Immortal °*~frerard fic~*°

Chapter 1:Feeling like bike rides and merry go rounds,

"Goddamnit!"

I once again was met with the harsh, unforgiving pavement, catching myself with my hands before I could injure myself further. At least I had good reflexes and didn't have to fall on my face like an idiot all the time.

As I turned and looked at the blazing red bike, I gave it a glare "I hate you so much." I told the inanimate object, which stared back at me tauntingly in the bright sunlight. With a huff, I stood back up to try and ride it again.

It was a bit later in the day so as I struggled to stay on, people walking past gave me strange looks. I guess I deserved that, though. Seriously, who takes two hundered and three years to learn how to ride a bicycle? That just goes to show how much of a procrastinator I am, especially in this era with electronics to distract myself with.

After one final attempt, I had had enough of the secret stares from the people in the park and decided to go back to my apartment. I would just have to continue to learn tomorrow. Yes, that would work. It was a weekend, meaning I didn't need to work tomorrow. The bike rolled beside me as I walked down the street and I soon came across a lovely coffee shop.

That was another one of my favorite things about this era: coffee. I've had my fair share of shitty cafés, but this seemed like a delightful place to spend my lonely weekends. Hopefully none of the employees minded how much caffeine I got in my coffee, like most do. But, of course, I couldn't walk in now. My pants were dirty, I had a bike in my hands and of course there was no bike rack in sight.

I would just have to come back tomorrow. So it looked like my bike riding session was going to have to wait or my schedule would be unnecessarily full. As I walked on I looked at all the buildings that rose higher than I could have ever imagined, the billboards advertising different products. I was so enrapted in my trance, I didn't notice him until we bumped into eachother.

Stumbling by the sudden touch, I turned to look at the man. He had these beautiful greenish brown eyes--hazel? Is that what it's called?--that looked up at me and had me mesmerised not by the buildings, but by him alone. Mesmerized by his plump, pink lips and clear, pale skin. His hair was bleached on the sides and made me want to reach out and touch it to feel how soft it was. Had anyone told him he was beautiful? I would have to tell him, but I don't think I could find the words to truly describe him or his unique beauty at the moment. He was the type of beautiful that you don't notice at first but once you really look at him and look into his mesmerizing eyes and look at his plump, pink lips, you realise that you want to see it and be lost in it forever. And it left you speechless.

"Watch where you're going next time." The stranger said and I nodded, unable to speak. For a while after he had walked away, I just stood there thinking about his fascinating features and trying to memorize his face. He had a perfect jawline, and a face that was meant to be drawn.

I thought about this as I headed the rest of the way back to my apartment. Even though I may not see him again, I could still draw him. I wanted to remember this day even if it did have it's ups and downs, like a merry go round. Well, maybe that wasn't a good analogy, but I'm not really good with that type of stuff.

I finally got back to my apartment and struggled to get the bike through the door. At one point, it was caught around the corner and when I tugged on it my pant leg got stuck in the chain. It was just a mess and when I finally got it inside, I was relieved to put it down.

Very, very carefully, I set it down against the wall behind the door, making sure it wouldn't get caught on anything. I swear, that bike is going to be the death of me. I turned on the television to some random channel and took out my sketchbook to start drawing. I wasn't really paying attention to what show was on, I never really do, it's just there for background noise.

As I sat on the couch and drew, it became clear exactly what I was drawing. Or, rather, who I was drawing. But there was something missing, something there that I had forgotten about or didn't notice. I thought I had gotten it perfect, but something was off. What was wrong with it?

Nevermind that, it's nothing really. Other than that one mistake, the image I made was perfect. His beautiful, practically glowing eyes stared back at me from the blank page I had drawn on. I had drawn a lot in my time, so I had lots of experience with drawing. And I already knew that Frank was going to be my favorite thing to draw, at least in this era.

I closed my sketchbook and returned to watching the television, but not really watching the television. My mind was stuck to the man I met on my walk home, the stranger that felt like they weren't a stranger at all, the person who captivated me and fascinated me and that I wanted to know every aspect of. Was I falling in love? Oh god, I can't fall in love. It always leaves me feeling broken and sad and miserable when they leave. But I couldn't help wondering if he was feeling the same way about me as I was feeling for him.