Skin and Bones

Mikey unlocks the door and we walk in. He throws his backpack at the foot of the stairs and kicks off his shoes. I copy him – only I lay my backpack in a corner and bend down to take off my shoes and place them next to my backpack.

I walk down the hall to the door Mikey disappeared through. There’re a ton of pictures of the wall. A lot of b/w ones. Right across from the doorway that Mikey went through, I see two pictures in color. It’s the only ones in color on the entire wall.

One of them is of Mikey. He looks about 9 or 10. I think. I’ve never been good at estimating ages.
The other one is of-

I swallow and catch my breath.

It’s of Gerard. He looks about…15? Not sure. But he’s chub-

“Hey!” Mikey calls and I turn around.
“You want a coke?” He waves a can around in his hand while he’s looking around in the fridge.
“They do wonders for that sour taste in your mouth.”

“Oh, please! Yes!” I practically run over and grab the can out of Mikey’s hand.

“Dude, don’t sound like you’re having an orgasm! Please?” I smirk up at Mikey, before I crack open the can.

“Oh fuck!” I exclaim as the content of the can starts flying everywhere. I hold it out in a stretched arm, but it still soaks my t-shirt.
“Crap!” The can stops squirting.

“Just because I mentioned sex doesn’t mean you have to make a mess.” I glare up at Mikey.

“Well, thank you Mikey for shaking this thing,” I say, as I wave the can in his face. He pulls away. As if the can’s suddenly dangerous because it exploded. Moron.

“You’re very welcome,” Mikey says. He shoves the fridge door, and it closes while he walks over to the sink and grabs a rag. He throws it to me.
I start wiping my t-shirt. Fuck! This is one of my good ones!
“Now, my dear maid. Please clean up this mess.” I glare up at him, before I toss the damp rag right back at his face. And I hit him square on!
I raise my arms in victory.
“Ew! Dude!” he says disgusted and throws the rag on the floor.
“You’re fucking gross, Frank!” I snigger.

“Karma, dude. Karma,” I say, before I take a swig of the coke. Just after that one swig, I can feel the burning on my tongue and in my throat fade.

“Then you should clean the floor!” I frown at him.

“You were the one who shook the fucking can!” He frowns right on back.

“You were the one who was stupid enough to fucking open it after I shook it!”

“Well if you hadn’t shaken it, I wouldn’t get one of my best t-shirts ruined!”

“Oh, come on! It’s fucking coke! It’ll come off!”

“And leave a fucking huge stain, you ass!”

“Not if you fucking wash it!”

“You can fucking wash it, then! You’re the one to blame for getting it soaked!” After I say this, I pull my t-shirt over my head and toss it at him.

“Fine!” he says and picks the t-shirt up from where it landed on the floor.
“I’ll go put your butt-ugly t-shirt in the washing machine, and then you can dry up the fucking mess you made!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Mikey says and stomps off. I hear him snigger. Once he’s out the door, I grin. I love our fights. It’s good to get your anger out by arguing with your best friend.
I place a foot on the rag and run it over the puddle on the floor.

My sock gets wet. Great!

I place the can on the tabletop. Oh shit! That’s covered in coke too!
Mikey was right. I did make a fucking mess.
I kneel down and wipe up the coke that’s on the floor. After that I walk over to the sink and wring up the rag, soak it with water and wring it up again.
I turn around and walk over to the tabletop. I wipe it off – both the counter and the cabinets – before I walk over and wring the cloth again.

I hear a door slam. I smirk. Mikey’s coming back so we can bitch-fight again.
I hear him come into the kitchen.

“You sure to-“ It’s Gerard. It’s not Mikey, it’s Gerard.
Gerard’s eyes scan my body.

My eyes widen.

I’m not wearing a shirt. He’s disgusted. What am I doing standing in the middle of his house – and even worse; in the room where he eats – without a shirt on?? What am I doing?!

“Hi, Frank?” I fling my arms over my chest – dropping the cloth in my one hand. He frowns at me. I look down.

“Gerard! What’re you doing here?” Mikey asks. I hear his footsteps enter the room. They’re so much lighter than Gerard’s. I should have recognized them. I should have fucking-

“Ditching. Like you two, I presume.” He sounds so smug – so disgusted.
“I’m sure as hell not gonna wait all day for detention!” He sounds angry now. I bow my head lower. I wrap my arms tighter around myself.

“Well, actually Frank was sick, so I took him home,” Mikey says defensively.

“Really?” Gerard’s footsteps come closer. Suddenly I see his black socks.
“Are you okay?” he asks, before he places a hand on my forehead. I flinch and move back. My hip hits the counter.

“Gerard, maybe you should leave,” Mikey says quickly, and I hear his footsteps patter across the floor.
I see Mikey’s baby-blue socks, before I feel his skinny arms wrap around my shoulders.
Gerard’s black socks don’t disappear.
“Gerard,” Mikey says – his voice firm but pleading.
Then Gerard’s black socks slowly turn around and disappear.