Dark Blue.
Chapter Two.
It was morning, the sun just making its way to its peak before settling itself down in its usual one o’clock spot. The sky had turned into a crisp blue, clouds running away at the sight of the bright star while the jacket-covered citizens of New York stripped off their skin and wiped a hand across their sweaty brows.
A boy watched from them all from inside the streaky windows of a cafe with a hand cupped underneath his chin and a cup of coffee occupying the other. He shook his head and snorted at the sight before he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip and nearly spitting back out once the liquid hit his tongue; it was far too cold.
Scowling, he stood up and let out a sigh, zipping up his faux fur lined coat to the neck before walking out of the shop, making sure to toss the espresso into the trash on the way.
He could just tell it was going to be one of those days.
Looking up at the sky, Frank squinted an eye at the blinding sight and frowned; it was unusual to see the sun bright so early. Digging a hand into a compartment of his tattered knapsack, fishing out his cheap knock-off sunglasses and a cigarette, he slipped them on and stuck the stick of tobacco in his mouth, blinking before bringing his gaze back down to the pavement and shuffling his hands into the front pockets of his bag, looking for his lighter.
With success in lighting it, he then continued his way, walking down the street and turning a corner before his eyes settled down on a crowd. Furrowing his brows in curiousity, he took the few steps towards them, seeing a mass of people that were crowding around the city square fountain. He took a few steps closer and realized it was a man on the city square fountain.
“—is it hard?” he heard someone say, walking faster to get a closer look to whoever they were talking to. The man nodded, almost as if sad.
“But I’m learning to cope,” he said, with the slightest of smiles. Frank could already tell that whatever they had asked about was more or less a touchy subject.
Finally, getting close enough, he sat down next to another boy, who seemed completely transfixed on the mysterious figure. He nudges him in the ribs.
“Yo,” Frank asked, nodding towards the man at the fountain. “Why are you all here?”
The boy leaned to him, all without taking his eyes off his attraction. “The guy talking, you mean?”
Frank scoffed obnoxiously. “No, I mean the Trix Rabbit with the drug problem.”
The other broke his gaze off the man and gave Frank a hard, confused stare, before peering into his eyes closely, “…are you high?”
“Yes, I am so high,” Frank replied, rolling his eyes and getting up off the ground, walking a few feet before turning to a girl in a sunshine yellow dress.
“Who’s he?” he asked, jabbing a finger toward the man talking, hoping to get a proper answer. The girl gave a hippy smile, showing all of her teeth.
“Well, I don't know his name,” she said as her eyeballs swiveled in her head nervously. “But he says he's blind or rather,” before giving a pathetic, sympathizing smile, “the poor thing…”
Frank curled his lip back and turned his body toward the man talking, hearing some bullshit of how he’s still learning and crap. He rolled his eyes again and picked up his rucksack, turning to walk away before he heard a, “can you draw one of us? Just by touch?”
This particular question caught Frank by surprise and pursed his lips, contemplating on whether or not to stay and hear what the blind guy had to say.
Frank watched as the man smiled.
“Would anyone give me a pencil and possibly, if you don't mind, your face?”
It bugged Frank of how polite this guy seemed to be, behind his shit eyes. If it were him, he thought, he’d much rather stay at home, not to be bothered or sympathized or pitied because in his opinion, anything would be better than being scrutinized for a disability.
“Frank! What have you done in here?”
“Nothing Ma, go back to sleep.”
“You’ve defaced the walls!”
“No Ma, there’s a difference between defacing and painting.”
“But why that colour?”
“It’s blue, Ma. There’s nothing wrong with blue.”
“It’s so dark! You know how much I don't like dark things!”
“Yes, Ma, I know.”
“Do you wanna start a fight with me, this early in the morning?”
“No, Ma.”
“Then change the walls back to white. Take that blue shit off.”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Sometimes, I worry about you. You're changing into someone I can't even recognize anymore.”
“I know, Ma.”
He hated it.
“Yes!” a female voice cried out, standing up abruptly and then laughing.
Frank tried to get a good look at whatever caused his disruption and got a glimpse of the picture the man had drawn. Matching the features within that girl’s face and the features within the picture, he’d be convinced that the guy wasn’t really blind.
But then again, if he says he’s blind, then he’s blind. There wouldn’t be any point in convincing people otherwise because so many had come to see this guy’s performance.
As much as he hated to admit, he was awestruck. How could a blind man draw someone by just relying on touch? It just wasn’t fair, he thought.
He couldn’t even draw a rock to save his life and he could see while this other guy couldn't.
As the crowd dispersed and went their own separate ways, he decided to go up to the man and introduce himself, just to say a somewhat friendly hello. Going up closer, he noticed that the man was now feeling the marble sides of the city square fountain, as if looking for something. A dark blue umbrella caught his eye and he picked it up, clasping a hand on the others shoulder and shoving the stick into his arms.
“That was really amazing,” he said, trying to keep his anticipation and awe in check. Due to the blind’s smirk, it was obvious he had done a shit job of it.
The man gave him a smile, showing his teeth, “thank you.”
“I’m Frank,” he blurted out, unable to hold any of his personal information in. He hoped for the other's name in answer.
