If These Walls Could Talk [Frerard]

9: Endless WeekDays

guESS WHO'S BACK

It's project time, so guess who gets 8 hours a day to work on this !!!

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Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Repeat. Every week was the same. The same people pushing past in the halls. The same shrieks of girls seeing their friends. It totally wasn't the fact that they'd seen them the day before, they just always seemed to find new gossip. Anywho, back to the point. No one changed anything. Everything was the same, boring routine every day. And it bugged me. Frank was the one change I'd gotten into my life and he'd changed classes. I sighed deeply, sluggishly finding my way to my locker and pushing past Bert. I was in no mood to deal with him then. Well, I never was, but usually I at least tolerated him.

"Gerard! Gerard, wait!"

I didn't turn around, much less respond. I kept walking. If I stopped, I wouldn't get going again at that point.

A familiar body found it's way to my side, panting and fidgeting with his backpack, but still at my side nonetheless. I never looked him in the eye, I didn't look anyone in the eye that day. I had the choice to, but I never took it. After all, what was the point of making eye contact with someone when you didn't feel the need to communicate with them? Frank obviously noticed something was up with me, but he didn't push me to stare directly at him. He just said a few words to me before turning sharply to head to his classroom. His words echoed through my brain, the way he was so comforting about it, but also so casual.

"Just know that the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me."

I liked that. I liked how he said it. It made somewhat of an effect, not a big one, but still an effect. And I enjoyed that. I enjoyed Frank's company in general. He was just so...so interesting. But, he was like me, so I had to help him. I wanted someone to be okay for once. Then again, I never really cared about someone other than Ray, Mikey, and Frank in the same way. I never was given a reason.

Classes flew by, the clock seeming to go faster. I didn't process anything that day, only that a few tests were coming up and I guess it was okay because we didn't have any homework then, so it wouldn't really make a difference. Besides, none of the teachers really cared if we turned anything or not. They just assigned pieces of work to us because they had to, as we'd have nothing to do with our lives so Principal Miller must've thought we'd be doing drugs or going to clubs if we didn't have homework. Everyone knew there were the few students in Ridge View that did those things anyway, we never figured out how they'd managed to do their work and all, provided that they even did.

For me, I tended to draw or paint when I had free time. A few times, I'd write down my feelings and thoughts from the day, maybe even things that had happened, but not in full truth. I didn't write them in a diary or whatever, I'd stopped using those when I was young. Instead, I drifted towards the musical end, my words being expressed lyrically or in a very poetic way. I didn't think they were very poetic, at least. But, Mikey did.

Each time I would decide to enter something new, I'd have to find just exactly where I'd put the older notebook, moving it each time. It was the same notebook that Frank had seen when he came over that day, but I made sure to move it after he left. Before or after entering what I was going to enter, I'd flip through the whole thing, making sure to tally something next to the title if I found that it was becoming relatable to me again. As I was flipping through, I noticed that I'm Not Okay had several tally marks already, and it's numbers were growing in size, too. I sighed, dropping gently to my knees on the floor, allowing the notebook to slide out of my hands and onto the old and worn carpet. After I few minutes, I heard a knock on my door and then the slow and steady creak as it opened. I turned to see who my visitor was, my eyes saddened and the visitor giving me a concerned look before coming to grab the notebook from off the floor and look at it. It didn't take them long to wrap their arms around me, my own tired arms instinctively wrapping around their back.