Porcelain ♡ Frerard

Chapter 5

"Well he seemed broken-hearted, something within him. But the moment I first laid eyes on him all alone, on the edge of seventeen."
— 'Edge of Seventeen' Stevie Nicks
——

The imminent death Frank braced himself for was treacherously encased in ice outside.

In other words, Frank wasn't sure how to walk down the path and into the driveway to get inside his truck without slipping to his death when the concrete was nearly entirely crystallized with ice. After a heavy rainfall lasting a majority of the night, the low temperature caused the water to freeze over the ground, even going as far as to frost the greenery surrounding the neighborhood, icicles looming threateningly above where they trickled down from the roof's edges in temporary stillness. Frank would rather there be snow than ice causing him to become overwrought with anxiety. His heart thumped wildly imagining the deathly consequences of driving against the black ice patching the roads, completely inescapable. He stared out the window in distress minutes before it was time for him to drive off to the classes his mother insisted he attended, guaranteeing the safety of the snow chains laced across the sturdy tires made for frigid conditions.

"What if I die?" Frank worried the strap of the backpack slung across his shoulder by picking at a thread coming undone on the inseam.

"You're not going to die." Linda clicked her tongue. "Don't be dramatic. I've driven during these conditions lots of times."

"You've been driving longer than I have."

"Just go slow and be careful while making turns." Linda carried on insisting Frank wouldn't lock eyes with the Reaper, halfway shoving him in the direction of the door.

"It's not just driving on the roads, what if I fall and crack my head open?" Frank's hands flailed in the direction of the ice glazed ground.

"Then walk slowly. You're going to be late to class, Frank." Linda's slight sternness urged Frank to shed his insecurities about the weather conditions or else she'd be very displeased.

Avoiding all levels of dissatisfaction, Frank heaved a deep breath as he pried the door open, his hand lingering on the knob for a moment. He'd fallen in worse conditions, such as the time he skidded across the road on a skateboard for the first time and hit a pothole, sending himself flying onto the unforgiving roughness of the floor heavily scraping his palms and knees taking the burden of the landing. There was still a jagged scar on his right knee from the incident, protruding ever so slightly from the rest of his skin, and Frank found himself absentmindedly stroking along the shiny battle scar whenever he zoned out. Frank warily examined the ground while stepping outside and immediately grabbed for any supporting railings, hearing his mother make a sound of amused exasperation behind him. He shot a indignant look over his shoulder while making his way towards the driveway path.

Halfway down the cement without slipping so much, Frank's predictions proved to be triumphant. In a lapse of judgement, Frank thought it would be smarter to take large steps to avoid stepping along the ice for longer than necessary. He vowed to never trust his theories over instinct again as his foot skidded across a sheet of ice camouflaged by the light shade of the driveway and sent him falling onto his ass on the floor in a pile of flailing limbs. Frank yelled at the impact, immediately grabbing at the tire of his truck resting nearby, and hysterical laughter ripped through him as a coping mechanism for the soreness flaring all the way up his spine.

"Are you okay?" Linda called out from the front door in  deep concern after witnessing Frank fall.

Frank's head whipped around and he noticed Linda was clumsily starting to make her way out the door, but Frank shouted at her to stop with a hand in the air.