Something I Could Hold Onto

"I vote we play twenty-questions," Frank said decidedly, placing his empty mug on the table gently.

For the past hour, the two had sat in casual observance of the customers and, more discreetly, of each other. Although the discomfort of first meetings had long since slipped away, Frank found himself glancing at Gerard and occasionally making an awkward eye contact. Maybe there's whip on my face, he pondered, subtly wiping his upper lip with the hem of his sleeve. He let his eyes drop to the black fabric, realizing that it was still dry.

There goes that idea.

He sighed quietly, diverting his gaze to Gerard once again. A small smile played across the older man's mouth as he drank the remains of his coffee and studied Frank's blushing visage; he was obviously not affected by the unofficial staring contest that had been initiated.

"Okay," he said finally. "You start."

Frank leaned back in the booth, allowing the over-stuffed cushions to absorb his small body. "What is your... favorite pick up line?"

Gerard laughed, imitating Frank's movements and reclining in his seat. "I'll tell you if you tell me yours," he said, still smiling.

Grinning, the younger man nodded and looked at his companion anxiously. "Out with it, Way!"

He leaned forward slowly, squinting his eyes seductively and licking his lips. "Baby," he said, his voice thick and husky, "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants."

Giggles erupted from Frank's throat, filling the air with a renewed sense of lightheartedness. Gerard, visibly pleased with himself, allowed a gentle chuckle to escape before prodding his friend's arm.

"Your turn, Pixie!"

Regaining composure, Frank moved forward so his face was nearer to the older man's. "Baby, I'm not Fred Flintstone," he said, roaming his eyes up and down the other boy's torso, "but I can sure make your Bedrock."

... "So where do you live?" Gerard asked, stretching for his sixteenth question.

"Belleville," Frank answered. "It's in New-"

"No shit!" came the loud reply. "I live there, too!"

"Really?" he said, excitement creeping into his voice. "You're fuckin' me!"

"Not yet!" he joked, grinning at his joke and the crimson tinting Frank's cheeks. "But yeah, I've lived there since I was a baby."

"Weird that I haven't seen you around."

"Likewise." Gerard took a sip of his fresh coffee, swallowing slowly and trailing his eyes down to Frank's hands.
"You're up," he said casually.

"Alright..." There was a slight pause as he struggled to develop a question. "Tell me about your family."

A genuine smile crossed Gerard's lips as he pictured his immediate kin. "Well, there's my brother, Mikey. He's twenty-two now and just got out of college. Then there's my mom, my dad, and my grandparents. They're all still in Jersey." He took another sip. "What about you?"

Heat rose into Frank's cheeks with the question. He doesn't need all the details, he told himself, attempting to calm his bubbling nerves. "It's just me and my mom," he said slowly, adding a forced smile.

"Oh," was the simple response. "I don't wanna pry or anything, but where's your dad?"

Frank swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "He died when I was sixteen," he admitted.

"I'm so sorry," Gerard cooed.

The younger boy nodded, lifting the corners of his mouth in what he hoped was a smile. "It's okay, man. It's in the past." He took a long, painfully hot gulp of his cappuccino before bottling the memories and suppressing the old pains. Attempting to add a happy light to his eyes, Frank shot Gerard a bright toothy grin. "It's your turn."