The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

We walk through the murky Jersey streets, our breaths come out in wispy spirals and our hands clung to our coffee cups willing for warmth from within. He had apologised for not having a car but explained that being a student he didn’t need to travel far on the campus. He was one of the lucky ones that didn’t have to stick at a community college with mediocre courses and dreary professors.

“So does your brother have a job?” I ask trying to make conversation although I’m a little out of breath trying to catch up with him seeing as he has long slender legs compared to my own short stubby ones.

“I’m not sure. He gave up for a while, he was a comic book artist, I’m not sure if he’ll even get back into stuff like that again. Maybe having someone around the house might encourage him a little. Maybe ask him to draw you a tattoo.” His eyes flicker momentarily to my wrists once again and I wonder if he really cared about my inked skin on my arms or even my neck.

“He won’t mind will he? I know some people don’t like ink.” I worry, nibbling on my lip and awkwardly scratching at my neck right over the scorpion.

“Nah he’s cool… look, it’s a live in job so I’ll introduce you first and see how you get along, I’m warning you he’s gonna act like a total dick at first but he’ll come around.” It feels like the change in topic is to distract me, like he has more to say but he doesn’t want to say it. I’m scared that when he does I’ll be running a mile.

“Sometimes it’s hard for people to admit they need help.” I shrug as he directs me to a block of ‘town houses’ all pretty and plain with fairly decent surroundings. It’s a rare sight and I treasure the feeling of homeliness that surrounds me.

He leads me up to a house with a black door, the only black door on the block, he doesn’t bother knocking he just walks in and pulls me through with him into a tight hallway.

“Gee, make yourself decent you have company!” he shouts through the rooms and I follow him up the small flight of stairs straight into a warm looking living room. There was no clutter but black leather coaches set amongst the red painted walls, simple and small but I could see myself snuggled into the leather with the cosy looking fleece black throw draped over me and the electric fireplace set to a low heat. Yes I could see myself living here. Don’t get your hopes up, kid. I remind myself with a sigh of my internal voice pushing me like everyone used to.

“Take a seat, but not in that spot.” Michael directs me acknowledging the corner space of the couch that I would love to just sink into right now. Instead I settle for the opposite end and sit twiddling my thumbs.

“How thoughtful of you to burst in little bro.” I hear a smooth voice behind me, I freeze at the twang he carries with it and stop myself from smiling at the dry humour he puts in his voice. I don’t look as I feel and hear him voice his way around the couch slowly.

“You know you love me anyway. I brought you a little something, Gerard this is Frank. He’s here to be your slave.” My head snaps to Michael with wide eyes at his playfulness; I feel the guy lower himself to the couch but with a stiffness that makes me finally turn my head to him.