Inside Frank
folder
1 through F › American Beauty
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,237
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › American Beauty
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,237
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.
Hands
“This is Gretchen?” Ricky traced the sad eyes with his finger and tried to memorize her features.
“Yeah.” Donnie looked sort of sick. “The nose is wrong and her eyes aren’t quite like that. In my head I see her perfect, but I can’t seem to fit her onto paper.”
Ricky nodded solemnly and felt a pang of jealousy that Donnie could even come close to capturing her at all. It was the eyes that made him pause, they looked so haunted. Donnie said they were wrong but it was that secret look that reminded him of Jane. This girl, this Gretchen, with Jane’s eyes. “The eyes are the best part.” Ricky whispered but Donnie didn’t hear him.
“I worry that she’s still mad at me.” The other boy stared unseeingly past Ricky to the window behind him. It was mid morning but the sky outside was so dark it looked like nighttime. A storm was coming. It hadn’t started to rain yet but the wind was already strong enough to blow the elm branches against the window. They scraped across the pane like fingernails. Scratch. Scratch.
“Who is?” Ricky turned to look outside the window too, half expecting to see an iridescent ghost girl sitting there, perched on the tree branches, smiling sickly at them.
“Gretchen.” Donnie tore his eyes away from the window to focus intently back on Ricky. His voice was raw and almost angry. “That’s why she won’t let me capture her on paper. She’s still mad.”
“Why would she be mad at you?”
“For letting her die… for making it happen.” Donnie bit his lip and looked like a sullen child holding back tears.
“You didn’t kill her though…” Ricky’s voice trailed off and he wondered if perhaps in some way he had. Donnie was often a confusing mess of contradictions. One minute he’d seem brilliant and childlike and the next he’d be scary and dangerous. “I thought you said Frank hit her?”
Donnie hugged his body and glared at the painted tabletop checkerboard. The colors swam before his vision and he felt hot tears gather at the back of his eyelids. “I made us go there. I knew something was going to happen. I made us leave the party.” He swallowed hard. The spit had completely dried from his throat. He’d thought it all out before, but he’d never said it out loud, never heard the words spoken. You killed her Donnie.
Ricky closed the sketchbook carefully and laid it out flat on the table. His movements were slow and calculated.
Donnie’s voice cracked. “I just don’t understand why… why they would want it to happen like that. Why it ended so awful. If any of it was real, then I should have been able to go back. All the pieces should have come together so that I could fix things, but they didn’t! Why would they show it all to me so clearly and then let her die anyway?!” He shook his head angrily and a stray tear flew off his face and hit Ricky’s cheek. “I can’t believe in it because it’s almost worse. There is no god. My mind made it all up. I’m just totally crazy.”
“You’re not.” Ricky startled him by replying in a strong steady voice, “If you can draw Jane, from nowhere, from just a dream you might have caught hanging in the air around me, then there’s something else in store for us. There’s a reason you’re here. Why we’ve meet.” His hand moved across the table to suddenly grip Donnie’s wrist.
Donnie twitched but willed himself not to pull his hand back as a warm thumb made tingling trails across his palm.
Ricky smiled his strange smile, their eyes finally meeting. “You have no lines on your palm, Donnie. Your fate isn’t written yet.”
“Yeah.” Donnie looked sort of sick. “The nose is wrong and her eyes aren’t quite like that. In my head I see her perfect, but I can’t seem to fit her onto paper.”
Ricky nodded solemnly and felt a pang of jealousy that Donnie could even come close to capturing her at all. It was the eyes that made him pause, they looked so haunted. Donnie said they were wrong but it was that secret look that reminded him of Jane. This girl, this Gretchen, with Jane’s eyes. “The eyes are the best part.” Ricky whispered but Donnie didn’t hear him.
“I worry that she’s still mad at me.” The other boy stared unseeingly past Ricky to the window behind him. It was mid morning but the sky outside was so dark it looked like nighttime. A storm was coming. It hadn’t started to rain yet but the wind was already strong enough to blow the elm branches against the window. They scraped across the pane like fingernails. Scratch. Scratch.
“Who is?” Ricky turned to look outside the window too, half expecting to see an iridescent ghost girl sitting there, perched on the tree branches, smiling sickly at them.
“Gretchen.” Donnie tore his eyes away from the window to focus intently back on Ricky. His voice was raw and almost angry. “That’s why she won’t let me capture her on paper. She’s still mad.”
“Why would she be mad at you?”
“For letting her die… for making it happen.” Donnie bit his lip and looked like a sullen child holding back tears.
“You didn’t kill her though…” Ricky’s voice trailed off and he wondered if perhaps in some way he had. Donnie was often a confusing mess of contradictions. One minute he’d seem brilliant and childlike and the next he’d be scary and dangerous. “I thought you said Frank hit her?”
Donnie hugged his body and glared at the painted tabletop checkerboard. The colors swam before his vision and he felt hot tears gather at the back of his eyelids. “I made us go there. I knew something was going to happen. I made us leave the party.” He swallowed hard. The spit had completely dried from his throat. He’d thought it all out before, but he’d never said it out loud, never heard the words spoken. You killed her Donnie.
Ricky closed the sketchbook carefully and laid it out flat on the table. His movements were slow and calculated.
Donnie’s voice cracked. “I just don’t understand why… why they would want it to happen like that. Why it ended so awful. If any of it was real, then I should have been able to go back. All the pieces should have come together so that I could fix things, but they didn’t! Why would they show it all to me so clearly and then let her die anyway?!” He shook his head angrily and a stray tear flew off his face and hit Ricky’s cheek. “I can’t believe in it because it’s almost worse. There is no god. My mind made it all up. I’m just totally crazy.”
“You’re not.” Ricky startled him by replying in a strong steady voice, “If you can draw Jane, from nowhere, from just a dream you might have caught hanging in the air around me, then there’s something else in store for us. There’s a reason you’re here. Why we’ve meet.” His hand moved across the table to suddenly grip Donnie’s wrist.
Donnie twitched but willed himself not to pull his hand back as a warm thumb made tingling trails across his palm.
Ricky smiled his strange smile, their eyes finally meeting. “You have no lines on your palm, Donnie. Your fate isn’t written yet.”