Better Off

They pulled up to a set of iron gates, and Bruce punched in a combination of numbers, making the gates swing open. Raphe stared at the large house they were slowly approaching. It had a flower garden in the front, and a tire swing hung from a tree. She smiled at the kegs on the porch; they seemed so out of place. Frankie cleared his throat, and she looked back at him.

He was blushing. She smiled and absently ran her thumb over his knuckles. He grinned at her, his blush deepening, and looked away.

Bruce stopped the car and opened the door for Raphe, who scrambled onto the front steps, letting go of Frankie's hand. The boy laughed and thanked Bruce for the ride. The large man nodded and left, smiling.

Frankie sighed and walked over to Raphe, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I have to warn you, my dad is... weird," he said, and she laughed quietly.

"It's okay." He shook his head.

"You don't understand. He is..." Frankie sighed. "I don't know." Raphe shrugged.

"It's okay, really." He ran his fingers through his hair and opened the door.

"Dad! I'm home! I brought a friend, so please don't be naked!" Frankie called into the house. Raphe snorted, and he gave her a look that said "no, really." He lead her up a flight of stairs and into what she assumed was his room. It was a fairly large, typical teenage boy's room. There were clothes scattered everywhere, and the walls were covered in band posters.

"You like The Ramones?" Raphe asked. Frankie gave a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, why? Do you?"

"They're my favorite." The teenagers smiled at each other. Frankie opened his mouth to say something, but a faux-hawked man skidded into the room in only Spongebob boxers and socks, Risky Buisness-style.

"Hello Frankito-ito-ito. I am not naked, as you might have noticed. Introduce me to-" he caught sight of Raphe, and his mouth dropped. He stared at her shamelessly. Raphe blushed and looked at Frankie questioningly.

"Who is this lovely lady?" Frankie's dad asked in a seductive voice.

"Dad, this is Raphaela Calin. Raphe, this is my dad, Tré Cool," Frankie said, carefully watching Raphe's reaction. She smiled, recognizing the name.

"Oh, from Green Day, right? That's cool."

"Yeah..." Frankie said slowly, still watching her.

"I'm kind of surprised you'd tell me that. You probably get a lot of teenies." Frankie's face relaxed into a smile.

"Yeah, actually..." Tré lightly grabbed her hand to kiss it, but her wince of pain stopped him. He turned her hand over, seeing the fresh wound.

"Frankito! She is wounded! Dress her wounds. How dare you not attend to them?" Tré said in a British accent. Then, turning to Raphe, said, "I am terribly sorry for my son's actions. How may I repay a beautiful lady such as yourself?" Raphe laughed and shook her head.

"It's okay, really." Frankie chuckled and left the room to get antiseptics.

"No, I insist! What may I do for you?"

"I'm good. But thank you very much." Tré dropped the accent, furrowing his eyebrows.

"You don't want anything?" he asked, bewildered. She shook her head. "You're not even going to ask to meet Billie Joe?" She shook her head again. "Mike? No? You're a Jason fan?" He whistled as she declined.

"FRANKITO, YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A KEEPER!" Tré called as Frankie re-entered the room.

"I'm right here dad. Why do you say that?" Frankie asked as he sat Raphe on the bed, gently pressing a moist cotton ball to her cheek. She winced as it stung slightly.

"She didn't ask me to meet anyone. She said NO!" Tré gaped at her. She smiled.

"I have to say, you guys are amazing," Raphe said, and Frankie's father puffed up his chest.

"Of course we are." he paused. "I'm calling Billie!" He rushed out of the room, shouting "SUPERMAN!!!" on his way out. Frankie shook his head, and Raphe laughed.

"He doesn't seem to faze you," Frankie commented softly as he poured more antiseptic on the cotton ball.

"He doesn't, really. He's pretty cool."

"TRE COOL!" the drummer shouted.

"STOP LISTENING!" Frankie shouted back, making Raphe laugh again.

"And you're right. You have no idea how many girlfriends I've had that only want to meet Billie." He sighed. "Or friends, for that matter. Joey Armstrong and Stella Dirnt were my only friends for the longest time."

"Who?" she asked, and Frankie chuckled.

"Billie and Mike's kids." he explained patiently. She nodded, and they fell into silence, the only sounds being the soft scrape of cotton against her wounds and Tré's occasional shouts.

"You probably don't want me to go to homecoming with you now," Raphe said softly, and Frankie looked at her, confused.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, moving to her hands.

"You'd probably want to take someone pretty-"

"You're beautiful." His blue eyes met her green ones, and she blushed.

"But my face-"

"I don't care. You're still gorgeous." She looked away, and he gently turned her to face him, two fingers underneath her chin. Suddenly she was aware of how close he was, and she was afraid to breathe. He leaned in to kiss her, but the door flew open, and Tré snapped polaroids of the two of them.

"How sweet!" he said. This time he was wearing a pink flowered apron over his boxers. Raphe laughed, her cheeks a deep red, matching Frankie's. Tré cackled and ran out of the room, shouting incomprehensible things. Frankie sighed and looked back to Raphe.

"That completely killed the moment," he said flatly. She giggled and nodded.

"I meant it, though," he said as he resumed cleaning her wounds. She blushed and stared at the floor.