Ubriacarsi.

The next morning, Frank woke, still in his work clothes from the night previous. He was rather sweaty, rather uncomfortable, and had a pounding headache. As he blinked his eyes open, he found that he was laying on a couch that he did not recognize. He was glad, at least, to find that it was either still dark out or that the room that he was in just didn’t contain many windows. He swung his feet off the couch and sat up, then brought a hand straight to his forehead. He found that he regretted changing positions: movement only made his head pound further. He observed a water bottle on the table in front of him and grabbed it, then took a sip, leaning back into the couch cushions. He screwed the cap back onto the water bottle, setting it on the ground near his feet.

The floor was carpeted, he noted as he sat, and there was a large television in front of him with a game console. Whosever house he was in seemed nice. He heard footsteps and bustling above him and the windows were rather high so he felt like he could safely assume that he was in the basement. A finished basement with a huge TV. Whosever's house he was in seemed more than nice.

He strained his memory for details from the night previous. He was at work. There was Mikey. And his really good smelling cologne, or whatever that was. And his hand on his back. His fingers on his spine. There was the way it made Frank shiver. And then there were shots. And then Mikey cleaning. Then there was Gerard, who warned Frank that Mikey was gay. But Frank couldn’t find that he cared all that much because of that smell and those fingers on his back.

And then there was the ride home. And Frank remembered saying that he was not looking forward to climbing the stairs in his house: his mother would surely not be pleased to find him stumbling home drunk. But Mikey told him he could crash on his couch. And then he knew he was at Mikey’s house and he felt a small smile stretch across his lips.

But there was more to the night, Frank recalled. There was the kiss. Jesus christ, there was the kiss. Frank moved his hand from his forehead to his mouth, the tips of his fore and middle finger resting on his bottom lip. Mikey hadn’t initiated it, he, Frank, had. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but he had. And though he was not only shocked, but rather confused that the whole thing had happened, he was also quite sure that he hadn’t regretted it.

There was something about the way that Mikey interacted with him that Frank couldn’t get enough of. Not only was his it ridiculously good smell that drew Frank in and not only was it the way his fingers traced up Frank’s spine so well, but it was the way that Mikey came off, he supposed. He didn’t care that Frank thought his cigarettes were girly and he didn’t care that Gerard thought his dislike for Jager made him a pansy. And he’d admitted to getting Frank drunk on purpose, something that most would deny wholeheartedly to protect their character. Then, even after Frank kissed him, Mikey just chuckled and put that hand on his back and took him inside, surely anyone else would have taken advantage of the situation. But Mikey hadn’t. He was real, he was honest. And Frank couldn’t help but admire him for it.

Mikey- where was he anyway? Frank could vaguely remember following him through the house, but that much movement after sitting seemed to give the alcohol in his bloodstream a fresh chance to course through his body and his memory quite blurry after the kiss.

Frank squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then allowed himself to turn his throbbing head to observe the rest of the room- the area behind him. There was a sliding glass door with thick curtains drawn to shield rays of sun from entering the room and there was a bookshelf that housed not only a large number of the media of its namesake, but an extensive collection CDs and magazines as well. And, separated from a dark, stained wood door by a side table, was a bed which held a rather neat set of linens considering that the form of a sleeping body was contained in them- Mikey.

Frank got gingerly to his feet, moving his head as little as possible to avoid more pain, and walked to the bed, nerves building as he checked for the Mikey’s black thick-rimmed glasses on a side table to confirm the identity of the man on the bed. And there they were, so Frank sat carefully on the side of the bed moving his hand up to the boy’s shoulder. In doing so, he became aware that he wasn’t exactly sure why he was bothering to wake him other than the fact that he really just wanted the company. “Mikey?” he asked regardless, shaking his shoulder slightly, “Wake up…”

He wasn’t quite sure what else to say, and he wasn’t quite sure what else to do, but he did smile as Mikey simply groaned, burying his face further in his pillow. “Mikey, come on,” he chuckled, pulling the comforter off the boy’s shoulder.

