The Kiss of Vanity Blessed Me With A Spiritual Murder

The next week, it rains heavily.

Gerard's mother insists on him taking the Chevy to town, but he refuses. He likes the rain, he owns an umbrella, and he's pretty sure his feet will stay dry if the laces on his docs are tied firm enough. The clouds have a sepia vibe to them while Gerard's jeans are black, just like the rest of his clothing, and he can't help but to feel as if this entire thing were framed. He feels comfortably trapped, way too used to his surroundings even though they're completely new and unfamiliar- it's unsettling, really, the smell of dirt entices him too much.

The October air is hung over him rather tightly, and his hair is already catching a glimpse of the moist. He knows his roots are probably showing, contrasting rat-brown against the raven, but he pays it no mind as he's walking towards the giant, gloomy building that is the library. His ankles feel sore since his shoes still aren't used to the ground of this place, and he can't help but to wonder if it's a good thing that he isn't following.

The door is visibly old and crooked in a few places, the creak reverberating across the floor ungracefully. Gerard frowns as he's closing it behind himself, shutting his umbrella before he pushes it into the bin beside the entrance. He pulls his earphones out and turns the music off, sloppily crossing the distance between himself and the counter.

The walls in the room are old, the paint chipped and the concrete broken in a few random places. The ceiling is high and the windows round, with thick bronze sills and stained panes blocking the rain from falling in. The bookshelves are all made out of dark wood, stretching out into heights Gerard would never climb, not even for a book.

"Can I help you?" the dark-haired girl from behind the counter asks, leaning against the surface and smiling politely. Her eyes are on Gerard and he suddenly feels like he's suffocating- it's been too long since he'd done this last.

"Uh," he mutters, picking himself up, "yes, actually."

She raises both of her eyebrows, face soft, and waits for him to form a coherent sentence.

"I'd like to be a member here," he says finally, and she smiles at the way his cheeks flush dark red from awkwardness.

"Certainly," she smiles. "I'll need your name, age and address. A contact number isn't mandatory, but it's best if you provide one if you have it. Just in case, you know?"

*

Gerard's fingers feel damp when he grabs a copy of 'The Alchemist' and strolls down the aisle of books, his docs thudding across the thick, wooden floor. The room smells like ancient oak and rotting paper combined with something sugary, something only dated books can provide. Perhaps disintegration can taste as sweet with books as it can with humans.

The library is almost empty, and the sound of the rain pouring down from the sky is echoing deep across the hallways. Gerard's shoulders are heavy as he's pacing towards one of the secluded corners, looking for the letter O, and he almost trips over someone who's sitting on the floor, their back against the bookcase with their knees pulled in. They're rather small, and Gerard feels relieved for a moment since he's saved from awkwardly asking them to move so he could pass through.

He knows his footsteps are loud contrasting the silence in the air, but the person doesn't flinch even when Gerard accidentally drops the book he was trying to grab from the shelf. He curses on his clumsiness and quickly grasps the decaying paper that hit the floor only seconds ago, his hands trembling a little from the anxiety. It's rather sad how people can make his nerves burn just by their presence, and not even acknowledging his- he feels pathetic only thinking about it.

He notices that this part of the library is noticeably colder than the other- even though there's no logic in the fact whatsoever- but it's okay, since his face is probably heated enough to keep the entire town warm for a while.

His chest still feels clogged when he turns around to walk away, tripping over his own feet. He nearly makes a run for it, but messily bumps into the girl from the counter after a few steps and almost falls over her. Thankfully, his arms don't fail him this time and the two books he's hugging don't abandon his lap, leaving him to heave a sigh of relief.

“Shit, sorry,” she smiles up at him, apologetic. “You okay? You look like you might start screaming bloody murder any minute now.”

Gerard stammers for a while and blushes extensively, just muttering incoherent words, but then inhales sharply and nods to himself, firm. He’s got this. “Yeah. All good. No problem.”

