The Blind Artist (Frerard MCR Fanfic)

Chapter 11

*A/N: You guys better love me for this chapter, as I have been trying to get through college, learning to drive and write 3 stories surrently... major blind insight and major frerard milestone (sort of).... Love you all and thank you for reading, voting and commenting! xx

Chapter 11

“Gee wake up, you have an appointment today.” I nudge the sleeping prince, he groans and flinches away from me so he can settle his head down onto the soft pink pillow. His hair is now past his shoulders in soft curls and I chuckled at the braid I had made from a few strands, lost in the tangle of his bed hair. He looks like an under-groomed cat that’s been pulled through a hedge backwards.

“Don’t wanna.” He grumbles and shies away from me.

“That leaves me no choice, I’m gonna have to get the bucket…” I say teasingly and edge away from his side of the bed, I had done this once and he didn’t believe me… so that one time I went a got the bucket of ice cold water and tipped it over him.

“No!” He lets out a pained wail and pulls me back to him, I fall not so gracefully on top of him and he gives me a cheeky smile, like every time I made that threat after the first time- he had stopped me.

Our chests meet with an ‘oomph’ and I feel his warm breath flutter across my cheek. “You don’t want to go to the doctor, do you?” I ask quietly, it was the first time I had attended an appointment with him, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was going to get any insight on my enigmatic friend. I think I could call him a friend. He just shakes his head at me, his eyes closed, he holds me a little closer like he had the night I slept in the same bed, and a night almost 3 weeks ago and I hadn’t stayed by his side again. Oh how I wished I could, the morning we woke up wasn’t awkward, we said ‘good morning’ and we made our way downstairs for coffee. That was it.

“I’ll let you get dressed whilst I make breakfast, but if you aren’t downstairs in half an hour, I’ll dump your coffee over your head.” I tease as I climb off him, our hands and feet tangle for a moment but I manage to get off of his bed and stumble my way to his door, missing the feeling of his touch. I miss him just going downstairs. God I’m screwed.

We pull up to the hospital center late, Gerard would only agree to go in if we stopped for a Starbucks on the way there, like a brooding child he sat in the passenger seat nursing his coffee and muttering to himself every two seconds. He then made a point of fumbling his way out of the car till I had to step in and hoist him out of it myself, these times he acted so childish I didn’t know if he was acting or is he was behaving oddly.

“Gerard Way, Doctor Pearson will see you now.” A nurse with a clipboard comes into the small waiting room in the optical part of the center.

“Let’s get this over with.” Gerard grumbles as we stand and he clutches onto my arm as I guide him and follow the nurse; I wondered if Mikey had to put up with this every couple of months- the day he become miserable and uncooperative.

“Hello, Gerard, come in; it’s good to see you again.” A middle aged man greets us from a treatment room, he must be in his forties with his light blonde hair hiding the grey strands at the root, and his blue eyes are wise and warm towards us to suit his jolly manner when he smiles.