Something I Could Hold Onto
In your eyes, I'm not worth it.
"I love you."
Her words still echoed mockingly in Frank's skull, creating a sharp throbbing behind his eyes. With a sigh, he rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face into the dirty pillowcase. Dust particles mixed with the air above him as he burrowed into the fabric, attempting to calm his overactive mind. It did little good, however, as the tension and escalating sadness flowed freely through his veins like a drug that never wore off. Part of hermust have meant it, he told himself. He repositioned himself so he was laying on his side, and shifted his gaze out the grimy window. Street lights flickered dimly in the night sky, ominous and uninviting in their harsh glare. Voices, too, carried through the thin glass; various obscenities floated through the pane, indicating an altercation nearby.
He cringed at the abrasiveness of the conversation. Arguments always put him on edge, and shouting always uncovered memories he preferred to keep buried.
With a sigh, Frank stepped out of the musty bed and onto the cold wooden floor. His footsteps made a light thump on the surface as he made his way towards the bathroom, disrupting the otherwise silent hotel. As he flicked on the light switch, illuminating the room in a florescent haze, his mind wandered to the only other person to occupy his thoughts.
An image of Gerard seemed to be tattooed to Frank's brain; although he had met him less than a week ago, he could conjure every detail of the boy's appearance at will. His eyes slipped shut, both to dull the light and to imagine his face more clearly. Frank saw his eyes, resolute in their depth, and how they contrasted with the pallor of his skin. He could spend hours visualizing those irises; the color intrigued and stunned him.
He opened his own eyes and studied them in the mirror. No way would he ever be interested.
He groaned inwardly, chastising himself for allowing his hopes to even attain the level they had. After all, the facts surrounding the "friendship" were less-than-optimistic. He had known Gerard for a matter of days, and in the few hours they had spent together Frank had paled in comparison in every respect. He wasn't as clever, he wasn't as outgoing, he wasn't as funny, personable, friendly -
And I'm not even close to being as beautiful as he is.
He swallowed the growing lump in his throat roughly, determined to choke back the tears that now teetered on his lashes. With more haste than needed, he flicked the light switch again and turned on his heel. As he crawled back into bed, clamping his eyelids shut, he mentally berated himself for being such a Goddamn pansy. There was no reason for him to be so emotional about a man he barely knew, yet he still found the prospect of his new acquaintance extremely poignant.
Something was different about Gerard, Frank mused as sleep finally overcame his tired body.
And he was determined to ascertain what it was.
Her words still echoed mockingly in Frank's skull, creating a sharp throbbing behind his eyes. With a sigh, he rolled onto his stomach and pressed his face into the dirty pillowcase. Dust particles mixed with the air above him as he burrowed into the fabric, attempting to calm his overactive mind. It did little good, however, as the tension and escalating sadness flowed freely through his veins like a drug that never wore off. Part of hermust have meant it, he told himself. He repositioned himself so he was laying on his side, and shifted his gaze out the grimy window. Street lights flickered dimly in the night sky, ominous and uninviting in their harsh glare. Voices, too, carried through the thin glass; various obscenities floated through the pane, indicating an altercation nearby.
He cringed at the abrasiveness of the conversation. Arguments always put him on edge, and shouting always uncovered memories he preferred to keep buried.
With a sigh, Frank stepped out of the musty bed and onto the cold wooden floor. His footsteps made a light thump on the surface as he made his way towards the bathroom, disrupting the otherwise silent hotel. As he flicked on the light switch, illuminating the room in a florescent haze, his mind wandered to the only other person to occupy his thoughts.
An image of Gerard seemed to be tattooed to Frank's brain; although he had met him less than a week ago, he could conjure every detail of the boy's appearance at will. His eyes slipped shut, both to dull the light and to imagine his face more clearly. Frank saw his eyes, resolute in their depth, and how they contrasted with the pallor of his skin. He could spend hours visualizing those irises; the color intrigued and stunned him.
He opened his own eyes and studied them in the mirror. No way would he ever be interested.
He groaned inwardly, chastising himself for allowing his hopes to even attain the level they had. After all, the facts surrounding the "friendship" were less-than-optimistic. He had known Gerard for a matter of days, and in the few hours they had spent together Frank had paled in comparison in every respect. He wasn't as clever, he wasn't as outgoing, he wasn't as funny, personable, friendly -
And I'm not even close to being as beautiful as he is.
He swallowed the growing lump in his throat roughly, determined to choke back the tears that now teetered on his lashes. With more haste than needed, he flicked the light switch again and turned on his heel. As he crawled back into bed, clamping his eyelids shut, he mentally berated himself for being such a Goddamn pansy. There was no reason for him to be so emotional about a man he barely knew, yet he still found the prospect of his new acquaintance extremely poignant.
Something was different about Gerard, Frank mused as sleep finally overcame his tired body.
And he was determined to ascertain what it was.
♠ ♠ ♠
The title is from "Scoff" by Nirvana. [They were my first real rock band; yesterday was Kurt's fourteen-year death day.]