Something I Could Hold Onto

There was something about the way he walked that made Frank feel more at ease.

His hips swayed lightly - delicately, almost - making his slow pace seem even gentler. Both hands were shoved deep into his pockets with the exception of each thumb; those were hooked on his belt loops. His hair was strewn about by the howling winds, and the inky strands covered his eyes, not obscuring them completely.

He seemed safe, and Frank liked that.

"Y-Yeah," Frank stuttered finally, "I think it may have overheated."

The man was by his side now, the smell of nicotine and coffee radiating off of him like a calming perfume. "Looks like it," he agreed, "but your oil needs changing, too."

"You a mechanic?"

"No," he laughed airily, "but my dad taught me all about cars when I was younger. Tried to 'man me up'," he said with a grin, flexing his arms as he spoke the phrase.

Frank let out a dry chuckle. "I'm Frank," he stated, holding out his right hand.

"Gerard," he replied cheerily. He took Frank's hand in his own, eradicating most of the cold that numbed it.

Gerard, Frank repeated mentally. Fitting name...

"You all right, man?" Gerard asked jokingly.

He quickly nodded his head, breaking his train of thought and shifting focus to his smiling companion. "I'm good."

With another smile, the older man continued. "This could be a little beyond my skill level," he grimaced, "I can't do too much for you."
Frank nodded and let his head drop a little. "No, I understand." He sighed again, wondering how long it would take to walk back to the run-down gas station he had seen a few miles back. It was only about twenty minutes from here, he thought, But then again, that was at sixty miles an hour. It couldn't take all that much time, probably only --

"Where are you headed?" Gerard asked, snapping his thoughts yet again.

"Uh, I'm headed up to New York for the weekend. I'm supposed to be there at seven to check into the hotel," he said, his voice tainted with a hopeless air.

Without warning, a renewed smile absorbed Gerard's face. "No shit!" he exclaimed. "I'm headed that way, too!"

The grin was contagious, and Frank soon found himself with a matching expression. "Sick," he said, mentally chastising himself for not thinking of a more interesting response.

"For sure," he said, unfazed by the lack of eloquence. "D'ya want a ride up to the city? We can call Triple A or something, get 'em to pick up this sucker," he tapped the car's frame.

The corners of Frank's mouth curved upwards evermore, and he found himself wanting to hug the stranger. "Really?"

"Yeah, dude, no problem," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, man, that'd be great!" he said, some of his despondency blowing way with a cold gust of wind.

"All right," he began to turn, "You need to bring any stuff?"

Minutes later, with air still nipping at their faces, the two men had packed away all the luggage in Gerard's trunk. The younger boy shivered lightly, relishing the idea of a heated vehicle. His lips had begun to tinge with purple, and his small body shook with the cold.

As they stepped into the Civic, Gerard took another look at his new acquaintance. "You sure you're okay?"

Frank smiled, and turned to face him completely. "Positive."

Never been better.