*A/N: Thank you all for the support lately through reading, voting and comments! I wish I could post more than one chapter today but I'm in the middle of writing it so you'll get it as new year's gift! Merry Christmas (if you can still say that?) and Happy New Year!
Chapter 7
I had loved cooking from a young age, I had done it almost every night whilst my parents were at work. I mean what 5 year old couldn’t stick a fork in the plastic wrap and wait until the magic oven cried ‘beeeep!’; it wasn’t until I had turned vegetarian that I had learned to cook real food. Call it being half Italian or call it being my survival instincts I felt at home when stood at a stove, apron tied around my waist and singing quietly to myself.
“With just a touch of my burning hand- I send my astro zombies to rape the land! Prime directive, exterminate!...The whole human race!” I sing with a passion to myself as I sway my hips and tap my converse clad foot against the tile floor of the small kitchen I had introduced myself to earlier that day. The stove in front of me simmering a deep red sauce filled with spices that flirted with the tongue and tickled the stomach in a warming way. I stopped my singing to hum the rest of the song as I prepared the parmesan balls to incorporate into the sauce and spaghetti. I added seasoning and hints of herbs that had been stuffed to the back of his cupboards. Once Misfits stop, my mind begins to make its own music, my fingers play with my voice as I host my own little concert. I prance and dance around the kitchen with my eyes closed as I sing. “We live our lives in our own way. I feel sorry for the choice you made. I’m not pathetic, just sympathetic. I’m not pathetic, just empathetic.” I mutter to myself as I pant and push my sweaty mop of hair off my face. At that moment I hear a clearing of a throat behind me.
My eyes snap open and I scramble up off the floor turning to press my back against the counter of the small kitchen.
“Something smells amazing.” He tells me sniffing the air and a small smile appears at the corner of his lips making his defined cheekbone move the sunglasses that cover his eyes.
“I’m cooking dinner, I thought you’d like to have a home cooked meal, although I wasn’t sure what you liked or what you ate so I did something simple. Pasta in a tomato and parmesan sauce.” I say slightly out of breath, slightly nervous and as I scratch at my neck over the scorpion tattoo that burned my skin.
“To me it sounded like you were treating me to a dinner and a show.” He smirks and the familiar feeling of a blush paints me cheeks. Is he flirting? Or is he opening up to me? Either way I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up and I certainly shouldn’t be blushing every time I hear that soft twang of his voice.
“Where did you want to eat? It’s almost done.” I say turning my back to him as I give what’s in the pans a stir.
“Give me the plates, I’ll take them into the lounge, we can eat on the box.” He says as my eyebrows turn up at him. He wanted to help which is sweet of him but I was more worried that he’d fall or something.
“Sure, I’ll be in a sec, call if you need me.” I take his extended hand and hold it out so I can place the two plates on the top, I help him guide the plates to his chest almost as if he is hugging them and cheekily I put two forks into his jeans pocket where his other hand goes to so he can feel what it is, and not that I’m some creep shoving my hand in his pocket. He feels the edges of the fork and smiles shyly as he turns to make his way out the kitchen.
It’s as I’m turning the stove off I hear his voice, throatily say. “And Frankie?” I turn shifting to look at him, he’s not facing me but I can see the side of his face. The gap of the glasses along the side allow me to get a glimpse at his open fluttering eyes, my breath catches and my instinct is to close my eyes. It felt wrong to be looking, like it was something taboo to do, especially when my insides did a flip at the sight of his thick long lashes. “Your voice is good. It’s nice to hear around the house.” He says quickly before leaving me there dumbstruck and fighting the urge to just combust.
****
He had moved a crate over into the middle of the floor, placed cushions around it and settled the plates out perfectly. I had offered to serve him first and as soon as the food hit his plate he got stuck in which brought a smile to my face and some rose in my cheeks as he moaned in delight.
“Since when was the last time you ate real food?” I ask him as I twirl the spaghetti around my fork, he takes a sip of the Diet Coke from the Brandy glass- the one of the only things in his cupboard that wasn’t a mug and hadn’t been used for coffee.
“You mean something that isn’t take out?... I have no idea.” He says honestly. “Thanks for cleaning this place up anyway.”
My eyes widen again and to my own shock I can’t stop my hand as it comes up to wave in front of his eyes. His hand darts out and catches my wrist sharply.
We freeze.
Oh, shit. Oh, crap! What have I done! I’m such an idiot.
I sink back into my seat. This is it I’m going to lose my job and I’ve not even made it past the first day!
“Frank. It’s okay.” I hear Gerard saying but I’m too busy hyperventilating. He’s gonna hate me. What asshole waves a hand in front of a blind guys face? An asshole that’s who! I knew I shouldn’t have gotten settled in. I knew I wasn’t gonna be here long. I just knew this couldn’t be real! I have nowhere to go, I have no job, no references- just a string of failing report cards, a certificate to practice and half my life devoted to working my ass off so I could afford my father’s medical bills. “Frank! Hey it’s okay. Frank.” It isn’t until I feel hands on my arms and breath across my face; that I realize Gerard had scrambled over to me to calm me down. And now I was looking up into those solid black lenses.
Then he’s says the words that take my breath away. “As free and crazy as we want to be, and how much we want to make the world a canvas, there's also a part of us that doesn't want to make any mark. Just leave me be, Frank, do your job.” And then he stands up and leaves. Cool, hard and collected. Void, introvert and subdued.
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The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)
FanfictionFrank Iero liked to prove people wrong, he proved his family wrong by going to college, he proved his professors wrong by finishing it- but he has never been able to prove himself wrong. So when he is offered a job to get him off the streets and out...
