Broken Ties (Frerard)

I had never been much intrigued by scenery and foliage. I felt as if it were such a thing that was not significant in my life, but yet I found myself to become repeatedly lost in it's hidden beauty of which I'd never previously noticed.
I thought it mainly to be from my boredom of staring at my parents as they continued to argue in the front seats of our family car. That's all they ever did now-a-days. They no longer talked, conversed or complimented, just yelled and tried to hurt one another, both physically and emotionally.
I had hastily grown tired of watching and listening to their ridiculous squabbles, so the simple solution was to plug in my headphones and drown away their empty threats and harsh words with the sweet sound of Corey Taylor's soothing voice as Snuff played through the headphones.
I turned my head to the window and watched as the buildings and busy crowds of people began to form to life right before my eyes.
I remembered many years ago how my parents had been considering the idea of moving to Jersey on my 6th birthday and pitched it to a 5 year old Frank. I detested the idea and threw a fit, kicking, screaming and crying in protest and, obviously, the idea were greatly postponed after that day.
I disliked the idea all those years ago, and I hate it even more now.
If I could, then I would attempt to do as I did back then, but I have learned now that tantrums simply begin to become ignored as you grow older.
In a sense though, I were relieved to finally escape from Italy.
People have come to believe that Rome is a stunning place, packed with breathtaking sights and ancient buildings full of wonders and enchantment but, to say the least, their perceptions are anything but the truth.
I knew for a fact that I'd never miss that wretched place.
Ever.
All those bullies, heart-breaking females and nose-breaking men were certainly not high on the list of things I longed to see again.
I doubt they are even included in the list at all.
The only thing I will ever miss in Italy is my grandmother.
My Dearest Grammy Iero.
Her cookies were to die for, the way the smell drifted from the freshly baked dough to your nostrils, filling your senses with warmth and comfort.
The way her nose crinkled slightly whenever she laughed or smiled and how she used to do it purposely to make me laugh or grin when I were feeling down.
How her hugs felt as if you were being embraced by a padded, woolen blanket, sheltering you from the cold and making you warm, both inside and out.
We had only been gone from Italy for a few hours, but it felt as if an eternity had passed without seeing her.
Mum and dad both knew how much I'd miss Grammy, but they just don't care, they only take notice of the things they want and completely ignore my wishes and requests.
And finally, we had arrived at what would be my home for, hopefully, only a few years.
I quickly slipped out of the car, relieved to finally escape the restricted vehicle in which my parents were still squabbling in.
I was certain that everyone across the street could hear their yelling, and that really wouldn't be the best way to make a first impression.
I retrieved the key from my pocket and unlocked the door to our new home.
I was met with plain, beige walls with nothing else to help compliment it's colourful potential. I sighed and clambered up the stairs to my bedroom.
I were hoping to be met with at least a little colour, or something to look at.
Beige is such a dull colour, I'd have to repaint that soon.
I decided to peer out of the window, hoping to be met with a much more intriguing view than what I had seen so far.
The only thing that seemed to catch my eye in amongst all the trees and people were one man, who seemed to be staring straight back at me.
His raven-black hair tangled atop his head, piercing Hazel orbs boring into my own.
I could tell that he had been watching me for a while, it wasn't just a coincidental look to each other.
The man quickly looked away and shut the blinds to his window. His cheeks seemed to tingle red as the blinds closed, almost as if he were embarrassed that he was caught examining me.
If I were to be completely honest, a large part of me didn't mind being stared at by such a man.
Although it would seem partially creepy to the normal person, I quite liked being watched.
I was oblivious as to whether it was because I had actually been paid attention to or whether it was due to the actual person who were looking at me.
It felt nice to be watched and, honestly, he was rather attractive.
The way his lips curved upwards only slightly at one edge, creating a phantom of a smirk.
The way his wide-blown rusted eyes followed my every movement with intrigument.
The way his calloused hands curled slightly around the edge of the window sill, knuckles turning slightly pale from the force of his grip.
It lead me to wonder why he held the sill with such a tight grip, but I didn't put too much thought into such a thing.
Part of me wanted to move around to see if he would turn to stare at me again. I had chosen to put it to the test, but only in a slightly different way.
I found myself to smile as I turned away from the window and, as soon as he thought I could no longer see him, I noticed him peek through the partioned blinds and watch me once more.

Notes

New story!
I'm so excited to start this story, especially because of the amazing person I'm co-writing this with!
(Check out her individual stories too, they're AMAZING!)
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(If this actually uploads properly this time aha)
~ScreamingRevolver;; <3