being in a gang, I'd expect myself to be tougher.
But I'm not.
Big G coughs loudly, and the room quiets down again. "Noisy motherfuckers," he says under his breath, receiving a few dirty looks, "Anyways. Okay, please separate into your gangs and state your gang names. I need to know who all is in attendance." There's a lot of shuffling and noise as people organize into smaller groups, a grand total of four groups forming. There are five to seven people in each group, some tougher in appearance than others.
"Those of you who were here last year know how this works. Leader at the front," Big G continues, and Fro moves to the front of our group, his wild mass of curly hair bouncing as he walks. I want to laugh, because the hair just makes him look ridiculous at times, but no one's allowed to talk to him about his hair.
Big G leaps down from the table, landing gracefully. I imagine myself doing the same thing, tripping and then falling flat onto my face. With all I'm worth, I contain my laughter, tears beginning to form at the struggle. Big G walks around the room, and points to one of the groups across the room. "Name?" he asks, and the leader crosses his arms, nodding his head. "Siren Sleepers," he says, his voice raspy.
There's a brief exchanging of conversation between the man and Big G, though I cannot hear a word of it, and the man laughs loudly. Big G moves onto the next one, and the man at the front says, "Piercing Veils." These would make some wicked band names, in all honesty. Big G nods and moves onto the next group, which there is no one at the front of. "This is my gang," he said aloud, gesturing to the group of men, "Baby G. The softer your gang name, the more dangerous you are." Everyone laughs, except for my gang. I laugh, but receive a quick blow to the ribs from Fro.
Big G finally makes his way over to my gang, and Fro's face pinches into one of disgust. "Gerard," he growls, and Big G sneers. So, his name is Gerard? "Ray," he replies in an equally deathly voice. So, I take it the two know each other. "Death Spells, the most dangerous gang in Belleville," Fro declares, and the Piercing Veils gang whoops and hollers along with our gang. I know that we're really great friends with the Piercing Veils gang, as we greet them whenever we pass and aid them in any gang fights they have.
"I think not. Anyways, to go over current alliances, those maintaining neutrality, and rivalries," Gerard announces, glancing quickly at Fro as he says the "rivalries" part, and then it dawns upon me. Though it saddens me greatly to realize this, and I know in my heart that my chances with Gerard are now none, I have to accept it, because I'm in a gang.
Death Spells and Baby G are rival gangs.