Gerard´s PoV: Fiction Narrative

(Still Gerard's PoV. I just find it easier than Frank's, I don't know why. ._.)

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An honest smile shadowed onto my face for the first time in what must've been months, long since before I came out to Mikey and Mom. Before I was a freak.

I smiled softly as I looked down at my blueish tattered timetable. Art.

I curled my hand around the cold iron cylinder of a street light, letting gravity embroil me in tight, revolving circles. Wind whistled through my hair and played deafening music on my eardrums, vibrating through my head.

Happiness, I think was the feeling was called.

A foreign sensation, yet a pleasurable one.

I was determined to stay 'happy', to stay sane, for at least a little while longer. Though the same little demon inside of me told me it wouldn't last; it was synthetic and fake.

After all, no-one's really happy anyway; it's not human.

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The familiar smell of gel paint and brushes fogged around me, stalking where I went. My once pearly-white apron grew surrealistic blotches, splatters and rainbows of colour, littering the denim. I rubbed furiously at a deep, lime-coloured stain, only to receive green-tinted blushes contouring the bones in my fingers.

I stopped dead in my tracks as a numbing thought returned to haunt me.

'Somebody's coming to take you away.'

My brain quoted Mikey's harsh words from the previous day. I involuntarily re-lived our late-night conversation, playing through and through the scene that astounded me the most.

"They're coming to get me..." I breathed in horror, directly to myself.

"Who?"

I jumped backwards and gasped.

Frank stood behind me with a sardonic expression and a raised eyebrow.

"Who?" he repeated emphatically. "Who's comi-"

The double-doors flung open. Two men in wh...

... middle of paper ...

...t put in a cell this fancy." I gestured towards the decorative ivory panels running up and down the walls, and the achromic leather couches adorning each corner.

Not often I get to be locked in a room, alone with you, Frankie dear... I chuckled under my breath at my tainted mind. I don't think he heard.

Our heads concurrently lashed around. Stood at the doorway was a small army of men, all systematically dressed in mundane white robes, the frontman of which brought a sickening churn to my stomach.

"That's them," I choked, tugging on his faded green sleeve. Standing in V-formation, they advanced. Grant was at the forefront, followed by Victor and Kellin, who were then succeeded by Andrew, Oliver and Billie. A chain dangled loosely from Grant's breast pocket, hooked on the end was a small silver key. I assumed this was the key to our cell.

Works Cited

PoV Frankie