How to feel again? Oh how to love, how to understnad it? (if you dont get it please tell and i'll improve my concepts)
That meant one thing upon knowing this. Things could be seen. Instead of the fading grays, there were figures of white against deep black that looked textured and... Was that depth it gave me? Depth? That meant there was a somewhere. A world.
Still, the only white was nothing compared to the real sight before me. Some real colour, be it faint and dull, but real colour right in front of me.
I could feel myself be constructed yet again, some outlines given to me too, feel myself be filled in as I recalled what it was like to be something, I could feel boundaries on me. Like having a body, a host for me. No more floating as such. I recalled what it was like to be a human and remember lying like this many times before in life. But never in such a vessel: a coffin. The body I was lain in didn't phase me and I knew instantly I was not part of this body.
Without even triyng I sat up and almost collided with the source of the colour. It was overwhealming to actaully feel like I was travelling somewhere, that there was things all around me once more. The fact that I nearly hit my head against the colour only made me feel excited.
The colour. Well, I'll tell you of the lack of it first. If I remember correctly, this was a room I had once visited before. A rectangular hall, I could see the walls in front of me, black on black instead of the browns and greens and creams it was to the living. Then I set my focus on the white figures as everything fit into place as I regained my sight. There was definition to the white as well, facial features, all of them wearing expressions of sorrow. Thier lips were pulled down in a sad line, thier eyes empty like wax models. There was life in them but it was nothing compared to that beautiful creature before me.
The colour was the only thing that shocked me in the whole scene. It's beauty as it stood right in front of me. I knew him somehow. But why, and why could I see colour in him? I could recall vague names from the white people standing a little beind him but they meant very little to me. My body, Frank, had known them but I felt little towards them but unexplained pity. This though, this angelic boy, I felt something different for him. It was love, was it not? Why?
His hand pierced stright through me with a hot fire and it hurt so badly, it stang and I screamed, not surprised that nobody moved or heard me. I screamed as he placed his pale hand against my body's cheek. I couldn't move, I was parylised by the pain and it felt like my entire being would disintergrate and bubble away at just the touch. It hurt like nothig I had ever known, just him coming into contact with me.
"I'll never let you go Frankie." the boy whispered. All the pain he caused me yet I held quiet and listened, desparate to know more about him, some clue as to why he meant so much. He knew me somehow. "I love you." He leant over, more of him touching and I caught one last look of him stooping over to kiss that cold dead cheek before I erupted into screams of pain once more, unable to hold myself back. The kiss clung to me, despite it not even coming into contact with me and it spat hot flames of acid fuellled emotion. The kiss was like a burning yet cool flame, it felt better than him touching me but it stang nontheless.
He loved me.
He leant back and the coolness spread over me, soothing me where his body had torn through mine. No, that pain did not make my feelings waver or even stutter. That constant happy hum eminating from some part of me that held to key to his indentity. This was someone that meant something, perhaps the reason for me even being there. To the wolrd I was one person but to him... I was the world. That was the vibe I was getting from him standing there. It was a feeling so tru and pure you could taste it.
Bringing a part of me back from the dead itself.
Nothing would stop these feelings for him. The nothing I had experienced knew of him but now the memory was gone it seemed I had to trust my instinct that I really had feelings for him, deep within me somewhere. The more I looked upon his face, white as snow and hair black as my previous visions, the more I felt attached.
And he cried. A tear rolled down his deathly pale face and he frowned. Someone approached him warily from behind.
"I'll never stop, Frankie." Gerard waved weakly and I got up and jumped off the table, cautious not to touch him as much as I felt compelled to comfort this one important person. If he was important it seemed only right that I cared for him too. I had to, he was the only thing I saw in the room that mattered anything at all. I had to be near him, I wouldn't want to face the sheer blacks and whites without that splash of colour.
"Come on Gerard, you've said goodbye." The boy wrapped a thin little arm around the now-named Gerard's waist. Some of that glorius colour and texture made it's way onto the second boy's arm as it touched Gerard. The colour wrapped itself around him, spread out lazily and sank away when the boy put his hands back into his pockets. The name clicked somewhere in the back of my mind. Gerard. And that boy that lead him back to the curch pews, I recognised him. His voice and general motions. Mikey, was it? Yes, Mikey. I knew that boy too.