The Kiss of Vanity Blessed Me With A Spiritual Murder [Frerard]

It's An Emotional Stutter

The next week, it rains heavily.

Gerard's mother insists on him taking the Chevy to town, but he refuses. He likes the rain, he owns an umbrella, and he's pretty sure his feet will stay dry if the laces on his docs are tied firm enough. The clouds have a sepia vibe to them while Gerard's jeans are black, just like the rest of his clothing, and he can't help but to feel as if this entire thing were framed. He feels comfortably trapped, way too used to his surroundings even though they're completely new and unfamiliar- it's unsettling, really, the smell of dirt entices him too much.

The October air is hung over him rather tightly, and his hair is already catching a glimpse of the moist. He knows his roots are probably showing, contrasting rat-brown against the raven, but he pays it no mind as he's walking towards the giant, gloomy building that is the library. His ankles feel sore since his shoes still aren't used to the ground of this place, and he can't help but to wonder if it's a good thing that he isn't following.

The door is visibly old and crooked in a few places, the creak reverberating across the floor ungracefully. Gerard frowns as he's closing it behind himself, shutting his umbrella before he pushes it into the bin beside the entrance. He pulls his earphones out and turns the music off, sloppily crossing the distance between himself and the counter.

The walls in the room are old, the paint chipped and the concrete broken in a few random places. The ceiling is high and the windows round, with thick bronze sills and stained panes blocking the rain from falling in. The bookshelves are all made out of dark wood, stretching out into heights Gerard would never climb, not even for a book.

"Can I help you?" the dark-haired girl from behind the counter asks, leaning against the surface and smiling politely. Her eyes are on Gerard and he suddenly feels like he's suffocating- it's been too long since he'd done this last.

"Uh," he mutters, picking himself up, "yes, actually."

She raises both of her eyebrows, face soft, and waits for him to form a coherent sentence.

"I'd like to be a member here," he says finally, and she smiles at the way his cheeks flush dark red from awkwardness.

"Certainly," she smiles. "I'll need your name, age and address. A contact number isn't mandatory, but it's best if you provide one if you have it. Just in case, you know?"

*

Gerard's fingers feel damp when he grabs a copy of 'The Alchemist' and strolls down the aisle of books, his docs thudding across the thick, wooden floor. The room smells like ancient oak and rotting paper combined with something sugary, something only dated books can provide. Perhaps disintegration can taste as sweet with books as it can with humans.

The library is almost empty, and the sound of the rain pouring down from the sky is echoing deep across the hallways. Gerard's shoulders are heavy as he's pacing towards one of the secluded corners, looking for the letter O, and he almost trips over someone who's sitting on the floor, their back against the bookcase with their knees pulled in. They're rather small, and Gerard feels relieved for a moment since he's saved from awkwardly asking them to move so he could pass through.

He knows his footsteps are loud contrasting the silence in the air, but the person doesn't flinch even when Gerard accidentally drops the book he was trying to grab from the shelf. He curses on his clumsiness and quickly grasps the decaying paper that hit the floor only seconds ago, his hands trembling a little from the anxiety. It's rather sad how people can make his nerves burn just by their presence, and not even acknowledging his- he feels pathetic only thinking about it.

He notices that this part of the library is noticeably colder than the other- even though there's no logic in the fact whatsoever- but it's okay, since his face is probably heated enough to keep the entire town warm for a while.