If These Walls Could Talk [Frerard]

10: Apologies and Everlasting Silence.

Frank didn't talk to me as much after that. Not for a few weeks, anyway. Sure, he came by my locker a few times, still chatted with me in the hallways. Yea, he still sat with us at lunch, but something was a little off about him. It wasn't off in the way that I was, it was just that he'd adapted the same awkward air around him as when he'd first arrived at Ridge View. We rarely ever went to the pond together, at least, we were never there at the same time. Either Frank had just left, or I just wasn't there anymore. I'd found myself laying on the floor in my room a lot more, my eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, not having enough effort to move or speak, or do anything, really. Mikey would tell me things, but I'd simply dismiss them. It was the old "in one ear and out the other" strategy.

The few times that I did get up to move around that wasn't for school purposes (I didn't want to really do anything then either, but when did I ever?), was when I'd pull out my sketchbook and try to finish old, confusing, unfinished sketches. I'd constantly flip through the notebook, scavenging for the drawing I would have to rediscover the meaning of, rediscovering the reason why I had begun to draw the sketch in the first place.

My fingers flipped through the rough pages, my eyes scanning over each drawing for no longer than a moment before I moved forward in the book. Just as I was getting towards the end of the sketchbook, my hands suddenly held the remaining pages between my fingers. I scanned the page, my face dropping and my blank face turning into a frown for what seemed like the millionth time that day, billionth that week. After all, what could I say? I was lonely without Frank there to tell me his interesting events in his day, or his jokes that he always used in the worst time possible. Before, maybe my mental health had been deteriorating slowly, but at least I had something to stabilize me. Mikey just couldn't help me as much anymore. He was hanging out with Pete way more, and he just couldn't seem to see past my fake smiles as well anymore.

In front of me, the front of the sketchbook creating a shadow over it, laid a drawing that I'd pretty much forgotten about since that past week. The sketch was still perfectly intact, a person being able to see the beginning of what was, who other than, Frank's features. His smile. The way I'd drawn it, I could picture it so realistically. I bit my lip, hard enough for blood to be drawn after about a minute. I was frozen, my eyes staring directly at the drawing and not caring to notice anything else around me. The only thing on my mind was him.

Frank.

The memories.

His smile.

His laugh.

Him.

Eventually, I felt my eyes begin to water as my fist clenched at my side while the other one slammed the cover of the book down. I swiftly forced myself to turn around, to move, to do anything to change the position I'd been stuck inf or who knows how long. I had to accept it, Frank probably didn't want to talk to me. I just.. I just didn't get it. It wasn't fair. Frank was allowed to play with my feelings like that, do random acts like he had been doing out of nowhere, and then he didn't owe me an explanation. He just up and left me to wonder what the whole kiss on the cheek thing had been about.

I sat for a few minutes, 10 at most, staring at the textbook and the outdoor world. All of my pent up anger, my guilt, my worry, was floating around, just begging to be let loose on the world. My thoughts swirled, all of the possible reasons for why Frank hadn't been socializing with me coming to my mind. Eventually, my mind was deciding to come to the conclusion that I'd done something wrong. In reality, that's something that anyone would've thought of first.

Just as I was about to throw myself out the window for being so stupid, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I hesitated, my body freezing. did I really want to know who it was? Or what it said? Then again, it could be Frank. And he could possibly be wanting to say something super important. But, what if it wasn't? What if it wasn't Frank at all, just someone trying to get my attention? Was it worth my time? I wanted to scream.