Falling of the Rain ♡ Frerard

First Day of My Life

Hello! vampirexchild here. We're kicking this off with my segment, you're welcome to comment as you please, as always, and I hope you enjoy this.

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The colors of Spring burst through the chilled caskets of winter encasing the quivering leaves once dangling from the thin branches twisting outwards like pallid fingers, now budding in swells of green and blooming flowers spreading their petals open to welcome the mist and the sunshine spreading liveliness through the earth. Spring rain inflicted humidity into the rising temperatures and layers of frost still crystallized rooftops from the remaining cold of the dawn and the decaying evenings leading to the resurrection of the moon. The contrast of a fading season and one rising through the reviving blades of grass caused the birds to sing in celebration as they perched on the palms of open branches connected at their stems, cradled in the makeshift nest inhabiting round eggs promising the arrival of a new round of the birds' song to the earth.

Cursing underneath his breath, Gerard hunted for his keys lost somewhere in the pile of various art supplies he recently purchased the previous day. They'd been swallowed up by receipts and secretly lost within the sea of paper bags pooled onto the floor because of the variety of shops Gerard was required to visit whenever he restocked— one store didn't have the right shade of blue he needed, the other carried better brands for brushes, and the paper quality tended to run richer from one shop's personal brand he couldn't see being belittled in comparison to other pages he'd used. To top it off, Gerard was as picky as an artist could be much to the frustration of the poor employees generously offering their help when they caught him pacing the aisles.

With a cry of triumph, Gerard dangled the keys from his fingers and held them up, as though to show off his discovery to an invisible crowd despite living by himself in the nearly below average sized apartment paid off from the dollars he earned through commission paintings. He cleared his throat awkwardly at his own actions and placed everything back into their rightful bags, almost losing his keys again in the process of stuffing brushes inside one paper bag leaning against the plain colored wall.

Gerard took a moment to rake his fingers through his freshly washed dark hair he'd been growing out ever since the previous year where he'd sported a cropped look in both snowy white and the pitch black coloring his locks in the present. Shadows began to sink in subtly underneath his eyes from the lack of rest, his artistic drive and internal fire when it came to perfecting commissions ignited to the point where morning arrived when he'd just sworn it was only midnight mere seconds ago. His fingers brushed along the fading bruise underneath his jaw from the time he'd struggled opening a jar of paint, resulting in his hand slipping and clocking himself in the exact spot still throbbing from tenderness as his fingertips grazed the darkened patch of skin. A normal person wouldn't bruise, but his skin was frustratingly delicate, Gerard noted with a grumble. 

There were similar results during one fateful evening where a jar of pickles slipped through his incapable fingers and shattered onto the ground, his swears and the sound of glass being broken alarming his neighbors.

Heading outside, Gerard climbed into his car and set off onto the familiar roads that would lead him to the comforting cafe he stepped foot in plenty of months ago when the line at Starbucks surpassed the doorway and his patience ran on the thinnest line awaiting to snap. The welcoming atmosphere and the decorative hues of red and white splashed into the walls and various surfaces provided the unique feeling of homeliness a place like Starbucks couldn't provide when Gerard sought out to soothe stewing nerves and cravings with freshly brewed coffee. The prices weren't as outrageous, he also noticed upon his first visit, so he lingered for the following days and hardly remembered the appeal to the more widely known coffee shop filled by those who didn't trust the humbler spaces in the strings of stores lining up the Los Angeles blocks humming with traffic and pedestrian life.