From a Cabin in the Middle of the Mountains: Part 3
Here it is! :D Thanks for reading.
Gerard rattled around in the kitchen, searching for some sort of edible not-meat to feed his unexpected guest. He sighed rather dramatically and ran his hands through his hair. This is why he hated having people around. Always so particular. But the kid had been really polite so far, and try as he might, Gerard couldn’t quite bring himself to be bitter with him. He could hear Frank shuffling around in the other room, presumably dragging all the quilts around with him.
“Hey, do you mind if I look around a little?” came an inquisitive voice from the doorway.
“Sure, whatever,” Gerard said distractedly. He stepped back and surveyed the pantry, placing his hands on his hips. Tapioca, flour, diced tomatoes. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he really had nothing good to eat in his house. Better get down to Ray’s as soon as the damned blizzard let up. Glancing around, his eyes fell on a carton of oatmeal. When he bent over to look in the cupboard, he discovered that the only bowl he had to make it in was a mixing bowl that was probably bigger than his head. It would have to do.
When he carried the steaming bowl out into the room several moments later, he found Frank sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room with several quilts wrapped around his shoulders. He was brushing the dust off of an old, ragged cardboard box. For the first time, Gerard got a good look at his hands- they were covered in ink, swirling letters and pictures in a multitude of colors. Frank heard Gerard’s footsteps, looked up and flashed him a quick smile.
“Dude, have you ever even played this?” he asked, grinning mischievously. Now that the dust had been cleared away, Gerard could see the faded white lettering on the box: SCRABBLE.
“Not in a long time. It’s kind of hard to play with only one person.” The response sounded rude and sarcastic, even to him, and he cringed apologetically. Frank gave him a strange look- it wasn’t angry or offended, but more analytical. Calculating. Like he was trying to look through Gerard rather than at him. What was that saying, he knew he’d read it somewhere before… “The eyes are the window to the soul?” A sudden sense of discomfort came over Gerard. Frank returned his attention to the box, flipping it over to read the lettering on the side.
“You want to play?” he asked hopefully. Gerard’s brain chose that convenient moment to completely short-circuit, and he stared blankly at Frank for a few moments. Frank looked disappointed and started to set the box aside.
“You don’t have to. I just figured… I mean, if I’m going to be stuck here for days, we might as well get to know each other a little.” Gerard blinked and shook his head in an attempt to jostle his thoughts back into action.
“No! No, that’s not what I… sure, let’s play,” he said hurriedly. He sat down cross-legged opposite Frank and offered him the bowl of oatmeal. Frank accepted it happily, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.
“Ah, thanks!” he said, inhaling deeply. He looked funny, Gerard thought, bundled up in the pile of quilts with his face stuffed into the comically large bowl. “Cinnamon. Man, this is my favorite.” While he enthusiastically started in on the truckload of oatmeal, Gerard pried open the board game. The poor thing had clearly seen better days. The paint on the letters was rubbing off, and the board nearly ripped in half when he picked it up. He did his best to assemble it, and having organized everything into a somewhat recognizable order; he leaned back and looked at Frank expectantly. Frank clutched his oatmeal and stared right back, eyes all wide and innocent.
“Um… do you know how this works?” Gerard asked hesitantly. Frank shook his head, nearly hidden in the quilts.
“I was hoping you did,” he giggled.
“Well, fuck,” Gerard said.
“Ah, we’ll just figure it out as we go along,” Frank said, grabbing a few letter pieces at random and gazing at them thoughtfully. Gerard sighed. He was completely out of his element at this point. He figured he might as well just go with it.
~
“Nuh-uh. There is NO way obse… ob-se-qwa…”
“Obsequious,”
“There is no way obsequious is a word,” Frank continued skeptically.
Gerard smirked at him and pointed to the bookshelf.
“There’s a dictionary on the third shelf. Knock yourself out,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Frank made a face at him, got up and started rifling through the books on the shelf. Gerard absently pushed around some of the wooden letters as he waited.