“Gerard,” the man chuckled, his teeth still showing. “Blind man extraordinaire.”
A boy watched from them all from inside the streaky windows of a cafe with a hand cupped underneath his chin and a cup of coffee occupying the other. He shook his head and snorted at the sight before he brought the cup to his lips, taking a sip and nearly spitting back out once the liquid hit his tongue; it was far too cold.
Scowling, he stood up and let out a sigh, zipping up his faux fur lined coat to the neck before walking out of the shop, making sure to toss the espresso into the trash on the way.
He could just tell it was going to be one of those days.
Looking up at the sky, Frank squinted an eye at the blinding sight and frowned; it was unusual to see the sun bright so early. Digging a hand into a compartment of his tattered knapsack, fishing out his cheap knock-off sunglasses and a cigarette, he slipped them on and stuck the stick of tobacco in his mouth, blinking before bringing his gaze back down to the pavement and shuffling his hands into the front pockets of his bag, looking for his lighter.
With success in lighting it, he then continued his way, walking down the street and turning a corner before his eyes settled down on a crowd. Furrowing his brows in curiousity, he took the few steps towards them, seeing a mass of people that were crowding around the city square fountain. He took a few steps closer and realized it was a man on the city square fountain.
“—is it hard?” he heard someone say, walking faster to get a closer look to whoever they were talking to. The man nodded, almost as if sad.
“But I’m learning to cope,” he said, with the slightest of smiles. Frank could already tell that whatever they had asked about was more or less a touchy subject.
Finally, getting close enough, he sat down next to another boy, who seemed completely transfixed on the mysterious figure. He nudges him in the ribs.
“Yo,” Frank asked, nodding towards the man at the fountain. “Why are you all here?”
The boy leaned to him, all without taking his eyes off his attraction. “The guy talking, you mean?”
Frank scoffed obnoxiously. “No, I mean the Trix Rabbit with the drug problem.”
The other broke his gaze off the man and gave Frank a hard, confused stare, before peering into his eyes closely, “…are you high?”
“Yes, I am so high,” Frank replied, rolling his eyes and getting up off the ground, walking a few feet before turning to a girl in a sunshine yellow dress.
“Who’s he?” he asked, jabbing a finger toward the man talking, hoping to get a proper answer. The girl gave a hippy smile, showing all of her teeth.
“Well, I don't know his name,” she said as her eyeballs swiveled in her head nervously. “But he says he's blind or rather,” before giving a pathetic, sympathizing smile, “the poor thing…”
Frank curled his lip back and turned his body toward the man talking, hearing some bullshit of how he’s still learning and crap. He rolled his eyes again and picked up his rucksack, turning to walk away before he heard a, “can you draw one of us? Just by touch?”
This particular question caught Frank by surprise and pursed his lips, contemplating on whether or not to stay and hear what the blind guy had to say.
Frank watched as the man smiled.
“Would anyone give me a pencil and possibly, if you don't mind, your face?”
It bugged Frank of how polite this guy seemed to be, behind his shit eyes. If it were him, he thought, he’d much rather stay at home, not to be bothered or sympathized or pitied because in his opinion, anything would be better than being scrutinized for a disability.
“Frank! What have you done in here?”
“Nothing Ma, go back to sleep.”
“You’ve defaced the walls!”
“No Ma, there’s a difference between defacing and painting.”
“But why that colour?”
“It’s blue, Ma. There’s nothing wrong with blue.”
“It’s so dark! You know how much I don't like dark things!”
“Yes, Ma, I know.”
“Do you wanna start a fight with me, this early in the morning?”
“No, Ma.”
“Then change the walls back to white. Take that blue shit off.”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Sometimes, I worry about you. You're changing into someone I can't even recognize anymore.”
“I know, Ma.”
He hated it.
“Yes!” a female voice cried out, standing up abruptly and then laughing.
Frank tried to get a good look at whatever caused his disruption and got a glimpse of the picture the man had drawn. Matching the features within that girl’s face and the features within the picture, he’d be convinced that the guy wasn’t really blind.
But then again, if he says he’s blind, then he’s blind. There wouldn’t be any point in convincing people otherwise because so many had come to see this guy’s performance.
As much as he hated to admit, he was awestruck. How could a blind man draw someone by just relying on touch? It just wasn’t fair, he thought.
He couldn’t even draw a rock to save his life and he could see while this other guy couldn't.
As the crowd dispersed and went their own separate ways, he decided to go up to the man and introduce himself, just to say a somewhat friendly hello. Going up closer, he noticed that the man was now feeling the marble sides of the city square fountain, as if looking for something. A dark blue umbrella caught his eye and he picked it up, clasping a hand on the others shoulder and shoving the stick into his arms.
“That was really amazing,” he said, trying to keep his anticipation and awe in check. Due to the blind’s smirk, it was obvious he had done a shit job of it.
The man gave him a smile, showing his teeth, “thank you.”
“I’m Frank,” he blurted out, unable to hold any of his personal information in. He hoped for the other's name in answer.
“Gerard,” the man chuckled, his teeth still showing. “Blind man extraordinaire.”