Feels like Christmas

xiv. Stars

Everyone sees snow differently. Everyone finds it special, or disgusting, in their own way. But for it to capture one's eye and be their inspiration, it must be special. For the small snowflakes are dealers of wonder and joy or misery and sadness. In his case, it was both. He was just a depressed man in love with art, after all. But both of them were in a way like snowflakes. But every snowflake is different, even though they make a perfection. Winter was a way of things.

Gerard Way was an art student in New York, on his first year of college. He tried to keep his nose in the book, or in a canvas on which he'd release his feelings on. He used art as a way of expression and way of  releasing his feelings on a canvas. Whenever he got boiled up, he'd paint. It was just ranting without using words, on strokes of a brush.

He was always ever-so-gentle with his brushes or pens or with whatever he was making art with. He always liked the way gentle strokes made art look more peaceful. More beautiful. He found it more beautiful than the real world. Thankfully, in his world, his imagination worked harder than anything else, making him get lost in the real world when he had to snap it. His parents had enough money to pay for his studies, thankfully, but sometimes, he wished he was able something else but art. But, reality wasn't a thing for him.

Frank was a person of realism. Despite the fact he was still trying to figure out what the hell should he do with his life, he was desperate for a touch of imagination that wasn't his own. He aced in music, but sometimes, he just couldn't find himself being the imaginative self he used be. He lost the spark once got in the adult world, to work for him way to some kind of success, when he couldn't go to college because he was too broke.

It was funny how those two met. Gerard was back for the summer holidays, a week or two, but he wanted to go through the state of New Jersey for an inspiration for his next artwork. Just upon his return to Belleville, he was quite shocked to see a beautiful young man, who could've been in his teens, Gee wouldn't have known. But he was mesmerized by his tattoos, by the way his body gracefully strolled down the street. He was probably coming back from work or something, but this. He was beautiful.

When Gerard approached, rather hesitantly, he immediately got his inspiration. He found a walking piece of art, a living, breathing one. In his town. And to say he was amazed by him was an understandable statement. It was just. . . The encounter was simply beautiful, and peaceful. And that's where Frank got in touch of an imagination he longed for. It was him who asked him for a cup of coffee, and they both somehow got on a date.

And now, almost four years later, on a cold December night, Frank was watching Gerard paint in his atelier back home. After he finished his studies, he came back to Belleville. He'd go to New York occasionally, only when needed, but he was mostly just there. He did well with his paintings, the paychecks were okay, more than fine. And Frank started pursuing his dream as a musician. But, that still didn't leave him amazed at the man's brush strokes on the canvas, focused on the art piece in front of him, while his boyfriend read a book, drinking some coffee. And sure, they had their own apartment, but more often, they found themselves right there, in Gerard's atelier.

At some point, Gerard left the brush aside. The loud noise echoed through the space, making the younger man look up. What he saw was something beautiful, the dyed black, messy hair getting in his hazel eyes, staring back at him, with a toothy, cute grin showing. He was blushing, and Frank noticed every detail of his face. He chuckled. "Yeah?"

Gerard cleared his throat, getting off his painting stool and strolling over to him. "Let's go get some coffee." which made Frank laugh, and nod, kissing his cheek. His face had few dots of paint on it.

"Of course."