“Ugh,” from the slightly strained expression as Mikey opened his eyes, Frank suspected that he had a hangover as well, however slight. But in spite of that, Mikey pried his eyes open as sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he looked groggily to Frank. “What’s up?” he asked. Then he yawned, running his fingers through his hair and Frank just sat there, watching him, nervously. Mikey cracked a smile as the yawn ended, chuckling, “You’re kind of cute when you’re nervous.”

Frank felt his cheeks flush, “Thanks,” he said now nervously than ever, casting his eyes down. Mikey’s were just looking too far into his. It was intimidating.

“No problem,” Mikey replied, he still sounded amused, as he spoke. “So why’d you wake me up? Need a ride back to your car or-” Frank looked up to Mikey, eyes wide.

“No!” he replied, much too quickly, he realized as he cast his eyes down again. “I mean, unless you wanted to.”

“You can stay all day if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you drive up to the restaurant twice in one day. Especially when we work at the same time anyway. I mean, if you weren’t doing anything…”

“Not a thing,” Mikey replied. Then he looked away from Frank to an alarm clock which read 12:17. This seemed to sit well with Mikey as he looked back to Frank with what was almost a smirk on his lips. “Put that under the door, will you?” he asked, pointing to a towel that was sitting on a chair.

“Okay,” replied Frank as he watched Mikey throw the blankets off himself. He tried not to wince at the loud noises that Mikey made as he rummaged a drawer of his bedside table. “You don’t have any aspirin or something in that drawer, do you?” he asked as he finished fitting the towel under the crack of the door. “I have the worst hangover…”

“Yeah, here,” there was a bit more rummaging, and then Frank caught a bottle of Tylenol that Mikey tossed to him. He poured two into his hand and tossed the bottle back, crossing the room to retrieve the bottle of water from before. When he was done swallowing the pills, he looked back to the bed where Mikey twisting the cap of a metal, circular object, a sandwich baggie full of a brownish green something and a blue glass instrument that Frank knew to be a bowl used for smoking weed next to him.

Mikey looked up to Frank as he eyed the objects, “You smoke, right?” He asked, but the question didn’t stop him from opening the circular device, picking up the bowl, and packing ground up weed from the device into it.

“Yeah,” Frank simply nodded and went back to the bed, climbing onto it this time, sitting cross legged a foot or so away from Mikey, “not all the time, but I mean, I don’t turn it down when offered.”

“Mm,” Mikey inclined his head in a nod with the bowl pressed to his lips, he grabbed a lighter from his side table and lit the bowl, inhaling deeply, then passed it to Frank, who did the same, watching Mikey as he held the smoke in for a few moments then expelled it, finally speaking again as Frank passed the bowl back to him. “Good system to go by,” he stated, moving the bowl back to his lips, “bet you save a ton of money on weed.”

He took another hit as Frank blew the smoke from his lungs, nodding. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually bought a bag myself.”Conversation got more casual, Frank noticed, the more hits of the bowl he took. Soon his headache was even loosing sharpness, in fact, it was replaced with a rather airy feeling.

When Mikey pronounced the bowl cashed, Frank let himself fall backward into the bed. He heard a soft clink as the bowl undoubtedly was set on Mikey’s bedside table, then there was a bit of shuffling and some pressure on the mattress and then Mikey was laying next to him, eyes closed, a simple smile pulled on his lips. “I bet you’re really high,” he turned his head opening his eyes to look to Frank. “You’re kind of a lightweight.”

“Kind of,” Frank chuckled, turning his head toward Mikey as well. “But that was really strong shit. Chronic?”

“Always,” Mikey replied, “I never smoke regs.”

“Nice.” Frank’s eyes moved upward and he observed the television behind him, “Your family must have a lot of money, huh?”

“I guess so,” Mikey shrugged, but he didn’t elaborate.

Frank looked back to Mikey’s face. The boy was watching him, a smirk on his lips, which, now that Frank looked at them, were rather close again.

“You kissed me last night,” Mikey said, finally. And Frank just nodded. There were a few moments of silence.“Are you gay?”

And it was Frank’s turn to shrug, “I don’t know.”

“You kissed me,” Mikey repeated, brows raised, “but you’re not sure if you’re gay?”

“Basically,” said Frank. He chuckled again as Mikey rolled his eyes, “What’s that look for?”

