Home Alone

"Have you been eating well? Three meals a day? Not all junk food?"

"Yes, ma."

"And you've been showering, right Frankie?"

"Every day."

"Alright. Okay, well what about water? Have you been drinking enough water?"

"Oh no!"

"Frankie!"

"I'm kidding, mom. Yes, I'm drinking enough water. And the house is staying clean, and I change my clothes everyday. Like a good boy."

His mom scoffs. "Doing regular 'good boy' things doesn't make you a good boy."

Frank gasps in mock-offense. "I am a wonderful child! I have no idea what you are talking about!"

"Yeah, an angel sent straight from heaven. Try telling that to my deceased garden."

"That was an accident!"

"You set it on fire!"

Frank smirks and giggles a little. "Yeah," he agrees, "I guess I'm not straight from heaven."

"Yeah, you took a pit stop in hell. Picked up some habits."

Frank falls onto the couch laughing. "Mom! I don't think you're supposed to say things like that to me! I'm your son, you know."

"Well, the test results aren't back yet."

"Ma!" Frank laughs, slapping a hand over his eyes. He officially has the best mom in the world. Ever.

"You know I'm just kidding, Frankie. I'm pretty sure it was your big head that gave me the worst pain of my life."

"Aw ma! Gross, come on." Okay, maybe, like, second best.

His mom laughs, then sighs a little. "I miss ya kid. I'll be home in three days, okay? Love you."

"Mkay. Love and miss you too."

"Bye bye."

"Bye." Frank hangs up the phone and places it on the coffee table. He should probably clean the table off, now that he looks at it. The whole house is clean except this table. There's DVDs, mail, magazines, a couple empty Coke cans, and now a phone. He rolls his neck around a few times, then gets off the couch and picks up the Coke cans and telephone. He sets the phone on its charger on his way to the kitchen, where he throws the cans into the blue, plastic box they keep for recyclables. He walks back into the living room and puts the DVDs away, then straightens out the magazines. He picks up the mail and flips through it, finding nothing interesting except the letter from his Grandma that he had forgotten about. He smiles and opens it, holding the envelope upside down to let anything in it fall out. All that is there is a hand-written letter to his mom.

What a rip off.

He sets the letter on top of the magazines, and puts the rest of the mail on the counter in the kitchen. He opens up the freezer and grabs a Popsicle, ripping it open and leaning against the counter in front of the sink. He's been eating these Popsicle a lot lately. He wonders if maybe he's becoming addicted to them. His eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead and he looks at the frozen treat, now wondering if a Popsicle can even be addictive. Probably not, but one time he swears he was addicted to pudding. He had to eat one every day, couldn't go without them. His mom told him they weren't actually addictive, that it was all in his mind, but Frank disagrees. He ate pudding every day until he couldn't even stand the smell of it anymore. He makes a disgusted face, just from the thought of it. He should probably stop eating these Popsicles so much, he wouldn't want to get sick of them. He stares at the treat for a couple more seconds, then just shrugs and puts it back in his mouth.

Out of the window above the sink, Frank can see The Brat's house across the street. He smirks, thinking about Gerard teaching The Brat a lesson. He should probably feel bad, The Brat's just a little kid, but he doesn't. He wonders what The Brat's real name is. He wants to call him Billy, for some reason. He's about 89% sure The Brat's name is not really Billy, but that's just what Frank wants to call him. Billy. It's easier to think than 'The Brat'. Although 'The Brat' does fit the boy better. Now Frank's wondering what 'Billy' means. Is Billy short for something? It must be short for William, right? Frank knows his name means 'free', or something. He's pretty sure it's Latin, but who knows. He thinks 'William' has to mean 'devil'. If he thinks hard enough, he's pretty sure he remembers the book he read about names saying it meant 'protector'. But only if he thinks really hard. So he's not going to think about it. He likes the name Billy for The Brat, and he's sticking to it.

When he finishes his Popsicle, he looks at the clock. It's noon, on the dot. Things like this impress Frank. Looking at the clock when it's exactly on the hour, his iPod dying right at the end of a song, things like that. While it's really cool that he looked at the clock right at noon, he's not so fond of the time. He's bored, really bored. He's running out of things to do in his little house, and it's only day 11. He moves his mouth around some, then shrugs and decides to go over to Gerard's house.

When he gets to Gerard's window, he lays down so he's level with it, like before, and knocks. Gerard doesn't come to the window right away, so Frank keeps knocking. Frank is sort of in an awkward position, though, which makes his arm hurt. So, by the time Gerard does get there, Frank is knocking with his head. The window slides open and Frank's head goes right through the opening, just barely missing Gerard's own head.

"Hi," he says, with a big smile. "I'm still alive!"

