Disenchanted | Frerard

prologue

1:37 am
franks p.o.v

*this first paragraph is inspired by/adapted from the poem "a stranger smoking a cigarette" by dave h.

i light up the cigarette and inhaled and exhaled repeatedly.
i completed this ritual as if i was attempting to nourish an unending
craving. i smoked the cigarette, until the white roll of nicotine turned to black ash, then i flicked the "cigarette butt" on to the ground, as though discarding something of no value.*

i got up from the fallen tree that i was sitting on and zipped up my hoodie. it was dark, the only source of light being the moon, hidden behind the clouds.
i started walking through the trees, softly humming an almost forgotten lullaby that my mother used to sing for me as a child, which was comforting.

i kept walking until something stopped me in my tracks, it was too dark to see clearly so i kneeled down to get a closer look. as i leaned forward i caught a glimpse of something in the moonlight, as i looked closer i realised that it wasn't a something it was a someone.

i jumped up alarmed, unaware of what to do. "leave me alone'', said the voice belonging to the someone, and i peered down at him. "why are you lying on the ground in the dark?" i asked. "i said leave me alone". i lay down beside him and light another cigarette. "no".

he turned to face me and asked, "why are you lying here with me?" i stopped to think, why was i lying on the ground with a total stranger? "i don't know, i guess i thought we both need comfort" the man grunted in response. "why are you here?" i asked him. "i could ask you the same thing"

i let out a harsh laugh, "i come here to be alone." the man sighed. "if you come here to be alone, why are you staying with me?" i realised how vulnerable the man was, and i turned to him and said "i find you intriguing."
"what's your name?" he asked. "frank." i turned on my side and extended my hand for him to shake, which he did.

we lay there for a few minutes in silence, the few exceptions being the crickets chirping. "gerard." he mumbled. i turned over, facing him again. "what was that?" "my name's gerard."