As Frank was searching the shelf, his eyes fell on something shiny- the soft glint of glass. Curious, he pulled the object off the shelf. It was a picture frame. The picture inside featured Gerard, but he was nothing like the man who sat across the Scrabble board from Frank. This Gerard had jet-black, greasy hair and eyeliner smeared around his eyes. He was grinning happily in a way that Frank had yet to see him grin, and his arm was around a scrawny kid with dorky glasses and a subtle, sarcastic smirk on his face.
“Hey, who’s this?” he asked, holding up the frame for Gerard to see.
The effect was immediate- Gerard’s face went pale, paler than normal. Ghost-pale, translucent. He practically leapt up from where he was sitting and snatched the frame from Frank’s hands.
“No one… it’s no one,” he said hastily, stuffing the frame into a slot on one of the highest shelves. Frank looked at him curiously. What the hell was that all about?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Gerard cut him off. “It’s fine.” There was something strange about his expression; Frank couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it was sad, almost haunted.
He was still curious about the boy in the photo, but since Gerard was obviously distressed, he sat back down and flipped through the dictionary like nothing had happened. He located the o’s… oa, ob…. And there it was, halfway down the first page of ob’s. Obsequious.
“Fuck,” Frank said despondently. And Gerard actually laughed, a slightly high-pitched giggle that was light and genuine. Frank looked up, pleasantly surprised.
“So you do know how to laugh,” he joked, but he was really only half-kidding. Gerard’s smile faded a bit, but the ghost of it still lingered around the corners of his eyes and mouth.
“It’s been a while,” he replied, eyes downcast.
There was silence for a moment, and then Gerard looked back up at Frank and grinned roguishly.
“I get 18 points for obsequious, by the way,” he said, putting as much gleeful emphasis on the word as he could. Frank sighed as dramatically as he could, rolled his eyes and marked 18 points on the scorecard. He then pitched the nearest wooden letter (J) at Gerard, who squawked in protest and sent K, E and V flying back at him. Laughter bounced off the walls of the small cabin, and the awkward moment was forgotten.
Gerard rattled around in the kitchen, searching for some sort of edible not-meat to feed his unexpected guest. He sighed rather dramatically and ran his hands through his hair. This is why he hated having people around. Always so particular. But the kid had been really polite so far, and try as he might, Gerard couldn’t quite bring himself to be bitter with him. He could hear Frank shuffling around in the other room, presumably dragging all the quilts around with him.
“Hey, do you mind if I look around a little?” came an inquisitive voice from the doorway.
“Sure, whatever,” Gerard said distractedly. He stepped back and surveyed the pantry, placing his hands on his hips. Tapioca, flour, diced tomatoes. Now that he thought about it, he realized that he really had nothing good to eat in his house. Better get down to Ray’s as soon as the damned blizzard let up. Glancing around, his eyes fell on a carton of oatmeal. When he bent over to look in the cupboard, he discovered that the only bowl he had to make it in was a mixing bowl that was probably bigger than his head. It would have to do.
When he carried the steaming bowl out into the room several moments later, he found Frank sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room with several quilts wrapped around his shoulders. He was brushing the dust off of an old, ragged cardboard box. For the first time, Gerard got a good look at his hands- they were covered in ink, swirling letters and pictures in a multitude of colors. Frank heard Gerard’s footsteps, looked up and flashed him a quick smile.
“Dude, have you ever even played this?” he asked, grinning mischievously. Now that the dust had been cleared away, Gerard could see the faded white lettering on the box: SCRABBLE.
“Not in a long time. It’s kind of hard to play with only one person.” The response sounded rude and sarcastic, even to him, and he cringed apologetically. Frank gave him a strange look- it wasn’t angry or offended, but more analytical. Calculating. Like he was trying to look through Gerard rather than at him. What was that saying, he knew he’d read it somewhere before… “The eyes are the window to the soul?” A sudden sense of discomfort came over Gerard. Frank returned his attention to the box, flipping it over to read the lettering on the side.
