Something I Could Hold Onto
Drinking black coffee.
Thinking back on the situation, Frank realized that he should have been more hesitant to get into the car with an almost stranger.
He should have experienced at least a degree of ambivalence concerning the young man who he found leaning on the hood of the Honda. He should have thought rationally before accepting the boy's hug and wrapping his arms warmly around his shoulders, and he should have considered the situation carefully before stepping eagerly into the passenger seat.
But instead, Frank made the choice to abandon his old routine of habitual over-thinking. He ignored the innate instinct to analyze the scene before acting, and for once in his life accepted the hand he was dealt.
And he had never felt better about a decision.
Frank smiled to himself as he silently reflected this, his eyes sliding casually to the man on his left. Gerard's inky black hair had been groomed beyond perfection, yet in a way that could convince one to believe he had just rolled out of bed. His clothes, too, carried an air of stumbled-upon-quality. His dark thermal shirt contrasted deliciously with the milky tone of his skin and the pale white of the underlying shirt. Black jeans clung gently to his legs in, what Frank believed to be, all the right places. Combined with the dark amber saturation of Gerard's pensive eyes, Frank couldn't help but compare his companion to a cup ofun-mixed coffee.
Fuck, he thought with a satisfied grin. He even smells like a mocha.
Although Frank had been too involved with his thoughts to notice, Gerard had now flipped the ignition of the Civic and begun driving down the empty street. A light drizzle fell against the windshield, steady as a heartbeat and slow as a drumbeat. It provided the sole noise, however, aside from contented breathing.
"So, in honor of the occasion, I have a joke," Gerard began, discarding the comfortable silence in favor of conversation.
Frank's face brightened a bit at the words. "Okay," he said with a coy smile. "As long as it doesn't begin with 'knock knock'."
Gerard grinned, amused by the comment. "Nah, nah. Those are beneath my level of humor." He licked his lips slowly, causing Frank to squirm ever so slightly. "So, Eggs and Toast walk into a bar and order a drink. The bartender looks at the two for a moment, before pointing to a sign behind him."
"Lemme guess," Frank said with a small smirk.
A similar expression crossed Gerard's countenance as he continued. " 'Sorry,' the bartender says, 'but we don't serve breakfast here.' "
He should have experienced at least a degree of ambivalence concerning the young man who he found leaning on the hood of the Honda. He should have thought rationally before accepting the boy's hug and wrapping his arms warmly around his shoulders, and he should have considered the situation carefully before stepping eagerly into the passenger seat.
But instead, Frank made the choice to abandon his old routine of habitual over-thinking. He ignored the innate instinct to analyze the scene before acting, and for once in his life accepted the hand he was dealt.
And he had never felt better about a decision.
Frank smiled to himself as he silently reflected this, his eyes sliding casually to the man on his left. Gerard's inky black hair had been groomed beyond perfection, yet in a way that could convince one to believe he had just rolled out of bed. His clothes, too, carried an air of stumbled-upon-quality. His dark thermal shirt contrasted deliciously with the milky tone of his skin and the pale white of the underlying shirt. Black jeans clung gently to his legs in, what Frank believed to be, all the right places. Combined with the dark amber saturation of Gerard's pensive eyes, Frank couldn't help but compare his companion to a cup ofun-mixed coffee.
Fuck, he thought with a satisfied grin. He even smells like a mocha.
Although Frank had been too involved with his thoughts to notice, Gerard had now flipped the ignition of the Civic and begun driving down the empty street. A light drizzle fell against the windshield, steady as a heartbeat and slow as a drumbeat. It provided the sole noise, however, aside from contented breathing.
"So, in honor of the occasion, I have a joke," Gerard began, discarding the comfortable silence in favor of conversation.
Frank's face brightened a bit at the words. "Okay," he said with a coy smile. "As long as it doesn't begin with 'knock knock'."
Gerard grinned, amused by the comment. "Nah, nah. Those are beneath my level of humor." He licked his lips slowly, causing Frank to squirm ever so slightly. "So, Eggs and Toast walk into a bar and order a drink. The bartender looks at the two for a moment, before pointing to a sign behind him."
"Lemme guess," Frank said with a small smirk.
A similar expression crossed Gerard's countenance as he continued. " 'Sorry,' the bartender says, 'but we don't serve breakfast here.' "
♠ ♠ ♠
:]] Cheesy? Most definitely. But I thought it was a cute joke ;]]The title is from "Black Coffee" by Black Flag. If you go to listen to it, try to find the attic demo; it's much better than the album version.
Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to likeitmatters, who spilled the beans and made me happy :3 You should definitely read her story; it can be found here and it comes highly recommended!