Pretty Odd. A Frerard Story.

Chapter 1 - Franks POV

The sun hung low in the sky. It was only noon yet the air seemed to be gradually dimming, light sinking behind the horizon. My feet twister at the gravel underfoot. The crisp breeze striking through me like jagged fingers; the only option was to turn my collar up to protect me from the ice.
As I entered the cafe the smell of coffee and bacon flooded over me, instantly making me feel at ease. I was at one of the only places that I believed I was safe. Sitting down at a booth by in the corner I took out my pen and paper and started to write. 'If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say-' were the only words that I could produce. Fuck. I had intended to finish the song by tonight however I could tell that it would be near impossible seeing as my mind seemed to be clouded with unrelated thoughts. Why was life so hard? Why was I always being beat up? Why am I still alive? Every question brought a new wave of paranoia and anger pushing the ideas I had for this damn song further out of my mind.
I couldn't wait any longer, my stomach was burning. It was as if I had a coffee addiction. To be fair though, I probably did. I went up to the counter and ordered what I had everyday, a black coffee with a flapjack which I never really ate, just picked at it to do something meaninglessly productive.

As I sat down I glanced across the rest of the room, there by the door was a boy with angrily red hair hunched over, scribbling away. He seemed to stand on age whenever the door opened, clearly he had anxiety. The way his legs shook and how he kept twirling his hair around his fingers were clear indicators.
I was contemplating whether to ask if he was alright when he suddenly stood up from his seat and made a beeline towards me. Sitting down I saw his face for the first time. "H-hey I'm Gerard, I was j-just wondering if i could sit with you?" He stuttered out.
Attempting to give what I perceived a friendly smile I went ahead and introduced myself. "Nice to meet you Gerard, I'm Frank."
Fuck Shit Balls. He was blushing clearly extremely embarrassed. I always was such an awkward being. I felt my own cheeks hotting up. We sat in silence for a few seconds until he piped up "I'm sorry came over and starting talking to you. I guess I thought you were approachable. I'm really sorry about the awkwardness. I'm going to go."
"Please stay, it's nice to have some company" I tried to reassure him. To be honest, there was something mesmerising about the way his eyes darted to and from the window and how he wrung his hands in his lap, giving me a grateful smile he proceeded to sit there. Staring at the flapjack that I had pointlessly ordered. "Take it, I'm not going to eat it" I urged him; no sooner had I uttered those words did he grab it and start to devour it ravenously.
Who was this boy? Why was I so entranced by him? What was his story? All I knew was that I had to find out as much as I could about this boy in a vague attempt to find out the meaning behind my feelings.
We talked for what I guess was an hour, him gradually coming out of his shell. Discussing favourite bands, tv shows and books it was surprising how much I had in common with him. I came to the conclusion that it was probably the answer to why I was alerted to his presence. I must have guessed that he would be a similar personality for me to discuss things with. All I knew now was that I had to see him again, I just wanted to find out every small detail about him.
I looked at my watch and decided it was time to leave. Giving him a sad smile I explained the situation "I have to go now, my mum will be worrying otherwise. Do you, um want to meet again tomorrow? Same place and time?" He turned raspberry, and just sat there twiddling his thumbs. Looking at me through his fringe with his eyes which seemed to capture every colour in some sense he slowly nodded his head. Standing up he gave me his hand, intending me to shake it. As I reached my palm to his he dropped his notebook, paper flying everywhere. He looked terrified.
There, staring out at me in amongst the pages was a picture.
A picture of me.