The Falter of Your Smile {Frerard}

Chapter 2

Gerd POV

"Ray!", I yell up at the stairs as I made my entrance into our old, extremely-lived-in-apartment, which I've generally always hated.

I heard no answer as I graciously put the keys on the marble table. I scoffed to myself as to why he was probably 'so occupied as to not even answer me.'

"Ray, what the hell are you doing!?", I said, making my way up the creaking stairs. God how much contempt I held pint up for these stairs. Every fucking creak it made when I took even the slightest step made me want to rip out every inch of its red wood. But I didn't. I never did. Because I know its just the universe hating on me..like always.

I heard a low grumble when I made it into the hallway, making me giggle a little bit. I always liked making Ray mad, because I literally gave not even a tiny ounce of a shit. I mean maybe a little....

I pushed open his door to find him in his bed, laying on his stomach with his leg being shown from the lack of cover. He looked up at me with a half open eyelid, and grunted once more before turning to face his wall filled to almost every inch with posters, covering his leg up completely by curling into a tiny ball on his bed.

"What the hell do you want?" He grumbled at me with his high pitched voice. I always found it funny that he could be a little intimidating at times, with that squeaky voice.

"To wake your fat ass up." I said with a giggle and he only grunted as a reply. "No, but seriously why are you asleep? Its like nine o'clock." I folded my arms across my chest, and plopped my head on the side of the door.

"Well if you had an actual job, you'd understand." He muttered in his pillow.

"Way to make someone feel bad." I scoffed at him and passed his door, going into my room.

It was a nice room. All of the walls painted a creamy beige color. But then again the wall were still slightly peeling at the corners. Like all of the fucking walls in this godforsaken house.

I gradually made my way to my desk, far off into the right corner of my room(if directly in the middle), and sat down with a loud sigh of exhaustion. I grasped my journal with a slight smile as I read the cover.

It was covered with friend's old phone numbers (which I assumed that they still didn't have after five years), and 'I love you!'s written to the far corners as to not interfere with the middle, which I wrote a few things on myself.

My journal from high school. I never knew exactly as to why I kept it for this long, but I never felt the need to question it. I guess most people that knew me (which were not many) knew that I was over protective over this one in particular object, but who wouldn't be over something that holds all of you thoughts and memories and especially things that would make you uncomfortable with as if someone were to read it. I mean I never really did write things that happened to me on a day to day basses because I always thought it was to sappy for my taste. I mainly just drew in its fin lines. But on rare occasions I would write about something that was appealing to me at the moment, or even someone that would be appealing to me.

I opened it up to the next completely unfilled page, and began to draw.

Whenever I drew, I always began with a certain shape or figure that my hand, I guess you could say, wanted to form. It was almost like whittling to me. Beginning to carve and not really have a reason or yet even an exact idea of what I was destined to carve the piece of wood into.

It was the beginning of a body, I could tell so far, and it seemed to have a smokey background. I was shading in the remainder of its background when I heard some shuffling outside of my window. I turned my head to the left, and let out an almost startled scream when I seen a figure fall onto the floor of my room with a loud crash. I jolted in my seat, falling on my ass with a 'thud'. I closed my eyes as the searing pain in my ass cheeks resided in my crotch.