The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)

Edited- Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Age 18
Funny isn’t it. How one moment can change your life. Just seconds can tick, tick, tick away and before we know it there’s no turning back.
It was 6 am.
I had always loved the sunrise, I had always been the witness to both sunset and sunrise, the mix of white blending into the hue of oranges and subtle yellows made me think of cocktails, of warmth and that brisk chill that brought autumn to life. Everything was like a reflection of fire and ice, the dark flame cut by the dark night fading into an unreplaceable blue.
I had never appreciated such things though. I never had the time to just stop and think, with not only working but being a career too. Being relied on.
That day, I was running home from my shift at the local gas station, I had to make sure to be home by the time the line of amber reached level with the tops of the houses.
Basking in how I loved the early morning, and how was still early enough to spot the odd night creature pass over the land, you’d spot the occasional deer or fox. They’d look at you, fear struck and then run off as quick as a dart. I could empathize with the poor creatures, how many times I’d done the same from prying eyes.
I found a spike of energy that morning, I knew that if I made it home by 7 am I had an hour of rest before school started.
It also meant I had enough time to do my chores before mom came home from her late shift. No doubt we would both be tired and overworked, times like those it’s easy to forget that you’re family.
Home to me was the wooden patchwork house at the end of the street.  Each repair made to it by each generation of our family made it unique compared to the suburban houses next door. It was always a relief to be home, until the reality set in that my next job awaited.
Most days it took that extra push ups the creaking steps. Feeling the tiredness hit, feeling my skin prickle with the feeling of the grime of the day awaiting to be washed away.
From the beauty of the sunrise into the darkness of the house. It was like being plunged into night once again. And the silence of the house rang in my ears, a short huff and the sound of my stomach grumbling fills the void.
“Frank! Where have you been!?” my father broke that silence from up stairs. Remember that deer in headlights moment? This was in.
His voice sounded weaker. His usual remark would have included a swear word or two. Something wasn’t right.
Despite feeling the exhaustion in my eyes, and my feet feeling like rocks, I made my way upstairs.
“I was at work. Sorry I wasn’t home sooner.” I sigh as I come around the corner. One small victory making it to the top.
He was a frail man, his dark brown eyes had flecks of honey in them. A small smile flickered on his lips as he saw a younger self reflected back.
He was the man I’d look up to all my life, and still look up to. Not anyone would make their son a Dracula costume for the Easter parade, or stand there proudly whilst doing so. He’d sacrifice a day’s pay to see me in event’s, where now I realize how difficult that would have been for our family. But he did it. For me.
So then I did it for him. I checked the colour of his cheeks, a pale grey I’d grown used to. “Have you had anything to eat?” I asked looking at the tray of fruit and cereal the night nurse had lay out in front of him. Untouched.
“I’ve lost my appetite. No one makes it like my boy.” A thin hand rested over mine and he smiled, proudly and boldly at me.
“I’ll get you something else.” I took the bowl from him and turned to leave.
“Frank.” My father called. I turned raising an eyebrow. “Thank you.”
In that moment I knew for more than the cereal. I had looked after him since I was 13. When he had a stroke. Something that could have happened to anyone at anytime, and the time was his. In just a few seconds he had lost his ability to move his left side. Tick, tick, tick- just like that the blood had clotted and his brain suffered.
Upon returning with a yogurt and some pancakes he had turned looking out of the window.
“Are you leaving me today?” he whispered. He tugged on his blood pressure monitor attached to his hand after wiping away a tear.
"You know I have to go dad. If I don't I'll fail high school, I'm barely passing as it is." I couldn’t meet his eyes. Guilt was a foe of mine. It presented itself often in these moments and they were hard to shake off.
Tick, tick, tick- the silence of the room made that sentence sink in. I had planned a life for myself. That I had made myself. Back then I didn’t know what my life was destined to include. Or if the money I’d made would make up for what I’d lost. Which was a lot in my mother’s saddened spending sprees. I guess Gucci never was the best cure for heartache, where she came from anyway.
She also had a knack for timing, I had showered and dressed just in time for her expected arrival home. I often wondered what home meant to her. I wondered this most mornings whilst plumping a pillow for my father or after I’d given the daily dose of pills.
That day was also the day I had time to walk to school, instead of the typical labored run at the last minute. And I was able to admire the grass I’d cut for neighbors and the fences I’d painted for extra money.
High school always fascinated me. I’d stand by my locked watching people walk past almost like a trip to the zoo. You’d get the scowl from the odd acquaintance and the looks of disgust as people passed couples kissing… at least it looked like kissing, for all I know it could have been a lost scene from the movie Alien.
I liked to think I was invisible then. So I was surprised when I was pulled out of class. Thinking I’d done wrong I spluttered. “ I’m sorry, whatever I did I’ll fix it.”
The weight of a hand on my shoulder was like the weight of the world the sound vibrated in my ears.
The hallway clock almost slowed.
Tick, tick, tick.
Tick, tick,tick.
“He’s gone Frank. Your dad has passed away.”
Tick.

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Author note:
Do we like this edit? I've changed it a bit so let me know what you think 💗