Passing Looks and Disappointed Faces

[Frank's P.O.V.]

Maybe closing the door in someone's face isn't the most polite thing to do but I swear, if I had let him, he would have entered the bathroom after me and I just needed some privacy. Nausea rising in my throat, I turned to the toilet seat, lifting the lid and regurgitating everything I had eaten. Groaning, I sank to the floor, holding my stomach tightly. I'm not entirely sure what could have triggered this seemingly random nausea and pain. Maybe it was the excitement at being able to borrow the Ava Adore 7" vinyl or throwing myself at him in such a manner because of the excitement. Either way, I wished I hadn't done whatever triggered this.

Shivering, I turned back to the toilet, throwing up the pittance I had left in my stomach. I wished I had a cig, just so I could calm my nerves and possibly my stomach. Groaning again, I leaned back against the wall behind me, closing my eyes tightly. I couldn't handle this; I shouldn't have come here in the first place. What if they did something to me? I doubted it but still, New Jersey isn't exactly a clean, "sunshine and rainbows" kind of place. Actually, the utter dinginess of the portion of the state I lived in could be represented by my home. I don't want to go into details at the moment, however; the shame is a great killer.
There was a quiet, simple knock on the door and I jumped to my feet, though the sudden movements made my head spin and my stomach lurch. "You okay in there?" I shook my head, knowing that no one was around to see it.

"I'm fine," I choked out, walking unsteadily towards the sink in order to turn on the faucet. I searched my face in the mirror, subconsciously washing my hands beneath the cool jet of water spewing from the faucet. I looked disgusting. With revulsion, I turned to the toilet, reaching out a soapy hand to flush it, unable to stand the stench any longer. Finishing up with my hands, I wiped them dry, opening the door quietly. I was met with Gerard's figure, a smile on his face, rocking back and forth on his heels. I couldn't help but smile back, placing my hands in my pockets.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, reaching out to ruffle my hair. This was the second time he had done that; surprisingly, I didn't care.

"I'm sure," I replied, forcing another smile, shifting my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. The look he shot me demonstrated his disbelief but still he placed an arm around my shoulder, leading me into another portion of the house. I looked at him in utter confusion but, as usual, he ignored me, walking me through a battered doorway. I found myself in the kitchen where Mikey was simply standing, obviously deep in thought, at the counter, a dirtied rag in his hand.

"Yo, Mikes!" Gerard suddenly yelled and I winced away from him. The yell, so close to my ear, reminded me of every single argument my mother and father would have. It reminded me of the nights I spent awake, listening to their hysteric voices just outside my door. It reminded me of the days I spent, sitting in my room with the music turned up loud so I wouldn't have to hear their insults. I hated hearing how my name was thrown around as if I were just another inconvenience that had been born in their web of lies. I was just another subject on which they could breach their differences; I was just another topic to nit-pick at. I was just another thing they had to share the blame at but which neither of them wanted to accept responsibility for. "Sorry," I heard Gerard mutter, but I had my eyes closed tightly, trying to push the images from my head.

"Frank? You okay?" Mikey asked and I opened my eyes, trying to smile at him. I failed miserably. I could still hear their wails of anger in my ears; I could still see their red faces as they yelled at the top of their lungs. I felt a hand on my shoulder and through instinct I moved away abruptly; I felt certain I was about to be blamed for something else-I always was.

"Maybe you should put the coffee on, Mikes; c'mon Frank." My eyes widened in surprise and fear; what would Gerard, a person I had just met, want to talk to me about? Either way, I followed him out of the kitchen and down the hallway, past a screen door to the backyard. He sat down on the porch and I followed suit. He offered me a cigarette and I eagerly accepted before turning it down. I had to remember my manners; I couldn't keep taking stuff from him. Rolling his eyes, though, he jammed the cig between my lips, lighting it before lighting his own. By instinct, I took a drag, making the end flare in a dull orange light. I gulped down the smoke like I needed it to survive, trying to speed the process of the absorption of the substance so I could balance out my system.

"Why'd you want me to come here?" I asked, exhaling a puff of smoke I couldn't swallow without coughing. He thought for a moment, obviously going over the ambiguous nature of my question; it could either mean why he had invited me to his house or why he had brought me to his backyard. I honestly would love an answer to both.

"You seem like a cool kid and I wanted to talk to you. Wait," he paused for a moment, taking a drag and then turning to me, exhaling his smoke as he talked, "Do you like coffee?" Noticing that he had just breathed his cigarette smoke over my face, he blushed, muttering an apology and making sure to puff his smoke away in the opposite direction.

"I love coffee. What'd you want to talk to me about?" He nodded, relief invading his delicate features, relaxing his tense shoulders. I was still as uptight as ever, slightly worried as to why he wanted me to come there.

"You gonna tell me the goddamn truth?" I shrugged, unsure as to what the question would be.

"I am if I should. If I shouldn't or can't, I won't." He nodded in understanding; how he could understand my messed-up logic and wording, I could never grasp.

"How's your life?" I laughed bitterly, leaning my back against the edge of the step above us. My life? Was that what he wanted to know about? My life was nothing worth knowing; nothing I wanted to tell him. Shame rose up in me, making my nausea return. I shook my head, biting my lip before raising the fag to my lips again, taking a deep drag. I continued to laugh without humor, clutching my heaving stomach with one hand, the other still holding the cig to my moving lips.

"My life's crap," I replied, looking at him with a horrible smirk on my face. He sighed, rubbing his forehead softly. The smirk gone from my face now, I mirrored his sigh with one of my own, thinking on how to answer his question. Of course, I did have the choice of not answering and telling him to mind his own business but I didn't want to. "Honestly, Gee," I muttered, loving the way his nickname rolled off my tongue, "my life's nothing special. You really shouldn't worry about me or about how my life's going. It's just bad news. You don't want to get into it."

