The Technicolor Daydreamer; Folie A Deux.

Car ride.
An interesting one.

I opted for a very comfy position...in Frank's lap, no less.

If it were any other guy, i'd have some reservations, but given the fact that he's honestly treated me with the kind of manners that are hard to find these days, I figured it'd be okay. I can see through fakeness pretty easily.

After all, he wasn't all "OH YEAH BBY" or anything when the idea was suggested.
In fact, he was pretty reluctant.

(And I thought decency in boys was out of style.)

Frank's cheeks were flushed slightly for the entire ride, his eyes closed every once in a while and just a hint of concentration in his features.

Was I heavy?I sure hope not; i'm hardly an ounce over 110, last time I checked.

Frank's friends were an incredibly nice bunch.

Mikey was...awkward, in a cute way. But he introduced himself, smiling slightly from behind the bifocals carefully balanced on the end of his nose.

Bob was...shy. A gentle giant, really. He didn't say much, but he did make me feel welcome, even though he was hiding behind that pretty-colored fringe in his eyes.

Ray was just as genial, and more conversational. He also happened to be just as much of a techie as I was, but probably caught less flack for it than I did, considering he was as big as a tank, with untamed hair to match.

Gerard was chatty, sort of a wiseguy (as if that wasn't apparent), and also a nerd. He talked almost the whole duration of the ride until he realized he'd lost his little audience to their daydreams, myself included. Upon that realization, he turned up the radio to a comfortable volume and quietly sung along under his breath at a level I presume he thought no one could hear him at.

But I heard him.

He sounded...breathtaking.

Meanwhile, Bob was tapping his fingertips on the window to the beat absentmindedly, weaving complicated rhythms while his face remained nonchalant.

With at least a few more minutes left, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the window behind me, being lulled into a state of...

...hibernation.

Because sleep meant snoring, and my snoring was bad.

And bad's an understatement.

A few times, my snoring's gotten so wheezy and violent that i've stopped breathing altogether.

I was dying, you see.

You can't buy medicine with Monopoly money, and the pills I needed -still need, actually- are overpriced.

I suppose I can't expect a greedy American pharmaceutical company to care about some random little girl. I'm merely a sales number to them.

Regardless, yes, I was suffocating to death...on nothing but air.
How contradictory.

Which, of course, prompted my mother to immediately drop to her knees at my bedside and start praying, fervently, until I inhaled again and she wearily shuffled back to bed.

Obviously, it worked.

Because i'm here talking to you.

Which...I can't decide is a good thing or bad thing yet.

We'll see.

Fast-forwarding aheadfor the sake of keeping your attention, i'll skip to a chance encounter I had the displeasure of being subjected to.

I'd gone inside the school, waiting for Frank, but decided to see what he was up to and doubled back in the direction i'd seen him walk in. There was a trace of worry in his eyes.

When I rounded the corners, my eyes narrowed instantly...and angrily.

...I was also kind of squinting.

I was greeted with the repulsive visage of none other than Bert McCracken.

I'll spare you the laundry list of insults, but suffice it to say that he belonged under a jail for the rest of his miserable, grimy days just for looking in my direction.

He'd been trying to sweet-talk me into his grasp from the moment freshman year started, always looking at me like some sort of meal to devour rather than a person. He didn't even know my name, just that I was a trophy he'd set his sights on. Strangely enough, he was giving Gerard that same look, smirking as he did.

I glared wordlessly as he sneered at Gerard and Frank, who both had their backs turned to me. McCrackhead said something else, then flitted his icy serpentine eyes over to me, licking his dry lips as they formed the words "lady friend".

Unfortunately, they were the only words I caught before he and his two cronies slithered off.

Frank--whose pants were awfully low at that moment, providing an enjoyably short glimpse of his boxers-- started reaming Gerard with all the fury of a parent, then stopped abruptly and gave him a look before walking over to me.

He looked like a puppy caught gnawing on his owner's favorite pair of sneakers.It was kind of adorable.

I'd decided to grill him, though. I wasn't going to date anyone with any sort of chemical dependency...

Even though I suppose a boy would have to be on some sort of something to show any interest in me.

Then again, neither of us were firing on all cylinders to begin with.

Insanity aside, I sounded like my dad.

Frank looked genuinely honest; no dilated pupils, no red eyes or anything.

Just the usual sparkling, amazing green mirrors.
Blinking back at me, growing playful as he pressed himself against the wall: legs spread, arms against his back.
His mouth, full pink lips and all, was curled into an oh-so-mischievous, open-mouthed smirk.

"If a strip search and/or spanking is necessary, I'd be happy to oblige, ma'am..."

He was even reaching with his belt buckle for one hand now, his slender, nail-polished fingers wrapping around it teasingly.

Good Lord.

"No! Clothes stay on!" I'd managed to squeak, swallowing achingly as I felt a lump in my throat. I was biting my lip; I hope he hadn't noticed.

A bit masochistic, isn't he?Not that I'm complaining.

Regardless, I felt my skin ripple slightly with embarrassment when I remembered Gerard had been watching the exchange.

Ah, well. He'd joked about "kinkyness" this morning, hadn't he?

Heh. I think it's best I change the subject.

"What's this 'lady friend' business?" My eyes narrowed curiously.

Frank grimaced. "Bert...that guy we were talking to...he wants us to meet him at his place later tonight--you included." His face took on a resolute look, his jaw taut like there was something important on his mind.

"Oh, I know who he is," my tone darkened.

"Does that mean you're coming? No wait, I mean you shouldn't go, we can-- well, I mean...um...I..." he was stumbling over his words like a gun was pressed to his head. Apparently, any arguments he'd had against me going had been deflated the moment he opened his mouth.

"I think i'll go."

The poor boy looked like he was next in line for a root canal.

"You shouldn't, really...it's.."

"...to dangerous?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! Very. Bad idea."

He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot, wet and mucky bits of loose concrete shifting under his tattered Converses.

Crunch.

"I'll be fine. I'm going with you," I declared. No way I was letting him go alone. I felt strangely protective of him, in a way. Like it would wound me personally to see him get hurt in any way.

"No." "Yes." "No. "Yes." "No."

"Okay, I won't." My face fell, and I stuck my bottom lip out.

"Oh, don't pout..." he looked guilty.

"I'm not..." I lied, looking away and nudging a few pebbles on the ground.

"You are!"I am.

"Hmph."

"Listen, Bert's dangerous...well, you know he is...why would you want to go anywhere near the place he lives?"

"Still going."

"But something could happen! Can't me and Gerard just swing by and pick you up after? Popcorn...soda...movie..." He was clinging desperately to his point, despite being ruthlessly disarmed whenever I said something in response.

"Mmm...I prefer this."

"But...but..."

"Frank, there's nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself; I'm no damsel in distress, thank you very much. Now will you let me go with you?" I tried to give him a mild, subtle version of the puppy-dog face, which was very out of character for me now that I think about it.

Chances are, I looked like a bloated fish instead.

Frank sighed wearily. "Okay. Okay."

Well, now I feel guilty...