The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)

Chapter 18

*A/N: I know it's Saturday and I usually update on Sunday- BUT- I am going to post a chapter today and tomorrow because this story has reached 1k reads! Thank you guys so much! I love every read, every vote and comment; it makes my day to know so many people actually read and enjoy this story because at the moment it is the only think I love to do- so thank you all for sticking with me so far! - Love, MFK (Bec) xx

Chapter 18

Heaven. That is all I could say. I finally feel like I belong for the first time in my life. I can’t believe I am here, in bed with this beautiful man; the man who was as innocent as a child, as passionate as a saint and as broken as myself. I tried to push the thoughts of being a couple away, I couldn’t get my hopes up, I didn’t want to jinx it.

With my eyes closed, and my head lay on his chest just listening to the rhythm of his heart doing its own break dance in his chest. Here I had no past, I had no future, it didn’t matter what happened when I left this room. This moment I just knew… I knew that I belonged in his arms. Oh gees now I’m getting all love sick puppy syndrome, not love, I couldn’t love him. I couldn’t love at all.

I felt Gee’s hand slowly start trailing up my back, easily sending shivers through my entire body. The hand grasped the back of my neck to pull me in closer. Without even thinking, my mind buzzed and my heart pumping adrenalin, I obediently complied and pressed my body up against Gerard’s.
A low growl vibrated from the base of his throat as I practically pinned him underneath me with an arm slung over him wrapped up in our own little arm cocoon.

“Hey wake up.” He says pulling himself out of bed so I fall flat on my face against the mattress.

“No… I was warm…” I mumble against the material, my one eye cracks open to see him tugging at my hand, a small pout on his lips and his eyes are closed almost as if he is still asleep.

“I knew this whole vampire thing you had was just a lie to lure me into your bed. Now. Come see.” I jokes and I chuckle as I step out into the cold; doozy but the excitement from Gerard seeping into my pores.

“Ha ha very funny, my names bugs bunny.” I poke my tongue out at him although he can’t see it, but he rolls his eyes in response, now open and bright as he pulled me from the darkness of his room and he plucks a key from his pocket.

He pushes the door open and steps into the room.

“Wow.” I gasp. No it wasn’t a dungeon or a hoard, it wasn’t a killing room or mausoleum; it was a thing of pure beauty and soul, freedom and creativity. Walls were covered in sketches and paint, doodles and torn canvas; his tables were covered in a collection of paints, used, new and half empty discarded amongst the ocean of brushes, sponges and pallets. It was coated in so many colours, ranging from the dark blood and black to the bright sun and grass.

“It’s my studio. Before this happened.” He points to his eyes and then looks around, he breathes in and a small smile graces his lips. “I used to come in here after it happened, I tried so hard but it never worked, after that I tried in my room- I just couldn’t get it right.”

“What are these? A monkey?” I ask as I move to one of the walls, lines and strips decorate it in their own little story world.

“The Breakfast Monkey. I pitched it in high school, he’s the source of my income. Him and various other things.” He looks down suddenly solemn, subdued and saddened.

I let him think on his own as I explore the walls. Vampires, wolves, zombies and ghosts; cartoon characters and doodles of cats. “Who's this?” I ask as I see a drawing on the desk that captures me.

“Lola.” He says from over my shoulder, the desk is littered with this one drawing, one things over and over again, I suddenly feel like I’ve invaded his privacy. The image in from of me is a pink furred figure with a small smile and wide eyes, they're still in the forefront with sketches decorating the paper behind where I can almost watch where he made her come to life, from different face shapes to different expressions- it’s all there.

“What is it some monkey cat thing?” I ask, my finger trembling over the paper as if my touch could make it crumble away, made of oil pastels, chalk, pen, and paint which still litter the desk, it's not quite finished, it feels like there is something missing; like they're is abandoned on the page.

“Lola's everything. Lola's the one to hold your hand as you start your first day of school. Lola's the one to hug you when you taste dirt and cough up toilet water. Lola's the one who holds your hair and rubs your back as you puke up the bottle of pills you ate. Lola's the one everyone loves for taking a second to stop and make them feel less invisible as they seem. If only people could love themselves as much as they love Lola.  Lola's the one who makes me see.”

I feel a ball form in my chest, a nervous twisting ball that makes me feel something I can’t explain, hope maybe? Understanding and remorse? It makes me feel connected to iy, makes what he says hit me right in the gut, because he was right.

“Gerard, it doesn't take a drawing to make you feel sane, it's letting in hope that maybe tomorrow you won't need Lola anymore.” I tell him although I know what he’s saying is true, the problem is that it shouldn’t have to be true.

“You're covered in drawings. Don't tell me that when you can’t even admit it to yourself.” He says angry but soft, his hands trembling in front of him as if he is close to reaching for me, but he doesn’t.

Wait. He knows about my tattoos. “How did you-? Admit what?”  

“That you're afraid. That you know what it’s like when there is nothing else that can make it any better. We were always the ones to care for everyone else, but no one thought to ask how we felt. It was the only way.” I watch as a small tear forms and rolls down his cheek as he brings his small pale and skinny arms up into my view, now I see them- small slithers along his flesh, fading with age, ones that used to match my own. I have to brace myself, scared at how forward he has become, scared at how I don’t want to take advantage at his openness towards me. It was a part of our past, it was a part of most people’s past although it shouldn’t be, and we all have our faults and our scars- we just have to embrace them. Whereas I covered them up and even though I couldn’t see them I could still feel them.

I don’t know what possessed me, but I reach onto the desk and pick up a marker, it falls silent between us apart from the sound of his soft breathing, as I draw and sketch two birds over his wrists; one to represent the devil and the angel inside all of us. As I draw he lets out a soft sigh, humming in the back of his throat as the ink fuses in his skin.

“How do you know I'm not drawing dicks on your arms or something?” I break the silence and pull my bottom lip under my teeth as I squiggle my own signature under the swallow.

“I don't. I can feel you though. I... Know... Enough that you wouldn't do it.” In that moment I see a side of Gerard from behind his closed eyes, I may not have known him when he could see but our pasts allow me to know him through his eyes. It’s the unsaid words that mean the most to me. How it’s his own way of giving something to me that no one else can have. Trust. Wanting him, connecting with him in a way only we know how. Wanting to feel clean yet completely drenched in impurity of the ink. Getting lost in his perfect imperfections.

*Author note 2020: I've edited this chapter to reflect the pronoun for Lola, I apologize that this was not done sooners and I apologize if anyone was offended whilst reading this chapter. It was not my intention. If there are any further issues please don't hesitate to let me know and they will be rectified as soon as possible.