“That look,” Mikey brought a hand to Frank’s chin, tilting it up, “is me saying that it must be pretty cramped in that closet.” He moved his lips closer, then looked to Frank, his brows raised.

“Yeah, it’s a bit stuffy,” Frank replied, “but it’s, like, pretty much the best place to play seven minutes in heaven, I’ve heard.”

“Smart ass,” Mikey chuckled, but that didn’t stop him from pushing Frank’s shoulder back and climbing on top of him, pressing their lips together for a second time.

This time was different though, and, in a turn of events that rather pleased Frank, they didn’t stop so quickly this time. Instead, Frank allowed his lips to part and he felt Mikey’s tongue move into his mouth, pressing against his own. To be truthful, Frank had never kissed like this before, but he tried his best, moving his tongue in time with the older boy’s, propping his knee up against Mikey’s side in an attempt to feel closer to him, placing a hand on his waist. He let a few fingers touch the bare skin on the small of the boy’s back.

This caused Mikey to groan softly against into Frank’s mouth, causing the latter to smirk, rather cocky, pleased with himself. Then the boy on top pulled back, and Frank was left, still rather high in more than one respect, chest rising and falling below Mikey, who used one elbow to prop himself above Frank, the fingers on his other hand brushing across the younger boy’s cheek.

“You’re pretty new to this, aren’t you?” Mikey asked.

“I guess,” said Frank, smiling despite what he was being accused of, “am I that bad of a kisser?”

“Nah, not bad, just sort of… new. You don’t really know how to use your tongue: haven’t you even kissed a girl before? But this,” Mikey said, moving his own hand on top of Frank’s without giving the younger boy a chance to reply, “this is good, but you don’t have to just stay there.” With this, Mikey pushed Frank’s hand a bit lower on his own body, causing his fingers to peek under the fabric of his boxers, which made Frank’s eyes widen. “You alright?” chuckled Mikey. He slid his hand off of Frank’s, placing it instead on his cheek again, kissing him slowly on the lips, “You want me to pack another bowl?”

“I… um… no. I’m still good,” Frank couldn’t help but blush at his position while Mikey just sort of hovered above him, still propped up by his elbow, his eyes searching Frank’s face. By this, Frank was sure that he could sense his discomfort or perhaps the question that was burning in his throat, so he let himself verbalize it, failing at an attempt to make eye contact with Mikey as he asked: “If you didn’t get me drunk to sleep with me last night, why’d you get me drunk?”

Mikey just laughed, looking up to the ceiling, “Because I thought it’d loosen you up. You’re kind of, like, awkward, and nervous. I guess I just wanted you to open up a little. Why?” he chortled again, turning his head back toward Frank, “did you want me to fuck you?”

Frank stayed silent for a few moments, mouth gaping slightly. Of course, he did rather enjoy kissing Mikey and his body, though thin, was warm and fit well with his, but sex with him was not something that Frank had even considered and even if he had, the weed made him so lethargic, he wasn’t sure that he could put too much into the act anyway, even the kissing with Mikey had been rather slow, nothing fast-paced or horny. But he looked back up to Mikey, who had a sort of twinkle in his eye and understood that the boy was joking: taking advantage of Frank’s young age and naivety.

So Frank rolled his eyes, pushing playfully on Mikey’s shoulder, “I think Gerard was right about you,” he scoffed, sliding his other hand from Mikey’s boxers, “you are kind of a skank.”

“Whatever,” Mikey chuckled. He ran a hand down Frank’s leg as he spoke, surely just to tease him, then slid off of the bed and crossed the room, picking a pair of jeans off of the floor. He stepped into them, his back to Frank, who watched, rather intrigued as the older boy shifted his weight from foot to foot as he pulled his jeans up on his hips.

“Where’re you going?” Frank asked finally as he heard Mikey secure his zipper.

“Out for a cigarette,” the boy replied. “You coming?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Frank scrambled out of the bed, feeling in his back pocket for his cigarettes. Not there. He was almost sure that they were lodged somewhere in Mikey’s couch, but the boy had already pulled the curtains back on the sliding glass door and was heading outside, so Frank just tagged along, he would ask to bum a cigarette, Mikey seemed to enjoy making fun of him when he smoked his ‘girly’ Lights anyway.