"That's nice," says Gerard looking at Frank like he's lost his mind. "And you were so excited about this that you couldn't wait for me to get there?"

"Pretty much," Frank says, falling through the window and landing on Gerard's bed. "Plus I'm bored."

"Come on in!" Gerard says sarcastically, rolling his eyes and closing his window.

"You invite yourself into my house all the time!"

"Yeah, but I usually use the door. Which you never lock, which pretty much translates into inviting the world into your house. But you come through window in my bedroom, and I've never even seen your bedroom."

Frank laughs a little and lays down on Gerard's bed, looking around the room. When he looks at Gerard again, he notices that his cheeks are red, and he's breathing fast. Like he was out of breath, but he's almost got it back. Frank looks at him, confused, and asks, "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Gerard jerks his head up, eyes wide, and says, "No! No, I uh. I was working out." He trails off, looking away from Frank. Frank bursts out laughing and Gerard narrows his eyes at him. He picks up a pillow and hits Frank with it, right in the face. Frank still doesn't stop laughing, though, so he does it again. After the third hit, Gerard gives up and just starts laughing with him. "Alright, so I wasn't working out. What ever."

"Oh I think you were working something!" Frank says between laughs, holding up his right arm and waving his hand around at the wrist.

He's expecting Gerard to deny it, quite frankly, so when Gerard says, "I'm left handed. Idiot," Frank just about pees himself. But it's okay, because Gerard's laughing too.

Eventually they both calm down, and Frank nods and says, "Well, at least I know you're putting my gift to good use."

Gerard looks down, blushing, then goes, "Do you want to play Halo?"

****

An hour after they started playing, Frank's almost positive he's got this game down. This time, he killed Gerard while Gerard was still paying attention. They were having a really good time, and Frank was trying not to think about it. He didn't want to jinx what ever the hell was happening. Gerard was acting like they were friends, so Frank just went along with it.

But, Frank couldn't help but notice that Gerard kept looking over at him. From the corner of his eye, he could see Gerard stealing glances every few minutes. It wasn't really annoying Frank, but still.

When Gerard looks over at him once again, for the 17th time. But hey, who's counting?, Frank decides to finally say something.

He pauses the games and asks, "Dude, what?" laughing a little to show he's not annoyed or anything.

"Nothing!" Gerard says defensively. He fidgets with his controller a little, looking down at it, then looks back up and says, "Did you know, that according to suicide statistics, Monday is the favored day for self-destruction?"

Frank stares at him and puts his controller down slowly. Then he says, "No, I can't say that I did. But I suppose that makes sense. Did you know women are 37% more likely to go to a psychiatrist than men are?"

Gerard nods, like he understands why, then goes, "Elephants are the only mammals that can't jump."

Frank scoffs and rolls his eyes, and says, "Duh. Everyone knows that."

Gerard rolls his eyes, too, then says, "The human heart creates enough pressure to squirt blood thirty feet."

Frank shakes his head. "Nine meters."

Gerard rolls his eyes once again and says, "Same thing, idiot."

"Oh, you're right." Frank pauses and tries to think of something else. "American car horns beep in the tone of F."

"When snakes are born with two head, they fight each other for food," Gerard says, making a funny move with his eyebrows.

"Wow. That's pretty cool. Did you know that people with black hair are at a higher risk to be attacked by birds?"

Gerard reaches up to touch his black-as-coal hair and says, "You're shitting me," eyes wide and mouth open.

"Totally," Frank says, laughing. "I just made that up, I have no fucking idea what color hair birds prefer. I don't even know if they see color."

Gerard punches Frank in the shoulder, but he laughs too. "80% of men say they would marry the same woman over again, but only 50% of women say they would marry the same man."

Frank laughs and goes, "They estimate that 21% of men are gay."

Gerard stops laughing and looks at Frank with his jaw sticking out to the side. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asks, clearly angry.

Frank's eyes widen and, hesitantly, he says, "That one in five men are probably gay?" even though it wasn't really supposed to be a question.

Gerard looks at the floor, then says, "I think you should go," very quietly, but very sternly.

Frank looks at him with a mix of confusion and hurt on his face. "Gerard, what the hell? I didn't mean anything by it! I mean, what are you scared of, anyway? It's not like I'm gonna judge you!" he says with a quick, breathy laugh. "Everything was going good, man. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or something. I didn't mean to."

Gerard looks at him and goes, "But you did. I don't want you here anymore, Frank. I'm sorry if you thought we were friends or something, again, but I don't like you. How many times do I have to tell you? Now get out." It's really not as harsh as he probably wanted it to be, but it still hurts Frank.

Frank lets out a quick breath, then shakes his head and stands on Gerard's bed. Neither of them say anything as Frank climbs out the window and heads home, biting on his thumb to stop himself from screaming. Or maybe crying.