Battling the Loss You Live For.

I folded the letter back up, slotting it into the envelope, trying not to get it wet from both my tears and the rain. I lifted up my sunglasses, wiping my eyes quickly and placing them back over my eyes. I stood up, putting the letter in the front pocket of my jeans and lifted the hood of my hoodie over my head, walking down the steps and towards the newsagents that was about five minutes walk. The guy behind the counter looked quite young - spiked hair and a plain black t-shirt.
“Packet of Marlboro Reds, please,” I uttered, not too fast and not too slow, so he wouldn’t think I’m 10 or something.
“How old are you, kid?” he asked, his eyebrow arched.
“Old enough to buy a pack of fags,” I grumbled, pulling out my purse. I showed him my student ID, which stated I was 16. He nodded, leaning back to pick out the carton.
“Twenties?” he asked. He still looked at me like I was a minor. I nodded.
“And a yellow lighter,” I added. He gave me a look, like he was eyeing me up or something. Fucking weirdo.
“No doubt it’s your favourite colour,”
“It’s not, actually,” I snapped. He wasn’t exactly the best person I’ve met. He acted like he was my father, and I just announced I was a prostitute. I probably looked like one, actually. My hair was all ruffled under my hood, and I was wearing sunglasses when it was raining out. I didn’t care much, though.
“Six-eighty-five,” he stated, sliding the packet and lighter over the table. I passed him the exact money, grabbing my stuff and walking out towards Fr- my house.

I sat on the step again, opening my cigarette carton and removing the foil shit, sliding one out and resting it in between my chapped lips. I lit up, exhaling the intoxicating nicotine. I always had a weakness for it. To me, not smoking was like… not letting Paris Hilton go shopping… or dying her hair black or something. I’d love to see that…
I heard a click and a push, and I looked behind me to see Charley stumbling out. He rubbed his eyes, sitting next to me.
“When did you start smoking again?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Just now.”
He was silent for a while.
“…Oh. Can I bum one off you?” I passed him the packet and the lighter. He took them, lighting it up quickly before the weather decided to be a bitch and blow the rain in our direction.
“You need to ring Frank,” he stated, passing me the carton and lighter back. I put them in my pocket, along with the letter.
“I know…” I said, rubbing the side of my face. I had a huge headache. I finished smoking my cigarette quickly, leaving Charley out there, and going back inside. I walked into the kitchen, seeing it empty without… Frank. It seemed weird.
I pulled out my phone from my back pocket, and started dialling Frank’s number, then stopped. I needed a calling card or something…
I hunted around the kitchen, until I found one. I looked used, but it should work… but then I remembered that you have to use a card within two weeks. We were in Jersey for two weeks. I started my hunt again, and found a whole stack of new cards.
I did what the instructions stated, and then heard a ringing tone.
“H-hello…?” I heard the familiar voice sound, and then yawn.
“Frank?”
He was suddenly wide awake.
“Sazzy! Oh my God, I thought something happened… I told you to call me when you landed!” he complained. I could tell he was genuinely worried. It made me smile.
“Frankie… I’m okay. Sorry. I didn’t know Charley was coming, and I was going to ring you on the way back, but-”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re okay. So what happened?”
“Well, Charley told me you talked on the phone and something… I don’t know what’s going on… I just miss you so fucking much,” I whispered, slumping in my chair. I felt so drained.
“I miss you too, baby. It’ll be okay.”
“I found your letter,” I said, remembering the letter pressed into my stomach. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. I thought… it’ll be good, or something. You know?” he said. I could imagine him sitting up in bed, his knees tucked under his chin.
“Yeah. Did I wake you? I’ll call you later, if you want,” I said, realising that it’s probably around five in the morning there.
“No. Stay. I just… we have to talk,” he said, whispering now. I think he just realised what time it is, too.
“Has Charley said anything to you, yet?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation from dying and being just a bunch of ‘I miss you’s’.
“No. Why? Was he meant to?” I asked, a little confused. As usual, Frank already had everything planned.
“Yeah. I’ve got most stuff planned out for you, okay? You have to see your Mom today and tell her everything. That we’re here and you’re moving into my place. And you have to start moving in today, too,” he explained. I was pretty shocked. Today?
“I know… it might be a little soon… but it’s the best way. Really. Trust me on this,” he said. If only I was there right now.
“You’re too good to me,” I mumbled, pulling off my glasses. I heard him chuckle.
“You’re too good for me.”
There was silence for a while.
“Let me finish. I know that… living there on your own is going to be hard. So… Charley, Sydney and Katie are moving in, too. They already have, actually. Well, they’ve told their parents, and Charley’s Mom doesn’t really mind, naturally. She never did. Shine doesn’t mind because she’s moving in with you, and Sydney’s parents were a bit funny but they’re okay now,” he explained, finishing. I didn’t say anything.
“Sazzy? Are you there?” he sounded worried. I needed a cigarette.
“I’m going to live in your house with Charley, Sydney and Katie?” I said, not believing much of this.
“If you want to. I think it’s best for you.”
“Best for me?”
“Yes. I can’t be there, but I know they can. Charley’s the next best thing to me, too,” he said, joking to try and lift the heavy and unpleasant atmosphere. He sighed. He does a lot of that, lately.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I mumbled, picking at the rip on my jeans.
“Making you go through this,”
“It’s not your fault. It’s inevitable,” I said, trying to reassure him. I couldn’t do much when I was feeling shitty, though. He sighed.
“I miss you,” he whispered, and I heard his voice breaking.
“No. Frank… Don’t, cry. Please…” I cried, my eyes stinging yet again. I heard him sniff, and cough a bit.
“Fucking smoking. Whatever I do, I bloody cough,” he mumbled, trying to lift the mood, yet again.
“You…” he started, but he didn’t finish his question.
“Umm…” I hummed. I couldn’t lie to him.
“You started smoking again, didn’t you?” he said. He knew me like the back of his hand. I didn’t say anything. I can’t lie to Frank. I heard him sigh again.
“I saw it coming, really. I knew… with Charley around you, especially… he smokes like a madman,” he said. I hummed in agreement.
“I don’t love you any less,” he said. How he knew what I was feeling over the phone, I didn’t know.
“It’s not that… you’re not disappointed in me?” I asked, tracing patterns in the wood of the table.
“It’s not your fault. It’s inevitable,” he mimicked me, a smile hinting in his voice. I grinned.
“Anyways. You better go back to sleep,” I stated, sitting up from my slouch.
“Yeah. And you go and shower and go see your Mom. Katie and Sydney are going with you. Make sure you don’t stink of fags,” he warned. I could hear the grin in his voice. I giggled.
“I love you,”
“I love you too.”
I hung up quickly, trying not to cry. Again. Right on queue, Charley sauntered in, stinking like cigarettes.
“Did you speak to Frank?” he asked, sitting next to me. I nodded.
“This place was pretty much cleared out of their clothes and shit when they decided they were staying. So… We basically just have furniture and shit, so-”
“Okay. I get it,” I mumbled, putting my head in my hands, elbows propped on the table.
“I just can’t believe I’m doing this… you know?” I mumbled. He saw him nod from the corner of my eye, and felt him place and arm around my shoulder.
“You can do this.”