murderer - frerard

[007]

It took one hell of a lot of courage to finally bring it up one day. I'd been wrapping bandages around my swollen knuckles when I let the words slip from my mouth and out into the open air between Gerard and I.

"What is that?"

He glanced up at me, his mouth pulled into a thin line as he gripped the pencil tightly in his right hand. I shouldn't have expected him to answer; I knew it seemed like a lot to ask after sitting in silence with him almost every day.

He'd been coming over just about every morning for around a week. I hadn't been keeping up with the date.

Gerard's eyes flickered from my face and back down to his sketchbook and right back up.

"Nothing," he mumbled coldly, pressing the tip of the pencil to the paper with an extravagant amount of force. The lead broke off and he cursed under his breath, which wasn't uncommon. I almost believed him when he said it was nothing, but I wasn't quite that credulous. I dropped the subject.

A minute passed, then five. The minutes multiplied into an hour, and finally Gerard broke the silence. "Tomorrow's your birthday," he said softly.

I was taken aback, "I'd forgotten." I heard the rumble of a car engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. "You've got to go."

"It'll be okay," Gerard smirked up at me.

"No, seriously, my mom's home and you've got to go."

"Killjoy," Gerard got up, not bothering to push the chair back in, and sauntering out into the den.

Two minutes later, Mom's keys jingled in the lock and she stepped into the kitchen, "Hey, son." I forced a smile. "How'd you sleep?" She had no idea how fucking early I'd been waking up lately.

"I slept fine; you look tired, Mom," I said and she smiled wearily and nodded. She started mumbling something about Leo as I helped her up the stairs and into her bedroom. "Get some sleep."

I retreated back to my own room, lying down on my bed. I shifted uncomfortably; something hard and rectangular pressed into my back. Fumbling under the comforter with my good hand, I pulled out a solid black sketchbook. It looked untouched.

With a flip through the pages, I found that every stark-white page was blank except one in the very center of the book. It was dark and suspicious and made my breath catch in my throat.

The drawing was detailed. The eyes were nearly symmetrical and the lips curled into a smirk I knew all too well. It scared me on about a million fucking levels.

The lines looked as if they'd once been clean and sharp, but after being traced time and time again, the paper was mostly a grey smudge.

It was me.

okay hello it's me I still exist i am alive ok
also !!! if you want anything in this book or your own character or something that would be hella cool lmao