Frank, Gerard and Aled...
Frank’s point of view:
I could have been standing here for seconds, minutes, hours, just frozen to the spot, pure horror flowing through me, icy cold and bone-chilling as I stare at the mangled, disfigured remains of the canvas that held Gerard’s beautiful painting; unable to drag my eye’s from it’s violent ruins.
I lean down to touch it, to run my finger along the brutally slashed wounds puncturing the thick skin of the canvas, the disfigured detail of the intricate, spiky black branches, the long, vicious slashes across the gnarled trunk, wondering how anyone could actually bring themselves to do this to something so amazing, so beautiful; to smash it on the floor, to rip it, to injure it, to tear it, to crush it, to defeat it, to utterly and completely wreck it.
I run my trembling fingers along the untouched, blackened, bloody tears that trickle down the jagged slashes, the ruined remains of the masterpiece, cold, disbelieving shivers erupting down my spine, heart still pounding wildly form my mad sprint up the endless flights of stairs.
My fingers freeze on the tears as reality floods back through me, seeping through my veins; mingling and clashing with the shock and disbelieving horror like oil and water.
Aled’s coming to get me.
I jump up in panic, and that’s when I notice a hunched figure standing by the window.
Someone staring unblinkingly at the destroyed canvas.
Someone with horror, pure horror, shock and hurt burning their startling greeny-hazel eyes, etched across their vampire like features.
“Gerard!” I breath, stomach plummeting as I side step the remains of his painting and stumble across the deserted art room towards him. “W-what happened?”
Gerard stays statue-like, his eyes unmoved from the canvas on the floor. I’m not even sure he’s heard me.
“Gerard!” I say louder, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He swallows, but stays silent, eyes wide and staring.
“G-Gerard?” I say more softly, gently rubbing his shoulder tentatively. “What happened?”
He stays silent for so long, I don’t think he’s going to answer, but after a minute, he swallows once more and whispers brokenly into the deafening silence- “I-I don’t know.”
I stay quiet, sensing he’s not finished.
“I came up here, a-after I saw you and A-Aled, and then…” he breaks off, shaking his head wordlessly, his eyes still on the wreckage of his painting.
I slide a tentative arm round his trembling shoulders, unsure of what to say or do.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath and carries on, face deathly white.
“It was just there, ruined on the floor.”
He blinks and looks up at me from under the strands of his raven black hair for the first time, his expression going through me like a knife; his greeny hazel eyes are wide and shocked, brimming with raw, stinging hurt, riddled with confusion, and glimmering with tears threatening to shed his horrified disbelief.
I have no idea how to comfort him, how to numb the pain, so I just slide my arms round his skinny shoulders and pull him into a slightly awkward hug.
Gerard stays frozen for a moment, but then slides his arms uncertainly round my waist, burying his head in my shoulder, his midnight hair tickling my nose as I inhale the soft, mingled scents of charcoal, vanilla shampoo, coffee, oil paints and an unusual, sweet, musky smell that’s just pure Gerard.
His soft breaths are tickling the nape of my neck, making me shiver and goose bumps erupt down my spine.
Probably just the after effects of the shock.
“Who do you think did it?” Gerard says suddenly into my shoulder, his soft button nose almost nuzzling my collarbone.
My thoughts are suddenly blurred and I can’t seem to think straight- even loosing the ability to form a simple sentence.
“I-I don’t know.” I manage, trying to shake off the not entirely unpleasant dizzy fog that’s invaded my brain.
The door bursts open suddenly, making us both jump and spring apart as Aled stumbles into the room.
“Well, well, well.” He sneers, leaning casually on the doorframe. “If it isn’t the two freaky emo fags.”
Gerard blushes and hides behind his hair, staying quiet, but I feel a sudden surge of angry confidence as I take in Gerard’s ruined artwork on the floor, Aled’s cruel, sneering smile, and Gerard’s vulnerable posture.
“It’s called friendship, you dick! Not something you’d know much about.” I spit angrily, fury prickling my insides like red-hot needles.
Aled falters for a moment, the cruel sneer on his face becoming a scowl, clearly furious I’m actually standing up to him.
“Fucking fags.” He snarls.
I open my mouth angrily, but I’m cut off before I can even get the words out.
“So, you like the improvements I made to the freak’s art?” Aled grins spitefully.
In that moment, I hate Aled more than I’ve ever hated anyone before, from his infuriating, cruel, cold, sadistic smirk to his designer trainers, red-hot lava erupting in my chest, burning it’s way along my veins, rising inside me like vomit. He’s done what he’s done to me to Gerard’s painting.
And now he’s going to do it to Gerard.
The pit of lava writhing in my stomach explodes.
“YOU did this?!” I yell, beside myself with fury.
“Yeah, I thought it might teach the freak- and you- a lesson.” Aled smirks his cold, uncaring smirk, clearly amused by my anger, something he’s never seen in me before. In fact, I don’t ever remember being this angry; so angry I feel I could throttle him, I could crush his skull in the floor, I could punch him, again, again, again, until my fist bleeds.
I start furiously towards him, but Gerard’s reaches out and drags me back.
“Don’t Frank|! He’ll hurt you!” Gerard pleads urgently, shaking his head wildly, his eyes wide and fearful.
“Aww, look! The freak’s trying to protect his ickle boyfriend!” Aled snickers patronisingly.
It’s that which makes me snap, his cruel laugh like a trigger.
I shove Gerard off me and fling myself at Aled.
Of course, I’ve forgotten that Aled is the famous school bully, who can defeat anyone.
He punches my lip hard, his knuckles smashing the soft skin, and kicks me hard in the stomach, winding me so I stagger back.
Clutching my stomach, gasping for breath, I look up into his triumphant, jeering eyes and even through the gut-wrenching, gasping pain, I’ve never felt more determined in my life.
I can’t let him win.
I won’t let him win.
I stand up, fucking tall, draw back my arm and punch him with all my might; all my anger; all my regret; all my hurt, my clenched fist connecting with his skull with a dull, resounding crack.
He yells in pain, and stumbles back, clutching his nose which is spurting dark blood like some kind of macabre fountain, his eyes deadly.
“Frank!” Gerard cries, grabbing me by the wrist. “Quick, go!” he drags me out the art room, down the endless flights of stairs and towards the school gates, my knuckles still throbbing, lip still bleeding; trickling scarlet blood down my chin as we run, run to where Aled can’t get us.
Was it okay? I hope the descriptions weren’t too dramatic- I kinda wanted this chapter to be more dramatic than the others, and don’t worry…I think you guys will like the next chapter :P I’ve never really written violence before, so let me know how it was, yeah?
hope you liked and pleeeeease R&R- they make my day and I worked really hard on this chapter :) tell me what you think please- good and bad- and the more reviews I get, the sooner I’ll update, as I’m holiday atm and I have looooads of writing time xD well, kinda haha!
Thanks for reading- love you guys! :D