Inside Frank
folder
1 through F › American Beauty
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,236
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › American Beauty
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,236
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the movie that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Rose Petals
“What did you do at military school?” Donnie asked, looking up halfway from his drawing.
They were sitting under an elm tree having supervised time outside in the main quad. One of the doctors had recommended Donnie ‘express his feelings visually’ so now he took his sketchbook with him everywhere.
Ricky tripped off the tree root he was trying to balance on and landed in the dirt not far from where Donnie sat. “A lot of marching and drills.” He examined his scrapped elbow critically. “Discipline and humiliation, the best tools for beating down a rotten spirit.”
Donnie nodded and then suppressed a smile as he said; “You’re still rotten.”
“Yeah.” Ricky snorted a laugh and sat down near him. “Can I see?” He craned his neck to try and get a better look at the drawing.
Donnie folded the pages against his chest protectively. “It’s not done yet.”
Ricky shrugged his shoulders and did the staring thing.
Donnie always felt like the other boy was cracking open his brain and peering inside all his thoughts whenever his eyes got that glassy look. It was both terrifying and thrilling to be under such close examination. Without a word he held out the drawing so Ricky could see it.
It wasn’t Frank like Ricky had been expecting. Donnie was always extra protective of his Frank drawings.
It was a confusing muddle of light and dark shading so that it took a moment before Ricky could make out what it was at all. His eye traced the shapes and as it came into view he felt his blank stare twist into a look of repulsion. It was a rose with large blossoming petals that had sketchy half drawn faces that crawled up the steam and seemed to bleed into the petals. Ricky stared as if in a trance as the faces transformed themselves into those of Jane, her father, and his own father.
“It’s not what I was expecting to draw.” Donnie’s voice was sharp and defensive as he quickly pulled the drawing back against his chest.
Ricky couldn’t find his voice. The day was bright and warm but his body felt so cold. He was shaking. He’d told Donnie very little about Jane. The pain of the trial and not being able to see her anymore had been more then he’d wanted to go into. They’d both talked about their Franks. Ricky had even told him that he suspected his father had been the one to kill Lester Burnham. He had no pictures though, all the people in the drawing were only memories in his head, memories that Donnie had somehow seen, or dreamed.
“They made me cut my hair.” Ricky heard himself saying emotionlessly, as though he hadn’t just seen a drawing with his past in shaded lines.
“What? Who did?”
“At military school.” Ricky bit his lip until it bled and then turned to Donnie with his laser eyes and asked; “Did Frank tell you to draw that?”
They were sitting under an elm tree having supervised time outside in the main quad. One of the doctors had recommended Donnie ‘express his feelings visually’ so now he took his sketchbook with him everywhere.
Ricky tripped off the tree root he was trying to balance on and landed in the dirt not far from where Donnie sat. “A lot of marching and drills.” He examined his scrapped elbow critically. “Discipline and humiliation, the best tools for beating down a rotten spirit.”
Donnie nodded and then suppressed a smile as he said; “You’re still rotten.”
“Yeah.” Ricky snorted a laugh and sat down near him. “Can I see?” He craned his neck to try and get a better look at the drawing.
Donnie folded the pages against his chest protectively. “It’s not done yet.”
Ricky shrugged his shoulders and did the staring thing.
Donnie always felt like the other boy was cracking open his brain and peering inside all his thoughts whenever his eyes got that glassy look. It was both terrifying and thrilling to be under such close examination. Without a word he held out the drawing so Ricky could see it.
It wasn’t Frank like Ricky had been expecting. Donnie was always extra protective of his Frank drawings.
It was a confusing muddle of light and dark shading so that it took a moment before Ricky could make out what it was at all. His eye traced the shapes and as it came into view he felt his blank stare twist into a look of repulsion. It was a rose with large blossoming petals that had sketchy half drawn faces that crawled up the steam and seemed to bleed into the petals. Ricky stared as if in a trance as the faces transformed themselves into those of Jane, her father, and his own father.
“It’s not what I was expecting to draw.” Donnie’s voice was sharp and defensive as he quickly pulled the drawing back against his chest.
Ricky couldn’t find his voice. The day was bright and warm but his body felt so cold. He was shaking. He’d told Donnie very little about Jane. The pain of the trial and not being able to see her anymore had been more then he’d wanted to go into. They’d both talked about their Franks. Ricky had even told him that he suspected his father had been the one to kill Lester Burnham. He had no pictures though, all the people in the drawing were only memories in his head, memories that Donnie had somehow seen, or dreamed.
“They made me cut my hair.” Ricky heard himself saying emotionlessly, as though he hadn’t just seen a drawing with his past in shaded lines.
“What? Who did?”
“At military school.” Ricky bit his lip until it bled and then turned to Donnie with his laser eyes and asked; “Did Frank tell you to draw that?”