The Florence Theory ☆ FRERARD

Chapter 5

There is no way to discover where we go when we die. Anyone who has died will be forever forgotten and cannot tell any living soul what happens after death. Is there a Heaven, as the Christians call it? Or is there just eternal darkness...nothingness—a dark and lonely void of nothingness? Surely, there is more to life than this.

"So, this is where it all started?" Gerard mused, slowly walking around Frank's bedroom, observing his surroundings. He picked up a small Michael Myers figurine holding a bloody knife and smiled, amused. "A childhood bedroom can tell a lot about a person," Gerard thought out loud.

Frank's cheeks took on a light shade of pink as he approached Gerard. "Do you want something to drink?" he offered, feeling moderately exposed.

Gerard shook his head slowly and mumbled, "No, thanks." He placed down the figurine and moved on to Frank's vinyl collection. His head gently tipped to the right as he observed. "It's uncommon for people these days to collect vinyl," he stated, crouching and inspecting the vast array of musical genres.

"Half of those belong to my dad. But I do own some." Frank took up the space next to Gerard as his gaze fell on where Gerard was looking.

"It's exactly what I thought your room would look like. It just screams 'Frank'," he commented. "Intriguing, lively, and so very comfortable—just like you." He arose to his feet and smirked at Frank.

"Do you wanna sit down?" Frank suggested, noticing that Gerard was still interested in his surroundings, so much so that he barely looked at Frank and wore an absorbed expression.

"Yes, yes, of course," he finally said, breaking out of his musing.

"There's a reason I brought you here," Frank began, feeling anxiety snatch his breath from him.

"You mean you didn't bring me here just to meet your awesome family?" Gerard grinned.

"Believe it or not, there's something better than my family that I wanted to show you." Frank opened up a wooden drawer beneath one of the windows of his bedroom and pulled out a small box.

Gerard observed in silence as Frank placed the box on the bed and lifted the lid. The air inside smelt like it hadn't been breathed for many years. He pulled out a small piece of paper that had words written on it in pencil, and a smile consumed his face—a nostalgic smile. Gerard's interest was instantly inflated.

Frank gave some context by saying, "I wrote this when I was ten," and then he looked down at the paper and began reading. "This is a special and magical ring for future Frankie's favourite person. I hope you like it. Dear favourite person, you are amaysing," Frank laughed at the spelling error. He picked up a ring made from blue beads, strung together by a piece of elastic and then smiled.

"You were so cute," Gerard complimented, observing Frank's old boxy handwriting, and then he glanced up at the man and added, "Still are."

"I'm giving it to you," Frank told him, nibbling at the inside of his lip with slight anxiety embedded in his mind and heart—but it was good nerves, something that Frank didn't experience much of.

Gerard gazed thoughtfully at Frank and then smiled. "Really?" The way his voice morphed into a pitch that resembled an excited teenager made Frank feel a sense of home.

"Of course," Frank confirmed. "Do you want to put it on?"

Gerard bit onto the finger of his leather glove and pulled it off his hand, and then he took the ring from Frank and slid it onto his ring finger. "It sparkles," he noticed, tilting his hand from left to right in the afternoon sun spilling in through the window. The bright blue of the beads reminded Gerard of sapphires the longer he stared at them.