Radio Man

The crackling of the radio is really starting to piss Frank off. It’s starting to piss him off to the point where he wants to throw the stupid fucking thing against the wall. But decides against it because he would then probably cry because then he wouldn’t be able to listen to radio man and his funny antics. And then he would most likely try and fix it. The keyword here is try.

“Well it is now rolling onto 1.10am in the early hours of Tuesday morning.” Radio Man’s voice was only just cutting through the static. “I hope all you listeners had a good work day, and I still think most of you should be in bed. Make sure you get today’s paper as my column is being printed, as it is every week, and you guys know how I like to shamelessly self promote myself. Hang on, what? Bryar shut it. Sorry guys, my sound guy Bryar is being a bit of a pain- no you cannot. Ok, the lines are now open, you know the number to call, if not, it’s 1800-555-435-talk, so come and talk, even if you just want to request a song, for the time being, here is the new song from Muse, and just for those who may have just tuned in, it is now 1.12am,”

The song starts up and then disappears for about 10 seconds, leaving the room to a soft buzzing sound of the radio trying to find the reception again. Frank sighs and puts his finally finished report in his book and stretches his arms above his head and. Yeah. Fuck, that feels good.

He eyes his phone for a few seconds and gives in. He’s only called the station a few times to request a song. It’s not like he has any problems that he needs help with.

The radio person that picks up asks for his name, town and what song he would like so they have it ready before hand. That is cheating, Frank thinks. He always used to wonder how they got the song on so damn quick. Like. What if he changed his mind when he was on air and requested another song, what would they do then? They’d be fucked. Yes. Fucked. He nods at his logic.

“And we have a live one! Hello young man, what’s your name and how are you?”

“Hey, name’s Frank and I’m pretty good, a little over this report I just finished for college,”

“Ah college, I remember college. Oh yes, do I ever. So Frank, why are you up so late?”

“Just finishing the report and listening to your show, seeing as no other radio station plays good songs, it’s either classic or church readings, and I would rather not sing along to the hymns,”

Radioman chuckles for awhile while Frank smiles. He really likes the DJ’s laugh. It makes him laugh and smile. And maybe a little pang goes off in his stomach, but that happens every time he makes someone laugh. It does.

“I agree with you there Frankie, so what song would you like to hear from us tonight?”

“I would like to listen to The Misfits. Halloween,”

“No shit, haha! Man, I got lay-lucky to that song at my prom, good song. Good song. Ok Frankie, here is Halloween for you, thanks for callin’ man,”

The line goes dead and he can hear his song start playing through the radio. He enjoys it, even if the middle of it is silent as the fucking reception dips out. That’s it. Tomorrow he is buying a new fucking radio. A line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s being drawn now.

***

“Did you have to fucking drag me along to get you a new damn radio? I mean, I may be your neighbour but that does not mean we are best fucking friends, ya’know?” Frank turns into the next aisle and stares at the wide range of nice and new radios that keep the reception.

“Mikey, you are my best friend, even if I’ve only known you for like a month. Don’t deny it. You know I am your BFF, and yeah. Just. Fucking help me pick a radio and you can go back to pummelling your fucking fist,”

“Fuck you Frank, I was not fucking... jerking off...” Mikey always sounds awkward when talking about sex, which amuses Frank to no end, since the younger man seriously has almost no shame.

“That’s why when you answered the door you were all like. I dunno. Fucking out of breath and sweaty,”

“Ever heard of a man running to the door after getting out of the shower?” Frank stops at certain shelf and picks up a nice looking radio. Price? Franks eyes bug out. Fuck. That.

“Fuck these are expensive. And hey, you were in clothes, don’t use that excuse man. Just admit it. You’re a fist jockey.”

“Fist jockey my arse, I am no fist jockey. Hey this one looks alright, if you don’t mind some pink?” Frank looks over at the radio Mikey is holding and. Oh. My. God. It is the most girlish fucking thing he’s ever seen. Trust Mikey to pick it up.

“You’re kidding right? Oh god. You’re not. Fuck off Mikey, that wouldn’t even go with my room,”

“What’s wrong with it? Pink isn’t too bad ya’know? How about this one?” Mikey sounds kind of frustrated. But fuck, Frank needs a new radio and it has to be a good one.

“I dun’ care about the brand name; I want something I know will pick up the damn radio signal,”

“God, why are you so obsessed with the radio? Someone on it you know?” Mikey sniffs and moves a shelf down, looking at the new hip radios that are weirdly shaped. And what the fuck? Frank hates it like burning when Mikey uses his snobby tone. It always means the bastard is hiding something.

“No. I just, I dunno. There’s that graveyard show that I like, ya’know the one. Um, fuck. I don’t know his name but he does like a column in the Newspaper too,”

Mikey stops and looks at frank. His eyebrows raised high and his mouth in a twitch of a smile. Frank thinks what the fuck?

“What the fuck, Mikey?” Better to voice your thoughts then keep them in to fester and gnaw at you, right?

“You’re not talking about Gee are you?” Mikey smiles a little more. Frank can tell he’s teasing, and if he were a little gayer he would totally be pouting right now.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s him! He’s fucking good man, have you listened to him?”

Frank’s eyes are probably bulging out of his head unattractively when Mikey starts laughing, crouching over and holding his hands on his knees while his laughter echoes throughout the aisles.

