Chapter 29
*Gerard's P.O.V* still
3 months had gone by. 3 months. Who knew just thinking of it would make my chest feel hollow. To make me feel sick, cold, shaky and tired. I guess I was love sick. But not in the good kind of way.
In those 3 long painstakingly boring months, agonising and slow. I had done nothing, but a lot.
The art I made was blind art, blind in choice of wearing a blindfold, and blind in choice of being blind of passion and love. Because without those you couldn't have art. It was just a blur of hopeless black and red splattered like blood on a canvas, the fire like a pit in my stomah and a hanging man waiting like a trick to go wrong. 1. 2. 3. Hrs gone... Or was it the silhouette of a man jumping for his life from the fires and flames, making pretty art in the sky with a thousand and one wide eyes, open mouths, gasps or sighs.
It was like a rebillion against myself, finding who I was and what I could be if I wasn't blind anymore, with sight that was more blur that spots it opened me up to see who I was in the mirror.
The guy I see in the mirror isn't me anymore, thin and pale, my ribs poke out, my porcelain skin marred red, my bones poking through the skin dangerously, my blue veins jumping with my pulse under the skin... my eyes. My deep olive green eyes turn a cold dull murky green hollow and empty. They look too big for my thin skeletal face, my lips a shocking red from constantly biting them, my hair a dull brown with no life left in its limp wet state tangled across my forehead. I looked like a corpse and for some reason I liked it. I didn't like seeing myself so broken but at the same time I felt like I deserved it. I deserved to be as broken on the outside as I felt on the inside. My eyes bore into the ones in the glass, staring into the deep black soulless orbs, it was like looking into an everlasting cycle of a black hole. An abyss.
*A/N: I have exams next week so I'm sorry if I don't post but it'll be worth the wait don't worry.... And I hope this chapter wasn't too poetic as I sometimes get in a mood where I just write like a poem. And if you didn't guess the art Gerard was talking about was the bullets cover, I always thought it was Houdini but as I got older I thought maybe it the jumpers from 9/11... Seeing as he saw it and it was the first album... If you didn't know what I mean by jumpers- there were pictures of people falling or jumping and they made some sort of shapes as they fell. Anyway sorry for the sad topic and I shall leave this chapter in order to revise.-MFK aka Bec xc
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The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)
FanfictionFrank Iero liked to prove people wrong, he proved his family wrong by going to college, he proved his professors wrong by finishing it- but he has never been able to prove himself wrong. So when he is offered a job to get him off the streets and out...
