L'appel du vide [frerard]

There was not much I hated about myself, but I've never been anything special. I was just me, Frank, and sometimes not even that. I looked at my eyes; they where alright. They were brown, but a dull type of brown that can be brushed off easily. I then looked at my lips they where small and took a weird shape when I tried to smile.

Smiling; that was something I didn't do very often. The only other times I would smile would be for perhaps a picture or to reassure someone that I was fine; in which obviously I wasn't. But this smile was weird; it wasn't a forced smile and it wasn't a smile out of joy. It was just there. A smile that I had permanently sowed on to my face to make myself look at least a little bit more appealing. But for whom or what, I wasn't sure. I didn't like anyone, I wasn't in love, I never have been and never will be.

So who was I trying to impress with my "beautiful smile" and my "chocolate colored eyes?" No one. What I was seeking for was not approval from someone else but rather some sense of pride that I was beautiful enough so that when I walked outside my house people would look at me in awe. But boys weren't considered beautiful or pretty or fragile. Boys where meant to be seen as manly, tough, and aggressive. But that wasn't who I was. I was about four foot nine, I didn't have any muscles, and I'm not one for fighting.

Quickly I looked at my eyes and instead of those dull brown eyes I saw the most beautiful set of black misery that lead to my deepest and darkest thoughts. I blinked twice and I was back to normal again with my awkward smile and dull colored eyes. I quickly gathered my thoughts and practically ran to my bedroom.

I laid down on my bed; I was not tired but I couldn't stand to stay awake. I closed my eyes and began to count sheep. one sheep, two sheep, three sheep. But nothing worked. My throat inched for something I had not drunk in 24 hours and I needed that bit of caffeine to keep me alive. I quickly gathered myself and threw on my shoes before heading to the coffee shop a couple blocks from my house. I was not one to leave at such a sudden time, specially, since it was starting to get dark out. I quickly arrived and ordered myself some black coffee.

As I waited to be served I felt eyes on the back of my head. oddly I looked back but saw nothing in particular. I shrugged it off and continued picking at the skin around my nails. I had that feeling again; that feeling that someone was looking at my every move- every mistake- every flaw. Someone was definitely looking at me, opening me apart at the seems and trying to figure me out. I was not okay with this. I didn't like people looking at me. Hell, I didn't like people talking to me let alone trying to "get to know me." I looked back and there he was. Someone I had not seen before.

He was staring at me intently; not blinking once. I was quickly drawn to his eyes; they where green. But not just any green. They where the type of green that you could stare at for hours and never get tired of. That green that made you want to wake up in the morning and smell the grass outside. He kept staring at me, never looking away. And I stared just as intensely. I finally started to feel uncomfortable and gave him a twisted look. He smirked at me and continued brushing his pencil against a pad of paper.

"Why are you staring, Kid?" He spoke with a wild grin on his face. His voice was like velvet. I could already tell I liked the sound of his voice. I knew in that moment that I wanted to hear him talk-no I needed to continue hearing him talk. But why? what was so magnificent about this cocky looking stranger that intrigued me so much.

"I-um-um sorry I just. sorry." I stuttered. I hated when I did this. I was always unable to form a coherent sentence when I would try and talk to someone. hesitantly I looked down at my coffee that had been obviously brought my a waitress. my cheeks began to heat I could tell. I was

probably as red as a tomato by now.

"You mind if I sit here?"

Frank looked up from his coffee and saw him. he nodded and continued picking his fingernails.

"you got a name?" the boy spoke again. I looked up at him debating weather I should run for my life or answer the question.

"F-frank. Frank" I spoke softly, my voice barely going above a murmur.

"Nice to meet you Frank. So is there a reason for you being here so late? huh Frank?" the boy challenged. Frank looked around quickly wondering where everyone else had gone.

"Wh-who are you? what's your n-name?"

"Gerard." He brushed up simply.

"Gerard" I repeated.

I liked the way his name sounded as it escaped my lips. His name was quite lovely and fit him perfectly. But there was something more to this Gerard character that I wanted to know more about. I wasn't sure why but I just did. He was weird I could tell- he wasn't like most people here. Here in Jersey usually people didn't come up to strangers sitting alone to introduce themselves. It's just something that was never done. and I was okay with that. But with Gerard, I was actually glad I agreed to him sitting with me. Quickly I noticed my fingers where bleeding from being picked at. I sucked the blood out of my finger to get it to stop running.

"You know that's not good for your fingers? Right Frank?" Gerard noticed.

"y-yeah, I-just. I-it just happens sometimes." I blushed madly and wiped the rest of the blood with a napkin. He had obviously took notice of my embarrassment because he started to grin like a mad man. Quickly Gerard broke off the paper he had been working on and folded it into a neat square.

"So, same time tomorrow?" Gerard smiled.

"I um I don't mean to be rude but I don't exactly know you- I can't just-" I stopped myself. Gerard smirked and left the shop without another sound. I quickly took notice that he had left his paper; still folded upon the table. I pranced up to my feet to try and find him to give it back. But once I walked outside he was already gone. I went back inside the shop and payed for my coffee. I decided to keep the piece of paper.

If Gerard had left it maybe it wasn't that important to him. Once I reached my house and plopped on my bed I unfolded the paper. Staring back at me was none other than, well, me. Gerard had drawn me. right there on that piece of paper was a picture of me bitting at the skin of my fingers. Under that where the words "the calling of the void." and in that moment I knew. I knew I had to see him again.

As I sat upright on my bed I realized something. Not only had I spent hours pondering about the man I had just met- Gerard to be exact- but also I had discovered that I had progressed great admiration for him. There was something in me that was clearly telling me that Gerard was quite the genius. A quiet and mysterious genius; but a genius non the less. And there was something more I had for Gerard which I wasn't sure what it was but a type of longing I had to know everything about him.

I wanted to know what went through his head all the time; I wanted to know what his heartbeat sounded like. I wanted to know his inspirations, his ways of life, his comforts, his discomforts. I wanted to know him from head to toe. And as sleep took me by surprised and soured me into the deep thought of Gerard I realized that I looked up to this man. It was in fact extremely creepy; but truly I had developed an obsession for him. And I wanted-no needed- to just at least see his face.

In the middle of my nightmare; I awoke. I swear on my life that I had seen a shadow lurking the corner of my room. As I squinted I saw those green eyes-or at least I thought I did- until I furiously shook my head and the figure was gone.

It was like my head was messing with me. Making me see things that weren't there. But not just anythings; I saw him. In the slight seconds that I had seen those green eyes; I knew. I knew they where not just any green eyes. They where his green eyes. Gerard's.

And I knew my obsession had gotten bad. My obsession to Gerard was something I could not really even begin to understand. But I knew I couldn't let anyone know-let anyone see what he was slowly doing to the inside of my brain. He slowly building a home in there and by all means; I let him.