The Past is Only the Future with the Lights On

---2:47 p.m.---

"That took freaking forever," I sighed, closing my front door after just saying goodbye to Mikey and Dahlia (and thanking them, of course).

"Yeah, but it was worth it," Frank said as we walked back upstairs towards my room.
"Definitely," I agreed, nodding my head for emphasis.

We entered my room and my eyes instantly scanned the wall directly in front of me, the smell of paint fumes filling my nostrils.

Love didn't even begin to describe how I felt about that wall (which was pretty sad, considering it was a wall).

Just above Frank's butt impression, he had written in green spray paint, "Frank was here" and then went over it in the glow-in-the-dark so, apparently, I would be able to see his ass "even in the dark."

There were also just random words and pictures the four of us had doodled, being the complete idiots we were.

But my favorite-est part of the whole room was where Frank had spray painted, in the middle of the wall, a poem of some type, which I still had yet to ask him about.

I stood there, staring at the wall, rereading the tiny paragraphs over and over again, and almost forgetting Frank was still there, before I remembered I wanted to ask him about it.
"You like it?" Frank's voice was a close whisper, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I nodded my head, turning slightly to see his admirable, purple paint covered face.

"What is it?" I asked the question that had been killing me since I first read it about half an hour ago when he finished it.

"They're lyrics. It's a song I wrote," he told me, wiping some pain the had just noticed off his calloused hands and onto his old, torn jeans.

"You wrote this?" I asked, watching him nod. "It's beautiful Frank. Thank you," I smiled sweetly, pulling him into a warm embrace. As we pulled away, I gave another glance, reading the lyrics one more time.

Hold you as waves crash down on the Jersey Shore
Can't think of a time when I needed you more
Your skin is so pale reflecting the moon's glow
Please don't talk too much baby
I don't wanna know…

Breathe on your neck
Make knots with our fingers
I know that soon you'll be out of my reach
Kiss closed mouth to open eyes
Stall one last moment before goodbye

Drive different cars in different directions
Never write all the letters full of good words
Better intentions
It's for the best although we don't know it
Paper words could only cheapen the moments we shared
It's better I say nothing at all

You were so perfect but not everlasting
I'm almost convinced that we never happened

Frank had written this.

And he wrote it on my wall.

That shouldn't flatter me as much as it had.

I was also amazed by the fact that he managed to fit it on one wall, along with all the other random crap the four of us had doodled.

"Kelly?" Frank's questioning voice pulled me from my thoughts and stare. "Your phone's ringing," he pointed to the nightstand, still under a sheet of plastic, it's numbers noticeably lighting up through it as it vibrated off the wood.

Shaking my head clear of my thoughts, I walked towards my phone and picked it up, not bothering to check the ID, figuring it was Mikey or Dahlia calling because they'd left something here.

"Hello?" I said, placing the plastic gadget to my ear.

"Hey. How are things in Belleville?" I really need to start checking the ID before I answer.

"They're good. My friends and I just finished painting my room," I smiled slightly into the phone, seeing Frank smile as well out of the corner of my eye.

"That's great, sweetie. How's soccer for a new school going?" my dad asked, cheerily.

"Uhm. . .actually, I've decided to take a break from soccer," I answered reluctantly.

"A break? KC, there are no breaks if you want to get into a good college with a scholarship," he was beginning to sound angry.

This was the second time he'd called me since I moved here, the first time barely even counting as a first time, and he just had to bring up soccer.

"Dad, I don't even like soccer. And I still have the rest of this year to plan for college," I told him, looking at Frank, who shot me a reassuring smile.

"KC, you are going to -" he started until I cut him off and seized him from finishing his sentence.

"It's Kelly," I said almost sternly before snapping my phone shut and letting out an exhausted sigh.

"Daddy?" Frank asked, chuckling lightly under his breath.

"Unfortunately," I said simply, setting my phone on top of the plastic covered nightstand. "He can be an ass sometimes." Or all the time.

"I'm getting the idea he's the reason you played soccer. . .?" he asked, looking at me with a questioning, yet sorrow-filled, expression.

"Yeah, he always wanted a boy, but got stuck with me," I shrugged, trying not to let the fact that I didn't think my own father loved me get to me.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better. . .I'd love to get stuck with you," he smiled genuinely, a laugh escaping my lips.

"Thanks Frank. Oddly, it does help," I nodded my head.

"That's what I'm here for. Although. . .I should probably be leaving soon," he laughed at the irony of his words as he glanced at the black watch on his left wrist, the Boogie Man from the Nightmare Before Christmas directly in the middle of it behind the clear plastic covering.
I nodded in understanding, about to lead him back downstairs to walk him out, when there was a knock on my door.

I walked towards my wooden, oak door and pulled it open, revealing my grandma's petite frame. Her eyes went wide as they scanned over my shoulder and at my newly painted walls.

"Well, this looks nice," she smiled, looking between Frank and I. "And so do you two," she laughed, referring to the paint covering various places of our bodies and clothes.

"Thank you," Frank and I said at the same time, smiling just as wide as we looked over each other as well.

"Oh, Frank? If you don't have any plans, you and your mother are welcome to join us at dinner tonight. Homemade spinach and cheese raviolis," grandma smiled knowingly at Frank.

"How can I say no to your food, Toni?" Frank said kindly. I watched as my grandma nodded and then left us to retreat back downstairs.

"Looks like I'll be back in a few hours," Frank smiled almost seductively, making my knees go weak. "Don't miss me too much," he winked as he strolled past me and out the door.

Dinner with a crazy, old Italian woman, the cutest boy possibly in the world, and cutie's mother? Sounds like I'm in for an interesting night. . .

"No Frank! The parmesan cheese is not for snorting!" I told the boy sitting across from me at the round dinner table as I reached over it to take the plastic container from him. "Where is your mother? I can't believe she left me alone with you!"

In response, Frank just laughed at me as he rubbed at his nose, trying to remove any traces of leftover cheese.

"I'm sorry, Kelly. Is Frank bothering you?" Linda's, whom I met today as Frank's mother, voice met my ears and I looked towards the doorway to see her walking in with my grandmother, each of them carrying a plate of food.

I simply nodded, seeing Frank give me an offended look as his mother and my grandmother laughed.

Dinner mainly consisted of my grandma and Linda having a conversation as Frank and I sat in silence, eating.

"So do you and Frank have and classes together, Kelly?" It took me a few seconds to register that the question had been directed towards me, then a few more seconds once I had lost all train of thought because someone's shoe-less foot decided to travel up and down my leg at an insanely slow speed.

"Uhm. . .th-three, I think," I answered dumbly, shaking my head as Frank smirked in satisfaction at how he'd practically turned me into jelly at his touch.

"Wow, so you guys see each other a lot then. . ." She trailed off before returning to her conversation with grandma.

I took this as my cue to turn to Frank's-still-smirking face and glare at him. His foot was still tracing my leg so I used my foot to kick him in the shin, as discreetly as possible. It's not that I didn't want or like his foot trailing my leg, I just didn't want him to get suspicious or anything.

He jumped in his chair at the contact, receiving the eyes of the two adults in the room and then started laughing so they'd look away. It worked.

Once he stopped laughing, he glared back at me and mouth "whore," which only caused me to laugh and then mouth back "dumbass."