“You want to play?” he asked hopefully. Gerard’s brain chose that convenient moment to completely short-circuit, and he stared blankly at Frank for a few moments. Frank looked disappointed and started to set the box aside.
“You don’t have to. I just figured… I mean, if I’m going to be stuck here for days, we might as well get to know each other a little.” Gerard blinked and shook his head in an attempt to jostle his thoughts back into action.
“No! No, that’s not what I… sure, let’s play,” he said hurriedly. He sat down cross-legged opposite Frank and offered him the bowl of oatmeal. Frank accepted it happily, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiled.
“Ah, thanks!” he said, inhaling deeply. He looked funny, Gerard thought, bundled up in the pile of quilts with his face stuffed into the comically large bowl. “Cinnamon. Man, this is my favorite.” While he enthusiastically started in on the truckload of oatmeal, Gerard pried open the board game. The poor thing had clearly seen better days. The paint on the letters was rubbing off, and the board nearly ripped in half when he picked it up. He did his best to assemble it, and having organized everything into a somewhat recognizable order; he leaned back and looked at Frank expectantly. Frank clutched his oatmeal and stared right back, eyes all wide and innocent.
“Um… do you know how this works?” Gerard asked hesitantly. Frank shook his head, nearly hidden in the quilts.
“I was hoping you did,” he giggled.
“Well, fuck,” Gerard said.
“Ah, we’ll just figure it out as we go along,” Frank said, grabbing a few letter pieces at random and gazing at them thoughtfully. Gerard sighed. He was completely out of his element at this point. He figured he might as well just go with it.
~
“Nuh-uh. There is NO way obse… ob-se-qwa…”
“Obsequious,”
“There is no way obsequious is a word,” Frank continued skeptically.
Gerard smirked at him and pointed to the bookshelf.
“There’s a dictionary on the third shelf. Knock yourself out,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Frank made a face at him, got up and started rifling through the books on the shelf. Gerard absently pushed around some of the wooden letters as he waited.
As Frank was searching the shelf, his eyes fell on something shiny- the soft glint of glass. Curious, he pulled the object off the shelf. It was a picture frame. The picture inside featured Gerard, but he was nothing like the man who sat across the Scrabble board from Frank. This Gerard had jet-black, greasy hair and eyeliner smeared around his eyes. He was grinning happily in a way that Frank had yet to see him grin, and his arm was around a scrawny kid with dorky glasses and a subtle, sarcastic smirk on his face.
“Hey, who’s this?” he asked, holding up the frame for Gerard to see.
The effect was immediate- Gerard’s face went pale, paler than normal. Ghost-pale, translucent. He practically leapt up from where he was sitting and snatched the frame from Frank’s hands.
“No one… it’s no one,” he said hastily, stuffing the frame into a slot on one of the highest shelves. Frank looked at him curiously. What the hell was that all about?
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Gerard cut him off. “It’s fine.” There was something strange about his expression; Frank couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but it was sad, almost haunted.
He was still curious about the boy in the photo, but since Gerard was obviously distressed, he sat back down and flipped through the dictionary like nothing had happened. He located the o’s… oa, ob…. And there it was, halfway down the first page of ob’s. Obsequious.
“Fuck,” Frank said despondently. And Gerard actually laughed, a slightly high-pitched giggle that was light and genuine. Frank looked up, pleasantly surprised.
“So you do know how to laugh,” he joked, but he was really only half-kidding. Gerard’s smile faded a bit, but the ghost of it still lingered around the corners of his eyes and mouth.
“It’s been a while,” he replied, eyes downcast.
There was silence for a moment, and then Gerard looked back up at Frank and grinned roguishly.
“I get 18 points for obsequious, by the way,” he said, putting as much gleeful emphasis on the word as he could. Frank sighed as dramatically as he could, rolled his eyes and marked 18 points on the scorecard. He then pitched the nearest wooden letter (J) at Gerard, who squawked in protest and sent K, E and V flying back at him. Laughter bounced off the walls of the small cabin, and the awkward moment was forgotten.