Battling the Loss You Live For.

Being stupid, I took Mikey’s advice.
I just hated confrontation now. I know it was only Frank, the guy that I was in fucking love with, but I don’t know. It was like… when we were in Jersey last time, when he’d found out his Dad was ill.
…Nerve-wracking.
So, the next day, we were sitting around, just after breakfast. I had the day off.
“Uh… Frank?” I started, very aware of my heart beating.
“Yeah?” he said, looking up from his book. He was reading this new Dan Brown book, Angels & Demons. It had so much hype about it. His Mum was making him read it, and he actually really likes it so far.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up properly and folding down the corner of his page, closing the book. He put it on the arm of the sofa, holding my hand.
“I, um… well… I’ve been noticing… you,” I started, looking down at our hands interlocked. Even his hands looked like they were greying, his fingertips yellowing.
“Uh… thanks?” he said, unsure or confused.
“No… I mean, you. You look so ill. You’re skin is greying, your thinning out-”
“Sazzy, I’m fine,” he cut over me, a slight smile on his face.
“But Frankie, you’re not. There’s something wrong, and I know it. Please, please tell me, Frankie. I hate that you’re like this now.”
“Sazzy. There is nothing wrong.”
“Stop lying!” I cried, yanking my hands out of his.
“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?! If it was the other way round, I would tell you! I do tell you! I tell you everything, and you’re not doing the same!”
He just stood up, walked out of the living room and the front door slammed shut.