“You’re cute,” she giggles at him like he’s four again and his grandma caught him stealing her chocolate from the kitchen cupboard.
He is about to mumble something and embarrass himself even more than he already has, but the girl’s attention immediately focuses on something behind him. “Oh, Frank, don’t sit on that cold-ass floor. You’ll get yourself sick.”

“Leave me be,” is muttered from the position on the floor. The voice is low, and seemingly agitated- but still somehow indifferent, like he was annoyed but still too nonchalant to do anything about it.

To emphasize his point, ‘Frank’ turns the page of his book loudly, making the girl whose name Gerard still hasn’t learned roll her eyes.

“You’re such a bitch,” she grins and walks over to him, ruffling his hair before heading down the narrow hallway of bookshelves. Gerard stands still, looking at the way the stranger’s unruly hair is poking out in weird directions now that it’s been messed up, as he huffs and focuses back onto his book. Gerard is sort of transfixed, and he isn’t sure why- there’s probably something alluring about people who are so entranced by the thing they’re doing that everything around them disappears.

And he doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the stranger’s face is suddenly on better display and his eyes are wandering all over Gerard- and he doesn’t appreciate the attention. It’s ripping, just like any other, because Gerard is awkward and always messes up any form of communication- whether it’s the lady from the supermarket, someone who randomly asked for directions on the street or the sub guy who taught him Algebra in freshman year of high school.
He’s suddenly even colder, and his arms seem frozen in place just like his entire body does as he tries to move, at least an inch. He hates being caught staring.

“What?” the stranger asks and Gerard can’t seem to find his mouth, or his throat, or any words to answer that question with.

So he gives up after a few moments of holding that questioning look the guy is giving him, and he runs off.

*

That night, he feels watched.

It’s like a shadow crept underneath his doorstep and into all four of his bedposts, keeping him awake and chasing away the nightmares about to come. His mother still hasn’t bought that melatonin.
He waits for the pill to begin to work, but it doesn’t, and it’s strange. He’s pretty sure he’s taken it, and swallowed it- maybe God just doesn’t want him to sleep tonight.

He feels restless, so he scratches at his wrist a lot, it might even bruise since he’s doing it quite brutally- his grandma used to say that he should probably see someone because of that.

It’s not a chilly night, so he keeps his window open and lets the dew stain his sills. He supposes he likes these calm, quiet hours of the morning- they make him think he might feel like one soon enough. His mind is racing back to the scene at the library, and he feels a pang of shame hit his upper gut as he remembers the way he just stormed off clumsily, barely even saying ‘goodbye’ to the girl from behind the counter. He’s lived in this town for nearly a week now, and he’s already got two people weirded out by his below-minimum level social skills. Way to go, moron, he thinks.

The door to his room opens, and his mother’s head peeks in. He jolts, startled, but soon sighs and tries to steady his heartbeat as she gets closer to his spot on the bed.

“Can’t sleep,” she explains, straightening the cushion against the wall and leaning against it. She sneaks a hand in Gerard’s hoodie pocket and grabs his pack of smokes. “Only one.”

“It’s cool,” he tries to smile, and motions for her to light him one, too.

“I’ve been listening to the local radio station earlier,” she says as she tucks the cigarette between his lips, “and they interviewed some guy whose cattle got, like, brutally slaughtered last night. An entire herd of sheep. It happens a lot ‘round here, apparently.”

Gerard all but snorts, driving the newly inhaled smoke right into his skull. He coughs a little, and says, “Are there wolves around here? Or does a rich family of vegetarian vampires inhabit the area? By the looks of this place, the chances are pretty slim for the former.”

She punches his arm lightly, chuckling, “Oh, shut up. You’re right, though. No wolves. Or bears, for that matter. There’s practically nothing of that sort, that’s why people thought it would be great to breed cattle here.” She breathes out, and a cloud of smoke travels towards the ceiling. “Joke’s on them.” He hums, suspicious, waiting for her to continue her thought. “The guy also said that there were random splotches of, like, black everywhere. Oil tar, or something- really thick and sticky, all over the remainders of the poor creatures.”

