Porcelain ♡ Frerard

Chapter 20

"The sunset cloaks these words in shadowplay. Here and now, long and loud, my heart cries out, and the naked bone of an echo says, 'don't walk away.'"

– 'The Last Beat of My Heart', Siouxsie and the Banshees.

—

Frank requested to be dropped off at an inconspicuous area on the block. It was a quiet, lonely neighborhood, inhabited by few houses gleaming with ropes of Christmas lights strung around the linings of trim rooftops. The first sign of snowfall fluttering down into the unforgiving cold only made sense, yet Frank still bristled at the sight of it, shoulders tense as his back began to ache from the stiff muscles. The cab driver wished him a merry Christmas Eve before she took off without second thought. Once she disappeared around the corner, Frank took off. He sprinted down the sidewalk, blocking off the distant hum of Christmas music and laughter rising from the scattered houses harboring families connecting to celebrate the holiday. Against his empty chest, Frank could feel Gerard's locket pressed to his skin, secure under his insufficient amount of layers like a reminder tapping urgently against his body to beg him to stop the way Gerard would if he'd been there. Frank swallowed hard and breathed deeply through his nose trying to flush out the flurry of scenarios where Gerard went into a desperate panic the moment he got a call informing him that Frank had taken off. Guilt germinated, sinking sharp teeth into his wired nerves, but Frank only pushed his legs harder in his sprint until his lungs protested from being filled with icy air frosting the corners until his diaphragm grew sore from it. He'd have to make it through the night to see if he'd pay for being out in the chill with a raucous cough.

Getting to the house buried behind overgrown green on the most desolate section of the street, Frank was flooded with nostalgia and sadness drinking in the rotted foundation and clear signs of long abandon, boarded windows and a wilting front door covered in crossing patterns of yellow tape to keep out intruders. It seemed to have done its job judging the untouched state of it, unless the lock had been carefully dismantled for anyone to sneakily enter. Frank glanced down the vacant street and skidded to the front door, heart pounding erratically. His hand misted in a fine layer of perspiration wrapped around the handle, twisting. The doorknob wobbled, nearly falling at the sign of his touch, and gave away to grant him entry to the dark inside that smelled intensely of old dust and damp wood.

There were several leaks in the ceiling, water damage spreading in discolored stains in the thin wallpaper, and the floorboards were coated in a thick layer of dirt with old footprints that already began gathering a new film of dust. All of the forgotten furniture was draped in white cloth, as depicted in Kristin's sketch, but a loose interpretation of a vision couldn't encapsulate the eerieness of covered furniture and the unbearable quiet swelling in all of the untouched rooms. It felt impersonal without any of his great aunt's belongings hung on the walls or scattered on the counters, yet it was familiar, especially as he spotted the rocking chair beside the sofa angled in front of the spot where the television used to be as if it expected his aunt to return someday to leisure with her elderly dog snoring in her lap.

Frank kept his steps light in fear of someone or something suddenly popping out. Each time he thought it might happen, there was only stillness; but it wouldn't remain that way for long. He swallowed hard as he watched his Converse create a new trail of prints in the dust, giving a view of the dark cherry wood hidden under the filth. He could feel the dirt swirling in unseen moats beneath his nose, filling his lungs moving quick with shaking breath. He approached the living room, nearly jumping out of his skin when glass from an empty broken frame crunched under his foot unexpectedly. Frank held his fist against his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to try to calm the fuck down, but his attempts were futile when all sense of bravery vanished in a fleeting second when a voice appeared from behind him.