"But I do!" he exclaimed, waving his arms around frantically. "I want to know about you; I want to know what makes you tick and what makes you happy. I want to know your problems and how your life plays out. You're probably going places, Frankie; places I'll never be able to reach because I'll fail long before it." He stopped abruptly, turning his face away, obviously taking solace in his half-finished cancer stick. I gaped, unsure how I could possibly answer to an outburst like that.

"I'm nothing special, Gee," I finally just said, "I'm not going places." And then, as if on cue, Mikey appeared at the screen door, juggling three mugs of coffee. I immediately stood up, leaving a brooding Gerard on the porch steps in order to help him. I immediately grabbed two of the mugs, my cig firmly held between my lips. I gave one to Gerard before switching the cig to my hand, taking a fortifying sip of the coffee. God, did I need that.

"You guys okay?" Mikey asked when suddenly Bob and Ray appeared behind me. I groaned at the utter irony of how everything was playing out before smiling.

"Everything's fine." I always pretend everything's fine. It never is. I swear Mikey's eyebrow nearly flew into his hairline, his mouth set in a disbelieving frown as he raised the mug to his lips. I rolled my eyes at his disbelief, sitting down at the spot I had abandoned in favor of the coffee only to find in occupied. I yelped, leaping up from fright. I sighed in relief though, when I looked back to see it was only Gerard. A yell leapt in my throat soon enough, however, when I was forcibly yanked down, the coffee mug still held precariously in my hand, my cig still hanging from my lips.

Laughter burst around me and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Oh, dear God. Coffee had spilled every which way, small splotches dotting one of my favorite shirts and best jeans, burning my bare skin. There was a mess of coffee dots around me, littering the floor with their warm goodness. I groaned, wishing there was more coffee in my mug and I wasn't in this predicament. His hand was situated on my upper thigh, which did nothing to diminish my embarrassment; it only heightened it, seeing as certain areas of my body wanted to rise to attention but were being restricted by the tight jeans I was wearing.

I placed the mug beside us with shaking hands before jumping up, running into the house. The laughter was dwindling down but I ran, not even focusing where I was going. I finally figured I had run straight into the bathroom where I locked the door behind me. Panting, I unzipped my jeans, needing to relieve myself of this tension before anyone noticed. Trying to muffle the sounds I would be sure to make, I bit down hard on my lip, the cig gone since I dropped it when I yelled. I worked quickly, trying to be as silent and efficient as possible. Still, I couldn't stop from letting loose a few low moans and groans and my hand moved faster and faster. Finally, with the image of the raven-haired man that had caused this situation, I found release, my problem slowly disappearing. I sighed in relief, cleaning up after myself, disposing all evidence of what I had done; I couldn't let them find out what had occurred here.

Zipping up my jeans and cleaning my hands, I tried composing myself for my exit out of the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror and double-checking I looked just fine, I finally turned the knob, discreetly leaving the cramped space. Breathing deeply, trying to look nonchalant, I walked towards the backyard, trying to push the thoughts of what I had just done out of my head. I found them all deep in conversation, smiles on their faces, my dropped cig extinguished on the floor, my mug of coffee right where I left it. They all turned to look at me and I flushed, looking away. The coffee was bound to be cold having sat there for such a long time.

"Wow; we thought you had run away and gone back to your house or something," Ray said, a kind smile on his face, though his eyes burned into me as if he knew what I had done.

"No," I shook my head, "I've got no idea how to get home from here anyways." They all nodded and Gerard motioned me over, a smirk on his face.

"Then where were you?" he asked when I had gotten close and I blushed furiously, turning my head away from them.

"Well, um...I walked a way away and then I realized I didn't know where I was so I came back." It was a lame excuse but it was all that would come to mind in this predicament. Gerard grabbed the back of my legs and, seeing as they were already weak from my actions in the bathroom, I collapsed onto him, practically straddling his hips, my crotch rubbing pleasantly and unfortunately against his. Already sensitive to such things from the stint in the house, my body reacted nearly instantly. My eyes widened as I looked into his, clouded slightly by lust. I shifted uncomfortably but it did nothing to help me; on the contrary, it just created more friction between our bodies.

I bit my lip hard, looking at him for some help; there was nothing in his eyes beside a slight dazed look which was tinged with lust. I should have expected it but I was still surprised as I rolled off his in an attempt to take the friction away. It worked but I was left with another problem; there was a bulge in the front of my pants that wouldn't go away unless I visited the bathroom. Now, going to the bathroom three times in an hour will awaken anyone's curiosity and / or concern, therefore that idea was thrown out the window. I guess I have to deal with this for the time I'll be here. I wasn't alone in this predicament, however. When I glanced over at Gerard, he had a matching, if only slightly smaller, bulge. Of course, he hadn't been overtly sensitive to any touch.

In an attempt to hide my problem, I brought my legs to my chest, resting my chin on my knees, hiding the want from my features. "I'm gonna...go up to my room for a moment," I heard a hoarse voice whisper for a moment, and suddenly the warmth beside me was gone and I was left alone with those I did not know at all. My eyes widened in slight fear and from the want to relieve myself that still plagued me. Oh, shit.

"So, Frank, where do you live?" Bob asked, a cigarette between his lips. In fact, everyone around me was smoking, except for Mikey. God, I wished I hadn't dropped that cig.

"Belleville," I managed to say, squirming uncomfortably.

"Sorry to disappoint, Frank, but we are in Belleville."