“MIKEY! Fuck up! You’re being loud!” Frank kicks Mikey in the shin and turns around as if he doesn’t know the older man as customers poke their heads into their aisle to see the point of all the noise. Most of them are disappointed when the girlish laughing comes from a twenty-something year old skinny bass player wearing dominatrix whore boots, and promptly go about their business.

“S-sorry! It’s just. Agh, oh my god! I. I can’t bel... I can’t believe you don’t know,” Mikey finally stands, even though he’s still giggling or chuckling, maybe even sniggering. Fuck. Frank doesn’t know but he’s lost as hell with why. And Mikey’s voice is kinda squeaky and weird, but he laughs like a girl? What is up with that?

“Mikey? Dude. What. The. Fuck? What am I meant to know?” Frank snaps, past the point of frustration.

“Y-you know my brother that I always talk about right?” Mikey chokes out, slightly more composed than he was only minutes previous.

“Yeah, the artist or something?” Frank says, blankly. What? His mother never raised him to be smart. He was too pretty.

“Well, yeah he draws.” Mikey explains. “Anyway, his name is Gerard, and uh… his nickname is Gee,” Mikey finally stops all girlish screeching, now just breathing heavy as he brushes his fringe out of his eyes.

“Yeah? So what?” Frank stares at Mikey like he’s some kind of fucking nut job. In fact, what if he is? Oh my God, Frank’s only known him for a month, what if he—Holy shit, he’s been over Frank’s apartment when they were both alone. What if he wants Frank dead?

“Frank. Come on, you can’t be that dense,” Mikey says, obviously thinking Frank is being a shit and joking around.

“Fuck off Mikey, I don’t—” click. Frank’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Mikey nods fervently, looking long-suffering.

“Serious?” Frank says, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“Yep,” Mikey says, growing bored with looking at Frank and examining a modern atrocity of a radio, also a hot pink colour. At this point, Frank starts to reassess his view on Mikey being straight.

“Whoa,” Frank says, partly because Mikey knows Gee but also because man, Mikey is a major fruit!

“Yeah,” Mikey says with a smirk, and for a horrified second, Frank thinks he can read minds, and he just does not need to know that Mikey is gay. Gee? Yes please! Mikey? Euurgh.

“Shit, eh?” Frank says when he realises what Mikey is getting at. Oh my God, Mikey knows Gee! Ohmigod!

“Mhmm,” Mikey says distractedly, now looking at a bright purple one with bunny ears?

“So,” Frank began, slowly grinning.

“Uh huh,” Mikey said, still not listening.

“Wow,” Frank said, slightly dreamily.

“Okay, we can stop with the fucking one word sentences.” Mikey snapped, “It’s not that great.” Oh but it is you see, Mikeyway!

Radioman and Mikey’s brother are the same exact person! That, in Frank’s mind is like, fucking whoa. That’s seriously insane! “That’s fucking awesome, man! I love that fucking show. Dude!”

“No,” Mikey says, annoyed.

“Aw, come on! You’re my neighbour and my BFF! It’s only fair I get to meet him!” Frank turns on the kicked puppy look.

“No,” Mikey repeats, more firmly this time.

“Why the fuck not?” He abandons the kicked puppy look for a scowl, hoping his second method of intimidation will work. Apparently, Mikey is not threatened.

“Because he just got out of a fucking shitty relationship and he doesn’t need another.” Mikey’s usual monotone always disappears when he’s talking about his brother. It kind of freaks Frank out a bit... sort of, kinda.

“Fuck you. And yeah, I know. He said it on the radio, Mikey. And fuck you again, how do you even know I want a relationship?”

“No.” Mikey says, his tone final. Actually, he sounds a little bit like Brian. Frank wonders if they are secretly dating and kind of zones out to imagine the torrid affair the two would have.

“Mikeyyyy.” Frank whined. “Come on man, I’m like a real big fucking fan.”

“A fucking groupie more like it.” Mikey snapped, looking slightly revolted.

“Dude! How do you even know I am fucking gay?” Frank says, alarmed.

“Well, you kinda just proved it then for certain, dickweed. But I see the way you look at other guys, and uh, I am your neighbour. It’s a shitty building, the walls are paper thin.” Frank feels the slight blush run across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Wow, that... really sucks. Now his best friend knows he has a hopeless crush on—

“Oh,” Frank says again.

“Yeah. Oh,” Mikey says, looking inexplicably angry. “I mean, seriously, Frank. Why would I let him meet you if you’re going to... jack off after!”

“Please, I promise I won’t do anything, he probably won’t appeal to me anyway,” Frank says desperately, “I’ve never even seen his fucking face.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Mikey said, “And you jack off without even knowing what he looks like? That’s pretty sick, man.”

Frank ignores the second part of Mikey’s rant to say, “Wait, are you saying your brother is hot?”

“No! I am just saying. A lot of people tend to... like. His looks,” Mikey stammers, and Frank barely holds in his laughter. “I’m still not introducing you, you colossal fag!” he adds shrilly.

“Well fuck you then.” Frank snaps. “Let’s just choose a fucking radio so I can drop you off and I can jerk off to loud gay porn, you fucking closet case.”

“Ew!” Mikey exclaims, “And I am not!” Frank nods disbelievingly and continues into the next aisle.