Gerard frowns thoughtfully, taking a drag. “That’s some hardcore 'Silence of The Lambs' bullshit right there.”

She nods to herself, even though she knows he can’t see the gesture. He can hear the sound of her cigarette dropping into the glass of water next to his bed. He passes her his own, and she takes the last drag before chucking it next to hers in the glass. A few moments pass merely in silence, but then she notices the library books Gerard dropped on his nightstand earlier. “You got ‘The Alchemist’ again? Jesus, child, do you not know of any writer except for Lovecraft?”

He rolls his eyes, smiling to himself. “Shush yourself.” He sighs, then, “I came off as a total weirdo in the library, though. No wonder I have no friends.”

She sneaks her fingers across his scalp, removing the stray strands of hair and sliding them behind his ear. “What happened?” she asks.

“Stuttered a lot, tripped a lot. Stared a lot,” he huffs bitterly. “I wish someone punched in the face right there and then.”

“Was it staring at cute guys staring, or was it spacing out and accidentally focusing my eyes on your boobs staring?” she queries, stealing another one of his cigarettes.

“More of the second one,” he sighs.

“So he wasn’t cute?” she teases, and he flips her off casually.

“Didn’t really see him properly,” he admits.

She sighs, “Oh, well.” She puts the stick into Gerard’s mouth, making him yelp, but nod in thanks anyway. “You can finish it, I’m calling it a day.”

“Sweet dreams,” he smiles as she kisses his cheek.

“To you, too. Don’t stay up for too long. School night, remember?”

“Don’t remind me,” he whines, dramatically throwing his hand in the air while trying not to ash everywhere. He manages, surprisingly, and takes a violent drag as she’s closing the door.

Those sleeping pills better start working soon, he thinks.

*

Apparently, the school isn’t really large.

It has these massive auburn doors and yellow brick walls, with a dark red roof and thick ebony sills that stretch out all around the building which, in itself, isn’t really tall; rather bungalow-ish, actually, but still wide and welcoming in its entirety.

His hands feel sweaty as he enters the Chemistry classroom, and the teacher must’ve noticed his trembling, since he didn’t bother to make him introduce himself. Gerard is pretty thankful for that. Such a shame that he isn't going to use that metaphorical grave he's dug out for himself last night hoping he'd get publicly humiliated enough just to drop inside and have an eternal nap.

He’s invited to sit down beside a hippie boy with a wide smile and a head full of soft brown curls. He doesn’t catch his name, the guy doesn’t talk a lot- but his vibe is enough to make Gerard’s head spin just a little bit less than it has since he’s woken up this morning. It’s relaxing, really- having someone bright beside you makes breathing a whole lot easier in general.

He’s probably spacing out too much during the entire time, though, and the guy notices that, so he’s the one to shake him out of his trance as the bell rings.

“Hey, wake up. What do you have second period?” he offers kindly, and Gerard dies just a little bit inside- nice people truly are a blessing. "I'm Ryan, by the way."

“Uh,” he blinks, trying to call the picture of his timetable back into his memory. “English, I think.” Then he recoils, and bites his lip awkwardly. "Oh, and- Gerard."

Another smile spreads across Ryan's face, a bigger one this time, “Cool. I can take you there, if you’d want?”

A corner of Gerard’s mouth twitches upwards, and he finds himself picking his books up clumsily. “Yeah, uh... I think I'd like that."

Notes

hello, friends. *hi-fives all 2 of you*

i'm kind of on the edge about this chapter, it's not exactly the best i can do but meh. i'm recovering from a pretty hectic writer's block, so i guess it's fine concerning the circumstances. i got my guitar taken away today because my dad says i don't do anything else- [not even write, for that matter! so i suppose one good thing came out of it] i feel the teenage punk ready-to-kick-your-ass vibe deep within me. i'll snag it back tomorrow, anyway, so whatever.

the next update should be up sooner than this one, since this was as delayed as it was mostly due to an already mentioned writer's block, and sickness- i get zombified and bedridden like twice a month i swear to god- but no promises.

xomls