Melody of Innocence

I decided to dare myself. And by that, I meant I decided to be an idiot without actually deciding to be one. I think that sums up my life quite well.

I continued staring at the raven-haired boy, who chatted and smiled at the two brothers as if the world was perfect and had no flaws whatsoever. Something about his melody was just so addicting, as if it was nicotine. It was so dark and chaotic, but at the same time so clear and true. It was as if he was the epitome of music himself. Which, for all I know, could be true.

For the whole time I was staring at him, sometimes he stared back, which, for some reason, made me feel weird. But not in a bad way. If that made sense. His gaze made me felt something in my stomach, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before.

I wrapped my hands around my mug, and took another sip. It was getting cold. Perhaps I should do some kind of drinking game – take a sip every time the cute boy stares at me. I decided to do it, and my drink was done under three minutes.

I was debating to get another cup or not for awhile, until the boy and the brothers stood up and left the shop, leaving the ceramic mugs on the table. I stare at their empty mugs for a moment, until a person – the waitress? – came to take them back and clean them. I then stare at my own mug for a moment before standing up and leaving the shop.

Outside, I flinched at the sudden temperature change. I was never very good with handling the cold. Or heat, for that matter. I prefer to stick with warmth.

“Cold?”

I glanced over to my right, and nearly had a heart attack when I saw the boy with the addictive melody. How did I not notice his song was beating right next to me?

His hood was up now, covering his face with the shadow. Due to the shade, his eyes looked sunken in, making him look more tired than ever. However, his lips formed a smirk, and between them was a cigarette.

“You smoke?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You look a bit too young.”

“I’ve seen 13-year olds smoke before,” he said, taking out his cigarette. “Plus, this isn’t lit. I lost my lighter, and I miss the feeling of this in my mouth.” He spun the stick between his fingers for a moment, watching it carefully. His eyes then went back to mine, and looked me up and down. Then back at my eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve got a British accent,” he pointed out, then placed his unlit cigarette back into his mouth. “You’re British?”

“Yes, if that isn’t obvious enough from my accent that you just pointed out as British.”

He laughed shortly. “What city are you from?

“Essex.”

“Essex?”

“It’s a small city near the outskirts of London. It’s quite like the British counterpart of Belleville.”
“Perhaps you’ve got a thing for small cities,” again, he took out the cigarette. Only this time, he also took out the box and place it back inside. When I looked inside the box, only a quarter was left.

He noticed I was looking and smirked. He seemed to always be smirking, or have no emotion at all. “You smoke?” he asked, tapping a finger on the cigarette pack.

I shook my head.

He shrugged and stuffed them into his back pocket, and shifted his position. “Anyway, I asked if you were cold.”

“And the answer is no,” I answered. “Well, not really. It just takes me a moment or two to adjust.”

He shrugged again. “It’s getting late,” he said, observing the sky. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the rumors that go around about this city,” he looked back at me, his face expressionless.

I nod, shuddering a bit in fear.

“Most of them are false, don’t worry,” he reassured. “But it’s still not recommended to be walking around alone after the sun sets.” He looked me up and down again. “Especially for a beautiful girl like you.”

I blushed at the sudden compliment, and he simply smirked. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he said, his fingers suddenly wrapped around my wrist and pressing slightly.



She had a pulse.
But she didn’t have a song.
How could she not have one? Everyone has a song. That’s what keeps them alive.
My mind wandered back to the cliché saying: “Music is my life.” I internally chuckled. Those people didn’t know they were actually completely right about that. In fact, that’s why everyone loves music. Who doesn’t love music? Music is literally everyone’s lifeline.

But this girl – this fucking gorgeous girl – doesn’t even have a single beat of a song playing. She’s just… nothing. There’s nothing I can listen to.

And fuck, did I want to.

I’m a hormonal teenage boy, and it’s fine to be attracted to someone. Especially someone who was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Or at least, seen with your own two eyes in real life.

The problem here, is, that I’m not sure that she is a person. Or a living one.

So I took her pulse. And it was there. A normal pulse, high and elevated. On second thought, it’s not that normal. It’s beating faster than normal. Then again, I did just compliment her.

“Where do you live?” I asked, slowly letting go of her wrist, then turning back to face her. I wanted to do nothing more but to hold her hand again, but we just met. Human nature is weird.

“How do I know you’re not one of the rapists?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

I simply laughed, and that made her frown a bit. “Do I really look old enough to know what to do during sex? I’m only fifteen, you know.”

“You’re fifteen too?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I lie about my age?” I said. “So you’re fifteen… Are you going to Belleville High?”

“Well obviously,” she rolled her eyes a bit. “That’s the only school here.”

“The only prestigious school,” I corrected. “Well not really, but you get the point.”

She chuckled a bit.

“So, what’s your name?” I turned around and started walking again. I heard her footstep on the gravel beside me, and that made me smile a bit.

“Catherine, but you can call me Cath or something that tickles your fancy,” she said.

“’Tickles your fancy’?” I laughed at Cath's choice of words, doubling over. “Is that a phrase that British people use?”

“Uh, no, not really,” Cath was blushing. “It just popped in my head for some reason…”

I chuckled, and resisted the urge to mess up the hair under her beanie. “So, Catherine, huh?” I repeated. I turned around again, and stretched my hand out. “Frank,” I smiled.

Hesitantly, she stretched out her own hand, and we shook hands. “So,” I turned around and started walking again. “Where do you live?”

Notes

I was wondering if things were going too fast in this story, but then I remembered how fucking smooth he is and the fact that this is, in fact, Frank Iero we're talking about here.
also, is 'tickles your fancy' a legit phrase i forgot woops

anyway, if any of you guys are also ATL fans, you should check out my ATL fics! :-D (this is shameless self-promotion, but how else can i get more readers?)
you can check them out here. <3

if you're enjoying this story so far, don't be afraid to leave a comment (and maybe subscribe and rate, which will be gr10)!
sorry if this chapter is shit aha.