Blind in a Way (Frerard)

Two

I was laying on my bed, tossing a tennis ball I had found on the grass my first day on campus when Ray strolled into our shared dorm room.

"This school is going to kill me." He groaned, flopping face first onto his own bed.

"Was it the chemistry class?" I asked, continuing to toss the ball up and catch it.

"It was the chemistry class." Ray mumbled into his bed sheets.

I nodded, continuing my solo game. After a minute, Ray propped himself up and turned over to me.

"You're quiet." Ray commented, "Usually you're full of smart ass comebacks by now."

I tossed the ball up and just let it fall on my chest and bounce to the bed next to me.

"I guess I'm feeling the consequences of having a conscious." I shrugged, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh god Frank, what did you do?" Ray groaned. He knew how easily I got myself into trouble. Most of the time in school, he had been right along beside me. (Not always willingly of course.)

I sighed, playing with my lip ring. "I may...or may not have accidentally mocked a blind guy..."

"Frank!"

"It's not like I knew he was blind!"

"Still!"

"I know!" I yelled back, pushing myself up in frustration, "Do you really think I'd do it on purpose?"

Ray looked down and shook his head. He leaned back on his bed again and looked up at the ceiling.

"You always were one for first impressions Frank..." Ray sighed.

I grabbed my pillow and shoved it over my face.

~Gerard's POV~

You know that feeling when you wake up in the middle of the night in a darkness so deep you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face?

That was what I saw 24/7.
Awake or asleep. Daylight or darkness.

My life was a constant black pit surrounded by smells and sounds that were my soul sources of knowing the outside world. Well, I had touch as well, but you can't just go around feeling up peoples faces randomly.
What a first impression that would be.

I was sent to this school a year ago after highschool. What irony that a blind boy wants to create art.

My brother was here for his own reasons, but got more privileges for acting as my guide. He actually took his courses online while I attended classes. He was just there to get a basic degree. He wasn't really set on anything at the moment, just practicing his bass.

It was beautiful to listen to, I thought he was quite good, but he never really combined it with other instruments.

"It's not good enough yet!" He'd always argue.

He was looking over the libraries collection of music books, (Which seemed small by the way he muttered) so he didn't notice me as I wandered away from the shelf just next to the table he sat at. I wandered around the smooth wood panel to the other side and felt along the various sizes of books. Tall, short, short, medium, short, to tall again. Leather...paperback...hard cover...

I smiled. My mom had shown me the different textures when I was young. She explained the shapes...the texture... Never was very good with color though, color was harder.

I was thinking about that, trying to just imagine what the world around me might look like, when my foot collided with something. It was solid, but soft at the same time.

"Hey!" An irritated voice said.

"Oh crap! I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, gripping the shelf next to me. The voice sounded like it belonged to a guy. It was soft, a bit like some kind of singer?

"I may be short, but I'm not that hard to miss buddy." The person I had accidentally kicked muttered, thinking I couldn't hear him.

So he was short? Couldn't be that short to the ground, I mean I didn't kick high up.

I laughed a bit. "You'd be surprised..." I felt the sly grin spread across my face.

There was a slight pause before the boy I accidentally kicked spoke up again.

"You know, only douche bags wear sunglasses inside." He spat, once again his irritation evident in his tone.

It was honestly so fun to mess with people who didn't know. I know it was terrible, but sometimes I needed some kind of fun.

"Well if I knew what a douche bag looked like, I'd probably agree." I replied. I waited for the person's reply.

"Oh shit dude..."

There we go. Now they knew.

I waited for his next words, ready to apologize for both the kicking and messing with him, but Mikey's voice came out of nowhere.

This kid I swear to all hell.

He nagged me about my cane, shoving it in my hand, and about how he was sent along to school with me because of how irresponsible I was.

I felt him lead me away from the stranger, back in the direction of where his table had been from what I could tell. That whole thing had been a few hours ago, but I was still mad.

"You're embarrassing." I muttered from my bed in our dorm.

"Whatever, big brother." Mikey replied in a sarcastic tone.

"Whatever, little brother." I smirked.

I heard the floor creek with his footsteps before I felt his fist hit my arm.

"Didn't mom ever tell ya not to hit a blind person?" I asked, picking up my cane from the bed next to me and waving it in the direction of the squeaking floor.

"OW! Didn't your mom say not to hit her favorite kid with your whacking stick?"

"Favorite, hu?" I laughed, "Some secret silent communication you two learned to keep me in the dark? Cuz I've heard different."

"You're a little shit Gerard!"

I held up my arm to block Mikey's mock punches, laughing. I could hear his position from the floor, and I could simply feel his presence in front of me.

That was pretty much most of my life. Feeling, hearing, and that kind of sixth sense to make up for my lack of sight.

"Take me back to the library tomorrow, yea?" I asked with a laugh once Mikey had abandoned his rough housing.

"Sure. Gotta check out some other music books anyways." I heard the sound of him jumping onto his bed, "Why do you wanna go? Their Brail section looks pretty slim if anything."

"I have my reasons." I shrugged. I felt the smile still on my face.

"What? That kid you kicked?" Mikey laughed, "You and those punk kids..."

"Punk, aye?" I asked, scooting back on my bed to lean against the wall, "Please, tell me more."