Our Foundations from Decay

Gerards POV 41

I anxiously burrowed through the rushing crowd as my body slammed into lockers and bags filled with schoolwork.

it was noon— rush hour at school when everyone was trying to get where they needed to be; for me, that was at a lunch table outside with Bert.

My skittish eyes flickered between all the passing faces in the hall, achieving nothing but uncomfortable eye contact or uninviting glares. My worn-out sneakers squeaked awkwardly as I wrestled my way to encounter my old-time friend, my throat drying up at the mere thought of it.

Suddenly, my eyes skimmed over a familiar face.

"Frank, over here!" I waved at the boy.

he perked his head up, glancing around for a bit, finally spotting me like he was a child lost at the mall.

"Gee!"

he jogged up to me, yanking my arm to the side and out of the river of people.

"Are you meeting up with that guy now?" He inquired, shiny eyes looking up at me through luscious hair.

"Yeah, I'm kinda nervous. I think I'm gonna hurl," I half-jokingly said.

"Ugh, I hate that our timetables don't match up, I wish I could keep an eye on that Bart guy,"

"Bert." I corrected him. The least he could do was remember the guy's name— I mean, Bert didn't even do anything wrong, and he was an old pal of mine.

I then put myself in my boyfriend's perspective. Okay, I'd be totally jealous if some random hunky playboy asked Frank on a lunch date.

"Well," Frank digressed, "see you after school, then," He glumly stated, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek and then wiping it away with his thumb.

My heart thumped as I watched the boy walk away, disintegrating into the crowd amongst us.

I've been through a lot with Frank, and yet the smallest things he did still sent a whirl of butterflies within my stomach.

I wonder if this is the honeymoon phase or if I'm hopelessly falling victim to the Black Death that is love.

I brushed my thoughts away, locking them back up in a little box buried in my mind, and continued on with my quest.

After making it out of the crowd, I was in a much different atmosphere— grass shyly peaked through melting snow, and the sun's rays kissed my skin through clouded skies. Little birds shivered in their nest, huddling together for warmth, chirping out to their mother as she prepared a meal.

I miss Mom's home-cooked meals.

I walked along the padded ground, taking in the shift of seasons, when I spotted a haze of smoke drifting into the air.

Ah, must be Bert.

"Hey, Gerard," he spoke without turning to look at me as if he could sense I was there.

"Hey, Bert, how've you been?" I ask, sitting next to him on the picnic table lined with frost.

His jagged blue eyes glossed in my direction as he turned to face me.

"Same as always. Want a fag?" he offered, waving his pack of cigarettes around enticingly.

Same as always, huh?

Bert used to say he felt as if every day was the same— like he was constantly bored with life. It must be why he'd always get high; just so he could feel something. He told me the only interesting things in his life were music, drugs, and me. God, how did I not see it before?